Rabbit Advocacy Animal Matters


Following the Paper Trail: Exposing the Trade of Exotic Animals
The Satya
Interview with Alan Green

Alan Green is a professional journalist who spent four years researching and writing the extraordinary book Animal Underworld: Inside America’s Black Market for Rare and Exotic Species published last year by PublicAffairs. Green recently spoke with Catherine Clyne explaining the intricacies of the animal trade—where they come from and where they end up.

How would you describe Animal Underworld to people who are not familiar with the book?
Animal Underworld is about the laundering of exotic species and I mean that almost in the way that drug money is laundered from one bank to another. What I learned and what I try to document in the book is that exotic species are moved from place to place to place. You can think of it as if they are relayed, being handed off from one person to another, kind of shunted through this pipeline in hopes of making them disappear. They start their lives in what we think of as legitimate institutions—such as zoos or university research laboratories—and when those animals are no longer necessary or wanted, when there are too many in the collection, those so-called "surplus" animals have to be moved out. And there’s a system that’s been developed to move those animals out and sell them, resell them, sell them again, move them on down the line; so ultimately the paper trail disappears and everyone along the line has deniability if it becomes known that an animal has ended up in a bad place.

If we see for example a canned hunt (or private hunting preserve) and someone shooting exotic animals in a cage; if we see animals ending up in a basement cage in horrendous conditions: everyone along the line can say "well those weren’t my animals," and in most cases no one will be able to prove where the animals came from. Animal Underworld is an attempt to document how those animals are indeed moved through a system—where they start their lives and where they end up—and to show with real paperwork how this kind of don’t-ask-don’t-tell system works and how everyone plays this game with a wink and a nod: "Here take my animal, move it along down the line," so that ultimately no one will be able to point a finger and say "Aha! You’re doing bad things with your animals!"

Can you give an example of a paper trail?
Papers must be filed, typically in the state Department of Agriculture, that chronicle the movement of animals from one state to another. Let’s say I run a roadside zoo in
Virginia, and I get animals in the spring and close in the fall because I’m a seasonal operation. If I want to send animals to an auction, say, in Ohio, I need to file paperwork with the Virginia Department of Agriculture that shows I’m sending those animals out of state. So there is a paper trail. The trick is to figure out whether people are indeed filing the required paperwork and then to find it all. What we find is that in perhaps 85 percent of cases people aren’t in fact filing those documents.

So animals are moved in the middle of the night—in trucks with no documentation—and people are selling animals behind the scenes (perhaps at an auction) so there’s no record of the transaction. But in at least some cases records do exist and I try to follow the trail from point A to B to C so that I can say with certainty: "Here’s where an animal started its life, here’s where it went to, here’s where it was sold, and here’s who was buying at those auctions." For the first time I’m able to reveal the system by which all these animals are being moved from place to place.

There are many levels of record keeping. They may be at different federal agencies, for example, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, state and local agencies, police agencies—it’s all a matter of getting and piecing them all together, hoping that you can figure out the truth about individual animals as they move during their lives from perhaps dozens of venues until, in many cases, a bad fate awaits them at the end of their lives.

Were you able to track the life of an individual animal?
When I set out to do this project, my hope was that I’d be able to chronicle the movement of one animal from its birth to its death. Through all the paperwork I collected I was actually able to do that in the case of a reindeer. He was born on a game farm in the Yukon in Canada, then sold at an exotic animal auction in Missouri, and was bought by an elderly couple who raised reindeer along with other animals on their game farm in Iowa.

The reindeer was named Honker by this couple. When the husband died, caring for the animals became too hard for his wife so she sold Honker and the other animals. She resold Honker at the same auction in
Missouri where he had been bought a few years earlier. Honker was bought by a game farmer in Wisconsin. Ten days later a client flew in from Indiana and shot Honker and, in the same day, shot two other animals—a white tailed deer and a mule deer. The records were falsified to make it look as if he shot three white tailed deer. Honker was then brought to a local taxidermist.

It turns out that the guy who shot Honker was an official supporter of Safari Club International, an organization that claims to abhor canned hunts because they don’t encourage fair-chase hunting. Ironically, Honker ended up as a trophy in this guy’s house in
Indiana. That was what happened. But finding the records, linking them to show that this was Honker was the proverbial needle in a haystack.

Do zoos have a role in the trade of exotic animals in the
If you look at the front-end of the pipeline through which animals are sent, zoos are indeed there. Zoos have been among the greatest providers of animals to the exotic animal trade. There are a huge number of tigers in private hands in the U.S. being bred like beagles by dealers who find ready places to sell them: That’s the legacy of zoos. They don’t sell tigers anymore because they know people are watching.

So now we are seeing other species on the market instead. Zoos have a huge so-called surplus problem. They have nowhere to send the surplus animals so they dump them on dealers who re-sell them. So zoos, even though they’ll dispute it, are in fact at the head end of the pipeline because they don’t want to breed responsibly and are always looking for new species to replace the ones that the public has grown tired of. Zoos are creating ready markets for new batches of animals that become big in the trade.

What do you mean by "breeding responsibly"?
Giraffes, for example, are a big pull at zoos. Zoos have what they refer to as "charismatic megafauna." These are the flagship species, the animals that are a great draw. People don’t go to the zoo to see the miniature hippo or the Père David’s deer. They go to see the panda and the giraffes and just about any kind of baby. Zoos are by and large a baby factory because that’s what brings people through the door.

Zoos have master plans for collections. A classic example is the National Zoo, which has determined as part of its master plan that they’ll have three giraffes: two adults—a male and a female—and one baby born every two years. Each time a baby giraffe is born every TV station in
Washington does a story, which in turn brings out the public in huge numbers. But with the new baby, there are now four giraffes because a baby was born two years earlier. All of a sudden that two year old giraffe is shunted to the background. Two years earlier an adoring public was standing there pointing at that spindly-legged baby giraffe, but now what are they going to do with it? The zoo will say "well we can’t keep it." If it’s a male, daddy is going to fight with it; if it’s a female, daddy is going to want to breed with it, so we better get that two year old out of here.

I would call that irresponsible breeding because the zoo knows that they will have to get rid of that giraffe and they know—because history tells them so—that there is no good place to send it. At any given moment, when they try to find a home for that unwanted giraffe, there are probably going to be 50 or so AZA [American Zoo and Aquarium Association—the self-regulating organization of accredited zoos] zoos that are also looking for a home for their unwanted giraffes. As an AZA accredited zoo they are saying: "We are a cut above. We are members of an elite club. We trust other members of this club to be good trading partners and so we can entrust our animals to these zoos with great comfort."

