Tigers and Slingshots
I want to comment on the escaped tiger story. For those of you in other parts of the country, I know this appeared as sort of a generic "news of the weird" animal story, but out in San Francisco it's been on the front page all week. And I do a lot of thinking about animals in confinement now that I work for a company under Association of Zoos and Aquariums certification, and spend a good deal of time talking about sharks of the man-eating variety.
Some facts about the case: 1) The tiger's wall was 4 feet lower than AZA recommendations, though the zoo had passed AZA inspection. 2) One of the kids died, and the other two, who were brothers of ages 17 and 23, were mauled but survived. 3) At the time of the attack, the victims were found in possession of slingshots, and there was an empty vodka bottle found in their car. 4) The two brothers made a pact in the ambulance not to "tell anyone what [they'd] done."
It's a sad situation all around, but if I had to pick sides, my sympathies lie with the tiger. Shocking, I know. But it goes deeper than the "Darwin Awards" aspect of drunk kids shooting pebbles at a ferocious megapredator. My feelings have to do with my belief that dangerous animals have a right to exist and to be dangerous, and our relationship to them.
A zoo is supposed to be a place where humans can come into close proximity with animals in total safety; that's the source of the drama. After all, people are killed by tigers annually in India with less press attention. But there's a limit to how safe we can, or should, be. The safety standard is something we have imposed on the animals, not a mutual agreement. And the greatest danger is our sense of utter superiority over all other species, dangerous because, first of all, it's not entirely true, and second of all, it's true enough that we can annihilate these species with a feeling of total justification. Those two reasons work together. One wolf attack, and we have no regrets about killing all wolves. One tiger attack, and we demand both compensation and vengeance. (The tiger, Tatiana, was promptly killed.)
I have a problem with people so foolish as to think that they are totally safe, that our domination of everything else in the world is so complete. It leads to cruelty, as we witnessed with the tiger. And it shows a dangerous disconnect with nature. We start to think of tigers as props in some Las Vegas magic show... and look what happened in that case. That fear we had, as illiterate monkey-men in caves: we need that. We call it Fear of God, but it's really a fear of natural forces. Fear of retribution from forest spirits was what kept us from clear-cutting forests. When the Judeo-Christian idea of Dominion came and spread, we went about raping the earth, and there were dire consequences, as there still are today. And we are outraged whenever the forces of nature don't play by the rules we've set, defy our calendars and forecasts, jump their cage walls.
At the aquarium, whenever visitors come to the touchpools, the first question I'm asked is whether the sharks and rays will bite or sting. Internally, I'm amazed that anyone would think we'd put dangerous animals in a petting zoo. I'm amazed that people think all sharks are man-eaters and all rays are deadly as scorpions, and I have to work hard to dispel the mythology. But secretly, I'm glad that people still ask. I'm glad the respect is still there. And I'm glad that people still acknowledge that, though we have achieved much understanding of animals, we have not tamed the world entirely. Because if we tame it, I think it will be a short time before we destroy it, and ourselves with it.
Some facts about the case: 1) The tiger's wall was 4 feet lower than AZA recommendations, though the zoo had passed AZA inspection. 2) One of the kids died, and the other two, who were brothers of ages 17 and 23, were mauled but survived. 3) At the time of the attack, the victims were found in possession of slingshots, and there was an empty vodka bottle found in their car. 4) The two brothers made a pact in the ambulance not to "tell anyone what [they'd] done."
It's a sad situation all around, but if I had to pick sides, my sympathies lie with the tiger. Shocking, I know. But it goes deeper than the "Darwin Awards" aspect of drunk kids shooting pebbles at a ferocious megapredator. My feelings have to do with my belief that dangerous animals have a right to exist and to be dangerous, and our relationship to them.
A zoo is supposed to be a place where humans can come into close proximity with animals in total safety; that's the source of the drama. After all, people are killed by tigers annually in India with less press attention. But there's a limit to how safe we can, or should, be. The safety standard is something we have imposed on the animals, not a mutual agreement. And the greatest danger is our sense of utter superiority over all other species, dangerous because, first of all, it's not entirely true, and second of all, it's true enough that we can annihilate these species with a feeling of total justification. Those two reasons work together. One wolf attack, and we have no regrets about killing all wolves. One tiger attack, and we demand both compensation and vengeance. (The tiger, Tatiana, was promptly killed.)
I have a problem with people so foolish as to think that they are totally safe, that our domination of everything else in the world is so complete. It leads to cruelty, as we witnessed with the tiger. And it shows a dangerous disconnect with nature. We start to think of tigers as props in some Las Vegas magic show... and look what happened in that case. That fear we had, as illiterate monkey-men in caves: we need that. We call it Fear of God, but it's really a fear of natural forces. Fear of retribution from forest spirits was what kept us from clear-cutting forests. When the Judeo-Christian idea of Dominion came and spread, we went about raping the earth, and there were dire consequences, as there still are today. And we are outraged whenever the forces of nature don't play by the rules we've set, defy our calendars and forecasts, jump their cage walls.
At the aquarium, whenever visitors come to the touchpools, the first question I'm asked is whether the sharks and rays will bite or sting. Internally, I'm amazed that anyone would think we'd put dangerous animals in a petting zoo. I'm amazed that people think all sharks are man-eaters and all rays are deadly as scorpions, and I have to work hard to dispel the mythology. But secretly, I'm glad that people still ask. I'm glad the respect is still there. And I'm glad that people still acknowledge that, though we have achieved much understanding of animals, we have not tamed the world entirely. Because if we tame it, I think it will be a short time before we destroy it, and ourselves with it.