Big Cat Afternoon 1: Intro
Big Cat Afternoon 1: Intro
I leaned back in my office chair and took a deep breath. I looked out the window across the enclosures and the people milling about and thought "What a life. Wish I could...." Then the realization came to me and I mentally toyed with the thought for awhile. I looked at the clock which read 11:45 and I thought to myself "Hm... If I make my own lunch that'd be a half hour, if I grab something from the lunch cart that'd be only 15 minutes.... The paperwork is caught up, nothing seems to be going wrong out and about...." I skewed my jaw and thought whether I should really do what I was thinking of doing. "Fuck it, I can skip lunch," I smiled and got up from my desk.
I headed down the stairs and out into the park. Well, "park" would likely be a bit of a misnomer. Well, perhaps not. Most people think of an amusement park or a city park, but this was sort of somewhere in between a picnic place with a couple acres of lawns and a small zoo. Well, at least small by some standards. Coming through a gate marked "Authorized Personnel Only", I joined a clump of people as I walked past the foxes, the wolves, the petting zoo and headed around the loop to the cathouse. Well, at least that's what we tend to call it. It's somewhat of a recreation of a 1911 building designed to house the big cats. The design was tweaked to look like it'd been here next to forever, and was substantially built to play the part, but to also allow for our more modern handling techniques and care facilities.
I held one of the heavy brass-and-mitered-glass doors for the guests to enter as I followed them into the ivy-covered red brick structure. To enter it you literally do feel like you're stepping back in time to an age of polished brass handrails and black wrought-iron cages as you find yourself studying the murals painted on the cage walls, the heavy oak door marked "Private" with frosted impression glass and skeleton-key lock, the iron locks securing the cages that you could readily see being used on a stagecoach's Wells Fargo strongbox.
Personally I enjoy watching the public's reaction to this place. Some are awestruck at the seeming history of it, others are disgusted by it. You can readily tell which is which in the adults, but the children... I fish around my large keyring for the key and enter the door leading to the mezzanine level, the same level at which the cages are accessed. Walking along the brass-railed "terrace" between the cages and the public, I heard shouted up to me. "What are you doing? Going to feed the cats?"
Stopping, I turned as a group clumps near on the lower floor, about two feet below me, and answer questions for a bit, telling them that every so often we check the cats' medical conditions and do training with them. This, I informed them, was something not usually done in may zoos because the AZA - Association of Zoos and Aquariums - frowns upon the practice of having "trained" animals at their member zoos, but that many smaller zoos continue direct interaction with their animals, especially the larger carnivores, in order to better maintain their health with fewer problems and far fewer times being anesthetized for simple examinations that, with training, can routinely be performed with the animal fully conscious. I went on to explain that I was going to be moving some of the cats around for this purpose and to watch out when the male lion comes by, because he liked to play "squirt gun".
That statement always got a mixed reception - those that understood what I meant, and those that were confused. If many were confused I usually ended up explaining that male big cats turn their rump to something they want to mark with their scent and pee backwards on it, much like a dog lifts it's leg, and that some big cats can get a range of nearly 20 feet out of their stream. That usually embarrassed a few people in the crowd, but... oh well. They'd likely be telling their friends and co-workers about it the following day.
I turned and headed towards the lions, which were my target for the day. I watched them for a little bit as a couple milled about the indoor cage. Just as I'd suspected, most had come in out of the midday sun and were laid out taking their catnaps. Pickles - so named because of her affinity for the food, and for any vinegar-based stuff in general - was up harassing Hugo as I figured would be happening. She was just at the beginning of her heat and while she would tease him and crouch, she would get up and move away as soon as he would mount and start to get close to his target. Hugo, at the moment, wasn't playing her game and was voofing and batting at her with his forepaws as he laid with his back up against one of the masonry walls.
I called to her and she immediately padded towards the gate. In the reflection of my glasses I saw the crowd take a couple steps back from the barrier railing as she came right up to the gate while I flipped through my keys to the correct one for that lock. With a roar, she reared up and stretched, putting her forepaws on the cage bars on the gate and I leaned forward and kissed her nosie. In the periphery of my vision I saw more people came over in a semicircle, looking to see what was going on though they stayed a fair distance away due to their own fear of the big cats.
Unlocking the door, I slipped in and immediately Pickles pinned me to the cage bars and licked me. The crowd had drawn closer now that I was inside and I'm sure some were thinking they were going to be witness to a bloodbath.
