The Museum introduced live animals into its collection over 11 years ago. We are now home to 6 ambassador animals including raptors, snakes, and a frog. These critters came with a cost, including the necessary facilities, staff time required for care, and ongoing financial costs to provide what they need. There is also the ethical question of keeping wild animals in captivity. Why did the Museum take on the burden? Live animals seemed a perfect fit to fulfil our mission of " connecting people to Northwoods nature through educational experiences that inspire wonder, discovery, and responsibility ." Programs with these animals seem to do just that. During raptor programs or snake feedings, I have seen the wonder on audience members' faces, fielded fascinating questions from people wanting to discover more, and taught how we can help these animals in the wild. While my observations are useful to justify the live collections at the Museum, a study published recently looked at...
Rummaging through old files, I found a treasure: the notepad where I recorded my first training sessions with Carson the Red-tailed Hawk. When I first started at the Museum in 2016, I asked her to step on my glove (a behavior she had done with other trainers) and she ran away from me. We had such little trust that she wouldn't even eat in front of me. That was my first goal to overcome, highlighted at the top of the notepad: To get to that point, I started by leaving a piece of food on a perch, stepping out into the hallway, and waiting for her to eat it. Sometimes she ignored it and I took the food away after 3 minutes. After a few tries she started eating the food. On the third day, she was waiting for me at our training spot, eager to take food! Carson waited for me at our training spot in 2016. We started with the bar pretty low. Since I took the time to start our training with the very basics, Carson gained confidence quickly. Fast forwarding to 8 months later, I found ...
Aldo loves showing off his nest during the breeding season. When the kestrel hears me coming, he jumps down to the ground in the back corner of his mew. He trills excitedly, bowing. This behavior is rather inconvenient for me when I need to weigh him or take him out for a program. Since he's looking for attention in his nest, I remove his audience by stepping out of sight. I quietly wait in the hallway. I listen for the flutter of his wings to tell me he has flown back to a perch. Then I know it is safe to enter the mew and give him a treat. I didn't realize how much I rely on my ears during this morning routine until construction started on the library's new building next door. An excavator moving dirt is loud enough to drown out the subtle whisper of Aldo's wings in flight. I shift my strategy and shuffle down the hallway just enough to be able to see the perch through the window. I still remain quiet until I see Aldo appear, giving me the green light to enter the mew...
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