|
Over the years, I have done my best to share with you insights about the Zoo, sometimes in personal letters like this. I have, in many difficult times, felt comforted by the support our community has shown me personally, and to the Zoo and our team here professionally. These events have ranged from animal deaths to hail storms to fires and a global pandemic.
We have a set of core values here that we call the “We Believe” statements. One of them says, “We believe people want to make a positive difference in the world and we will do our best to equip them with the tools and information they need to do so: telling the truth the best we know it.” A second one says, “We believe in a workplace where we live the behaviors we wish to see, creating our own reality one small decision at a time.”
On Sunday, we lost one of several people’s favorite giraffe, Mashama – an actual giraffe trailblazer. You know his story because, in our normal fashion of complete transparency, we told you his story. One point we shared was that 40% of our herd is at, approaching or beyond the median life expectancy for giraffe in human care. Our record on care here is clear. We normally far exceed that norm and we hope you see the professional excellence we are relentlessly pursuing. If that was the end of the Mashama story, I would not feel compelled to share deeper insight into his situation as we learned more and to prepare you for at least two upcoming situations.
When I said we will tell the truth the best we know it, we are serious. Before I tell you that we are likely to lose two other large animals due to age very soon, I want to show you that we build trust by trusting you to understand and accept complicated information as it evolves.
When Mashama passed, we shared that he was older and had some ‘off days’ recently. While Mashama was older and was showing signs of decline due to age, we found out since sharing his passing that the medical cause of death was something the veterinary profession calls “hardware disease.” In layman’s terms, that means he ate something that caused internal problems resulting in an infection. It's worth noting here that we almost never get cause-of-death results this quickly. Since we had just told the story of his death and now that we know the exact cause of death, I felt compelled to share it with you to show that we do tell the truth the best we know it and we live the behaviors we want to see in the world. I bet we can all agree the world needs more truthtelling and more people willing to trust each other.
This might be similar to a situation with aging parents or grandparents. Their cause of death could have been the result of a fall or an accident, but the reality is they were still near the end of their life. Did they die from complications around age or from the fall? Or think of how many of us have found out our dog, or our cat or our kids ate something they should not have eaten.
In Mashama’s case, it was literally a needle in a haystack – a 2.76-inch long, needle-thin piece of wire. Two things are worth pointing out. First, it is a normal part of a keeper’s daily routine to look in every exhibit for things that can endanger the animals they love. This includes sweeping the exhibits with a magnet if they have concerns about metal. The second is that even if we had somehow known he ingested this tiny piece of wire (routine x-rays would not likely have revealed the tiny wire in his massive body), we would not have surgically intervened because the risk of a surgery would be too great. I hope you can see this is just a small example of the challenges of caring for nearly 1,000 live animals – animals who become our friends and yours. Sometimes it is hard to accept that none of us are getting out of this thing called life alive, so we better set off in a direction that allows us to create a life worth living – and one that allows us to experience all the joys that often come with risk. We aim to create lives like that for our animals.
There is no conceivable way, unless we revert to concrete cages that are cleaned and sterilized every day, that we can protect our animals from every risk. Nor would I want to protect them from every risk. As we know, much of the joy in life comes as a result of risk. Just imagine the risk we take every day while driving. In the human world of adult disability caretaking, some people even have a name for it. They call it ‘dignity of risk.’ Just before I came to the Zoo, the profession didn’t want natural substrate in certain animal areas for fear of disease, harmful organisms and other unknown risks. In this particular case, that tiny piece of wire could have come from their hay, the soil or many other plausible places. The benefits of giving animals natural flooring and natural food sources far outweigh the potential risks that come with them.
Now that you have a little insight into what I have been doing and learning for the last 48 hours, let me help you and I look into the future for a minute. We have a female giraffe named Muziki. She is 27 years old – three weeks shy of her 28th birthday. She’s the eldest giraffe in our herd and the fifth eldest in human care in the U.S. She is losing bone density and weight to a point where we know her last best day is coming soon – and possibly as soon as tomorrow. We are working on making her last days as comfortable and fulfilling as possible. Just today, 11 people ranging from the head veterinarian, to her daily caregivers, to myself met in an hour-long meeting to strategize on the last days of Muziki’s life. If people knew the extent to which we care for these amazing animals, they would certainly not question our commitment. If anything they might think we go too far, but where would you stop for the animals you care for? It's a blurry line at best.
