The Poo of Pooh

I struggled to open the ridiculously long, industrial strength plastic bag while wearing protective latex gloves, but I tried my best to mask it. I wanted to impress. This was the moment I'd been working toward, being a Carnivore Keeper's Aide, and I was given my first task -- shoveling bear sh*t. I knew it was a part of the job, but I suppressed a snort when it was the first thing I was assigned. I wondered if it's an inside joke among the staff to throw newbies right into it and see what they're really made of. All I know is, I was determined to make it look like I'd been doing it all my life.

As I scooped up the morning-fresh puddle of gunk, I almost keeled over from the stench. Between that and the weight of the shovel and my gloves sticking to the bag that just would not stay put, I swung it best I could in the direction of the opening and dumped it. It mostly got on the sides, leaving me no clear spot from which to grab it and shake things down. The smell made me care a little less about neatness and more about being done so I brought back the second scoop hoping my aim would be better. It was, but I still had to figure out how to carry the mess with me as I tidied the rest of the habitat. At that moment the very nice keeper took pity and showed me a way to roll and set the bag so I'll do better next time. Still, I did all this with a wry smile on my face thinking: for the rest of my life, this will be a fun story to tell.

I admit, I was shaking in my knee high rubber boots when we first entered the enclosure. I think it crosses everyone's mind that there can be mistakes (if it doesn't, you've done it too long). The keeper told me the bears were properly locked outside so I plunged ahead, though it felt like I had ginger ale in my veins. When I was done collecting carrot remnants and refilling their pool, I watched as he prepared their arthritis

medicine. He mixed it with honey in a Tupperware bowl, then headed around the corner with me in tow. He squatted down and I stopped short in my tracks. What I didn't expect was to see a GIANT grizzly right THERE.

A GIANT bear, did I mention that?

In my pre-Aide interview, the first 30 minutes were essentially warnings consisting of things I should not or could not do for my and the animal's safety. At the end they asked if I had any questions and I joked, "Um, what can I do?" So I expected this bear to fling himself against the bars, roaring and swiping at the bowl with claws as long as my fingers. I figured we'd have to push the bowl toward him from a great distance with a very long indestructible pole, as if he were Hannibal Lecter.

But the keeper was kneeing right against the bars cooing to the bear, who had his paws curled up under him like a pussy cat. He was so big he disappeared into the shadows of the cage. But his head was fully visible, apart from the hulk of him -- and it was massive, with thick dark fur only serving to make it bigger (and by the way, this guy is the smaller of the two on exhibit). Yet he could not have been more sweet and docile, sticking his tongue way out of his long snout to reach the honey/meds in the bowl. It took me a moment to collect myself before I thought to whip out my iPhone. I didn't know if it was OK or totally unprofessional to snap a pic... but since I saw volunteers taking pictures here and there, I risked it. This hasty stealth move accounts for my fuzzy shot, but it does capture them moment for me to keep. 

At the end the keeper stuck in the spoon and asked the bear softly if he'd like to lick it, which he did. These are old bears and maybe that accounts for it, but this ruddy, masculine keeper's tenderness toward them was a great example of the effect animals have on people's hearts.