Today I held hands with a leopard.

I am honestly so perfectly happy in this moment. I hope that years and years down the road, I can draw back on these feelings, and that they will sustain me through any rough trials that life brings. I pray I never forget the bursting joy in my heart that signifies how decidedly I have found my niche.

The past two days, I have been ill, and I was very worried that I would feel  badly again today when I awoke. However, as my alarm sounded, I nearly lept out of the bed. My throat was still sore, but I had lost the grogginess of the previous days. Today was going to be so exciting.

Flash forward a couple of hours. I'm walking back from the goat pen, about to go home for the day, and I'm alone on the concrete path. All around me are trees and ferns, and a little creek streams quietly on my right. I am so thankful for the shade, because I've just spent the last two and a half hours in the petting pen. The open pen was bathed in radiation that burned my skin, made me squint my eyes in such a way that gave me a headache, and parched me to the extent of nausea. Maybe I was a little giddy from the sun, but maybe I was giddy from the previous part of the day, too. Anyway, as I traveled through that shaded walk, listening to children's laughter and the call of ducks, seeing cardinals flit through patches of leaf-filtered light, I could not stop smiling. How did I ever get so lucky as to work with animals every day? And today, wow! I was exposed to the most amazing and novel of experiences. That experience, my friends, was a leopard knock down.

Now the term knock-down is used to mean anesthetizing a large, dangerous animal. Considering we must first give them a sedative by way of a blow dart, and they must lie down before we can move them and administer oxygen, 'knock-down' is a pretty good term. So, here's why we had to anesthetize the leopard. Vance is a lovely fellow at the ripe old cat age of 20. In fact, his birthday was just 3 months after mine...pretty crazy. His dewclaws were getting pretty long, and had started to push into the pads of his feet. If we weren't to cut them, they could puncture his pads and cause lameness and pain. Well, we certainly don't want that, so we had to work on his claws.

The procedure was to take place inside of his indoor house, where it is air conditioned. Animals lose thermoregulation when they are under anesthesia, and if we had done it outside, he would have become very overheated. Not to mention, the public were already out and about in the zoo. So, we had to load up the whole vet wing essentially and take it with us. We had a big scale, teeth cleaning instruments, anesthesia machine, oxgyen tank, tables (one for the kitty, one for us), all our syringes, medicines, grooming supplies, iv set up, fluids, etc, etc etc. Lots of stuff had to come with us! You never know what is gonna happen under anesthesia, and we had to be prepared for anything. The vet and curator went in his house to administer the blowdart of sedative, and within several minutes we were ready to set up, as he was lying down asleep. All of that big list of things got transported once again, from the van into the cat house. My job was to keep anesthesia records of drugs used, his response to them, and any complications that may arise. I was also there to hand supplies to the doctor and technician as they needed them. Well as we got Vance up on the table and started working on him, he needed to be hooked up to the oxygen, get an IV line in, be checked over for vital signs, and things of that nature. There were many people in the tiny hall--the tech, vet, curator, me, and four others who work with the cats. I was all business as I stood behind the supply table, grabbing needles, blood collection tubes, brushes, fluids, gauze, trying to focus on the task so much that I forgot the experience. One girl was at the feet with a wire saw, trimming the toenails, another was at the back, grooming him, the vet was at the tail, examining, and the tech was at the face, monitoring the oxygen. I could hardly even see what was going on, before they said we were finished. What? Didn't we just get here? Time flies like that when you are working hard at a task and a little on edge. Afterall, Vance is an old cat, and being under is a stressful experience. We wanted to get him finished up as soon as we could.

 But right after they said it was done, they allowed us each a moment with him. This is the part where I was in awe. I walked around the instrument table to his face. His huge and lovely speckled face. I saw his glassy, lubed eyes and ran my thumb across each lid. The fur inside his ears was soft, and I was reminded humorously of the life-sized stuffed leopard I've kept on my bed for about ten years. This living, breathing, gorgeous piece of creation that could kill me in a heartbeat was right before me, and I gingerly ran my hand down his arm. I reached for the paw that was the size of my own hand. The claws were now nicely short, and the pads were rough, contrasting the soft fur in between each. I explored the crevaces of the feet that carry him with such grace, and have for 20 years. I felt his belly, his breath beneath his ribs, and I couldn't believe what an incredible experience it was. I know not how many people have had such an experience in their lifetime, but I must say, today was one that I will never forget.

Vancey Pants

Up close and personal.

Not much crazy stuff happened today, and I'm feeling pretty sick with sore throat today, so this is intended to be brief. Now will it? The chances of that are very slim. I could simply say, 'I've gotten to have some up close and personal experiences with several interesting animals lately' and end it there, but what kind of story would that be? One worth reading? As is so common with me, I've already taken up about five sentences to just explain how I want this entry to be brief and how it won't be...case in point.

Things were really fascinating the other day as we went to catch our sick helmeted guinea, but I forgot to mention it in my post about the experience. The guinea yard shares a fence with the back of the African yard, and as we were in there catching guineas, all of the hoofstock got very interested in what was going on. In fact, at one point there were two zebras, about six greater kudu, three impala, and an ostrich (though not hoofstock!) all up against the fence, curiously observing us. They were within five feet of me, and despite the fence between us, it was an awesome experience. Awesome-as in I was definitely experiencing some awe.