But there are a lot of giraffes in search of homes and very few zoos that are looking for them. Where are they going to send it? There are no takers. That means that they’re going to have to send a giraffe outside of the club. If only accredited AZA members are good guys, sending it outside the club more or less ensures that the standards you believe are notable will not be met.

This isn’t pure speculation. Early in the 1990s the National Zoo had a year old surplus giraffe named Michael whom they entrusted to a dealer who brought him to an unaccredited roadside zoo in central
New Jersey. Michael was paired with an adult male giraffe—the very scenario that the National Zoo wanted to avoid and the sort of thing they claim they will never do, because Michael would be threatened by daddy. The adult male kicked and broke Michael’s neck, and killed him.

So the AZA zoos shirk their responsibility. It’s expediency; we don’t want the animal, it’s not part of our master plan, let’s get rid of it, let’s send it to a dealer and cross our fingers that it never comes back to haunt us.

What would you say is the public’s involvement in the continuation of this trade of surplus animals?
I would say that by and large, the public is in total ignorance. When the public comes out to see a new-born, everyone is goo-goo eyed over the baby, and I admit there is a great allure about baby animals. Before I started doing this research I was just as ignorant. If one day, the zoo has six zebras and next time you go back there are five, who would know? No one counts. With the new babies, people never ask: "where did the other animals go?" because if you think about it, why should we?

We have entrusted people who work at the zoo to do right by us; they are the ones who care for the animals on a daily basis. When you go to the zoo everything at least looks good; you don’t see abuse. Concrete and steel are changing to what looks like a natural habitat. Certainly, fake trees are not the same as real trees in the wild, but the illusion is powerful and we feel comforted that they are trying to do right by the animals. If you talk to zoo keepers they do indeed care about the welfare of the animals and work hard to care for them.

If we ever ask the question "Hey mister, wasn’t there another giraffe here? Where did it go?", "It went to another zoo," "Well, OK, that sounds good enough to me." Most AZA zoos are municipally funded, certainly they are not taking our tax dollars and doing bad things, are they? So there’s a kind of trust going on. I would say that once the public finds out about this phenomenon, if they don’t take steps to force the zoos to change, then the public is equally culpable.

The whole exotic animal trade is like a pyramid. At the top there are a small number of institutions—for the most part reputable—that have a lot of animals that flow to the bottom, to auctions, dealers, canned hunts, roadside zoos, etc. If you cut off the flow from the top of the pyramid, from AZA zoos and universities, you can cut off the industry. If you cut off access to surplus animals, it will reverse the trickle-down effect.

The public can make that choice. If indeed the problem is that it’s a baby game and there is only room for a fixed number of species, will the public be willing to put up with a birth every four, six or eight years to ensure that the two year old doesn’t get sent to a bad place? Is the public willing to spend money for a retirement facility for animals that are off exhibit? Is the public going to decide they want some combination? "Well, we don’t want to pay more money, but we don’t want the animals sent to bad places." So are we willing to approve humane euthanasia to ensure that animals don’t go to dealers and possibly end up in bad situations? A lot of people can’t deal with the idea of euthanasia.

If zoos and other establishments are unwilling to change, the public should demand disclosure of where surplus animals are going. As a matter of public record, these institutions will be forced to disclose what they are doing. Once you embarrass these institutions by exposing their involvement in the trading of endangered animals—when they know that everyone is watching—they won’t be so cavalier.

What was the greatest shock and/or disappointment that you had while doing this project?
The most troubling revelation was that I realized that no matter who trumpets how much they care, they’re all in it together. That isn’t to say that all AZA members don’t care—some have taken steps to change. But all reputable zoos are doing business with disreputable zoos and dealers—which they ridicule. They are hypocrites. If you look at the pipeline, as the animals move further and further down there are any number of terrible places they can end up.

The greatest shock for me was to see how the animals become product or fodder. At the auctions, for example, it’s as if people are selling carpets. No one knows anything about the animals. They become nameless, walked anonymously through the display ring like replaceable cogs in money-making ventures. Everyone seems to be capitalizing.

Even those who own exotic pets think that what they’re doing is "good" for endangered species—chaining a tiger to a pipe in the basement. They think they’re conservationists. But these animals will never be repatriated into the wild and they’re not doing them any good. It’s a pet-of-the-month club that is fueled by American fickleness. We have not thought through the consequences.

Baby Lions for Sale!

The USDA, which enforces the federal Animal Welfare Act, has nearly 17 pages of regulations pertaining to the handling and transportation of dogs and cats, but the care of snow leopards and other wild animals is dismissed in just seven pages. And the exotic species are guaranteed much less protection: Domestic kittens, for example, can’t be sold in commerce until they’re two months old and fully weaned, but a day-old lion may be carted to an auction and sold to the highest bidder. What’s more, government prosecutors, as a rule, have virtually no interest in protecting these animals. Given a choice between pursuing a drug-trafficking case or an animal-permit violation, prosecutors rarely opt for the latter.—From Animal Underworld

Visions of Primates - The Satya Interview with Dale Peterson

 Dale Peterson is the author several books, including The Deluge and the Ark: A Journey into Primate Worlds (Houghton Mifflin, 1989), and co-author with Jane Goodall of Visions of Caliban: On Chimpanzees and People (University of Georgia Press, 2000). He is also editor of a two-volume autobiography of Goodall, An Autobiography in Letters (Houghton Mifflin, 2000), the first volume of which was published in April. He recently spoke with Catherine Clyne about how he became interested in primates and the crucial issues that they face in the wild.

What inspired you to write The Deluge and the Ark and to continue exploring primates with Jane Goodall in Visions of Caliban?
I received a Ph.D. in English and American literature in 1977. I didn’t want to be a teacher, so I became both a carpenter and soon gravitated toward writing about computers. In the mid-1980s I decided that I wanted to write about animals and conservation, because that’s what I cared about.

