The workshop was churning out newly welded metalenclosure posts, big machines were laying new pathwaysbefore our eyes, and the restaurant was a teeming5 hive ofactivity. Spring was definitely in the air, and with it came theneed for some reversible vasectomies, as we didn’t yethave the paperwork or facilities for many of our animals tobreed. First in line was Zak, the elderly alpha wolf, whoseproblem actually looked more serious. One testicle hadswollen to the size of an avocado, and though this canhappen to wolves for short periods, Zak’s had beenengorged for several weeks and the vet6 thought he neededto be opened up. The vet room was still a work in progress,so the shop beside the restaurant was sterilized7 and sometables pushed together. On the allocated8 day, Zak wasdarted and went down easily. Though the van was inposition, the vet and Steve decided11 it was just as easy tocarry him the hundred yards or so to the mocked upoperating theater. In truth, if Zak had managed to get upand do a Tammy, no one would have been very scared. Atnineteen years old, even on his best day you could probablywalk faster than he could run, and he maintained his grip onthe pack now, not with brute12 force, but through sheercharisma and experience.
They arrived slightly breathless, and Zak was placed onhis back, cradled by two large plastic blocks with asemicircle cut out of them, a bit like a headsman’s block,specifically designed for keeping animals with ridgedspines steady on their backs. The blocks were well worn,and this procedure was fairly routine, though I asked howmany actual wolves the vet had done. “Oh, quite a few bynow. Don’t worry. No different from an Alsatian.” Likeanyone being prepared for an operation, Zak lookedpainfully exposed and vulnerable, and as he was shavedand washed in the relevant areas, waves of empathy fromthe men watching went out to him. The women presentfound our discomfort14 hugely amusing.
Once he was opened up, the avocado-size testicle wasinstantly declared cancerous, and its black and purplestriations clearly indicated the presence of this malignnemesis of so many animals and people. Luckily, evenwhen advanced, dogs and wolves hardly ever getsecondary cancers from the testicular region—unlikehumans. But the sound of a vas deferens, the small strandof connecting tissue between the testicle and the bodycavity, being cut, is not a pleasant one. There is muchcrunching of gristle, and much wincing16 and crossing of legsin the audience. His other testicle, pinkish white and normalsize—more like a big conker in the shape of a kidney bean—was also declared a potential health hazard, since itcould have been contaminated by its neighbor, and thesecond set of crunching15 and cutting was far worse, as itwas into healthy tissue. When the second ostensibly healthytesticle clanged into the metal dish, it was a poignantmoment, and every man present felt something, thoughexactly what, it was hard to pin down. Mainly, probably,never to let the medical profession anywhere near yourgonads. Though we had saved Zak so that he could live tolead the pack another day, it could hardly be described asa good day for him. But he made a full recovery, andworries that his empty scrotum might impinge on hisleadership abilities were unfounded, as Zak went on toprovide his pack, and his successor in waiting, the slightlypathetic Parker, with guidance and leadership for severalmore months.
Next in line was Solomon, king of the beasts, the hugelyimpressive male African lion. This really was a routinereversible vasectomy, as one day we will probably try tobreed from him, but at the moment the production of a lioncub would have been seen by the zoo world asirresponsible. Although slightly smaller than Vlad, Solomonis arguably the most impressive cat we have. At around230 kilos, or more than five hundred pounds, he, his mane,and his roar are truly epic17. Tigers don’t roar, but thisawesome sound is high in Solomon’s arsenal18 of weaponsof terror. I feel it is worth reiterating19 that, in nature, you don’tgenerally get to hear this sound from so close and live. AsSolomon blasted Steve with his Death Roar from theconfines of his house, his lips curled back revealing daggerteeth, presenting highly alarming visual as well as auditorystimuli, I watched Steve brace20 himself and resist thetemptation to back to the far wall of the narrow corridor.
Steve bided21 his time and soon got the dart10 in Solomon’sflank. When I next visited the scene, Solomon was out cold,the door was open, and the vet was stitching up the lion’sback end, utterly22 undaunted by the sheer scale of hispatient. I was not undaunted, however. Solomon’s flankswere absolutely huge, and the gory23 procedure going on inhis most intimate region would surely be a source ofdispleasure should he wake up. John was there on firearmsduty, but otherwise there was an open door between himand the park. When Kelly, positioned at the head endinside the enclosure (the other lions were locked away intheir parts of the house), started to report that he wasblinking—i.e., that the anaesthetic was beginning to wearoff—I looked for signs of panic, or at least increased workrate from the vet. After all, doing what he was doing, he’dprobably be number one on Solomon’s hit list should hecome around. But the vet remained unperturbed, andcontinued his methodical stitching as if he were operatingon a house cat in the comfort of his practice. A few minuteslater, it was done, and the vet and others stepped in withSolomon to microchip him and move him clear of the door.
This was also performed with nonchalance25, though perhapsnow just a hint of urgency. Then, mission accomplished,everyone stepped clear, the door was closed, and normalsecurity levels were resumed. And Solomon bounced backfrom his ordeal26 to happily fire off his blanks, in accordancewith our license27 requirements.
The final vasectomy, which I didn’t witness and was alittle uncomfortable about, was Vlad’s—again, carried outin his house, decreed from on high in case he impregnatedhis two sisters, the absurdly named Blotch28 and Stripe.
These three tigers were bred illegally and hand-reared,despite an obvious genetic29 defect in the line andoverrepresentation of this strain of Siberian tigers in thegene pool. This was one of the reasons Ellis, the previousowner, had run afoul of the authorities, and all three tigerswere classified as “Display Only,” and not to be bred from.
This I didn’t mind, but what bothered me was that tigers areparticularly susceptible30 to dying under anaesthetic. Vlad’sbrother, Ivan, had died during a routine procedure someyears before, and Tasmin’s heart had stopped somemonths before, while she was being investigated for anongoing kidney problem. In that instance, only Duncan’sfast response in alerting the vet, who was walking back tohis car at the time, saved her, and she was quickly giventhe antidote31 to bring her round. As Vlad’s amorous32 effortswith his sister had so far, in seven years, resulted in noillegal offspring, I was reluctant to have him tampered33 withat the possible risk of his life. I liked Vlad a lot—he is anice, friendly boy—and the machinery34 of state intervention35,coupled with a mild snobbery36 about his lack of strictzoological value, I felt, was exposing him to unnecessaryrisks. But by now I was a bit battle weary, and with my standon the wolves and monkeys and various other issues, itwas probably a good time to let a few slide past. Theoperation was a success, and Vlad returned to duty thenext day.
The money was ebbing37, but at last we had an inspectiondate, set for 4 June, which gave us an all-or-nothingdeadline to work toward. Everybody pitched in,occasionally getting a little high on resources, sending outfor new tools or equipment with relative abandon. The corestaff we had inherited were brilliant improvisers—they hadhad to be for many years as the fortunes of the parkdeclined. Instead of buying new metal bars, for instance, Iencouraged salvaging39 existing ones that were liberallyscattered around. There was an estimated acre of scrapbehind the restaurant, for instance, containing old cars,even lorries and the long-forgotten husk of an old dumpertruck, as well as perhaps twenty fridges, innumerable tiresand wheels, bits of wood, and a thousand other things“stored” for future use at some indefinite time in the future,which never came. We did a deal with a local scrapmerchant, who arrived with a large flatbed truck with agrabber on it and a mini digger (which he kindly41 lent to uswhen he wasn’t using it). The deal was that he could haveeverything, except the choicest bits of metal that we couldrecycle, in exchange for clearing the site. “No problem,” hesaid, delighted. “It’ll take about five days.” Nine weeks later,he was still loading up his lorry every day with more metalobjects dragged from the ground. Although 95 percent waspure, unadulterated rubbish, in the meantime we hadsalvaged all kinds of useful things, including double-glazedpanels of glass miraculously43 unbroken, some perfectlyuseable fence posts, and enough scrap40 angle iron tofabricate a small enclosure. The first object fabricatedentirely from the salvaged42 scrap was a trailer for thekeepers’ new quad46 bikes that John made in less than aweek, using wheels from an old sit-on mower47. That trailer isstill in service today.
The quad bikes, however, are not. Or rather, one of themis, just. Duncan’s idea to buy cheap quad bikes as amorale booster for the staff backfired at first, when thewrong people ended up using them for the wrong reasons.
Instead of Hannah and Kelly’s workload48 being lightened,they still seemed to be pushing heavy barrows of meat orbedding up steep paths, while junior maintenance staff andcasual employees thrashed around the park on the bikesdoing minor49 errands. The quad bikes deteriorated50 rapidly,and spent more and more time being fixed51 or waiting forparts. This caused a lot of bad will, and several meetingswere held where strict protocols52 were implemented54 for theuse of the quads55. The person who was least happy about itwas probably Rob, head keeper and long-sufferinggrandson of Ellis. “What’s wrong with walking?” he’d ask.
