How to Become a Zoo Designer

Each week, I receive at least one email from an enthusiastic young soul asking for advice on how to become a zoo designer.  Many requests are from college students, already several years into design school.  Others are from enterprising high schoolers (and a junior high schooler or two) planning their futures.  I've even corresponded with several mid-career adults, looking for guidance on how to change career paths.  Every one of them (and, I assume, you, too!) are passionate about animals and seek to share that passion with zoo guests--to help them create connections to wildlife and become advocates for our natural resources. That's very admirable.  That's where I started (and what keeps me energized), too.

But, let's talk some realities.  As a zoo (and / or aquarium) designer, you will likely work for a private design firm, not a zoo.  Zoos these days are starting to understand the value of on-staff designers, but the reality is, very few zoos actually have them; and more often than not, they do very little actual design work, or are relegated to small projects such as signage, snack stands, or demonstration gardens, leaving major capital projects to licensed architectural firms with greater resources.  These zoo positions are usually most valuable as client representatives during the design and construction phases, acting as go-betweens (and sometimes decision-makers) for the zoo administration when communicating to designers and contractors.  I do believe we will see an increase in these types of positions becoming available, though, as institutions realize the value of having staff that truly understand and are highly literate in design and construction--they can provide great insight to their consultants about the zoo itself, local regulations, and increase the efficiency of communication between consultants and staff, not to mention the fact that they understand drawings and help prevent issues down the line thus ultimately saving the zoo money.

Cities in which zoo / aquarium design firms reside

So, let's say you're ready to get a job with a firm.  Where do you start?  Within the U.S., three major firms specialize in zoo and aquarium design (depending on how you define 'major'), and are generally the three competing for the major projects: Portico Group is in Seattle; PGAV Destinations is in St. Louis; CLR is in Philadelphia.  Beyond these three, there are about 10+ small and medium firms, ranging from <5 staff to about 30 staff, located around the country that have completed zoo / aquarium design work, or specifically specialize in such.  Seattle is a hot bed of activity due to "patient zero" Jones & Jones, from which most, but not all, firms that specialize in zoo design spawned.  Wichita, New Orleans, and Boston are home to several others.  If you decide you want to be a zoo or aquarium designer, you will likely live in one of these cities.  I hope that's okay.

You've gotten a job!  Congratulations!  You've moved in, you're ready to go.  Now what's the day to day for a zoo designer?  Likely the first few years will be painful.  Trust me.  It's not what you expect.  You'll have long hours (50-60+ hour weeks regularly) staring into the abyss of the computer, drawing things that someone else designed.  Figuring out the details like the hinge on a gate or how to downspout a thematic wall.  You likely will not do site visits or even be able to meet the clients for several years, until you've proven your worth.  You may be shuffled from one project to the next without seeing a project from start to finish, often juggling multiple projects at once.  But, it does get better, although not much more glamorous!  When you do finally reach the point in your career when you get to visit the zoo you're working singularly for, you generally only get to see the inside of a conference room on a quick one or two day trip--where you'll spend the evening working in your hotel room on drawings that you didn't get to complete because you spent the whole day inside that conference room.

Still interested? Yes?  Okay--let's get to what you really want to know:  How do you become a zoo designer?

I wish there was a magic answer to this.  There is no school of zoo design.  No specific university, no highly specialized curriculum.  Right now, if you want to become a zoo designer, you have to do it of your own accord.  Most of today's successful zoo and aquarium designers fell into their jobs.  They may have done a college project or volunteered at their local zoo, but the vast majority became zoo designers by dumb luck.  They were architects or landscape architects that happened to work at a firm that happened to get a zoo project, and over time, one project became many.  Before they knew it, they were experts.  But, the fact that I get so many inquiries is telling me this is slowly changing.  As zoos evolve, and exhibits become more engaging, young people are realizing the potential for design careers focused entirely on zoos and aquariums (museums and theme parks, too!).  This will lead to more and more students with specialized experiences and focused educations.  So how will you stand out??

Here are the basics I recommend:

My alma mater, Michigan State, has a concentration within Zoology focusing on Zoos and Aquariums. If you can stand the snow, go there! (Go Green!)

• Two degrees: Architecture or Landscape Architecture AND Zoology / Biology / Animal Sciences. It does not matter which design field you choose. The majority of the early design firms specializing in zoo design were traditionally landscape architects. That has changed. Architecture and landscape architecture are inextricably integrated when it comes to zoo design. Of course, if you are more inclined to design for aquariums, choose architecture. But if you want to design only for zoos or for both zoos and aquariums, go with what is more appealing to you. Do you like to design structures? Or are outdoor environments more appealing to you? Go with what will be most interesting to you. As for the science degree, this is not required, but is very appealing to employers. This will set you apart from other design-only students. You could also just get a minor, but doing so will be very challenging, as zoology is a highly rigorous degree while design school is extremely time-consuming. It is possible, but it will not be fun.

• Focus every project where you have a choice of topic on zoos or aquariums. Believe me, it will be a challenge. You will get a lot of push-back from design profs wanting to encourage you to expand and explore. Go ahead, but if you truly believe you want to design zoos, you'll want every opportunity possible to explore this complex field.

• Get an internship at a zoo / aquarium. Doing anything. You don't have to have a design internship. Repeat. You do not need a design internship at a zoo. You do need behind-the-scenes experience. Do an animal care internship. Do a marketing internship. Do whatever kind of internship you can get. You will need to understand every aspect of zoos in order to design effectively for them.

• Get an internship at a ZOO / AQUARIUM design firm. Do not just get an internship at the local architecture firm near your university. This is a chance to see how zoo design really works, and get your foot in the door to one of the very few specialist firms in the country. While you are there, work hard. Ask lots of questions. Share your passion. We remember it when it comes time for you to send in your resume after all those years of school.

• Research and network on your own. Visit zoos and aquariums as often as possible, attend AZA conferences, visit zoo design firms, get to know designers, get to know your local zoo. Basically, ask loads of questions, read as much on the topic as possible, get tours and behind the scenes as often as possible. Learning on this topic is not going to happen in school. You have to spend your own personal time researching and educating yourself.

One of the wonderful things about the zoo and aquarium industry is that most people involved are kind and willing to help, if you ask.  Zoo and aquarium personnel are in it for

the love of animals, and usually are more than happy to answer questions or direct you to someone who can.  I had a lot of great people help me get to where I am today, and hopefully, I can repay their kindness by helping others on their own journey.  As always, if you have any questions or need advice, just ask.

If you'd like another zoo designer's opinion, check out Jon Coe's paper on how to become a zoo designer.  There is definitely much overlap!

Good luck!!

Underdogs: The Appeal of the Small Zoo

I’ve always been partial to the underdog.  Those whose beliefs and perseverance outweigh the skeptics' might by shear doggedness and tenacity.  Those tirelessly working to do right despite just scraping by. I’m one of those people who gladly buys the opening band’s CD despite not having anything on which to play it.  I always choose a local restaurant over a chain.  My March Madness bracket is upset city, and I never liked that Michael Jordan.

The same is true for zoos and aquariums.  Don’t get me wrong…I love the big guys and the top-notch experiences they offer.  Their excellence in care, leadership in conservation and education, and ability to fill a day with shows, thematic exhibits and fun activity; the star species and large, diverse collections they maintain.

But there’s just something about the little guys.  The ones caring for an oftentimes misfit collection of domestic goats, non-releasable hawks, three-strikes bears, confiscated leopards and donated snakes.  Those whose skeleton staff, supported by an army of volunteers, work 18 hour days and happily offer up their own home as an impromptu nursery or quarantine area.  Those zoos and aquariums whose budgets for capital improvements over the next 15 years barely equal the cost of a single exhibit at a world-renowned counterpart.  The little guys.  The underdogs.

