The outcry was deafening, the apology fulsome and the sense of national pride palpable. Paora the kiwi would no longer be offered up for paid encounters by Zoo Miami. The payment for a pat of our nocturnal national bird displayed in bright light would stop forthwith.
Hurrah! There are few feelings more gratifying than righteous indignation affirmed.
But once the sense of triumph had subsided, other reactions began to surface. Images of high-profile New Zealanders and celebrities cuddling kiwi in daylight were shared on social media. They included three former prime ministers (Clark, Key and Ardern), Greens co-leader Marama Davidson and Sir Paul McCartney. Outrage gave way to sneaking admissions of doubt and guilt about the nature of zoos.
An opinion writer pointed to the hypocrisy of standing up for a single kiwi, despite fiddling with tarantulas and accepting lions in enclosures in our own zoos that were much smaller than the wild they evolved in.
While thrilled the practice of paid petting of our taonga had stopped, even the director of Auckland Zoo, Kevin Buley, had misgivings about the Paora victory. Twenty-four hours after the story broke in June, he observed that millions of animals had died in that time as a result of factors including rainforest destruction, infectious diseases and introduced predators such as rats running through populations. Millions? “Yes, millions if you include invertebrates, because they are animals, too.”
Symbols of power
When it comes to zoos, we humans are nothing if not inconsistent. You might even say hypocritical. And mostly we know it. Ask people for their feelings about the display of caged animals and you will be mostly met with mixed responses. Childhood memories of crocodiles in tiny cages, polar bears languishing on faux concrete “ice floes” or a lone swaying elephant sit uncomfortably with the reality that a day at the zoo is still a popular outing for families.
And we’ve been doing it a long time. The business of collecting animals began as the preserve of royals. Private kingly menageries have been found across time and oceans – from 3500BC in Egypt to China, Greek city states and the 15th- and 16th-century Aztec empire in Mexico.
In the early 19th century, these symbols of royal wealth and power transitioned to become symbols of colonial power as the West was able to plunder territories it controlled. Public zoos expanded as cities grew and animals began to disappear from our lives. Farm animals were replaced by machinery, people left the countryside and our contact with nature shrank.
But our curiosity about the natural world did not. The Victorians were crazy about collecting items such as shells, plants and butterflies for both education and entertainment. Public zoos offered a living collection of animals from around the world.
Such was the appetite for novelty in the West, even “exotic” humans in their so-called “natural” state were displayed. The last human zoo, in Belgium and featuring Congolese, shut its doors in 1958.
Living museum model
New Zealand’s oldest zoo, Wellington Zoo, opened in 1906, and like all zoos of this era, fitted the living museum model, displaying exotic animals in small cages for ease of public visibility. Satisfying human curiosity and entertainment were the key motivations – visitors happily pointed and laughed at monkeys behind bars.
As our awareness grew along with alarm at our impact on nature, the zoo rejected the living museum model and came to be regarded as a “frozen ark” – a place where we might hold on to at-risk species until the world had improved.
This idea, popular in the 1970s and 80s, has since been dismissed as it dawned on us that a second Eden wasn’t coming. Or, more pointedly, that this option was not even viable as an alternative. An ecosystem is not static. Predators and prey increase and decrease in a constant battle for supremacy. If we lose a species, then nature accommodates. If they are reintroduced later, there will be an effect.
These days, zoos have to juggle multiple roles – rescue, rehabilitation, conservation, advocacy and education, often working with the Department of Conservation (DoC) and other non-governmental organisations (NGOs). For instance, Orana Wildlife Park near Christchurch works with DoC on recovery programmes for threatened native species such as the South Island whio, kākāriki karaka (orange-fronted parakeet) and Maud Island frogs. Operation Nest Egg, a programme that incubates kiwi eggs and releases the bird into safe, predator-free areas, started at Wellington Zoo and is now nationwide. Napier’s National Aquarium rescues and rehabilitates kororā (little penguins), helps with breeding North Island brown kiwi and advocates for sustainable fisheries through its partnership with the Marine Stewardship Council.