“It’s part of what working in a place like this is all about.”
Though well-intentioned, the purchase of the quad bikestaught us a lesson about tampering56 with the ecosystem57 wehad inherited.
My own gift to the keepers was on a smaller scale, andcaused less controversy58. Ten headlamps, distributedthroughout the staff, had made working in the dark winterevenings, in the absence of exterior59 lighting60 (and evenlights inside some of the big cat houses) safer and morebearable. “I haven’t heard a word said against them,” saidRob. Though by spring, every one of them had been lost orbroken. On a lighter61 note, in the lighter evenings we didn’tneed them.
The peacocks were another welcome part of that spring,pouting and preening62 their quite unbelievably over-the-topplumage for all they were worth. Peacocks seem to havebeen designed by a flamboyant63 madman, probably ofIndian extraction given the fine detailing, though with morethan a nod toward the tastes of Liberace. Even in reposethey are stunning65, their impossibly blue heads and neckssuddenly giving way to equally unlikely green and goldfeathers laid like scales from halfway66 down their backs.
These in turn abruptly68 change into their famous long tailfeathers, many of them around a meter, easily three timesas long as the males’ bodies. As if this is not enough, as anafterthought their heads are embellished69 with more bluetippedfeathers on narrow stalks, which blossom out in ananimal parody70 of a Roman centurion’s helmet. And why thehell not? you think. They’ve gone this far. It seems the onlylimit to their opulence71 is the almost boundless72 confines ofthe imagination of their Indian Liberace designer.
In the sunshine, watching these extravagant73 birds, I found,was uniquely cheering. Their sheer physical beauty wasuplifting, a symbol that, even striding around with a mobilephone stuck to my ear, I was somewhere unusual,worthwhile, and with a hint of the exotic. And they werehighly amusing, too. These pea brains would launch theirshimmering fan at anything that moved, and quite a fewthings that didn’t. The older males, with their magnificenttails, shimmered75 in the sunlight, flashing their wares76 at theducks, cockerels, and moorhens, who studiously ignoredthem or walked away embarrassed. But they also targetedpicnic benches, footballs, plant pots, and even the cats(which upset these still slightly nervous felines77 no end). Onlyoccasionally, it seemed, did they actually display theirwares to the correct subject, a peahen, who is supposed tobe so impressed with this array that nothing less will do. Butthey didn’t seem impressed either, and often wandered offleaving some hapless male shimmering74 away at nothing,abandoned as if halfway through a promising78 first date. Inthe whole mating season I think I witnessed only onesuccessful copulation, and there was certainly only onepregnant female by the end of it.
I also loved the peacocks because of their place inevolution, or rather in the explanation of it. As an occasionalwriter on evolutionary79 psychology80, particularly regardingmale behavior, I often used the peacock’s tail as shorthandfor some elaborate and expensive male display designedto attract females. There are strong arguments in favor ofthe idea that the entire human cortex—metabolically themost expensive organ we possess— evolved with mateattraction in mind. Similarly, humor, hunting, risk taking, andred Porsche 911s can all be shorthanded as peacock’stail–type phenomena81. You look for other examples, oftentoward the birds of paradise, but their elaborate displaysand one-off shock-tactic plumage, though certainlyridiculous, have nothing on the sheer extravagance of theencumbrance the peacock has landed himself with. Thepoint of the tail is that it is very expensive to produce andmaintain—like the Porsche, or cortex—and having one is adefinite drain on resources. A human neocortex requires 40percent of our calories, and a Porsche costs a lot to buy,and, subject to legal action pending82 at the time of writing,may become almost as costly83 to drive in central London,where most of them surely live. But the peacock’s tail reallyhampers him, drawing massive attention from predatorsand making evasion85 much more difficult. The weightimpedes take-off, and you rarely see them attempt morethan a wing-assisted hop4 when in full plumage. This pointwas illustrated86 graphically87 a few years previously88, when,according to Robin89, the bears were moved into their newenclosure in woodland frequented by peacocks. “Yes, ittook them a while to get used to the change,” said Robinmildly. “The bears ate mainly peacocks in the first week.”
Having landed, the birds were startled by and then poorlyequipped to evade90 the three fast-moving, voraciouspredators, and this lesson in natural selection is fascinatingto me. Watching them parade this incredibly expensivedisplay so poorly, and at such inappropriate objects, whilechildren play football around them, I have to think that,having gone to all that trouble, squandering91 the display on acamera bag or a tree stump92 seems marvelous in itsprofligacy. It really does say to me, to borrow Dawkins’
phrase from his famous book on Darwinian theory, that theWatchmaker was blind. Just an extra gram of neural93 tissue,you would think, would be a better investment, but not whenthe market, evolved through rigorous sexual selection, is inexpensive tails. I had a soft spot for the peacocks. So I wasdisturbed to learn that Owen, our star bird keeper, hadtaken it upon himself to cull94 four of them, citingovercrowding. I suspected there was more to it than this,because Owen, like Sarah, had told me that he didn’t seethe95 zoo as a place where non-exotic animals, or morespecifically, “animals of no zoological significance,” shouldbe kept. Most of the hundred or so birds in the walk-inenclosure—mainly chickens, geese, and ducks—hadgradually disappeared—culled apparently96 by somesystemic parasitic97 infection that was too advanced to treatand that was a health risk to the more zoologicallysignificant rare birds we had and planned to acquire in thefuture. But several neighbors and farmers were contactedand invited to take the birds, subject to their own healthcheck, and many were saved, going on to produce manyeggs for many other people. Adam in particularoccasionally taunted98 me that he enjoyed a particularly fineduck egg for breakfast. This culling99, deemed necessary,particularly upset Mum, who had enjoyed being followedaround by this raggedy brood while feeding them, anexperience, standing100 in her own park, which seemed adaily reminder101 of the remarkable102 distance she had traveledin her life since childhood. It upset me too, and indicated alevel of disagreement with the new keeper-staff, which wasto culminate103 in a fiery104 meeting about the direction of thepark a few weeks down the line. More of that later.
In the meantime, I went along with this and other, to me,quite radical105 measures, simply because there wasn’t timeto contest everything, and nor was it wise to challenge theorthodoxy on everything I felt uncertain about. Zookeepersare a little bit like paramilitaries. They wear big boots andcombat trousers, they communicate with walkie-talkies, andthey do a dangerous job that sometimes involves firearms.
To come up through their ranks requires a lot of disciplineand dedication106, as well as conformity107 to the establishedorthodoxy. I couldn’t do it. Arguably, I have a modicum108 ofself-discipline (though I can imagine my dad snorting withderision at this assertion), but external discipline oftenseems to rankle109 with me. Duncan tried to be a zookeeperonce, for about six months in the reptile110 house at LondonZoo, and it wasn’t for him either. “I remember my first day,”
says Duncan. “The man in charge of me held up a broom,told me what it was, and then showed me how to use it, byputting the head on the floor and then pushing it out in frontof you repeatedly. It took a while for it to dawn on me that Iwas standing here being shown by a grown man how tosweep a floor.” Having been fully13 trained, he thought, inthese esoteric cleaning arts, after a few days he made aninnovation. “The head of the broom kept falling off, so Ipopped a nail into it and trebled the efficiency. But thebloke was livid. ‘Who told you to do that?’ he yelled, andwith good reason, it turned out.” Apparently the head wasleft loose because it was sometimes necessary to go inwith the alligators112 to clean around these slow-movingthrowbacks, and the broom was the keeper’s maindefense. “The idea is that if an alligator111 ever made a movefor you, you offered it the broom and it would bite the headoff and retreat, thinking it had got something. And then atleast you still had the handle, instead of it being yanked outof your hand and thrashing about the place.” So there wasmethod in this apparent madness (though this arguablymost important part of the training had been lacking), butsome of what Duncan encountered just seemed like plainmadness.
“The Galapagos tortoises had beak113 rot and weren’tbreeding, so I decided to use my lunch hours to look into it,”
he says. London Zoo is home to one of the mostcomprehensive zoological libraries in the world, but as atrainee keeper in the early 1980s, Duncan wasn’t allowedaccess to it. “They made it really hard, and it was as if theygenuinely didn’t understand what I wanted to do in there.”
Eventually Duncan got in, and found that the only zoo tosuccessfully breed these huge, long-lived reptiles114—one atLondon at the time was thought to have been brought backby Charles Darwin—was San Diego. Reading their papersand contacting their staff, he learned that the beak rot wascaused by eating bananas, which stick to the lower part ofthe jaw116. In the wild, such matter is brushed off by the longgrass through which the tortoises walk, but in London theyweren’t, so the beak rots. Duncan took his findings to thesenior keeper in charge of the reptiles, expecting to beable to implement53 the necessary changes, and possiblyeven be thanked for his efforts. In fact, the old man said,“I’ve been doing this job for twenty years. Who are you totell me how to do my job?