So what constitutes an underdog zoo or aquarium?  It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, but on which haven’t truly come to a conclusion.  There’s something about its physical size—probably less than 35 acres; something to do with its attendance—maybe less than 100,000 annually; gotta’ include its capital expenditures, its market reach, its operating costs, its staff size and its collection size.  But, really, there’s always going to be exceptions.  What it comes down to is the feel.  Just good ole’ fashioned, gut feeling.  Like U.S. Supreme Court Justice Stewart famously said, “I shall not today attempt to further define {it}…But I know it when I see it.”

My love affair with the little guys probably began with my first real zoo job.  I spent an undergrad summer bumbling through the construction of a Colobus monkey exhibit, part of the huge Africa expansion at the Binder Park Zoo.   Flummoxed by construction documents my zoology classes hadn’t prepared me for, I found myself wandering the existing zoo grounds during lunches or after quitting time.  I remember most the intimacy of visiting prairie dogs, digging through their dirt pile exhibit, interacting with the talking ravens, housed in a welded wire mesh aviary, and the simple beauty of exhibits carefully located between the towering old growth trees of the Michigan zoo’s deciduous forest.  Even with the expansion, this zoo’s character is that of a walk in the woods; the African hoofstock and giraffes wandering the plains of a meadow that just happened to be there.

Similarly, the Central Florida Zoo, located just outside theme park mecca Orlando, takes advantage of its site to create more of an enhanced nature walk than the in-your-face, wholly man-made sensibility of a larger zoo.  Rusticity is embraced and forgiven in a setting where you might expect to spot a free-ranging and truly wild alligator or Florida panther lurking in the swampy woods of the zoo grounds.  This is a place where you know—from the moment you pull into the vehicular approach surrounded by the tunnel of live oaks dripping in Spanish moss-- to slow down, to take your time.  You can see it all and do it all.  There’s simply no rush.

Boardwalk and exhibits at CFZ

Despite the Central Florida Zoo’s lack of both pathway hierarchy and organization based on distinctly defined regions (which do in fact seem to be defining characteristics of a small zoo), you won’t get lost.  And so what if you pass by the porcupine exhibit two or three times in order to see the whole zoo.  He’s sleeping conveniently in a location where you can get a good, close look at him.  From the gravel parking lot and train ride outside the zoo gates to the elaborate spray pad surrounded by shaded seating, this zoo is quaint, and filled with an unmistakable sense of community.  In this region, so ostentatiously built for tourism, this little zoo provides an escape to normalcy and a place for residents (and tourists alike) to enjoy a quiet afternoon in nature with family.

Good sleeping spot, my friend.

Perhaps the most meaningful zoo design experience I’ve had is with the Big Bear Alpine Zoo.  PGAV’s partnership with the struggling Moonridge Zoo (as it is formerly known) began way back in 2005 when we interviewed in the beautiful San Bernardino Mountains in southern California.  The existing zoo, which was the result of many years of dedicated work rehabbing the regions’ animals devastated by negative human interactions, is located on 2 acres in the parking lot of a local ski resort.  The animals living here are non-releasable rehabs and confiscations, like Yoda, a Sawet owl, whose wing was amputated after being hit by a car.  The animals are well-cared for, but the physical Zoo itself does not reflect the level of care and the conservation / education significance of the facility.  Exhibits are chainlink and welded wire, crammed one after the other into its two acres.

Yoda from Big Bear Alpine Zoo

We were hired to create a master plan and eventually to the design a wholly new zoo on a larger site, but still on a tight budget.  And over the years, we’ve watched as the community support for the project has grown--despite bumps in the road.  One day, the new zoo will be complete; the animals will have spacious new homes, the visitors will have an enriching experience, and I’ll be absolutely humbled to have been a small part of making a difference for such a worthwhile institution.

Kit foxes released after care at Big Bear Alpine Zoo from BBAZ

So, for me, the appeal of small zoos and aquariums stems from the fact that it seems, as designers, we can affect change the most at these institutions.  These are facilities which rarely have capital for major physical changes.  Places with big visions, but limited resources.  These facilities need master plans not only for fundraising and planning purposes, but for the team building and strategizing they provide—for clarity of vision.  They need experienced consultants that can offer creative and low-cost solutions to design issues; provide guidance on guest experience.  Oftentimes, simple changes drastically affect the public perception of a place —and sometimes just the act of planning itself illustrates such commitment and resolve to achieve more that the zoo is elevated in the public’s eye.  Many of today’s powerhouses began as just ‘a small zoo,’ but with the support of the community, were able to grow slowly and steadily over the years.

Do not overlook the little guys.  Especially the little guys who’ve made the extra effort to become accredited by the AZA (or EAZA, IMATA, or AMMPA).  This is an amazing feat for an institution of any size.  And as we know, underdogs can impact the world just as mightily as the conventional leaders.  We just need to give them a chance.

Lincoln Park Zoo: Defining an Urban Zoo

Main Entry

Character and ambience are often noticed subconsciously, defining the feeling of a place; contributing to the brand.  Most people recognize historical charm or modernist style, and may understand their predilection for a certain design aesthetic.  Oftentimes, these predilections are borne from a person’s associations with comfort and happiness, as in a childhood home or the neighborhood where two people met and fell in love. The same associations can be true in zoos.  Guests come to the zoo with a whole host of preconceived notions, from their ability to correctly identify a brown bear from a sun bear to their favorite hamburger toppings.  This means that, just like the many styles of residential homes, zoos also have a variety of styles--endearing themselves to some visitors, while disaffecting others.

Formal garden with duck pond

Because zoos cannot be all things to all people, they must clearly define themselves.  And, as often is the case in architecture, taking a cue from their context (i.e. an urban zoo just north of downtown Chicago) may prove to be a well-received approach (although just as in architecture, juxtaposition from context may also be a successful strategy, i.e. the wilds of nature in the middle of New York City).

Lincoln Park Zoo is an example of using context as a guide for physical planning and aesthetic, and, in so doing, is the prototypical Urban Zoo.

Opened in 1868, Lincoln Park Zoo is one of America’s oldest, and its long history is reflected in its physical plan.  Nestled inside Lincoln Park, the zoo’s roots trace back to the addition of a pair of swans to a park pond, quickly followed by the acquisition of a bear.  As such, the zoo is a reflection of the 19th century urban park in which it was derived with grand walkways, formal gardens and ornate buildings.

This was (and still is) a place to escape the congestion and grit of early city life.  A place to recreate with the family, to socialize with friends.  A place to take time, to stroll slowly, to enjoy the softness of a green lawn under bare feet.  This was an urban park that just happened to have animals.

Gorilla at Regenstein Center for African Apes

Chimp at Regenstein Center for African Apes

Regenstein sign

Today, the Zoo is more than simply a ‘park with animals’.  And although the historic aspects have been maintained out of respect (and out of requirement--monetarily and preservation-wise), the Zoo has moved squarely into the 21st century.  The Regenstein Center for African Apes is highly regarded around the country as a leading facility for gorillas and chimps in captivity, both in the physical design as well as the husbandry practices.

Indoor African Journey

Placemaking in Africa Journey

Pygmy hippo in African Journey

The Regenstein African Journey utilizes compelling visual storytelling and theming to transport Chicagoans to jungles and savannas in a rich indoor and outdoor experience.  Portions of the Small Mammal House are fully immersive and spectacular, and the Pritzker Family Children’s Zoo, including the indoor Treetop Canopy Climbing Adventure, is an inventive and playful walk through the woods, pairing physical play with small animal exhibits.