The interaction with the plains animals of the African yard was pretty great, but could not compare to my experience this morning. We have two Panthera leo's here at the zoo- one male, one female. They are both old kitties, 19 and 22 respectively. It had been noticed by one of the keepers that Darla, the female, was stumbling some as she walked, so the veterinarian and I went to check on her. At this point, early in the morning, both lions were still inside from last night. Once we entered the cat building, we turned right to a concreted hallway, about five feet in width. On the right of the hallway was the cinderblock wall, and on the left were two metal stalls, where two very snarly lions were. Now, naturally, most of the animals at the zoo have a distaste for the veterinary staff (a bit sad for me to acknowledge as I have such a love for them, but nonetheless true). However, I had not yet seen the distaste displayed so strongly as I did this morning. We peered in on a pacing Darla, whose head was much larger up close, and she continually emitted low hisses as she bared her huge teeth. It was crazy to see her this alert, as everytime I've passed the exhibit in the zoo, they lions are just lounging in the grass, sleeping, as lions often do. Lions in the wild will sleep up to 20 hours a day. Anyway, Darla was just the beginning. From the next stall down the hall was coming the most bizarre noises unlike anything I'd ever heard before. It was almost as if a giant with lungs the size of a refridgerator were gargling listering in a very low frequency...mixed with a monster truck starting up. And that was Leo just saying, get out of my house you people who poke me with syringes. It was crazy. The doctor said, "I bet you can't walk down there without jumping," so I walked in front of his cage, feeling confident that I could certainly face him without response, but I was definitely wrong. At his first rumbling growl, my shoulders drew up in a quick flinch. Being that close to a lion was a crazy experience, and I have certainly grown in my respect of such powerful and beautiful creatures. Here are some pictures of these guys out on their yard.

Leo

Darla

Some pictures.

Not much new happened today, but I did take a few pictures of the hammerkop. I just enjoy him so much!! He was a little more bashful around me today, but that's okay.

The pintail duckling was released back with his buddies, and seemed to do all right with it, so we'll see how it goess. I was very sad to see the little guy leave.

Happy.

I can only chalk up the last two day's utter sense of happiness and joy to the fact that I am finally doing what job I've dreamed of doing my whole life, I am surrounded by amazing animals, and I'm surrounded by amazing people to share the experience with. Today was ridiculously busy. It's gotten late, and I've had a bit more caffiene than can be good for me. In fact, I'm so goofy right now, I'm just about to get up and jump around for nothing but the fact that my feet will carry me. It's a great feeling, to be so alive. Let me tell you a bit about my day, so you'll know why the sun shines so strongly before me.

First thing first. I found one of our parakeets lying in his food dish this morning. He's one that we'd been calling "Billy Idol" because of his spikey hair. He'd been sick for a long while with a fungus called macrorhabdus. Essentially,it keeps him from being able to get any nutrients from his food. He looked very bad, and it made me very upset. We got him out and force fed him, injected fluids, and gave him sugar water. Yet, he still seemed terribly lethargic. I moved him to a tiny cage with a heating lamp, but by early afternoon, Billy had died. It was determined that he must have had a very advanced case of the fungus, that though it was agressively treated by us, could not be fixed.

The little pintail duckling is seemingly better today. He has this issue going on where he wing grows awakwardly out to the side, sticking out, and it's called "angel wing." We had to tape it down so it will grow in the correct direction, but it gives him an endearing sort of look. Here's to hoping he improves...again, and stays that way.

This morning we also had to check out the guineafowl I mentioned in yesterday's post. Catching her was a real pain, considering they had already been let out into the extremely overgrown yard. And out of twenty birds, we needed a specific one. Thankfully, we had someone from the bird department come help, and after several attempts at rounding them up into a corner or the barn, we got them pinned in a corner and this lady was really excellent at just digging in the group and getting the bird we needed. Some were even climbing up the fence to get away from us by the time we got the one we needed. We took the sick girl, as well as another healthy one for comparison's sake, and headed back to the vet wing. The doctor examined her, we took several xrays, drew blood, did a skin scrape on a slide, and took a fecal sample. Despite figuring out the bird had mild arthritis, we found little on the pictures, and the poop sample and blood testing showed little else. The sick bird weighed only half as much as the healthy bird, and her face was still pale, legs swollen. I hope the doctor will be able to make a diagnosis as more research is conducted.

After the guineas were finished, we had to do a west nile virus injection on the hamerkop, as well as get his weight. I love that little guy, and I was very nervous about having to catch him today. I was afraid that all the patience I'd put in would be erased. We got to the quarantine building, and I reluctantly shut him in only his outside stall, where he loves to stay the most. We needed him in a smaller area so that he could be netted. Thankfully, the tech was able to catch him fairly easily. We needed to move him from the net to a pillow case so that we could weigh him, but as I held open the pillow case, and his head poked out of the net, he latched his skinny beak onto my index finger. Indignant little sucker. It didn't hurt, and I laughed as I got him wrapped in the fabric. His weight was a good one, and after he got his shot, we released him. He was pretty frazzled after the encounter, but I still needed to give him food and clean his stall. I opened the doors and he came right inside. The outside area had become an unsafe area for him, and it made me sad. As I put on my big white quarantine suit, he gave a little knowing squawk, as if suddenly I had transformed from the bad guy, back to the lady who brings the food. Well, as I got inside his stall to clean, he sat on his perch right beside me, and everywhere I moved in the stall, he moved with me, and stayed close. It was as if he were testing me--would I catch him again? Would I wrap him up? Thankfully, he found that I was not going to, and he seemed to still trust me. In fact, though a little shaky, he was very happy when I gave him his new food bowl, and gobbled up a meatball. As I cleaned outside, he stayed inside, afraid of that world. I hope he grows confident about the outside perches again. I am happy he does not fear me, though. I will draw him back into the sunlight again.

Remember the goat I took a picture of yesterday, Baby Ruth? She had a bald patch of hair on side. We thought it could be fungal, but upon checking it out, it seemed like a place she had merely been rubbing at because of her pain. She has really bad arthritis, and we're going to be upping her pain meds soon. She's lived a very long life, at seventeen, and is an old old lady now. The plan is just to keep her comfortable as life takes its course.

Another thing we had to check out today was a bobcat named "Dokie." He was reported to be lying on his back, barely breathing, so the cat keeper roused him and brought the cats inside. When we got to the cat house and checked him out, he was bright and alert again. He paced his stall, beautiful big green eyes alight, and cute little bobbed tail swaying. They are very lovely cats, and it seems he only had heat exhaustion. Considering it got up to about 100 degrees today, that made total sense.

