I am seven years old and I have just had a baby tortoise…
You can tell if an animal is happy in captivity in a number of ways. Principally, you can tell by its condition and appetite, for a creature which has glossy fur or feathering, and eats well to boot, is obviously not pining. The final test that proves beyond a shadow of doubt that the animal has accepted its cage as ‘home’ is when it breeds.
At one time, if an animal did not live very long in captivity, or did not breed, the zoos seemed to be under the impression that there was something wrong with it, rather than with their methods of keeping it. So-and-so was ‘impossible’ to keep in captivity, they would say, and, even if it did manage to survive for a while, it was ‘impossible’ to breed. These sweeping statements were delivered in a wounded tone of voice, as if the wretched creature had entered into some awful conspiracy against you, refusing to live or mate. At one time there was a huge list of animals that, it was said, were impossible to keep or breed in confinement; this list included such things as the great apes, elephants, rhinoceroses, hippopotamuses, and so on. Gradually, over the years, one or two more agile brains entered the zoo world, and to everyone’s surprise and chagrin it was discovered that the deaths and lack of babies were due not to stubborness on the part of the creatures but to lack of knowledge and experiment on the part of the people who kept them. I am convinced there are precious few species of animals which you cannot successfully maintain and breed, once you have found the knack. And by knack I mean once you have discovered the right type of caging, the best-liked food, and above all, a suitable mate. On the face of it, this seems simple enough, but it may take several years of experiment before you acquire them all.
Marriages in zoos are, of course, arranged, as they used to be by eighteenth-century mamas. But the eighteenth-century mama had one advantage over the zoo: having married off her daughter, there was an end of it. In a zoo you are never quite sure, since any number of things might happen. Before you can even lead your creatures to the altar, so to speak, it is quite possible that either the male or the female might take an instant dislike to the mate selected, and so, if you are not careful, the bride or groom may turn into a corpse long before the honeymoon has started. A zoo matchmaker has a great number of matters to consider, and a great number of risks to take, before he can sit back with a sigh of relief and feel the marriage is an accomplished fact. Let us take the marriage of Charles as a fairly typical one.
Charles is—rather unzoologically—what is known as a Rock ape from Gibraltar. He is, of course, not an ape at all, but a macaque, one of a large group of monkeys found in the Far East. Their presence in North Africa is puzzling, but obviously they have been imported to the Rock of Gibraltar, and have thus gained the doubtful distinction of being the only European monkey. We were offered Charles when the troupe on the Rock underwent its periodical thinning, and we were very pleased to have him. He was brought over from Gibraltar in style on one of Her Majesty’s ships, and we duly took possession of him. He was about two feet six inches high when squatting on his haunches, and was clad in an immensely long, thick, gingery brown coat. His walk was very dog-like, but with a distinct swagger to it, as befits a member of the famous Rock garrison. He had bright, intelligent brown eyes, and a curious pale pinkish face, thickly covered with freckles. He was undoubtedly ugly, but with an ugliness that was peculiarly appealing. Curiously enough, although he was a powerful monkey, he was excessively timid, and an attempt to keep him with a mixed group of other primates failed, for they bullied him unmercifully. So Charles was moved to a cage of his own, and a carefully worded letter was dispatched to the governor of Gibraltar, explaining in heart-rending terms Charles’ solitary confinement and hinting that he would be more than delighted if a female Rock ape should be forthcoming. In due course we received a signal to say that Charles’ condition of celibacy had been reviewed and it had been decided that, as a special concession, a female Rock ape, named Sue, was going to be sent to us. Thus another of Her Majesty’s ships was pressed into service, and Sue arrived.
By this time, of course, Charles had settled down well in his new cage, and had come to look upon it as his own territory, so we had no idea how he would treat the introduction of a new Rock ape—even a female one—into his bachelor apartments. We carried Sue in her travelling crate and put it on the ground outside Charles’ cage, so that they could see each other. Sue became very excited when she saw him, and chattered away loudly, whereas Charles, after the first astonished glance, sat down and stared at her with an expression of such loathing and contempt on his freckled face that our hearts sank. However, we had to take the plunge, and Sue was let into the cage. She sprang out of her crate with great alacrity, and set off to explore the new cage. Charles, who had been sitting up in the branches disassociating himself from the whole procedure, decided the time had come to assert himself. He leapt down to the ground and sprang on Sue before she realized what was happening and could take evasive action. Within a second she had received a sharp nip on the shoulder, had her hair pulled and her ears boxed, and was sent tumbling into a corner of the cage. Charles was back on his branch, looking around with a self-satisfied air, uttering little grunts to himself.
We fetched two big bowls of fruit and put them into the cage, whereupon Charles came down and started to pick them over with the air of a gourmet, while Sue sat, watching him hungrily. Eventually the sight of the grape juice trickling down Charles’ chin was too much for her, and she crept forward timidly, leaned towards the bowl, and took a grape, which she hastily crammed into her mouth, in case Charles went for her. He completely ignored her, however, after one quick glance from under his eyebrows, and, gaining courage, she again leaned forward and grabbed a whole handful of grapes. Within a few minutes they were both feeding happily out of the same dish, and we sighed with relief. An hour later, when I passed by, Charles was lying on his back, eyes closed, a blissful expression an his face, while Sue, with a look of deep concentration, was searching his fur thoroughly. It seemed that his original attack on Sue was merely to tell her that it was his cage, and that if she wanted to live there she had to respect his authority.
Sometimes one acquires mates for animals in very curious ways. One of the most peculiar was the way in which we found a husband for Flower. Now, Flower was a very handsome North American skunk, and when she first came to us she was slim and sylph-like and very tame. Unfortunately, Flower decided that there were only two things in life worth doing: eating and sleeping. The result of the exhausting life she led was that she became so grossly overweight that she was—quite literally -circular. We tried dieting her, but with no effect. We became somewhat alarmed, for overweight can kill an animal as easily as starvation. It was plain that what Flower needed was exercise, and equally plain that she had no intention of going out of her way to obtain it. We decided that what she needed was a mate, but at that particular time skunks were in short supply and none were obtainable, so Flower continued to eat and sleep undisturbed.
Then, one day, Jacquie and I happened to be in London on business, and, being a bit early for our appointment, we walked to our destination. On rounding a corner, we saw approaching us a little man dressed in a green uniform with brass buttons, carrying in his arms—of all things—a baby chimpanzee. At first, with the incongruous combination of the uniform and the ape, we were rather taken aback, but as he came up to us I recovered my wits and stopped him.
“What on earth are you doing with a chimpanzee?” I asked him, though why he should not have a perfect right to walk through the streets with a chimpanzee I was not quite sure.
“I works for Viscount Churchill,” he explained, “and he keeps a lot of queer pets. We’ve got a skunk, too, but we’ll ’ave to get rid of that, ’cos the chimp don’t like it.”