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Cage of innocence
Zookeepers are passionate about
education and conservation
by
K aty D avidson
¡I don’t really like zoos.
A s a staunch vegetarian and an advocate
for a wild and free earth, I have boycotted
the Oregon Zoo for the five years 1 have
lived in Portland. Even as a girl growing up in
the desert near Phoenix, I seldom entered the
city zoo’s gates, preferring instead to commune
with the array of weird creatures found right
outside my front door.
However, two weeks ago, 1 swallowed my
reluctance and set off to the Oregon Zoo to
meet two lesbian zookeepers and visit the
newly erected Steller Cove, a cutting-edge
exhibit that simulates a Northwest coastal
habitat. Steller Cove is unique because most
exhibits like it are built on the coast, not as far
inland as Portland.
The habitat, which cost a cool $12 million
to create, is named for the two large Steller sea
lions that now frolic in gallons upon gallons of
fake ocean water. (In a large filtration room,
machines recycle water, then mix the fresh
water with a product called “Instant Ocean”
and run it back in to the animals’ tanks.)
Because of the tremendous amount of
money and effort required to bring the project
to life, some zookeepers originally resisted
Steller Cove. However, as construction began,
they decided if the structure was to go ahead,
they might as well have some say in its design.
Pushing aside my views on captivity, I found
the exhibit to be fairly fascinating.
Zoo visitors are able to watch as the two
enormous sea lions, Stella and Julius, glide
gracefully through their tank. From the viewing
area above, the animals look like slick brown
bowling pins. From behind the huge window in
£
an underwater
grotto, I’m able to
catch a more personal
glimpse of the sea lions;
they look like wise, stoic, over
sized dogs with flippers.
“I moved to Oregon because of the sea
lions," says JoEllen Marshall, one of the current
overseers of Steller Cove.
Marshall didn’t set out to become a
zookeeper right away. She got her undergradu
ate degree in Asian studies, then became a
high school teacher. From there, she began
teaching sign language to a group of 40 chim
panzees, then went back to school to study
zoology.
Although Steller Cove only has been
around for a month and a half, Marshall
already looks at home in the facility. As I fol
low her through the behind-the-scenes area,
she shows me the kitchen, where a daily deliv
ery of fresh herring, mackerel, squid and clams
is stored for the sea lions. She holds up a self
explanatory “fish-cicle,” one of the sea lions’
favorite treats.
Next, we enter the quarantine area, a humid
room with several aquariums full of sea life.
Marshall explains that all the newly arrived
creatures must live in this room before entering
the permanent tanks, ensuring diseases don’t
spread among the animals on display.
“My favorite are the Grunts,” Marshall
explains, fondly pointing out a tank full of
small, lopsided creatures. “They’re all head and
no body.”
After leaving the quarantine room, these
smaller animals move to either a simulated tide
pool or a kelp forest.
To me, the most surprising element of
Steller Cove is the extensiveness of its educa
tional display, where visitors may examine labo
ratory information, interact with a CD-ROM
and learn more about the endangerment of the
sea lions.
Later, I meet with zookeeper Melissa
Arnold, who defends the zoo’s position as a
tool in society. “Zoos don’t go out and catch
animals in the wild— they’re bred in captivity,"
she says. “The zoo’s position is education.”
I listen carefully. She highlights the zoo’s
extensive conservation efforts and says people can
visit animals in the zoo, learn about their endan-
germent in the wild, then take
steps to preserve them. “These
animals are the ambassadors to
their wild cousins,” she says.
Unlike Marshall, Arnold
knew she wanted to work with
animals since she was a child
growing up on a farm in New
Hampshire. She graduated with a
zoology degree and first was turned on
to sea life— namely penguins— when she
worked at Sea World in San Diego.
Arnold, who moved to Portland 10
years ago, now is a roving zookeeper specializing
in carnivores such as polar bears, leopards and
wolves.
One particular carnivore recently reminded
her how strong the bond between humans and
animals can be. Arnold, who admits she is
drawn to unique animals, spent the past several
years cultivating a friendly relationship with a
Siberian tiger named Czar.
She used to schmooze with him by telling
him to “get his log”— to scratch it. She thinks
he reacted positively to her presence because
he originally was raised by a woman and was
soothed by a softer voice and touch.
Last fall, Czar was diagnosed with cancer, a
disease most wild tigers don’t get because they
don’t live as long as those in captivity. He
underwent four chemotherapy treatments for
pain management at a local hospital, but he
began to eat less and less because of a tumor on
the roof of his mouth.
As Czar’s conditioned worsened, he eventu
ally only allowed two zookeepers to feed him:
Arnold and Diana Bratton. “He chose who he
wanted to have working with him," she says.
Czar was euthanized in early August.
Almost a month later, Arnold still gets choked
up when she mentions him. She shows me the
viewing area where zoo visitors have written
special notes to Czar on slips of paper and
attached them to tree branches.
Arnold’s note is the only one that hangs
inside the cage. It reads, “Get your log...Good
boy! Thanks for all the schmoozin s n
Creature comforts
Longtime activist resents the oppression of animals
by
D
K aty D avidson
on’t tell a 69-year-old gay man he doesn’t
know about oppression.
Roger Troen, as usual, is on a mission
to do the world some greater good, and
it’s not necessarily for the sake of his fellow
gays— it’s for animals.
Troen, who started out as a gay activist in
Portland during the 1970s, now publishes a
quarterly political newsletter called The PDX
Animal Advocate. The most recent
edition includes information about the mis
treatment of captive elephants, several argu
ments against meat- and dairy-based diets,
updates on protest whereabouts and a
hopeful poem titled “The Captive’s Dream."
To Troen, the link between the oppression
of gays and the oppression of animals is obvi
ous. That’s why he also is trying to make some
changes at the Metropolitan Community
Church of Portland.
Troen attends the church regularly and
always has been inspired by its philosophy of
openness. “The words they speak at that
church are so wonderful and inclusive," he
says, “hut they don’t include animals.”
Every Sunday, for example, the congregation
lights a wellness and liberation candle for people
who have overcome struggle in their lives, then
the Rev. Roy Cole invites everyone to say some
words on the subject. When Troen gets the
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