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.
I mean, look at that face! And that three toned mane -- reddish blonde that turns first to chestnut, then into dark, mahogany brown. He's the only lion I've seen whose mane continues all the way down his chest and abdomen... it's a testosterone trifecta. 
We were driving along in an area so lush and green crayola crayons super pack doesn't even make the color, and we saw three miniature horses. Maybe this is a known breed, but I've never seen anything like it before.
Made you smile, didn't it? This is not a professional actor and this pic was not posed! She was doing this all on her own and I happened to have my camera in hand.
*you can double click this picture to see the little fella much bigger and it's worth it* 
I ended up helping rake and clear their habitat since I couldn't find anyone in carnivores. It did my heart good to be near them. Once I got close enough, my new boyfriend put his big face down to mine and got nose to nose with me. He stayed there breathing through his soft nostrils. His keeper, thinking I might be unnerved, said he might just want to smell me but I knew different.
He's pressing into my cheek and knocking my glasses askew, but clearly he loves me... for who I am, not how I look on clean up day! And I love him!
The snow was grey-white marbled with streaks of dirt made from the rock it was crushing below as it moved (yes, it was moving, though so slow you could never tell). I don't know that I gave much thought to what being on a glacier would be like, but everywhere we went there were surprises -- like sky blue translucent ice caves or little streams of clear, cold, clean, glistening water. 
I mentioned here that when Nutrias swim up when I'm feeding the crew at the park, it upsets the apple cart entirely. While the geese are the biggest and the law seems to be that all the rest stand back til they're done, not so when Nutrias try to join in. Maybe it's because they're oblivious to the pecking order. Here's Mr. Goose taking a stand. The Nurita remains nonplussed, too busy wiggling his whiskers to feel out where the bread is (lower right corner) to grok he's being challenged by the King of Everything.
From up near the clouds that adorable face glide straight down like a crane on that long, long neck. They've got 7 vertebrae just like us -- but each one measures the height of our head alone. Around something this big, all your instincts kick on... yet their sweet, harmless nature had my nervous system stumped. To be able to stand up close to this towering presence sends a shiver of delight though your being. 
This is a Nutria. He looks like a cousin of the Beaver with his big front teeth, webbed back feet and the same glossy brown fur. The only obvious difference is in the tail. Where beavers typically have a paddle shape, the Nutria's looks just like a rat's. In fact, they actually are a semi-aquatic rodent. I know that fact alone might make some people squirm, but they're endearing in their way (and I intend to show you that, in time). 
They arrived and had just begun to eat when our bliss was cut short by several rounds of children who, as children (especially boys) do, wanted to grab them or screech with glee. To gain the trust of these birds you have to be a whisperer of sorts and I knew this wouldn't do. Then a pesky Nutria kept invading their space, hoping for some bread (normally reed eaters, park visitors have them carb addicted... but that's for a future post). It was all too much for the Lady G. and she chose to cut short our reunion. Though busy with another bite, once Mr. Goose realized she was paddling toward the center island, it was he who followed her.
to go back into his habitat. He hesitated at the 
My heart leapt though my mind tried to keep my feelings in check. Could it be him??? My eyes darted around to find the orange beaked goose (Because the orange beak's partner and Mr. Goose look so much alike, and thosse two new ones are never far apart). Test #1 passed -- he was solo. Then I squinted way across to where I'd been Saturday and made out what appeared to be two geese. Thankfully they're easy to spot by size. Then, as if the gods were patting me on the shoulder, at that very moment I heard the pair trumpet from that distance, and I knew I had Mr. Goose in front of me!
Sure enough he did, gliding slowly, raising his beak and trembling the way he always does.
Then he lowered his grand head and gobbled from my palm. Once he was that close I checked for his distinguishing marks -- a rim of yellow on his "eyelids" and a line of white where the ridge of his black knob meets his forehead. The new black beaked goose doesn't have those.
Oh Mr. Goose, Mr Goose! Isn't he glorious?
Had a meeting at the zoo this morning. The entrance is very close to where the geese hang out, so I bolted and checked for signs of at least Mr. Goose. He's still missing. It was high noon and one of the hottest days this year... but there were the new two, with their legs in the water keeping cool. The black beaked one even went to sleep standing in full sun so I can't say it was too hot for Mr. G. I don't know if he's flown away, or if Mrs. Goose has babies and he's in the center of the island somewhere helping take care of them. I've read male geese have strong paternal instincts (she said with hope hope hope).
See the darkish cove formed by that tree hanging low into the lake? That's where they usually are, if not on the shore in the picture at the top.
Yesterday I decided to go out in the morning this time, hoping that the hour would make a difference in the missing Mrs. Goose's schedule. Though my prior visits were midday and afternoon, it wasn't much cooler at 9:30 AM. The sunlight was such that I could, for the first time, see through all the dense underbrush on one side of the center island. I searched for signs of her even though I know their home is on the back, where the ground remained shrouded. No luck.
BIG ones, quite literally, attractively highlighted by dark black fur. This picture just does not capture it -- er, them --well enough but I wanted to leave the guy some dignity.
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