Grief, apparently5, according to the widely acceptedKübler Ross model, generally has five stages: Denial,Anger, Bargaining (where you try to make a deal with Godor fate, or in lesser7 circumstances, the person who has leftyou), Depression, and Acceptance. I feel as if I skipped thefirst three and went straight to depression and acceptancesimultaneously. But the idea of anger intrigued8 me. I didn’tfeel anger as such—there was nothing and no one to feelanger toward for this random9 biological event, apart fromsome small-minded mishandling by some of the healthcarepeople involved, and they were just institutionalized cogs ina flawed machine. Besides, I didn’t have the energy foranger.
But I did feel a strong sense of disbelief that peoplecould be so petty. I didn’t mind seeing people arguing in thestreet, or not appreciating each other or frittering theirvaluable time in some other way. I could understand thatthey had drifted into this perspective and it was quitenormal. What really got me, though, was the pettiness ofmany of the people at the park, particularly when there wassuch a clear and obvious common goal to reach for. I sat inon meetings and listened to endless silly bickering10 andpower plays: “I can’t work with so-and-so”; “He said this, soI said . . .” I stood out in the park in the rain impassively,awash with keepers’ complaints about things like leakingwheelbarrows when they already knew that replacementswere on order, and I wondered how anything in the worldever gets done. But these tiny, seemingly irrelevantpreoccupations, I realized, were the stuff of life. People’sdaily experiences, what they had to deal with on the ground,were what it was all about—and that was somewhere onwhich I had to refocus.
Being part of the zoo had definitely helped, even in themost extreme times. Looking out of the window and seeingyoung keepers laughing as they worked, aware thatsomeone was ill in the house and obviously sympathetic,but still knowing they had a job to do looking after theanimals and getting on with it. Keeping the park going wasparticipating in the cycle of life. Things were born, likepiglets or a deer, and things died, like Spar the Tiger, orone of the owls11. And Katherine. But no matter howdevastating for me, the children, or Duncan and Mum, lifegoes on. It was like being on a farm, where it can’t simplystop because one person isn’t there.
For now, there was work to do: new repairs to make, newstaff to hire, and most important, getting our license12 to tradeas a zoo. This is a complicated procedure, whereby youhave to give notice of your intention to apply two monthsbefore you do so, to allow objections to be raised, aired,and assessed. In our case we knew we could expect strongobjections from animal rights activists13 who had targeted thepark’s poor practices in the past, but the local communitywas supportive, and the council was showing no signs ofbeing obstructive. An inspection14 date would then bebooked, after which a verdict could take another six weeksto deliver. So far, straightforward15. But the problem was thatif we failed this inspection, we couldn’t just rebook one in aweek or so; we would have to go through the wholeprocedure again, complete with the two-month delay andpossible six-week wait for the result. If we failed theinspection, it would be catastrophic for the business plan,which relied entirely16 on maximizing the income from thesummer season.
By early April we had already missed Easter, the firstand sometimes biggest bonanza17 weekend on the leisureindustrycalendar and a significant pillar of our businessplan. As the winter progressed, we’d tentatively suggestedearly June as our opening date, backtracking ourinspection date from there. But in view of the amount ofwork to be done, eventually we settled for July. Which gaveus an inspection date of June 4. There was a cleardeadline to meet, a certain number of tasks to be carriedout before then, and as long as these were addressedaccordingly, it was a done deal. Probably.
My participation18 was clearly necessary, but it took me awhile to readjust to this already broadly unfamiliarenvironment. In those days, I needed to be alone to cryevery few hours or so. I was lucky that the nature of my job,as roving troubleshooter and director, allowed me to beable to do this. I could steer20 a meeting or oversee21 the sitingof a fence post, and then make my excuses and leave,ostensibly to pursue some urgent business about the park.
More often than not, however, I’d hole up in one of my safehavens—the attic22, the top of the observation tower, the ferngarden—and let the tears roll. It was like a bottomlessreservoir, busting23 at the dams, needing to be drainedbefore any progress could be made.
While I had been watching from the house or the frontlawn, Steve was recruiting two new senior keepers.
Normally it would have been unthinkable that I wasn’tinvolved directly in the interview and selection process, as Iobviously have a keen personal interest in who is employedon the site. I want to know about their philosophies ofanimal management, their interpersonal skills, and see howthey respond to the interview itself. I find that with the fewstaff that I have interviewed and then taken on, the interviewitself comes up in conversation from time to time as animportant part of the transaction between us. I may remindthem of something they agreed to do, or they remind me ofa commitment I made, or we laugh about someembarrassing moment. But the interview is criticallyimportant to me in establishing just who exactly we will beputting our trust in, and several candidates fell very wide ofthe mark. But as it was, I was distantly aware that theselection process was going on, and trusted Steve’sjudgment entirely.
And I was right to do so. The two keepers he recruited inthat time, Owen and Sarah, had both participated ininternationally recognized rare-animal breeding programs.
And both of them brought useful contacts lists forexchanges with other zoos, and the personal credibility toback them up. In other words, each keeper carries a directexperience of breeding rare animals that follows themaround. Sarah, for instance, has unique and directexperience of the fishing cats at Port Lympne Zoo, whosedirectors were so impressed with her that they said abreeding pair could come with her to DZP, as soon as wecould build them a suitable enclosure. Owen, a soft-spokenbut assertive25 young Scots man who grew up on a croft, orsmall farm, also has a portfolio26 of rare animals—in his casebirds—which follows him around, and his best idea was tocover the flamingo27 lake with a large enclosed aviary28 andput in a mangrove29 swamp to house some of his moreexotic future acquisitions. I agreed immediately, and thenasked how we would go about putting mangroves in. “Idon’t know yet,” said Owen. “But I’ll find out and let youknow.” Then it would be over to me to work out whether wecould implement30 it. Such are the challenges that face a zoodirector, I was discovering. But these are enjoyablechallenges, and being able to commission a mangroveswamp is a position I never thought I’d be in.
Owen and Sarah, who were now the senior keepers,were several times referred to as “stars” by people in thezoo world, such as Nick Lindsay and Mike Thomas. Owenand Sarah were people they had read about in theliterature, whose reputations preceded them. Even PeterWearden, our local environmental health officer, seemed tohave heard of them, or at least appreciated the significanceof us being able to attract them to work for us. Owen, I’dbeen told, had turned down a place at San Diego Zoo towork here. San Diego is a world leader in many fields,including his, a place that could offer him almostunimaginable resources to pursue his interests. One day Iasked him why he’d chosen this run-down place instead, inan area with one of the highest rainfalls in Britain, and notthe resource-rich, sunnier climes of Southern California.
“When I walked round the place, I obviously saw theamazing potential of the site,” he said. “But I also saw thatthere was a great sadness here, and that sadness wassomething I wanted to reverse.” He wasn’t talking aboutKatherine, he was talking about the effects of the long,slow, twenty-year decline of the park, on the people, theanimals, and the infrastructure—piles of clutter31 everywhere,hoarded in hope that had gradually ebbed32 away, leaving aresidue of fatalism and algae33 behind it.
Owen and Sarah may have been stars, but they were notprima donnas. They were physically34 tough andhardworking. Having both relocated from far-flung UK zoos,they initially35 had no accommodation and so they campedon site in the interminable rain, doing their laundry andwashing up in the rest rooms of the restaurant. I offeredthem use of the shower in the house, when it worked, butthey were happier with their subsistence living—andbesides, the hot water was more reliable in the restaurant.
Out in the park in all weathers, they led from the front, andboth regularly spent many extra hours until dark, mendingenclosures, building new ones, and continuing the on goingproject of the park without the need for constant guidance.
And they fulfilled the license requirement of training theexisting staff in the ways of modern zoo practices.
This “trickle down” training was something we had beentold we needed to do or else close down. Or rather, notopen at all. The people we employed to look after theanimals—Rob, Kelly, Hannah, Paul, John, and even Robinon occasion—were skilled and experienced, but they werenot qualified37. For all their hands-on knowledge and years inthe trenches38, there was barely a diploma among them. Andthese days, zoo-license-wise, paper qualifications arecritical. I was delighted that these trickle-down processeswere going on, because it was a vital part of our licenserequirement that we employed fully39 trained staff.
Increasingly now I roamed the park believing that theimpossible, which then became the merely improbable,had now, objectively, become the very likely. In fact, I hadnever had any doubt that we were going to succeed inopening the park, but increasingly, surrounded by so manypessimistic perspectives, I had begun to understand otherpeople’s perceptions and I hadn’t liked what I saw from theother side. Even though I knew they were wrong, the sheerweight of numbers in the naysaying camp was almost overwhelming.
