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Jennings Center for Zoological Medicine

7

Our Oldest Flamingo Female

By
Athena Wilson
– June 29, 2011Posted in: Animal Stories, Animals and Plants, Birds, Uncategorized

30 Black Left.

In my last post (Happy Birthday, Flamingos!), I mentioned that our oldest female Caribbean flamingo, 30 Black Left, has a unique story. (Remember, we refer to the flamingos by their ID band’s number, color, and placement on the leg.) She hatched right here at the San Diego Zoo on June 23, 1959, making her 52 years old. Her reproductive history is a little unclear prior to 2005, but I can tell you something that makes her extra special, besides being the oldest female—almost every year she lays the first egg of the season!  The exceptions are in 2007, when she laid the third egg of the season (but it was the first to hatch a chick that year!), and in 2008, and I’ll tell you why in just a bit.

 

Since 2005, she has parented six chicks with the same male (26 White Right). This male is only 19 years old; he hatched at SeaWorld San Diego on June 1, 1992, and came to us in 1994. As with the oldest male in our flock (4 Green Right), they have one offspring who was hand raised and is currently residing in the Zoo’s Urban Jungle. If you participate in our Backstage Pass adventure and get to hand feed the flamingos, look for 246 White Right; he is their son, hatched in 2009. 30 Black Left and her mate are also internationally represented, having both their chicks from 2006 and 2007 shipped to the Emperor Valley Zoo in Trinidad in early March. Currently, they are incubating their second egg of the season. 30 Black Left laid the first egg of the season again this year, but it was not viable. The egg they are incubating now is due to hatch between July 7 and July 11. Fingers crossed that this one will hatch!

Now, why she wasn’t with 26 White Right in 2008? Early February of that year, the entire flock was moved to the Zoo’s Jennings Center for Zoological Medicine while we had some exhibit maintenance done. During that hospital stay, 26 White Right sustained an injury to his trachea that would require surgery, a tracheal resection. Having a world-class veterinary staff, we were not worried. However, this meant that he would have to stay at the hospital and recover while the rest of the flock returned to their newly renovated exhibit.

30 Black Left holds her own with the kids!

With breeding season quickly approaching, I became nervous that he would not be back in time for the pair to have their “first egg of the season!” All the while, a young male not even three years old started showing interest in 30 Black Left. Surprisingly, she did not refuse his advances. Then again, how could she have realized that her beloved mate would return? As far as she knew, he was gone.  And even though flamingos are usually monogamous, if something happens to their mate, they will quickly form a new bond so as to not miss a breeding opportunity. I was saddened by what was happening, but had not lost hope. 26 White Right returned to the exhibit on April 1, 2008—just 12 days after his surgery! After his release, I was sure that 30 Black Left would break the bond with the young male and return to her old mate. But wait—she didn’t even seem to recognize him!

Was his vocalization different due to the surgery and that was why she didn’t seem to know who he was? She ended up laying the second egg of the season soon thereafter; it was infertile, likely the result of the male being so young. Flamingos typically reach reproductive maturity between three and five years of age, and it usually takes a few tries before they are successful. Without any other choice, and in order to not miss a breeding opportunity, 26 White Right bonded with a new female. They had an egg together, but it did not hatch. It seemed that the bond between 30 Black Left and 26 White Right was broken forever, and this broke my heart—a pair I had seen so tightly bonded since I started working with the flock in 2006 was no more.

When the breeding season ended in 2008, since neither newly bonded pair had hatched an egg, they were free to roam about the exhibit since they did not have chick-rearing responsibilities. I started noticing that 30 Black Left and 26 White Right were spending time together again. With each day that passed, their bond seemed to get stronger until they appeared to be back to their old behaviors; they were almost never apart. During the breeding season of 2009, they were definitely back together again, and she laid the first egg of the season. I was so thrilled! How amazing is nature? And how awesome to have witnessed the strength of a bond between two very special birds?! They’ve been inseparable ever since.

Athena Wilson is a senior keeper at the San Diego Zoo.

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7

Zoo Hospital: The Importance of Poop

By
Kirstin Clapham
– June 14, 2011Posted in: Animal Stories, Animals and Plants, Birds, Uncategorized

How do our intrepid hospital keepers obtain a fecal sample from a Costa's hummingbird?

Hey, Hospital Keepers! Guess what’s coming into quarantine?

Those are always fun words to hear, adding to the surprise element, never-the-same-day-twice, kind-of-like-Christmas aspect of my job. It is always exciting to meet new animals. And I take pride in the fact that, as hospital keepers, we get a “sneak peek” at every animal before it makes its debut at the San Diego Zoo. Whenever there is a new animal that comes into our collection, it must be isolated, monitored, and tested at the San Diego Zoo’s Jennings Center for Zoological Medicine for a designated quarantine period. This required time is usually 30 days but can sometimes be longer, depending on the circumstances.

There are so many things that go on during this time that I could share with you. But what I’m going to write about this time is poop.

Yes, you read that right. While an animal is in quarantine, three fecal samples (one week apart) are collected and submitted for evaluation. A small sample speaks volumes! We need to make sure our new additions are not harboring any “bugs” that might compromise their health or be shared with their future exhibit mates or keepers. Fecal collection is a fairly noninvasive process for keepers and animals, just another part of our daily cleaning routine: pick it up, put it in a cup, and send it to the lab. It has to be clean—not on the dirt or in a puddle—and the fresher the better. Yes, you read that right, too! For birds, we sometimes place a large sheet of wax paper under their favorite perch or poop spot to capture the sometimes illusive, minuscule droppings.