Children's Zoo entry

Whimsical otter ID sign in Children's Zoo

Treetop Canopy Adventure

Alas, the historical nature of the Zoo does create challenges.  Despite renovations, many of the original indoor exhibits (termed ‘houses’ as in Lion House, Bird House, etc.) leave much to be desired.  The Kovler Lion House is especially depressing, with cage after small cage housing medium to large cats, including the namesake.  Although the indoor stalls do connect to outdoor exhibits, the negative perception from the indoor visual (and smell of years of stale cat urine) ruins any chance of a positive impression.  Similar in layout, but far less offensive, are the Bird and Primate Houses in which cages have been updated and refurnished and theatrical lighting added to soften the original historic nature.  The Zoo did cleverly reuse an old animal exhibit building, however, converting from its original use into a centrally located restaurant.

Lion House Interior

Tiger in Lion House

Sign in Lion House

Gift shop in Lion House

Additionally, the urban-ness of the Zoo is in itself limiting. Ironically, getting to the Zoo is somewhat challenging with $20 parking and no convenient L stop. The towering skyscrapers will never be hidden allowing a total escape into the wild. The 35-acre site is landlocked, and without acquisition from the neighboring park, will always fight for space with itself.  The historic buildings preclude demolition, and, in fact, the site itself may have historic preservation issues for future demolition, as has been the case in other zoos with bear pits and allees.

Primate House Exterior

But the in the end, these limitations are what make Lincoln Park Zoo, Lincoln Park Zoo.  The history, the urban park-like setting, the city looming just outside the gates.  City-dwellers find solace in the escape, tourists appreciate the zoo for being apropos.  For its character, its ambience.  For being…so Chicago.

Fennec fox in Small Mammal House

Small Mammal House

Why Master Plan?

A few months ago, I visited with a potential client--who will remain unnamed-- dealing with a complicated case of left-overs.  An older institution with aging and non-immersive exhibits, a disconnected and fragmented campus, and plans in the works for a sister institution.  As we toured the facilities, the director, aware of experiential and logistical issues of his multi-faceted campus, asked how I could help with one specific exhibit.  I smiled and indulged him in some top-of-the-head design suggestions about visibility and theming, but ended by asking, “And what are your plans for this space?” (indicating the mostly unused plaza surrounding the exhibit). “Well, we’re not sure.  We want to change it all.  Eventually.”  

I dropped my notebook to the floor and screamed, “Stop! Don’t touch this exhibit until you develop a master plan!”  I didn’t really do that.  But I wanted to.

What I did do was explain the importance of master planning.  Master plans are essential to the long-term success of zoos and aquariums.  They are tools for exploring and pinpointing issues. They are compasses to keep your staff on track.  They are road maps for the future.

But why, you ask.  Why do we master plan?

To answer the why, let’s look at the how.  Generally, master plans are led and completed by zoo designers, and should include three parts: Analysis, Product Development and Implementation Planning.  Each phase sets the stage for the next.

In Analysis, we look at as many aspects of the park as possible, from your market and penetration to building condition.  We pour over visitor surveys, attendance and revenue records.  We inspect each exhibit and every building.  We talk to staff from maintenance to keepers to administrators.  We gather and analyze, zeroing in on things that you’re doing well and things that are issues.  At the end of Analysis, we create a set of overriding Goals and Strategies for the extent of the master plan.

The Goals are big.  Increase attendance.  Become world leaders in conservation.  Educate our guests.  The Strategies are much more specific—and in direct response to the Analysis.

For example, if our goal is to create a financially sustainable organization, some strategies may include adding a new dining facility, increasing appeal of special events rental facilities, or creating budget-friendly new attractions.

These Goals and Strategies inform and guide the Product Development process; they pinpoint specific tasks to be achieved, specific projects to be created.  And in the Product Development stage, we delve into these projects.  We brainstorm and explore multiple options for projects—creating many more ideas than what we could feasibly achieve in the master plan period.  With these options in hand, we systematically evaluate each through the filter of the master plan goals—which often includes market testing.  At the end of the Product Development phase, we’ll have a list of selected projects with conceptual storylines, plans, sketches, imagery and rough estimates.

Tulsa Zoo Master Plan, from Tulsa Zoo

With these projects defined, we finish the master plan by completing an Implementation plan.  This phase allows us to understand ‘how’ to get these projects instated.  We create a phasing plan—when will each project be rolled out?—and a funding plan—how much capital will the zoo need to raise by what dates?  Finally, we create illustrative site plans defining what the zoo will look like at determined intervals (ie every 1, 3, or 5 years).

At the end, the zoo will walk away with a comprehensive plan to achieve specific goals over a set timeline.  Generally, master plans plan 10-15 years out.  Of course, things come up and even the best laid plans get waylaid.  These surprises are exactly why master plans are so important.  Because we spent so much time creating the guiding Goals and Strategies, any new issue that comes up should be tackled through the same lenses as the planned projects.  Of course, Goals and Strategies may be adjusted over the years, but if the zoo finds their strategic outlook has changed dramatically from the master plan…it’s time to master plan again!

“The Master Plan gave us direction to accomplish these goals and puts us on the path to creating a more enjoyable, interactive and rich experience for the future,” said Stuart Strahl, director of Brookfield Zoo.

Finally, master plans are critical for zoos to move forward—logistically.  Through a master plan, zoos have specific projects to show off, to fundraise for.  The master plan provides essential visual and verbal descriptions that get the market excited and motivated to give.  Not only that, the master plan is a concise definition of who the zoo is (brand today), and where they want to go (brand tomorrow).  It’s a great handbook for employees, and a wonderful platform for marketing.

If your zoo doesn't have a master plan, or its master plan is out of date, the best time to start a new one is right now.

Minnesota Zoo: Be True to Yourself

The Minnesota Zoo, located in the southern suburbs of the Twin Cities, has long been on my list of must-sees, but especially so after the opening of the much lauded Russia’s Grizzly Coast four years ago.  Of course I would find myself flying to the Great White North a few days before Thanksgiving—what better time of year to visit?  Luckily for me, it was a beautiful, sunny, warm day with just enough visitors to make it interesting.

The Zoo is located near a wildlife preserve and surrounded by residential neighborhood.  The grounds are beautifully wooded with several lakes and wetlands.  Most of the exhibits are new or recently renovated, with those untouched slated for improvements soon.  The Zoo is large enough to fill most of a day (I saw everything except the Farm in a leisurely 5 hours), and is well-organized, avoiding large stretches of nothing to see or having to backtrack.

But what makes the Zoo so interesting to me is its understanding of self.  It’s a very self-aware Zoo.

You may think my next statement is obvious, but its important.  The Zoo is located in Minnesota.  Snowy, cold Minnesota.  This is not balmy Florida.  This is not even temperate St. Louis.  This is a very specific climate.  Cold in the winter.  Not as cold in the summer.  Why is this important?  Let me tell you.

First, climate dictates animal collection.  Many zoos try to shoe-horn species into their collection based on popularity with their market, such as African mammals in Canada or polar bears in the Bahamas.  While this can be done successfully, it is very limiting in that it restricts animal access to outdoors.  This in turn either increases project costs by creating massive indoor exhibits or creates distinct seasonality for the exhibits.  Minnesota Zoo made the decision to feature climatically appropriate species along their outdoor trails.  This means the animals will be active and happy year-round, making for a great experience for those hearty enough to brave the exterior exhibits in winter.

The Zoo has invested in some wonderful indoor exhibits as well--which leads to my next point: Climate dictates organization.  Minnesota Zoo realized that in order to attract any guests at all during the long cold winter, many exhibits would need to be indoors.  Instead of scattering those indoor exhibits along a main path throughout the zoo, the indoor exhibits are clustered around the main entry.  This allows guests to take off their winter coats, drop them into a locker, if they so choose, and spend several hours enjoying the zoo in a comfortable environment.