In 1984, I read about the endangered South American muriqui monkey. There were just a few hundred left in the world, in South America, although they used to be common. The last of the muriquis were in a patch of land in a forest in Brazil, which was owned by one man. He was going to retire and his sons had already said that they would cut down the forest when they inherited the land. At first I just tried to raise money to help save the forest, though eventually I volunteered my services as a writer. This offer wasn’t taken up. Instead I ended up writing my first book about endangered primates—
The Deluge and the

I started from zero not even knowing what a primate is. I did a glut of research, but at that point all I had was an encyclopedia of facts. I realized that I had to travel and actually see primates for myself. I started late in life; it was all a big adventure for me. Basically, I bought a plane ticket to Brazil and just dropped into a rainforest to look for primates, so it was totally self-taught. So The Deluge and the Ark became the story of my journey around the world, looking for the 12 most endangered primates and fitting them into a larger context of why so many primates in general—this wonderful group of perhaps 300 species—were endangered, and why some are so critically endangered that there are only a few handfuls left.

I discovered that the human population has increased five or six-fold in the last hundred years and so humans are basically taking over every possible habitat and either using it directly or just destroying it. Strange people in the States say that there isn’t a problem. These are people who are living in wealth and haven’t really looked at the rainforest in Brazil. But in other parts of the world you’ll see intense poverty and a conflict between human growth and the declining natural world.

I carefully selected the 12 primate species that I wrote about to represent geographical areas and specific problems. Chimps are endangered but I avoided them in this book; there’s so much written about them and so much to know, so it would take a full book just to cover them. But in the back of my mind, I thought that somebody should write a good book about them because there are some real problems that should be described. After writing The Deluge and the Ark I met Jane Goodall—a great hero of mine. We decided to do Visions of Caliban together. Again, here I was with no particular expertise on primates, working with a world expert. What could I contribute? In this case, with my literary background, I could think of chimps through Shakespeare’s The Tempest. I think it made the issue more attractive to people who were not themselves primatologists.

Why the keen interest in primates?
Primates are wonderfully poetic animals for me. It’s so spectacular to see them in the wild—a world of difference from seeing them in zoos. I’ve been privileged to see more primates in the wild than most people.

Apes are so close to humans—closer than we imagine. Seeing them in the wild you start to realize this; it breaks down the barrier of "us" vs. "them." They have the same emotions and perceptual world—so close to ours. In the wild, it’s not apparent right away. Then you begin to notice. Mothers have the same expression of adoration when they look at their baby, like a Madonna and child. Jane Goodall referred to them early on as "ladies and gents out there." She recognized that our usual distance from animals is a human construct.

What was one of the greatest moments that you experienced while doing these projects?
One of my greatest moments was seeing West African chimpanzees in the wild use stone tools. Suddenly they no longer look like animals. They keep these stones in their little workshop right beneath the nut trees. The stones are rare in the forest, especially ones of the right size, so they get used again and again and after a while they get very rounded and shaped. If you took them out of the forest and didn’t know that a chimp had used them, you’d think that it was some sort of human artifact—there’s no way to tell the difference. The chimps squat down, just as people would, and they hammer nuts with a stone until they crack open and they eat them. They do it very skillfully—it’s not easy cracking nuts open. It’s fascinating to see and to experience them in that way.

What was the greatest shock and/or disappointment?
Looking at the utterly devastating ecological destruction in parts of the Third World. You’ll go into an area that you know was recently tropical forest then—boom!—it’s just a wasteland, somebody cut it down and it’s gone. It’s the most shocking thing. Ten years earlier it was this gorgeous, rich and full place, and all of a sudden it’s just a desert with the hot sun beating down and that’s it. It’s devastating to see, particularly when you become aware of just how extensive it is.

What I find disappointing is the general indifference we have in the First World where we have the money to solve these problems. People that I know, that we all know, are more focused on—let’s say the bestseller list—all of the kinds of things that are utterly trivial navel gazing. It’s depressing to see that people are so shallow. Americans are no different from others, except that we have the wealth and the political clout to change things. But we just don’t seem to care enough. Human indifference is something that I find discouraging.

People are bombarded by bad news. It’s a natural human instinct to just stop listening to it. The big news is what doesn’t get put on the daily news. The big news is the big environmental things, the changes that are affecting us on a large scale and in very long-term ways, like the loss of species diversity. I’m almost voting for us to stop reading the daily trivia so we can figure out what the really important things are and worry about those.

What needs to change to cut down the rate of the extinction of primates in the wild?
The biggest issue is that somehow human population growth has to stabilize. Then we have to both reduce the total population and consolidate in some sense, which means preserving wilderness areas in spite of human demands. In order to reach this long-term picture, we need the political will and money. I get disturbed when I see philanthropists giving away great sums of money—they’re giving to good causes, of course, but it seems that every worthy cause in the world has to do only with people. I think that is short-sighted because people and animals are in the same boat and when the wilderness is gone, humans will be impoverished.

What purpose should zoos have, if any?
The weakness of the animal rights view is that it tends not to distinguish between nonhuman species—I think that’s a mistake because ultimately you are comparing a worm to a gorilla. When you look at zoos from an ethical/animal rights point of view, you have to have some sophistication about what animals are. One level would be to say that the apes—chimps, bonobos, gorillas and orangutans—are so close to humans that all four species have learned language in laboratories, are capable of recognizing themselves in mirrors, which means they have some sort of self recognition, and all four species are capable of real laughter and mirth. So those species have a special mentality that puts them, in my opinion, in a pretty special place. Basically I don’t think they should be in zoos. On the other hand, they are in zoos and zoos can provide the best possible captive environment; certainly they can provide something better than laboratories.

Whether zoos are doing the right thing, the answer is yes and no, and it depends on the zoo. I think mostly what zoos have to offer is education, and it’s there that zoos can make a big difference—they should be doing that both with their exhibits and obviously with their information presentations. But education is the "business" of zoos and by and large I don’t think that they are doing enough.

What comments do you have regarding the conservation role that zoos put forth as their mission?
Conservation? You might have seen a little bit of cringing about that in
Deluge and the
Ark. When I went to San Diego Zoo I saw this big sign about how zoos are "saving the world" and so on. They’re not. The captive breeding that goes on in zoos has been good in some cases, but it is not a serious aspect of the conservation of primates. Having said that, I certainly applaud captive breeding because it reduces the pressure to take animals out of the wild. And there’s something to be said for preserving the gene pool in captivity, but it’s so difficult and so rare to return endangered species to their habitats; the ones you can do it with best are birds and grazing animals and the occasional primate (the golden lion tamarin is one example). I’m certainly glad that we have a good population of bonobos in captivity because they’re so rare and extremely endangered and at least in the darkest moments, you can feel "well, even if they go extinct in the wild at least they exist somewhere." But really, after a generation or two—particularly with the intelligent social primates—it would be hard to imagine putting them back. It would be like taking a person into the woods and saying "now go be a caveman." It doesn’t really work that way.