To be fair, they had some good points. For one thing, weneeded sixty thousand visitors a year to break even, and atthe moment we had nowhere to feed them. The restaurant,supposed to be a going concern, contained barely a singleserviceable appliance. The dishwasher, gas hob, ovens,microwaves, and two of the three fat fryers didn’t work.
Luckily our new ideas for the menu, involving healthy, locallysourced food, meant that we wouldn’t be needing the twobroken fat fryers, but everything else needed to bereplaced. I had a dream for the restaurant, which was to getit as smart as a Conran venue40 and open it in the eveningsas a separate entity41 from the zoo. The figures for the lastthree years’ trading, though in sharp decline, showed thatthe restaurant and bar were the engine of the park,accounting42 for more than a third of its total income. With itsgrimy Artex ceiling, strip lights, heavy dark-blue carpets andcurtains, and a kitchen full of grease-coated scrap44, it wasgoing to be a long haul to get there. The other thing that thetrading figures showed was that the month of August wasabsolutely critical, with combined ticket and restaurantsales accounting for approaching half of the annual income.
August was make or break, and if we missed it, we weresunk. “I think that this August will provide about sixty percentof your income this year,” Mike Thomas told me on one ofhis visits, sitting in the uninspiring environs of therestaurant. A quick glance around us left me in no doubt asto the scale of the task ahead. If sixty thousand peoplearrived over the summer wanting to be fed, we simplycouldn’t afford for them to walk out and find somewhereelse to eat as we had once done, in the park’s final opendays last spring. As well as the requirements for theanimals, this was a business, and the customer serviceside had to be treated with equal importance, or the vetbills wouldn’t get paid and the worthy46 conservation planswould be unworkable.
So Duncan and I started going to pubs—strictly forresearch purposes, you understand—to observe cateringoperations in action. We put in many, many, dedicated48,selfless long hours in this quest for catering47 enlightenmentbefore settling in a carvery down the road in nearbyPlympton that had an exceptional catering staff. The otherinteresting thing about this venue, though far removed fromour aspirations49 for our own facilities, was that it wasextremely well run. And always packed. A constant streamof local people came here to eat, so that a good naturedline almost always stretched from the restaurant to the bar.
This meant that, in order to conduct our reconnaissanceeffectively, we had to loiter at a part of the bar forbidden toall but diners, which we did. What struck me was that, whena certain manager named Mark was on, we were alwaysasked to move within about five minutes. Initially he wassatisfied with our line, “We’re waiting for some friends,” buton about the fourth visit he laughed and said, “Are thesefriends of yours ever going to turn up?” Mark waseverywhere: in the kitchen, amongst the tables, behind thebar, even facing down a gang of towering teenagers whohad broken a window the evening before. I warmed to him,confessed that we were actually engaged in mild industrialespionage, and asked if he’d like to help us at the zoo. Hedidn’t want to leave his job, but he agreed, and worked outsome simple menu ideas that could be produced relativelyeasily using mass-market catering suppliers. Thesesuppliers provided food for several well-known zoos, someof which I’d visited and sampled the food of, and it wasn’tso bad. With minimum intervention50 we could tidy up therestaurant, provide simple food to get us through the allimportantmonth of August, then re-vamp the place duringthe quieter winter months. It sounded like a plan, but a planthat worried me. Now we had the money for theredevelopment, though we were running out of time. By thetime winter came, at the rate funds were flowing out, it wasquite possible that the money would have been spent onother things. Mark visited us several times, brimming withenthusiasm, but because of his full-time51 job, hissuggestions inevitably52 entailed53 a lot of legwork on our side.
As the weeks inched forward toward crunch54 time, we had todecide whether to go for the holding strategy or the boldmove, orchestrating a full revamp and a “hard” opening,showcasing our radical55 changes. What we needed wassomeone to take this problem in its entirety, run with it, andturn it into a solution for the other ills at the park.
And then came Adam. I was in a bad mood when I firstmet Adam, standing56 out by the otter57 enclosure in a largearea of the park I had always wanted to dedicate to freerangingmonkeys, and to my father, Ben Harry58 Mee, whohad provided the funds for the park—albeit unwittingly andposthumously, and absolutely certainly (had he been alive)unwillingly. I wanted more tropical trees populated withcolorful birds, endangered, people-friendly primatesrunning loose, and a modest monument to my dadsomewhere, the Ben Harry Mee Memorial Jungle. It wouldhave been the last thing he’d ever have expected, and Iknew that despite his disapproval59 at the obvious folly60 of themisuse of his hard-earned capital designated for the futuresecurity of his family, he would have been quietly amusedby this. I liked to picture him sitting down to read in atranquil jungle glade62 to the sound of kookaburras and birdsof paradise, beset63 by curious little monkeys, before finallysnapping his book shut and saying, “It’s bloody64 ridiculous.”
But he’d have kept going back, and one day we’d havefound him feeding the monkeys with a stash65 of somethinghe’d carefully observed that they loved to eat.
All this was constantly under threat from pressures withinthe zoo for other uses of the land. The petting zoo had to gosomewhere, as did the education center involving a naturepond; between them, they would eat at least two-thirds ofthis space. That morning I had also endured aninterminable barrage66 of phone calls from double-glazingwindowsalesmen; people who wanted to do marketing,advertising, and building work; and two companies that hada surefire way to reduce our business rates for a small fee(both utterly67 and obviously spurious), as well as a constantstream of personal callers, usually people who had workedin the park before and wanted their old jobs back, as longas such and such a person wasn’t there anymore. I had hadenough. And then Duncan came up the path, accompaniedby a tall, fresh-faced man called Adam, who had sent mean e-mail a week or two before to offer his services as acatering manager.
Catering was one of the few areas we more or less hada handle on, it seemed to me at the time (though I was sowrong). “What? Yes, fine. I’ll look at your CV,” or tersewords to that effect were probably how I initially responded,making a note to remind Duncan that the last thing weneeded was a change of direction now. But Duncan wasconvinced by Adam. His story was that he had worked inretail and customer services from a young age until veryrecently, in his thirties, when his father had sold the nearbythriving Endsleigh Garden Center to a national chain, andthey had both retired68 to pursue other avenues. In his father’scase, this meant buying a yellow biplane and setting upanother business in the sunnier climes of southern France(bastard). In Adam’s, it meant buying a nice house in thelocality and setting up a farm shop on the grounds of thegarden center to sell organic produce for the morediscerning market.
The more I delved69, the more it seemed to make sense.
Adam wanted to open the restaurant in the evenings—hehad the bearing of the perfect ma?tre d’—and he hadexcellent customer service credentials70 and experience ofthe local market. And he wanted to start right away. After aweek of dithering, we took him on, and it was as if a weighthad been lifted on that side of the park. Adam wanted to gofor the full revamp, and immediately set about pulling inquotes from reliable local tradesmen he had worked withbefore, ploughing through the administrative71 processeswith the council, and even finding time to take a onedaylicensing course so that he could be the named licensee forthe bar.
Suddenly this tall man with the enthusiasm of a youngpup, impeccably polite and diplomatic at all times, becameone of our most valuable assets. Undaunted by theprospect of fitting out the restaurant, shop, and kitchensimultaneously, he also ran a computer business and waseager to fit an electronic point of sale (EPOS) till systemwhich would give us instant feedback on visitor numbers,how much they spent and on what (the critical spend-perheadstatistic that we really needed to get above ￡5 perperson on top of their ticket price), and even their postalcodes, so we knew where our market was coming from.
We came to rely on Adam, and not just for his problemsolvingabilities and propensity74 to take up any slack hesaw, even if it didn’t directly concern him. “Can I make asuggestion?” he would say, leaning in like a wine stewardabout to rescue an ignorant customer from the perils75 of acomplicated wine list, whenever he saw a problem thatwasn’t being properly addressed. No, what I began to relyon most from Adam was his optimism. Having someonewho said, “Of course, no problem. I’ll get on to it right away,”
instead of “It’ll be expensive, and you’ll have to do X and Yfirst and that’s going to be impossible,” made all thedifference. Optimism was undoubtedly76 Adam’s mostvaluable contribution.
I once lost quite a lot of blood, about two pints77, after asilly accident in a martial78 arts class (I walked forward when Ishould have stepped back, and took a precision blow to thenose that ruptured79 something deep in my nasal cavities).
