The Birds of Busch Gardens

an era of uncanny habitat

What is it like, I wonder, to be the Nile crocodile of the Tampa Bay Busch Gardens?Last week, while recovering from a roller coaster, I stumbled past his enclosure. He was being kept separate from the others, half submerged behind foggy, handprint-slicked glass. I imagined his life felt like living in a bygone Comfort Inn with consistent room service and no curtains, some toddler with a mild respiratory infection always banging on the glass, a woman from a flyover state hoping for a better Instagram photo.

A shoe-billed stork being fed in a nurse’s bathroom after the bombing of the Berlin Zoo, 1943

Later that afternoon - after four roller coasters had turned me inside out - I walked through a bird enclosure, where kids could feed personable Lorikeets (except for the bitey one at the end of the enclosure who was nesting). A pair of Black Storks circled the netted roof, coming to rest and groom each other on a high wire with a sort of grace that shamed me to watch, the sort of grace which transcended the screech of rollercoasters.

Exiting, I passed a pair of Hyacinth Macaws - a vulnerable South American parrot so deeply blue it seemed to smell like grapes or an ancient sea. They seemed subdued, overstimulated - a foil to their talkative neighbor, a White Cockatoo - an endangered species which greeted me with a dance and a hello, as if she had retained her zest for living and not yet become jaded by life in an amusement park. I felt as if I had a connection with the Cockatoo, but I also think Cockatoos are indiscriminate with their charm and want you to feel that way.

At lunch I drank a diet Coke and watched a few American White Ibis fight over waffle fries at the Busch Gardens Chick Fil A. The ibis was sacred in Egypt (and now considered invasive in Italy). I imagine a long ago artisan carving the shape of an ibis into a hieroglyph, out of reverence for the god Thoth, god of wisdom and writing, adding a waffle fry.

I tired of the amusement park hours before the rest of our group, which I’m not proud of. I’m a terrible sport sometimes. And I zoned out watching the flamingos, beaks lifted into the air as if indignant, each with a clipped right wing, pacing an artificial shoreline dotted with duck shit and a solitary white Trumpeter Swan. Their beauty felt undeniable and comical all at once.

I often think of the iconic photo of flamingos huddled together in a Miami Zoo’s men’s room during Hurricane Andrew. Or one I saw this week of a shoe-billed stork in 1943, which had survived the bombing of Berlin’s zoo and lived precariously in a nurse’s bathroom.

photo source

Behind these exotic species - snatched from the wild for our entertainment, and maybe for their own conservation - are often beloved and intentional caretakers.

And yet. Last week I searched for signage on conservation, on any messaging which would asks human visitors to reflect on the toll of human consumption on habitat, on the ability of these stunning and intelligent animals to live a safe and natural life outside of an amusement park. I looked for any messaging on the importance and urgency of conservation. If it was there, I missed it.

I am, frankly, embarrassed of our species’ search for amusement.

I hope you are holding steady in your lives during this time of dismantled norms, where BP can announce without shame that they are sidelining clean energy and returning to oil and gas, and the current administration threatens to dismantle NOAA, the organization which forecasts our weather and monitors the ocean and the sustainability of its species.

I urge you - do not be silent now. Find your voice - write your op eds, speak up - even if imperfectly. Do not leave it to a few brave souls, because an administration which boldly seeks to silence journalists, and limit who can report on the White House - will soon punish those who dare to witness and speak to its cruel truths, and we will all lose the freedom of speech we’ve come to consider as a fundamental right.

We can focus on environmental work at the state and local level. I truly believe you can still have enormous impact in the face of this bewilderingly stupid and anti-science administration. We cannot prevent suffering in this era, but we can reduce it.

Thank you for supporting and sharing my work, and joining me in this conversation.

xo

MMB

PS - I am still offering manuscript consults and creativity consults (hourlong sessions where we talk about your creative practice, goals, practical plans for executing dreams). Be in touch.