What’s more, the indoor exhibits are genuinely good.  The Tropics Trail features rainforests from around the globe allowing a broad range of mixed species exhibits-- including a beautiful reef tank featuring the unusual zebra shark and--when I was there--the amazingly popular tank-cleaning diver.

As for Russia’s Grizzly Coast, it is genuinely engaging, featuring many charismatic species including brown bears, sea otters, tigers and leopards in beautiful and complex exhibits.  The rather simple tiger exhibit is huge, and even when the tiger is far in the distance, can easily be seen due to the slope of the exhibit and the elevated, center viewing platform (although I was there when the foliage was dormant, so my experience may be different from others').

Throughout, the Zoo thoughtfully designed places to encourage up-close viewing of the animals.  At the small, but well-executed African penguin exhibit, the exhibit setting extends into the guest space via climbing rocks to allow kids to get face to face with the penguins.  The bear exhibits have dens with windows--and they actually use them.  The cat exhibits are long and skinny so they can be seen even when fully asleep on a rock.

Of course, I am obligated to find some faults.  Overall, my biggest concern was with the interpretives.  They were too heavy with text and generally, not integrated into the thematic story of the experience.  They were in no way terrible; they simply were not up to the level of design of the physical habitats.

My other concern was revenue locations.  This may be a result of visiting during winter when many stands are closed for the season, but I found myself wishing for a nice place to stop and have lunch at the halfway point near the Grain Elevator.  Perhaps a sit down restaurant overlooking one of the lovely spacious exhibits of the Northern Trail, or adjacent to one of the Tiger exhibits would work well.  At the main entry building, the zoo restaurant (a food court) is directly next to another snack stand, Penguin Café, which seemed to me would hurt profits.  I could be wrong though.  And of course, the retail shop is in the wrong spot entirely—located between food court and Penguin Café.  To maximize profits, always locate near the entry--and encourage guests to exit through the gift shop.

Overall, the Minnesota Zoo is a great zoo and highly recommended.  If you live nearby, remember the zoo is winter friendly, so go visit in January.  I swear you’ll be just fine.

Giraffe Feeding Beneficial to Animals

Recently, I was engaged in a friendly debate about the merits (or faults) of a giraffe feeding experience.  One of the issues that came up was whether or not the experience negatively affected the animals.  As it turns out, a student at my alma mater, Michigan State University, was wondering the very same thing. His research, documented via poster for the AZA Conference Poster Session, indicates giraffe feeding programs act as a form of enrichment for the animals, and are therefore beneficial.  His preliminary results follow:

Effects of Guest Feeding Programs on Captive Giraffe Behavior

Effects of Guest Feeding Programs on Captive Giraffe Behavior

Effects of Guest Feeding Programs on Captive Giraffe Behavior

Effects of Guest Feeding Programs on Captive Giraffe Behavior

Designing Zoos is Storytelling

As some of you may know, writing fiction is a hobby of mine. Recently, I was awarded a Runner-Up honor in a national writing contest. In an interview related to the contest, I discussed how designing zoos affects my writing and vice versa. (And, my story is sort of about animals, so it's relevant!) Check out the interview and story here.

The Greening of Zoos

Recently, the PGAV Specialty Development Team has been spending a lot of time focusing on practical applications of green principles in the complex world of zoos and aquariums.  (We have spent very little time looking at aquariums as the amount of energy required to run an aquarium is beyond the practical approaches we are familiar with at our basic level of understanding.)  But, nonetheless, zoos are making strides in the green world.  And are finally getting recognized for their efforts. In 2010, Cincinnati Zoo and Botanical Gardens was named the National Energy Star Greenest Zoo in America  for their work including a Platinum LEED building and the installation of solar panels over their parking lot.  That same year, the Indianapolis Zoo received a Governor’s Award of Environmental Excellence for their recycling program, and was the first zoo in the nation to receive the EPA’s Green Power Leadership Award for their commitment to purchase electricity created by green means.

But, I was curious.  What are most zoos doing these days to become green, or at least, to give the impression that they are ‘going green?’  And, how many of these practices are things that we as zoo designers can positively influence or encourage through design?

Last month, the Zoo Design SDT investigated those questions through a rather admittedly simple exercise: We browsed the internet to find green zoos and their practices.

Each of us collected the green practices of three zoos by searching for ‘green zoo’ on Google, then searching for all of the practices that zoo had published online.  We then sorted the practices into general categories, like Sustainable Purchasing, Solar Panels, and LEED Projects.

We quickly realized that these categories fall into two overall groupings:  Operational Practices and Physical Plan Components, or “Things we probably can’t affect” and “Things we definitely can affect,” respectively.

After gathering all of these practices, it is abundantly clear that although zoos are making strides to become responsible green leaders in their communities, there is a lot of room to grow.  Most zoos have strong recycling and composting programs, have initiated a green purchasing program for zoo products (like compostable or corn based dining wares and recyclable content paper products), and have implemented strategies for decreasing utilities usage (like programmable thermostats and lighting on sensors).  But more than that, consistent programs are scarce.

And physical plan green principles are the least implemented thus far.  This indicates that although zoos have the best intentions, we have a long way to go, and as zoo designers, we are perfectly perched to help guide zoos through into the next generation of zoo design: Green zoo design.

To review realistic green options for exhibit design, re-check out my previous post "Green Design in Zoos."

Green Design in Zoos

Back in October 2010, I was honored to be a part of the AZFA (American Zoo Facilities Association) National Conference in St. Louis, MO.  In the shadow of my green genius partner, Mariusz Bleszynski (AIA, LEED AP), we presented a talk about the real nuts and bolts of green design in a zoo exhibit.

Because so much green design talk is generalized, we decided to tackle the issue head-on.  What are the practical applications of green construction in a zoo?  Most zoos utilize green methods somewhere on site, but usually it's applied in what I call the "easy places": nutrition centers, gift shops, special events pavilions.  Places that are typical construction in a non-traditional setting.  But the question always comes up...how do we make a green EXHIBIT?

Mariusz and I put our heads together and came up with a list of specific things that can, in some cases, be easily incorporated into an exhibit.  In other cases, its more difficult--generally because it costs more up front.

I've included a link to the AZFA 2010_If I Were A Green Exhibit powerpoint presentation, but for those who just want the highlights, here's a list of our top tips:

1.   Maximize Recycled Content: Reuse existing structures, spec materials that are recycled or can easily be recycled; Minimize non-recycled or hard to recycle materials like concrete!

2.  Use Geothermal Heating / Cooling: In thermally balanced environments, you can utilize this energy to heat / cool buildings and even small pools.  Wells can be placed almost anywhere, including beneath the exhibit or building.

3.  Use Solar Panels Strategically: Solar panels cost A LOT so use sparingly if at all UNLESS you have extra dollars to spend on green technology, want to create an educational exhibit, or can use to power specific items such as signage, interactives, lighting, gates, etc.

4.  Water Recycling: Can be any scale from rain barrels from roofs to zoo wide programs collecting run-off and wash down.  Can be used for exhibit wash down, irrigation, and toilet flushing.

5. Use Native Plants: Eliminates irrigation and fertilization needs and can be selected to mimic just about any environment.

6. Use Water Based Chillers instead of Traditional Air Based: More efficient, less noisy, longer lasting.  25% more expensive.  A bargain!

Within the presentation, we outlined initial costs, return on investment, and developed imagery to help everyone understand how these green technologies affect the visitor experience.

What is your zoo doing to become more green?

How Animal Behavior Drives Zoo Design

Some designers begin with a poem.  Others look at the educational message.  Still others envision a place.  I always start with the animal. When I start my design process with the animal, I don't literally mean that I sit down with Google (or even--do you remember this--flipping through books!) spending  hours researching the animal's natural history.  What I mean is that I immediately register what I know about that animal and have that inform all aspects of design.  Of course, I've been doing this for a while and I have quite a bit of animal trivia logged away in my own dusty library of grey matter.