Sitting in the emergency room, dripping prolifically80 into aseries of compressed cardboard trays, I gradually gotweaker. Young(ish) men with skinhead haircuts andnosebleeds, particularly inflicted82 by some sort of violence,take a low priority in Accident and Emergency. There’salways a car crash or a heart attack ahead of you, and itwasn’t until my vision started tunnelling and everything wentinto black-and-white that I finally staggered up and informedthe nearest nurse that I was about to pass out, then lay backon my trolley83 to do just that. Suddenly I was an emergency,and I was dimly aware of a phalanx of medicalprofessionals bearing down on me, ER style, armed withdrips and other bits of reassuring84 kit43. Katherine, who hadbrought me in, didn’t help by saying “Phwoorr,” because atthe head of the phalanx was a bronzed Australian orderlywhose half-sleeve white tunic85 showed off his amplymuscled forearms, as she had been pointing out to me forthe last two hours. Just as my eyes closed and I started tobe sucked into unconsciousness, they fitted a saline dripinto my arm and gave me some injections, and thesensation was extraordinary. It was exactly like having anenormous thirst quenched86, but instead of the reliefspreading outward from the stomach, it was spreadingfrom my arm. That was what it was like having Adam takeover the restaurant at this difficult time. A seeminglyperipheral piece of the puzzle was infecting the whole placewith renewed positivity. The oil tanker87 of the park wasgradually being turned around before it drifted onto therocks.
The other thing that Adam brought in that cheered me upwere builders, and good ones—well kitted out,hardworking, and versatile88. Special mention has to go toTim the carpenter, small but perfectly89 formed, and head of asmall highly skilled team, which laid a solid oak floor in thethree hundred square meters of the restaurant, built a curvyservice counter based on a whimsical sketch90 I drew in threeminutes on the back of an envelope, and clad the revoltingbar in the leftover91 pieces of oak, on budget, and all in aboutsix weeks.
During this time, materials were arriving, electricianswere fiddling92 with new sunken spot lighting93, andplasterboard gradually blotted94 out the Artex, that decoratingcrime against humanity, on the ceiling. There was floorsanding going on, painting, the first and second fix, allthings I knew about and had witnessed many times, sureindicators of ongoing95 progress. Whenever I passed throughthe restaurant, it felt good, and I was drawn96 into discussionswith conscientious97 experts in fields I also actually knewsomething about. Hell, I was a DIY expert, officially in print. Igenuinely could make informed decisions in a familiar field,instead of having to learn everything from scratch as anoutsider. Whenever I got the chance, I would join in a bit,usually during the lunch hour (even good builders have lunchhours, but I couldn’t seem to justify98 the time). I rememberone happy afternoon smashing the execrable tiles off thewall behind the counter with a large hammer and abricklayer’s bolster99, and another using a belt sander to puta snub-nosed radius100 on the edge of the beautiful new oakcladbar. These were fleeting101 visits to a simpler life, and Ialways had to reenter the general fray102 beyond sooner than Iwould have liked. But, like all good and righteous DIYinterventions, they were good for the soul.
Peter Wearden made several visits to the park in theearly days to see how things were going, give advice, andusually drop off interminable piles of unappetizing matter—Imean, essential reading—such as turgid ring bindersentitled “Secretary of State’s Handbook for Modern ZooPractice,” and “The Zoo Forum’s Handbook.” These, alongwith the health and safety literature, and food, drinks, andentertainment licensing72 forms, really are essential but nottempting reading. Perfect for dipping into relevantparagraphs in support of some application, or rapidlybringing on sleep at the end of a busy day.
But then one day he passed me something that nearlybrought me to tears: a paper from the journal Biologistabout why we need zoos. I really nearly could have cried.
The big folders103 of nonsense merely added to the alreadyenormous unfamiliar19 workload104, joining pressing materialfrom banks, lawyers, and creditors105, which already overfilledmy day. Suddenly, here was an academic paper I neededto read and digest, in support of future media interviews,press releases, or public debates.
Fifteen years earlier, I had taken a master’s course atImperial College London in science journalism106, and sincethen I had been making my living to a greater or lesserdegree by translating into English science papers exactlylike this one, and many much more impenetrable, forpublications in glossy107 magazines and newspapers andoccasional broadcasts on radio and television. Seeing thepaper felt like home, far more than the house we weresitting in. It was even presented on a stapled108 black-andwhiteA4 photocopy109, a format110 very familiar, and handy formy pencil notes in the margin111. For the last ten months Idon’t think I’d looked at or even thought about a scientificpaper amidst the pressing urgencies of zoo acquisition.
Though I was by now already mentally, physically, andemotionally pretty drained, at last I was being asked tomove back (at least a tiny bit) onto familiar territory, and thisrare ray of positivity was not just a reminder112 of how life usedto be, but an indication of how it could be again.
One of the main attractions for me in buying the zoo hadbeen the prospect73 of conducting scientific research andwriting about it in journals, books, and magazines. And thislittle sliver113 of science, carefully folded and put in my pocketnext to the pencil that would soon be scribbling114 on it,reminded me that that was still possible—once we’dresolved that pesky matter of getting a ￡500,000 loan,spending it in the right way to get a zoo license, the licensebeing granted in time, and then enough people comingthrough the door for the zoo to be able to support theinterest payments on that loan. Piece of cake. Then I couldthink about research projects.
Another very welcome piece of scientific material, whichcame my way a few weeks later, was the AustralianRegional Association of Zoological Parks (ARAZP)husbandry manual for the species Prionailurus viverrinus,or fishing cats. As an act of enormous faith in us, subject togetting our license of course, another zoo, Port Lympne,had offered us a breeding pair of these incredibly feisty,medium-size cats. Standing up to thirty-three inches tall andweighing over thirty pounds, they are taller than a whippetand heavier than a Staffordshire bull terrier, and far moredangerous than either. Classed as a “hazardous” animal tokeep, in their native Asia they have been known to “fight offpacks of dogs, carry off babies, and even kill a leopard115.”
And, according to the IUCN (International union forConservation of Nature), they are “Near Threatened.”
Though only one category away from “Least Concern,” thisis also one category away from “Vulnerable,” which wouldput it on the IUCN’s Red List of endangered animals.
Without sustained active conservation measures it isextremely rare for animals to move back down this list towhere they are no longer under threat. What tends tohappen is that they move up the list to Endangered, on toCritically Endangered, and then inexorably onward116 towardExtinct. Going, going, gone.
But there is hope. Conservation measures do work: in2006, the number of species that moved up the list into amore critical category was 172, but 139 moved down to animproved status. And there is one other vital category forzoos: Extinct in Wild. Animals have been known to comeback from this category, which nudges full-on, irrevocableExtinct, and even head right down the list and back out intothe wild to Least Concern. It is an unusual but growingtrend, and thanks to pioneers like Gerald Durrell, thezoological community is now increasingly focusing oncaptive breeding programs. These don’t always lead toreintroduction to the wild; generally, creatures go extinctbecause there is no longer enough of their preferredversion of the wild left to sustain them. But captive breedingdoes inform conservation measures in remaining naturalhabitats, also increasingly undertaken by zoos, by revealingthe specific requirements that animals need to breed.
Knowing exactly what conditions you are aiming for, ratherthan things you think they might need, can make that allimportantdifference between Critically Endangered andExtinct.
Fishing cats are quite tricky117 because they are soaggressive. The male sometimes kills the female, which isnot a good way to continue a species. What prompts themto do this is not known, though as lovers’ tiffs118 go, it ismaladaptive in the extreme. But fishing cats have beenbred successfully at Port Lympne and in Australia (hencethe Australian husbandry guide—the EuropeanEndangered Species Program [EEP] is still drawing theirsup), several other places around the world, and with luck, atDartmoor Zoological Park, before long. As their habitatshrinks, due to the encroachment119 of agriculture in northernIndia, Burma, Thailand, and Sumatra, if they do move upthe Red List, at least there will be diverse seed populationsin captivity120, should their time come again. At least there willstill be fishing cats.
This was scientific work that was directly applicable towhat we were trying to achieve on the ground—it was evena license requirement that we launch projects such as these—and I avidly121 absorbed the entire document. Therecommended minimum size for their enclosures, forinstance, is 40 square meters. The Australians hadprovided 85. We could give them160. Why not? We had the space. Better to look afterfewer species well than cram122 in a load of disparateunhappy animals to pander123 to decreasing public attentionspans. Besides, fishing cats are gorgeous, eye-catchingcreatures who warrant a sanctuary124 in their own right. Theirmarkings are like a big tabby crossed with a leopard, on abackground of golden greenish fur, and they sit by the sideof streams intently until some hapless fish passes below,when they dive in headfirst and snatch it up in their jaws125.
Other cats, like tigers and jaguars126, will go into water, butfishing cats specialize in it, wading128 around like fools evenwhen they are not hunting, apparently indifferent to the factthat cats don’t do that. I was delighted we were gettingsomething so exotic and worthwhile, and though this was aproject for the (not too distant) future, I kept the husbandrymanual on my desk where I could see it, as a moralebooster.
