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ZOO ANIMAL
ATACKS ON KEEPERS
SOME
THOUGHTS
John M. Regan
The death of the Head Keeper at the Canby Refuge in
Oregon is the second such incident in a wildlife refuge in less than a year.
I feel terrible for the keepers who lost their lives and I feel the
same for the families who lost loved ones in what is An unexpected and
tragic way to die. There will
be an investigation of the most recent incident, just as there are for all
of these accidents.
Unfortunately, in all but the rarest cases the cause is always the same –
human carelessness.
In the short time I worked with exotic animals I was
attacked or bitten by hippos, elephants, big cats, primates, raccoons,
otters, and several other species I can’t recall.
Certainly there were contributing factors: lack of proper safety
protocols, lack of supervisor oversight, and zoo design among other things.
But the final responsibility rested with me.
I underestimated my ignorance and the ability of the animal.
There are situations when locks or barriers fail but normally the
fault is that of the animal caretaker or co-workers.
I do not mean to cast blame on the people in Oregon; the
keepers in this instance could very well be blameless.
They loved and cared for their animals to a degree hard to understand
for most people. Of that I am
certain. I was no different.
Sometimes, however, this devotion blinds us to the idea that these
beautiful animals would deliberately attack and attempt to harm or kill.
In 1975 I was working at the Central Florida Zoo in
Sanford, Florida. It was a very
old facility at that time. Many
years before, a circus went bust and the animals became wards of the city.
Eventually the good people of Sanford decided to upgrade the zoo, but
the location of it in the middle of this small town (at least it was in
1975) made expansion impractical.
Money was raised to build a new zoo on the outskirts of Sanford where
it now stands. But before the
move was made we had to make do with what we had.
Meanwhile the very able fund raising abilities of Jack Hanna kept
money coming in and we added to our animal collection.
As I said we had to make do.
Lacking holding pens for the cats we often worked around them,
cleaning with a hose from the outside.
Our two cougars, however, were treated differently.
Cleo, an older female, had been declawed before arriving at the zoo
so the danger from her was minimal.
Fletcher, a younger male, had been hand raised by the curator of
cats. We knew Fletcher well and
often played with him in a small field behind the park.
Inevitably, of course, the day came when the cat got too big for his
keeper’s house. He came to the
zoo and was installed in the enclosure with Cleo.
Although nearly full grown Fletcher remained a playful
feline. In fact, cleaning time
was play time. Normally the
gentlemen who raised him did the cleaning, but we filled in for each other
from time to time. We had a
standard routine. A quick
squirt from the water hose sent Cleo bounding up into a makeshift den on the
far side of the cage where she’d keep a wary eye on us but stay for the
duration of the cleaning.
Two anchor fence cage doors comprised the entrance.
With Cleo in her den at the far side of the enclosure it was safe for
a keeper to open the first door, step inside and close it.
This put the keeper in a small contained area of about ten to twelve
square feet. Outside of the
other door, but still inside the enclosure, Fletcher eagerly awaited play
time. For this we kept a large
rubber ball or something similar.
Once the interior door was opened, Fletcher would bound in, play with
us for a short while, and then attack his toy.
Once this ritual was over we’d step around him and close that door.
This left Fletcher between the two entry doors and Cleo hiding in her
den. The business of hosing
down the cage could begin.
I’d done this several times so on this particular day I
had no reason to expect anything different.
I squirted Cleo up into her den and opened the first cage door.
I entered and closed that door behind me.
I don’t recall what I had brought that day to entertain Fletcher, but
I know I had something. I
opened the second door fully expecting the big cat to roughhouse with me a
bit and then go after his play toy.
He did not. As soon as I
opened the door Fletcher growled loudly and attacked me.
His assault knocked me back against the first door.
This probably saved me from real serious injury by keeping me on my
feet and my face away from the cat’s teeth and claws.
Half standing on his hind legs now Fletcher dug his teeth into my
stomach and his front claws into my back.
At first he did nothing by hold me in this position.
Alarmed, but still keeping my wits, I shifted my body away from the
cat’s grip. Fletcher let loose
a long menacing growl, bit down harder on my stomach, and dug deeper into my
back – a warning not to try that again.
I could feel my skin being punctured and torn.
I knew I had a serious problem.
To say I was frightened would be an understatement.
Every move I made triggered an angry reaction from the cougar.
The normally playful cat snarled at me with narrowed eyes and ears
laid back on his head.
Thankfully, the fellow who had raised him was not far
away and heard my call for help.
It took some time but we slowly calmed Fletcher down and I escaped.
Just as important, Fletcher did not escape from his enclosure and
into a park crowded with visitors, many of whom had gathered around to watch
the show. I was chewed and
ripped up, but not too seriously.
No one ever went in there with Fletcher again.
From then on we cleaned from the outside.
So why had an otherwise playful and even tempered animal
suddenly attacked me? It is
hard to know the answer for certain.
Something in my actions, Fletcher’s increased maturity, and the
natural reactions of a big cat combined to bring on the attack.
Perhaps I had invaded his space and the male cat was showing me who
was boss. Maybe Fletcher had
attacked with a playful intent in mind but his hunting instincts took over.
Something from outside the enclosure might have startled him.
There is no doubt, however, about who was at fault.
I was not a big cat trainer and I
had not raised this one from a cub.
I did not take the time to read the cat’s body language prior to
opening the interior door. I
just assumed all would be the same.
I did not even think to have a backup person for safety.
If the man who’d raised him not been there that day I might have been
torn to pieces or worse. And
then - the obvious question:
what on earth gave me the idea that it was safe to go into an enclosure with
two grown mountain lions? How
utterly stupid!
But we loved and trusted all of our animals.
I entered the elephant and hippo enclosure every day without fear.
There we just a few that we absolutely knew would hurt or kill us if
we got too close; mainly the tigers, lions, and grown primates.
But even the lions respond like big kittens when we reached through
the bars and scratched them.
There it is again – that trust thing born of a love of animals and a desire
to be as close to them as possible.
It can kill you.
I was certainly more careful afterwards.
Being in the claws and jaws of a big cat or in the grips of an animal
the size of an elephant or the strength of a chimpanzee imparts an
overwhelming humility. You
realize the fragility of our human form.
The animal is armed from nose to tail with superior weaponry,
strength, and purpose. A ninth
degree black belt in the most deadly martial art known to man will not help.
In this one on one contest the human inevitably loses.
But keepers and trainers continue to put themselves in
this situation all the time.
One of them is paying the price even as I write these words.
You’ll surely read about more such attacks and many more after that.
But that won’t stop the kind of people who do this work.
The love and fascination they have for animals is all encompassing
and overpowering. Many safety
precautions and protocols have been instituted since the days when I worked
with exotic animals. Some have
even gone too far in my opinion.
But no matter what rules and regulations are written; no matter what
warnings are given accidents are going to happen.
In the end it is a personal responsibility and I hope the zoo in
question does not have to pay an onerous price.
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