“A good zoo is underpinned by science, underpinned by te ao Māori, underpinned by sustainability, advocacy and conservation of species in the wild,” says Wellington Zoo chief executive Karen Fifield.
It sounds a little like a shopping list of liberal progressive values. But for all this considered underpinning, the simple, most compelling reason for their existence is far more prosaic. It’s us. “Good zoos and aquariums exist to bring people together to build a foundation for a world in which they care about the plight of animals and their environment,” says Fifield.
No amount of watching David Attenborough documentaries will achieve that. Even though we like to think of ourselves as a nation of outdoorsy folk, New Zealand is one of the most urbanised nations on the planet.
“There’s nothing like smelling a giraffe or looking into the eyes of a living animal and seeing their intelligence and spirit. We need that connection point,” says Orana Wildlife Park chief executive Lynn Anderson. “Not everyone can go on safari to see animals in the wild.”
Nor would you want them to. Imagine the 800,000-plus people who visit Auckland Zoo this year trampling through the bird sanctuary of Tiritiri Matangi Island in the Hauraki Gulf.
But to pull the punters on what is primarily a leisure activity, you need animals with charisma, not “the little brown jobs”, as UK naturalist Gerald Durrell famously described the nondescript endangered creatures in the animal kingdom.
The arrival of two snow leopards into a $6 million, purpose-built environment at Wellington Zoo was greeted with much fanfare this year. Perhaps less well known is that the zoo also partners with a non-profit organisation in the snow leopard’s home region of Nepal to support the local community. “If people are hungry, how can we expect them to care if a snow leopard lives or dies?” asks Fifield.
Mini sanctuaries
Zoos can also become their own mini sanctuaries. At 80ha, Orana is New Zealand’s largest zoo. In 2002, staff discovered their large predator-proof area harboured a skink species (the Canterbury spotted skink) thought to be extinct. Native plants now thrive here and native birds such as the black teal and pied stilt come to the park of their own free will.
In Wellington, zoo-bred kākā have made the Zealandia ecosanctuary their home, and Auckland Zoo hopes its work with native species will lead to neighbouring Western Springs Park becoming the Zealandia of the north.
In the bad old days, zoos engaged in illegal trade and collection of wildlife, but now good zoos co-operate with one another, breeding and sharing animals. Zoo breeding programmes are managed to ensure genetic diversity, essential for species such as tigers where there are more animals in captivity than in the wild. Exotic at-risk species such as the American vulture, black-footed ferret and the Mongolian horse are also bred and returned to the wild.
But no matter how much zoos attempt to mitigate their limitations, they do not get a free pass from their critics. Animal rights groups including Safe are opposed to the capture, breeding and keeping of animals in zoos. They urge the public to avoid them, highlighting the lack of space for animals that normally travel many kilometres each day, the lack of stimulation and the difficulty many animals have expressing much of their natural behaviour. They suggest, among other actions, the public visit sanctuaries or wildlife parks instead.
For others, including American ecophilosopher Derrick Jensen, zoos don’t just demean animals, they demean humans. Although he acknowledges we need contact with wild animals to remind us of the enormous complexity of life, that the world was not made for us, and to teach us how to live, Jensen says zoos fail this test. What zoos offer us are superficial relationships based on hierarchy, dominance and submission, not unlike pornography.
“Here is the real lesson taught by zoos … and really the only lesson that matters: that a vast gulf separates humans and all other animals. It is wider than the widest moat, stronger than the strongest bars, more certain than the most lethal electric fence. We are here. They are there. We are special. We are separate.”
As for the argument that zoos change people’s attitudes, the actual evidence is mixed, says Professor Neil Carr of the University of Otago. “The extent to which zoos engage with visitors in a way that is beyond entertainment is debatable.” If the zoo displaying orangutans explains what people can do to assist the animal’s welfare (such as not buying products with palm oil harvested from their habitat in Indonesia), and change happens, then that is meaningful. But measuring people’s empathy or changed behaviour is not easy, he says. “If an animal is not endangered, there’s no environmental reason for it to be in a zoo. It’s just there as entertainment.”
