There is something about zoos that is at once inherently
sad, yet touches on our most basic curiosities. For many people, a captive
environment is the only place they will get an up-close view of certain animals.
It gives us a glimpse of their otherwise mysterious behavior, sounds, and activities
– bewildering, endearing, dangerous, intelligent.
A tapir’s searching snout, the rambunctiousness of baby
raccoons. Jaguars stretching in enlarged mimicry of the average housecat, the
familial resemblance in the depth of primate eyes, the familiar fingers. The
elegant span of a peacock tail, a toucan’s splendid multi-colored beak, iguanas
lounging in streams of sunlight. Without seeing this beauty, would we have the
desire to preserve it, to ensure its continued existence? Would it be vital, or
merely background noise, the faraway cry of something disconnected from our selves?
Zoos educate visitors and can provide a sometimes necessary tool
for conservation, protection and propagation of species, provided that there is
adequate space and cleanliness, as well as proper treatment. But, when does our
innate curiosity and desire to help cross the line from conservation and
education into the realm of mere captivity and entertainment? What is
protection and conservation? How little space is too little, how many animal roommates
too many?
In El Valle’s Nispero Zoo, as in many zoos across the globe,
this fine line is walked. However, tucked away within the zoological property,
and funded in part by visitor admission fees to the zoo as a whole, resides a conservation
project absolutely essential to the survival of some of the country’s most
emblematic and endangered amphibian species.
The area surrounding Panama’s El Valle provides the habitat
for an astounding (but dwindling) variety of amphibians, including the national
symbol for conservation, Rana Dorada, or the Golden Frog. However, due to an
invasive fungus that has been wiping out the area frogs, the number of species
has dropped from 68 to 40 in recent years.
In an attempt to stem the losses, the fine folks at the El
Valle Amphibian Conservation Center have taken to rescuing infected frogs,
toads, and salamanders and treating them with an anti-fungal solution. This led
to the development of a clean room atmosphere in which to house the amphibians,
as well as an education and exhibition room, at least until some sort of
solution to the spreading fungus is discovered and the frogs can be released
back into their natural habitat.
Frogs, particularly the tropical variety, are infinitely
variable and fascinating. Such spectrum of color, from vibrant and dangerous to
subtle, earthy disguise. Massive, bulbous eyes and globular fingers and toes
hide within their environment, tucked away in leaves, blending in or providing
sharp contrast.
I, for one, am proud to visit the local exhibits, the fruit
of conservation efforts to protect native creatures. But, without the
surrounding zoo, and the ethical dilemmas that go hand-in-hand with a zoo’s
existence, would the conservation center remain afloat?
Without a simple answer, I will at least try to direct my
money in the way of conservation rather than entertainment, preservation rather
than exploitation. Because, should we deny our animal brethren a helping hand,
their entire future could be in peril.
