“To see the new polar bear exhibit at the Buffalo Zoo,” we replied, when asked why we wanted to enter the U.S. The American border guard waved us on. The temperature was a shade below freezing. Brisk wind carried whiffs of snow off nearby Lake Erie.[teaserbreak]
With me was Rob Laidlaw, founder of Zoocheck and a life-long friend. “This is an old one,” he explained, “founded in 1875, third oldest zoo in the U.S.” I was depressed by some of the timeworn, menagerie-type caging that lingered from 19th century ignorance of the needs, behaviors, and nature of animals.
However, the $14 million polar bear exhibit was new. The zoo occupied more than 23 acres of a sectioned area of parkland. That’s a tiny fraction of the amount of space a polar bear uses in the wild. A reasonable part of that amount—half, or even a third—would give the bears a little bit of space.
But, no; there was nothing “new” about an exhibit that is 1.5 acres in total size. I’m sure that about half of that, as is typical with the “traditional” old style zoos, is for people. These areas included sound-bite factoids (readily available elsewhere), plus a “World Record Class” polar bear, according to the faded-to-nearly-illegible sign on the glass case containing the stuffed animal. The animal was “taken” by “E Johnson” in March, 19… I couldn’t read the rest. The name of the taxidermist was only partly readable.
Outside were two small pens, each with mounds of earth, fake rocks, and tiny pools with glass fronts to allow us to see bears swimming under the water. We watched one bear for quite a while. The bear, fur patchy, eschewed whatever part of the acre-and-a-half was for bears, and repeatedly followed a single route, wearing a path in the snow. Photography conditions were poor for an amateur like me, but you can see in my photo the path the animal invariably walked again and again. It’s called “stereotypic behavior” and it’s not seen in normal, emotionally healthy wild animals. (Yes, both Rob and I have seen wild polar bears where they belong: far, far from places like this.)
To be sure, this is a small improvement over what I’m sure the first polar bears endured when put in the zoo more than a century ago—but that’s of little comfort to bears, or to us. But then, the gaunt bear entered the water and began to splash joyously… or so I thought. Alas, I was wrong.
As Rob took video, the bear exercised an intricate set of actions, including diving and back-swimming. Then, the exact same behavior was done again, and again, and again: not a spontaneously joyous bout of fun, but a sad, mad repetition. It was more stereotypic behavior, now in the water.
We were the last to leave the zoo, as sad as the gray sky overhead. Nothing new here.
Keep wildlife in the wild,
Barry