I am so happy right now! Life is everything I want it to be!

I met the world's bravest person today.

Two days ago, I got to experience the joy of de-worming twenty helmeted guineafowl. They are really pretty birds with black and white spotted bodies and blue heads with red wattles and a little horn on their head. Me and another technician entered a small barn where the guineas are housed for the night. Immediately, I was overcome by the stifling heat as I crouched to avoid hitting my head on the low ceiling. My long sleeves started sticking to me, and my back was cramping when I got briefed on the objective...run the birds to the other side of the barn and behind a door where we can scoop two up at a time and take them outside to be de-wormed. My supervisor was waiting outside with the medications, and we were to knock on the door when we were ready with birds. We had put on the long sleeves as an extra precaution, because these birds have been known to scratch and resist capture. Humorously enough, we began to make a joke from the popular youtube sensation, and started singing, "We climbin' in yo windows, snatchin' the guineas up, tryin' to worm 'em, so y'all need to hide your legs, hide your beaks..." It was great fun, and at first it went pretty well. You always catch the dumb ones first. The way we held the birds was very funny. We held them by their rough legs, one finger betwen the ankles, and one bird to each hand. Their little heads lifted at an arch, looking around like, 'What the heck?' With me and the tech each possessing two birds, we went out for the medicines. The process was to swing the bird up into the crook of your arm and wrap around it to hold the wings down, while the other lady opened the beak and gave the meds. Once they were ready to be released, we did what I can only call the guinea-swing. You take the guinea, still holding it by the feet, and give it a little under-handed toss away from you. In the time while the bird starts to propel through the air, you hold your breath...will he flap in time to break his fall? And they always did. After landing, they trotted off into their overgrown yard with quick waddling steps. As we got down to the last few, it began to get a little harder as they were the clever ones who had already escaped our last four capturings. In the end, the tech netted the final two in one swoop and we got the job done. During the de-worming process, we found one bird with highly swollen legs, very pale wattles, and flaky dry skin. We treated him for mites by dusting, but we are bringing him in to the vet wing tomorrow to see if it may be something more going on. I will have an update on him soon.

The little duckling started getting bad again over the last two days. I took him outside to graze for a bit three days ago and the little chap, who we thought would quietly walk around me in the grass, started frantically running away from me into the parking lot. So, we decided that was not a good idea, and put him back in for the night. The next day, his walking had become labored, and with each step he took, his little chest would sink to the floor. It was utterly depressing, considering how far we had come. When he had his running episode, we considered relasing him the next day. We're sure he misses his other little duckling friends. He's even been eating a lot less lately. By the doctor's request, I moved him to a bigger stall, out of the ICU, where he has a little pond, sunshine, and much room to walk around. He does seem happier, especially to have the pond, and the walking had improved somewhat today. We've been feeding him lots of extra mealworms, which he loves, and we've dusted them in Calcium and vitamins so hopefully one of the several changes we've made will cause more improvement. It's hard to know exactly what is going on with him, and it's frustrating, because I've grown so fond of him. I've been calling him "cheeper" affectionately, and I love to hold his tiny body against my chest when I must move him, despite the fact that he flaps indignantly against me, ready to get away from this strange animal carrying him. Here are pictures of him--he has grown so much since the last picture several entries ago!!!

In other news, the most amazing thing happened today. I was doing my weekly duties at the petting pen, loving life as I sat among the goats, lightly scratching their heads and letting them chew my keys (Hope was enjoying it very much!)

I was also watching our old seventeen year old lady, Baby Ruth, who is just sweet as peaches, and who posed so lovely for my photos.

Well, during this peaceful time among the goats and the hilarious children who ask the funniest questions and to whom I love talking about animals, a young and vivacious girl walked in. She was very pretty, big green eyes, long dark hair and the world's biggest, brightest smile. She asked me if I always work in the goat pen, and I told her about how I actually work with the vet staff. She told me how she's been volunteering at another zoo, and has always wanted to work with animals. I found out she is in high school, and just asked her a variety of questions about her dreams. These sort of discussions are my favorite. She was happy to oblige, was so mature in her answers, and so happy in her goals, that I never would have guessed what was coming. As she talked of Africa, where she would love to work on conservation, she mentioned how she would be unable to, because of her sickness (cancer). She has decided to stay in the States and work in a zoo, and though she may only have a little while to live, she is desperate to get through these next fews years so that she may fulfill her lifelong goal. She was so hopeful, so full of life. How could something that was full of death be inside her, taking over? It broke my heart and yet lifted it at the same time. She was so determined and so happy. The whole story brought tears to my eyes, but also made me so thankful for my life, my opportunities, and I pray that that little girl will achieve her dreams, because she deserves it, and the animals of the world deserve a beautiful person like her to work with them. It's amazing what comes out of seemingly bland situations (goat pen) if only you open your mouth and connect with those around you.