Another happy by-product129 of being given this paper wasthat it led me to discover, firsthand, what happens WhenPorcupines Go Bad. I always delight in being humbled132 byanimals, something for which, happily, this job providesample opportunities. One night I couldn’t sleep because I’dhad a “brain wave” about the fishing cats. The husbandryrequirements told me that, among other things, these rarelittle beasts like to live with running water. Their wetlandhabitat, being reduced across Asia, is often converted topaddy fields: water based, but not moving water. Our site isawash with water running off Dartmoor, and there areseveral places where natural rivers seed, sometimesrunning into one of the two lakes or the two moatedenclosures, but often just creating boggy133 ground inunderused areas. With these rivers formalized into properwaterways, they could be made into features, and even bea source (on a small scale, for lighting perhaps) ofhydroelectric power. They would also benefit the fishingcats, whose enclosure could be built to follow the contoursof a living stream.
I had a hunch134 where the best place for this would be, inwhat I still liked to call the giraffe field, but is now “the smallcats field,” where it borders the walk-in enclosurecontaining the flamingo lake. This is where Owen wantedthe mangrove swamp for his birds, and the husbandryguide informed me that fishing cats also love mangroves,which are, I’d discovered, themselves “Threatened,”
according to the IUCN. At this crux135 between enclosures, anatural spring bursts out from boggy ground to babble136 intothe lake amidst a thicket137 of brambles and overgrown exoticplants. It was for this thicket that I set out at three in themorning wearing a headlamp and carrying a notebook, todo a feasibility study for a snaking fishing-cat enclosure,ending in a continuation of Owen’s mangroves for his birdsin the flamingo lake (obviously the mangroves for the birdsand the cats would need to be segregated138, or the tenure139 ofthe birds, and indeed the birds themselves, would be shortlived).
After an hour or so of getting my feet wet and my armsscratched, I retired, satisfied that this was an ideal place towork back from to instigate140 a small river, which could in turnrun through a futuristic, twenty-first-century fishing-catenclosure. I stood in the field and sketched141 a few ideas bythe light of the headlamp, and stretched and yawned,knowing that now I could sleep. But I thought I might make asedentary detour142 to the top corner of the walk-in, where theporcupines live (another enclosure in need of revamping,but adequate and some way down the list). I had been inwith the porcupines130 a few times with several differentkeepers, most recently with Steve, the curator, helping143 tohaul some huge pieces of fresh wood on which theseglorified rodents144 like to gnaw146, to keep their constantlygrowing beaverlike incisors in check. Every time, indaylight, Mr. and Mrs. Porcupine131, as they are known, hadkept to themselves and stayed in their house while theirenclosure was cleaned or revamped, their natural shynessand nocturnal lifestyle keeping them indoors, so that thedoor never needed to be secured during our forays intotheir backyard.
I nonchalantly vaulted147 over the fence to collect some oftheir many fallen quills149 littering the ground, which oftenrotted into the earth before they could be salvaged150.
Porcupine quills are particularly lovely objects, almost likepolitically acceptable, harvestable ivory. Some are twelveinches long, narrow with perfectly symmetrical bands ofcream and brown, others as small as three inches, fat as apen in the middle and virtually monochromatic151. No two arethe same, except that each one ends in an exceptionallysharp point, with a small barb152 that leaves it sticking intoyour skin, as I had previously153 discovered from cleaningthem too carelessly under the tap. They are sometimesused for the tops of fishing floats, or by calligraphers tomount nibs154, or just a handful in a jar as decoration. Theywere once sold in the park shop until health and safetyfears prevented it, but I was collecting them because, if youget one the right size, the blunt end that used to attach tothe porcupine’s skin makes a particularly good stylus for amodern mobile phone. I’d lost my original stylus and brokenthe last quill148 I’d used for the job, which I’d collected from theenclosure, cleaned up, and cut down to size.
Now it was my turn to be cut down to size. As Irummaged nonchalantly in the dirt, Mr. Porcupine camebustling out of his house, his bristling156 quills shimmering157 inthe lamplight. I was surprised at how active he seemed, butunflustered, as I had been in the enclosure several timesbefore without incident. But that was in daylight, when Mr.
Porcupine had better things to do, like snuggle up(carefully, I presume) asleep with Mrs. Porcupine. Now Iwas on his patch, in his garden, on his time, and he didn’tlike it. As he paced up and down I gave him more space,with the result that he soon had me herded158 into a corner. Atwhich point he turned his back to me at a distance of aboutthree yards, then reversed at high speed, brandishing159 hismotile array of beautiful barbs160 like a lethal161 Red Indianheaddress. I just had time to register the extent of hisdispleasure, and the unacceptable consequences ofstaying where I was, before it was time to act, and I foundmyself scrambling162 backward in the dark, over the fence,and falling heavily on my rear into a patch of nettles163 on theother side. The nettles went up my sweater and stung mecomprehensively before I could scrabble myself away.
Ouch, ouch, OUCH. I stood up and laughed with newesteem for this pint-sized animal pincushion. I had beentotally trounced by what is technically an elaborate rodent145.
Mr. Porcupine, one; Mr. Zoo Director, nil164. Respect.
“TOURETTE TONY”
I was introduced to Tony perhaps a week after Katherinedied, while I was walking around the park with the children.
This was before Katherine’s funeral, and everyone wasgiving me lots of space, but a couple of people from the filmcrew who had shad-owed me since before the purchase,and who were booked to stay until after the opening day(should it ever arrive) came over tentatively and said thatthere was someone, if I felt up to it, I ought to meet. We’dhired a digger, a full-size JCB excavator, and the operator,Tony, who had been on site for about a week, had beenmaking a good impression with everybody. Thezookeepers liked him, the maintenance guys liked him, thefilm crew liked him, and he could handle the digger like itwas an extension of himself. Clearing huge swathes ofscrub and rubble165 with deft166 efficiency, then moving it intoapparently inaccessible167 areas with the grace of a ballerina,and without damaging anything, deploying168 the vast half-tonbucket on the mechanical dinosaur169 arm to carry out aprocedure delicate enough to make a heart surgeon miss abeat. So he could handle a digger. He could also handlepeople, and by now, people issues were beginning tosurface.
The new crew wasn’t getting on that well with the oldcrew, whom they regarded with suspicion as potentialcollaborators in the alleged170 transgressions171 of the oldregime, rumors172 about which were rife173 in the zoo world.
None of the new people had ever worked in a place likethis, which was pretty Wild West compared to the pristine,regimented environments through whose ranks they hadprogressed. But Tony had. During his seventeen years as ahired digger hand, Tony had worked in much worse, andwas making no secret about wanting a full-time job with us.
And we needed a head of maintenance. John was multiskilledand able to fabricate or repair pretty well anything ona shoestring174, but by his own admission, paperwork was nothis strong point. We had to have someone in charge whocould cope with the order forms, file receipts, and managea budget, which goes with running a busy maintenancedepartment in a modern zoo. I spoke24 to John, who said, “Ifthat bloke wants a job I’d vouch175 for him and be more thanhappy to work under him,” which seemed positive. Tonywas also a trained mechanic, welder176, marksman, and anassistant Olympic archery coach, keen to set up lessons atthe park should there be a demand. Having not beenaround, I asked various people what they thought, and itwas unanimous. Everyone wanted Tony, and I did too. Thefilm crew asked if they could film me from a distance talkingto him and taking him on, so I conducted an informalinterview next to the JCB to sound him out, making surethat his approach to handling people fitted in with ourneeds, then took him on with a shake of the hand.
Immediately Tony became an invaluable177 member of theteam, cheering people up, nudging them along, and usinghis technical skills with great efficiency.
And after he started, it transpired178 that Tony had anotherspecial skill: swearing. From my time working on buildingsites many years ago I’d noticed that prolific81 swearing wasbasically the dialect in which the building trade operates.
It’s even in the terminology179. Cement is shite; nothing is “notstraight,” it’s pissed. Swear words are even used as fillerswhen people can’t think of what else to say, as in anexample I remember from my first day on a bricklayingtraining course. The man working next to me asked, “Canyou pass the, er, fucking, the, er, fucking, the fuckinghammer?” That seemed about par6 for the course: roughlyone in three or four words was a profanity of some sort.
Tony, as a senior veteran of the game and former soldier,had got his average swear rate up to one in two onoccasion, though he sometimes lapsed180 back to one inthree.
Tony’s speech is not just littered but positively181 crowdedout with expletives, but if you accept that and listen carefullythere is an almost poetic182 quality to some of his utterances183.
Once he cornered me to share his concerns that ouradvertising strategy needed to be wider than the medium ofprint. What he actually said was “Not every fucker reads thefucking paper. I was in the fucking paper the other day, Ithought, fuck me every cunt’s going to be taking the piss.
