Miniaturezoo954
Well-Known Member
"WHOSE ZOO?
Are zoos for fun or instruction? For spectators or scholars? No doubt about the dignity of their history: Egyptian pharaohs were displaying wild animals 2,000 years before the birth of Christ, and since then almost every civilized people has been zoo keeping and zoo going. No doubt about their popularity, either. In the U.S., attendance at zoos is 112 million a year, far surpassing the annual combined attendance of professional baseball, football, basketball and hockey.
The people who run them like it to be known that zoos are a considerable cut above circuses and menageries. They emphasize that zoos are centers of education, conservation and research. Well, sometimes they are. And yet zoos are enduring and popular mainly because they give pleasure. Contemplating the shapes, sizes, colors and behavior of captive wild animals can be an esthetic experience. Or putting it another way, you can have a high old time looking at them. Let's see how things are going in the best American zoos.
THE NATIONAL ZOOLOGICAL PARK
This is the most popular zoo in the country, with five million visitors annually. More important, it is one of the finest zoological collections in the world and the national collection. The National Zoo began casually. In the 1880s the Smithsonian Institution maintained a small collection of caged animals in a compound behind the museum. The beasts were for artists and taxidermists who might need them for museum displays. However, the wild animals became an attraction in the capital, and Congress voted funds to move them to Rock Creek Park and establish a permanent zoo administered by the Smithsonian.
In the early summer, when the native trees and imported shrubbery are in bloom and birds are flitting about the ravines of Rock Creek, the National Zoo is one of the more delightful sanctuaries in urban America. Truthfully, the NZP is not now at its best, nor will it be for some while. Construction crews dominate the scene. But be tolerant of this intrusion. It is part of a $40 million expansion and restoration project, which was badly needed to maintain the NZP's position among the great zoos of the world. The turn-of-the-century cages and buildings had become increasingly unsightly, obsolete and even unsafe; the exhibit specimens, older and shabbier. The Dog Walk, a row of dank metal pens on a ravine floor, displayed a collection of ratty, dispirited looking wild dogs in what had to be one of the most disagreeable zoo exhibits ever assembled. Now the Dog Walk has mercifully been razed.
The turning point in the zoo's decline came during the Kennedy administration. Young John Kennedy served as a FONZ volunteer (Friends of the National Zoo) and often took part in "preg watches" (sitting up all night to watch and listen to gravid tigers and bears). Sending one's children to zoos became Washington chic, and it has remained so. The city being what it is, this fashionable interest has been converted into appropriations.
Among the more visible results is a magnificent walkthrough aviary, the outdoor section of which is enclosed under a swooping, free-form canopy of gauzy mesh. It is the architectural spectacular of the NZP. Many of the new exhibits depart boldly from old styles of design and display. In the renovated monkey house that opened this summer, the enclosures are furnished with what amounts to pieces of wood sculpture upon which the animals exercise and play. The shapes are visually interesting and test runs indicated that the monkeys find them entertaining.
While enlarging its facilities, the NZP has been reducing the number of animals it displays. Since 1962, more than 200 species have been dropped, leaving about 600 on the rolls, a total that ranks only 12th among American zoos. However, Theodore Reed, the NZP director, is proud rather than apologetic about this reduction. "Stamp collecting [competition among zoos to acquire the most and rarest animals] is pretty much a thing of the past," he says. "Mainstream zoos should exhibit the classic animals, but in other areas competition on the basis of numbers doesn't make much sense. An exhibit of 50 primates may not be as interesting for the general visitor as one of 25, and the chances are the zoo will do a better job with fewer animals."
Generally, the less-is-better philosophy has been vindicated at the NZP by the reproductive activity, a traditional measure of the well-being of captive animals. Since 1962, the reproductive rate has increased from 220 births among 68 species to 421 births among 75 species.
Probably the best-known animals of the NZP are the giant pandas that arrived in 1972 from The People's Republic of China, a gift more significant diplomatically than zoologically. The pandas are housed in a large indoor-outdoor building vaguely suggesting a suburban split-level home. Splendid as the complex is, the pandas are not exceptional zoo exhibits, tending to be retiring, more out of natural sloth than timidity. Two nearby displays, one of kangaroos and another of meerkats—perky little relatives of the mongoose—are on all counts but fame better exhibits. The animals are lively and relaxed, the enclosures attractive and a visitor can watch the meerkats and kangaroos without being jostled.
Nevertheless, the pandas remain the superstars of the Washington zoo and have drawn an extra million visitors. A number of Washington VIPs have wanted pictures of themselves and their constituents with the pandas and it has become a traditional function of the NZP to cope with such PR situations, especially when a foreign government or politician decided to donate a wild animal. Because of this, some excellent bears, elephants, tigers, goats and other beasts have come to the zoo, but so have some special problems. Donors expect the zoo to provide important and prominent display areas for their gifts and tend to be impatient and unsympathetic when these are slow in coming. Celebrity animals require celebrity treatment. Being a politically dependent institution in the most political of cities, the NZP does what it must do in these matters.
With all its concerns, the NZP still manages to be one of the leading research zoos in the world. Currently, $700,000 a year is budgeted to support 40 projects. For example, the zoo's chief veterinarian, Clinton Grey, is now developing a method for making reversible contraceptive implants in big cats. Felines breed so readily in captivity that disposing of lion, tiger and leopard kittens is a real problem. Since it is becoming more difficult to find and collect these animals in the wild, nobody wants to sterilize the zoo stock, and separating the sexes increases management problems and may alter behavior. A reversible contraceptive would allow young animals to be produced more or less on a space-available basis. Other scientists working with NZP have recently investigated such complicated matters as social weaning among three-toed sloths, the activity patterns of silky anteaters and the role of olfaction in the mating behavior of hamsters.
"We feel that beyond its responsibility to the visiting public, a major zoo has a responsibility to other species," says Ted Reed. "So we support general zoological research. Another obvious way to help is by providing a sanctuary for some species. The P�re David's deer and Przewalski's horse, for example, are two beasts that no longer survive in the wild. Their native habitat is now a zoo. The Siberian tiger, Arabian oryx, golden marmoset and a good many others may very shortly be in this category. If breeding populations can be established in zoos, maybe in time we can find ways to reestablish them in the wild. Or at least preserve some of these critically endangered animals as we preserve great works of art. The unique genetic combination that makes up a living species is of course irreplaceable."
THE BRONX ZOO
The Bronx opened in 1899 largely because a group of wealthy New Yorkers—Roosevelts, Carnegies, Osborns, La Farges, Roots and Grants—felt it unseemly that Washington and Philadelphia should have zoos while their city did not.