What current projects are you working on?
I’ve just finished editing Jane Goodall’s family letters—many written by her while sitting in the forest, waiting for the chimps. They are extraordinary, not just because they are written by a historical figure but because they are utterly charming and engaging. She just wrote and wrote! She sometimes wrote letters every week, giving a wonderful series of precise snapshots of her life. I have about two million words worth so I put the best 10 percent into a two-volume autobiography called An Autobiography in Letters. The first volume, Africa in My Blood, was just released in April. I’m also writing her biography.

I’m also writing a book about bushmeat—wild animal meat. It’s a problem because people are now eating the apes who are highly endangered and could easily go extinct by the next generation.

Telling it Like it is: A View From a Former Zoo Staffer
By Richard H. Farinato

Primarily, zoos still serve to entertain the public, providing basic family amusement for their visitors. Despite the pronouncements of the AZA (American Zoo and Aquarium Association, the self-regulating organization of accredited zoos) about conservation, research, and education, there is little hard evidence to prove that zoos do any more than entertain.

There is one basic premise that must be taken into account when looking at the whole zoo issue. In the U.S., the Department of Agriculture licenses more than 1,800 exhibitors of wild animals. AZA-accredited facilities make up no more than 10 percent of this group. It is misleading to say that the relatively few AZA facilities represent the actual state of zoos in the U.S. Even within that 180-member group, the varying quality of exhibits and care is incredible and sometimes appalling. Accreditation by the AZA does not guarantee a consistent level of quality among zoos.

AZA and AZA-accredited zoos have held themselves up to the public as the norm, or the reality of zoos. This is far from the case. The norm is the underfunded municipal zoo, or the roadside attraction, or the private collection that is open to the public. The small handful of high-end zoos that may in fact engage in conservation programs benefiting wild animals in the field are not typical of American zoos; they are the rare exception. When you look closely at the actual participation of the majority of accredited zoos in "conservation", what you are likely to find are donations of crayons and coloring books or used reptile cages to zoos abroad, or sponsorship of keeper training courses. Such minor activities are then called cooperative efforts in conservation and education. Sounds great, doesn’t it?

Another highly touted conservation effort are the SSPs (Species Survival Programs). If a zoo simply exhibits surplus males or retired breeders of an SSP species, it is thereby said to be participating in the "conservation" of that species. It is situations like these that make people and organizations skeptical about the claims of the AZA and its member zoos. Much effort goes into marketing and public relations, for the purpose of laying a veneer of science and education on what is basically the business of buying, displaying, breeding, and selling exotic animals.

Zoos won’t Disappear, so...
Zoos are not going to disappear. The animals in them are not, in general, candidates for release, and in many cases there is no habitat to use as reintroduction areas. Zoos must become the centers of education about animals and their role in the environment that they claim to be. They must stop the frivolous production of animals that will later be unwanted by them and disposed of without a care. They should accept that some species (including marine mammals, polar bears, great apes and elephants) are unsuitable display animals whose physical and mental needs cannot be met in captivity, and fundamentally change the way those animals are kept. Zoos should make the commitment to phasing out their captive populations for display and redirecting their funds and expertise to the conservation of wild populations and their natural habitats.

It is only public pressure that will change zoos. Visitors need to focus on the bottom line issue of any zoo: animal care. Forget the hype about conservation, and the Christmas light extravaganza, and the boa constrictor at the birthday party at the zoo. Look at the animals. Are cages large enough for what lives in them? Do the elephants spend 16 hours a day in chains? Is the food of good quality? Does the staff show care and compassion? Look for the commonsense indicators of good care. If they’re not obvious, find out why. In many cases, zoos are tax-supported. They literally belong to the public, and the public can demand that their animals be treated correctly and humanely.

Richard H. Farinato is Director of the Captive Wildlife Protection Program of the Humane Society of the
United States. He is a former assistant zoo director and has extensive professional experience in the management of wild animals, including 15 years working in zoos. He now serves as a spokesperson for the protection of captive wildlife. For information visit www.hsus.org or call (301) 258-3150.

Zoos in Culture and Fiction - The Satya Interview with Randy Malamud

Randy Malamud is Professor of English at Georgia State University. He is author of several books, including The Language of Modernism (UMI, 1989) and Where the Words are Valid: T.S. Eliot's Communities of Drama (Greenwood, 1994). He recently spoke with Angela Starks about his latest book, Reading Zoos: Representations of Animals and Captivity (New York University Press, 1998).

What is Reading Zoos about?
My endeavor was to present different ways to look at what is going on with zoos, to think about it beyond just the status quo. I have two young kids and the field trip to the zoo is set on the school’s agenda every year. Kids have birthday parties at the zoo and so many people are going, and I think a lot of well-minded people are just not thinking about what it means. Zoos are very established in our culture and they are a very complex endeavor involving money and showmanship—the same paraphernalia that surrounds
Disneyworld, amusement parks or any other major cultural enterprise. I invoke an array of literary depictions of animals and zoos and I link these depictions to our culture in order to reveal what zoos say about us as people. I also touch on things like songs, cartoons and even advertising.

You start the book with the comment "I do not like zoos." What don’t you like about them?
There are so many things. The smells, the sight of the animals who are clearly unhappy and mangy and exhibiting stereotypic dysfunctional behavior. They always look sad to me. You see all those potentially beautiful and interesting species inside the bars; we’re slovenly and we’re gawking at them. It really makes me feel guilty about being a member of this empowered species on the planet. Why do we do this? I feel embarrassment, cultural awkwardness and historical guilt. Visits to the zoo seem like a sad and wrong way for so many people to be spending their afternoons.

How do you arrive at a perspective on zoos via a study of literature?
Any individual work of fiction or poetry is of course only one person’s point of view, so in Reading Zoos I bring together all of these different perspectives and show how a range of people are looking at zoos. With their aesthetic consciousness, the authors lay bare the underpinning of zoos; what they mean and how they work.

By far, the preponderance of literature that I studied does not romanticize zoos, they deconstruct them, they problematize them. Novels are not representative of the spectrum of human cultural behaviors at the zoo because most people are happy to go to zoos whereas most novels say that zoos are tawdry, scary, voyeuristic prisons.

In Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five, two characters are kidnapped by space aliens and put in a zoo where the aliens come to gawk at them, thinking "these are such pathetic creatures, we are so much better than them." They watch them making love and think that it’s weird and funny. The point that we get is that the aliens don’t really understand them; humans are not inherently as ridiculous and stupid as the aliens think we are. So you can carry this analogy further and say, well, we do the same thing with the animals that we put in zoos. There’s a lot of imperialistic braggadocio involved on the part of the people who manage to capture another species and put them in a cage. One of the achievements of that novel is to take us outside of ourselves. It encourages us to imagine what others would think of us, and how it reflects on the whole construct of zoos.

Throughout literature, the zoo is depicted as a really bad place to be and it’s the last thing that you would want to happen to you. So it surprises me that if there is such a common consciousness about this then why do we think the animals are any happier? Do we care?

Zoos are also used as depressing or violent images to represent human situations. Doesn’t this also say something about zoos?
Yes. For example, Sylvia Plath has a poem called "Zookeeper’s Wife" in which she uses the zoo scenario as a metaphor for her own distress; she is the caged animal and the zookeeper is her tormentor. She had visited the zoo and seen animals who were brutalized and ripped out of context and she obviously saw an appropriate symbol for her own pain.

The Zoo Story, a play by Edward Albee is not evidently about a zoo, but it’s called that because the protagonist comes on to the stage and says he’s just been to the zoo, then all this weird stuff happens. The other guy keeps asking what happened at the zoo and he never really answers, so we have to infer that he had a bad experience that has led him to behave very aggressively and dysfunctionally. The zoo is used that way in a lot of the works that I’ve studied. Authors don’t usually write whole novels about zoos; they are used as a means to an end because it’s such a rich, imagistic bundle of things. They tend to be very dark, depressing novels in which terrible things happens to animals and to people.

You say that although you sympathize with the animal rights perspective, what you are concerned with is what zoos say about people. What do you think zoos say about people?
I think they say that we are lazy, that we have this sense of entitlement, that we want to see all these animals but we don’t want to travel far to see them. We want them arranged for our convenience in the zoo. People seem to think that we have this right to rip up little pieces of the planet with animals and creatures and landscape and arrange them into this clearly sadistic, ugly cement and metal compound. We think of ourselves as enlightened, democratic Americans and that we would never have this imperialistic sense of entitlement.

When the zoo was invented in 1826, the British wanted to show themselves to be the master of the entire world and every animal from every corner of the world was gathered there in the heart of the Empire. I think Americans are doing the same kinds of things now. Zoos confirm that we have this cruel, heedless, imperialistic kind of attitude. This is what I mean when I say it embarrasses me to see these people walking around the zoo, standing in front of the cage.

Why do zoos represent what you describe as a "cultural danger"?
It’s really about the lack of ecological enlightenment. Zoos are always canny about giving the public what they want, shifting with the wind, positioning themselves to hook up with the latest fads and beliefs. One of the things zoos are doing very prominently now is saying that they are very "green" places, where you come to learn about your world and the other animals and ecological consciousness. What is dangerous about this is that when a person goes to the zoo, especially a child, they are getting exactly the opposite message of what they should be getting. The lesson we really need to learn is that we are very dangerous to the ecosystem. There are a lot of disturbing messages that we should be getting in order to reform our sensibilities. Instead, when people go to the zoo, the cultural lesson they get is: "just by coming to the zoo, you’re obviously so very interested in the animal world. You’re really doing good by paying your admission fee to help save these cute furry creatures." So it palliates people’s guilt—never mind that an ugly animal might be much more important to the ecological chain of events.

There’s a perverted Noah’s
Ark sensibility. The difference being that in the Genesis story the animals were protected for 40 days and then put back into their habitat, whereas here there’s no place to put them back. I think we appropriate a lot of this sort of Noah imagery: God is showing his favor on us by giving us all these animals and the wonderful technology and science to sustain these animals and to capture them and rip them out from wherever they belong in the world and bring them over here. I think that the danger of zoos has to do with the context in which we see them and the sense of entitlement we as Americans feel—that we deserve to have these animals, to see every animal in the world. We want to see a rhino and a panda bear and a giraffe, though the reality of these animals’ lives is that you would never ordinarily see them.

You also say that zoos represent a "deadening of our sensibilities."
I’ve read some 16th and 17th century accounts of explorers who travel half- way around the world to see a rhinoceros and it would be for them just the most amazing thing. They would write about it and other people would read about it and there was this sense of tremendous imaginative exuberance in the experience of this amazing animal that they had never seen before. I don’t think people have that anymore. They just think: "Rhino? Oh yeah, great. I already saw a rhino last month at the other zoo." And this is what I mean by culturally dull and deadening the sensibilities. Animals have this inherent essence that is drugged out of them when they are prisoners in a zoo and any potential appreciation for them is drugged out of people when we see the animals as lowly subaltern slaves—smelly prisoners with ratty hides who are chewing at their own body. The defense of zoos is always "well, otherwise my kid will never see a giraffe." They’re not seeing a giraffe, they’re not seeing an animal. People may half-heartedly attempt to look into the eyes of an animal, but in a few seconds they move on to the next cage, and meanwhile the animal is just stuck there.

In two novels—Turtle Diary by Russell Hoban and Setting Free the Bears by John Irving—the spectators go to the zoo and decide that the only ethical response to what they see as a horrific situation is to physically free the animals; to take the turtles back to the ocean and let the bears out of the cage. Although in real life that’s not literally or biologically realistic, as an idealistic, fictitious, extremist gesture it struck me as very inspirational. What those activist heroes are doing is freeing the animals within fiction. In a metaphoric equivalent, there are ways in which all of us can symbolically free the animals, basically by not going to zoos in the first place but also by imagining them free and getting used to not thinking of them in cages.

A Matter of Design - The Satya Interview with Lee Ehmke

Lee Ehmke is the Director of Facilities and Planning at the Bronx Zoo. Formerly an environmental law practitioner for the Sierra Club Legal Defense Fund, Ehmke turned his energies to study environmental design and, in 1988, joined the Bronx Zoo staff. Ehmke was lead designer and project manager of the "Congo Gorilla Forest" exhibit, which opened at the Zoo last year. He also serves as a consultant to parks and zoos abroad. Ehmke took time out to speak to Satya about his work and some philosophical zoo issues.