Pickles' tongue, like all big cats, had barbs on it much like that of housecats, only proportionally larger and rougher, so her licking was tantamount to a coarse brillo pad rather than just the light sandpaper of a housecat. I turned some and got her in a somewhat-headlock as she moved to put her forepaws on my shoulders in a panthera hug. We stood there "hugging" each other for awhile before she backed off and dropped to all fours, deciding to rub against me like the oversized housecat she tends to be.
I stopped her from pushing me over and reached into my pocket for the webbing leash I usually use. Seeing this, she immediately stopped what she was doing and sat down in front of me, knowing this meant she was going to be going somewhere. Laughter came from the crowd as she did this, and I smiled, both inwardly and outwardly, as they bore witness to training really paying off in keeper/animal interaction.
Looping the webbing around her neck and holding onto the other loop as a handle, I guided her towards the door. There would be no realistic way for me to restrain her using the leash if she really wanted to head out somewhere, but it worked as it should as a guide. Out the gate we went, her tugging a bit at the end to look out at the crowd which had grown silent once again. After I locked the gate again, someone in the crown found the courage to ask "Can't she just... like... eat you if she wanted?"
I turned and nodded. "Yes, she can, but she doesn't want to. What you saw happening in there between her and Hugo, the one male lion, was a prelude to mating. Foreplay, more or less. She's in heat but not ready to receive a male just yet, so that's why I'm taking her out to spend some time in a different enclosure to prevent a breeding." Most of the crowd mouthed "Oh", as I turned and headed towards the end of the terrace and door to the stairs which led down to the main level as well as the "basement", which was really rooms beneath the cages. Pickles followed happily as the pneumatic closer shut the oaken door behind us and we headed down to the basement.
She knew those rooms quite well, as some were treatment rooms, quarrantine cages, holding pens, and a couple of small former-offices now used as storage rooms. She padded along placidly as I moved her to one of the holding pens at the far end of the structure. Nearby was the service tunnel that led to the powerhouse structure that provided heating, cooling, emergency electricity and other services to the zoo complex. It was also connected to many of the buildings in some way or another, and it was connected to the cathouse by a large-ish service tunnel - enough that a golf cart could navigate it alongside the pipes and cables for which it was designed. This was also the way we got the foodstuffs to the big cats from the loading dock at the powerhouse building.
She looked up at me curiously as I flipped on the lights - a combination of fluorescent and incandescent to try to mimic daylight - and shut the gate behind me. Even down here we kept things looking 19-teens and the cagework looked like it belonged to the building, only the locks tended to be different because the public wasn't generally allowed down here except under special educational circumstances.
Pickles nearly mewled and grabbed me again as I undid the leash. "Don't worry, girl, you'll like what I have in store for you later. But it's gotta be a surprise." She seemed to understand and settled herself on a loafing bench - a sort of wooden bench of moderate height for big cats to flop out on - and rolled around a bit to get comfortable. She watched me upside-down as I locked her in and pulled the lever opening the floor drain valve should she feel the need to answer nature's call.
I headed back up the stairs to the mezzanine again. A few of the people from before were still there and had other questions, which I dutifully stopped to answer. That was a big part of my job - or any keeper's job. Educating the public about what we were doing, more or less, was something important so that they could eventually understand that we weren't just sadistic prison guards but instead that much of what we did was to the physical and psychological benefit of the animals in our charge. Though explaining some things we did would be... quite problematic indeed. That was certainly the case with what I was about to do with Hugo when the public ran out of questions. It's not like I could have said "Yeah, I'm going to be doing X, Y and maybe Z to this male lion, most of which you'd find at the very least disgusting, or even severely perverted, but he really likes it!"
Some asked what I had done with Pickles and I explained that she was in a holding pen off public display. A couple wanted to know if she was alright and why only she had been moved. I answered that some of our females were on various forms of birth control, but that some cats, just like some humans, reacted adversely to some things and that Pickles was sort of a special case that required special handling. Some asked about the kinds of birth control methods we used and how we selected which females would be bred. I casually answered that those questions were simple questions with very long-winded and complicated answers and that if they were really interested they could get my email address at the front office. Realistically speaking, I generally sent a form letter to those emails and sometimes ignored them entirely. Another question was what was I going to do next. That was certainly a loaded one but I sort of glazed over it by saying I would be taking Hugo downstairs for a checkup. Someone piped up asking if he was going to get neutered. I couldn't help but laugh at that, as Jake, one of the other male lions in the exhibit, was indeed vasectomized. The group seemed to chuckle along, apart from some who were visibly shocked, but also leaned forward some more as I leaned on the rail and explained that if a male lion was castrated - the same as neutering a dog or housecat - that their mane would fall out if "fixed" as an adult, or not come in at all if sterilized as a youngster, making them look much like a lioness with the exception of head shape. I went on to explain that the only appropriate way of sterilizing a male lion while allowing them to keep their mane is by vasectomy, but that as a breeding facility we weren't inclined to do that unless medically necessary. The public seemed surprised to hear that AZA zoos limit the amount of big cats their member parks could produce, as part of their Species Survival Program matches, and seemed even more shocked to learn about the massive decline in African Lion populations over the past 50 years, since the focus and fundraising has routinely been to keep the feral tiger population afloat.