Fuck me if only one fucker did. I thought, fucking hell.” Notquite Guild184 of Poetry, perhaps, but pithy185 nevertheless. Hewas christened “Tourette Tony” (or sometimes simply“Fucking Tony,” to distinguish him from “Kiosk Tony,” whocame later), and appointed himself “Chairman of the DZPTourette Club.”
Before Katherine died, I would be out there, listening toeverybody, trying to build bridges, trying to make sure thateverybody got talking again. After Katherine died, I was outthere again, eventually, watching from close up but at whatseemed like an extreme distance, not even able to musterthe energy for contempt at the pathetic bickering, whichdaily demonstrated that even Milo and Ella exhibited moreself-awareness. There was so much to do, and such aclear, straight line in which to proceed, and to squander186 somuch energy on such petty issues seemed like a crime.
Everybody with any business experience that I spoke toassured me that “staff” were always a big headache, but inmy acutely distanced state, this seemed to me ultimatelylike a crime against the animals. Yet, in any kind of crisis,all pettiness was put to one side and everybody pulledtogether with resolute187, practical professionalism.
Like the day they came to get the two jaguars, and it verynearly all went wrong.
One day early on, it was time to move the two femalejaguars. This was a momentous188 occasion for us, because itwas something I had agreed to with Peter Wearden at thecouncil and Mike Thomas, and I knew that the entire zoocommunity was watching. It could never have happenedunder the old regime, and though it was a difficult bullet forus to bite, the two beautiful jaguars were going to apurpose-built big-cat park, where they would live in a brandnewenclosure, owned and run by a senior member ofBIAZA. We were paying our dues. The jags would be betteroff, and we would be better off without the constant risk oftheir escaping. According to what people said, we mayeven get some zebras in return, somewhere down the line.
And when it was over, the keepers would get to demolishthe much-hated, dilapidated wooden house for the jags,which they had been wanting to do for so long.
It had been mooted189 by one or two people that we couldactually sell the jags, worth several thousand pounds each,to a private collector who could hold them perfectly legally,with the right facilities, under the Dangerous Wild AnimalsAct. Much as we needed the money, we also wanted to dothe right thing. Under such scrutiny190, now was not the time todeviate from the script. I was also looking forward to seeinghow another team from an established mainstream191 zoo,Thrigby Hall, in Norwich, would operate—and initially, I wasnot disappointed.
An immaculate, anonymous192 white van arrived, exactlylike a plumber193 might use (though these guys arrived whenthey said they would), and two unbelievably grizzled rangersemerged from it, clad entirely in green, apart from oldbrown boots, the mandatory195 dog-eared Indiana Jones hats,and leather pouches196 on their belts. Their weather-beatenfaces and clothing made them seem a part of the woodlandaround the jag house, almost as if they were covered inmoss, or a wren197 might fly out of one of their beards. LikeBob Lawrence, who had come down from the Midlands todart Sovereign for us, these two looked like they’d seen itall before and could cope with anything.
So we were surprised when they produced woodencrates from the back of the van, which didn’t look quite upto the specifications199 for holding jaguars. Rob, as headkeeper, raised this with them. “Don’t you worry, we’vemoved countless200 jags in these crates,” they assured us.
One of the boxes was newer than the other, made fromheavy-duty marine201 plywood, and this was deployed202 first.
Positioned inside the jag house against the solid steel gateinto the enclosure, it was nailed in place with big battens toprevent it moving should the first jag not enter cleanly, orbegin to struggle. Kelly called her with the usual promise offood in the house, the gate was raised, the cat jumped in,and the door of the box was shut behind her. As simple asthat. There were no windows in this box, but a heavy-gaugemesh door to provide light. We carried the box down to thevan and loaded it in like removal men carrying a tea chestof crockery—easy does it, but no problem at all. The onlydifference was that you really had to concentrate onkeeping your fingers away from the mesh204 on the door, orthey’d be ripped off and eaten in an instant.
The ease of this move gave us confidence, though thesecond crate198 looked less suitable than the first. It had awindow about a foot square in the roof panel, secured withtwo layers of wire mesh: one on the outside, and one on theinside. Again the construction was marine ply4, though mucholder and more worn. Again Rob raised his doubts,particularly about the strength of the mesh on the window,which looked bent205 and was of a lighter206 gauge203 than that onthe door. “Are you sure these boxes aren’t for pumas207?” hesaid, but again was reassured208, somewhat tetchily this time,that everything was under control. We consulted with eachother and decided209 to give the rangers194 the benefit of thedoubt, even though the jaguar127 is much stronger than apuma—stronger than a leopard—and had the mostpowerful weight-to-jaw-strength ratio of any of the big cats.
This enables them to bite through turtle shells and huntlarger prey210 such as deer (and if you are unlucky, man), bypuncturing the skull211 directly with its canines212. We really didn’twant her to get out of the box.
The same procedure of lining213 up and nailing down thebox was followed. Kelly called the cat, who, anxious forfood, readily jumped in, and the door was closed behindher. And then it started to go wrong. This was the grumpysister, and she wasn’t at all pleased about her confinement,or being tricked, or us peering down at her through thewindow in the roof panel. Immediately she began thrashingaround with that almost supernatural strength of a wildanimal, and began using her primary weapon, thoseawesome jaws, on the mesh that separated us. Upsettingly,the first layer began to yield right away. Her teeth, herflashing eyes, the primal214 guttural noises emerging from thebox, which was bucking215—though not buckling216, I waspleased to notice—suddenly all seemed reminiscent of thescene at the beginning of Jurassic Park, where some largecreature exerts far stronger forces on its holding bay thananticipated. Somebody dies in that scene, and though wewere a long way from that possibility at the moment, itwould definitely raise its head if we didn’t get the next bitright. In fact, our worst-case scenario217 was simply to openthe door of the crate and let the jaguar back into theenclosure so that the men of the woods would have tocome another day. But if we delayed too long, it looked likethe jag could definitely burst out of her window to be amongus, and may not be tempted218 by the prospect of going backinto her enclosure. Before that happened, the four or fivepeople in the jag house could, obviously, clear out in timeso that the house could be secured—if not, the redoubtableJohn on firearms would have to shoot her, which would notbe a good result. This was a plan that could conceivably gowrong at some stage—those unknown unknowns again—and we had to act decisively to minimize the risk to thepeople and the animal, who could easily hurt herself if shecontinued chewing on the mesh.
Time shrank down so that every second was precious,eked out in a serious group analysis of the situation. If thefirst mesh went down, we would open the gate into theenclosure and exit the building, closing the door behind us.
Before that happened, though, we had time, we calculated,to reinforce the window, so that the transfer could proceedas planned. It was not a full Code Red yet, but it had all theingredients needed to become one.
Someone suggested sliding some metal slats under thetop mesh, to be gripped by the bolted fixings securing it,and I ran to the workshop, fortunately only a few yards away,with Paul and Andy Goatman, the young knacker man, whohad been making a delivery and is always good in a crisis.
It was a good thing the workshop was now functioning, atleast to some degree. Paul quickly found some suitablemetal slats and began cutting them to length with the newlyrelocated bench-mounted grinder, pretty well our only tool.
Andy and I rummaged155 amongst the old agriculturalmiscellanea in the three-quarters cleared loft219 for a hook, orsomething that could be made into a hook, to pull the topmesh on the box clear of the plywood roof and to insert theslats underneath220 without losing a finger. I think in the end weused one of the slats, modified at the end to make a hook,and it was successfully deployed. Somebody stronghooked it into the wire to raise it the necessary millimeters,and the slats were inserted one by one. As they went in, theJurassic Park scenario still loomed221 large, but the jaguargradually became calmer, and so did we. When the lightwent out above her, she stopped thrashing entirely, thoughcontinued her low, disturbing growl222. The rangers said theywere happy, and we loaded her into the van without furtherincident.
As they drove away I marveled at the fact that rearendingthis particular white van could potentially haveterrible unforeseen consequences for the averageunsuspecting motorist, unleashing223 two extremely unsettledmiddleweight predators224 onto the hood225 of his car. Armedpolice along the route had been alerted, but their responsetime, measured in minutes, would not do much to reassurethose possibly already injured people on the scene. But thatwas now no longer our problem. In fact the nine-hourjourney would go without a hitch226, the two jaguars would besuccessfully relocated to a much more suitableenvironment, and we would be left with a tranquil61, emptyenclosure that had previously been a source of muchconcern.