I've decided that I just love our new hammerkop in quarantine. It was a struggle at first between us two. I was warned that they can become so stressed out they fly into walls and can break their own necks. I wanted desperately to make a connection to this bird, but how in the world would I be able to with him so flighty? When I came into the quarantine building and got suited up in the terrible sweat-sauna plastic full-body suits, boots, and gloves we wear, I would try my hardest to make next to no noise. His stall has an indoor part, with a little pond and an outside part, with perches. As I cleaned inside, I had to do so from a distance, spraying the hose through the grates, and only entering to exchange the food bowl or open the drain. When I did enter, I had to do so very stealthly, so as not to shake the bars and distress him. He was so keen on my movement, even from outside. Every step I took elicited a loud squawk-squawk-squawk from his long, thin beak. I was stressed out during the whole procedure, thinking he would freak out on me and go flying to his death. The first two days, he didn't eat anything we gave him. After those two days, he started to warm up, though. By day three, he was eating most all of his fish, and his favorite, the raw meatballs that I placed on his ledge. Still, he would not enter the building while I was there. However, yesterday, as I had finished cleaning, and was gladly stripping the quarantine gear, I saw his head poke round the corner. He was curious about me and what I had done in his house. He walked in, and then back out again. I smiled a little and backed away to a non-threatening distance. When he peeked around this time, he found that it was okay to enter, and came inside to take a drink of water and splash his face in his pond. He stood there for a minute or two, and as I started to leave, he went back outside. Some progress was made. Today was great, though! As I got up to his outer stall, I noticed he had pooped in there. Well, we'd been waiting on this, for quarantined animals need fecal samples read that say they are clear of parasites before they can be released to exhibit. But how was I to get the sample without him stressing? I paced my movement, made every step deliberate, and tried to not take my eyes from him, but also not look him threateningly in the eye. Animals know when you look at them threateningly, and some animals especially hate it if you give them eye contact. That being said, some of the more developed species can read eye contact and gauge wether it is a threatening gaze or that of mere interest. I didn't want to risk the eye contact gamble, so I just peered at him every few seconds and moved doors at a snails pace. He squawked as I entered to get the poop, but did not flap ferociously as he had in the past. I felt  hopeful for today's cleaning. So, as I was inside the building, I took away his food dish from the previous day, cleaning out the sickening remains of raw meat and fish parts, nearly puking in the process. And, by golly, the little fella came right inside and hopped in the food dish holder (a wooden box on a perch) and started indignantly pecking at the empty box, as if to say, "Lady, where is my food? Aren't you the one who brings the new food?" I giggled to myself, and calmly shooed him back outside. I cleaned in the stall and after stepping out, he stepped inside. He did his same face-splashing routine, and as I left the building this time, he stayed inside. Finally, I would be able to clean the outside stall by going into it! He had figured out that he can spend time inside while I am outside. So I get outside, sweating to the nines in the terrible heat of that suit, and sneak into his cage, hose ready. I start cleaning, and happily, because it was getting pretty gross in there. During the spraying process, he sneaks outside onto his tree limb perching. And he cocks his little hammer head and just looks at me curiously. He gave one squawk and then just proceeded to sit. Thinking I was not posing much threat, I continued to clean. He continued to sit in the branch. And thus began our friendship. He was fine with me being in there, he had pointedly called for his food when I had taken the old away, and he was not going to break his neck on a wall! How much patience pays off! I am so tickled that he has warmed up to me, and I feel such a great sense of accomplishment. I also relate to this hammerkop, as I take much time to warm up to people, but once I've decided I love you, I'll love you forever. It was a happy day.

Pictures of the hammerkop to follow soon!

What in the world?

It is mildly ironic that I am listening to the song "White blank page" as I sit here and find it hard to write. When in my life will I quit being afraid? I jump around so much just trying to avoid hitting anyone's toes. Toes inevitably get stepped on, and I take the falls so hard on my own feet...But jumping gets so exhausting, and I can't assume that tonight's storytelling will be much different.

It gets this way when I'm tired. The figures of speech and cryptic language start flowing. I've been a little off colour these days. Heck, I put a poem on here...on my blog about veterinary procedures...I'm listening to slow folk music and keep taking swigs from the off-brand, sour orange juice bottle beside me. I've had about half of it now, and the cicada songs are doing little for mine ears...
so let's get back to the purpose. Today was a whirlwind of procedures.

This morning we had to treat some coatis for allergies. If you don't know, coatis are sometimes known as hog-nosed coons, and they are racoon relatives.  They are very docile and adorable.

Ours have seasonal allergies, and they become very itchy. During this time, they scratch alot and remove some of the hair from their tails and behinds. This morning, we had to give two of the ladies a steroid shot for their allergies. This will reduce inflamation and help them feel less itchy. Maybe after this they will quit having bare butts, and starting have coatis butts. But pun aside, they were quite adorable, and kept coming up to rub on the cage side as I observed the injections. They are very playful and avid climbers in their exhibit. It was great fun watching them.

Another thing we did this morning was castrate a baby deer. I am told that as deer grow and become the flighty creatures we know them as, they become very hard to perform procedures on. During the time frame it takes to anesthetize one, and the stress it puts them under, they can end up hurting themselves. This is obviously not what we desire from our animals, so the neutering was performed very early. During this same time frame, we injected microchips. A microchip is the size of a grain of rice and is easily injected between the shoulder blades. It has a corresponding number which is read by a scanner. Because of this microchip, we can keep up with exactly which deer is which, and which deer is our zoo's. The little darlings were just bawling as they were restrained for the chipping, and my heart bled for them. I swear there is nothing cuter than a baby animal. I can't think of one single thing more wonderful to me. Chocolate and the forest are close seconds. But number one is baby animals, hands down.

In other news, we have a new guy in quarantine. Did I mention this already? I can't remember if I did. Anyway, he is a hamerkop. They are a pretty brown bird with a head shaped like a hammer! I will try and get a picture tomorrow. He's not been very interested in me so far, preferring to stay outside as I clean his stall, unlike Tiffany the curassow who would curiously peck me the whole time. But I am eager to get to know this new guy's personality. However, I will say, what he eats is not very pleasant! I get to stick him pieces of ground meat through his stall for him to get, and among the ground meat is meal worms and dead fish...I have gagged every morning when I remove the previous day's scraps. I hope to take a picture of this feast as well...

The baby pintail is continuing to improve every day, though I can hardly call him baby anymore! He has grown so very much over these few weeks of caring for him, and that is another thing I hope to have pictures of soon! I love to watch him take his baths in the sink. He's still a tiny, tiny bit wobbly when walking, but is almost back to normal, and is very active and fiesty! I just love a success story. I hope it continues in this way.

