See, I have a thing for cats. Not in a
crazy-neighbor-lady-with-a-suspiciously-large-number-of-them way…well, not yet
at least.
There was amazing footage of the tigers in the wild,
including a funny part where a young cub is retrieved from its den to be tagged
while its (already tagged) mother is away. All seven pounds of that tiger cub
were furious and letting the researchers know it! Which was funny in an
oh-my-if-he-were-just-a-few-months-older-he’d-rip-out-all-their-throats way.
Don’t worry about Momma Tiger (who had been named Olga by the researchers, and
why does my mind deem that little gem worthy of memory but where I put my
glasses or keys isn’t considered important enough?) – she would never know about
the cross-species intrusion because the researchers had thoughtfully coated
their gloves in tiger poo before doing their work. Ah, the glamour of science!
What really caught my eye was when one of the researchers
had to give breathing assistance to a large male tiger that didn’t react well to
the sedative. And, you might ask, how does one do such a thing for a tiger?
Apparently one first holds shut the tiger’s jaw, a jaw approximately the size
of the researcher’s head. Then one cups one’s hand around the tiger’s nose,
gently places one’s mouth around said nose, and blows into the nostrils. One
does not truly appreciate the size of a tiger’s nostrils until one sees someone
perform such an act. One does not truly appreciate the dedication of scientists
until one sees someone perform such an act.
They gave the tiger a little shot of reviver and scurried
through the tagging process double time to ensure they finished before he woke
up completely. And when the camera man gets a shot of the tiger’s tail
twitching and his eye roving about while the researchers work quickly around
him? That’s the moment I would have run back to the Jeep, sobbing in fear. Of
course these researchers were dropped in by helicopter so it would have been a
very long run. Or a very short one, this being tiger territory. I mean really,
I can’t even handle a bear.
And apropos of nothing except tigers, an anecdote:
When I moved with my then-boyfriend to Phoenix in the mid
90’s, there was an animal park north of Scottsdale that was dedicated to large
cats. It was a decidedly un-fancy affair, but the animals all had large spaces
and the staff was obviously deeply dedicated to helping not only the cats at
the park (many of whom had been abandoned, abused, or injured) but also
educating the visitors about the plight of large cats worldwide. A little
internet research shows that the Out of Africa Wildlife Park has since moved further north
and expanded. No doubt because their original space is now populated by
McMansions and upscale strip malls.
When I visited the park in their salad days, they had a show
area with a shallow pool surrounded by (very tall) chain link fencing. The
“show” consisted of tigers encouraged to engage in natural behaviors by park
employees (there is video as well as photos of the current Tiger Splash here). The announcer stressed that the employees were not trainers, and the
tigers were not trained performers, pointing out that having multiple humans in
with the tigers mitigated the danger of attack by continuously distracting the
tiger. In a multilevel approach to mitigating that danger, one also hopes the
tigers were also well fed.
In keeping with the aesthetic and budget, the seating for
the watchers of this show was a set of old, metal bleachers like I remember
sitting on at baseball games in my brother’s Little League years. The
awesomeness of getting to sit just a few feet from a chain-link fence
separating people from tigers created one tiny problem though. Much like the
annoying tabby from down the street that insists on urinating in your flower
bed, tigers have a strong urge to mark their territory. This urge will be
heightened by the presence of perceived interlopers, i.e. a large group of
humans (or possibly tasty treats in tiger eyes) on the other side of the fence. Unlike that
neighborhood tabby though, tigers – both male and female – are capable of
lifting their tails and shooting a prodigious stream of urine directly behind
them at alarmingly high velocity*. This created a unique job opportunity at the
park.
At every show there were two people standing next to the
fence on either side of the bleachers. Each carried a large, round, trashcan
lid. When a tiger would saunter over and pace along the fence (deciding who to
order for lunch perhaps?), one of these people would follow it just along the
short arc of the bleachers. If, while the tiger was at this section of fence,
he or she turned to present us with a view of the secret, under-tail, tiger
parts, the trashcan lid would be strategically placed against the fence sparing
us all a tiger pee soak. Everyone in the audience did the requisite, “Ew,
yuck!” after the announcer explained the trashcan lid jockeys’ job. Then my
boyfriend turned to me and said, “You would volunteer for that job just to get
closer to the tigers, wouldn’t you?”
Yes. Yes, I would.
* I was lucky (?) enough to witness this phenomenon at Tucson’s
Reid Park zoo once. A few children were standing at the plexiglass window, very
excited about the tiger being so close. The children, not as knowledgable about
tiger territory marking as I am, were completely unprepared for the fire hose
of pee that came shooting out of tiger’s butt. I almost peed my own pants
laughing while the children screamed. Does that make me a bad person?
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1 comment:
nice blog..
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