In the afternoon, Sherry and I drove in a light truck to animal shelters from Australia, Africa, and Western America. They are all located in the same area of the zoo. Like Chain 5, the majority of Series 1 seems to be location-based—mainly two slots. The bison are on the same side of the zoo as the animals in the enclosure, while the “continent A” animals (as I think of them) are in adjacent courtyards separated only by wire fences. high chain.
Our first stop was the American white-tailed deer. Here, as with farm animals, we can work in their yard when the animals are present. In the back yard, shaded by trees, was an open barn-like structure where they could shelter from the rain and where we could keep food for them. The front yard is open, no trees, not much grass. Deer droppings, known as “poop,” are the size and shape of small pellets, making it difficult to scrape on flat hard ground. The pellets are small enough to fit between rakes and round enough to roll away when I try to collect it in a pile. I find a broom on the ground more effective. The deer are beautiful and fun to watch. I wanted to reach out and pet them, but they were too timid. I suppose even these deer, who are safe from hunters, instinctively hold on to fear.
man.
After the deer, to Australia. Emu is housed with wallabies in a yard similar to a deer’s yard but much smaller with a shaded barn in the back. I realized that both of these animals were smaller versions of their more famous cousins, the ostrich and the kangaroo.
The emus is the second largest bird after the ostrich, but they are native to Australia, while the ostrich is native to Africa. Both of these large birds are called rat birds because their sternum is flat and they cannot fly. Emus at the zoo were used to humans and almost ignored me while I cleaned their yard with them.
The wallabies, on the other hand, are shy and completely avoid me, which is probably for the best as I would love to hug them to death, they are so adorable. They look so much like kangaroos that many zoo visitors mistake them for their own babies, known as joeys. Both kangaroos and wallabies are marsupials, which means they carry their young in a pouch. But the kangaroos in this zoo have no young to carry.
After completing the “downward” work and another break, Sherry says we’re headed for “hooved animals.”
“What are ungulates?” I asked curiously. I’ve never heard that term before.
“A ungulate is a hoofed mammal—in this case, antelope, like antelope,” she explains.
For some reason, antelope has always been referred to by zookeepers as ungulates, although there are quite a few other animals in the zoo that I think – by definition – would fall into this category, including including white-tailed deer and white-tailed deer. a hippopotamus.
Oryx has a very striking appearance. Their bodies appear sturdy and strong, with mostly brown fur except for the bold stripes of dark fur that seem to encircle their bodies as they run down their backs, under their bellies, and up their chests. Their faces, too, are lined with dark fur on their noses, chin, and white eyes – the slightly opposite of a raccoon. Their most striking feature is their extremely long spear-like horns. Because of these things
horns and their nature (and the ever-present issue of “insurance”), we were not allowed to be in the yard with them. First, we had to move them into their inner cage, which we did with food lures, as I’ve been told is often the case when moving animals at zoos.
Once inside the safe house, Sherry and I brought in the trash and raked and started our regular cleaning routine. This seemingly simple task is complicated by a curious and persistent crane. The African gray-crowned crane (also known as the African crane) is not a shy bird. In fact, quite the opposite. This handsome guy has dark gray and white fur with orange accents, but his most notable feature is the feathered crown on his head, a testament to his name. This particular crane seems to be mesmerized by me. He watched my every move and pecked at my heels and back whenever he got the chance.
My time in that barn felt like a waste of my work in the barn yard when I was being watched by the Rocky calf. Both of these animals seemed to notice the “new” volunteer and curiously chased after me. In the case of Sir Crane (as I call him), I scratched, felt one and turned towards the source. When I turned to face him, he would stop and act like he hadn’t done anything. But as soon as I get back to my duties, he’ll be back to his duties—and apparently, pecking me is his. This takes a few minutes: scratch, peck, flip; scratch, peck, flip – repeat over and over again.
Sherry was as puzzled by his attention as I was, and asked me, “Are you wearing any glitter?”
I look down and check my outfit—jeans, volunteer polo shirt, boots (I don’t need tennis shoes anymore), jacket. “No,” I replied, “not that I can see. . .”
“Well, I never saw him do that. . .” she frowned.
“Is there somewhere we can put him while I’m scratching?” I ask.
“No apologies . . . but he’s really harmless,” she replied and went back to her raking business.
He certainly doesn’t feel harmless. I love this quirky little bird, but its pecks are sometimes painful and always surprising—even though I knew they were coming! One thing is for sure, he always keeps me safe.
I hadn’t pecked it for about five minutes and was starting to think he’d lost interest in me when I turned around and saw my new friend bouncing around and flapping his wings.
Sherry also saw him. “I thought it was a mating dance!” she exclaimed, and I think it was the first time I saw her excited about anything. I burst out laughing, “What? Really?” I feel honored.
After a while of “dancing,” he suddenly stopped, and we went back to our cleaning. Now go to scratch without you, I constantly think, why not have Mrs. Crane to accompany you.
taken from The Age of Spider Monkeys: And Other Revelations From Behind the Zoo.
Image of ChiemSeherin from Pixabay