What is the general philosophy behind the design of the exhibits at the
Bronx Zoo?
The general philosophy behind the designs—here as in many other zoos—is to create spaces that serve the biological and psychological needs of the animals. At the same time we understand that zoos are for people; they introduce people to animals and get them to care about them. The animals are representatives of habitats and where they live in the wild.

What efforts are made to provide the animals with a sense of natural habitat?
In developing habitats there are two levels. Are we meeting the needs of the animals? How much room does an animal need? We have to take into account spatial relationships. Do they need vertical space to climb? Do they like or dislike water? Are they social or solitary animals?

The educational and interpretive level is for the public and creates an illusion of spaces being like their natural habitat. The animals don’t necessarily need things to look real—many of their needs can be satisfied without looking like the real thing. We do a lot of research on animals in nature to find out what they need. For example, in the Congo Rainforest exhibit there are 50-plus models of tree species. If we’d put in jungle gyms, it would be essentially the same thing to the animals.

How does education factor specifically into the exhibits?
Almost everything we do has two educational components. First is affective. The feeling of the space conveys the message that animals are part of a habitat. We want people to feel good. The second component is cognitive—we use every method we can think of. With the development of multimedia, there are more ways to deliver information, with graphics, things people can touch and be interactive with.

We keep messages short and to the point. Our emphasis is on children, many of whom come from the inner city. But demographically, our audience is mostly adults. We are aware that we have a diverse audience and that we need to layer information. So there’s a primary, simple message and then people who want to learn more can probe deeper. We don’t want the delivery mechanism to overwhelm people. In
Congo, for example, the graphic signage is kept to a minimum so that you get the feeling that you’re in the forest and it doesn’t take away from seeing the animals.

A study shows that people spend between 15 to 30 seconds in front of a display. Of course, people spend more time if there is more than one species or some activity, and if there are larger spaces people have to look longer to see the animals

Which animals are the most popular with visitors?
The gorillas of course. Also bears, sea lions and big cats. The Reptile House is most popular because it’s located in the center of the zoo and is the most heavily visited.

What is the one thing that you hope people will walk away with after looking at a display?
There isn’t just one thing that we hope people will think. "Isn’t that animal great or amazing or beautiful!" would be one thing. We want people to understand that animals and their habitat are inextricably linked, that you can’t have one without the other. If you’re going to have gorillas in the world, you need to have rainforests.

Could you tell us about the international projects that you are involved with?
In African urban centers, like
Nairobi and Entebbe, very few people have the ability to experience their native wildlife. They need money and cars to get to the game reserves and parks. In Nairobi there is a major park right outside the city. It’s like having Yellowstone National Park right outside New York City, but with almost no public access to it. There is an orphanage for abandoned animals nearby (kind of a roadside zoo) which was most popular with Kenyans because of its location. With the Nairobi Safari Walk, we created opportunities for people to walk into the park and see animals moving around. There are classrooms for children to learn about the environment and then see the animals. We are presenting to what is probably our most important audience, giving a chance for them to experience and appreciate their local wildlife. It’s the same thing with the Uganda Wildlife Center in Entebbe, which has been renovated.
Local grassroots support for wildlife conservation happens through awareness. Most people in
Africa haven’t ever seen a lion, for example; and for many people, their interaction with wildlife is negative [i.e., crop destruction or attacks]. These projects encourage positive interaction between local residents and their wildlife.

What purpose would you say zoos serve in general?
The basic role is to give people a positive, close-up encounter with animals, with education and ethics shaping their experience. Some zoos are overstating their activity with breeding programs. The real issues are the animals in the wild and the active management of endangered species. Another role zoos can serve is as a resource for breeding and research for possible reintroduction to the wild. The science is important—developing the knowledge base to be used for animal care and conservation. The reality is that most animals in the wild are in small enclaves surrounded by people. As a species we have inserted ourselves into every corner of the planet; our role as stewards is to manage and intervene in a positive way to make sure that species are maintained in the wild.

What would you say to people who feel that animals shouldn’t be kept captive at all, that no matter what efforts are made, they are still captive, which is an unnatural existence for wild animals? Do you sympathize with this point of view?
I sympathize to an extent. You could make an argument for individual animals. In a well-designed captive environment, an animal’s life in a zoo situation is easier and more comfortable—far less stressful, painful, short and brutish than in the wild. Most animals in the wild don’t die of old age. The idea of "free as a bird" is a misnomer because all animals are confined by natural restraints [i.e., human encroachment, water, desert, etc.].

I have great sympathy for animals that are mistreated and abused. A small number of zoos are members of the self-regulating AZA [American Zoo and Aquarium Association]. Most captive animal collections probably shouldn’t exist. I would support legislation to regulate them or phase them out of existence. It is unfortunate that that brush tars the good work that many zoos are doing. Ninety nine percent of people who work in zoos do so because they love animals and they work hard to alleviate negative conditions.

Do you consider yourself to be an animal advocate?
Sure, that’s what we do here. We advocate for animals as a species rather than as individuals. For example, our biggest concern would be "Will there be lions in the next 100 years?" rather than caring for one individual lion—looking at the bigger picture, a species as a whole.

Do you feel that there are any key issues that people are not "getting" when they criticize zoos?
Some people don’t get the notion that in order to preserve a species the rights of individual animals may have to be compromised or secondary. People may not understand how natural habitat works. For example, managing the population of the white-tailed deer in the Northeast: should it be through selective culling or moving them to sanctuaries? One could throw a natural ecosystem out of whack. A lack of scientific understanding of natural systems can overwhelm their view of the bigger picture.

Do you see any common issues where people who support zoos and people who disapprove of them can come together?
We’re all in groups to support animal rights because we love animals. This differentiates us from those who don’t. Right there we have a commonality. We share a common sense about how animals should be treated—responsibly, with fairness and kindness.

There is common ground, but people can take sides in rhetorical arguments. I encourage animal rights activists to learn about the ecological and scientific background; then [they can] evaluate whether a concern for action hinders or helps animals as a species.

Can you tell us about your involvement with the reintroduction of the California condor to the wild?
In the late 1970s-80s there were just 27 condors left in the wild. Zoos decided to bring the condors into captivity in order to breed a population. Through management and monitoring, they have been successfully reintroduced into the wild in
California and some parts of Colorado—their natural habitat. Their tendency to sit on powerlines were killing them off, and in captivity they were trained by using "mock" powerlines to teach them that they are "bad."

