Zookeeper for a Day Read online

  I really hope we do get to see the baby elephant if it’s born soon.

  Our first stop is the tamarin monkeys. They are so cute and little. Peter lets us come in with him and we sit quietly on the ground. The little monkeys know Peter and climb straight up onto his shoulders. He passes them mealworms and they gobble them down like chocolates. Chelsea screws up her nose, but smiles.

  A young tamarin creeps over and sits at our feet.

  ‘Hold your hands out flat and put some peas on them,’ says Peter quietly. I slowly put my hand into the dish and hold it out with a small pile of peas. The little monkey holds my thumb with his tiny hand and pops the peas into his mouth, watching us the whole time.

  ‘He’s so cute,’ whispers Chelsea.

  ‘We’d better keep moving,’ says Peter. ‘There are lots of hungry mouths to feed!’ He fills their bowls with clean water and fresh food.

  ‘Can you grab a box of crickets from the cart, Juliet,’ he says. ‘We’ll let them go in here to give these little guys something to hunt. It’s really important to keep zoo animals busy so they don’t get bored.’

  I grab the crickets and pull the lid off just as a monkey leaps past and knocks the box from my hand. Crickets leap in every direction, including into Chelsea’s hair!

  The monkeys go crazy chasing the crickets around. Chelsea goes crazy too.

  ‘Juliet! Juliet! They’re in my hair!’ she gasps, frantically trying to sweep the crickets off as they scurry for a hiding spot. ‘Get them off ! Get them off !’

  Peter and I do our best to get them all off her, but she is still a little shaken when we leave the pen. Her hair is the messiest I’ve ever seen it.

  ‘Oh dear,’ whimpers Chelsea. ‘I don’t like crickets. I really don’t like crickets. Can you see any more in my hair?’

  ‘It’s okay now, Chelsea,’ I soothe, trying my best to fix her hair. Chelsea always has really, really neat hair. ‘They’re all gone and your hair looks fine, doesn’t it, Peter?’

  ‘Sure,’ says Peter, nodding his head and trying not to smile.

  Next we visit the red panda again. Peter fills her bowls and we help tie flowers and bamboo to the trees. I scribble a few quick notes:

  Then we’re off to the bamboo partridge enclosure. We sprinkle seeds, nuts, grapes, diced fruit and a few mealworms on the ground. The pretty brown and tan birds scurry around to eat them. Peter hangs some orange halves in the trees for them to find.

  The animals’ food looks so fresh and lovely that my tummy starts to rumble. It must be nearly time for morning tea. Zookeepers work really hard.

  We push our cart around the path behind Peter, stopping every now and then to feed the animals on our list. There are so many creatures at the zoo and each keeper is responsible for cleaning and feeding different ones. Peter has to feed even more today because extra people are helping with the baby elephant birth.

  Next we throw lettuce into the iguana enclosure. Max would love these guys, because the huge lizards really do look like living dinosaurs.

  ‘Otters and penguins are next,’ says Peter, ‘and then we’ll stop for some morning tea.’

  To feed the otters, Peter has to put on long rubber pants called waders and a big coat and gloves. It’s really slippery in there and Peter tells us that otters might look very cute, but they have sharp teeth and can give a nasty bite. He takes a bucket of crayfish in and hides them amongst the rocks. The otters scurry around poking their little black faces with long whiskers into all the rock crevices.

  ‘That should keep them busy for a while,’ he says as he comes back out.

  The Australian little penguins are next door, and this time we’re allowed to come in. Peter shows us how to hold the tiny dead fish by the tail so that they go down the penguins’ throats headfirst. They love them and crowd around us like little men in fancy suits.

  ‘I can’t believe we’re doing this!’ I say to Chelsea. ‘It was soooo worth eating all that cereal!’

  ‘Hey, Mum, look at that!’

  A boy with an ice-cream is looking over the fence at us. Chelsea and I laugh and wave. It feels very cool being on the other side of the fence.

  ‘Hey, what’s wrong with my fish?’ Chelsea asks. The penguins look at it as she dangles it over their beaks, then they turn away.

  ‘It’s because it’s bent,’ laughs Peter. ‘These penguins are very picky with the fish they eat. They won’t eat any fish that are bent or damaged.’