But, really, what is it that informs design?  What information about an animal is truly useful in creating its surroundings?  The subject of animal behavior is a nearly unending panacea of amazing stories, but determining what facts help inform design can be an overwhelming question.

To help you navigate the masses of information available about specific animals, I've condensed the vast subject of animal behavior into six basic categories relevant to zoo designers.

1. Food Acquisition:  Are they carnivores, omnivores, or herbivores?

2. Social Structure:  Do they live in groups, pairs, or singly?

3. Time of Activity: Are they nocturnal, diurnal, or crepuscular (active at dawn and dusk)?

4. Micro-Habitat: Do they live primarily in trees (arboreal), on land (terrestrial), in water (aquatic), or some combination of any or all of the three?

5. Personality: Are they shy, curious, skittish, indifferent, vicious?

6. Reproduction: Does their reproductive strategy require any particular element in their physical environment?

Each of the above will provide insight into the physical surroundings that will best house an animal in captivity.  For example, carnivores tend to exert energy in bursts, spending the rest of the day sleeping.  They also tend to prefer the high vantage points where they can scan the horizon and smell the air.  Knowing this, we'd immediately suggest providing this carnivore with several high points in their exhibit, preferably where they can be in close proximity to the guest as they sleep.  Jungala at Busch Gardens achieves this well with their tiger pop-up--highest point of the exhibit is actually a viewing window!

Another great example is the amazing bower bird.  We could easily create just another generic aviary with a gravel floor or concrete basin.  But understanding their reproductive behavior would allow us to create an environment whereby they are able to create their own habitat.  {Or, more than that, we could re-create one of their creations on the guest side of things in order to illustrate their great ability.}

Beyond these basics, understanding animal behavior encourages us to strive for ever-more enriching environments.  To design an enrichment device, or simply to provide a habitat that provides the most basic form of enrichment--choice, requires that you understand the natural history of an animal.

Oftentimes designers who do not have a specialization in animals, jump immediately to the guest experience; creating a place or a story for the visitor.  But, we must understand that a good guest experience at a zoological park revolves around the ANIMAL, not the setting we create.  People come to the park to see animals.  And if the animals look unhealthy or unhappy, the most beautiful ancient Mayan ruins won't save the experience.  Look to the animals first.  Be inspired by their lives before creating a story, and you'll see that your final product will be by far the best experience possible for both guests and the animals living there.

Every animal has a story.  Its our job to tell it.

Resources:

"Integrating Animal Behavior and Exhibit Design" by John Seidensticker and James Doherty

"Part Five: Behavior" from Wild Mammals in Captivity

Snow Day at the Zoo!

As this week’s monster winter storm sweeps across the country, I keep hearing one thing:  Snow Day!  Not for me, of course, but the magic of the snow day, even if it’s a treasure that now only others get to enjoy, is infectious. The snow day! To me, it’s luxuriating in the extra hours of winter sleep snuggled under a pile of thick blankets.  It’s waking up at noon and pulling on my snow pants over my pjs, my moon boots over my thick wool socks, and squeezing my puffball hat over my tangled mess of bed head hair, then venturing out with my similarly dressed sister and neighborhood compadres to build a mazelike snow fort through the front yard.  And only after pelting each other with perfectly compacted snowballs until Timmy’s red and snowy face gives way to tired tears do we succumb to the cold and go back inside to lay our soaked mittens, hats and scarves on the wood stove and warm up with a cup of hot cocoa.  Ah the snow day!

But these days, snow days mean a little more to me.  They mean a zoo-born Siberian tiger in Tennessee who’s never seen snow before.  They mean the beaver in the Minnesota Zoo who’s hidden inside his iced over dam, cuddled up hopefully next to the guest viewing window.  They mean the polar bears luxuriating in the extra hours of winter sleep snuggled under a pile of thick, white snow.

They mean experiences people forget to experience at the zoo.

Winter is not prime time for most temperate zoos.  Winter is in fact the lost season.  The dredges.  The figurative Atlantis.  The time for zoos to get projects done since no one is at the zoo anyway.  But what if winter wasn’t the dead zone for zoos?  Can we make winter exciting for guests, and profitable for zoos?

We’re asking that question right now with one of our master plan clients.  Winter is traditionally the forgotten time for them.  Half the zoo essentially shuts down.  No food or drink carts can be found.  No Dippin’ Dots, no popcorn stands.  Most of the restaurants and satellite retail shops are shut down, too.  Not to mention the rides, and the shows.

They do this, they say, because most January and February days see only a lowly 15 people, up to 100 on a good day.  And this makes sense.   In this way, they keep the operating costs down.

But what if we didn’t need to shut down most of the zoo? What if we made an attempt to get guests to show up, even on a snowy cold day like the ones we’re seeing this week?  What if snow day meant Zoo Day?

As part of the master plan process, we’ve done a quick survey of zoo websites to see if anyone out there is making a big deal out of winter.  Generally speaking, most zoos are not.

Some zoos do market special themed weekends with unique activities like ice sculpture carving and music and dance presentations.  Toledo Zoo even gives it a cute name…Frozentoesen!  Some zoos, like Toledo, also have added more indoor activities like an activity zone with bouncy houses and climbing equipment.

But what was missing was an actual campaign to show visitors what a great day they can have at the zoo during the winter.  What about mapping out a winter experience route that not only highlights the indoor experiences and the shortest routes between them, but also stops at exhibits where animals will be more active and happy in the winter, like the polar bears?  If zoos marketed this specific route, told people how long a walk it was between indoor activities, and maybe went the extra mile to provide enclosed transport from the furthest points, maybe we’d see an increase in attendance.   We know people are willing to come to the zoo in the winter, as witnessed by the saturation of holiday lights programs at zoos across the country—and the success of all of these programs.  But what is it that keeps these folks from coming during the day hours?

I think it’s a simple lack of understanding that the zoo is just as good a winter experience (and sometimes better) as a summer experience.

Of course, we could also do as the Minnesota Zoo does, and physically plan the zoo to have a continuous linkage between indoor zoo experiences thus providing a wholly indoor winter time zoo.  But for those who aren’t ready, willing or able to go down that road, why not just first try with simple marketing campaigns and guest experience strategies.  Why not just first try.  Why not just…try?

Speak up.  Let me know why or why not you don’t visit the zoo in the winter.  Or, let me know if your zoo does anything special for winter experiences.

Zoo Exhibits in Three Acts

Forgive me. This post will not wrap up cleanly. There will be no final conclusion. No simple 5 step process. This post is simply my musings on design philosophy in zoos. So indulge me. But just don’t expect a Hollywood ending. Last night, I took my husband begrudgingly to the movies to watch “Black Swan”--which he was unwilling to see until one of his buddies had seen it and confirmed that it was, in fact, worthy of a watch. To me, it was breathtaking. Mesmerizing. Exhilarating. But this is not a website on film review, so I’ll leave it at that. But, what is relevant is the fact that, a day later, I am still thinking about it. Analyzing what made it appeal to me so much. Obsessed with how it attached itself around my subconscious, seeping into my most mundane daily thoughts. How did it achieve this? What made it so special to me?

The matter is important in the context of zoo design for one simple reason: this level of affect is the goal of zoo exhibits. We are in the business of creating experiences and memories that so tightly hang in your mind that you have no choice but to not only think about the plight of wildlife or the environment, but take action to protect it. That’s the real goal, isn’t it? Name the last exhibit that did this to you. Go ahead. Try.