A crazy and frustrating event happened today. It was so bizarre, but made for a great story afterward. I walk back from the quarantine building and see the "procedure in progress" sign on the vet wing door. Curious about what was going on, but not wanting to disturb if it was serious, I slipped quickly into the room. I asked my supervisor what was going on, because I didn't see an animal anywhere in the room. Well, as it would turn out, they had been holding a parakeet to check on it...and it flew away. Well, okay, this certainly happens, but you get a net and you catch the little guy. However, the problem was that we could NOT find the bird anywhere. Somehow, the little guy had gotten completely lost in the vet wing. Me, my supervisor, and a bird keeper began to look everywhere. we moved everything away from walls, looked under stuff, stood on shelves, opened every cabinet door, even going as far as to remove all of the trash from our trash can (which mind you, included deer testicles and many fecal samples), and still there was no bird...Well, people strated to trickle in as fate would have it. At one point, I think we had eight people in the vet wing looking everywhere for a yellow flighted creature the size of a human hand. Doors had been closed off so that he would be trapped in the area that they were certain he was in...but after an hour of all of us searching, we couldn't find him. So the lights were turned off, and we began to wait, hoping he would come out of his hiding in the dark. We went back into the office to continue our other tasks, baffled and a little frazzled...how had we actually lost a parakeet? It seeemed so impossible. My supervisor walked over to the door, exhasperated, and looked wistfully behind a huge filing cabinet in our office. Of course, there the little bird was. He somehow had flown into the office in the brief moment that another employee had opened the door, and was hiding during the whole search for him. How tired we were after this whole endeavour! But the bird actually turned out to be in pretty good condition, and we're keeping him for a few days, especially after the stress he went through today as we turned the vet wing upside down looking for him...but he should be better soon. I am just chuckling remembering the scenario. It's one of those where you just keep shaking your head and wondering, 'What in the world?'

Conjecture.

If I took words and I molded them
simply for beauty's sake
Would anyone call it a poem,
or am I only a fake?

A fake in a world I know not of,
I know so little at all
Am I more than the things that I've thought of,
more than my dreams beck and call?

I know so little of skills, you see
My mind a prison of play
One can build cities and castles and sunlight
but if trapped, their grandeur will stay

Inside of the place where you build them
Never letting anyone inside
And what then is a playground
if all are barred from the slide?

My hands are clumsy and faulty
all that I touch turns to dust
So I put a dome on my beautiful playground
for fear that in rain it will rust

But tools unused are just broken
Entropy will take them, too
And all my thoughts left unspoken
will leave me with grey where I once knew of hue.

Loss.

I won't lie and say there hasn't been much sadness lately. Not to be trite, but as they say "When it rains, it pours." This week has been one of many endings. A few happy stories have been the silver lining that have kept this girl woven together. So, here are some of the stories.

Todd Fox
A while back I wrote an entry about grooming our old man fox, Todd. And when I say old, I mean old--15 years, which is pretty ridiculous for a canine, and considering he would only live half that in the wild, it is a feat. For the past two years, he's gotten to a very geriatric stage, and the senesence which was making him fade, as it does to us all, had been often discussed--how long would he have? Well a few days ago he was seen limping in his enclosure, flies swarming around a particular foot. We got together a plethora of supplies and went to his home. Think about a wiley fox. Think about that burnt colored fur, the quick jumps. Todd had gotten much past this foxy stage. Though markedly still a fox in shape, his fur had taken on a whitened appearance, especially around the muzzle. He appeared to have a white beard. His movements were slow and labored, arthritis taking its toll. The morning of the procedure, he was easily caught and restrained. He got set up on an IV line, so he could get some fluids in him, and one technician brushed him as the other examined his foot. The skin between his toes was raw and red, and maggots were present. The wound was flushed many times, and an antibiotic injection was administered. We felt pretty good about the procedure overall, and everything else on him looked to be good, so we left. Throughout the day, we got reports that Todd was doing well. However, the next morning, it was reported that Todd was not walking right. He seemed to be in a great deal of pain, and after an hour or so of such a display, he laid down in his enclosure, obviously in a labored physical state. People visiting the zoo had become quite concerned, and we were as well, so it was time to get him off exhibit and into the vet wing. He was caught and given a sedative, and then crated back to the clinic. Upon examination in the clinic we saw a huge congregation of maggots all throughout his fur and when the vet spread his hind legs, the whole abdomen between was raw and wet. What had happened was urine scalding. He had gotten to  a state where he could not properly urinate while standing and then move away from the urine, and thus it had begun to damage the tissue between his legs. At thhis point we knew it was time. Todd had lived a very long life, and it seems to have gotten to a point where he could no longer take care of himself. I'm sure it is always a hard decision to euthanize an animal. Certainly in domesticated animals, life can be prolonged even when the animal cannot take care of itself, because owner contact allows for such care. Who's to say if this prolonging is right or wrong? What I shall comment on, though, is that in the case of captive wild animals, when they can no longer take care of their own body, they have nothing. Treatment of an animal you cannot touch regularly is very difficult. It takes incredible skill and patience to make a diagnosis from afar and to treat something from afar as well. In this case, prolonging Todd's life would only have lead to his suffering. All his keepers got to say goodbye to him, and he was given drugs to make him very calm. By the time he received the injection to take him away, his eyes were droopy and he had the sly grin of a true fox on his face. And now he can enjoy, as someone put it, "the great chicken coop in the sky."

Little Cheeks
Here at the zoo, we had the oldest living King Vulture in existence. At age 45, Little Cheeks was a sight to behold. King Vultures have a very endearing curious look about them.

She went quickly, within an hour, she was observed to be lying down low, and was found dead shortly after. No true ailment, other than old age, which truly in its own way is a form of disease, took her. In assisting the necropsy, the heart and kisneys were swollen and covered in white speckles, as if someone had taken powdered sugar and sprinkled it over the organs. Time will cause such damage. Performing the necropsy didn't lead to any surprise ailments, but it was a good learning experience for many people who got to observe it and thus learn about anatomy and the damage getting old causes internally.

Other losses
Because I was not involved in these other cases at length, it will suffice for me to mention the other losses we had this week. A beautiful, old male Vulturine Guinea died, and in his intestine, many parasitic worms were found. And this morning, an old female Black and White Colobus Monkey passed away. Though in my eyes the loss of any living creature is a sad event, these larger and older animals that have really marked personalities, those that have really made an impression on many people were very hard to say goodbye to.