We are now at the point where we are managing nature and we have to learn to do it well. The condors are a classic example of a successful reintroduction program, but typically, there is no "wild" left to return animals to.

Anything else you’d like to convey to our readers?
Come see what we do. You may be surprised. It’s still a showplace for people but with a much broader purpose. Zoos used to be about human domination and power over animals. Now we are getting people to appreciate animals on their own terms.

Zoos: Myth and Reality - By Rob Laidlaw

In recent years, zoos have become the target of intense public scrutiny and criticism. In response, many have tried to repackage themselves as institutions devoted to wildlife conservation, public education and animal welfare. But most zoos fail to live up to their own propaganda and vast numbers of zoo animals continue to endure lives of misery and deprivation.

Nearly every zoo, from the smallest amateur operation to the largest professional facilities, claims to be making important contributions to conservation, usually through participation in endangered species captive propagation initiatives and public education programming. The zoo world buzzword of the moment is "conservation."

Yet, with an estimated 10,000 organized zoos worldwide, representing tens of thousands of human workers and billions of dollars in operating budgets, only a tiny percentage allocate the resources necessary to participate in captive propagation initiatives, and fewer still provide any real support for the in situ protection of wildlife and their natural habitat.

So far, the record on reintroductions to the wild is dismal. Only 16 species have established self-sustaining populations in the wild as a result of captive breeding efforts, and most of those programs were initiated by government wildlife agencies—not zoos. The contribution of zoos in this regard has been minimal, and often involves supplementing existing wild populations with a small number of captive-born individuals who are ill-prepared for life in the wild.

As the futility of captive breeding as a major conservation tool becomes evident to those in the industry, many zoos are now turning to education to justify themselves. Yet, zoo claims that they teach visitors about wildlife conservation and habitat protection, and their contention that they motivate members of the public to become directly involved in wildlife conservation work, doesn’t stand up to scrutiny. The truth is that scant empirical evidence exists to prove that the primary vehicle for education in most zoos—the animal in the cage—actually teaches anyone anything. In fact, viewing animals in cages may be counterproductive educationally by conveying the wrong kinds of messages to the public. Also, the legions of conservationists that zoos should have produced, if their claims were true, have never materialized.

Humane Treatment
But there is one issue about which there appears to be widespread agreementæat least in principle. So long as wild animals are kept in captivity, they ought to be treated humanely.

Studies have shown that animals can suffer physically, mentally and emotionally. For this reason, captive environments must be complex enough to compensate for the lack of natural freedom and choice, and they must facilitate expression of natural movement and behavior patterns. This principle has been widely espoused by the modern zoo community in various articles, books and television documentaries.

Yet despite the best of intentions or claims, most animals in zoos in
North America are still consigned to lead miserable lives in undersized, impoverished enclosures, both old and new, that fail to meet their biological and behavioral needs. Many in the zoo industry will bristle at this statement and point to numerous improvements in the zoo field. They’ll claim they’ve shifted from menagerie-style entertainment centers where animals were displayed in barred, sterile, biologically irrelevant cages, to kinder, gentler, more scientifically-based kinds of institutions.

But many of the "advances" in zoo animal housing and husbandry are superficial and provide little benefit to the animals. For example, the many new, heavily promoted, Arctic "art deco," polar bear exhibits that are springing up in zoos across the continent consistently ignore the natural biology and behavior of these animals. The artificial rockwork and hard floor surfaces typically resemble a Flintstones movie set more than the natural Arctic ice and tundra habitat of polar bears. These exhibits are made for the public and dupe them into believing things are getting better. What they really achieve is more misery and deprivation.

In addition, many new exhibits are hardly larger than the sterile, barred cages of days gone by. And one look at the prison-like, off-display holding and service areas in most zoos, where many animals spend a good portion of their lives, is proof of the hypocrisy of zoo claims that things are better for the animals than they were in the past.

Behind the Invisible Bars
If not all is well behind the invisible bars of North America’s more luxurious zoos, a more transparent problem is found in the hundreds of substandard roadside zoos that dot the continent. These amateurish operations fall far below any professional standard and do nothing but cause misery and death to thousands of animals.

My own investigations have revealed animals in visible distress lying unprotected from the full glare of the hot summer sun; primates in barren cages with no opportunity to climb; groups of black bears begging for marshmallows as they sit in stagnant moats of excrement-filled water, scarred and wounded from fighting; nocturnal animals kept without shade or privacy; animals without water; and the list goes on and on.

Many zoos, including those that meet industry guidelines, also annually produce a predictable surplus in animals that often end up in the hands of private collectors, animal auctions, circuses and novelty acts, substandard zoos, and even "canned hunt" operations where they’re shot as trophies [see Green interview].

A look at compliance with the zoo industry’s own standards (which in the author’s view do not necessarily constitute adequate standards) demonstrates how bad the situation really is. Of the estimated 200 public display facilities in
Canada, only 26—slightly more than 10 percent—have been deemed to meet the standards of the Canadian Association of Zoos and Aquariums (CAZA).

In the U.S., out of the 1,800-2,000 licensed exhibitors of wild animals (which includes biomedical research institutions, breeding facilities, small exhibitors, travelling shows, educational programs using live animals, zoos and aquariums), about 175 are accredited by the American Zoo and Aquarium Association (AZA), equivalent to less than 10 percent of all facilities.

Times are changing, and with them, public attitudes. Increasingly, members of the public find the confinement of animals in substandard conditions offensive. Zoos across the continent are feeling the pressure. They have to accept that if wild animals are to be kept in captivity, their needs must be met.

Are there good captive environments where the biological and behavioral needs of animals are being satisfied? The answer is yes. A recent Zoocheck
Canada survey of black bear and gray wolf facilities in North America revealed a number of outstanding exhibits where the animals displayed an extensive range of natural movements and behaviors. But they are few and far between.

Can zoos make a useful contribution to conservation and education? Again, the answer is yes. The Durrell Wildlife Conservation Trust (Jersey Zoo) in the
U.K., for example, clearly shows that zoos can become leaders in conservation education and wildlife protection. But few actually do.

I can’t understand why the more responsible segments of the zoo industry have not come to their senses and acknowledged the obvious—the present state of zoos is untenable. Either zoos can voluntarily adopt humane policies and practices, push for the closure of substandard facilities, and participate in advocating for laws to help wildlife, or they can be dragged kicking and screaming into the new millennium. It’s their choice.

