We went to the zoo this past weekend. I have a conflict about zoos. I love animals, but on the other hand, I love animals.
Sometimes I write sentences like that and think that it would be stupid to explain them because their meaning is completely obvious. I think this because I've got a thread going in my head, something like background music, and with that thread, it would be impossible not to. But then I look back objectively at 'I love animals, but on the other hand, I love animals' and snap back into (out of, actually) context.
What I mean is, I'm not sure if the sum of (1) the joy I get from being able to observe animal behavior, (2) the species who are being saved from extinction by zoo breeding programs, and (3) the awareness of the plight of different species, and by proxy, the earth, given by the plaques, is quite enough to make up for the feeling I get when I see a cheetah pacing a 10x10 enclosure. It's easiest to see with the cheetah - big cats always seem restless, they don't put on even the slightest hint of a happy face. They look as though they have one objective: getting out, and running, and running, and running, and running. It's never as obvious anywhere else, and of course neither I nor anyone else can say what a tiger is feeling even as it paces. The less obvious ones, too... what the lorises think as they creep up and down the same skinny branches over and over. The elephants must know they don't need to hold one another's tails with their trunks to navigate the total distance of a hundred feet, right? Who knows what they know? While we were watching the elephants, some keepers came out with what looked like nightsticks and tapped the elephants' knees. The elephants lay down. They raised their giant feet onto tree stumps. They received treats, put on their necks, and they reached their trunks around to pick them off. Elephants always have what looks like a humongous soppy grin on their faces, with the droopy lower lip and the tuck of the mouth under the trunk. It's hard to imagine them being sad. Maybe they're not.
I know a lot about animal behavior from school, but I don't know this. I felt a lot better about zoos after reading Life of Pi, even though it was a work of fiction. It gave me an excuse, but I knew that it was just an excuse. The truth is, I don't know the truth. I would work in a zoo in a second, even to be the person who shovels hippo poop, because it would give me an opportunity to develop my own observations, and work towards knowing the truth, and using the truth to make better habitats. I always want to jump into the lion cage and pet the lions, and it's almost a drive to make them feel cared for, even though I know that's enormously stupid and not at all the outcome that would result. Lions don't need to be petted to be cared for, but they need something, and if I can channel the ridiculous lion-petting compulsion into something that achieves the effect I'm going for, then I think I'd be satisfied.
We were standing at some kind of bird pond, and one bird, a bird with a giant beak, was swimming in fast circles around this pond as a skinny woman in huge boots threw dead fish at him. He couldn't have cared less about the dead fish; in fact, he seemed like he was trying to dodge them. They sank to the bottom of the pond as he swam faster and faster, and as the woman on the island in the middle tried to hone her aim. It looked more like target practice than like feeding time as the zoo. And she looked angrier and angrier the less and less the bird paid attention to her efforts.
Despite the placing of that anecdote, it wasn't supposed to be representative of anything, or have a moral, or anything like that. I'm just remembering things, and that's what I remember. I remember thinking that despite the bird's disdain, I'd still fight that angry woman for her job. Animals that have great disdain for me only make me fight harder for their affection. That's why I'm a cat person. How is someone supposed to enjoy the challenge of making an animal happy if it's already happy, drooling, bouncing, fetching balls, pooping in people's flowerbeds, and needs nothing from anyone to go on being happy indefinitely? That has nothing to do with the human condition. Being happy despite everything. I can't relate to that.
This is not a blog about Indonesia any longer. It was. Now it is a blog about anything. I don't know. You choose.
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2 comments:
just to put this out there, i'm really sad i'm not going to get to see you next week.
Well, it feels like a couple of the Zoo's cage-decisions are either arbitrary, space-related, or just plain silly.
For example, the Cheetahs were in a moderately sized pen, maybe 20 yards by 20 yards, some fake wildlife and they were just pacing along the sides of the fence staring down the antelopes. The lion had a smaller area with a more elaborate habitat but had a similar open air pen. Then the mountain lion was stuck in a feline cage-pod with the 10' x 5' close-air cage, with no decent habitat, mewling desperately at the passerbys who all noted that it was similar to their own home-domesticated cats (just bigger). The difference between these seem to be space related. Like perhaps the Cheetahs are "cooler" and therefore get priority when dividing up pen space.
The Bears had horrible exposing rock environments that were only used because for some reason they were like... zoo landmarks. Yeah, almost 100 years ago, a zoo pen that looked similar to the natural habitat was a neato-nifty idea. But it's pretty obvious how limited their "natural" look really is--there is no actual foliage, there is no realistic environment to speak of really. I mean walls of a cage that look a little like rock walls are still walls of a cage. In this case the cage is designed for the benefit of humans. There is no space for retreat when the bear is sick of being ogled, there is no natural, living, breathing landmarks like trees or any thing that would provide a more natural look because it could potentially conceal the bear from view. There bears had nothing more to do than sit around, be pissy to eachother, and basically be looked at. The purpose of these cages are pretty obvious from an objective viewpoint. They offer maximum viewing opportunity with a natural-like backdrop and don't frame the viewing with cage implements or wire or anything so that with a little imagination one could "experience" the bear viewing as if it were a natural encounter.
Of course, this is just absurd. The bears don't look or act naturally. They don't go about their natural business because there is no natural business to go about in their cages. Instead they just lounge about, one, I recall, looked like if he had a gun he'd shoot himself (perhaps herself) and all around the experience was depressing.
These old cages need to be remodeled, the zoo itself needs to be overhauled. (For organization's sake, if for no other reason)
A great example of how the zoo could be updated is Primate Panorama, which is their newest addition. Primate panorama is firstly a well structured section of the zoo that focuses on the order of Primates (obviously). The cage structures/designs seem to give a little more to the animals than the designs of almost 100 years ago. The primate cages, while still offering lots of viewing opportunity, are loaded with diverting objects and habitat elements. From construction sets to play on to trees with green and lots of grass and plants all around. The cages are also sized according to animal sophistication and size. The smaller and seemingly less inteligent species have smaller cages, etc...
The layout and design of the pens in Primate Panorama are quite contrasted to the rest of the zoo making the transition from Primate Panorama to the rest of the zoo very dramatic.
It's too bad, almost, that zoo funding doesn't allow a more dramatic overhaul of the originating parts--or at least, I hope that's the reason.
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