To say that exhibits rarely achieve this is an understatement. So, on my morning walk through the woods with the dog (and I’ll amend that for today’s walk to ‘on my snowy morning walk’), I continued to obsess. And I think I figured it out.

Think about any story that grabbed you—a film, a book, a campfire tale. Most were told in the familiar and customary three act structure. If you haven’t been to literature class in twenty or so years, here’s the Cliff’s Notes version: a story is divided into three simple parts—the Setup, the Confrontation, the Resolution. A three act structure allows the listener (or viewer) to first empathize or relate to the main character, understand (and care about) the basic problem the story is addressing, then finally celebrate the resolution of said problem. Practically all major movies follow this structure, and most books do as well. It is followed because it works. It’s as simple as that. Now, just because a film or book follows this format, doesn’t mean the story or the execution won’t fall flat, absolutely ruining an otherwise fine idea. There must be more. There must be something that draws you in. You must first empathize with the character (or animal, in our case). You have to relate to him or her. In the first act, we must see a little bit of ourselves in the subject—our failures, our faults, our dreams, our aspirations—or we’ll just not care.

Empathy can carry us only so far, and as we move through the action, or confrontation, something else needs to take hold. We already care about the character, now what makes us hold on? In “Black Swan”, the hook was a purely visceral, physical reaction. This movie was R rated, so the director expertly leveraged sex, drugs, and pain (which I’ve never seen, nor will I, I’m guessing, ever see in a zoo setting!), but combined with the familiar Swan Lake melodies and simple beauty of dance, the body was fully engaged.

This movie was about evoking a physical reaction, every bit as much as it was about the emotional. And nothing I’ve ever seen brought the two together as well as during the resolution of the film. Built into a tidal wave of chaotic flurry, where every frame was an expertly composed visual feast, and moment after moment brought tension and exhilaration to its absolute apex, then, just as we believe we can take no more, the film concluded. Right there. Right at the peak. Leaving you breathless, body abuzz in euphoria. I left the theater alight. Grinning from ear to ear despite the desperately tragic film I’d just experienced. And I’m still thinking about it. Still wondering how we achieve this kind of attachment to zoo exhibits. How we achieve this moment of perfection.

What is Bravery?

Yesterday, Wordpress (the website that allows me to bring this blog to you) sent me an e-mail suggesting that I write a post addressing “the bravest thing you’ve ever done.”  It struck me that I could apply that question directly to my profession, as often bravery is at the heart of design. To be “brave”, according to Dictionary.com, means:

1. To meet or face courageously: to brave misfortunes.

2. To defy; challenge; dare.

How often do I meet or face courageously?  I might generously answer: daily.  Some might say just getting out of bed can be an act of courage.  But that’s not what we’re talking about here.  Daily, as design professionals, we must make decisions.  We must choose the width of a path, the height of a wall, the length of a beam.  We must decide how to communicate our ideas to our peers and to our clients.  We must be courageous to suggest our deepest thoughts to those who are capable of shooting us down with a shake of the head, crushing our hours of glorious contemplation in a split second.  We must speak our minds and forge a path.  As designers, some might argue, requires courage daily.  Not to mention braving misfortunes.

But I’m more intrigued by the second definition.  To defy.  To challenge.  To Dare.  How often do we actually reach those lofty heights?  How often do we truly put our necks out-- suggest something contrary to our clients’ preconceived notions; contrary to our bosses’ well-intentioned strategies?  Not often, I’d guess.

As I’ve said before, design, especially zoo design, tends to push forth, birthing innovation once in a blue moon, only to then regurgitate and spew forth a lesser and lesser version of that once impressive original concept.  Instead of continually challenging our designs, instead of continually working to improve the previous iteration, to learn from our mistakes and successes, we far too often just simply pull out examples and drawings from the last time we built that barrier or concepted that raptor exhibit, and copy.  Copy.  Copy.

So as I consider the question ‘What is the bravest thing I’ve ever done?’ I realize, embarrassingly, I haven’t done it yet.

DZ's First Zoo Review: The Mote Aquarium

Yes, folks, I know.  An aquarium is NOT a zoo, but unfortunately, 'Zoo and Aquarium Review' just doesn't sound quite as snappy.  So, kind reader, we begin our new segment "Zoo Review" with a water zoo, the Mote Aquarium in Sarasota, Florida. 

The Mote Aquarium is associated with the Mote Marine Research Laboratory, and as such has a few opportunities to view "behind the scenes".  The Laboratory also allows for exhibits based on its rescue and rehab functions, showcasing rehabbed animals.  Despite these unique aspects, the Aquarium is, however,  simply a small, out-of-date institution. 

Overall, the Mote Aquarium feels incredibly sterile, with very little immersion and an amazing amount of concrete.  Despite the fact that it seems reasonably clean and well maintained (exception being water quality), the Aquarium feels extremely out-of-date and generally dismal.  Additionally, the Aquarium is supposedly divided into thematic or conceptual galleries, however, it is completely unclear where one area starts and another stops (except when you are lost down an endless hallway or parking lot--more on this to come). 

Information, on the other hand, is overly abundant through larger than life graphic panels showing off lots of words.  These panels are apparently serving as the Aquarium's theming.

Another puzzling aspect is its division into three distinct buildings spread over a small campus.  Not only is it unclear which buildings are actually associated with the Aquarium (since the parking that sits central to the campus also serves a marina and bird sanctuary), it is unclear where to even purchase tickets and begin the experience. 

The species that should be the stand-out, hands-down star of the Aquarium, the Sharks, have two separate underwhelming tanks.  I'd give the Aquarium the benefit of the doubt with the water quality in the main tank, hoping perhaps they were having an off-day, but one look into the underwater viewing shows disgusting algae and debris floating around the bottom and growing on the walls.  The single underwater viewing area at this tank is horribly undersized for the amount of guests wanting to have a look and for the size of the tank. The above water viewing feels like a back-of-house area that you've accidentally stumbled upon.  This covered outdoor exhibit could be very interesting with only a few changes, but as it stands currently, it is simply a sad, dirty cage. 

The second, much smaller shark tank has much higher water quality, and an attempt at rockwork and coral.  This is completely undermined by the sad state of the coral, however, as it appears to have been rubber stamped across the tank; only one kind of artificial coral was used, and the attachment points are painfully obvious.  Additionally, the lovely sandy bottom seems to have been over taken by invasive plastic marine plants. 

Smaller Shark Tank

Plastic coral and plants

After finding our way through building one, housing the sharks and several smaller tanks, the gift shop and the kitschy 50s restaurant, we found ourselves back in the parking lot, wondering how to find the sea turtles, manatee, and dolphins.  After wandering around the parking lot for a while, we finally notice sea turtles and manatees painted onto the pavement, subtly guiding us across a busy street and into another building. 

Here, we find a confusing mess of hallways and outdoor breezeways, and somehow manage to stumble upon the last few minutes of the dolphin show.  This show is an informal educational demonstration, but attracts hundreds of people, crammed around the metal railing of the rectangular pool. 

From what we saw, the dolphins demonstrate simple behaviors as an illustration of the training techniques used by the Aquarium.  After the show, we walked aimlessly around trying find an actual exhibit for the dolphins, or at least an underwater viewing panel.  Unfortunately,  none was to be found. 

This building also houses the sea turtle rehab tanks which are about as exciting as they sound.  Several elevated concrete tanks are squeezed into a small room, carefully watched over by several docents.  A friendly sign across the room indicated the sea turtles are getting a new home, however, as a new sea turtle exhibit is currently being built.  I'd like to get back to see that, as it seems it will be the only new exhibit built at this Aquarium in years.