Through the years affluent New Yorkers have done as much for the Bronx—occasionally even leading zoological field parties—as diplomats, politicans and federal agencies have done for the NZP. Because of its wealth and influence, the Bronx became the first American zoo to exhibit musk oxen, gorillas, okapis, king penguins and a duckbill platypus.
The Bronx may also have been the first and last U.S. zoo to exhibit a man, although European zoos frequently showed men in what were called ethnographic displays. Ota Benga, a Congo pygmy brought over for the St. Louis World's Fair, decided he didn't want to go back home when the fair closed. An arrangement was made to "board" him at the Bronx zoo for a few weeks in September 1906. The zoo director, William Hornaday, explained that by having Ota Benga cavort about in the chimp cage he was only placing the "interesting little African where the people of New York may see him without annoyance or discomfort to him." However, the display caused howls of public protest. Ota Benga left the zoo, was passed along as the ward of various individuals and charitable groups, until he committed suicide near Lynchburg, Va.
The Bronx, like its longtime institutional colleague and competitor, the National, found itself in midcentury with a plant that was growing increasingly run-down and unattractive and it, too, has embarked on construction and renovation projects, though not as costly or extensive as those going on in Washington.
One of the most interesting and ingenious is the World of Darkness, a unique complex in which the visitor walks through darkened halls, past glass-fronted enclosures dimly lit with bluish or reddish lights. Each alcove is devoted to an environmentally homogeneous group of nocturnal mammals—birds, reptiles and amphibians—many of which would not be active in a conventionally lighted display. The best of the many fine World of Darkness alcoves is a recreation of a Caribbean limestone cave. Many fanciers feel that in no other zoo are bats, for obvious reasons hard to exhibit, so well displayed.
Of the new Bronx exhibits the most publicized and costly is the World of Birds. This is a 30,000-square-foot skylighted aviary displaying 200 species. The building, which was opened three years ago, cost $4 million, donated by Lila Acheson Wallace, a co-founder of Reader's Digest .
To some, the World of Birds aviary may seem overrated, less effective perhaps than the simpler aquatic birdhouse that has a lovely group of puffins displayed against simulated sea cliffs, over and around which surges an artificial tide. In the World of Birds the lavish plantings sometimes seem to overwhelm the occupants. There is a feeling about the place that it is as much a showcase for money, technology and the designers' arts as it is for birds.
The display signs of the new building are bright and slick and ferociously message-directed. More often than not, the message bears down heavily on the only-man-is-vile thesis of popular ecology. One Bronx sign, appearing just below a mirror, reads, THIS ANIMAL...IS THE ONLY CREATURE THAT HAS EVER KILLED OFF ENTIRE SPECIES OF OTHER ANIMALS.
THE ST. LOUIS ZOO
Following the collapse of the Roman Empire, the great zoos of antiquity were abandoned. Now and then a potentate or prelate would put together a menagerie, but it was largely for the amusement of the upper classes. However, between 1765 and 1865, as a result of new affluence and geographical and zoological discoveries, public zoos were founded. Many of the best were in European cities—Berlin, Frankfurt, Cologne, Dresden, Hamburg, Amsterdam, Antwerp, Vienna, Bern. The zoological parks became important cultural centers, places where city people congregated, socialized and were entertained.
In the U.S. this old tradition of the zoo as an urban amenity has flourished best in the midland metropolises—Chicago, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Detroit, Milwaukee, St. Louis—which, not coincidentally, are workingmen's cities with sizable populations of Middle European descent. It is difficult to choose among Midwestern zoos, but any fancier who has missed St. Louis is in the position of a Sherlock Holmes fan who has not read The Hound of the Baskervilles.
Set in Forest Park, the roomy and heavily wooded site of the 1904 World's Fair, the zoo and grounds have a kind of urbanity about them, and the zoo is cleaner than others of its size. The crowds seem to be more leisurely than in Washington or New York and the kids less inclined to throw stones and insults at the animals. There are police, as there must be now in any city zoo, but they are mounted on horses, a touch that helps sustain the gentle turn-of-the-century atmosphere. (Patting a horse still gives city children more satisfaction than kicking a motorcycle.)
All in all, the impression is that Gem�tlichkeitprevails. Nowhere is this agreeability more evident than at the foot of a series of pools and cascades flowing through the main pedestrian mall. The promenade overlooks a pool of incessantly active sea lions. Above, a fine pair of river otters have a clear creek pool and a stretch of lawn on which to scamper and chatter. Across a lake filled with uncaged waterfowl are the Bear Pits, which though built in 1921 are still considered the best in the world. St. Louis being St. Louis, good beer is also served on this terrace. It is a grand place to idle away half an hour.
The style of the exhibits contributes to a sense of spaciousness that causes St. Louis to appear less cluttered and crowded than the Eastern zoos. The monkey house is a good example. The building is dominated by a very large enclosure holding four colobus monkeys—large, showy black and white animals with elegant fringed coats. The cage, a traditional barred structure, is roomy but not fancy and furnished sparsely with swings, limbs and platforms. Small but immaculately clean cages displaying a representative collection of other small primates encircle the rest of the building. However, the colobus monkeys are the focus of the building and give a better sense of "monkeyness" than would be the case if the center piece were divided into smaller alcoves with more species.
St. Louis is not a major research institution, but rather a busy educational center. Some 35,000 St. Louis schoolchildren come to the zoo either for short summer courses or on guided tours. Local universities offer behavior and biology courses, which meet regularly at the zoo. St. Louis has had notable success in managing rare and endangered species. It is the only zoo with a breeding herd of Speke's gazelles and one of the few where black lemurs have been propagated. Recently, a pleasant three-acre tract of woods and grassland was set aside as a Cheetah Survival Center. It is stocked with four of these cats, which are the objects of continuing observation in hopes that information collected may facilitate future breeding. The survival center is an experimental project, but it is also open to the public. No attempt has been made to disguise the Missouri glade as an African scene, and because of this restraint it is one of the more attractive cheetah exhibitions in the country.
Not open for public display is an environmental chamber for tuataras, located in the basement of the Reptile House. The tuatara is a primitive reptile, one of the surviving links to the age of the dinosaurs. It is found only on a few New Zealand islands. The government of New Zealand has permitted the export of a very few pairs to major zoos, in hopes of establishing breeding colonies. Last year the St. Louis pair laid 11 eggs in the temperature-, humidity and light-controlled terrarium. The eggs, the first produced in this country, were infertile, but the prospects for future hatchings are thought promising.