Birds of a feather
We had two interesting cases come in this week from the aviary. One was a budgerigar who had gotten in a fight with another parakeet, and when she was brought in to the vet wing, the crate was splattered throughout with blood. One of the technicians immediately named it "Freddy Kreuger keet," though we did later find out she was a girl. Thankfully, the large amount of blood was from a relatively small toe injury, which we got cleaned up in a jiffy, and Fredina is doing quite well among the other ICU parakeets. The other bird we had come in this week was a grey cockatiel who was squawking up a storm when I walked in to the procedure. I walked up and was horrified to see that the bird had only one eye! However, as it turned out, the little guy truly did have both eyes. The one eye was just terribly sunken in- collapsed, and it was all due to a piece of spinach stuck beneath the globe, which the vet had pulled out just prior. Eye drops, pain meds, and TLC were prescibed, and thus far, though fiesty, the new guy is doing well.

The pinned pintail- another update
Well, thankfully I can end this entry on a happy note. The little pintail who got his leg pinned, and then had the pins removed, was doing really well after the removal of the bone pins. However, two days later, he was observed by a keeper to be swimming only in a circle and not acting right. He was brought into the vet wing, where we observed severe ataxia. Ataxia is basically a medical word for not walking correctly. The poor little guy would try to take a step with his big clown feet and would then proceed to fall on his tiny bill. A few times he even flipped over onto his back. He kept trying and trying to take steps, but would continually fall. It was a pitiful sight. Upon deciding that his problem was likely bacterial, we started treating him on antibiotics and giving him lots of love. In the past two days, his condiion has drastically improved. On the first day, he had to be force fed and have fluids injected frequently into the subcutaneous layer inside his thigh. On day two, he was eating well on his own, but remained lying down, still having a hard time walking. On day three, he was standing on his own frequently, cheeping at me often (so I have begun to affectionately call him "Cheeper", due to his darling baby duck whistle that sounds like 'cheep, cheep, cheep'), snapping at my hand every time it enters the cage, and thoroughly enjoying bathtime. We decided that as a diving duck, he really was probably getting quite depressed sitting in the ICU cage all day. Since he was doing so well on that third day, we put a little water in the big sink and let him play in it. It was honestly the most precious site I have seen in a long time. He would put his bill in the water's flow and shake his head rapidly from side to side, relishing in the water. He eagerly stuck his face under for food we dropped in and sucked it up, mouth slapping like a super-speed motor to take in the grain. He eagerly stuck his head under the water repeatedly at an attempt to dive (which he was unable to do because the water was shallow). He swam happily and preened himself. Often, he would shake his little butt feathers rapidly and he even started calling at one point. This time, he call wasn't just a cheep. It was a cheep-quack, which I truly cannot describe. It was like when a teenage boy's voice is changing and will abruptly crack in a sentence. The look of shock on said boy's face at the sound that escaped him is exactly what that duckling did. And then he proceeded to flick his face in the water's flow again.

A frenzy of activities.

Wow, there is so much to catch up on. I terribly wish I had the gusto to write every single day, but I've been very busy spending time with friends and having a blast whenever possible. After I have worked all day and enjoyed festivities, I find it very hard to sit down and recall my day in a manner poetic enough to please the general public. Now, for the sake of convenience, I will divide this entry into case sections. Each of the mentioned scenarios has had a great impact on me and has taught me alot.

Feeding Elephants:
What a fun day this was! We had headed up to the elephant building to do our third and final trunk wash on the elephants. They all performed brilliantly, and we had received our conical tubes full of elephant nose water. Just before we were about to leave the building, the veterinarian looks beside her and sees a box full of apples. She says to the keeper, "May I feed the elephants?" He allowed her to, and I watched enviously from behind as she gently handed apples into their prehensile noses. They eagerly lifted their trunks to their mouths and dropped the yummy fruit in. After she had given all the fruit she had, one of the elephants began to feel all up and down her legs, wrapping gently around her ankle at one point. It looked like great fun, and when they offered to let me feed one, I was ecstatic! I grabbed a few apple slices and held out my hand. The eager trunk immediately found my fingers and removed the red succulence from them. I was amazed at how soft their trunks are! And how strong, too! Most zoos in America, as well as this one, adhere to what is called protected contact. Protected contact is when keepers are never in direct contact with the elephants, and bars always separate them, save that one soft long reaching appendage known as the trunk. To touch an elephant, an animal who is colossal when up close, whose soulder is higher than your head and there is much more of her above that, and to make her happy by passing on fruit is indescribably amazing. I was giggling inside for hours after the awesome experience.

Serval Transfer:
Previously, we had two male servals here at the zoo. Servals are spotted, medium-sized cats with large triangular ears. We have been desiring a breeding partner for one of males, but don't have the room to house more than two of these cats at a time. So, one of the boys was being shipped to another zoo. Well, bright and early, we were up and at the cat house to sedate and crate our kitty. We had a whole host of supplies there for managing this task, the most decidedly important of which was the blowdart. Into this long tube we loaded a syringe, primed with air in one end, meds in the other, that would be blown at the serval, and upon contact in his skin, would discharge the sedative.He was extremely active and agressive when we were trying to get an angle on him. He had been moved to a tiny stall where we would have easier access to him, and the vet had taken out the pole syringe as a tool to manipulate him to one side so the blowdart could be sent his way. She stuck the wooden stick (the end opposite the needle) in the cage with him, and the angry fellow reached up and smacked the end of that stick right off! It was crazy how strong he was. After one unsuccessful dart, and a second successful one, plus 20 minutes waiting, he was somewhat calmed down, but not markedly sedated. So, we decided to give it a third go on the drugs. At this point, he was lying on a wooden perch in the stall that was about three feet off of the ground. The stall's total height probably reached 9 feet. When he was hit with the third dart, he lept straight up from the perch so high that he hit the ceiling of the stall. Well, after another time of waiting, he had calmed considerably, and was able to be moved into a crate. Now, a sedated wild animal is still a wild animal, and though he was a little relaxed, he was by no means unable to harm us still. So, to be moved he was snared around the neck by a snare pole, and walked into the waiting crate filled with hay. Once he was in the crate, an antagonist drug was given that woke him up slowly from the sedative. When he was getting ready to head to his new home, in a crate in the back of the van, he was sitting up and curiously looking around.