  ‘I think they might be a bit spoilt,’ sniffs Chelsea, and I think she might be right. She does know a lot about training animals.

  We wash the fish from our fingers and I make a quick couple of notes.

  For morning tea, Peter takes us to the animal enrichment area. This is where they make things to keep the animals entertained.

  ‘A bored animal is an unhealthy animal,’ I explain to Chelsea.

  We make some toys for the animals as we eat our snacks. Peter goes off to check on the elephant.

  The first thing we make is for the capuchin monkeys. Leisa, another zookeeper, shows us how to put walnuts into the bottom of plastic containers and cover the tops with masking tape.

  ‘The monkeys will use the rocks in their enclosures to break through the tape,’ she explains, ‘and then they eat the nuts.’

  ‘Animals are so clever,’ says Chelsea. I agree.

  We start on the toys for the bears. They love to rummage and hunt for their food, so we help Leisa hide food in their toys. It’s great fun. Mine look a bit messy when we’re finished, but Chelsea’s are all very colourful and neat. I wonder if the bears will notice the difference.

  I make a list in my diary of the things we’ve made, so I can tell Mum later.

  When Peter comes back from the elephant area, he looks worried.

  ‘She’s really struggling,’ he says to Leisa. ‘I think they’re getting pretty concerned.’ The zookeepers talk for a while in low voices and I try to listen.

  ‘Oh no, Juliet!’ Chelsea startles me when she whispers in my ear. She sounds quite upset.

  ‘I’m sure the elephant and her calf will be fine,’ I tell her.

  ‘It’s not that. I think I have a cricket in my shirt still. It’s driving me crazy. I can feel it. Will you have a look?’

  We duck off to the toilet and I look in Chelsea’s shirt. ‘I’m sure you’re just imagining it,’ I say when I see nothing there. ‘Remember when Bertie Brownstone had head lice and you washed your hair six times in one night? It’ll be just like that. There are no crickets on you, I promise.’

  When we come out, Peter is waiting for us.

  ‘Boy, have I got a job for you two,’ he says.

  I run to grab my kit. ‘Come on, Chelsea!’ I say. ‘It might be time to brush that tiger!’

  ‘It’s time to scrub a tortoise,’ says Peter.

  ‘Now that sounds like fun,’ says Chelsea, grabbing her grooming kit.

  Peter takes us to the grassy area where the huge Galápagos tortoises roam around nibbling the grass.

  ‘This is Grandpa,’ he says. ‘He’s 142 years old!’

  Chelsea and I fall in love with Grandpa immediately. He’s huge! Peter tells us some facts about him and I write them down.

  ‘Now,’ says Peter, ‘Grandpa here is getting a bit too old to go for swims in the pond these days, and we like to keep his shell nice and clean for him. Do you think you could give him a bit of a scrub?’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ I laugh. ‘Chelsea is nearly a world-famous animal trainer and groomer. We’ll have Grandpa looking shiny in no time.’

  ‘I thought you might,’ Peter smiles. ‘Here’s a bucket of lettuce and fruit for Grandpa. If you put this in front of him he’ll stay nice and still for you. I’ve got to go and do some more cleaning jobs, but Marcia is just over there,’ he points to a lady trimming a hedge, ‘and she can radio if you need me.’

  ‘Thanks, Peter,’ we say together.

  ‘I bet he’s going to check on the elephant,’
I say as he walks off. ‘I think there’s a problem. Vets have a special sense for these things.’

  ‘They’ll look after her,’ says Chelsea. ‘Come on, let’s get busy!’ She snaps open her kit on the grass.

  We scrub and rub and clean and scrape. We use toothbrushes to get into all the tight places and steel wool to buff up the dry, flaky spots. Chelsea even gives Grandpa a manicure. He loves it and just keeps on munching. Every now and then he stretches his neck up really tall and looks around.

  ‘He’s doing that because he wants his neck washed as well,’ says Chelsea. We do a great job on that too.

  Chelsea takes some rags out of her kit and finally we polish his shell.

  When Peter comes back he is amazed. ‘Wow,’ he says. ‘Grandpa has never looked so clean. He looks eighty years younger!’