Finally, the manatees.  In true Mote form, the manatee exhibit is a concrete box.  This does not offend me as much as the water quality in the box.  The water was so murky the manatee itself bumped into the window once or twice as we stood there.  Although it appeared an additional pool, perhaps a holding or med pool, was adjacent and available to the manatees, the exhibit pool was very small for two critters.  Three large windows allowed plenty of viewing, but the glare from the surrounding exterior windows, with some help from the  milky water, made it nearly impossible to enjoy.  Add the tiny pool, and the overall experience was rather depressing.

Manatee Exhibit

Manatee at window

Cloudy water and natural light equals "Is that the manatee?"

Overall, the Mote needs some help.  Understanding that replacing and rebuilding exhibits is an extremely expensive process, I've put together the following Top Tips for the Mote Aquarium to increase its appeal and guest experience:

1.  Clean up / Fix up!

This is the easiest and, surprisingly, sometimes, the most effective way to have immediate impact on the guest experience.  Throughout the Aquarium,  water quality was dank, acrylic was scratched, and signs were fading and falling apart.  Take a few months and several thousands of dollars, and truly dedicate all resources to fixing and cleaning those things that are failing, or generally dingy.  Fresh coats of paint in warm neutrals and soft earth tones, rather than the primaries, cool greys, and every-shade-of-blue-known-to-man currently used, would also quickly update the Aquarium into at least the year 2000. 

Additionally, make an effort to hide items that should be out of sight to guests, ie skimming nets, hoses, food buckets, as they were seen sitting in plain sight in several places.  Buy a simple Rubbermaid closet and throw the junk in there!

2.  Invest in CLEAR Directionals

Understanding that a small aquarium generally serves a repeat customer base can mean the Mote Aquarium may be under the impression that directionals are not as needed as at, say, SeaWorld, which caters predominantly to tourists.  However, without seeing their attendance demographics, I'd wager a bet that the Mote, being located where it is in Sarasota, Florida near a tourist shopping destination, is actually catering more to tourists than locals (or at least equally so).  This means a large portion of the guests have never been to the Aquarium, and will, as we did, get lost and frustrated trying to locate a) the entry and b) the dolphins, sea turtles, and manatees, among other things.  Mote, please, do yourself a favor...invest in signage, paving, and landscaping to help better direct your guests.  And, take advantage of the walk between buildings with educational interpretives, or even just a dolphin topiary or two!

3.  Invest in your possible Star Species

If you have little money, but want to increase attendance, profit or guest experience, always, always choose a star species to add / redesign / renovate.  The star is marketable, even if the project is simply giving the animals a new home.  Marketability means people will come, people will spend money on plush, people will tell their friends. 

This may seem greedy, but what it means is an increase in revenue and hopefully profit, which means an ability to spend money on less marketable species who are really needing new homes, too. 

Who am I suggesting for the Mote?  Sharks!  Sharks are the dangerous darlings of the sea.  People love sharks; adults and kids alike are drawn to the allure of the elusive grey ghosts and respond to the element of fear instilled by the animals.  Plus, renovating or adding to the dolphins doesn't make sense as they are already the Stars of the Aquarium, and guests are more than willing to make the trek to see them.  Why not reward the guests for exploring the first building by elevating the sharks to Star status, then a Star species would anchor both buildings.  Spend some money on this exhibit , Mote (How much you ask?  Between $5 and 10 million), and I promise, you will see immediate results.

Mote Aquarium Overall Score:

Multi-Disciplinary Integration...A Mouthful of Fun!

It doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, but multi-disciplinary integration in tourism attractions continues to roll forward as a newly emerging trend.  Discussed before purely as the evolution of 'science-based institutions', this trend is finding its way into all forms of tourism destinations. 

Consider Atlantis Resort in the Bahamas and Dubai.  Not only are these places  over the top resorts with beautiful beaches and luxurious appointments, but they've integrated a themed water park as well as an aquatic life park into their campuses.  Aquariums are found throughout the properties, and not just typical ho-hum aquariums either; we're talking Aquarium! aquariums.  Much like Discovery Cove, visitors can take part in swimming with dolphins as well as enjoying other animal attractions, such as a shark tank and jellies.  They've taken a resort and integrated a science-based institution.  However, Atlantis is not the focus of this post. 

Recently, in my work, we've been spending a lot of time making fun and beautiful places without stepping back to realize what it is we're really doing; without taking time to truly translate our actions into theory from which everyone in our profession can learn.  That is what this post is about.  Refreshing our memories about multi-disciplinary integration. 

Its happening all around us.  Theme parks more seriously integrating conservation issues.  Zoos incorporating science-center interactives which are about more than just the size of a polar bear's paw.  Aquariums introducing land-based animal habitats.  Subtle changes, yes, but all moving toward the ultimate in end goals...creating a one stop shop for science, education, AND entertainment.  However, in the end, I do believe these institutions will filter out into two sects: those based on science and education (ie zoos and aquariums now), and those based on play (ie theme parks and children's museums now). 

Some thoughts on what we'll see in the coming years:

• Zoos (and possibly aquariums) utilizing gentle, family ride systems to introduce new ways to experience animals

• More Atlantis-style resorts with focus on conservation and local habitats, including breathtaking animal habitats presented in ways not seen in zoos and aquariums

• Science centers across the board becoming Life Science centers by including animal exhibits

• Theme parks spending millions to incorporate Educational elements, either as stand alone attractions or as enhancements to rides and shows

Jacksonville Zoo recently opened a new attraction, Asian Bamboo Garden, being touted as a 'garden' first, and 'exhibit' second.  The attraction features nearly 2.5 acres of Asian gardens, with a small Komodo dragon exhibit tucked away into one corner.  The Zoo focused on botanicals for this project, rather than zoological.  This is rather extraordinary, if you think about it.  Concept design always begins with the question: What's marketable?  Projects are built to get folks through the door.  Jacksonville is saying with this project, gardens are profitable.  Generally, to me, zoos that call themselves 'zoos and botanical gardens' do so simply because they have beautiful grounds, not because they ever intend to add new attractions based on gardens.  However, Jacksonville Zoo and Botanical Garden has done just that, truly illustrating a multi-disciplinary integration in the direction of science.

And, finally, Columbus Zoo. Through a series of moves that appears to be an effort to shift almost 180 degrees from a science-based institution into a mini-resort, the Zoo has announced the initiation of a feasibility study on adding a hotel to the already massive complex.  Recently, the zoo added a golf course and a water park (check out their fun website).  Considering the Zoo is actually a zoo and an aquarium, the complex is quickly becoming a major multi-disciplinary destination, with the focus shifting from science to play.  Columbus Zoo again illustrates the emergence of multi-disciplinary integration. I'm extremely confident that as we move forward in the evolution of science-based institutions, we'll see many, many more of these kinds of integrations.

Rotation Exhibits: How To Guide

The idea of rotating animals through several exhibits as a means of enrichment and variability is a relatively new one.  The popularity of the idea is widespread, despite the requirements of large spaces, intensive staff involvement, and complex (or flexible) holding facilities.  Generally, we've been incorporating some sort of rotation capability in all of our exhibits for the past several years.  If the staff is willing, the advantage is great:  providing several smaller exhibits in which to rotate through the animals during the day provides active animals, which in turn, provides engaged guests. 

The upcoming Louisville Zoo Glacier Run exhibit takes full advantage of this type of exhibitry.  Despite the main exhibit area being on the small size, the bears here will have several play areas away from the main exhibit, thereby increasing the overall territory of the animals.  The downside to this is casual visitors may not understand the complexity of the bears' lifestyle, and may judge the exhibit as inadequate. 

However, understanding how to incorporate this important concept will enhance most zoo exhibitry, and many times, is a creative solution to a tricky problem.  Read more about rotation from da man, Jon Coe, here.

Alternative Zoo Design Revolution?