Fuck off.” Science, they say, advances funeral by funeral.
Duncan isn’t the type to wait around, so he left to becomehis own boss, importing marine117 fish from the tropics.
Now we both found ourselves running a zoo—or trying to—and while we knew we had to listen to and closely followwhat we were told by our advisors118, from keepers to curatorto council, we also knew that there would be times when wewould be able to innovate119. Business managers know thatoften the best innovators are not insiders. Our trouble wasthat we weren’t really business managers either. But atleast we were outsiders.
We also knew that, for now, we all had to work together,and to use the Environmental Health officer PeterWearden’s phrase, “ticking the right boxes,” was whatcounted most in the run-up to the inspection38. Sometimesthose boxes could be ticked, after a struggle, via a differentchain of events from those prescribed or recommended,like with the wolf dispute, or the monkeys, but this alwaystook time, and invariably, during the hiatus beforeresolution, our fragile credibility would be eroded120. Until thebox was actually ticked, when it became an invisible issue,and everything moved toward the next box. Time we did nothave, and we had to get as many boxes ticked as possiblebefore our inspection, now set firmly for 4 June. We had toenter into a box-ticking frenzy121, otherwise the bankers andthe lawyers would gleefully produce their own clipboards,offering much less room to maneuver122, and with much lessfriendly boxes.
There was an exhilarating sense of teamwork—a trulyflexible, skilled, and dedicated123 team working together toachieve a common aim. On paper, this was our business,and everyone was an employee contriving124, in the long run,to produce profits for us. In actuality, I don’t think anyonethought like this—least of all us. Day in, day out, it felt likewe were all battling to save a beleaguered125 public resource,and most important, a collection of beleaguered animals,safe for the future. And if we failed, the consequences wereunthinkable. Tourette Tony did an excellent job, swearinghis way through countless126 setbacks, dancing his diggerthrough ridiculously skillful and efficient maneuvers127, andworking himself and his team as hard as was humanlypossible. Anna and Steve were absolutely invaluable128, Annahandling the complicated paperwork, feeding back to usexactly which boxes we needed to tick, and exactly how,while Steve deployed129 himself as laborer131, keeper,supervisor, roller driver—whatever he needed to be.
Hannah, Kelly, Paul, John, and Rob alternated betweenkeeping and maintenance tasks, and a crew of temporarylaborers got stuck with unpleasant tasks like dredging slimymoats, sweeping132 acres of wet leaves, and tensioninghundreds of meters of new fence mesh133, which bites into thehands, made more painful by the chilly134 breeze. Owen andSarah led their troop of junior keepers from the front,working incredibly hard, leading, training, and instillingappropriate modern practices, though a little harshly itseemed to me at times—Owen told me that to train anovice you had to “break them down and build them upagain, sometimes.” This didn’t chime with my preferred(though admittedly made-up-as-I-went-along) managementtechnique, but then I wasn’t from that culture. Inevitably135, thison going process had its occasional rows and threatenedwalkouts, but the overall atmosphere was of everyoneknuckling down and doing whatever was necessary. It wasgoing as well as it could. And then came the rain.
After the exceptionally sunny and buoyant May, weentered the wettest June in the UK for a hundred years. TheSouthwest suffered just over twice the averageprecipitation since records began in 1914, but it felt like itrained every single day. The gnawing136 doubts of whether wecould accomplish the task in the allotted137 time returned.
Working in waterproofs138, many tasks like fencing and barrierreplacements could still be achieved. But things likewelding outside, concreting, chain-saw work, and often,using the digger, were out of the question.
The peacocks, so recently a symbol of hope, now lookedbedraggled. One female sat on the grass verge139 outside thetoilets for several weeks, and when I asked the keepers ifshe was okay, it turned out that she was roosting someeggs. In the rain. Within a few yards of where she sat was aperfectly viable140 bush, which would at least have providedsome cover from the elements and, at least as important,foxes. But this dumb-assed bird—apparently the only oneto succumb141 to the male’s elaborate, evolutionarilyexpensive spring display—persisted in trying to rear herdelicate brood fully exposed to the elements and predators84.
Eventually three eggs hatched, and she wisely moved herlittle ones around each night, but as they grew and sheroamed further afield—she and her little trio of actually quitepretty chicks, desperately142 trying to keep up with their mum—we gradually lost track of them, and I can’t honestly saywhether any of them survived or not.
Even in the rain there was much to do, both inside andout, and I threw myself into work. By now, less than threemonths after Katherine’s death, I could notice significantphysiological changes in my response. Mainly, I didn’t feelso leaden, as if the life had been sapped out of me with herpassing—though my Stella Artois diet, much reduced butstill a significant part of my routine to get to sleep afterputting the kids to bed, was expanding my waistline so that,in reality, my physical leadenness was actually increasing.
But the energy within was beginning to return. The manydaily triggers were becoming more recognizable and morebearable, I was much less likely to be wrong-footed bysomething unexpected, and the amount of crying I neededto do gradually reduced. I would occasionally beoverwhelmed by dipping into the enormity of what we hadlost. A couple of brief but necessary trips to London, everypart of which I seemed to have visited with Katherine,during this period were particularly horrible. But generally, Icould feel it was getting better. And the children seemed tobe thriving at the new school, and adapting with themalleable resilience of the very young.
Obviously they were still profoundly affected143, and I madesure that I kept talking to them whenever they wanted me to.
Increasingly, though, they seemed to be protecting me—and themselves—from my grief, which must have beenalarming for them, but was impossible (and I thought,inadvisable) to hide in the early stages. They confidedoccasionally to friends and neighbors, and Amelia, whotrickled their concerns back to me. Once they both came upwith the idea of wearing one of Katherine’s jumpers in bed,and as I rummaged144 through her drawers of neatly145 foldedclothes, last visited during those all too memorable146 weeksof dressing147 and undressing her, I felt myself becomingincreasingly upset. Milo, watching closely, smiled andwagged his figure at me, saying good-naturedly, “Uh, uh,uuh, Daddy. Don’t turn on the tears.” It cheered me up noend and I promised him that I wouldn’t, and reassured148 himagain that whenever he wanted to talk about Mummy Iwouldn’t cry. Which is where we are now.
Outside in the park, the inspection date loomed149, and therain often made it impossible to see farther than a fewyards. We persevered150, and even a few weeks before theinspection, the mood on the ground was lifting; theconsensus seemed to be that we had “ticked enoughboxes” to show willingness. It is almost unheard of for a zoothat has had its license withdrawn151 to haul itself back fromthe abyss, but the feeling was that we were probably goingto do it—though we couldn’t afford to slack off for an instant.
Our short resumé looked good. We had the right people,the right intentions, and if not quite the right amount ofmoney, at least we were spending it in the right way. One ofthe most important parts of our license requirement was theconservation measures we were going to implement. Steveand Anna have good contacts with an endangered speciesprogram in Sri Lanka, and Owen and Sarah’s back catalogof successes was filtering through to us with promises ofbreeding programs for the future, which also scored uspoints. As did creatures like Ronnie, the officially“Vulnerable” tapir, and Sovereign, our prize stud-book jag.
But increasingly, local conservation measures are seen asat least equally important. Fortunately, we were in a goodposition to implement many. On the edge of Dartmoor,itself a thriving habitat of many species that are decliningnationally, we were perfectly44 placed to help endangeredanimals of the much less glamorous153 variety. Like dormice,horseshoe bats, vulnerable ground-nesting birds, newts,snails, and even certain mosses154 and lichens155. One species Ialready knew a tiny bit about was a certain kind of fritillarybutterfly thought to have one of its last toeholds in thecountry in Dartmoor, which I happened to have writtenabout briefly156 for the Guardian157. I called the ButterflyConservation Society (“Butterfly Conservay-shun, how canwe help you?” they cooed), who informed me that we couldwork to provide habitats on our land that could be suitablefor butterflies. We already had a couple of acres ofdedicated conservation woodland, but the requirements forspecific plants may have been detrimental158 to what wasalready there. They would welcome a donation. Er, maybeone day.
Another thwarted159 effort was the Dartmoor pony160, down tofewer than nine hundred breeding mares (making it evenrarer than that conservation figurehead the giant panda),and subject of a concerted local campaign to protect themfrom ruthless landowners who sometimes shoot them orsell them for meat rather than pay the newly introduced ￡20fee for a horse passport, now required under Europeanlaw. The idea is to register animals that may pass into thehuman food chain so that any veterinary drugs they haveconsumed can be monitored. The reality is that a Dartmoorpony can be sold for as little as a pint161 of milk, and manyhard-pressed farmers simply can’t afford to comply with thepassport law. Charities are looking for landowners who canoffer paddocks to small herds162 of ponies163, who areperiodically transported back to certain areas of the moorto graze and manage it as only these tough little indigenouscritters can. My sister Melissa researched and promotedthe scheme, having once kept a Dartmoor pony—Aphrodite—who had a stubborn but gentle temperament164. Iremember Aphrodite fondly, nonchalantly standing outsidein the snow, with icicles clinking from her whiskers, trying toreassure a namby-pamby semi-Thoroughbred in its heatedstable, wearing a thick horse coat, who had caught a cold.