Pinned pintail duckling:
Remember the duckling who broke his leg a while ago? Well three days ago, it was time to remove the pins from his leg. Everything felt fine, the little guy seemed very bright and alert, and he did well under anesthesia. After we took the pins out, we took xrays, which looked good. The bone had begun to callous together and he was walking with only a slight limp. We put him back in the water with the other ducklings where he swam away happily. However, two days later, he was brought back to the vet wing. The tiny grey body could not be held on the tiny grey legs with webbed feet that splayed out in front of him like clown shoes. He was tottering over upon every step, and even went face first into the ground a few times. He flipped on his back and could not get back up. This seemed like more than a leg problem, but we took xrays to make sure. The xrays revealed nothing abnormal--the leg was healing, the spine was normal, even the brain (which we shot an xray of) was looking healthy. So, it was reasoned that the cause must be infection. We looked up the history of the birds who had previously been in the enclosure where Pintail was.   These birds had died of an infection, and while the area had been well cleaned, and no other ducklings had been seen with strange symptoms, it was possible that the pintail baby was just more susceptible to what little infection remained, because of the pin holes healing in his leg, and because of the stress of going under anesthesia. We immediately changed up his antibiotic, and started taking strong precautions to remain very sterile in his room. Everything that touches him goes immediately to wash after it is removed, and we change his bedding multiple times a day. He had to be force-fed and given injectable fluids for the first day. When we left that evening, he was still wobbly, but sitting up on his own. I was very worried when I came in this morning that he would have gotten worse, but thankfully, he had improved! He had eaten all of the food in his dish that I had left, and he was sitting up. Upon his standing, I saw that he was still having a really hard time walking. Every step he tries to take, he falls over, but he's such a trooper! He keeps trying and trying to get to his food, or to get away from me when I have to catch him when it's time for medicine! His spirit is very endearing. He's a determined little, drunken-looking duckling. He ate quite a bit of grain and mealworms today, little beak smacking at hyper speed as he swallowed them down. He's still wobbly, but hopefully tomorrow will show even more improvement.

Fawns
A few days ago we walked by the deer yard and saw one of our pregnant does. Her stomach was a huge bulge, coming out on both sides, and she was ready to pop with the life inside her. Within two days of this sighting, the world had gotten the gift of two new twin babies. One was a boy and one was a girl. They needed their tetanus shot, and they needed to be cleaned up after the birthing process if any umblical cord was still remaining or they had any caked blood, so we headed down to see them. I entered the barn with plastic gloves on my hands, a bottle of sticky red iodine in tow, and a cooler of syringes in the crook of my arm. When the keeper walked from across the barn, carrying in his arms, a minute tan body and long skinny legs splayed out, seemingly too long for the small form, with hooves that could fit in a shot glass, and eyes the size of quarters, I nearly dropped all the gear from cuteness-overload. What is it about baby things that is so precious?! I even find baby spiderlings to be precious, just because of their minute size! I believe it is the 'helper' in my that finds babies so enthralling. I've always had a soft spot for them that cannot help themselves, and a baby is the epidome of helpless. At the end of the day, I guess we all want to be needed, and to be needed by a life form that truly and absolutely needs you to survive if the ultimate satisfaction. Thankfully, the babies looked great! There were no medical problems whatsoever, and we didn't even have to clean them up; momma had done a great job of that. It was a very precious moment, and the miracle of life amazed me, as it always has, and as I am certain it always will.

There is so much more to tell! So many more stories will follow this weekend when I have time to write them out. Some of the tales are of loss, but some are of healing, and while both can teach us something, the healing are my favorite kind. Oh, the joy of newness of life.

Sunfish and storm clouds.

What an eventful day, sugarcoated by an awesome night. I'm so elated right now it's hard to put myself back in the somber mood of the afternoon, so I will start by describing my evening. Another intern here had developed a project. He wanted to add some sunfish to a large exhibit tank. Because this new tank had bass in it, and bass eat sunfish, he wanted to have the fish moved at night when the bass would be sleeping, giving the newly introduced guys time to get acclimated and find hiding places. Obviously, the zoo is not open at night, so going there was already going to be an adventure. However, just before we were planning to walk to the zoo (about a quarter mile wooded stretch), the skies darkened, opened up, and it started to pour while thunder rolled and lightning struck. Well, we still had to get the fish moved, so we donned what little rain gear we had and walked to the zoo. When we first got there, it was only sprinkling, and though I had to sit in a wet truck bed, leaving my rear on the not-so-dry side, the rest of me was doing all right. We got into the reptile house, where the sunfish, as well as their new tank were, and another fellow intern and I perused the reptile collection sans the general public while they caught and bucketed the 100 fish for transfer. While exploring, we started an animal guessing game--twenty questions essentially, but always with animal subjects. It was great fun, and we laughed alot. The fish got moved to their new tank, and what a commotion that caused! All other fish and turtles in the tank became very active, following the new guys around. We only saw two become a meal, but we shall see what the morrow will bring. After the fish were taken care of, we had to move a bucket of hay to a barn across the zoo. Thankfully, the night keepers had left us use of an old, red, finnicky truck named Cletus. Now Cletus doesn't always like to go, and will frequently shut off in the middle of driving. As we drove down a dirt road in the pouring rain, hitting potholes filled with water, bumping along as Cletus kept shutting of, we were having a great deal of fun. We stopped for all toads we came across, and at one point one intern even got out in the torrential rain to personally pick one up off the road. As she bent reaching for it, it hopped right up between her legs and flew off into the grass. Well, her purpose was accomplished and we carried on. Each time the truck would stall in the middle of the heavily green back acres of the zoo, which had begun to resemble a bit of a rainforest in the lightning's glow and rains darkening, we felt as if we were in Jurassic Park, about to meet up with an unlucky fate. We had to walk that quarter mile back home in the rain and dark, thankful that such storming probably kept the coyotes and mountain lions away from us. We sang "Raindrops keep falling on my head," and I spun around happily as I let my hair get soaked. The earth takes on a beautiful calm as night has fallen and rain is pouring. I had such a fun time tonight experiencing that with great people, and I will carry memories of this evening with me always.

