Where the Wild Things Are

A tale of two keepers at the Philadelphia Zoo, America’s oldest, where AFSCME Local 752 (Council 47) represents almost 100 employees.

By Clyde Weiss

The Primate Keeper

PHILADELPHIA

"Chaka, come on," urges Julie Unger Smith, head keeper of the Philadelphia Zoo’s Primate Reserve. Sitting on his haunches, the 450-pound gorilla reaches out for apple slices she tosses over the compound gate, but makes no attempt to move toward the pieces that land out of reach.

"Excuse me, ma’am," a 7-year-old boy interjects. "What happens if you accidentally throw [one] and hit him?"

"He doesn’t mind," replies Smith as she pitches another slice. But the self-described "Curious George" doesn’t give up. "Excuse me, ma’am. What happens if someone accidentally falls in that pit?" Smith tosses another slice, leaving the child to answer from his imagination.

Later, she notes that the keepers don’t even go into the great apes’ compound unless absolutely necessary. Chaka is very gentle, she notes, but "if he decided to hurt you, he would have no problem doing so."

Smith didn’t seem to mind the boy’s inquisition. Education goes hand in hand with being a keeper, she explains, and she values the "wonderful podium" from which she can impart her knowledge about the roughly 50 primates that occupy the zoo.

"I believe anything we do with conservation has to begin with teaching," adds Smith, 37. "People of all ages — but especially children — are going to be responsible for the future of these animals, and to get them interested is the absolute first job" of a zoo.

TRAGIC LESSON. Zookeepers learn lessons, too. A wrenching one was learned at this very spot on Christmas Eve, 1995. A fire broke out in the primate building, killing Chaka’s parents, John and Samantha, and 21 other primates. All died of smoke inhalation. The worst fire ever in an American zoo, it was traced to an electrical malfunction caused by improperly installed wires that overheated ceiling pipes.

At the time, Chaka — a Western lowland gorilla whose species inhabits Central Africa — was on loan to the Cincinnati Zoo for breeding purposes. Now the Philadelphia Zoo’s main ape, the 16-year-old silverback has seven offspring.

The zoo built a new $24-million, 2.5-acre primate reserve, which was designed to prevent a similar catastrophe. Hidden features safeguard against smoke spreading from one area of the compound to another, while removing deadly carbon monoxide from any burning area. The reserve’s main exhibit building resembles an abandoned sawmill, with exposed pipes, cargo netting and other structures that provide play areas for the animals.

In 1968, Philadelphian Gerald W. McEntee organized Local 752 and "got the first contract for us," says Local Pres. Umar Mycka. Edward Keller, current executive director of Council 13 and an International vice president, was a birdkeeper and the local’s first president. Throughout the country, AFSCME represents more than 1,600 employees in about 20 zoos and aquariums.

LOVE OF APES. Smith began her Philadelphia Zoo career 14 years ago. Right after college, she volunteered in the veterinary department, then in the lab. Armed with the veterinary internship and an animal sciences degree from the University of Delaware, she later became a regular employee.

Smith’s first five years were spent in training throughout the zoo, filling in as needed. Yet from the outset, she was drawn to the primates, especially the great apes.

Although they seem playful and tame, the big apes are wild animals. The keepers therefore need to be especially wary around them. Says Smith: "We double- and triple-check our locks every day."

She adds that keepers need to be mindful of their own state of mind around the primates. "If you’re not feeling focused, it’s very important to take a breath, take a walk, come back and do it [the job] when you feel better. There’s just no room for accidents with animals like this."

There is another important reason to keep one’s distance from the great apes: to preserve their natural instincts. "We are not into circus-training the animals," Smith explains. "We just try to give them their dignity and their respect. A lot of people would say, ‘Oh, look, they’re just like people, but they can’t talk.’ They’re not imperfect people. I think of them as perfect gorillas."

The Reptile Keeper

Meet the creeping crawlies: two-foot-long, blind amphibians that resemble monster worms; a poisonous, 14-foot king cobra that can kill an elephant with one bite; and, not crawly but certainly a creeper, a Galapagos tortoise that tips the scales at more than 500 pounds but is much nicer than its name — Bitchy — implies.

Let Tania Minotti be your guide. The 29-year-old keeper in the reptile house has been with the Philadelphia Zoo for 14 years. Here, with the scaly critters, she is in her element.

Minotti has been attracted to this reptile house since she was a child. At the age of 12, she volunteered to work with the live animal collection at the city’s Academy of Natural Sciences. "I flourished," she says. "When I was 15, I said, ‘Hey, let me see what the zoo has to offer.’"

What it offered was an opportunity to volunteer at the children’s exhibit called Backyard Bugs. The teenager was delighted. "That’s my favorite thing in the entire world," she told zoo officials. "I love insects, I love spiders."

MONSTER ‘WORMS.’ Minotti guides a visitor into her realm beneath the reptile house. Among its residents are her favorite critters: the Mexican Caecilians. They’re amphibians, like frogs, but look like worms from your worst nightmare.

"I just call them wacky animals," she chuckles, cradling one in her arm. Some of the Caecilians have eyes covered by skin and can detect light. Others just have eyespots. Their teeth curve in a mouth that seems to smile. This particular species comes from Central America, but they exist in all the world’s tropics.

Although most people have never seen a Caecilian, Minotti has viewed their most intimate moments: "I’m the first person ever to see them mate." And this is the first zoo to have had a captive birth. We had no clue [about the pregnancy] until I looked into their box and saw these five little squirmy things."

She adds emphatically, "I’m hooked, and I’ve been ever since" the blessed event.

Minotti has scored another eerie first: seeing the Caecilians eat their shed skin. And she is studying their milky secretions, which, she says, the babies probably scrape off the mother with "uterine teeth." A researcher at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., will help her figure out the nature of the "milk."

Minotti has also co-authored a paper on the creatures that appeared in a professional journal on herpetology (the branch of science that deals with reptiles and amphibians).

GIANT REPTILES. Aside from her worm-like "pets," she helps care for a menagerie of some 600 other animals. Not the least of them are three Galapagos tortoises and several other giant land tortoises from the Aldabra Islands in the Indian Ocean.

"They kind of have minds of their own, so they can be frustrating," says Minotti. We might be frustrating, too, if we had fiberglass patches covering our backs. One of the tortoises does — to repair shell rot.

Then there’s Starfire, the enormous king cobra, a species known for an inflatable neck hood and venom that paralyzes its victim’s nervous system. "We consider her the most dangerous animal in the park," says Minotti.

So dangerous, in fact, that the reptile house is closed to the public during her feedings. The viewing windows are actually doors, which they open to toss dead rats to the 21-year-old snake.

Minotti grew up around animals. Her family had cats, dogs and snakes. She once envisioned becoming a veterinarian, but after spending time around the University of Pennsylvania veterinary hospital, de-cided that was not her calling.

"The idea of working in a clinic is great, but they see the same things — cats and dogs — all the time," she explains. "I knew I wanted to work with exotic animals."