Zoo #51: Cologne Zoo, 25/08/2017
With all due respect, good people of Zoochat, I’d much rather be watching Game of Thrones right now. I’m sitting on a train from Düsseldorf to… somewhere else, and the download I thought had completed before I left the hostel had not, in fact, downloaded. So I’ll write about Cologne instead, but if there’s a single spoiler in these comments well… valar morghulis, as they say.
One surprising weakness I’ve seen recurring through Germany is that quite a few zoos have what I consider to be unbalanced collections, too focused on mammals at the expense of birds and, more often, reptiles. Hamburg, Hanover, Nuremberg, Duisburg, Krefeld and to a lesser extent even Leipzig and Munich all followed this pattern. Luckily the ones that didn’t – both Berlins, Stuttgart, Frankfurt and Cologne – do a great job of making up for the imbalance at the others. Cologne manages to be an excellent mammal zoo, a good bird zoo and a very good reptile zoo.
I did the aquarium first – or rather second, I went through the children’s farm looking for the entrance to the aquarium, before discovering it was actually outside the main gate. Aquaria as components of a ‘zoo’ seems to be a strong, and perhaps predominantly German tradition: they’re entirely absent from Australia now, except in Canberra (which wouldn’t have an aquarium if the site hadn’t, in fact, initially been an aquarium), relatively rare in the US and have only popped up here or there outside the German-speaking countries in Europe, but throw in Basel and Zurich, and of the 15 generalist zoos I’ve visited in German-speaking cities 10 have significant aquarium buildings. Is this a good thing, or a double-edged sword? They certainly add to the zoos in which they feature, and there’s no good reason other than cost why it shouldn’t be as much a part of a standard zoo line-up as a reptile house, but I also suspect their relative ubiquity is a big part of the answer to SnowLeopard’s question about the lack of a major, standalone German aquarium.
Anyway, Cologne’s aquarium exhibits, both aquatic and reptilian, are at the upper end of the German zoo scale, though the Berlin’s remain undefeated. The best fish tank, I thought, was the Northern Australian tank for rainbowfish and lungfish: it struck me when I saw it how rarely you see lungfish with decent swimming space. They might be relatively immobile, but give them room and they will use it at least occasionally, as Cologne’s lungfish was when I visited. That’s a rule that applies generally across reptile and fish exhibits, I think. And the reptile and amphibian tanks are exceptional: primarily for tropical species (including several Papuan monitors, which are about as stunning as lizards get), they manage what is too often beyond zoos, creating habitats that are seemingly alive – they are moist, earthy, dense little excerpts of an ecological niche – and great exhibits, too.
The bird displays are a bit patchier, though I enjoyed the ever so slightly secluded cul-de-sac of aviaries. It’s increasingly rare to be surrounded by different aviaries like that: perhaps it has been superseded as an experience by walk-through aviaries, but I like it a lot. It reminded me of one of my favourite spots at Adelaide Zoo. The most surprisingly satisfying aviary,, though, was the ‘owl cloister’ which I’m guessing is a repurposed old carnivore exhibit or similar. It’s nothing complicated or particularly outré, but a slightly dark, almost hidden exhibit works well for owls, storks and falcons. I am choosing to overlook the presence of Waldrapp bin chickens, though.
Mammals are, as ever, a mix of good and bad, but with some ‘great’ thrown in. Hot on the heels of Krefeld’s jaguars come Cologne’s leopard: another wonderful, generously proportioned exhibit for the too-often short-changed spotted cats. The tiger exhibit is great, and the lion one is decent, though I’ve been noticing lately that there seems to be a real paucity of outstanding lion exhibits. I don’t think it’s just a Europe thing, either. They’re usually fine, but rarely truly noteworthy. Two highly active cheetahs turned their grassy knoll into a great little exhibit. Active animals so often make an enormous difference. Bears, meanwhile, are unfortunately a throwback at Cologne: small, concrete bear pits that the keepers have done their best with, but are still one of the worst features in the zoo.
Yet another German zoo comes to the party with a great ape exhibit, this time the bonobos, but once again I felt like I missed it at its best because the animals were inside. In principle I want animals to be given as many choices as they can be, and that means full access to indoor exhibits, but is enough being done to coax them outside? I’m not sure: it’s been a consistent disappointment to find apes sitting in utilitarian indoor spaces and leaving big, complex, natural outdoor exhibits empty. It’s like going to a football stadium on a non-match day. You see what it is, but have to imagine what it could be. A douc langur, meanwhile, was a pleasant surprise: is there only one?
Cologne is one of two zoos I’ve visited that have gone all in on massive, hyper-expensive modern elephant exhibits, following Zurich. As far as indoor exhibits go, they are both about as good as you can ask for, and better than the outdoor yards many zoos have. This is what I’m talking about when I say European zoos need to consider what it is to be an indoor exhibit: a concrete stall isn’t enough to rely upon for four months of the year, and neither Zurich or Cologne need to. On that basis alone they are the best two elephant exhibits I’ve seen all year, and watching the interaction between Cologne’s enormous herd is engrossing. The outdoor yards, though, are massive but pretty much empty, dusty paddocks.
And so ends the German leg of my journey. As forecast, I didn’t summon the energy or, to be truly honest, much desire to head out to Wuppertal, and Cologne, as a true heavy hitter both in Germany and across Europe, was a pretty good endnote to my time in the zoo world’s pre-eminent country.