This local project sounded perfect, and I brought up plans todevote eight acres, which would support about eight totwelve small ponies, to this admirable aim. But I hit a brickwall: it didn’t tick any boxes. Dartmoor ponies may beendangered, but the actual species, Horse (Caballus), canonly be described as thriving. Dartmoor ponies wereartificially bred by humans a few centuries ago, probably towork in the local tin mines, and count as a breed, ratherthan an endangered species. It’s like trying to save theSiamese cat, or the Staffordshire bull terrier. Of interest tolocal breeders perhaps, but zoologically insignificant165. Thisseemed to me a particularly irritating pill to swallow, butagain, time was not on our side, and we had to do whatwas necessary to get our license, rather than what wethought we might like.
One local scheme, which I did manage to include as acentral plank166 of our conservation strategy, was reinstatinghedgerows. There are an estimated couple of kilometers ofhedgerow bordering and crisscrossing our thirty acres,most of it depleted167 and sparse168, providing little of the richhabitat for local wildlife it once did. Some hedgerows(though not, it has to be said, ours) are more than sevenhundred years old. Properly maintained, hedgerows aregiant elongated169 ecosystems170 in their own right, acting115 ascorridors for wildlife to pass along, and protecting manywildflowers, plants, insects, birds, and mammals thatexperience difficulties when out in the open. We also hadpockets of different kinds of hawthorn171, which could betransplanted from other parts of the site, and this project,fortunately, was given an enthusiastic thumbs-up by theauthorities. It also ticked my own personal box for a longterm,slow intervention, a gradual enhancement of thebroader ecosystem of the park, unlikely to provide shocks,but very likely to provide long-term benefits and educationalopportunities—and security, as thick hedgerows are agood barrier against intruders, as well as certain errantexotic animals. And—AND—where we took out hawthorn, itfreed up space for other uses, like public viewing areas. Itwent into the plan, and we set about putting out feelers forthose wise in the ways of the hedgerow to train us up.
Fortunately, in this area of Devon, these old countrysidepractices still go on, and I looked forward to one day beingable to lose myself in the ancient art of coppicing for a fewhours a day before too long.
Meanwhile, over at the restaurant, the ringmaster Adamwas gradually drawing everything together, though it tookan experienced eye to discern through the chaos173 that somecoherence was emerging. The kitchen was still“shambolic,” as was the eating area and the shop—covered in sawdust and work tools—which somehow hadto be transformed into clear public access or commercialspace. But there were signs that it was changing for thebetter. The vile174 ceiling had been covered with crisp newplasterboard, then skimmed with plaster to an almostethereal smoothness by three men in less than a week,which at four hundred square meters was pretty goodgoing. Mind you, it had to be. It had to dry, be painted, andhave the lovely, new, brushed-chrome flush spotlights(Katherine would have approved) installed.
There had been much talk of off-whites, even strongcolors, being used on the walls, but Mum and I stuck to ourguns: everything was going to be white. With the oak floor,oak counter and bar, and brushed-steel details, this vastroom was going to give posh London restaurants a run fortheir money.
Remember that design meeting I was in when the wolfescaped? We didn’t use those people for our leaflets in theend, as their mock-ups were much too fussy175. (Instead afriend from London volunteered to finish off what Katherinehad started, much more in her style; thanks, Paul.) Butsomething good did come out of the meeting. When Ioutlined my ideas for the overall aesthetic24 for the restaurant,and ultimately the park, mentioning Terence Conran as aguiding principle, one of the designers came up with theexcellent description “Conran meets Out of Africa.” Ijumped on it readily. (Pretentious? Moi?) Howeverpompous this model may sound, if we could pull it off I wascertain it would work in the market we were aiming for.
Good design is becoming more mainstream176, and modernbuildings are springing up in zoos as fast as they areanywhere else. Bristol Zoo recently spent ￡1,000,000 on anew monkey house that looks like it could feature in aSwedish Grand Designs program. People who regularlyeat at McDonald’s won’t actually be put off by understatedgood taste (well, “good taste” in my humble177 subjectiveopinion anyway), nor will they be put off by good food, aslong as it is reasonably priced. Besides, my mostoptimistic interpretation179 of our business plan was that we(and the surrounding roads) could probably only support amaximum of 200,000 to 220,000 visitors a year, and oneday we may have to raise prices to limit the numbers. Whynot prepare for that market now? It was easy to get aheadof yourself (our most pressing aspiration180, to just breakeven, with 60,000 visitors, was thought by many to beoptimistic) in the upbeat atmosphere of the restaurant,particularly with Adam in “can do” mode, still jugglingquotes and materials, and interviewing catering181 staff on avery tight timeline. Looking at the progress, and looking atAdam, I knew he was going to succeed. This wasabsolutely vital, as the restaurant was going to be thefinancial engine of the zoo—and, ideally, somewhere Icould eat without having to worry about cleaning up for thenext twenty-five years.
As another vital part of the business plan, we had to haveat least one good kiosk, ideally two, or if the hugelysuccessful nearby Paignton Zoo was anything to go by, oneevery fifty meters. Adam rejected a ready-made buildingnext to the future petting zoo, a configuration182 of facilitiesthrough which I have been milked for tea, cake, and icecream many times since becoming a parent. Owenpounced on the building to incubate birds’ eggs on publicdisplay instead, while Adam made a strong case forfocusing on a purpose-built kiosk at the top of the picnicarea. Obviously this site needed a kiosk one day, but I wasdisappointed that he was eschewing184 an existing building,and I took some persuading that we should initially185 obtainwhat sounded like a quite expensive shed, instead ofwaiting and putting in a modern, curvy model that had justwon the award for Best Leisure Facility Kiosk in Denmark(so many awards, so little time). But Adam was adamant186:
the outlay187 of ￡2,000 would repay itself in a single goodsummer’s day by keeping people in the best part of thepark, marveling at the proximity188 of the tigers on TigerMountain, being treated occasionally to the lions’ roar andthe wolves’ howl, and buying tea, cake, ice cream, and, aswe are in the Southwest, pasties like there was notomorrow.
As an aside, I have learned two things about pasties, ormeat pies, since I came here. One is that the thick outer rimof crust, which in an authentic189 pasty clogs190 up your mouthlike a packet of cheese crackers191, is not actually meant tobe eaten, because it was designed to be the handle bywhich the meal was held in the grubby hands of miners ontheir lunch break. Sorry if you already knew this, but Ienjoyed the discovery because it makes me feel less guiltyabout leaving that dehydrating arc of carbohydrate192, orthrowing it away to be eaten by ants. Organic,biodegradable handles and food packaging, generally, arethings we should be thinking about now, but they werealready being addressed as early as 1510. Which bringsme to the second thing I’ve learned. The “Cornish pasty”
was invented in Devon. Yeah, where I live. It was recentlydiscovered that 1510 was the first recorded date when apasty was mentioned, in the accounts of the council for thecity of Plymouth. Which is in Devon. Across the Tamar river,“there be monsters,” and this can be proved by the nextmention of the pasty, in 1746, when this Devonian recipewas allegedly stolen by pirates and introduced to Cornwall.
What kind of pirates were these? Outriders for somedespotic, early Martha Stewart? The irrefutable factremains, at the moment, that the pasty came from Devon.
So get used to it, Cornwall. And yes, everybody alreadyknows that pasties originally had two chambers193, one savoryand one of fruit filling, the world’s first two-courseconvenience meal. Even I knew that.
The Great Pasty Debate apparently continues to rageacrimoniously between the two counties, though I mustadmit, in eighteen months here, I have never overheard asingle word of it. And frankly194, now, I’m getting a bit sick ofpasties.
So Adam persuaded me that the new structure would bea good use of our rapidly depleting195 funds, and called meover the radio to watch it arrive. I still had my reservations,in the driving June rain. It still seemed an expensive optioncompared with refitting the existing building a hundredyards away, and, to me, a bit too square. The team thatarrived to erect196 the prefabricated structure was resolutelyprofessional, working efficiently197 through the rain on a smallsite we had paced out and leveled to the kiosk’srequirements. Once again I had a small opportunity to getinvolved in some DIY construction, supplying the oddhammer blow here, lifting a panel or two there, and Irelished it. But once the structure was up, the teamswarmed around it, fitting it out with internal panels andhammering down the roofing felt, and there was nothing forme to do, apart from stand back in the picnic area andmarvel at how good it looked. Square or not, it looked like ithad always been here, like it definitely belonged, and it waseasy to get excited about the possibility of queues ofpaying customers lining152 up outside it. Though not in thisweather . . .
