(no subject)
So I get a lot of questions about my job from people, which is understandable given where I work. Recently, over on one of my other sites, I started a little journal about the various aspects of my job and the things I encounter every day. I thought I might share it over here with you as well. Hopefully, I'll be posting more and more as time goes on...
The quail are a permanent feature of the Beginnings exhibit located by the front door of the museum. Every so often, we will get new eggs in the mail, place them in the incubator, and (hopefully) a few weeks later, we have hatched eggs and baby quail! These adorable little balls of fluff with legs are the first thing every visitor sees, and the last thing the kids say goodbye to on their way out the door. Eventually they grow up and are either sent to a breeder friend of ours or are sacrifice to the great and terrible Murphy the Mink. As Disney says, that is the circle of life.
Now, the quail and I have a curious relationship. I am currently one of 2 front-desk associates, and thus one of the more frequent faces these birds see. You would think that such frequent association would result in a beautiful friendship, but in reality, the old saying proves true: familiarity breeds contempt. Especially when the birds in question are Button Quail, a particularly cute yet fierce tiny bird. These birds are essentially flightless, yet somehow, every now and then, they manage to escape. During a routine cleaning and feeding, the birds are taken out of their exhibit and placed in a temporary animal carrier. Once the exhibit is clean, they are place back in with clean bedding, fresh water, and bountiful food. Does this appease them? Of course not. The quail feel the call of the wild and when they see the chance to run they seize it. They will wait until the top of the exhibit is cracked to allow the cleaner’s hand in and then…surprise! A ball of feathers and claws launches itself into the staff person’s face causing him or her to recoil in semi-fearful alarm. The other quail seize the moment to hover themselves out of the exhibit and make a run for it. Despite their inability to fly, these birds have tremendous running capabilities; once they hit the ground, they will manage to evade any and all potential quail-catchers for a good 20 minutes. Eventually, through the use of butterfly nets, decoy catchers, and several different sized chairs, the quail will be re-captured and thrust back into their exhibit with muttered curses and condemnations. The birds resume their cloistered existence, blissfully unaware that revisions are swiftly being made to Murphy’s diet of the next few days.
To anyone else, these little fluff balls may seem sweet and harmless, but the staff of CNM sees right through this cheery façade and into the plots beneath. I myself have suffered from nightmares featuring the malevolent birds and their seemingly innocent “cheep cheep” calls. This in turn has given rise to the warning of “Fear the Quail!”, a piece of advice I always solemnly offer to any new staff members or volunteers on their first day. They never believe me at first, being inclined to think that such small creatures could hardly be anything but harmless. They soon learn how wrong they are.
The quail are a permanent feature of the Beginnings exhibit located by the front door of the museum. Every so often, we will get new eggs in the mail, place them in the incubator, and (hopefully) a few weeks later, we have hatched eggs and baby quail! These adorable little balls of fluff with legs are the first thing every visitor sees, and the last thing the kids say goodbye to on their way out the door. Eventually they grow up and are either sent to a breeder friend of ours or are sacrifice to the great and terrible Murphy the Mink. As Disney says, that is the circle of life.
Now, the quail and I have a curious relationship. I am currently one of 2 front-desk associates, and thus one of the more frequent faces these birds see. You would think that such frequent association would result in a beautiful friendship, but in reality, the old saying proves true: familiarity breeds contempt. Especially when the birds in question are Button Quail, a particularly cute yet fierce tiny bird. These birds are essentially flightless, yet somehow, every now and then, they manage to escape. During a routine cleaning and feeding, the birds are taken out of their exhibit and placed in a temporary animal carrier. Once the exhibit is clean, they are place back in with clean bedding, fresh water, and bountiful food. Does this appease them? Of course not. The quail feel the call of the wild and when they see the chance to run they seize it. They will wait until the top of the exhibit is cracked to allow the cleaner’s hand in and then…surprise! A ball of feathers and claws launches itself into the staff person’s face causing him or her to recoil in semi-fearful alarm. The other quail seize the moment to hover themselves out of the exhibit and make a run for it. Despite their inability to fly, these birds have tremendous running capabilities; once they hit the ground, they will manage to evade any and all potential quail-catchers for a good 20 minutes. Eventually, through the use of butterfly nets, decoy catchers, and several different sized chairs, the quail will be re-captured and thrust back into their exhibit with muttered curses and condemnations. The birds resume their cloistered existence, blissfully unaware that revisions are swiftly being made to Murphy’s diet of the next few days.
To anyone else, these little fluff balls may seem sweet and harmless, but the staff of CNM sees right through this cheery façade and into the plots beneath. I myself have suffered from nightmares featuring the malevolent birds and their seemingly innocent “cheep cheep” calls. This in turn has given rise to the warning of “Fear the Quail!”, a piece of advice I always solemnly offer to any new staff members or volunteers on their first day. They never believe me at first, being inclined to think that such small creatures could hardly be anything but harmless. They soon learn how wrong they are.