Berlin Zoo

Entrance to the Berlin Zoo

I have an ambivalent feeling about zoos as travel destinations. On one hand the animals are not free to roam their habitats and live a life that is natural to them. On the other, the animals are well-fed and protected from predators, disease and discomfort. With the decline of natural habitats, zoos around the world might be the place to save many species, at least until better solutions can be found. Nevertheless, over the years zoos have been an excellent place to take nieces, nephews and younger friends for an entertaining day out.

The Berlin Zoo opened on 1 August 1844 and was the first zoo in Germany, and the ninth in Europe. The animals were originally part of the menagerie of Prussian King Frederick William III. After his death, his heir (Frederick William IV) gave the animals and land for the construction of the zoo. After successful building campaigns and collection, the zoo faced a crisis during the Second World War. Prior to the war, the zoo had a population of 1196 mammals and 2516 birds. The zoo, along with the rest of Berlin, was heavily damaged and many buildings housing animals were destroyed. By the end of the war only ninety-one animals (mammals and birds) survived, including Knautschke, a male hippopotamus.

Born in in 1943, Knautschke was the only remaining hippo in the zoo after the war and became a favorite among visitors as a symbol of survival amongst the ruins of Berlin. It made international headlines in the 1950s when Knautschke was reunited with his mate Grete from the Leipzig zoo for breeding purposes. He lived until 1988 when he was seriously injured by his own son (Nantes) and had to be euthanized. The seemingly quixotic monument to Knautschke is a statue that stands at a heavy-used intersection of the park, just outside the hippopotamus enclosure.

The statue of Knautsche

Knautschke remains highly popular at the Berlin Zoo, at least his statue does. While I waited patiently to take a picture of him, many children came running out of nowhere to climb on him and have, what appeared to be, an obligatory photography by doting parents. At one point I had been waiting for a while when a father placed his two children on Knautschke’s back for the second time (the first time he had taken pictures while other children were on the great hippo as well). He fumbled with his camera/phone, snapped a picture and then disaster occurred. He was talking to his daughter who I assume was about four years old, when his three year old son tried to get down, slid off the back of Knautschke and landed face first on the mulch surrounding the statue. There was a hesitation, and then the three year old let out a deafening scream. When his father picked him up, the little boy’s face and nose were a mixture of mulch and blood. Another father, who was pushing an empty pram, came running over with a travel-sized package of tissues and to offer support. A while later, I saw the father, no doubt, explaining the situation to the children’s mother via the same phone he so anxiously took the fateful photograph. There was a look of panic in his eyes.

500-year old English Oak

Given the devastation of the war, it is amazing when any objects of being survived the Second World War in Berlin. As such, that a 500-year old tree still survives in the zoo is amazing. The English Oak, also near the hippopotamus pen, is estimated to have begun growing in 1480 and survived the founding and growth of the park, as well as the war. Today the oak is the oldest tree in the zoo and very much alive; however, it has lost its crown. Thus, its days are likely numbered.

Bobby the Gorilla

Germans have long been known for revering and commemorating animals.  At the entrance to the zoo there is a statue of Bobby the Gorilla (1928-1935) who inspired the popular song, Mein Gorilla hat ‘en Villa im Zoo (My Gorilla Has a Villa in the Zoo). A sculpture of a group of polar bears, created in 1930, forms a gathering place near cafes and food stands adjacent to the exit of the park. My real objective for the trip was to find the memorial statue of Knut, the young polar bear that captured the world’s attention a few years ago. After winning the hearts of many people around the world, his tragic death was a shock and a year later the Berlin Zoo unveiled the tribute in his honor. I, like many people, was captivated by the pictures of the young polar bear. I even have a small plastic polar bear on a window seal that I refer to as Knut.

Eisbär (Polar Bear) - not Knut 

My Sunday morning at the zoo, by myself, made me think a lot about the purpose of such a venue. One of the first things I saw in the zoo was a little boy, of about six or seven years, who clearly has a fascination for things that reminded me of myself. When I saw him, he was at the flamingo pen dutifully copying the information that was provided on the sign. Meanwhile his parents and younger siblings looked on. After I spotted him, I immediately went to the nearest shaded park bench to write a brief note about what I had observed in my journal. Perhaps what that little boy and I record in our journals are different, but I understand and respect his motivation. For this little boy, the zoo was a source of inspiration.

Animals, especially our pets, are a central part of our lives. When I travel this comes into sharp focus; I miss my own and I see how many people in Europe walk and tote their dogs around (presumably, most house cats are too cool and disinterested to walk around European cities). Monument and memorials to famous animals are not uncommon. For example, the monument to Martha, the last known passenger pigeon, at the Cincinnati Zoo is particularly moving.  In an era where we are experiencing a mass extinction of several species, the practice of memorializing animals might become even more common.