The kiosk was a very important part of the overall planand, as the business side of the venture, absolutely had towork. The animals, obviously, came first, but withoutsatisfied customers— and lots of them—they faced anuncertain future. The inspection was only days away, andthough it would focus on animal welfare, some attentionwould also be paid to the facilities for the public. Thenumber of toilets, the state of the paths, disabled access,adequate stand-off barriers to prevent people’s limbs beingsheared off by giant carnivores, that sort of thing. What theinspector would not do—could not do—is tell us whether itwas going to work as a business. That was down to us, theweather, an element of luck, and whether the localreputation of the park was already too irretrievablytarnished in the public mind. And that was a bit scary.
Inspection Day dawned a rare sunny morning, whichaugured well, though the pre-exam nerves infectedeveryone. As I met the keepers before the inspectorarrived, they were barely recognizable. Smartly dressed—and clean! Normally mud spattered and sweat drenched,this crew of hardened workers who would think nothing ofthrowing themselves into a mire199 in pursuit of an injuredanimal, shoveling barrowloads of excrement200, or coveringthemselves with blood while stripping down a horsecarcass, suddenly looked like normal people, like you mightmeet out on the street. I didn’t even know that Steve had asmart jacket, but here he was, looking slightly ill at ease init, chain-smoking roll-ups while we waited for the examinerto arrive. I was particularly nervous, which took me bysurprise, because I had taken soundings from everyoneinvolved and had been persuaded that we had “almostcertainly” done enough to pass. It was that “almost” thatsuddenly came home to roost as we waited.
The government-appointed inspector198 arrived with PeterWearden, who would actually issue the license, should thatbe the recommendation. Peter winked201 at me, which wasslightly reassuring202, but the matter was out of his hands. Theinspector, Nick Jackson, ran his own small zoo, a secondgenerationfamily operation with an international reputation,in Wales. So, he knew how to run a good zoo. We justhoped that he could discern the seeds of one in what wehad done. The walk-around—normally an unequivocalpleasure, showing people what we had got and what weaimed to do and watching them transform from wide-eyedskeptics to energized203 enthusiasts204 by the end of it—suddenly became deadly serious. Mr. Jackson was beingpaid to ask difficult questions, from a position of extremeinsight, and nothing was off-limits. He went into every singleanimal house, exposed every single area where we werelacking, and asked the most difficult questions. Meanwhile,Peter, in his role as Health and Safety Officer for SouthHams Council, had some criticisms of his own. “Robin’sNest,” for instance, where Robin had retreated to carry outhis enclosure design work and the construction of signs,was a loft205 that, no one had seemed to notice or thinkstrange, ended with an abrupt67 drop, next to his desk, oftwenty feet down to the concrete floor of the workshopbelow. Obviously, Robin was aware of this and knew to stayaway from the edge, but equally obvious was the fact that itwasn’t safe. “I want this addressed immediately,” he barkeduncharacteristically. “And I mean TODAY.” Other obviousoversights were the lack of signs on the doors of thedangerous animal houses for when people were working inthe enclosures. “If I was working out there, I’d like to knowthat there was a sign on the door telling the keepers not torelease the cats, just in case of a breakdown206 ofcommunication,” said Mr. Jackson. Though our operationwas small enough and tight enough for everyone to knowwhat everyone else was doing, it was a fair point, andDuncan radioed to Robin, who, his dangerous nest alreadybeing worked on, immediately began implementing207 thisrecommendation. I didn’t help; for want of something to saywhile we waited for the keys to arrive to the tiger house, Ipointed out that there was blood on the padlock of theexternal door. The inspector looked sharply at me andsmiled. “I hadn’t noticed that,” he said. “Poor workingpractices.” And he made a note. Damn.
At about five o’clock the inquisition was over, and rarelyhave I felt so relieved. But the day wasn’t over yet. Wemoved to the office, where everyone sat down and endureda full two-and-a-half-hour debriefing208, going over every pointraised and being given some indication of our score on it. Itwas almost as grueling as the inspection itself, andalthough it was useful feedback in that we had scored quitewell, it still wasn’t conclusive209, as the final report wouldcontain extra material. I was relieved that my padlockremark, though drawing attention to our deficits210, hadactually played quite well, and was singled out by theinspector as part of “a culture of openness,” apparentlyquite lacking at previous inspections211 over the years. Hehad also asked for private interviews with keepers andother staff, away from their employers breathing down theirnecks, and had been impressed by what he had heard fromthem about their interpretation of what we were doing andwhere we were going. So no need to sack anybody there,then (just kidding). Unless, of course, the result came backwith “Application Declined,” in which case everybody wouldbe looking for new jobs.
I remember the next day vividly212. I was (stupidly)unexpectedly exhausted213, sitting on a bench outside thehouse with the children, when Rob came up to me. “I can’twork any longer with Steve,” he said. Rob was headkeeper, Steve was the curator, and their relationship wasvital to the smooth running of the zoo. This should havebeen a bombshell. I should have felt panicky, or at leastalarmed, but instead I felt, from very deep down, Whatever.
I felt that we owed a lot to Rob. He had held on to the park,keeping it out of the developer’s hands by taking on thecollection under the Dangerous Wild Animals (DWA)legislation when the license to display the collection held byhis grandfather was withdrawn. I had spoken to him andexchanged many e-mails during the negotiating periodwhen I was in France. Rob was one of the most importantpeople involved in us getting the park. I didn’t want to loseRob, partly because we owed him, and also because hewas multi-skilled, and had a depth of knowledge about thepark that would be impossible to replicate214.
I waited. He suggested moving to working on thegrounds instead, which, after brief consideration, I thoughtwas a very good idea. With thirty acres to tend, we neededa dedicated grounds person (though we couldn’t reallyafford one), and Rob was a qualified215 tree surgeon whoknew the park as well as anyone. He needed a lessstressfuljob due to a change in his personalcircumstances, as he was now single-handedly lookingafter a daughter he hadn’t seen in four years. Moving togrounds would take him from under the direct control ofSteve, with whom he had a stormy relationship that seemedto reach the breaking point roughly every two weeks. UnderTony, with whom he had a less-uneasy relationship, hecould work outside, not worrying about other people’s rotasor changes in procedures he had grown up with beingimplemented by the new regime. He also knew a bit aboutthe many exotic plants that flourish all over the park, mostlygrown from cuttings by the green-fingered Ellis. (I havebrown fingers; any plant in my care automatically shrivelsand dies, though Rob told us early on that one rare plant, akind of creeper, had thwarted Ellis for forty years, but thatas soon as we arrived it had started to sprout216 leaves. Thiswas a strange, apocryphal217 tale that was nevertheless niceto hear.) It would be a simpler life for Rob, and I almostenvied him.
Steve was also delighted, and suggested that he wouldspend more time out in the park with the staff,encompassing the head keeper role, leaving more of theadministrative side of his job to his eminently218 capable wife,Anna. Everybody seemed to be pleased with this newconfiguration, and I felt a bit like a soccer manager who hadcome up with a new way of deploying219 players; instead of 4–4–2, we were going for a radical 1–1–8. Or something. Ihave to admit I’m a bit shaky on soccer, but that’s roughlywhat it felt like. Probably.
So, oddly jaded220 but also rejuvenated221, we all set aboutfilling the time until we heard our fate. We had to assumewe would pass the inspection and open soon, but when,exactly, we could not predict. This was a complicatedissue, because publicity222 material needed to be printed withdates and opening times for distribution all around thecounty. When the printers, up against their last possibledeadlines, pressured us for information, we simply didn’tknow. In the end we went for “Opening Summer 2007.” Wehad better be.
Finally the day came when Peter Wearden summonedme to appear at the council offices in Totnes to hear theresult. I drove with Steve and my mum (maybe Peter wouldbe more lenient223 with an elderly lady present). The last time Ihad been there was to register Katherine’s death threemonths before with Ella, when I had played with herafterward in the small maze224 in the courtyard. But I tried toput this out of my mind because, as the King of SwampCastle says in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, about thewedding disrupted by the slaughter225 of many guests by theexuberant Lancelot, “Please! This is supposed to be ahappy occasion.” Peter smiled, I smiled, everybody smiled.
It was looking good. He handed me the report, which waslong but fortunately had a covering letter. “I recommend thatDartmoor Zoological Park be granted a license to trade asa zoo . . .” Wow. At last. We had done it. We thanked Peterand drove back elated, and presented the news to all thestaff, some of whom shed tears. We set a definite date forour opening, two weeks away, on 7 July—07/07/07—whicheverybody agreed was somehow auspicious226.
