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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
