The wombat enclosure at the LA Zoo is kept so dark that it is almost impossible to see anything. For those who follow such things, this show was a 1/6 of a second exposure at f/3.3 and ISO 12,800. I am optimistic that my newer experiments with low light photography will allow me to do better the next time I visit.

The echidna is a monotreme like the platypus. They can be found in some zoos but, with them being very nocturnal, it can be very hard to get good photos of them. I lucked out that on this one day, there were two of them just wandering around as if they didn’t know it was daytime.

Now I just need to photograph three more species of echidna and a platypus and I’ll have collected the whole set.

Tasmanian devils are unpopular at parties – they always hold onto the joint.

The tree is starting to worry that the dwarven armorer she met in the previous village might not have been entirely truthful about the magical properties of the chain mail he had sold her.

The pronghorn is doing fine. This is, however, a sub-species of pronghorn that lives on the Baja California peninsula in Mexico.

It looks almost entirely like the regular pronghorn, from which it has been isolated long enough to start to form its own species. However, this particular breed of pronghorn is down to 150 individuals in the wild. Several zoos are working to species.

But what happens if they fail? If we lose this species, and the Baja area no longer has these “ghosts of the desert”? Will we let them fade into myth, a fading memory that only pops up here and then when someone gets a glimpse of white and tan in the far distance? Will this become their Loch Ness monster, their Bigfoot?

Or will we take some of our existing pronghorn from elsewhere in North America and just plop a herd back in that area? If we did that, would it be the same? For many, yes. Could the transplanted animals thrive? Quite possibly. Would there be any practical difference between letting the current pronghorns die out and just replace them once the land has been repaired? Most would say no.

150 would say yes.

Bongos prefer the caramel bits.

The giant river otter is difficult to find in zoos and in the wild. They are about twice the size of the North American river otter. Previously, I had only seen these otters at the Birmingham zoo, where the exhibit was indoors and the light made photography difficult. At the LA zoo, they have truly impressive amount of outdoor space … even more impressive given the value of land in the area. I suspect these otters work consulting jobs when the zoo closes to be able to afford it.

“Wide open stood the door, he need not climb,
And she herself before the pointed time
Had spread the board, with roses strowed the room,
And oft looked out, and mused he did not come.”

Well, they can’t be hungry all the time.

This gorilla thinks your excuses need some work and suggests you re-read the syllabus.

Three more months in his sentence. Just three. Then they’ll pay. They’ll all pay.

For some, the shadow of memory is all we get.

The bongo almost died out from disease in the 1890’s. More recently, growing human populations have created another threat.

As is common practice, some bongos were rescued and bred in zoos until enough time had gone by to repair the environment. Then, they were re-introduced to their native areas. Much to people’s surprise, though, they were not welcomed as having been missing. Instead, now they are being poached at a level that has not before been seen. The theory is that, when the bongos died out in the local area, the superstition against eating or touching bongo (believed to cause epilepsy) died out as well. So more bongos were eaten.

Interestingly, today, a new belief is arising to protect them. As more westerns visit the area, locals are learning that the bongos are worth more in ecotourism and trophy hunting fees than they are as food.

Global economics seems to be replacing traditional faith systems everywhere.

The blue eyed black lemur is brown (well, the females are).

It is also one of the most endangered primates on the planet, expected to go extinct in the wild by 2026.

The way they do these calculations is interesting. As is often the case, not enough is known about the species to truly calculate a “death date”. Instead, assumptions are made:

– Assumption that a generation is 8 years long
– Knowing the rate of habitat degregation, then comparing it to the generation length … in this case, more than 80% habitat loss in three generations
– Amount of population fragmentation and density in remaining pockets, ranging between 24-97 individuals per square kilometer
– Group size of 4-11 individuals
– Infant mortality of around 23%
– What the animal eats – in this case, we’re fortunate, as they are highly omnivorous

So the calculation basically says: How many do we have? How quickly do they make more of themselves? How quickly do they die? Given what we know about what they eat and where they live, as things change, how much sooner will they die and how much more slowly will they reproduce? That’s your projected death date.

The good news is that you can change this number by:

– Improving their habitat through education of native peoples, funding, and experimentation
– Helping them to reproduce more quickly through habitat creation, genetic analysis, and artificial insemination
– Helping them to live longer and therefore reproduce more often, through veterinary and nutritional assistance

There is only one type of organization that focuses on all three of these activities.

Zoos.