During the fray, with the cat box bucking in thebackground, I had joked to Andy that if he had any extraguns lying around, now might be a good time to deploythem. Afterward227, as everyone was packing up, Andyshowed me that in the midst of the situation he’d slid his.357 Magnum revolver into his trouser pocket. Issued forkilling livestock228 above a certain size, four of the sixchambers were blanked off by law, because if you can’t killa bullock with two shots from this piece, you’re in the wrongjob. These two enormous slugs, in the hands of someonewho could hold his nerve, were, retrospectively, intenselyreassuring to me. I liked the fact that should things gowrong, there were people equipped and prepared tointervene. If somehow everything had all gone pear-shaped,and if John had slipped in the wet leaves at a critical time, itwas good to know that somebody like Andy was there.
Officially, Andy was not a designated firearms officer forthe site, and the correct procedure, should the cat have gotpast us, would have been to notify the police, whosenearest firearms unit was about five miles away. I preferredknowing that we had backup on the ground, but this was yetanother entirely new world for me: real guns, big ones,deployed in the routine procedures of everyday work. Withguns come danger, both in their handling and in the natureof the reasons for their deployment229; if you need guns,something pretty heavy must be going down.
I cornered Andy and asked him to show me his gun. Hepulled it out of his pocket, checked the safety, and slipped itinto my hand. It was a solid steel .357 Magnum with a threeinchbarrel, iconic from countless crime and cop films, herebattered and worn, used as an agricultural tool. And it feltlike a tool, heavy with precision engineering, unremittinglypurposeful. Much as it scared me, I could see that to do thisjob properly I would have to get my firearms license. Itrusted myself to be able to shoot a tiger on the loosewithout panicking (until afterward), and we needed all thecover we could get. And I also made a mental note never toget into an argument with Andy Goatman.
LICENSED230 TO CULLWhen we arrived in October, the vervet monkeys werefighting— kept in a tiny cage with a concrete floor and a fewold bits of rope covered in years of grime. Two rathertruculent adolescent males were being ostracized232 by thealpha male for not showing sufficient respect, and out of alittle bit of preemptive vindictiveness233 on his part. Theyrisked serious injury if they remained in such a smallenclosure with him. We tried to find homes for them, butnobody wanted them. Vervets are common—classed inSouth Africa as vermin—so two boisterous234 young malesare very difficult to rehouse in Western zoos. The ethicalreview process—whereby the vet45, the council, a senioremployee from another zoo, and some of our ownemployees meet to discuss the best course of action—concluded that we should resort to euthanasia: basically,taking them somewhere and shooting them in the head.
“Absolutely not,” I said as the solitary235 non-zooprofessional but the one with the deciding vote. He’ll learn, Icould see them thinking, but I was determined236 that the twomonkeys shouldn’t die for the sake of convenience. Ifnecessary, we’d build another enclosure, an idea that wentdown like a lead balloon, since it would take resourcesfrom other, more exotic animals we could get in the future.
The two monkeys were rehoused temporarily in the largecinder-block molting237 sheds, known as Conway Row, whichwere part of the license requirement to house working birdsof prey so that they can shed their feathers in comfort. Aswe didn’t have any of these—our eagles, eagle owls, andCoco the caracara were all long since retired from publicduties—the huge sheds, four large, terraced chambers,were free. One was made monkey proof and decked outwith some branches and straw for enrichment and warmth,and the two ostracized adolescent males were netted,transported in cat boxes, and introduced to their new home.
It wasn’t ideal, and it presented me with a new front inresisting the orthodox opinion—which felt like a thin line totread in the circumstances.
But at least the monkeys wouldn’t be killed, and I wasabsolutely certain about my position. It gave me theconfidence to realize that, though esteemed238 andimpeccably well-intentioned, the zoo community was notnecessarily always right, and if I felt morally obliged, I couldand should challenge it. The last thing I wanted to do wascreate the impression of an amateur maverick239 who wouldn’tlisten to the experienced professionals around me, butthere were some things where I simply felt I had to draw aline in the sand. “Those monkeys are standing between youand your license,” I was told on numerous occasions fromall my most trusted sources. But I countered with ideas oftwo separate communities of vervets, in different areas ofthe park, which could then be studied for differences indialects, for instance. As it happened, a paper on dialecticdifferences in vervet monkey calls had just been published,and I was able to argue that we could keep one trooproughly where they were while developing another group,out of earshot, who would be exposed to different stimuli240.
Like the eagle display, which could fly above theirenclosure. That would teach those naughty adolescenttroublemakers to form their own troop properly and get withthe program.
This may sound cruel, but it is normal for a vervet monkeyto be exposed to predators—from the ground, from thetrees in the form of snakes, and from the air, several timesa day. It is their species-typical environment. This is whythey have evolved clearly distinct calls to indicate predatorsfrom above, causing the troop to take cover, or from theground, triggering a mass exodus241 to the trees, or for asnake in the tree, which tells everyone who needs to knowto get down onto the ground. These calls— their frequency,accuracy, and dialectic nuances—are currently beinginvestigated, and by running two populations of vervetsseparately exposed to different stimuli on the same park,there is every chance that we could contribute somethinguseful. More important for me, however, was that we hadinherited these monkeys and there was no way that wewere just going to kill them because we had been told by“experts” it was “for the best.”
This argument fell on deaf ears but was met with tacitcompliance. In the absence of funds to establish a secondmonkey enclosure, the two monkeys were fed, watered,and housed in Conway Row throughout the winter andspring of 2007. When I emerged from the house to startwork in the park again in April, it was still part of thekeepers’ routine to feed and care for these monkeys, butstill disapproved242 of roundly at a senior level, though thejunior keepers continued to work tirelessly to find newhomes for them. It seemed as though there was no way wewould get a zoo license if the National Zoo inspector243 foundthat we were indefinitely storing these animals off show inan enclosure not built for that purpose. The Conway Rowsheds are each nearly as large as the enclosure left to therest of the monkey troop, with branches inside to climb anda window the length of the front wall that gives a view overhills and trees. But they couldn’t stay there forever. With theamount of work we had to do to get the zoo ready for theinspection, it was impossible to build them a new enclosureyet, so the date for the euthanasia of the monkeys was setfor the week before the inspection, and the issue ran like asore with the experienced keepers, who felt that animals inimproper accommodation should not be kept, and I wassimply staving off the inevitable and prolonging theirsuffering.
But as it turned out, a few weeks later, well inside theinspection deadline, a small but well-run monkey sanctuaryunexpectedly stepped in to take them on, and the monkeysgot to live happily ever after, after all. I felt vindicated244, andratcheted up another notch245 of confidence in my overallapproach, which was to listen to all the expert opinion, thenmake the decision which required the least intervention inthe delicate ecosystem246 of the park, complete with all theanimals and staff we had inherited.
Initially, it seemed, this was a continuing theme; I had theimpression of being constantly enticed247 to cull231 from allquarters, both animals and staff. Several of our earlyadvisors had recommended sweeping248 the board, both of amajority of animals (to redesign the collection from scratch)and the staff. The ongoing problem with the wolves hadresulted in an order from the council to cull three of them toreduce overcrowding, which I was resisting. And as well asthe monkeys, there were two tigers in the frame, one ofwhom was ill with chronic249 kidney disease, another simplyvery old. As well as the old guard of employees, most ofwhom were constantly presented as mandatory candidatesfor dismissal from some quarter or other. But I didn’t wantto do this. There was a guiding principle at stake. Therewould be no deaths of animals, and no sackings if I couldhelp it, and everything we had inherited should betampered with as little as possible in order to achieve whatwe needed. As in any ecosystem, everything wasinterdependent, and until we understood exactly how it all fittogether, it was foolish to presume we could makesweeping changes without unforeseen consequences.
Even moving “inconvenient” animals had to be treatedwith caution. Although provisional homes had been foundfor a majority of the animals during the protracted250 processof the sale— and these were the animals it was suggestedwe rehouse in order to establish a new identity—I felt thatwe could easily go too far, and most of the animals couldbe happy where they were. Apart from that, there were localfavorites; people often phoned to ask if the otters251, or thefoxes, or the lynx or pumas were still there, because whenwe opened they would be back to see them.
And then there was the pressure to change the staff.
Because of their tremendous devotion to the tigers, andtheir occasional forays into sentimentality, Kelly andHannah, who had stuck with the animals through someextremely testing times, were denounced by senior zooestablishment figures I was in contact with as “bunnyhuggers.” This dismissive term is applied252 to zookeeperwannabes who don’t understand some of the harsh realitiesthat the job actually involves. But, hey, neither did I, and I’dbeen proved right with the monkeys already (and was laterto be further vindicated on the wolves and the tigers—andmost of the staff I defended). When I looked at Kelly andHannah I saw dedicated zookeepers, unqualified perhaps,but absolutely invaluable holders253 of knowledge about thespecific animals we had, and whom they had looked after,for several years in often intolerable circumstances. Theywere loyal (to the animals rather than us) and extremelyhardworking, and I was going to keep them and get themtrained up.
