Around the Zoo

Although I have many anecdotes from my personal life to relay, (like how I just got the internet yesterday, or how I have twice now pretended not to understand German in order to avoid men who were asking me out) I feel as though I have been neglecting explaining the animal side of my job. So here is a smattering of my experiences at the Magdeburg zoo.

I think it is fair to generalize that zookeepers the world over are not people people. That's why they work with animals. The Magdeburg zoo is full of keepers who have been keeping for decades; they are staunch, no-nonsense professionals, not all of whom are thrilled to have me around because I represent a changing tide not all are ready for. These keepers like to stay behind the scenes and while they take wonderful care of their animals and exhibits, they have no desire to do presentations or speak with the public. I completely expected this, and I know enough about zookeepers to know that the way to their hearts is through their animals. For the most part the keepers didn't know what to do with me at first. I have been spending time following other keepers around in order to get an idea of how the whole zoo runs so I can work with as many of the animals as I will fit into the kindergarten curriculum. It is time-consuming and means that there is always something new. On one of my first days doing this, I followed a man with piercing blue eyes and an earring. He said almost nothing while we worked and then suddenly after three hours of cleaning enclosures side-by-side, he said "Ich heisse Rene." I was so shocked that he was addressing me that my reply was the German version of, "Uh...what?" He repeated himself and this time I understood. After three hours of working with me, this man finally said, "My name is Rene." I said, "I am Suzanne. Nice to meet you."

Ususally I do not get to participate in veterinary procedures, but I have had the opportunity to be present for a few. One day I happened just by chance to see three. First one of our kangaroos (don't worry, Mom, it's a small kind, not the six-foot red kangaroos you're thinking of) had an abcess that needed to be treated. I helped restrain the kangaroo, which stood only about three and a half feet tall, but of course that thing could KICK. Fortunately the veterinarian speaks English well and could tell me exactly what to do. The soft, thick fur surprised me because from a distance kangaroos look smooth and sleek to me, not fluffy. But upon closer inspection, this kangaroo had plush fur and very athletic muscle density. The second procedure that day was a treatment for a green iguana that needed an x-ray. The green iguana, being much smaller and less active than a kangaroo, seemed like it should be a cinch after what we went through with the thrashing, spindley kangaroo. I was wrong. First, two keepers climbed trees in the iguana exhibit, which was precarious enough, but to add a further element of danger, the one who grabbed the iguana then had to climb back down without being bitten by the iguana who was acting very much like a frantic fish out of water, flapping his whole body all over the place. Thanks to good forsight the keeper was wearing leather gloves for this task; the iguana latched onto one glove so furiously that he could not be pried off. We took the x-rays with the glove still in the iguana's mouth.

The third veterinary procedure I watched that day was performed on a juvenille red river hog who had been bitten on his stomach by another hog. If you are not familiar with red river hogs, just imagine a warthog the color of an Irish setter and then imagine he has giant ears with bushy tufts of hair on the ends. Now imagine that there is a large, stoic German man sweet talking this little pig while petting the anxious animal from six feet away using a broom. Really, this was genius. The vet needed to see the underside of the hog, but because he was injured, the hog wanted nothing to do with this and barked and snapped when the vet came near. So, to calm the little guy down, the vet took a broom and stroked the pig to quiet him enough that he would allow someone to get a good look at his wound. I don't think the sweet talking had any effect, but it was funny to hear.

Some observations abbreviated for the sake of time:

Asiatic lions are SCARY. Unlike African lions, who often are calm and tolerant, Asiatic lions are very aggressive toward keepers. The male at Magdeburg emits a deep rumble from his chest constantly if keepers are near, and every now and then he lunges at the gates, bellowing like the innocuous MGM lion would sound if you accidentally had your TV volume turned up way too loud. Even when I knew he was going to pounce toward us, it was difficult to ignore the gut reaction to run away, back up, or at least wince. This animal is a perfect example of why a forgetful keeper is a dead keeper. We check all our locks three times. Always.

The Germans desire for order extends beyond punctual transportation to their zookeeping. The German keepers have (what I think is) a strange compulsion to clean the outdoors. On more than one occasion I have had a German zookeeper follow behind me and re-rake places I have already raked. Don't they know more leaves will fall tomorrow? At the same time, I seem to clean the indoors TOO thoroughly for them. They always stop me and tell me it's good enough.

Wubbo is a 22-year-old chimpanzee. He likes people-watching, bananas, blowing kisses and plastic containers. Also, Wubbo likes me. The keeper who raised him, Sonja, spoke with me (in German) about this. After I had worked all day in the ape house she said, "Wubbo likes you. He doesn't like everyone, you know. Sometimes a new intern or trainee or anyone comes in and he gets very upset. He lets you watch him eat. With you he is very calm." Wubbo has diabetes and let me watch while Sonja tested his blood sugar. When Wubbo was finished, he received a pear for his cooperation and his mate, Nana, who does not have any blood sugar condition but wanted a pear of her own, offered her foot to be pricked and tested as well. Sonja obliged and Nana ate her pear.

At Magdeburg zoo there is always some kind of poop to be stepping in. It is not a matter of if but a matter of when, what kind, and how much. I do not reccommend Asiatic buffalo.

In my previous zookeeping work, I had to do a lot of chopping up of small rodents, chicks and horse meat. After a while a zookeeper doesn't think twice about snipping off tails and heads and doesn't ever cringe at the cracking of tiny spines. But I never had to actually slaughter the animals myself. They always came in compact frozen bags. The Magdeburg zoo raises all of its prey animals and feeds fresh meat to the carnivores, which means of course that someone has to kill the meat first. In the middle of our day, Sonja explained to me that we had to go to the kitchen to get the food for the animals. This meant that the sweet lady who wanted me to tell her all the names for our cleaning tools in English was going to bash in the heads of a line-up of 30 small animals. And she did.

When I started working in Germany in September the weather was beautiful. Today it snowed. It was the Seattle type of snow where nothing stuck because the ground was too wet, but it became suddenly evident that winter is here. The zoo provided me with a uniform to wear so I don't look like a random teacher jumping over fences into enclosures, but if the zoo's uniform stock is any indication, there has never been a Magdeburg zookeeper as small as me. Hence, my uniform is a spiffy matching set of hat, sweatshirt, polo shirt, khaki pants, thick winter coat and rubber boots, all several sizes too large. So, just picture all of the previous things I mentioned happened while I was wearing clown pants.