Hugo, for his part of things, had decided to get up from his nap and, having heard his name, started rubbing against the cage bars for attention. If the bars hadn't been as narrow as they were - one of the tweaks from the original 1911 design - he would have been able to swat my ass as I was explaining things to the people gathered to hear me speak and to learn about the cats. A couple pointed behind me and commented that he wanted to play. Turning around I looked at him and he sat down and let out a loud voof. Yes, voof. It's sort of like a stifled roar and lions sometimes repeat it like VOOF, VOOf, VOof, Voof, voof.... several times in diminishing volume and tempo. I smiled and nodded, and stood to full height again and flipped through my keys, nodding to the group and saying that indeed that was what he was after. He knew that I was there for some reason and that he was curious what it might be. Slipping into the cage he headbutted me - right in the crotch, unfortunately, and proceeded to bounce around me a bit as though his legs were spring-loaded, his thick tail out rearwards with tip twitching in anticipation. I'm sure he could smell in my scent that I was in a good mood, and I knew from his reaction to Pickles that he must be somewhat horny. The few glimpses I had of his rear as he circled me verified that he was indeed a bit puffed up in his sheath, not that the public would really know unless they were so inclined.
I winked to the group and started doing something no one should really do around a big cat - started to move around quickly and playfully with him. Hugo had grown up around me, and so I knew I was reasonably safe to do so with him, even though there were others in the cage too, but many times big cats don't quite realize how fragile humans are when playing and tend to crack ribs accidentally, or create other injuries inadvertently in their play.
Hugo's face went first to a concerned expression, then a smile as he started bopping after me, and thankfully the others that were indoors decided to retreat to the safety of the outdoor enclosure or moved close to the walls as the 200 pounds of human and 400 pounds of lion hopped and bounced, dashed and dodged for a bit before I did a trained trick of ours. I ran from the back wall quickly to the cage bars and grabbed a low horizongal bar which was about waist height. Hugo, playing along, dashed after me and with two bounds caught up to me and leaped towards the bars. The look of shock and horror on the faces of the group outside was priceless as Hugo used my shoulders as a big of a springboard, planted both hindfeet on my hands, nearly crushing them, but his pawpads are reasonably soft, and while balancing in a near vertical position put his forepaws one atop the other on my head and roared out loudly.
Some lady out in the crowd screamed, and I couldn't help but laugh loudly as the bit of a performance ended. The crowd soon caught up and realized it was for show and with the command "Hugo, down," he slid down my back to land first on his hindpaws then all fours on the concrete floor. Applause came from the crowd as I looped the leash around his neck and guided him out through the gate to the terrace. One asked if he had been a circus lion, to which I answered that he had been raised here at the zoo, but that things like they had just witnessed not only give the cats something to do instead of being bored and coming up with their own things to do - many of which aren't necessarily a good thing for humans around them or their own health - but it enhances the level of bond between keeper and cat for the times when their health isn't the best, which results in greater trust when things would hurt, like exams, vaccinations, or simple medical treatments that in other zoos would require the cat be knocked out in order to treat them. I also cautioned them that what they saw would NEVER be appropriate unless there was that degree of bond and trust between keeper and cat, as it would result in the keeper quickly becoming a bloody mess being mopped up off the floor and shoveled up after passing through the cat.
That brought laughs from some and disgusted looks from others, and stares of awe from the kids in the crowd. Hugo decided he wanted to go and headed for the door to the stairs with me in tow. The crowd sort of walked along with us as they continued asking questions and I answered them as simply and quickly as I could. Having reached the door, I gave a couple tugs on the leash as a signal to Hugo and decided to show them one last thing. "Hugo, hug!"
Hugo turned and reared up, putting his forepaws on my shoulders and stretching beween me and the ground, then put his chin atop my head and wrapped his forepaws around my back, hugging me to him. That drew "Awwww"s from the group and I turned the knob, opening the door, and down we went with Hugo leading the way, clearly knowing something was in store for him that he'd likely enjoy. Through the closed door I heard a couple youngsters in the crowd asking their parents if they could get a pet lion, causing me to have hope for the future. If those kids kept that awe and mirth as they grew, then hands-on keeping of big cats would indeed continue instead of being stamped out by the naysayers.