Another member of staff who came into the crosshairs afew times was Robin36. Lovely Robin, who I had first metwhen he challenged me and Nick Lindsay on that firstformative walk-around, was difficult to pigeonhole254. Havingworked on the park as a bird and reptile255 keeper as well asgraphic designer, in later years he had been used as EllisDaw’s personal assistant in writing his memoirs256. For thelast two years, this had largely meant sifting257 through fourdecades’ worth of dusty local papers and magazines forclippings that mentioned the park. Robin had set about thiswith due diligence, but I think it is fair to say that it had wornhim down. When Duncan first met Robin, he came to meafterward and said, “I think Robin is clinically depressed258.”
Duncan had gone over to Robin, still processing oldnewspapers, on our first or second day and asked himwhat he was doing. On hearing the explanation, Duncan puthis hand on Robin’s shoulder and said, “You can stop now.
You don’t have to do that anymore.” With a half-turned pagein his hand, it took Robin more than a moment or two toabsorb the enormity of these words, and us a bit longer towork out where he could be fruitfully deployed.
It turned out that Robin had many useful skills, which weresoon unearthed259, and one of the first was administrationconcerning the license application. He was offered a placein the office to work, but preferred to spend his time at atable by the restaurant instead. Though a horrible room, itwas spacious260 and had good views and natural light, whichthe office lacked. He got on with his new work at his ownpace, which was efficient if not frenetic, stopping for hishalf-hour lunch break every day with his thermos261 and radioat exactly one o’clock.
Now, one day early on, Katherine, accompanied by mymum and Jen, Mike Thomas’s wife, had decided, in thatway that strong women do, to take matters into their ownhands with regard to the restaurant. A huge open space forthree hundred diners, it was choked with old Formicadisplay cabinets for leaflets, the scattered262 remnants ofthose leaflets, the piles of old newspapers, yellowed fallenlight fittings, tables stacked on top of each other amidstpiles of chairs and a stuffed tiger, all coated in a layer ofairborne grease. As these three female whirlwinds ofindustry set about clearing up and sorting out, working up asweat, their certainty enhanced with every radical decisionthey made and every heavy piece of furniture they lifted,one of them was finally moved to ask Robin, on his lunchbreak looking out of the window, exactly what he was doing.
“Well, I’m just counting the peacocks out on the drive,” hesaid, before helpfully adding, “There are twelve. But it wasfourteen yesterday.” This was very much the wrong answer.
I have been around enough fussing strong women—sue me—to know that you never admit to any kind of whimsy263 whenthey are working and you are apparently in repose264. What heshould have said was, “I was calculating how long we hadto submit the license application for the establishedbusiness plan to remain viable265.” But the damage was done,and Robin was unceremoniously added to the list ofendangered creatures on the premises266.
But by now it didn’t matter. I was used to opposition267. Itwas the natural state. Robin turned out to have, amongother things, draftsmanship skills, which have so far savedus thousands of pounds, as well as a knowledge of the parkand certain animals within it, which is irreplaceable. He isnow comfortably employed in a site of his own choosing, aloft adjacent to the maintenance room called Robin’s Nest,where he fabricates small items like signs and cages forsmall animals, draws up architectural standard plans fornew enclosures, and answers several otherwiseunanswerable queries268 a day through the two-way radiosystem. He seems happy. And we are happy with him.
This sort of holding on to the past while acknowledgingthe future is the balancing act we must play. Our littleecosystem is now part of a global network of conservationfacilities and programs, and it is up to us in the longer termhow much of a part we play in it. Starting almost fromscratch as we have done, with an amateur-enthusiast eye,we are in a good position to innovate269. And on the ground,the rewards of sharing this environment with tens ofthousands of people a year are uplifting.
Many of my friends from London are unrepentanturbanites, buying designer woollies to visit and only puttingthem on again to go to a WOMAD or Glastonbury festival.
But all are uplifted by their visit in a way that transcendssimple excitement at seeing such a big project movingforward. It’s the animals and the trees that reach into a partof them that cannot be stimulated270 in Soho.
Woody Allen said, “Nature and I are two.” Funny, butwrong. A surprising amount of this archetypal urbanite’sdialogue is delivered in walks through Central Park, whichhas, unconsciously or not, been designed to simulate ourevolutionary species-typical environment. I felt, andcontinue to feel, a missionary271 zeal272 about exposing as muchof the population as is feasible to this experience.
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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3
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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4
ply
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| v.(搬运工等)等候顾客，弯曲 | |
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5
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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6
par
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| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
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7
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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8
intrigued
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| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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9
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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10
bickering
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| v.争吵( bicker的现在分词 )；口角；（水等）作潺潺声；闪烁 | |
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11
owls
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| n.猫头鹰( owl的名词复数 ) | |
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12
license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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13
activists
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| n.（政治活动的）积极分子，活动家( activist的名词复数 ) | |
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14
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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15
straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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16
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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17
bonanza
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| n.富矿带，幸运，带来好运的事 | |
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18
participation
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| n.参与，参加，分享 | |
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19
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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20
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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21
oversee
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| vt.监督，管理 | |
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22
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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23
busting
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| 打破，打碎( bust的现在分词 )； 突击搜查（或搜捕）； （使）降级，降低军阶 | |
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24
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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25
assertive
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| adj.果断的，自信的，有冲劲的 | |
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26
portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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27
flamingo
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| n.红鹳，火烈鸟 | |
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28
aviary
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| n.大鸟笼，鸟舍 | |
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29
mangrove
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|
| n.(植物)红树，红树林 | |
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30
implement
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| n.(pl.)工具，器具；vt.实行，实施，执行 | |
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31
clutter
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|
| n.零乱，杂乱；vt.弄乱，把…弄得杂乱 | |
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32
ebbed
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的过去式和过去分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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33
algae
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| n.水藻，海藻 | |
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34
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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35
initially
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| adv.最初，开始 | |
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36
robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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37
qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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38
trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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39
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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40
venue
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| n.犯罪地点，审判地，管辖地，发生地点，集合地点 | |
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41
entity
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| n.实体，独立存在体，实际存在物 | |
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42
accounting
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| n.会计，会计学，借贷对照表 | |
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43
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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44
scrap
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|
| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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45
vet
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| n.兽医，退役军人；vt.检查 | |
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46
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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47
catering
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| n. 给养 | |
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48
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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49
aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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50
intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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51
full-time
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| adj.满工作日的或工作周的，全时间的 | |
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52
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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53
entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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54
crunch
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|
| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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55
radical
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|
| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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56
standing
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|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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57
otter
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| n.水獭 | |
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58
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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59
disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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60
folly
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|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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61
tranquil
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|
| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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62
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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63
beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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64
bloody
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|
| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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65
stash
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| v.藏或贮存于一秘密处所；n.隐藏处 | |
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66
barrage
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| n.火力网，弹幕 | |
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67
utterly
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|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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68
retired
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|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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69
delved
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| v.深入探究，钻研( delve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
credentials
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| n.证明，资格，证明书，证件 | |
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71
administrative
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| adj.行政的，管理的 | |
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72
licensing
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|
| v.批准，许可，颁发执照( license的现在分词 ) | |
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73
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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74
propensity
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| n.倾向；习性 | |
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75
perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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76
undoubtedly
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|
| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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77
pints
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|
| n.品脱( pint的名词复数 )；一品脱啤酒 | |
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78
martial
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|
| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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79
ruptured
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|
| v.（使）破裂( rupture的过去式和过去分词 )；（使体内组织等）断裂；使（友好关系）破裂；使绝交 | |
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80
prolifically
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|
| adv.多产地，丰富地 | |
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81
prolific
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|
| adj.丰富的，大量的；多产的，富有创造力的 | |
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82
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
trolley
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|
| n.手推车，台车；无轨电车；有轨电车 | |
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84
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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85
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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86
quenched
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|
| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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87
tanker
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| n.油轮 | |
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88
versatile
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|
| adj.通用的，万用的；多才多艺的，多方面的 | |
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89
perfectly
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|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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90
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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91
leftover
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|
| n.剩货，残留物，剩饭；adj.残余的 | |
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92
fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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93
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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94
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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95
ongoing
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| adj.进行中的，前进的 | |
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96
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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97
conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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98
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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99
bolster
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| n.枕垫；v.支持，鼓励 | |
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100
radius
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| n.半径，半径范围；有效航程，范围，界限 | |
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101
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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102
fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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103
folders
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| n.文件夹( folder的名词复数 )；纸夹；（某些计算机系统中的）文件夹；页面叠 | |
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104
workload
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| n.作业量，工作量 | |
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105
creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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106
journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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107
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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108
stapled
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| v.用钉书钉钉住( staple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
photocopy
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| n.影印本；v.影印 | |
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110
format
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| n.设计，版式；[计算机]格式，DOS命令:格式化(磁盘)，用于空盘或使用过的磁盘建立新空盘来存储数据；v.使格式化，设计，安排 | |
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111
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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112
reminder
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|
| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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113
sliver
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| n.裂片，细片，梳毛；v.纵切，切成长片，剖开 | |
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114
scribbling
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|
| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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115
leopard
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| n.豹 | |
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116
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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117
tricky
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| adj.狡猾的，奸诈的；(工作等)棘手的，微妙的 | |
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118
tiffs
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| n.争吵( tiff的名词复数 )；（酒的）一口；小饮 | |
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119
encroachment
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| n.侵入，蚕食 | |
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120
captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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121
avidly
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| adv.渴望地，热心地 | |
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122
cram
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| v.填塞，塞满，临时抱佛脚，为考试而学习 | |
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123
pander
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| v.迎合；n.拉皮条者，勾引者；帮人做坏事的人 | |
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124
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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125
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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126
jaguars
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| n.（中、南美洲的）美洲虎( jaguar的名词复数 ) | |
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127
jaguar
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| n.美洲虎 | |
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128
wading
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的现在分词 ) | |
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129
by-product
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| n.副产品，附带产生的结果 | |
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130
porcupines
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| n.豪猪，箭猪( porcupine的名词复数 ) | |
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131
porcupine
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| n.豪猪， 箭猪 | |
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132
humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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133
boggy
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| adj.沼泽多的 | |
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134
hunch
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| n.预感，直觉 | |
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135
crux
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| adj.十字形；难事，关键，最重要点 | |
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136
babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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137
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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138
segregated
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| 分开的； 被隔离的 | |
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139
tenure
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| n.终身职位；任期；(土地)保有权，保有期 | |
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140
instigate
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| v.教唆，怂恿，煽动 | |
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141
sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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142
detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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143
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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144
rodents
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| n.啮齿目动物( rodent的名词复数 ) | |
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145
rodent
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| n.啮齿动物；adj.啮齿目的 | |
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146
gnaw
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| v.不断地啃、咬；使苦恼，折磨 | |
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147
vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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148
quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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149
quills
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| n.（刺猬或豪猪的）刺( quill的名词复数 )；羽毛管；翮；纡管 | |
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150
salvaged
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| （从火灾、海难等中）抢救（某物）( salvage的过去式和过去分词 )； 回收利用（某物） | |
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151
monochromatic
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| adj.单色的，一色的 | |
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152
barb
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| n.（鱼钩等的）倒钩，倒刺 | |
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153
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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154
nibs
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| 上司，大人物； 钢笔尖，鹅毛管笔笔尖( nib的名词复数 )； 可可豆的碎粒； 小瑕疵 | |
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155
rummaged
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的过去式和过去分词 )； 已经海关检查 | |
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156
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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157
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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158
herded
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| 群集，纠结( herd的过去式和过去分词 )； 放牧； （使）向…移动 | |
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159
brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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160
barbs
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| n.（箭头、鱼钩等的）倒钩( barb的名词复数 )；带刺的话；毕露的锋芒；钩状毛 | |
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161
lethal
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| adj.致死的；毁灭性的 | |
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162
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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163
nettles
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| n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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164
nil
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| n.无，全无，零 | |
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165
rubble
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| n.（一堆）碎石，瓦砾 | |
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166
deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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167
inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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168
deploying
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| （尤指军事行动）使展开( deploy的现在分词 )； 施展； 部署； 有效地利用 | |
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169
dinosaur
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| n.恐龙 | |
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170
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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171
transgressions
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| n.违反，违法，罪过( transgression的名词复数 ) | |
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172
rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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173
rife
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| adj.(指坏事情)充斥的，流行的，普遍的 | |
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174
shoestring
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| n.小额资本；adj.小本经营的 | |
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175
vouch
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| v.担保；断定；n.被担保者 | |
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176
welder
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| n电焊工 | |
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177
invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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178
transpired
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| （事实，秘密等）被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 )； 泄露； 显露； 发生 | |
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179
terminology
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| n.术语；专有名词 | |
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180
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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181
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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182
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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183
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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184
guild
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| n.行会，同业公会，协会 | |
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185
pithy
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| adj.(讲话或文章)简练的 | |
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186
squander
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| v.浪费，挥霍 | |
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187
resolute
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|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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188
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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189
mooted
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|
| adj.未决定的，有争议的，有疑问的v.提出…供讨论( moot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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190
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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191
mainstream
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| n.（思想或行为的）主流；adj.主流的 | |
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192
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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193
plumber
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| n.(装修水管的)管子工 | |
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194
rangers
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| 护林者( ranger的名词复数 )； 突击队员 | |
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195
mandatory
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| adj.命令的；强制的；义务的；n.受托者 | |
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196
pouches
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| n.（放在衣袋里或连在腰带上的）小袋( pouch的名词复数 )；（袋鼠等的）育儿袋；邮袋；（某些动物贮存食物的）颊袋 | |
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197
wren
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| n.鹪鹩；英国皇家海军女子服务队成员 | |
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198
crate
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| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
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199
specifications
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| n.规格；载明；详述；（产品等的）说明书；说明书( specification的名词复数 )；详细的计划书；载明；详述 | |
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200
countless
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|
| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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201
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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202
deployed
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| （尤指军事行动）使展开( deploy的过去式和过去分词 )； 施展； 部署； 有效地利用 | |
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203
gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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204
mesh
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| n.网孔，网丝，陷阱；vt.以网捕捉，啮合，匹配；vi.适合； [计算机]网络 | |
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205
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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206
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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207
pumas
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| n.美洲狮( puma的名词复数 )；彪马；于1948年成立于德国荷索金劳勒(Herzogenaurach)的国际运动品牌；创始人：鲁道夫及达斯勒。 | |
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208
reassured
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|
| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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209
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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210
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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211
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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212
canines
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| n.犬齿( canine的名词复数 )；犬牙；犬科动物 | |
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213
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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214
primal
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| adj.原始的；最重要的 | |
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215
bucking
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| v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的现在分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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216
buckling
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| 扣住 | |
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217
scenario
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| n.剧本，脚本；概要 | |
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218
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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219
loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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220
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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221
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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222
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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223
unleashing
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| v.把（感情、力量等）释放出来，发泄( unleash的现在分词 ) | |
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224
predators
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| n.食肉动物( predator的名词复数 )；奴役他人者（尤指在财务或性关系方面） | |
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225
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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226
hitch
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| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
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227
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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228
livestock
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| n.家畜，牲畜 | |
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229
deployment
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| n. 部署,展开 | |
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230
licensed
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| adj.得到许可的v.许可，颁发执照(license的过去式和过去分词) | |
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231
cull
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| v.拣选；剔除；n.拣出的东西；剔除 | |
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232
ostracized
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| v.放逐( ostracize的过去式和过去分词 )；流放；摈弃；排斥 | |
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233
vindictiveness
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| 恶毒；怀恨在心 | |
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234
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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235
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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236
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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237
molting
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| n.蜕皮v.换羽，脱毛( molt的现在分词 ) | |
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238
esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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239
maverick
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| adj.特立独行的；不遵守传统的；n.持异议者，自行其是者 | |
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240
stimuli
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| n.刺激（物） | |
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241
exodus
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| v.大批离去，成群外出 | |
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242
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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243
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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244
vindicated
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| v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的过去式和过去分词 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
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245
notch
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| n.(V字形)槽口，缺口，等级 | |
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246
ecosystem
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| n.生态系统 | |
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247
enticed
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| 诱惑，怂恿( entice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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248
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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249
chronic
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| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
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250
protracted
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|
| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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251
otters
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| n.（水）獭( otter的名词复数 )；獭皮 | |
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252
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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253
holders
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| 支持物( holder的名词复数 )； 持有者； （支票等）持有人； 支托（或握持）…之物 | |
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254
pigeonhole
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| n.鸽舍出入口；v.把...归类 | |
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255
reptile
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| n.爬行动物；两栖动物 | |
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256
memoirs
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| n.回忆录；回忆录传( mem,自oir的名词复数) | |
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257
sifting
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| n.筛，过滤v.筛( sift的现在分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
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258
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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259
unearthed
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| 出土的（考古） | |
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260
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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261
thermos
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| n.保湿瓶，热水瓶 | |
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262
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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263
whimsy
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| n.古怪，异想天开 | |
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264
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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265
viable
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| adj.可行的，切实可行的，能活下去的 | |
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266
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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267
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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268
queries
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| n.问题( query的名词复数 )；疑问；询问；问号v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的第三人称单数 )；询问 | |
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269
innovate
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| v.革新，变革，创始 | |
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270
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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271
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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272
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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