Most important, it was just before the school holidays, atthe beginning of the busiest period, though it meant wewould have to hit the ground running. It would have beennice to have a gentler opening in June, to get a bit ofpractice at actually dealing227 with the public before exposingour newly revamped infrastructure228 to the (ideally) swarminghordes of July. If those hordes229 found any holes in our planthey would burst through them, impelled230 by market forces,and puncture231 the whole damn balloon. But 07/07/07 wasset in stone. We really were opening on that date, no matterwhat. If the restaurant wasn’t ready, there would besandwiches. If the kiosk wasn’t wired up properly, we’d runan extension lead. If the play area was uninstalled, we hadbouncy castles, lent to us by Adam’s Bouncy Castles, asecret part of our customer services manager Adam’sformer life. It was going to happen.
But the money had run out. We had tried—in vain, as itturns out—to keep track of our reserves. But by the timeJoanne, our bookkeeper, had got a grip on the situation, itwas to tell us that we had about ￡60,000 left, and about amonth to go before opening. An endangered zoo eatsmoney like a specially232 designed money-eating machine,and for the valiant233 army of Dartmoor Zoological Park,￡60,000 was a pittance234. An industrial shredder speciallyadapted for banknotes couldn’t get through money anybetter. As well as hungry mouths to feed—lions, bears,tigers, monkeys, and otters235, to name but a few—all thoseanimals require expensive veterinary dental checks, fecalscreening programs, routine vaccinations236, microchipping,and a whole gamut237 of other services, which for a custodianof exotic animals, is the first priority.
But these are so unequivocally part of what the zoo isabout that they present no dilemma238. The Day of the Dentistwas a memorable, and memorably239 expensive, inaugurationof just what is needed to responsibly maintain so manyexotic animals. Fudge the bear, as well as needing asecond go at cutting her claws, which had grownsemicircular and impeded240 her walk, looked like she hadtoothache. At twenty-nine, she could be expected to liveperhaps another seven or so years in captivity241 (though shewould have been long dead in the savage242 wild where herkind are down to perhaps five examples in the Pyrenees,and are still being hunted for sport in Eastern Europe). Herclaws were one issue, but she seemed subdued243 and slowmoving, and the occasional glimpses into her mouth sheoffered revealed a horrifying244 set of broken gravestones,cracked and covered in brown grime, as well as whatlooked like an abscess. It was enough to slow anyonedown, particularly a venerable old lady.
One of the pumas245 was also ailing64, and dribbling247, whichhad been consistently diagnosed as gingivitis and treatedas such periodically over the last several years. The troublewas that gingivitis is usually an acute condition—very rarelychronic—but this puma246 rarely showed her teeth to thekeepers, and was in fact recently revealed to be an entirelydifferent puma from the one we thought we had. An X-raytaken a few months previously showed that she had a metalplate in her leg, which she was not supposed to have, andmeant that she was someone else entirely45. We had to findout who she was and what was wrong with her.
The third, and arguably most important, client wasSovereign, the Ninja-escapist jaguar248 and the mostendangered animal of the three. He had somehow crackedboth his upper canines250, one of which was flat at the end. Ithad been suggested that both these teeth might need to beextracted, which bothered me, because Sovereign was stilla young adult and these teeth were the tools of his trade.
Obviously he didn’t need them for hunting at the zoo—wecould feed him mince251, if he needed it—but I was concernedfor his psychological well-being252 if these teeth were lost. Hewould feel the loss. And I was concerned thatpreoccupations with preventing future abscesses would notinclude this in the calculations. I wanted to be there whenthese decisions were made.
So the Day of the Dentist was set, and we prepared.
How we prepared. Peter Kertesz is the UK’s leadingspecialist in exotic animal dentistry, and is also, mainly, aHarley Street practitioner253 on humans. He happens to havetaken an interest in animal dentition, and has become oneof the world’s leading experts. Nick Masters, from the IZVG,was going to handle the anaesthetic and carry out generalhealth checks on each animal while it was under. Both ofthem were booked, and we had to be ready.
In the predawn darkness of 6 AM the team started toassemble at the park, and most of the normal routineprocedures and feeding began. By 8 AM, Steve hadendured his increasingly familiar dance with Sovereign,who had been darted9 successfully and transported to thepark’s shiny new vet facility. Sovereign made a spectacularfirst patient for the vet room, his beautiful markingscontrasting with the sterile254 white environment and greencoatedmedics. On examination, both Sovereign’s twochipped upper canine249 teeth exposed some of the pulp255, sothere was a real possibility he might lose them. But Peterwas unfazed and simply trimmed them, using a terriblyefficient little grinder which makes all the worst noises thatyou don’t want to overhear during human dentistry. Havingstabilized the external structure of the teeth, he set aboutperforming root-canal work. For us, this involves a specialpipe cleaner about two inches long, which is inserted intothe hole in the center of the tooth where the dentine oncewas, and shuffled257 back and forth172 to clean all the residualtissue out of the cavity deep in the bone. Thank God foranaesthetic. For Sovereign, the pipe-cleaning probesneeded to be at least five inches long to get deep enoughinto his enormous roots, but also to travel the extra inchesof the length of the teeth themselves, for Peter to dig out allthe pulp. Fortunately, for such a dangerous patientSovereign was as good as gold. Nick Masters ensured thathe was under a closely monitored general anaesthetic;there were tubes in his mouth, monitors on his heart, andmachines that went beep. After some very in-depthreaming, and then a similarly comprehensive filling,Sovereign’s root-canal work was complete, and he wasreturned to a bed of straw in his enclosure.
Then it was the turn of a female puma, who we thoughtwas probably Holly258, who had been dribbling saliva259 in anunusual way. We carried the prostrate260 cat on a stretcherthat had been lent by another zoo for the occasion. It was ashort haul, with a relatively261 small cat, and the drugs wereinternationally recommended, so I didn’t feel tooapprehensive about this. The transfer went well, and onceshe was on the table, Peter immediately saw that theproblem was a couple of premolars on her lower jaw, whichhad nothing above them to chew against. For the lastseveral years she had been biting against her gums, whichwere bleeding and causing the dribbling, and nowextraction was the only option. But this was all routine toPeter, and forty-five minutes and two extractions later, theprocedure was completed, and Holly was on her way backto her enclosure to recover in her bed of warm straw.
Everybody broke for a late lunch, and a refreshed teamfaced what they hoped would be a simple task of clippingthe over-grown claws of the park’s oldest mammal, Fudge,the twenty-nine-year-old European brown bear. Fudge wastricky to sedate262. Her weight was unknown (it turned out tobe 147 kilos on the scales in the vet room—she’s a smallbear), so it was difficult to get the dose right. And she wastough. Eventually six people managed to transport asleeping Fudge to the operating table, where wemanhandled her into position for Peter and Nick. Nick, asanaesthetist, had priority initially, to stabilize256 her, and hisarray of beeping machines ensured that she was safelyunder, with all her vital signs monitored. As soon as thiswas established, Peter took over with a flourish. NeitherNick nor Peter are tall men, but both are fit and extremelyprecise in their movements—archetypal medicalprofessionals—and it was a real privilege to watch themwork. They looked the part too, both choosing blueparamilitary-style boiler263 suits with leg pockets, Peter’s tocarry the rechargeable battery pack for the elaborateheadlamp he wore throughout, sometimes fitting it withextra optical devices, like a sort of jeweler-surgeon. Which,I suppose, an exotic-animal dentist probably is. Peter isperhaps twenty years older than Nick, and though in theglamorous role of specialist, he gracefully264 deferred265 to theanesthetist whenever he needed access to check the tubesgoing into Fudge’s mouth or made recommendationsabout how long he could take. He’d stand back, tools in theair with all the time in the world, saying, “You do what youhave to do. I’m just the technician.” But though Peter wascharming, he also constantly supplied a monologue266 aboutwhat a superb job he was doing. “Look at that,” he’d say,cutting around the gum and deftly267 extracting a minor rottingtooth, then stitching up the gum with one hand. “I’m probablythe only person in the world who could do that. Fromdiagnosis to extraction in under twenty minutes. Good jobI’m here.” There had been rumors268 that Peter would arrivewith a new, attractive female assistant, and he did (healways does). Unfortunately, though extremely competent,she was not quite as fast as Peter demanded, and he gaveher several ruthless dressing-down. But of course, this wasa serious business. The bear could only stay under for solong, and all the people involved had been working formany hours, with several more to go, during which no onecould afford to make mistakes.
The more Peter looked, the more bad stuff he found. Inthe end Fudge had five extractions, and the molars,particularly her remaining upper canine, were not twentyminutejobs. “Bears’ teeth are built to last,” said Peter as hestruggled with Fudge’s well-rooted dentition, which involvedusing a small stainless269 steel hammer and chisel270. It was allhands on deck as the dental nurse, Anna, Steve, Duncan,and I all held Fudge steady while Peter tugged271 and cajoledthe teeth out and sewed up her bleeding gums. Sovereign Ihad met before under general anaesthetic, and his languidmusculature had been no surprise. “Holly,” the puma, waspast her prime, and had seemed like just a very bigdomestic cat—though one you wouldn’t want to mess with.
