News From The Mews

Toward the end of my interview, I was still waiting for a hard-hitting question.  Two peer reviewers were visiting the Museum as part of a reaccreditation process through the American Alliance of Museums. During my scheduled time block with them, it was not the interrogation I imagined. We simply chatted casually about the daily care and training that I do with our live animals.  At the end I asked if they had any questions for me. One of the reviewers said, "I think that says it all." He indicated the sign I have posted above the whiteboard: The quality of our work is the quality of their lives. I truly believe this sentiment. Any time I think about cutting corners because I'm busy or tired, I realize that our animals deserve my best - even if it takes a little extra willpower some days - because the quality of their life depends on it.  It was meaningful to be recognized by the reviewer for this core belief that has shaped my work at the Museum.

I've always been a fan of artist Lili Chin, who specializes in animal drawings. She often works with animal trainers to create useful drawings of dog, cat, or bunny body language. What does a fearful dog look like? An overstimulated cat? A curious bun? She's got an illustration for it! See the full image here: Doggie Drawings by Lili Chin But what does happy snake look like? How can you tell if a snake is scared? I never learned snake body language other than hissing or striking means "stay away." Fortunately Lili recently published a guide to snake body language that shows much more nuance.  If Emory the rat snake has twitchy movements, an s-shaped neck, or tight coils around my arm, I know that she's starting to get uncomfortable. I should give her a break so she doesn't feel the need to escalate to hissing or striking. Being able to respond to her "whispers" of discomfort keeps me safe from bites and respects her feelings.

Shipping live worms can get expensive. Especially when we need a re-supply in the middle of winter when heat packs add to the shipping cost. That's why I decided to try raising my own mealworm colony this year. It has taken trial and error to figure out a system to keep worms and pupae safe from the voracious adult beetles.  This week I checked on a bin with a post-it note labeled "Teeny Mealworms, egg sifted 3/16/26." I was delighted to see hoards of little wiggling worms. At about two months old, the worms were finally big enough to feed to our tree frog! Yum!

I have very stressful memories of learning to make braided paracord jesses during one of my internships years ago. The process requires threading one piece of paracord through another. I learned to burn one end of the cord and push it through with a bent paperclip. Frustration ensued as it often took 10 or 20 attempts to pass it through completely. Luckily, I found a new tool that makes it much easier. The fid is a blunt needle made for weaving or lacing paracord. The fid holds onto one end of paracord and can smoothly guide it through the second piece of cord. Now this step of the jess-making process takes just 1 or 2 attempts. Whew! I learned that the Latin word fides means "trust." The root can be found in words like con fid ence or fid elity. I don't know if the paracord fid was named after  fides,  but I certainly feel like I can trust this piece of equipment to keep my frustration at bay.

  Digger peeks out of the humidity box after shedding her skin!

"Please drop the fur," I begged Aldo. It's breeding season and the American Kestrel seems more interested in showing off his food than eating it. Normally I don't mind if he holds on to his meal. But we had special guests visiting the Museum and I did not want Aldo meeting the Governor with a piece of half-gnawed mouse leg hanging from his mouth. Luckily he dropped the leftovers in his crate and we went outside to meet the group. Aldo was able to do what he does best - impress the audience with his tiny but mighty charisma - without a distracting rodent embellishment.