Those who work in zoos will tell you zoo animals are the ambassadors of their species, and that for all our past misdemeanours, we human custodians can, and do, learn. The National Aquarium in Napier released its sharks after criticism that their tank’s sharp edges caused nose injuries. Wellington Zoo ceased cheetah and lion encounters as the animals aged and showed less interest in engaging with visitors. In Auckland, the chimpanzee tea parties and elephant rides ended long ago, and Orana no longer permits visitors to tour the park in their own car due to health and safety concerns.
Paid animal encounters live on, however. At Orana, you can join a tour through the pride reserve. Auckland offers giraffe and red panda experiences and, at Wellington Zoo, lemurs may feed from your hand, offering visitors the opportunity to “sink your fingers into the softest fur”. Fees for these experiences range from $99 to $190 a person.
The difference between encounters in the past and now is vast, say the zoo bosses, the most important being that the animal has agency. If an animal doesn’t want to interact with people, it doesn’t have to. Animals are closely monitored by trained staff to ensure they exhibit natural behaviour.
Research on whether zoo animals enjoy interactions with humans is mixed, though zoo staff report that many animals appeared to be pleased to see the return of visitors after the Covid lockdowns ended. How could they tell? Many made their way to where the visitors were stationed and the animals appeared livelier.
As well, it can be argued that the upside of captivity is the removal of many negative aspects of living in the wild, such as hunger, disease, predators and poachers.
If nothing else, zoos ask us to examine our relationship to animals. After all, many of us maintain animals in a kind of captivity. Animals once kept to serve useful purposes, such as guard dogs and mice-killing cats, are now kept for company, or sometimes as status symbols. During Covid, pet numbers ballooned – cats were coddled, dogs were walked obsessively. Post-Covid, animal love and need waned. Many pets found their way to the SPCA. Companion animals were once again relegated to the margins.
Then there is the issue of farm animals. How many live in paddocks without the shelter of trees? And what about the killing of newborn bobby calves and lambs for consumption? And let’s not talk about eternally lactating cows.
Check the accreditation
With more than 700 million visitors and US$350 million invested in wildlife conservation in situ each year, the global zoo and aquarium community represents the third-largest conservation organisation in the world.
But people like Auckland’s Buley know zoos have a problem. Truth is, many are rubbish. He estimates only 10% of the world’s 10,000 zoos are accredited. That 90% remain unaccredited means zoos are defined “by the lowest common denominator”. He recommends the public check the accreditation of zoos they visit.
The best zoos are accredited to international organisations such as the Zoo and Aquarium Association Australasia (ZAA) and the World Association of Zoos and Aquariums. Fifield is a former president of the former and incoming president of the latter. The ZAA represents 98 zoos, aquariums, sanctuaries and wildlife parks in Australia, New Zealand and Papua New Guinea, and has a progressive, science-based approach to animal welfare. It uses the “five domains model” developed at Massey University that champions welfare from the animal’s perspective. These examine the health, environment, nutrition and behaviour of the animals. Once these four domains are met, the fifth is assessed – the mental state of the animal: Is the animal having a positive experience of life? Is it a life worth living? The answers to questions such as these will be based on the science of what we know about animals.
Modern zoo design aims to create a varied environment in a reasonable space. Staff work to provide stimulation for their charges to mitigate the limitations of their environment, particularly using food. Much depends on how the animal feeds in the wild. Big cats, being gorge feeders, are fed only when hungry, giraffes have their food hoisted above them and the intelligent kea is challenged with puzzle feeders. Feeding times and locations vary to maintain interest.
A modern zoo experience does not promise sightings of every animal. “What we offer is an experience of coming to a beautiful place and being surrounded by nature,” says Fifield. “And chances are you will also learn something.”
Past mistakes
The consequences of thoughtless decisions made in the past can be disastrous down the line. In 2019, Wellington Zoo had to euthanise a troop of male baboons that fought constantly, so now Fifield spends a lot of time thinking about what her successor will inherit in 20 years’ time. Obviously no baboons. These hierarchical, highly social primates are difficult to house in an urban zoo. Sadly, no other zoo wanted their male baboons. Wellington Zoo will also never have elephants, since the terrain is too hilly, but Fifield is confident they are able to look after monkeys and big cats well.
