Zoo #43: Berlin Tierpark, 10/08/2017 and 44#, Zoo Leipzig, 11/08/2017
Before coming on this trip I had 12 zoos that I expected would be very good chances of ranking in my top ten by the end of it. So far I had still only visited half of that list (Beauval, Basel, Zurich, Vienna, Prague and Berlin). The Tierpark wasn’t one of them, though it was part of a longer list of perhaps 25 to 30 that I figured would be in the frame for a top 20 finish. I didn’t know much about it: I knew that it was a sprawling size in both species and geographic terms, that it mostly dated to the 1950s and has some rather notorious indoor enclosures. I was geared up to have mixed feelings about it.
What I didn’t expect was to leave unsure whether I think the Zoo or Tierpark is the better Berlin. It’s a close run thing on points, and it comes down so often to what you choose to emphasise: the Zoo (or rather, Aquarium) reptile exhibits are of better quality, aesthetically and in size, but the Tierpark’s are still decent and it arguably has a better collection. I favour the Zoo, but only just. The Tierpark doesn’t do much in the way of fish exhibits, but some of those tanks are, gallon for gallon, amongst the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and the Zoo wins out on volume more than quality. The avian debate is rather more clear cut, I think: the Tierpark’s Fasanerie is very pleasant, and so remote from the bulk of the zoo that I had the run of the place to myself, but it’s not the equal of the zoo’s bird collection. I did do quite well with my passerine hunt, though.
Once we get to mammals, especially large mammals, we’re obviously starting to fight on the Tierpark’s terms. The species are about as hum(p)drum as they come, but is there an exhibit in Europe that does as much, aesthetically, with as little as the camel pastures? Wide open spaces, lightly stocked and separated by hahas, so that I had to check to ensure my suspicions – that the two herds were separated – was correct. I keep saying it, but hahas (editor’s note: I had to fix an autocorrect from ‘Hamas’ back to ‘hahas’) are woefully underused across the zoo world. Millions of dollars are sometimes spent trying to eliminate visual barriers: just dig a ditch.
This place must surely be the best ungulate zoo in Europe. Every single exhibit is so big that the animals can be kept in reasonable sized herds without being over-stocked. And while I’m not one of those who actively wants to see kulans, and kiangs, and Przewalski’s horses all in the space of two minutes, I enjoyed doing so here. It’s a call-back to the old logic of arranging species taxonomically so that visitors might ‘compare’ the differences. It’s a concept that has made way to the realities of limited space and limited collections at most zoos, but the Tierpark has the luxury of avoiding that constraint, and good on them for doing so.
It’s a bit more of a mixed bag for animals without hooves. Sooty Mangabey predicted to me privately that I’d hate the Alfred Brehm House, and – surprise – yep, he’s right. Woefully small outdoor enclosures and glorified dog boxes inside, and even the (I think) biggest of them, the indoor rock pile for a tiger, is horrible. Fill the most with deeper water and put penguins in it instead, I thought, though the notion is rendered moot by the ongoing redevelopment. I hope that means bigger living spaces for the carnivores, or it’s an utter waste of money and effort. And the glass cabinets for small birds, as helpful as they were for my passerine hunt, are also inadequate. There’s an easy solution for that, though: stick them all in the walk-through in the centre of the building. Done.
The other controversial indoor complex is the primate house. I’m less well equipped to comment on this one, as unlike the Alfred Brehm House (fully accessible inside, despite the work on the exterior) a large chunk of it was closed off for a paint job. What I saw was surprisingly good, though: unlike at the zoo, the indoor quarters had deep mulch beds and plenty of climbing options, and any deficiency there is outweighed by the HUGE outdoor cages. Not every primate here does so well, with a notable exception being the ring-failed lemur island (another autocorrect, but this time it’s quite apposite). The Japanese macaque cage is one of the best for macaques I’ve ever seen: so often consigned to concrete temples, I was thrilled to see something with space and grass. Mind you, I then found Barbary macaques in the remains of a Roman temple. You win some, you lose some I guess. The Tierpark is missing apes, obviously, which is weird because it’s the only major group of zoo animals that are absent, and I felt that at least one or two species from the zoo should be moved there.
And that’s the operative word, ‘moved’. Once more into the breach, lads, because if I upset the apple cart with the pig house this is going to blow the thing up entirely.
The idea of having a second, ‘open range’ site to complement an urban zoo has been taken up fitfully across the world: in London, San Diego, Tokyo and especially in Australia, where three of our four major zoos have open range sisters. The concept, I believe, is the right one: move many big animals, especially ungulates, to a second, bigger site and use the space recovered at your urban site to keep fewer ABCs in better enclosures.
It’s been botched to an extent in Australia. Monarto (autocorrect: ‘Monstrous’, apposite but out of context) is too big and sprawling for the animals it has available. Dubbo is simply too far away from Sydney and will never get the attendance it deserves. Werribee has by far the best location but the bus-only layout means it’s all over too quickly, and woe betide those whose bus ride includes a screaming baby. More importantly, Australian zoos have utterly screwed up the other half of the bargain: keeping fewer ABC is one thing, but if you don’t fill out the collection with more smaller species, all you’ve done is half empty your zoo. It’s especially egregious at my home disappointment, Melbourne, where so much of the space reclaimed from exhibits is now effectively empty, filled within bamboo or bushes or whatever they can think of to hide the fact that the zoo is only half what it once was.
What has this got to do with Berlin? Well, by an accident of history the combined Zoo and Tierpark have an opportunity to make this concept work like no other city. The Tierpark is enormous, at 160 hectares, but unlike Dubbo, Monarto, San Diego, Whipsnade or Tama it’s still right in the heart of its city, with a u-Bahn station and all. If any city had a chance to make the division of labour between a small urban zoo, that specialises in smaller species that it can house in sumptuous surrounds, and a big (also urban!) zoo for the bigger ABCs (and kiangs, kulans and Przewalski’s horses too) it’s Berlin.
But it’s seemingly not happening. Both collections are, in commercial terms, trying to do the same thing. The only diversification that matters, really, is that the Tierpark has tigers and the Zoo lions. Both zoos are great, but my Tierpark visit made me review my opinion of Berlin Zoo: it’s a wonderful zoo, but perhaps not the one it should be.
Now cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.