A splendid feature at St. Louis is the Charles Yalem Children's Zoo, a thoughtfully designed compound opened in 1969. Children's areas have been installed in many zoos and most feature some sort of supervised child-animal contact program. St. Louis has developed this sort of intimacy to perhaps its ultimate limits. Children can not only mingle with and touch the traditional kids, fawns, llamas and guinea pigs but also Kodiak bears, timber wolves, jaguars, kangaroos, ferrets, kinkajous, birds of prey and pythons. Thus far there have been no accidents or unfortunate incidents.
THE SAN DIEGO ZOO
It did not get its start in the world as the ward of a public agency or a committee of affluent Establishment leaders. Rather, the San Diego Zoo was the inspiration and creation of a physician, Harry Wegeforth, who in 1916 decided his city needed such a place. Wegeforth devoted 25 years and his formidable promotional talents toward achieving this end. During hard times, which were frequent in the early days, Wegeforth was not above begging seal food from fishing boats, putting clandestine taps on the San Diego water mains, or staging, as a fund raiser, a battle royal between a king snake and a rattlesnake. On one occasion, Wegeforth wanted a pair of elephants but did not have the money to pay for them. He approached a potential donor, who said he would only pay for white elephants, whereupon Wegeforth had a keeper douse the elephants with talcum powder. The ruse did not fool the moneyman, but its audacity charmed him, and the check for the elephants was forthcoming.
While the San Diego Zoo no longer has to resort to such outrageous hustles, the need to support itself by its own devices remains. Though it is located in Balboa Park on municipal land, only about 2% of the Zoological Society's $14 million yearly budget (far and away the largest of any zoo in the country) is contributed by the city. Otherwise it is dependent upon donations, gate receipts and concession sales. An interesting consequence rises from this situation. San Diego is ahead of all zoos in employing public relations people: it has eight, the Bronx two, Washington two and St. Louis only one.
"We can maintain and improve this zoo only if we generate income," says Charles Bieler, one of the few major zoo directors with a sales rather than a zoological background. "In Southern California there are 14 big outdoor attractions—Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, Sea World, etc.—and all of us are competing for the entertainment dollar. We promote and market our attraction aggressively, because it is a matter of survival and we think the survival of this institution is important."
Few zoo fanciers would dispute Bieler's point that the San Diego Zoo is worth saving. With 1,100 species and subspecies and 4,000 specimens, San Diego's is by far the largest terrestrial collection in the U.S. More than a hundred species are officially regarded as rare or endangered; and other animals, such as the koalas (which are among the superstars), are seldom seen in zoo displays. San Diego has especially good and varied exhibits of marsupials, primates, felines, wild dogs, antelope, waterfowl, pheasants, parrots, birds of prey, turtles, tortoises and snakes.
The zoo and its adjunct, the Wild Animal Park, constitute one of the premier breeding institutions in the world. Fifty-four species of mammals reproduced at the zoo last year. A recent coup for the park involved cheetahs, which reproduced successfully for the first time in an American zoo. Good management and weather have contributed to the propagation record, but necessity may also have had something to do with it. Ever since the days of Harry Wegeforth, disposing of zoo-bred animals has been an important source of income. The $100,000 or so the San Diego Zoo spends annually to acquire new specimens is obtained by selling or trading animals it has raised.
In San Diego, zoological stamp collecting is not viewed as it is at other zoos. "One reason reducing collections is so fashionable right now is that a lot of the old-line zoos are in financial trouble," says Clyde Hill, the curator of mammals. "To a degree it is a matter of rationalizing what they are forced to do. I still believe that it is important for the public and important for zoological reasons to have a few major zoos which maintain comprehensive collections. For example, a pair of chimpanzees may be sufficient for a smaller, essentially local zoo, but here we exhibit two species and three subspecies, 12 animals in all. I think displaying variety in a family, a species, a genus is worthwhile."
The strength and to some extent weakness of the comprehensive approach is illustrated by the San Diego collection of Canidae, which includes 13 species and subspecies of wolves, foxes and wild dogs. The variety is unmatched and is a treat for those with a special interest in this family. However, many visitors seem to walk briskly by the display, giving the impression that once they have seen one or two dogs they have seen them all. There is some reason for this. The dog runs are located on the side of a canyon, ranked one next to the other. The enclosures are adequate, each a series of unadorned concrete ledges, but being so similar they make it appear that an Arctic fox is more or less the same as an Australian dingo.
There are exceptions—the reptile area, a secluded compound of outdoor pits and indoor glass-fronted cages is a marvelous collection and exhibit—but generally there are too many displays in San Diego and they are too crowded. ( San Diego is a relatively small zoo—only 100 acres.) A magnificent botanical display brightens the grounds but cannot disguise the fact that many of the cages, pits and corrals seem to have been jerry-built and are becoming old and shabby.
In fairness to the San Diego Zoo staff, which is aware of the deficiencies and anxious to correct them, it should be noted that while maintaining the mighty Balboa Park collection it has also built what amounts to a branch zoo, as modern and innovative as anybody could wish for. This is the Wild Animal Park, opened in 1972 after 10 years of planning and construction. It is located on an 1,800-acre tract 30 miles from downtown, against the flank of the Coastal Range Mountains.
The principal feature of the WAP is a series of large fenced fields that have been cleared of the native chaparral (and as far as possible, of coyotes, rattlesnakes and ground squirrels) and stocked with mixed herds of exotic beasts. At present, most of the animals are from Africa and Asia, with hoofed stock predominating, though there are large lion, tiger and cheetah paddocks.
Visitors are taken past the enclosures on a monorail. There is also a pleasant mile-long hiking trail, but it does not extend into the center of the park. The monorail provides many overviews of large free-roaming herds and family groups, which would not be available to a pedestrian. The major drawback to the monorail is that the riders are a captive audience for the tour conductors, who offer a nonstop Disneyland dialogue:
"I want to warn you folks about leaning against the door. We are passing directly over the lions and they haven't been fed yet."
"It takes 54 minutes to boil an ostrich egg. I guess ostrich eggs will never make it big as a commuter breakfast."
"Now there, folks, you see a peacock displaying his plumage. Eat your heart out, NBC."
