R-E-S-P-E-C-T

I just got back from the All About Kids Expo, and I am so frustrated that I could scream.

I wasn't looking forward to working there this weekend in the first place. The idea of manning a booth in a convention center full of hyperactive kids wasn't my idea of a fun way to spend a Saturday afternoon. But I accepted my shift assignment, and drove downtown, expecting the worst.

Surprisingly, it wasn't the kids that were the source of my frustration. I colored with a few children, talked to parents about the different programs that the Zoo offers, and even managed to sign up a few teachers for my department's mailing list.

The expo wasn't as busy as I'd expected it to be, so my co-worker and I took turns walking around to the other booths, checking out the rest of the displays and organizations around us. A lot of the groups left me perplexed; it was my understanding that the participating companies were supposed to be resources for parents and teachers. Why there was a window company in a booth near the entrance is still a mystery to me.

Our booth was near one of the stages, so inbetween talking to folks, we watched the shows. After sitting through a marionette show, a girl who sang patriotic tunes and contemporary Christian songs with no emotion in her voice whatsoever, and a guy with a guitar that featured characters from Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood (including the real Mr. McFeely - speedy delivery!), a man in a field vest with an oversized fake king snake got on stage. He was lugging several animal carriers and coolers with him. (Coolers are generally used for transporting endothermic animals like reptiles and amphibians.)

"I think he's got animals with him," my co-worker noted.

Indeed, he did have animals. And with every animal he brought out, I winced a little more. After completing animal handling training classes for my job, I've become highly critical of other animal demonstration programs. At the Zoo, we try to lessen the stress on our program animals by handling them with the utmost respect. There are specific procedures that are followed when preparing the animal for travel, when holding the animal during the program, when letting the audience touch the animal.

This guy broke almost every rule I'd been taught in my training. He brought out a blue-tongued skink and proceeded to talk about it while gesturing with his hands. I'm sure the poor little lizard's brains were scrambled from being whipped around. He brought out a ring-necked dove and let it just sit on his hand while he talked. Well, until he grasped the animal over its upper body and "hopped" it across the children's outstretched hands.

At this point, my curiousity got the best of me, and I nonchalantly strolled over to find out who this guy was representing. Apparently it was a group called Silly Safaris from Indianapolis, and they were stationed opposite the stage area. I walked over to their booth to see what I could learn about their program, and spent a brief time talking with one of the "funologists" from the company.

After watching the show, talking to the "funologist," and watching him interact with the children in their area, I don't think I recall hearing a single educational fact about any of the animals they'd brought with them. (I do recall him mentioning something about the AZA frowning upon hands-on outreach programs, which is news to me. The Frisch's Discovery Center and related school outreach program is celebrating its 25th successful year at the Cincinnati Zoo, and I haven't heard the AZA breathing down our necks.)

Don't get me wrong; I'm sure these guys mean well. I'm sure that conservation is important to them and that they love animals. It's just their methods that worry me. Watching their program onstage gave me that same awkward discomfort I felt when parents are neglectful of where their children have wandered off to in a shopping mall. (This used to happen a lot when I worked at Warner Brothers. The mothers would turn their kids loose, and when one of the display cookie jars was broken by a curious four-year-old, the mother would glare at me for letting her child play with it.)

I know it's natural to accept the way you were taught to do things as the "right" way. It's natural to be critical of the way others react in similar circumstancs, especially when it's related to your career. Back when my sister worked in retail, she used to window shop the competing location of the store for which she worked, mentally grading them on how long it took for a clerk to greet her. Zappagirl breaks out her internal grade card whenever we enter another Best Buy. Roger Mexico is more apt to notice bad acoustics or a muddy sound mix than I am. I still find myself critically watching other bartenders and tsking when tables aren't properly bussed in restaurants.

I guess the main reason why this is sticking in my craw so badly is that it's not just a badly mixed show or a tableful of dirty dishes. These are living animals. They should be treated with care and respect. It is the belief of my department that program animals are used as ambassadors for the animal kingdom. They bear a responsibily to not only entertain, but also to educate. It's not a position to be taken lightly, and the utmost care should be taken by the human educator to ensure that the animal isn't mistreated or stressed out.

Over the past few months, the Zoo has been hosting Summer Camp programs, and my office was used as storage for the program animals in between programs. Often I'd have four or five carriers of varying shapes and sizes behind me, and sometimes people would wander into my office and peer through the holes in the crates. "Oooh! What's that?"

"An African grey hornbill (or a skunk or ball python or whatever was in the carrier)," I would answer.

"Can you get him out? Can I see him?"

"I'm sorry, but no."

"Aw, c'mon. Why not?"

"Because that animal is not signed out to me today, and just completed his program for the day. He's done with work, and is just waiting to be taken back to his home." Actually it's more like this animal just did three programs for a bunch of fidgety four and five year olds; wouldn't you want to be left alone after that too?

Some people haven't gotten past the "animals are neat" stage, and it's frustrating. Every day I take phone calls from people who bought exotic animals as pets without thinking, only to realize that they don't know how to take care of them. This is usually the point where they call the Zoo for advice (or worse yet, to make a "donation"). I cheerfully try to re-direct their calls to organizations that can help them, but in the back of my head I wonder who would buy a Burmese python not realizing it may eventually grow to 22 feet and live for up to 25 years.

Still, I suppose people are getting better. I remember back when keeping an animal in a barren small barred cage was the norm at most zoos, and people thought of lions and monkeys as novel pets.

I'm sure there was a point I was trying to make here, but I'm so irritated that I can't sum it all up in a neat little package. I guess that working in the field I do makes me a little more critical about the way other people treat their animals when using them to convey a message of conservation. It's the same way I feel about Jack Hanna when he appears on The Late Show with David Letterman. While I applaud his reasons for making the appearance, I wonder how much of his message is strewn to the wayside while the animals are running rampant across the stage, and how much credibility is being blown for other conservation groups that use animals as a teaching tool.

Sigh. Most of the time my job is very rewarding, but sometimes it's very frustrating. Guess I'll go unwind and play with the kitties for a while. I've been ignoring them while I've ben typing this this out, and since Zappagirl pointed out in her last entry where the human race stands in relation to the felines, I'm being neglectful at the moment....

So much for my big talk about respecting animals. I suppose the extra catnip won't completely atone for my sins, but it'll be a good start, right?