Raptors must eat (an excerpt)

While we were talking, Lisa told me about the other animals in our “chain”.

“Each goalkeeper is responsible for their sequence,” she explains. “String 5 is mine, and it includes monkeys, sea lions, raptors, duck ponds, and docile animals. When you work with me, you work in all of those areas,” she said.

“What is a raptor?” I ask.

“A raptor is a bird of prey—that is, it eats its prey. We have barn owls, golden eagles and falcons. They’re on the other side of the pond,” she pointed.

“Oh yeah, I know where they are, I just don’t know they’re called raptors,” I replied. It’s a part of the zoo that I haven’t visited often. I like mammals and spend a lot of time with monkeys and elephants. However, the birds of prey were right next to the sea lion, so I saw them occasionally on the way there. They weren’t very active and didn’t pique my interest at the time.

I think it’s odd that zoos seem to put their animal care “strings” by location rather than by type of animal. I thought there would be professional goalkeepers, so I asked Lisa what kind of school you need to go to to become a goalkeeper.

“The job request says ‘high school diploma,’” she used her hands to make quotation marks and you could see from my expression how much that surprised me. “I don’t know if you realize, but we really work for the city. We are honored janitors.”

“But didn’t you say you have a BA in biology, and you moved here to do this job?” I ask.

“Yes, and yes. I moved for the job, not the salary! she laughed.

We drove past the pond and came to a row of raptors. They look like giant birdcages.

We approached the first one, there were two golden eagles, and Lisa went back to the cart. I had never thought of it before, but when I looked up at the birds perched on top of the cage, I realized that the roof of the cage prevented them from seeing the sky. No wonder they aren’t very active. No sky to ponder, no place to spread wings—an animal

that means that levitation cannot do anything other than jump from limb to limb. I shook that disturbing thought out of my head and focused on the task at hand.

“Do you want me to get the seed?” I asked, referring to one of the buckets she had placed in our stroller.

She smiled softly, “No honey, these are birds of prey. They don’t eat seeds.”

“Oh that’s right. Good . . . what are you feeding them?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“Usually we feed them rodents. Parts of rodents, pigeons, rabbits and chickens… sometimes chicks,” she looked at me, waiting for a response.

I never thought about it before.

“Where do you get their food?” I asked slowly because the words didn’t want to come out of my mouth.

“We bought some of them, and . . . we increase some of them,” she said slowly and softly. “Mice and rats are in the back of the exhibition building, guinea pigs and rabbits are in the coop outside the exhibition building, and the chicks are incubated in the yard,” she replied.

The exhibition building, which zoo keepers refer to as EB, houses small animals, reptiles and nocturnal animals. Due to the presence of nocturnal animals, half the building is kept in the dark. The back area is the area behind the public display for staff and volunteers only. I didn’t realize there was an outdoor area behind the exhibit

construction, nor in the public eye.

“We locked them in the back of the building and brought them here to die,” she continued.

I swallowed. “Ah. . . What does bond mean? I really don’t want to know, and it feels like a dark cloud has enveloped us.

“That’s how we kill them,” she said quietly. “There are two ways. We have a drowning trap, you probably walked past it in the kitchen. It’s a metal bucket with a cage inside. You put the animal in the cage, fill it with water. into the bucket, then put the cage in the bucket . . . ” she’s watching me carefully. . . now we put them in a plastic bag, then swish it and

smash it on a hard surface. That’s called bonking, and it’s the least cruel method. They die instantly,” she paused for a minute. “At least that’s the idea…drowning takes…time,” she looked away before returning to the stroller.

I stood there for a moment in shock. Many thoughts ran through my mind, and some of them contradicted each other. How do they do that? I wonder. But they are zookeepers, don’t they love animals? Of course they did, but… I could never do it… does that mean I could never become a zookeeper? What did I think? They have to

feed the birds, right? The raptors must eat. . . Wait, my God, what do they feed all the other carnivores? What about snakes? And… oh my god. I do not want to know. I felt a little nauseous, but Lisa moved on and I needed to join her.

“It would be better to feed the animals raw, you know? Boning? she said softly, then abruptly turned away. I got the impression that I was making her feel guilty. Perhaps my innocence is reminding her of a way of thinking she has lost.

She pulled what looked like a welder mask from under the seat of a golf cart and showed it to me. She burst out laughing at my flustered expression and immediately the tension dissipated.

“These birds are no joke. I have to protect myself,” she winked and pulled the mask over her head. Now I could see that it wasn’t a welder mask after all but a sturdy leather helmet with a long plastic visor that pulled down the front to protect her face.

“Sorry, you are not allowed inside. Insurance,” she said. There’s that word again. “But I could still use your help. Bring me a broom and a dustpan and a trash can,” she pointed.

I get tired of thinking about petting animals so I’m happy to be on the move and focus on helping her clean up. We worked together on each of the three enclosures. She says eagles scare her the most.

“My head and face are protected, but not my arms,” she told me. Once again, I admire her bravery, and again, I think. . . I could never be a zookeeper.

She told me, “The raptors need to be fed before the park opens. . .” and then she stopped, and I thought she would add “for obvious reasons” but I guess it was so obvious she didn’t feel the need to say it.

taken from The Age of Spider Monkeys: And Other Revelations From Behind the Zoo.

Image of KevinsPhotos from Pixabay