To enter the Wild Animal Park, one walks through a beautifully designed aviary, which may be one of the most attractive entrances anywhere. The theme of the central WAP plaza is aggressively California-African. There is the Thorn Tree Terrace (a restaurant), the Mombasa Cooker (a snack bar), the Kraal (a children's contact zoo), the Simba Station (the Wgasa Bush Line monorail depot) and a Congo River fishing village that juts out over a rushing waterfall. All of which looks a lot better than it sounds. The buildings are new, clean and fun in a carnival kind of way. There is a lot of clear, flowing water, which is always appealing in parched Southern California. Below a lagoon filled with waterfowl and trimmed with flowering plants is a roomy exhibit of lowland gorillas.
There may be considerable gimmickry about the San Diego Wild Animal Park, but it is entertaining gimmickry and does not detract from the fact that this is an important experiment in keeping, managing and displaying animals in a different way and giving the visitor a new kind of zoo experience.
THE ARIZONA-SONORA DESERT MUSEUM
A small institution outside of Tucson, the ASDM is in the tradition of the transcendental naturalist, the tradition that has also given us Walden Pond and the Sierra Club.
The ASDM was established 23 years ago through the efforts of two men: Bill Carr, an iconoclastic naturalist who had previously created the nature trails and trailside museum system at Bear Mountain Park in New York; and Arthur Pack, a long-time patron of worthy nature projects. Since its creation, the ASDM has developed along the lines Carr and Pack envisioned, a place where nature is celebrated as well as displayed and explained. The Desert Museum draws 400,000 people a year; not a huge number, comparatively, but enough so that officials are beginning to think about limiting visitors. They don't want the problems that go with the crowds at other zoos. Donations, bequests and fees from members, 7,000 of whom are located across the nation and the world, come close to equaling gate receipts, and the zoo can probably afford to turn cash customers away.
The patrons of the Desert Museum are an especially sophisticated lot. They are often people who have memorized their Peterson, read their Klauber and Krutch and have come to Tucson especially to visit this establishment. When they get there they tend to look at it slowly, studiously and lovingly. Indicative of the character of both the place and its customers is the fact that the ASDM is probably the only institution of its kind that does not employ armed guards during visiting hours.
The ASDM staff has always objected to its exhibitions being thought of as "just a zoo." "None of us are old-style zoo types," says Merv Larson, the present director, principal designer and guru. "The staff is largely made up of people who have an interest in natural history, some talent for building things and who want to experiment with finding ways to communicate their ideas and feelings about natural history. We try to display and describe certain features of this particular region."
Museum-style exhibits deal with such phenomena as plant succession, the effect of rainfall, drought, erosion, ranching and agriculture in this desert region. The famous Tunnel Exhibit is a gallery of underground dens occupied by living desert creatures that a visitor can illuminate with switches. What many believe will be the finest exhibit of its kind anywhere, the Earth Sciences Center, is now being constructed. It is a beautiful display of geological phenomena set inside a limestone cave so realistically created that in the walk and climb through it, visitors will have experiences not unlike those of spelunkers in wild caverns. Among other things, the grotto will be furnished with pack rats, cave amphibians and bats that are free to come and go.
Ingenious as the museum displays are, sensitive as the ASDM is about being called a zoo, it is the frankly zoological exhibits that have been responsible for the popularity of the place. Though it has only about 220 species, all of which are native to Arizona or Sonora, the ASDM nevertheless offers a better collection of North American fauna than any other zoo in the country. Beyond being a recommendation for the Desert Museum, this illustrates a glaring weakness of American zoos. Despite pious talk about conservation education, most zoos generally either ignore or, in comparison to exotic imports, perfunctorily display North American fauna, the animals whose fates are most directly affected by the zoo-going public.
The location of the Desert Museum has enabled it to be an interesting zoo while showing only animals found nearby. The area that includes Arizona and the Mexican states of Sonora and the two Bajas encompasses an enormous variety of habitats: the desert, of course, but also subtropical swamps, deciduous woodlands, prairies, cold-water streams and pools, Alpine meadows and crags. In consequence, this is one of the richest zoological areas of the world. A regional zoo in Arizona can (as one in Indiana cannot) legitimately display creatures that for most Americans are exotic. The ASDM exhibits six species of cats; also, bears, wolves, a variety of hoofed stock, curious lesser beasts such as the coatimundi, a great many flashy birds and impressive-to-spooky reptiles.
High-fidelity naturalism, placing animals from scorpions, frogs and small rodents on up in exceptionally accurate habitat tableaux, is the essential style of the Desert Museum. The results are remarkable. For example, meeting a bobcat in one of the grottoes at the ASDM is visually very much like meeting it in a dry gulch in the Baboquivari Mountains, which are in fact visible from the museum grounds through the surrounding forests of saguaro cacti. With all the artful rock work in the world, the same experience cannot be created by putting an African lion in the remains of an Eastern woodland thicket and showing him against the sights, sounds and smells of the Bronx.
There are moments when naturalism is pushed close to its limits at the Desert Museum. Occasionally, a bobcat, among other examples, will drift down from the mountains, slip through the saguaros and show up on the museum grounds. Or a terrible squeal will now and then be heard. It signifies that a wild rabbit or ground squirrel in the course of foraging has wandered into a cat grotto and there, naturally, become the prey of a cat, just as he might in the Baboquivaris.
Perhaps the loveliest of the ASDM tableaux is a pair of stream-fed cottonwood shaded pools, like those sometimes found gouged out of rock in the mountains of southern Arizona. They are constructed so that visitors are provided with both overlooking and underwater views of river otters, beavers, associated waterfowl, fish and amphibians. There are some well-traveled fanciers who believe these are the best zoo exhibits in the world, suggesting the possibility that zoological display can be raised to the level of fine art.
Such judgments are, of course, a matter of opinion, so perhaps a collective opinion makes a logical conclusion to consideration of the ASDM. In the course of talking about this and that, Ted Reed, the director of the National Zoo, Wayne King, the Bronx Director of Conservation, Charlie Hoessle, the St. Louis general curator, and Clyde Hill, the San Diego curator of mammals, were all asked the same question: If they had unlimited time and the urge to take a busman's holiday, what American zoo, other than their own, would they visit? Without much qualification or hesitation, all four selected the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum."
Bil Gilbert
What a walk thru memory lane, i love reading material like this, i wanted to share it with those of you who might be interested as well, i understand that the evolution of today's zoos has been nothing but a great thing, but i can't help to miss some of the aspects of the past, so many more species back then, so much to see? it is clear to me that the conditions of these collections must have been terrible, but imagine a modern zoo, with exhibits like Congo, Artic Ring of Life, and so many others, with over 1000 animal species, all in world class exhibits, too bad there is no interest from the general public, to pay for something like this, it would be a dream, one can only dream now.