What of the next 100 years? If species extinction is not halted, the outlook is bleak. In the worst-case scenario, zoo animals will become living monuments to their own disappearance and a tragic epitaph to our neglect.
Zoo folk prefer a more optimistic outlook. Their blue-sky thinking envisages zoos as conservation powerhouses in a predator-free New Zealand, with people viewing taonga on bush walks, a greater role for technology for visitors and animal welfare, fewer bad zoos as a result of public intolerance, and, then as now, zoos nurturing connections between people and wildlife.
Zoos need the public to keep asking questions to continue to improve, says Carr. Even animal rights naysayers play a useful role in prodding people to think.
If current visitor numbers are any indication, zoos will not be on the extinction list any time soon. A day at the zoo remains a treat, especially for families with children. At the very least, the good zoos are working to ensure their future childhood memories will not be marred by twinges of guilt.
Beyond the enclosure
As well as rehabilitating injured native species, the nation’s most popular zoo encourages people to care about the plight of wildlife.
Now in its 100th year, Auckland Zoo has never been busier.
The nation’s most popular zoo is on track to host a record 800,000 people this year, an indication that it has significant public support.
What began as a private menagerie in Whanganui moved to Onehunga in 1911, despite objections by locals, who complained about the noise of the lions. The opposition was such that the owner eventually sold up and the Auckland City Council took over, establishing the zoo in the central suburb of Western Springs.
From the outset, it was clear a successful zoo had to have the support of its community. That is still true today, says director Kevin Buley. Hence the need to tell stories like those in its centenary book, Auckland Zoo: 100 Years, 100 Stories, and on screen with the television series Wild Heroes (Three) launched last October.
The easiest stories to tell are the good-news ones like their funding of conservation projects in the wild, such as for orangutans, tigers and rhinos in Sumatra, the red panda in Nepal and elephants in Sri Lanka.
Or their rescue and rehabilitation of injured native species such as the 50 Kapitia skinks, a critically threatened species found only on the West Coast, brought to the zoo when a cyclone destroyed almost half their habitat. Under the zoo’s care, the population almost doubled before they were returned to a safer location this year.
The hardest stories are those that upset the public’s sensitivities and require education. The common practice of euthanising animals may be the “last gift you can give an animal” in Buley’s view, but it can be controversial.
Euthanasia is only done when the zoo can no longer provide an acceptable standard of care, such as when an animal is old and unwell, when there are too many of a particular species, or an alternative home cannot be found. Euthanised animals may be fed to other animals in the zoo.
“New Zealand can accept pest control, but we can tie ourselves in knots with individual welfare situations. On the plus side, this does demonstrate humans are a caring species that can connect with animals,” says Buley.
Others are squeamish about practices that benefit zoo animals, such as feeding large carcasses to the big cats, fearing children might be traumatised by the sight of a lion devouring a horse’s head. Auckland Zoo is careful to explain to the public why food like this stimulates and challenges these carnivores. Besides, says Buley, “children won’t be put off. Far from it, they’ll love it.”
And what of the practice of removing the flight feathers from flamingos so they can’t fly? Buley says there is an ongoing discussion about the ethics of such actions and they make sure the removal is not painful. Do the flamingos miss flying?
“Apart from high primates, animals live almost exclusively in the moment. The idea that an animal can miss something is conferring too much on their cognitive ability. If an animal is always in the moment, what is it that the animal is experiencing at this particular point in time? There are other measures of evaluating outcomes, such as the quality of life we give them and breeding success.”
Should zoos disappear, Buley believes species extinction will follow, especially the less well-known animals.
“The ultimate goal is wildlife in the wild. Everything we do is to promote that. But I firmly believe that if not for good zoos, people would have less contact with wildlife and natural spaces, be less empathetic to the plight of wildlife, and have less of an understanding of the consequences to humanity.”
If we don’t care about wildlife and their habitat, and the environment crashes, we are doomed as a species.
Buley says, “We spend billions of dollars sending people to the Moon with the idea of creating a new Eden if this world collapses, but we are on Eden now. We will never find a better planet than this one.”