My day at the clinic was jam-packed today, too. I love days when a million things are going on, because I am easily bored and enjoy a good amount of variety. I saw a necropsy on a pink-toed tarantula, which will probably evolve into nightmares for me tonight...we vaccinated a baby kudu with a blow dart. Basically, you have a long tube in which you place a double ended syringe. In one end goes the medicine for the animal, and in the other end is air to charge the dart. Someone blows into the long tube and the dart goes flying out into the animal. It is a bit shocking, but no more painful than a strong bug bite. We checked on the little pintail duckling who had his leg pinned the other day, and he seems to be doing great. He's putting weight on that foot again and happily swimming with his buddies. Another thing we did today was to check those quarantined fish I mentioned above for parasites. For such a test, we did what is called a gill clip. Some people will just euthanize fish willy nilly for the sake of such tests, but it is not a necessary measure, and we chose to do a test in which no life would be lost. A small sliver of gill flesh is taken from the fish, a wound that will heal easily on its own, and the gill is then looked at under a microscope. If parasites are present, they will be viewed under the microscope. The fish from today had smooth, clean gill muscles, and no parasites, which in turn allowed them to be okay for transfer. Several frogs, two birds, and a snake were taken care of today, but I fear I am too exhausted to expound upon the topic at this time.

A spot of information.

Good news! The pintail duckling was doing very well this morning, eating and limping around eagerly. After a doctor examination, we were able to put him back with his other small duckling friends. He peeped very eagerly and splashed his face in the water. I ducked behind a wall and peered around so he would think I wasn't there, and I watched him for a bit. He seemed very content, and so was I.

Another thing we did today was called elephant trunk washes. When elephants are tested for tuberculosis, it is done by squirting saline solution into their nostril. They then proceed to lift their trunk and blow the liquid back out into a bag. It is then transferred to a conical tube, which will be sent to a lab for testing. Today, as one of the keepers was holding the bag and preparing to receive the jet from one of the elephant's trunks, the bag was ruptured by the blow, and elephant trunk water went all over his face! Very unfortunate. I also found out that the reason our elephants are trained to blow into harmonicas is precisely for trunk wash practice. Because the test occurs only once a year, the elephants must keep in practice, and they let them do so in a noteworthy manner.

A few other minor checkups occured today. We have a bird to be x-rayed tomorrow and a penguin needed some medication today. Verde, the little parakeet that came the other day is doing very well. He's always in the food dish when I walk in, hopping around eagerly and chomping seeds in his little beak. He's gained some weight, and seems to be getting along well with the other keets.

I read a terribly sad statistic today. With no intervention, cheetahs will be completely extinct in just twenty years. These extremely interesting and specialized big cats are the most endangered in Africa. There were an estimated 100,000 in the wild in 1900, and by the year 2000, there were only 12,500. They have extremely low genetic diversity due to such a population bottleneck, and this leads to abnormalities among them. Often, male cheetahs are subfertile, meaning they have so low a sperm count that they cannot fertilize a female. As the world's fastest land mammal, a beautiful and inteligent creature, we must strive to stop the drastic dwindling of their numbers. Maybe from this distance, we can't personally talk to the farmers who are shooting them or parceling up the cats homeland, destroying their habitat; maybe we aren't the specific ones doing the research to help cheetahs reproduce; and maybe we will never have the pleasure to see a cheetah in the wild...but we can certainly be aware of the plight of the cheetah, and we can spread the message to those we know, and we can donate to the conservation organizations that hire those scientists and advocates in African countries. If we don't do anything, cheetah could be no more than a story of the past to those in the next generation down. My children could never have the opportunity to see these magestic lean cats, with round eyes that can see detail up to 5 km and those dark tear stains that seem to say "Please don't let me go."

Pinned pintail.

I'm sitting in my kitchen, enjoying a chocolate chip muffin, hearing a discovery channel program on reindeer in the background, and thinking happily back on my day. This morning we went to retrieve a pintail duckling who had been limping. Upon examination, we saw that his tiny, grey leg was much more bent than it had originally been. It was time to do xrays. While we set the machines up, we put the little fluffy guy in a carrier. His repeated meek peeps of distress broke my heart. We took a few photographs of his legs, and I worked clumsily in the dark to develop the film. Once the picture was ready for viewing and we put it up, we saw a clearly broken leg. Now, considering you can't give a baby duck crutches and explain to him how not to put weight on his leg, we had to add some support. The bone required pinning. I got surgery set up, preparing a heating pad for the small body. When under anesthesia, animals lose thermoregulation, and so it is very important for us to take measures to keep their body temperature normal. The beak the size of my pinky fit easily into a mask, and he was asleep in no time. My job was to watch ribs rise and fall, occasionally taking a respiration rate. The addition of the pins and stabilizing putty to hold his leg bone in place was a quick procedure. When we were finished, we woke the little guy up easily, and he was pretty ready to get away from us! He strongly resisted as I gave him a mouthful of pain medication, spitting and hissing at me. However, after all that work, we got him set up in a crate filled with a fluffy towel in a warm room with some food and water, and he seemed like a much happier man...we'll know for sure in a week to ten days when we remove the pins and recheck the bones. Today was my first time seeing a bird surgery, and it seemed to be a successful one!