But Fudge seemed unbelievably solid, perhaps like the wildboar that Leon had so wisely declined to pursue in France.
She felt like she could go through anything, and Nick wasimpressed with the strength of her vital signs throughout. Iwas totally impressed with Fudge. She was really a beast.
And during these procedures, it became clear why Fudgehad been moving slowly for some time.
Peter uncovered and drained an abscess the size of agolf ball in her lower jaw, which if left untreated would sapthe immune system and could be fatal. One of the earliestexamples of a skeleton of early man was found by a lake inAfrica and diagnosed as having died of a dental abscessthat had eaten at his jaw and killed him, probably verypainfully, in his prime. In the wild, Fudge would have neverlived this long, as this abscess would probably have killedher.
Three and a half hours later, the operation was over, andFudge was returned to her enclosure through a parkshrouded in darkness once more, as when we had begun. Ithad been a long and fairly gruesome day, and though it wasimpossible not to reflect, at least for a moment, on the cost(￡8,000 vet bill, plus vet room, staff, etc.), it felt great tohave diverted some funds from the world in general andchanneled them into this hugely worthwhile cause. Now atleast, if we ever did have to disperse272 the animals, thesethree would be healthier and a more attractive propositionfor rehoming. But it was more than that. The optimist178 in mefound it enormously satisfying to be able to provide suchhighly skilled, expert care for these amazing animals herein our own facility on the site. There was no doubt that Nickand Peter were, quite literally273, world-class professionals.
And we had managed to deploy130 them to address long-termhealth problems in three animals in our care who hadn’tpreviously been treated.
I looked on Peter’s Web site and there he was, with arange of animals and in locations far more exotic than ours:
the most impressive shot was an elephant on its back, with,I counted, twenty-nine people hauling it into position so thatPeter could perform an extraction, probably of a tooth thesize of a rugby ball. Compared to that, six people onstandby for fourteen hours and a man with a large gunposted outside was small potatoes, and it was an honorthat he asked if some of the pictures taken could go on hisWeb site with the others. But it had been exciting for usnonetheless.
All three animals made excellent recoveries, and far fromseeming subdued by their day at the dentist’s, all threeanimals seemed to have an extra spring in their step astheir long-term painful conditions were finally addressed.
The next day Sovereign eagerly stripped a huge piece ofmeat with his newly filled teeth, Holly the puma ate somediced chicken, and Fudge happily crunched274 through abucket of apples, despite the many stitches in her gums.
Vets’ bills make up just one column on the spreadsheet.
In the bigger picture, it’s just a necessary expense in therunning of the business. The trouble was, there still was nobusiness. Several potential lenders had pointed183 this outearly on, and some had even cited it as a reason not tolend us money. How unreasonable275, I’d thought at the time.
But I was beginning to see their point.
Obviously, we had now passed our license inspection,and we could soon open to the public and begin trading.
But unfortunately, the date for this to happen had keptslipping further down the calendar—April, then Easter, thenJune—until it had hit the very worrying month of July. Sixtyfivepercent of the year’s trading in a seasonal attractionlike this takes place in July and August. If any of July wentmissing from the figures, we would be in serious trouble.
And we still weren’t there yet. We had enough to pay thewages and essential creditors276 until October, then that wasit. People had to come in July and August, and in significantnumbers. If they didn’t, we could close at the end of our firstseason. It was sobering, but we ploughed on, using thingswe already had in stock, recycling existing materials, andenthusiastically turning off lights at the end of the day,though this probably had little impact on the staggering￡6,000 monthly electricity bill.
The license had come with a few conditions, mostlythings we could address over the next twelve months, butone or two things—like the restaurant—needed to bebrought up to standard before we opened. It was all inhand, though, and probably on about 1 July, Adam happilyinformed us that the bar was now fully functioning, able toserve wines, spirits, and draft cider and bitter, our very dryale. And Stella Artois. As Adam’s taillights disappeareddown the drive that night, Duncan and I and Max, acameraman with whom we had bonded277 particularly well,opened up the bar and began sampling this importantcommodity, for quality control purposes, of course. The barbecame a convenient place to meet at the end of the day todebrief each other and discuss story lines that neededfollowing up with Max. Strictly278 business meetings, ofcourse. Ten days later, the eighty-four-pint barrel wasempty, Adam having sold about six pints279 to the payingpublic. “I can see that in order to make a profit on the StellaI’m going to have to charge about ￡12.50 a pint,” helamented, perhaps slightly tetchily. We sniggered likenaughty schoolboys as he walked away—though I am sixyears older than Adam, and Duncan and Max areconsiderably more. Of course we realized that this was noway to run a business, though it seemed necessary at thetime.
With one day to go before opening, the restaurant wasactually ready, the shop was stocked with appealing fluffytoys and DZP-printed merchandise, the meat andvegetable rooms for the animals were gleaming, the newpaths were surreally flat and groomed280, and the picnic areawas dotted with restored picnic tables in front of the newkiosk, whose power and water supply was almost completein anticipation281 of the hordes who would, we hoped, soon beswarming around it. Even more striking were the staff,newly kitted out in their pristine282 uniforms, green for keepers,blue for maintenance, white for catering and retail283. Eachshirt was emblazoned with Katherine’s logo of a tigerstripedDZP, the last thing she ever designed, destinednow, apparently, to outlive her by many years.
The only thing that wasn’t playing ball was the weather.
Having passed through the wettest June on record, earlyJuly showed no inclination284 toward becoming summereither. The rain was relentless285, and we even had prolongedperiods of fog, making it impossible to see more thantwenty yards. As Kelly succinctly286 put it on the eve of our bigday, “We’re opening tomorrow, and we’re living in a fuckingcloud.” There was nothing to do but have one last tidy-up,one last walk-around, then turn off the lights and see whattomorrow was going to bring.
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1
seasonal
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| adj.季节的，季节性的 | |
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crave
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| vt.渴望得到，迫切需要，恳求，请求 | |
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3
onset
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| n.进攻，袭击，开始，突然开始 | |
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hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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5
teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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vet
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| n.兽医，退役军人；vt.检查 | |
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sterilized
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| v.消毒( sterilize的过去式和过去分词 )；使无菌；使失去生育能力；使绝育 | |
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allocated
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| adj. 分配的 动词allocate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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15
crunching
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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epic
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| n.史诗，叙事诗；adj.史诗般的，壮丽的 | |
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arsenal
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| n.兵工厂，军械库 | |
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reiterating
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的现在分词 ) | |
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20
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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21
bided
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| v.等待，停留( bide的过去式 )；居住；等待；面临 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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gory
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| adj.流血的；残酷的 | |
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24
aesthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
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25
nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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26
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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27
license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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28
blotch
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| n.大斑点；红斑点；v.使沾上污渍，弄脏 | |
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genetic
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| adj.遗传的，遗传学的 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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31
antidote
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| n.解毒药，解毒剂 | |
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amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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tampered
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| v.窜改( tamper的过去式 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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34
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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snobbery
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| n. 充绅士气派, 俗不可耐的性格 | |
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37
ebbing
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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38
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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39
salvaging
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| （从火灾、海难等中）抢救（某物）( salvage的现在分词 )； 回收利用（某物） | |
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40
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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41
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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42
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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43
miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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46
quad
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| n.四方院；四胞胎之一；v.在…填补空铅 | |
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47
mower
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| n.割草机 | |
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workload
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| n.作业量，工作量 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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50
deteriorated
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| 恶化，变坏( deteriorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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52
protocols
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| n.礼仪( protocol的名词复数 )；（外交条约的）草案；（数据传递的）协议；科学实验报告（或计划） | |
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53
implement
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| n.(pl.)工具，器具；vt.实行，实施，执行 | |
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implemented
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| v.实现( implement的过去式和过去分词 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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55
quads
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| n.四倍( quad的名词复数 )；空铅；（大学的）四周有建筑物围绕的方院；四胞胎之一 | |
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56
tampering
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| v.窜改( tamper的现在分词 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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57
ecosystem
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| n.生态系统 | |
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58
controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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59
exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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60
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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61
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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62
preening
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| v.（鸟）用嘴整理（羽毛）( preen的现在分词 ) | |
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63
flamboyant
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| adj.火焰般的，华丽的，炫耀的 | |
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64
ailing
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| v.生病 | |
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65
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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66
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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67
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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68
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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69
embellished
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| v.美化( embellish的过去式和过去分词 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
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70
parody
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| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
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71
opulence
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| n.财富，富裕 | |
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72
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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73
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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74
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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75
shimmered
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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77
felines
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| n.猫科动物( feline的名词复数 ) | |
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78
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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79
evolutionary
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| adj.进化的；演化的，演变的；[生]进化论的 | |
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80
psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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81
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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82
pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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83
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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84
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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85
evasion
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| n.逃避，偷漏(税) | |
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86
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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87
graphically
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| adv.通过图表；生动地，轮廓分明地 | |
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88
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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89
robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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90
evade
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| vt.逃避，回避；避开，躲避 | |
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91
squandering
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的现在分词 ) | |
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92
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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93
neural
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| adj.神经的，神经系统的 | |
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94
cull
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| v.拣选；剔除；n.拣出的东西；剔除 | |
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95
seethe
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| vi.拥挤，云集；发怒，激动，骚动 | |
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96
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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97
parasitic
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| adj.寄生的 | |
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98
taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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99
culling
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| n.选择，大批物品中剔出劣质货v.挑选，剔除( cull的现在分词 ) | |
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100
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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101
reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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102
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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103
culminate
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| v.到绝顶，达于极点，达到高潮 | |
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104
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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105
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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106
dedication
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| n.奉献，献身，致力，题献，献辞 | |
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107
conformity
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| n.一致，遵从，顺从 | |
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108
modicum
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| n.少量，一小份 | |
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109
rankle
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| v.（怨恨，失望等）难以释怀 | |
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110
reptile
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| n.爬行动物；两栖动物 | |
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111
alligator
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| n.短吻鳄(一种鳄鱼) | |
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112
alligators
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| n.短吻鳄( alligator的名词复数 ) | |
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113
beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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114
reptiles
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| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
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115
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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116
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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117
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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118
advisors
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| n.顾问，劝告者( advisor的名词复数 )；（指导大学新生学科问题等的）指导教授 | |
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119
innovate
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| v.革新，变革，创始 | |
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120
eroded
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| adj. 被侵蚀的，有蚀痕的 动词erode的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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121
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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122
maneuver
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| n.策略[pl.]演习；v.(巧妙)控制；用策略 | |
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123
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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124
contriving