Are zoos for fun or instruction? For spectators or scholars? No doubt about the dignity of their history: Egyptian pharaohs were displaying wild animals 2,000 years before the birth of Christ, and since then almost every civilized people has been zoo keeping and zoo going. No doubt about their popularity, either. In the U.S., attendance at zoos is 112 million a year, far surpassing the annual combined attendance of professional baseball, football, basketball and hockey.
The people who run them like it to be known that zoos are a considerable cut above circuses and menageries. They emphasize that zoos are centers of education, conservation and research. Well, sometimes they are. And yet zoos are enduring and popular mainly because they give pleasure. Contemplating the shapes, sizes, colors and behavior of captive wild animals can be an esthetic experience. Or putting it another way, you can have a high old time looking at them. Let's see how things are going in the best American zoos.
THE NATIONAL ZOOLOGICAL PARK
This is the most popular zoo in the country, with five million visitors annually. More important, it is one of the finest zoological collections in the world and the national collection. The National Zoo began casually. In the 1880s the Smithsonian Institution maintained a small collection of caged animals in a compound behind the museum. The beasts were for artists and taxidermists who might need them for museum displays. However, the wild animals became an attraction in the capital, and Congress voted funds to move them to Rock Creek Park and establish a permanent zoo administered by the Smithsonian.
In the early summer, when the native trees and imported shrubbery are in bloom and birds are flitting about the ravines of Rock Creek, the National Zoo is one of the more delightful sanctuaries in urban America. Truthfully, the NZP is not now at its best, nor will it be for some while. Construction crews dominate the scene. But be tolerant of this intrusion. It is part of a $40 million expansion and restoration project, which was badly needed to maintain the NZP's position among the great zoos of the world. The turn-of-the-century cages and buildings had become increasingly unsightly, obsolete and even unsafe; the exhibit specimens, older and shabbier. The Dog Walk, a row of dank metal pens on a ravine floor, displayed a collection of ratty, dispirited looking wild dogs in what had to be one of the most disagreeable zoo exhibits ever assembled. Now the Dog Walk has mercifully been razed.
The turning point in the zoo's decline came during the Kennedy administration. Young John Kennedy served as a FONZ volunteer (Friends of the National Zoo) and often took part in "preg watches" (sitting up all night to watch and listen to gravid tigers and bears). Sending one's children to zoos became Washington chic, and it has remained so. The city being what it is, this fashionable interest has been converted into appropriations.
Among the more visible results is a magnificent walkthrough aviary, the outdoor section of which is enclosed under a swooping, free-form canopy of gauzy mesh. It is the architectural spectacular of the NZP. Many of the new exhibits depart boldly from old styles of design and display. In the renovated monkey house that opened this summer, the enclosures are furnished with what amounts to pieces of wood sculpture upon which the animals exercise and play. The shapes are visually interesting and test runs indicated that the monkeys find them entertaining.
While enlarging its facilities, the NZP has been reducing the number of animals it displays. Since 1962, more than 200 species have been dropped, leaving about 600 on the rolls, a total that ranks only 12th among American zoos. However, Theodore Reed, the NZP director, is proud rather than apologetic about this reduction. "Stamp collecting [competition among zoos to acquire the most and rarest animals] is pretty much a thing of the past," he says. "Mainstream zoos should exhibit the classic animals, but in other areas competition on the basis of numbers doesn't make much sense. An exhibit of 50 primates may not be as interesting for the general visitor as one of 25, and the chances are the zoo will do a better job with fewer animals."
Generally, the less-is-better philosophy has been vindicated at the NZP by the reproductive activity, a traditional measure of the well-being of captive animals. Since 1962, the reproductive rate has increased from 220 births among 68 species to 421 births among 75 species.
Probably the best-known animals of the NZP are the giant pandas that arrived in 1972 from The People's Republic of China, a gift more significant diplomatically than zoologically. The pandas are housed in a large indoor-outdoor building vaguely suggesting a suburban split-level home. Splendid as the complex is, the pandas are not exceptional zoo exhibits, tending to be retiring, more out of natural sloth than timidity. Two nearby displays, one of kangaroos and another of meerkats—perky little relatives of the mongoose—are on all counts but fame better exhibits. The animals are lively and relaxed, the enclosures attractive and a visitor can watch the meerkats and kangaroos without being jostled.
Nevertheless, the pandas remain the superstars of the Washington zoo and have drawn an extra million visitors. A number of Washington VIPs have wanted pictures of themselves and their constituents with the pandas and it has become a traditional function of the NZP to cope with such PR situations, especially when a foreign government or politician decided to donate a wild animal. Because of this, some excellent bears, elephants, tigers, goats and other beasts have come to the zoo, but so have some special problems. Donors expect the zoo to provide important and prominent display areas for their gifts and tend to be impatient and unsympathetic when these are slow in coming. Celebrity animals require celebrity treatment. Being a politically dependent institution in the most political of cities, the NZP does what it must do in these matters.
With all its concerns, the NZP still manages to be one of the leading research zoos in the world. Currently, $700,000 a year is budgeted to support 40 projects. For example, the zoo's chief veterinarian, Clinton Grey, is now developing a method for making reversible contraceptive implants in big cats. Felines breed so readily in captivity that disposing of lion, tiger and leopard kittens is a real problem. Since it is becoming more difficult to find and collect these animals in the wild, nobody wants to sterilize the zoo stock, and separating the sexes increases management problems and may alter behavior. A reversible contraceptive would allow young animals to be produced more or less on a space-available basis. Other scientists working with NZP have recently investigated such complicated matters as social weaning among three-toed sloths, the activity patterns of silky anteaters and the role of olfaction in the mating behavior of hamsters.
"We feel that beyond its responsibility to the visiting public, a major zoo has a responsibility to other species," says Ted Reed. "So we support general zoological research. Another obvious way to help is by providing a sanctuary for some species. The P�re David's deer and Przewalski's horse, for example, are two beasts that no longer survive in the wild. Their native habitat is now a zoo. The Siberian tiger, Arabian oryx, golden marmoset and a good many others may very shortly be in this category. If breeding populations can be established in zoos, maybe in time we can find ways to reestablish them in the wild. Or at least preserve some of these critically endangered animals as we preserve great works of art. The unique genetic combination that makes up a living species is of course irreplaceable."
THE BRONX ZOO
The Bronx opened in 1899 largely because a group of wealthy New Yorkers—Roosevelts, Carnegies, Osborns, La Farges, Roots and Grants—felt it unseemly that Washington and Philadelphia should have zoos while their city did not.