You might be thinking, “How does one get a decent fecal sample from a hummingbird?” Good question! We have mastered the technique of draping a sheet of wax paper under the hummingbird’s cage and securing all four corners with a paper clip “hook,” trying to cover the entire area, especially under the perches. But beware of leaky nectar bottles, since those drops ruin your chances of getting a worthy sample. And I’ll have you know it might take an entire day (or two) to accumulate enough material from a hummingbird just to see with the bare eye, let alone to scrape up enough to put into a cup.

Other animals, usually hoofed ones, come to us in a group, and we have to make sure that we know exactly which “gems” came from which individual. This is one of those parts of the job that you either like or you don’t. It can be a very time-consuming challenge, because as you know, “a watched pot never boils,” or, in some cases, a watched gazelle never poops. I try to be casual, just standing off to the side watching the back ends while all the front ends are watching me. Another strategy is to come around every hour or so, get their attention, get them walking, get things moving. I personally feel that I have a better chance of getting a good sample when the animal is lying down when I arrive and then gets up when I open the door. They usually stretch, look at me, and walk away while pooping. Jackpot!

Sometimes this can backfire, no pun intended, because I might get more than just the one animal I need to collect from to stand up, stretch, and walk around defecating. “Oh no, no no no, please stop.” This is when our super-keeper observation skills come in handy. As soon as the much-needed “gems” have hit the floor, we make a mental note of the individual animal’s I.D. and take a mental picture of the precious pile and its location. It is difficult not to be distracted by the other, ever-multiplying gems, so we just hope we can pop in there and collect the sample without disturbing anyone or the pile. To add to the challenge, if it is not safe to be in with the animal, either because they are too scared or they are too scary, we’ve got to move them to another space first. “Clock is ticking, people! There is a perfect little pile in there that needs to be submitted, and I’ve got to get my hands on it before someone walks through it or adds to it.”

Getting a much-needed fecal sample is something to celebrate. Once our clinical laboratory technicians get their hands on the goods, look at it under a microscope, and send us the thumbs up sign, we know the animal is one step closer to being out of quarantine and released to Zoo grounds. It’s the little things, and sometimes the really little things, that can make a keeper’s day here on Hospital Hill.

Kirstin Clapham is a senior hospital keeper at the San Diego Zoo. Read her previous post, Zoo Hospital: Take Your Medicine.

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12

Zoo Hospital: Take Your Medicine

By
Kirstin Clapham
– June 1, 2011Posted in: Animal Stories, Animals and Plants, Apes and Monkeys, Uncategorized

A white-face saki carefully examines an apple slice.

“Hey, hospital keepers, can you please try to get this animal to take this medication?”

“Med compliance” is one of the most challenging things a keeper encounters at the San Diego Zoo’s Jennings Center for Zoological Medicine. Fortunately, we have a few tricks up our sleeves to get our patients to take their medication voluntarily on food, keeping us from having to grab, restrain, and dose them appropriately, which can be stressful for everyone. During their stay at the hospital we’d like the animals to rest and relax, eat and drink, sleep and heal. When you’re not feeling well, do you feel like eating?

Keepers constantly observe their animals, noting such things as behavior, sleeping habits, and favorite diet items. It is very handy to know an animal’s favorite food just in case we need to sneak some necessary medicine into their diet. More often than not, whether at the hospital or on grounds, the animal will ingest its medication without batting an eye, and everyone is happy.

A less-than-hearty appetite is a problem we sometimes run across up here on Hospital Hill. When keepers are not confident in the animal’s intake, i.e. the animal is eating just a little bit of its diet, or it’s eating around its meds, or having meds on a small part of its food has stopped the animal from eating any part of its diet entirely, then one of our registered veterinary technicians is called in to treat the patient directly.

It is a known fact that some primates can be especially finicky about how their food is presented. When a diet sheet states “leafeater biscuit and root vegetable,” most primates are happy to eat the biscuits (whether dry or sprinkled with water) and the roots (whether carrot or yam, sliced or diced, steamed or raw) separately. But there are those times when the regular diet isn’t good enough. We, the hospital keepers, now face the challenge of finding just the right combination that will be accepted so the primate will start taking its medicine and/or just start eating better. No pressure, right?

One of our tricks is to soak the biscuits to the point where they are almost mush, and yams are steamed, peeled, and mashed. These two ingredients are mixed together to form “yam balls,” which are usually a huge hit. Keepers pull out all the stops, though, to satisfy the requests of even the pickiest of picky eaters: just the right amount of biscuits, with just the right amount of liquid, with just the right amount of steamed yam (not too firm, not too mushy), and sometimes with just the right amount of a secret ingredient (which might be a dollop of applesauce or a piece of smashed banana or…) mixed together and then formed into just the right “meatball-sized” yam ball.

The culinary creation is then presented to the primate. The keeper holds his or her breath and waits anxiously to see if all the effort will be appreciated. Sometimes I use reverse psychology and say, “I don’t care if you eat that” and walk away. The primate will then pick up one of the delicacies with two suspicious fingers, stare at it a bit, and then will either drop it (or throw it) on the ground OR, more often than not, pop it into its mouth with satisfaction. The keeper then exhales and moves on to feeding the next persnickety primate, relieved and proud of a “battle” won and a job well done.

Kirstin Clapham is a senior hospital keeper at the San Diego Zoo.

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