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| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的现在分词 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
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125
beleaguered
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| adj.受到围困[围攻]的；包围的v.围攻( beleaguer的过去式和过去分词)；困扰；骚扰 | |
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126
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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127
maneuvers
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| n.策略，谋略，花招( maneuver的名词复数 ) | |
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128
invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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129
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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130
deploy
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| v.（军）散开成战斗队形，布置，展开 | |
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131
laborer
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| n.劳动者，劳工 | |
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132
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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133
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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134
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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135
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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136
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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137
allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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138
waterproofs
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| n.防水衣物，雨衣 usually plural( waterproof的名词复数 )v.使防水，使不透水( waterproof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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139
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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140
viable
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| adj.可行的，切实可行的，能活下去的 | |
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141
succumb
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| v.屈服，屈从；死 | |
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142
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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143
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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144
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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145
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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146
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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147
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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148
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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149
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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150
persevered
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| v.坚忍，坚持( persevere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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151
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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152
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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153
glamorous
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| adj.富有魅力的；美丽动人的；令人向往的 | |
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154
mosses
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| n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
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155
lichens
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| n.地衣( lichen的名词复数 ) | |
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156
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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157
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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158
detrimental
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| adj.损害的，造成伤害的 | |
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159
thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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160
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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161
pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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162
herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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163
ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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164
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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165
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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166
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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167
depleted
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| adj. 枯竭的, 废弃的 动词deplete的过去式和过去分词 | |
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168
sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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169
elongated
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| v.延长，加长( elongate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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170
ecosystems
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| n.生态系统( ecosystem的名词复数 ) | |
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171
hawthorn
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| 山楂 | |
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172
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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173
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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174
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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176
mainstream
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| n.（思想或行为的）主流；adj.主流的 | |
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177
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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178
optimist
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| n.乐观的人，乐观主义者 | |
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179
interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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180
aspiration
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| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
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181
catering
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| n. 给养 | |
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182
configuration
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| n.结构，布局，形态，(计算机)配置 | |
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183
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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184
eschewing
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| v.（尤指为道德或实际理由而）习惯性避开，回避( eschew的现在分词 ) | |
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185
initially
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| adv.最初，开始 | |
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186
adamant
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| adj.坚硬的，固执的 | |
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187
outlay
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| n.费用，经费，支出；v.花费 | |
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188
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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189
authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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190
clogs
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| 木屐； 木底鞋，木屐( clog的名词复数 ) | |
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191
crackers
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| adj.精神错乱的，癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 )；薄脆饼干；（认为）十分愉快的事；迷人的姑娘 | |
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192
carbohydrate
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| n.碳水化合物；糖类；(plural)淀粉质或糖类 | |
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193
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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194
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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195
depleting
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| 使大大的减少，使空虚( deplete的现在分词 )； 耗尽，使枯竭 | |
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196
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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197
efficiently
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| adv.高效率地，有能力地 | |
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198
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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199
mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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200
excrement
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| n.排泄物，粪便 | |
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201
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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202
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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203
energized
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| v.给予…精力，能量( energize的过去式和过去分词 )；使通电 | |
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204
enthusiasts
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| n.热心人，热衷者( enthusiast的名词复数 ) | |
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205
loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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206
breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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207
implementing
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| v.实现( implement的现在分词 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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208
debriefing
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| n.任务报告，任务报告中提出的情报v.向（外交人员等）询问执行任务的情况( debrief的现在分词 ) | |
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209
conclusive
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| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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210
deficits
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| n.不足额( deficit的名词复数 )；赤字；亏空；亏损 | |
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211
inspections
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| n.检查( inspection的名词复数 )；检验；视察；检阅 | |
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212
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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213
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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214
replicate
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| v.折叠，复制，模写；n.同样的样品；adj.转折的 | |
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215
qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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216
sprout
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| n.芽，萌芽；vt.使发芽，摘去芽；vi.长芽，抽条 | |
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217
apocryphal
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| adj.假冒的，虚假的 | |
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218
eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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219
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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220
jaded
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| adj.精疲力竭的；厌倦的；（因过饱或过多而）腻烦的；迟钝的 | |
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221
rejuvenated
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| 更生的 | |
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222
publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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223
lenient
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| adj.宽大的，仁慈的 | |
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224
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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225
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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226
auspicious
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| adj.吉利的；幸运的，吉兆的 | |
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227
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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228
infrastructure
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| n.下部构造，下部组织，基础结构，基础设施 | |
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229
hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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230
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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231
puncture
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| n.刺孔，穿孔；v.刺穿，刺破 | |
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232
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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233
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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234
pittance
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| n.微薄的薪水，少量 | |
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235
otters
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| n.（水）獭( otter的名词复数 )；獭皮 | |
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236
vaccinations
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| n.种痘，接种( vaccination的名词复数 )；牛痘疤 | |
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237
gamut
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| n.全音阶，(一领域的)全部知识 | |
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238
dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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239
memorably
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| 难忘的 | |
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240
impeded
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| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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241
captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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242
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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243
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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244
horrifying
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| a.令人震惊的，使人毛骨悚然的 | |
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245
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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246
puma
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| 美洲豹 | |
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247
dribbling
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| n.（燃料或油从系统内）漏泄v.流口水( dribble的现在分词 )；（使液体）滴下或作细流；运球，带球 | |
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248
jaguar
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| n.美洲虎 | |
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249
canine
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| adj.犬的，犬科的 | |
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250
canines
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| n.犬齿( canine的名词复数 )；犬牙；犬科动物 | |
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251
mince
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| n.切碎物；v.切碎，矫揉做作地说 | |
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252
well-being
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| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
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253
practitioner
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| n.实践者，从事者；(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
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254
sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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255
pulp
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| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
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256
stabilize
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| vt.（使）稳定，使稳固，使稳定平衡；vi.稳定 | |
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257
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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258
holly
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| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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259
saliva
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| n.唾液，口水 | |
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260
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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261
relatively
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| adv.比较...地，相对地 | |
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262
sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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263
boiler
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| n.锅炉；煮器(壶，锅等) | |
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264
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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265
deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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266
monologue
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| n.长篇大论，（戏剧等中的）独白 | |
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deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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268
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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269
stainless
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| adj.无瑕疵的，不锈的 | |
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270
chisel
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| n.凿子；v.用凿子刻，雕，凿 | |
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271
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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272
disperse
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| vi.使分散；使消失；vt.分散；驱散 | |
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273
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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274
crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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275
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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276
creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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277
bonded
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| n.有担保的，保税的，粘合的 | |
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278
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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279
pints
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| n.品脱( pint的名词复数 )；一品脱啤酒 | |
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280
groomed
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| v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的过去式和过去分词 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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281
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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282
pristine
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| adj.原来的，古时的，原始的，纯净的，无垢的 | |
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283
retail
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| v./n.零售；adv.以零售价格 | |
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284
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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285
relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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286
succinctly
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| adv.简洁地；简洁地，简便地 | |
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