Which Alligator is the Wild One?

And I don’t mean which one likes to party more; I’m saying, which of these two alligators is an alligator that is not in captivity? You can’t tell by proximity to the camera, now, can you? No, you can’t. That’s because this March I visited Florida, whose state motto is: “So Many Things To Devour You!”

Mind you, I’m happy that there are wild alligators out there, thriving as best they can in spite of the invasion of exotic species like pythons, which prey on the alligators’ young. (The python invasion was caused by irresponsible people releasing their pets when they tired of them.) The part that disturbs me is seeing them in tiny little ditches right off the side of the highway. This seems to me like poor city planning—don’t you think? I mean, you get a flat tire, you go out to change it, you get eaten. I bet AAA won’t even provide roadside assistance in cases like that.

To be fair, I did not get eaten by an alligator while in Florida, nor did any of the alligators I saw seem particular interested in eating anyone (of course, they probably don’t, right up until they do). One did seem pretty interested in a moorhen, however, and the moorhen seemed more than a little worried about the attention:

[is it me, or does the alligator look like it’s smiling?]

But I am still very happy that I only visited Florida and that I live in an area where the only alligators I’ll see are behind very secure fencing (which reminds me: the one in the lower photo is the one at the zoo).

After all, they’re adaptable, these crocodilians. One of these days, one of them might learn how to disguise itself as a AAA service person.

[“Please wait; someone will be with you shortly…”]

Strange Allure: Pandas

Don’t get upset—I like them, too (although not as much as the people who ooh and aah around them for what seems like hours at a time, who come to the zoo apparently wanting to see nothing else, nothing more, than these bears).

I think the only reason that I don’t spend more time at the panda exhibit myself is because, if any panda is in evidence, there are almost always a ton of people around it, regardless of the time of day. So I usually take a quick look at (and maybe a picture or two of) the bears and then move on, both to avoid the crowds and to allow those people who are only visiting the city the chance to enjoy the best views without being blocked by me.

And yet I am somewhat baffled by our fascination with pandas. What makes them so great? Is it their striking coloring, at once clownish and dapper? Their rarity even in zoos? It can’t be their antics, since they tend to spend most of their time engaged in one of two activities: sleeping (or lying around in a state suggestive, to me, of either boredom or dejection) or eating.

[exhaustion]

[dejection]

[petulance]

I don’t know what lures other people in, but recently I was finally able to pinpoint what it is that really pleases me about them: the utter concentration and absolute gusto with which they eat. Eating is an activity I’m very fond of myself (I do pity those people who eat just because they have to, without getting any pleasure from it), and it’s a delight to observe an animal that really knows how to enjoy him/herself while chowing down on a branch of bamboo or a frozen treat (I never know what they are—maybe vegetable popsicles or something?).

[look at the happy anticipation of that bite!]

[and what is this? frozen bamboo slushee?]

[losing oneself in the moment]

[finally, time to floss]

The focus! The determination! The gustatory satisfaction! Yes; any good gourmand, human or animal, is a friend of mine.

Sure They’re Pretty, but So’s Deadly Nightshade: The Dark Side of Black-Crowned Night Herons

I was surprised and delighted to discover that wild black-crowned night herons nest in the trees surrounding the bird exhibits at the zoo. I was also impressed to discover how unafraid they seem to be; unlike the ones I’ve seen in the wild, which have always been shy and retiring birds, these guys are fearless and raucous, flying low above visitors’ heads, flapping and crashing through the trees, and producing a cacophony of honks and squeals and yowls and groans that can be really alarming.

[this is the way their throats look
when they're making their strange noises]

As it turns out, they’re also quite aggressive and something of a nuisance.

A few times now I’ve seen them fighting with one another over food:




And, speaking of food, one day I was surprised to see night herons flapping down to gather around a pile of little dead fish. Being a trained marine biologist, I cleverly deduced that these fish had not appeared naturally on the grass beneath an oak tree.


So I asked two volunteers who were recording kori-bustard behavior (more on that another day) if it was zoo policy to feed these wild birds. They explained to me that the night herons have a tendency to steal the food of legitimate zoo animals; every now and then this kleptoparasitism gets so bad that the zookeepers put out some food as a distraction for the herons in the hopes that they’ll leave the captive birds’ food alone. Apparently it doesn’t work all that well; the herons scarf up their offering and then go back to stealing from the storks (and others).

[a night heron taking food from a stork's food box]

It seems as if even the young juveniles harbor dark secrets: I was told that some young appear to push others out of their high nests—or at least, zookeepers and volunteers have seen the young shrieking and shoving and have found fallen, dead fledglings on the ground from time to time. (Mind you, this is to some degree a tried-and-true technique for a lot of bird species—so even if it’s happening, it’s a species thing, not a sign of deliberately fratricidal birds.)


One of the volunteers, who also works near the cheetah exhibit, told me that one year the zoo tried to prevent the herons from nesting, as they usually do, around the bird house. In response, the herons moved over to the cheetah area, where they made a huge noise and mess and generally fouled (fowled?) things up. So now the zoo’s given up, it seems, and just gives them some food and hopes for the best.

[they do look kind of malevolent when they're eating, don't they?]

It works out well for me: they’re a lot of fun to watch and photograph. And they’re not eating my food.

Flaming Friday: Preening

It’s always fun to watch birds preen, partly because they get into such interesting and/or ridiculous positions in order to do it. Flamingos are especially fun to watch because they are to some degree intrinsically ridiculous—but also because their feathers are so many different, lovely shades of pink, and preening tends to reveal all of those shades.

[one of the first rules of preening is that you should do it even when those around you are fighting. (The first rule of preening is that you don't talk about preening.)]


[another rule of preening is that you can never start too young.]

To preen a little myself, my photo of flamingos billing at each other did get chosen as one of the Zoo shots for the Washington, DC “Schmap”—although, since it’s in there with about eight billion other (generally very good) images, it’s perhaps not the most prominently displayed picture ever. But I’m not complaining: today the Schmap, tomorrow…!

Pretty Good Cat and a Caption Waiting to Happen

Even I was quite taken by this fishing cat, all curled up on its sleeping platform. It’s one of those zoo animals that are fairly difficult to spot on a day-to-day basis, too, so there’s the extra feeling of accomplishment in spotting it, as well. Not that it was so difficult to see up there, but still. I’ve not yet seen it actually fishing, but I haven’t paid much attention to the information on it: it may be a nocturnal or crepuscular predator.

I also had to post this picture of Kori Bustards; the image really struck me.

[“I don’t know, Mabel—I don’t think that can be her real feather color.”]

—They seemed to be saying. But I’m open to other caption suggestions for this shot.