  Marcia comes over to have a look too. They are both very impressed, especially with the lovely blue ribbon we Blu Tacked to his shell.

  ‘Ready to go and feed some babies?’ Peter asks us.

  Could this day get any better? We gather our kits and head to the animal nursery. It’s not even lunchtime yet and we’re both exhausted, but there’s no way we want to stop for a rest.

  When Peter takes us into the nursery we have to be really quiet. There are a few cages with some sick animals in them, but I am pleased that most of them are empty. One of the cages has a large, colourful bird in it. It doesn’t look well. The vet nurse is giving it some medicine from a dropper.

  ‘That’s a macaw,’ says Peter. ‘He’s a bit sick at the moment, but Sophie will get him back on the mend.’ Sophie looks over and gives us a smile and motions that we can come closer.

  ‘I’m Juliet,’ I whisper.

  ‘She’s nearly a vet,’ says Peter. ‘And this is Chelsea. She’s nearly an animal trainer and groomer.’

  ‘Well, how lucky that you’re here,’ says Sophie. ‘We’re short-staffed today and I could use some help from people with experience.’

  ‘What can we help with?’ I say, as I pop open my kit.

  ‘Well,’ says Sophie, clearly impressed, ‘as soon as I’ve finished this job I need to bathe a very dirty little Tasmanian devil and then entertain some cheeky baby meerkats. Do either of those jobs interest you?’

  Our eyes must nearly pop out of our heads because Peter and Sophie burst out laughing.

  Sophie carefully uncovers a tiny little Tasmanian devil that is in a carry crate. It is about the size of a six-week-old puppy and is so cute. He is covered in mud and has some fur missing from his back.

  Sophie gently lifts him out of the crate in a towel. He opens his mouth as if to hiss, but no sound comes out. He thinks he’s so fierce.

  ‘Now let’s have a look at you, Buster,’ she says. ‘One of the keepers noticed this little joey was extra muddy and had some fur missing. We just want to clean him up and check him for cuts before we give him back to his mum.’

  Sophie gets Chelsea and me to prepare a basin of warm water, and she holds Buster while we gently sponge the dirt off his fur. The little devil looks up at us with his small black eyes.

  ‘I’ll do the area where the hair is missing,’ says Sophie.

  She has a closer look at him. ‘No cuts. Probably just play fighting with your brothers and sisters,’ she says to the little devil. ‘Tasmanian devils are pretty tough on each other. It’s a battle to survive from the minute they’re born.’

  We dry him off with a warm towel and wrap him up like a baby. Buster goes to sleep in Chelsea’s arms.

  Sophie calls another zookeeper to tell her that Buster’s fine to go back to his mum, and we put him back into his crate.

  ‘Now,’ she says, ‘are you ready to meet my ratbags?’

  She takes us into another room where there is a playpen on the ground. ‘Shhh,’ she says as she steps in and motions for us to follow. We sit down on the blanket beside her.

  Sophie taps her fingers on the top of a plastic box with a hole in it, and we hear movement inside.

  ‘Watch this,’ she says.

  All of a sudden three little heads fill the doorway and peep out at us.

  ‘Baby meerkats!’ I can hardly control my excitement.

  ‘Come on,’ whispers Sophie to the shy babies. ‘Come on.’ She rolls a tennis ball on the blanket and they all watch it closely.

  They are little balls of fluff with grey heads, honey-coloured bodies and long skinny tails. They bounce out across the floor towards the ball and jump all over it, tumbling over the top of each other. Every now and then, one of them tries to stand up on its back legs, then gets bowled over by another. They really are the cutest things I have ever seen.

  The babies start racing around and climbing onto our legs then leaping off.

  ‘Why are they here?’ I ask, as Sophie gently scoops one up and hands it to me.

  ‘Their mum rejected them for some reason. We don’t know why, but sometimes that happens in nature.’ The little meerkat starts to lick my thumb.

  ‘They’re due for a feed,’ says Sophie. ‘Can you girls play with them while I warm up their bottles? These babies are going to be part of our zoo education program, so they need to get used to people.’

  ‘Will they ever go back in with the other meerkats?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ says Sophie. ‘Meerkats are very territorial and would chase them away and possibly hurt them.’