Through the years affluent New Yorkers have done as much for the Bronx—occasionally even leading zoological field parties—as diplomats, politicans and federal agencies have done for the NZP. Because of its wealth and influence, the Bronx became the first American zoo to exhibit musk oxen, gorillas, okapis, king penguins and a duckbill platypus.
The Bronx may also have been the first and last U.S. zoo to exhibit a man, although European zoos frequently showed men in what were called ethnographic displays. Ota Benga, a Congo pygmy brought over for the St. Louis World's Fair, decided he didn't want to go back home when the fair closed. An arrangement was made to "board" him at the Bronx zoo for a few weeks in September 1906. The zoo director, William Hornaday, explained that by having Ota Benga cavort about in the chimp cage he was only placing the "interesting little African where the people of New York may see him without annoyance or discomfort to him." However, the display caused howls of public protest. Ota Benga left the zoo, was passed along as the ward of various individuals and charitable groups, until he committed suicide near Lynchburg, Va.
The Bronx, like its longtime institutional colleague and competitor, the National, found itself in midcentury with a plant that was growing increasingly run-down and unattractive and it, too, has embarked on construction and renovation projects, though not as costly or extensive as those going on in Washington.
One of the most interesting and ingenious is the World of Darkness, a unique complex in which the visitor walks through darkened halls, past glass-fronted enclosures dimly lit with bluish or reddish lights. Each alcove is devoted to an environmentally homogeneous group of nocturnal mammals—birds, reptiles and amphibians—many of which would not be active in a conventionally lighted display. The best of the many fine World of Darkness alcoves is a recreation of a Caribbean limestone cave. Many fanciers feel that in no other zoo are bats, for obvious reasons hard to exhibit, so well displayed.
Of the new Bronx exhibits the most publicized and costly is the World of Birds. This is a 30,000-square-foot skylighted aviary displaying 200 species. The building, which was opened three years ago, cost $4 million, donated by Lila Acheson Wallace, a co-founder of Reader's Digest .
To some, the World of Birds aviary may seem overrated, less effective perhaps than the simpler aquatic birdhouse that has a lovely group of puffins displayed against simulated sea cliffs, over and around which surges an artificial tide. In the World of Birds the lavish plantings sometimes seem to overwhelm the occupants. There is a feeling about the place that it is as much a showcase for money, technology and the designers' arts as it is for birds.
The display signs of the new building are bright and slick and ferociously message-directed. More often than not, the message bears down heavily on the only-man-is-vile thesis of popular ecology. One Bronx sign, appearing just below a mirror, reads, THIS ANIMAL...IS THE ONLY CREATURE THAT HAS EVER KILLED OFF ENTIRE SPECIES OF OTHER ANIMALS.
THE ST. LOUIS ZOO
Following the collapse of the Roman Empire, the great zoos of antiquity were abandoned. Now and then a potentate or prelate would put together a menagerie, but it was largely for the amusement of the upper classes. However, between 1765 and 1865, as a result of new affluence and geographical and zoological discoveries, public zoos were founded. Many of the best were in European cities—Berlin, Frankfurt, Cologne, Dresden, Hamburg, Amsterdam, Antwerp, Vienna, Bern. The zoological parks became important cultural centers, places where city people congregated, socialized and were entertained.
In the U.S. this old tradition of the zoo as an urban amenity has flourished best in the midland metropolises—Chicago, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Detroit, Milwaukee, St. Louis—which, not coincidentally, are workingmen's cities with sizable populations of Middle European descent. It is difficult to choose among Midwestern zoos, but any fancier who has missed St. Louis is in the position of a Sherlock Holmes fan who has not read The Hound of the Baskervilles.
Set in Forest Park, the roomy and heavily wooded site of the 1904 World's Fair, the zoo and grounds have a kind of urbanity about them, and the zoo is cleaner than others of its size. The crowds seem to be more leisurely than in Washington or New York and the kids less inclined to throw stones and insults at the animals. There are police, as there must be now in any city zoo, but they are mounted on horses, a touch that helps sustain the gentle turn-of-the-century atmosphere. (Patting a horse still gives city children more satisfaction than kicking a motorcycle.)
All in all, the impression is that Gem�tlichkeitprevails. Nowhere is this agreeability more evident than at the foot of a series of pools and cascades flowing through the main pedestrian mall. The promenade overlooks a pool of incessantly active sea lions. Above, a fine pair of river otters have a clear creek pool and a stretch of lawn on which to scamper and chatter. Across a lake filled with uncaged waterfowl are the Bear Pits, which though built in 1921 are still considered the best in the world. St. Louis being St. Louis, good beer is also served on this terrace. It is a grand place to idle away half an hour.
The style of the exhibits contributes to a sense of spaciousness that causes St. Louis to appear less cluttered and crowded than the Eastern zoos. The monkey house is a good example. The building is dominated by a very large enclosure holding four colobus monkeys—large, showy black and white animals with elegant fringed coats. The cage, a traditional barred structure, is roomy but not fancy and furnished sparsely with swings, limbs and platforms. Small but immaculately clean cages displaying a representative collection of other small primates encircle the rest of the building. However, the colobus monkeys are the focus of the building and give a better sense of "monkeyness" than would be the case if the center piece were divided into smaller alcoves with more species.
St. Louis is not a major research institution, but rather a busy educational center. Some 35,000 St. Louis schoolchildren come to the zoo either for short summer courses or on guided tours. Local universities offer behavior and biology courses, which meet regularly at the zoo. St. Louis has had notable success in managing rare and endangered species. It is the only zoo with a breeding herd of Speke's gazelles and one of the few where black lemurs have been propagated. Recently, a pleasant three-acre tract of woods and grassland was set aside as a Cheetah Survival Center. It is stocked with four of these cats, which are the objects of continuing observation in hopes that information collected may facilitate future breeding. The survival center is an experimental project, but it is also open to the public. No attempt has been made to disguise the Missouri glade as an African scene, and because of this restraint it is one of the more attractive cheetah exhibitions in the country.
Not open for public display is an environmental chamber for tuataras, located in the basement of the Reptile House. The tuatara is a primitive reptile, one of the surviving links to the age of the dinosaurs. It is found only on a few New Zealand islands. The government of New Zealand has permitted the export of a very few pairs to major zoos, in hopes of establishing breeding colonies. Last year the St. Louis pair laid 11 eggs in the temperature-, humidity and light-controlled terrarium. The eggs, the first produced in this country, were infertile, but the prospects for future hatchings are thought promising.