Rob Laidlaw is Executive Director of Zoocheck Canada, which he helped establish in 1988. He is a specialist in captive wildlife issues and has conducted close to 1,000 zoo, circus and wildlife display inspections throughout
Canada and the U.S. To learn more, visit www.zoocheck.com or call (416) 285-1744.

The World’s Most Dangerous Species - Editorial: By Catherine Clyne

The American Zoo and Aquarium Association, the professional organization of zoos, claims that in 1998 "over 134 million people visited member institutions; more than attend all professional football, baseball, and basketball games combined." Whether you believe the numbers or not, one must concede that millions of people visit zoos—they bring their families, visit favorite animals, go on dates, or whatever. Some learn about the animals, others may go for amusement, some a combination of both, still others go to "commune" with fellow creatures. Regardless of what they get out of it, people visit zoos because they’re interested in the animals. If asked, most people will likely say that they genuinely love the animals. Many will also say that they believe they are helping wild animals in some way by visiting the zoo.

Opponents of zoos argue that no matter which way you look at it, the fact remains that zoo animals are incarcerated—against their will—and such an existence is not justifiable. By virtue of being captive, zoo animals, they point out, do no resemble their relatives in the wild. Moreover, they warn that by taking our families to zoos we are telling our children that it’s natural to incarcerate creatures for our pleasure, and by doing so, we are sending the message to zoos that we support the status quo.

Supporters of zoos say that they love the animals too, and that’s why they visit or work there. In AZA accredited zoos, they point out, the animals are well taken care. Everyone admits to the entertainment factor of zoos, but they argue that zoos have changed dramatically. Today’s zoos, they say, educate the public about animals and their natural habitat. More and more, zoos support the conservation of wild habitat by sponsoring projects—training of zoo and park personnel, educational programs for locals, surveys of animal populations and offering professional consultation. In turn, visitors are informed of these projects, making a tangible connection to the endangered areas in the world where zoo animals originally come from.

When I was a kid, my parents took the family on trips and the itinerary invariably included a visit to the zoo. Mostly, I loved seeing all of the animals. The Tokyo Zoo at Ueno Park was the last one that I visited. Tokyo has an extremely concentrated human population and, in the early 1980s, the Ueno Zoo reflected this scarcity of space (and probably still does). The big cats were the most disturbing: crammed into tiny metal cages, most paced back and forth in their limited space, looking quite psychotic.

Mohandas Gandhi observed that our treatment of animals is a reflection of our society. Zoos are not a new phenomenon. Ancient Egyptians kept menageries with exotic creatures from foreign lands. As a symbol of power and virility, male royal figures were depicted in decorative art hunting exotic or even captive animals (early canned hunts one might say). The modern zoo is a continuation of this legacy of imperialism, established by the British empire to amuse the public and to symbolize world domination. Modern zoos now occupy a strange place.

My recent visit to the Bronx Zoo was the first time that I had set foot in a zoo in years. I went with as open a mind as anyone could have. Indeed, zoos have changed a great deal—there is a huge effort to educate and there is more of a connection between the animals and where they live in the wild. But it was still disturbing. I make an effort not to be biased toward a particular species because I feel that all creatures are worthy and in need of concern, but because we are primates and they are so like us, it was the gorillas who had the most profound impact. Yes, in the Congo Gorilla Forest exhibit, there is open space with grass and some trees, and a few areas where they can get some privacy. But in the wild, gorillas range over vast amounts of territory, spending most of their time foraging for food.

Before entering the area where the gorillas are, there is an auditorium where a short film is shown. The perilous existence of wild gorillas is well portrayed, sending a message of conservation and environmentalism. At the film’s end, the screen went up and...there were two gorillas sitting beyond, staring back at us through glass. It was quite unsettling because they obviously knew the routine—they were waiting to check out the next batch of visitors.

In the Congo Forest, the gorillas generally looked bored; their main stimulation seemed to be the parade of people gawking at them. Nearly all of the gorillas faced the glass. Some displayed what I would guess is not typical gorilla behavior. One sat with her fingers in her ears—a gesture that I sympathized with, myself being bombarded by the cacophony from some of the educational gizmos that kids were interacting with. I wondered if they heard that noise all day and whether it was annoying and if they tuned it out. Another lay up against the glass. She knew just how to manipulate people to pay attention to her, occasionally blowing a kiss to the delight of spectators.

What constantly went through my mind was: what does a zoo need 22 captive gorillas for? They are the "charismatic megafauna", the animals that draw the crowds in. Most displays have just a few samples of a species, usually two of each. If zoo animals serve as "ambassadors" of their species, as some zoos say, what justifies incarcerating nearly two dozen gorillas? Are they the gorilla diplomatic mission to the U.N.?

In the old ape house at the Bronx Zoo, there used to be a caption that read something like "The world’s most dangerous species" and by it was a mirror. Not what you’d expect from a display created in the 1950s. At the end of today’s Gorilla Forest, there is a panel depicting the primate family tree. In the African Ape branch, there are pictures of each species including a space for Homo Sapiens, above which is a small mirror indicating our evolutionary kinship. A poignant but very different message.

When asked if zoos made efforts to educate the public about how our consumption patterns directly affect the wild habitats of the megafauna we admire, the response was basically, that zoos convey as much information as possible, but they don’t want to overwhelm; after all, visitors come to be entertained. It is ridiculous to think that the public can’t handle being educated about the responsibility that is ours.

Though it may be only natural for people to shy away when bombarded with "bad" news, the important message is getting lost in the fetal haze of trivia and minutia. If people in affluent nations can’t pay attention to what our over-consumptive habits are doing to the rest of the world and take responsibility, it’s only a matter of time before disaster forces us to finally pay attention. With approximately 50,000 species disappearing each year, we can’t afford to be indifferent much longer.

Animals rights advocates know this and zoo supporters know this. Environmentalists and most vegetarians all know this. Here is our common ground. We can all work together to bring a message straight to the millions of adults, teens and children who visit zoos every year. Zoos aren’t going anywhere soon, but our animals, environment and fellow people are, and we can choose to use the means that are available to work to change the situation for the better. After all, we’re all in this because we care about the animals.

December 26, 2013 World's cruellest zoo: Shackled elephants, starving camels, 150 pelicans crammed into one cage - and a death toll that rises daily