  Sophie returns a minute later with three warm little bottles.

  ‘We’ve done something like this before,’ I say. ‘After a bushfire, we had to help my mum. She’s a vet. We had to feed a whole lot of orphaned sugar gliders and possums.’

  ‘I knew you girls would be a great help!’ Sophie says.

  We sit together on the floor and give the baby meerkats their bottles.

  Chelsea strokes hers with her finger and we look at each other and smile.

  Every so often, Chelsea scratches herself and looks uncomfortable.

  ‘I still think I’ve got crickets on me,’ she whispers.

  ‘No, you haven’t,’ I say.

  Peter comes in and tells us we will be having a special guest join us for lunch.

  We thank Sophie, kiss our meerkats goodbye, grab our kits and head off. I knew zoos were busy places, but this is ridiculous!

  We walk into a large room with a table set up in front of a large cage. There are some sandwiches on plates for us, but I can only see stools for three people.

  ‘I thought we were having a guest?’ says Chelsea.

  ‘You are,’ says Peter. ‘I’m just getting his lunch.’ He walks out of the room and comes back with a very big piece of meat hooked onto a chain. He opens a door in the cage and hangs the meat up on the mesh. Then he locks the cage and speaks to someone on his radio.

  ‘Let him in, Tom, we’re good to go.’

  Chelsea nearly falls off her seat when a huge Sumatran tiger pads into the cage in front of us from a side door. I must admit, for a moment I panic too.

  ‘This is Rabu,’ says Peter, ‘and he’s going to have lunch with us.’

  The three of us sit and eat sandwiches while we watch the massive tiger eat his enormous piece of meat. It is the scariest thing I’ve ever seen, but it’s exciting too.

  When Rabu’s finished, he licks himself, yawns and stretches, then heads back out the door he came in.

  ‘He’s going outside for a sleep in the sun,’ says Peter.

  ‘They really are just big cats, aren’t they?’ says Chelsea. ‘Princess does that after she eats too.’

  ‘What do we do now?’ I say, feeling a little sleepy myself.

  ‘We need to take a load of hay to the zebras and deer,’ says Peter. ‘Then it will be just about time for your mum to come and get you.’

  ‘In case I forget to tell you later, Peter, we’ve had the BEST day,’ I say.

  Chelsea nods in agreement.

  As we are loading the hay, I can’t help notice that Peter keeps looking towards the elephant house. I can see he’
s worried, but he doesn’t say anything. Vets and zookeepers must get really attached to the animals they care for.

  We’re allowed to ride on the buggy with him as it tows the load of hay towards the plains animals’ area.

  Peter’s radio crackles and we hear a man’s voice over the motor of the buggy.

  ‘Change of plan,’ says Peter, smiling, and he turns the vehicle around.

  ‘Has the baby been born?’ I ask.

  ‘Is it okay?’ says Chelsea.

  ‘Whoa, slow down!’ laughs Peter. ‘Let’s just go and have a look, hey?’

  We stop outside a huge barn and tiptoe inside behind Peter. There are lots of zookeepers there, but they are all watching very quietly. We all stand behind the rails of a massive fence and peer through.

  I let out a gasp.

  There, on the ground, is a tiny baby elephant. It looks so little compared to its mother. The only movement is its little sausage-like trunk flicking gently up and down.

  ‘The calf is very weak because the mother has had so much trouble having her,’ whispers Peter. ‘The vets are waiting to see if she’ll need help standing up to feed. Her mother will try to help her.’

  I hold onto Chelsea’s arm. Already you can see how much the mother elephant loves her baby. She runs her enormous trunk over her calf’s little body, as if she’s checking it’s all right.

  ‘Please get up, little one,’ whispers a young zookeeper beside me. It feels as if all of us are holding our breath.

  The little calf struggles and falls so many times. She just can’t seem to do it. The mother elephant tries to help her with her trunk, but the baby keeps slipping and falling. She doesn’t have the strength to stand.

  She’s so beautiful. Her little ears and body are a perfect mini version of her mother. She looks so gorgeous. If only she could stand.

  The other elephants are all looking through the bars at her, and like us they are silent and worried.