A splendid feature at St. Louis is the Charles Yalem Children's Zoo, a thoughtfully designed compound opened in 1969. Children's areas have been installed in many zoos and most feature some sort of supervised child-animal contact program. St. Louis has developed this sort of intimacy to perhaps its ultimate limits. Children can not only mingle with and touch the traditional kids, fawns, llamas and guinea pigs but also Kodiak bears, timber wolves, jaguars, kangaroos, ferrets, kinkajous, birds of prey and pythons. Thus far there have been no accidents or unfortunate incidents.
THE SAN DIEGO ZOO
It did not get its start in the world as the ward of a public agency or a committee of affluent Establishment leaders. Rather, the San Diego Zoo was the inspiration and creation of a physician, Harry Wegeforth, who in 1916 decided his city needed such a place. Wegeforth devoted 25 years and his formidable promotional talents toward achieving this end. During hard times, which were frequent in the early days, Wegeforth was not above begging seal food from fishing boats, putting clandestine taps on the San Diego water mains, or staging, as a fund raiser, a battle royal between a king snake and a rattlesnake. On one occasion, Wegeforth wanted a pair of elephants but did not have the money to pay for them. He approached a potential donor, who said he would only pay for white elephants, whereupon Wegeforth had a keeper douse the elephants with talcum powder. The ruse did not fool the moneyman, but its audacity charmed him, and the check for the elephants was forthcoming.
While the San Diego Zoo no longer has to resort to such outrageous hustles, the need to support itself by its own devices remains. Though it is located in Balboa Park on municipal land, only about 2% of the Zoological Society's $14 million yearly budget (far and away the largest of any zoo in the country) is contributed by the city. Otherwise it is dependent upon donations, gate receipts and concession sales. An interesting consequence rises from this situation. San Diego is ahead of all zoos in employing public relations people: it has eight, the Bronx two, Washington two and St. Louis only one.
"We can maintain and improve this zoo only if we generate income," says Charles Bieler, one of the few major zoo directors with a sales rather than a zoological background. "In Southern California there are 14 big outdoor attractions—Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, Sea World, etc.—and all of us are competing for the entertainment dollar. We promote and market our attraction aggressively, because it is a matter of survival and we think the survival of this institution is important."
Few zoo fanciers would dispute Bieler's point that the San Diego Zoo is worth saving. With 1,100 species and subspecies and 4,000 specimens, San Diego's is by far the largest terrestrial collection in the U.S. More than a hundred species are officially regarded as rare or endangered; and other animals, such as the koalas (which are among the superstars), are seldom seen in zoo displays. San Diego has especially good and varied exhibits of marsupials, primates, felines, wild dogs, antelope, waterfowl, pheasants, parrots, birds of prey, turtles, tortoises and snakes.
The zoo and its adjunct, the Wild Animal Park, constitute one of the premier breeding institutions in the world. Fifty-four species of mammals reproduced at the zoo last year. A recent coup for the park involved cheetahs, which reproduced successfully for the first time in an American zoo. Good management and weather have contributed to the propagation record, but necessity may also have had something to do with it. Ever since the days of Harry Wegeforth, disposing of zoo-bred animals has been an important source of income. The $100,000 or so the San Diego Zoo spends annually to acquire new specimens is obtained by selling or trading animals it has raised.
In San Diego, zoological stamp collecting is not viewed as it is at other zoos. "One reason reducing collections is so fashionable right now is that a lot of the old-line zoos are in financial trouble," says Clyde Hill, the curator of mammals. "To a degree it is a matter of rationalizing what they are forced to do. I still believe that it is important for the public and important for zoological reasons to have a few major zoos which maintain comprehensive collections. For example, a pair of chimpanzees may be sufficient for a smaller, essentially local zoo, but here we exhibit two species and three subspecies, 12 animals in all. I think displaying variety in a family, a species, a genus is worthwhile."
The strength and to some extent weakness of the comprehensive approach is illustrated by the San Diego collection of Canidae, which includes 13 species and subspecies of wolves, foxes and wild dogs. The variety is unmatched and is a treat for those with a special interest in this family. However, many visitors seem to walk briskly by the display, giving the impression that once they have seen one or two dogs they have seen them all. There is some reason for this. The dog runs are located on the side of a canyon, ranked one next to the other. The enclosures are adequate, each a series of unadorned concrete ledges, but being so similar they make it appear that an Arctic fox is more or less the same as an Australian dingo.
There are exceptions—the reptile area, a secluded compound of outdoor pits and indoor glass-fronted cages is a marvelous collection and exhibit—but generally there are too many displays in San Diego and they are too crowded. ( San Diego is a relatively small zoo—only 100 acres.) A magnificent botanical display brightens the grounds but cannot disguise the fact that many of the cages, pits and corrals seem to have been jerry-built and are becoming old and shabby.
In fairness to the San Diego Zoo staff, which is aware of the deficiencies and anxious to correct them, it should be noted that while maintaining the mighty Balboa Park collection it has also built what amounts to a branch zoo, as modern and innovative as anybody could wish for. This is the Wild Animal Park, opened in 1972 after 10 years of planning and construction. It is located on an 1,800-acre tract 30 miles from downtown, against the flank of the Coastal Range Mountains.
The principal feature of the WAP is a series of large fenced fields that have been cleared of the native chaparral (and as far as possible, of coyotes, rattlesnakes and ground squirrels) and stocked with mixed herds of exotic beasts. At present, most of the animals are from Africa and Asia, with hoofed stock predominating, though there are large lion, tiger and cheetah paddocks.
Visitors are taken past the enclosures on a monorail. There is also a pleasant mile-long hiking trail, but it does not extend into the center of the park. The monorail provides many overviews of large free-roaming herds and family groups, which would not be available to a pedestrian. The major drawback to the monorail is that the riders are a captive audience for the tour conductors, who offer a nonstop Disneyland dialogue:
"I want to warn you folks about leaning against the door. We are passing directly over the lions and they haven't been fed yet."
"It takes 54 minutes to boil an ostrich egg. I guess ostrich eggs will never make it big as a commuter breakfast."
"Now there, folks, you see a peacock displaying his plumage. Eat your heart out, NBC."