Muziki will be our fourth giraffe loss since April 2025 – all of which were approaching, at or well beyond the median life expectancy. In my experience, there are seasons of loss like this. The timing is similar, their ages are similar, they live in the same Zoo and they’re the same species. I can understand how some might draw critical conclusions.
The problem with looking at our herd through the narrow lens of how many giraffe have died “recently” is that it does not tell the complete story. The real story is something like this. We have a big giraffe habitat, and in the past have had around 18 giraffe here. Giraffe have a combined median life expectancy of 18 (the median life expectancy for males in human care is 16; the median life expectancy for females is 20).
This means we are going to lose giraffe regularly. Especially if there are many giraffe near the same age, like in our case. The second challenge is that giraffe pregnancies last 14 to 15 months. They have long gestation periods, so it can be harder to see that we are making decisions today that will not have observable results until sometime in 2027. And the cycle goes around and around. We have not had a calf born at the Zoo for three years for various reasons. Yet, it is conceivable that we could have two to four giraffe calves born within a year of opening the new Giraffe Center. If you project ahead 18 years from now, those four giraffe will be reaching the age of concern near the same time, so the cycle continues and we brace ourselves for another season of loss.
Finally, it is no secret that all of our elephants are older because 20 years ago we made a choice to build a home for older African female elephants. For example, Missy is the second oldest female African elephant in human care in the country, according to the Association of Zoos and Aquariums. Literally, while in the midst of learning about Mashama and then Muziki, I got word that Missy was not doing well. For me, it was an ever present reminder that all of our elephants’ lives are also coming to an end. For Missy, we don’t know when, but we have seen her slowing down and losing weight, and we have been making adjustments to support her through the end of her life comfortably. The other girls also have their own challenges.
Elephants only get six sets of teeth in their lives. Their teeth wear down over time and a replacement set grows in. Because of Missy’s advanced age, she is on her last set. For the last two-and-a-half years, her team has shredded her food into easier-to-chew bites with a special shredder for hay. That’s just one example of the lengths her team is going to to keep her comfortable and fulfilled. She’s still having more good days than bad days, but those bad days are happening more than they used to.
Of course, the timing for Missy is still unknown and she could live for years or months or days. When she came to us 11 years ago, we thought she'd only be with us for a short time. She showed us all how strong she is. You might remember that in spring 2022, I wrote a similar letter to you about another elephant, Malaika. In that letter, I told you she was a fighter. She lived until May 2023. She was our first elephant death in the 30 years I have been at the Zoo, and I shared that letter with the same intent that I share this one – to help you understand and prepare.
I hate to think, but during my time, I have been a part of the passing of hundreds of animals. Many, you knew by name and many we told in depth stories about. I was here again on Sunday with Mashama, along with a huge team, making sure we could get him out of the barn without alarming the rest of the herd, allowing them time to say goodbye and allowing the keepers time to say goodbye. Over the years, there have been deaths from old age, unexplained deaths, tragic events and some that you could make a case that were a direct result of a human mistake. Each time, we try to find that fuzzy line between sharing so much sad information about the deaths we see as part of our life-long animal care, and sharing the joy we feel every day working with these amazing creatures.
Only yesterday, I went out to see our wallabies and maybe get a little love after a hard day. One sat two feet from the sidewalk. I reached out to allow her to smell my hand. She did. I reached out to touch her and she said no, by turning her head. I did not chase her; she did not run. I did not even make a step off the sidewalk. I was not upset with her. I was not offended by her and didn’t think she didn’t like me. I just understood that today, she chose to have me just look at her from the path, and that’s okay.
This is every day at the Zoo. We are listening the best we can to our animals. They have a say in their lives and those choices we provide have risks that we have to accept. I can only hope that you will continue to trust us, as we trust you, with information that is not always simple. As I retire from the Zoo in June, I know that the Zoo is in a good place, and in good hands and we will keep earning your trust in these difficult times. Thanks for listening.
Warmly,
Bob
| 