To enter the Wild Animal Park, one walks through a beautifully designed aviary, which may be one of the most attractive entrances anywhere. The theme of the central WAP plaza is aggressively California-African. There is the Thorn Tree Terrace (a restaurant), the Mombasa Cooker (a snack bar), the Kraal (a children's contact zoo), the Simba Station (the Wgasa Bush Line monorail depot) and a Congo River fishing village that juts out over a rushing waterfall. All of which looks a lot better than it sounds. The buildings are new, clean and fun in a carnival kind of way. There is a lot of clear, flowing water, which is always appealing in parched Southern California. Below a lagoon filled with waterfowl and trimmed with flowering plants is a roomy exhibit of lowland gorillas.
There may be considerable gimmickry about the San Diego Wild Animal Park, but it is entertaining gimmickry and does not detract from the fact that this is an important experiment in keeping, managing and displaying animals in a different way and giving the visitor a new kind of zoo experience.
THE ARIZONA-SONORA DESERT MUSEUM
A small institution outside of Tucson, the ASDM is in the tradition of the transcendental naturalist, the tradition that has also given us Walden Pond and the Sierra Club.
The ASDM was established 23 years ago through the efforts of two men: Bill Carr, an iconoclastic naturalist who had previously created the nature trails and trailside museum system at Bear Mountain Park in New York; and Arthur Pack, a long-time patron of worthy nature projects. Since its creation, the ASDM has developed along the lines Carr and Pack envisioned, a place where nature is celebrated as well as displayed and explained. The Desert Museum draws 400,000 people a year; not a huge number, comparatively, but enough so that officials are beginning to think about limiting visitors. They don't want the problems that go with the crowds at other zoos. Donations, bequests and fees from members, 7,000 of whom are located across the nation and the world, come close to equaling gate receipts, and the zoo can probably afford to turn cash customers away.
The patrons of the Desert Museum are an especially sophisticated lot. They are often people who have memorized their Peterson, read their Klauber and Krutch and have come to Tucson especially to visit this establishment. When they get there they tend to look at it slowly, studiously and lovingly. Indicative of the character of both the place and its customers is the fact that the ASDM is probably the only institution of its kind that does not employ armed guards during visiting hours.
The ASDM staff has always objected to its exhibitions being thought of as "just a zoo." "None of us are old-style zoo types," says Merv Larson, the present director, principal designer and guru. "The staff is largely made up of people who have an interest in natural history, some talent for building things and who want to experiment with finding ways to communicate their ideas and feelings about natural history. We try to display and describe certain features of this particular region."
Museum-style exhibits deal with such phenomena as plant succession, the effect of rainfall, drought, erosion, ranching and agriculture in this desert region. The famous Tunnel Exhibit is a gallery of underground dens occupied by living desert creatures that a visitor can illuminate with switches. What many believe will be the finest exhibit of its kind anywhere, the Earth Sciences Center, is now being constructed. It is a beautiful display of geological phenomena set inside a limestone cave so realistically created that in the walk and climb through it, visitors will have experiences not unlike those of spelunkers in wild caverns. Among other things, the grotto will be furnished with pack rats, cave amphibians and bats that are free to come and go.
Ingenious as the museum displays are, sensitive as the ASDM is about being called a zoo, it is the frankly zoological exhibits that have been responsible for the popularity of the place. Though it has only about 220 species, all of which are native to Arizona or Sonora, the ASDM nevertheless offers a better collection of North American fauna than any other zoo in the country. Beyond being a recommendation for the Desert Museum, this illustrates a glaring weakness of American zoos. Despite pious talk about conservation education, most zoos generally either ignore or, in comparison to exotic imports, perfunctorily display North American fauna, the animals whose fates are most directly affected by the zoo-going public.
The location of the Desert Museum has enabled it to be an interesting zoo while showing only animals found nearby. The area that includes Arizona and the Mexican states of Sonora and the two Bajas encompasses an enormous variety of habitats: the desert, of course, but also subtropical swamps, deciduous woodlands, prairies, cold-water streams and pools, Alpine meadows and crags. In consequence, this is one of the richest zoological areas of the world. A regional zoo in Arizona can (as one in Indiana cannot) legitimately display creatures that for most Americans are exotic. The ASDM exhibits six species of cats; also, bears, wolves, a variety of hoofed stock, curious lesser beasts such as the coatimundi, a great many flashy birds and impressive-to-spooky reptiles.
High-fidelity naturalism, placing animals from scorpions, frogs and small rodents on up in exceptionally accurate habitat tableaux, is the essential style of the Desert Museum. The results are remarkable. For example, meeting a bobcat in one of the grottoes at the ASDM is visually very much like meeting it in a dry gulch in the Baboquivari Mountains, which are in fact visible from the museum grounds through the surrounding forests of saguaro cacti. With all the artful rock work in the world, the same experience cannot be created by putting an African lion in the remains of an Eastern woodland thicket and showing him against the sights, sounds and smells of the Bronx.
There are moments when naturalism is pushed close to its limits at the Desert Museum. Occasionally, a bobcat, among other examples, will drift down from the mountains, slip through the saguaros and show up on the museum grounds. Or a terrible squeal will now and then be heard. It signifies that a wild rabbit or ground squirrel in the course of foraging has wandered into a cat grotto and there, naturally, become the prey of a cat, just as he might in the Baboquivaris.
Perhaps the loveliest of the ASDM tableaux is a pair of stream-fed cottonwood shaded pools, like those sometimes found gouged out of rock in the mountains of southern Arizona. They are constructed so that visitors are provided with both overlooking and underwater views of river otters, beavers, associated waterfowl, fish and amphibians. There are some well-traveled fanciers who believe these are the best zoo exhibits in the world, suggesting the possibility that zoological display can be raised to the level of fine art.
Such judgments are, of course, a matter of opinion, so perhaps a collective opinion makes a logical conclusion to consideration of the ASDM. In the course of talking about this and that, Ted Reed, the director of the National Zoo, Wayne King, the Bronx Director of Conservation, Charlie Hoessle, the St. Louis general curator, and Clyde Hill, the San Diego curator of mammals, were all asked the same question: If they had unlimited time and the urge to take a busman's holiday, what American zoo, other than their own, would they visit? Without much qualification or hesitation, all four selected the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum."
Bil Gilbert
What a walk thru memory lane, i love reading material like this, i wanted to share it with those of you who might be interested as well, i understand that the evolution of today's zoos has been nothing but a great thing, but i can't help to miss some of the aspects of the past, so many more species back then, so much to see? it is clear to me that the conditions of these collections must have been terrible, but imagine a modern zoo, with exhibits like Congo, Artic Ring of Life, and so many others, with over 1000 animal species, all in world class exhibits, too bad there is no interest from the general public, to pay for something like this, it would be a dream, one can only dream now.