For those following the conversation yesterday about the next big step in zoo design, I'm posting the article by Coe and Mendez that outlines his theory of the "Unzoo." Let me know what you think!

The Next Zoo Design Revolution?

Landscape immersion, which is a type of design intended to "immerse" the visitor in the same natural habitat as the animal, effectively began with the Woodland Park Zoo's gorilla exhibit.  Created by zoo design godfathers Grant Jones and Jon Coe as a collaboration with Woodland Park then-director David Hancocks and biologist Dennis Paulson, they coined the term landscape immersion, and thus began the philosophical shift from a homocentric view of zoos to a biocentric view.  We now spend massive amounts of resources re-creating "natural" places and cultural phenomena, in an effort to connect people to the earth; to inspire respect of natural places.  Back in 1978, this style of design was fresh, new, innovative, revolutionary; nearly thirty years later, the style has become so a part of zoo culture that any exhibit not designed in this manner is questioned for its validity and chances of success.  However, should landscape immersion continue to be our design standard?  How do we push to the next step beyond landscape immersion?

True and successful landscape immersion requires designers to experience a habitat first-hand before beginning to design a re-creation of it.  They research the essence of the habitat, the ecosystem structure within the habitat, and the natural ebbs and flows the habitat would undergo.  The animal is an integral part of the ecosystem, not just the centerpiece of a painted scene.  The visitor is whisked away to another world, drastically different from the asphalt sidewalks and ice cream shops of the zoo midway.  Today's landscape immersion is, too often, not this.  Today's landscape immersion usually means planting the visitor space with the same plants as seen in the animal exhibit, and using props from a culture as shade structures, means to hide back-of-house buildings, and educational interpretives.  Moreover, today's visitor to a modern zoo no longer has their breath taken away by a landscape immersion exhibit; they simply expect to be immersed in an animal's habitat. The magic of landscape immersion is gone.  Along with that, the opportunity to educate and inspire is waning, because, as Coe has said himself, "Only the emotional side, in the end, has the power to generate changes in behavior" (Powell, 1997).  If the "oh my" moment is gone, does education stand a chance?  

Landscape immersion does not generate longer experiences, as commonly believed.  This can easily be shown true by simply observing visitor behavior at exhibits.  After studying visitor length-of-stay time at viewing areas, little to no difference can be observed between the old, concrete moated tiger exhibit at Philadelphia Zoo and the landscape and cultural immersion tiger exhibit at Disney's Animal Kingdom.  The average maximum stay time of 90 seconds has been consistently shown through observations at other exhibits as well, including the gorilla exhibit and bongo exhibit at Cincinnati Zoo, and the polar bear exhibits at Detroit Zoo and Louisville Zoo.  Despite renovations and millions of dollars spent on landscape, rockwork, and interpretives, the most we can expect of our visitors is a minute and a half.  Is this time shorter now than at immersion exhibits in the early 1980's?  What can we do now to increase this time?  Or, what can we do to get the most impact for our minute and a half?

One of the biggest complaints against landscape immersion is the difficulty, generally, in spotting and clearly seeing the animals.  Therefore, proximity to animals should be a chief concern in exhibit design.  Visitors want to experience something special.   They want to do something no one else gets to do; something they have never done.  Most importantly, in doing these things, visitors feel connected to the animals.  Creating the connection should be of the utmost concern for designers and zoos. 

Another component lacking in modern zoo design (not just landscape immersion specifically) is the integration of behavioral enrichment into the basic design process.  Too often behavioral enrichment is an aspect of the exhibit that is not addressed by zoos to the architectural designer, even if the behavioral enrichment program is being developed concurrently.  Most zoos still see the enrichment program as a separate aspect of the new exhibit to be implemented by the keepers after the exhibit is opened.  Most architectural designers are ignorant to the importance of behavioral enrichment as a means not only to increase the health and welfare of the animal, but also in creating an active exhibit with active animals, which translates into longer stay times.  Thus, enrichment generally is not addressed as an aspect of design, and ultimately we see beautiful new landscape immersion exhibits with large orange boomer balls and blue plastic barrels.  Can these be considered cultural props?  Recently, behavioral enrichment has been integrated beautifully into primate exhibits, but what about ungulates and big cats? 

Connection creation and enrichment are the two most important issues that we must address in order to move beyond landscape immersion. The complexity of stepping beyond landscape immersion may seem a daunting task.  However, the essence of the next successful step will be in creating "novelty"-something new or unexpected.  Novelty to visitors, both within every new exhibit they encounter, as well as within the same exhibit upon repeat visits.  We must create novelty to animals, both in new enrichment devices and methods, as well as within their own habitats.  We need to make adaptable habitats that can be changed on a daily, weekly, monthly or seasonal basis.  We need to make experiences for the visitor and animal that they can share, becoming intuitively novel, since every person or animal will react slightly different in new situations.  Thus, our new exhibits will stay new, increasing visitor repeat attendance, and discouraging cookie cutter exhibit design. 

But how do we begin to do this?  In addressing the issues of connection creation and incorporation of enrichment into design, the first and most critical step will be to develop stronger relationships between architectural designers and zoo staff.  Designers need to be educated by the keepers on animals' behaviors, both in the wild and in captivity, as well as on methods of behavioral enrichment.  Designers should spend a day or two working side-by-side with the keepers as "keepers for a day." This will help designers to not only understand the needs of the keepers in their daily work routines, but also to help create bonds between designers and the animals whose homes they are creating.  The zoo staff has a passion for animals that most architectural designers are lacking.  This passion needs to be shared and experienced by the designers. 

In "novelty-based" design, zoos and designers need to work together to develop new methods of enrichment and test them before integrating them into design.  Design schedules and budgets should include a phase for enrichment development and testing, wherein the designers work with the keepers to create prototypes to be tested with the animals.  If the zoo is designing exhibits for animals they currently do not have in collection, partnerships should be developed to test enrichment devices at other zoos with those animals.  These findings should be recorded scientifically and published for the entire zoo community to share.  If the zoo uses training as enrichment, the designers need to experience training sessions and clearly understand the need and utility of the training.  Keepers and designers should be discussing how all of these methods can be displayed on exhibit.

Specific enrichment goals need to be addressed at design kick-off meetings, making numerical goals for incorporating enrichment devices and creating new methods.    Enrichment must be seen as a philosophical aspect of design, incorporated into the master planning process, because if animals are active and happy, visitors will become more engaged.  Enrichment must be planned not only for the opening day of the exhibit, but for the future of the exhibit as well.  Animals become acclimated to enrichment devices and stop using them.  We must plan for this, developing phasing plans for enrichment, and flexibility of the exhibit design for novelty of the environment.  Most importantly, after the construction is complete, studies must be conducted to determine the successes and failures of enrichment techniques.  These results should be shared with the zoo community, and especially, the designers. 

Secondly, the "novelty-based" design process must become "connection-centered," not visitor-centered or animal-centered.  Connections are created both by proximity and by experience.   Landscape immersion began to explore this idea by attempting to have visitors and animals in the same habitat, thus experiencing the same things.  However, in landscape immersion, we don't experience the same things at all.  As visitors, we have a choice to move into a different area, to eat ice cream or hot dogs, to sit and watch the gorillas or to go see the penguins.  We don't swim in the same water as the polar bears and we don't get to swing around on ropes like orangutans.  What if we started creating these shared experiences?  Can we make environments for animals and visitors that are truly similar?  What if the actions of a visitor change the environment for the animal?  What if the actions of an animal change the environment for the visitor?  No longer would we be bound by the idea that the habitat must look like the animals' wild habitat.  We could make it look like any thing, any place, any time, as long as the visitor and animal are engaged and ultimately, connected.  

We have already seen a movement starting to push beyond landscape immersion, and, in some instances, toward "novelty-based" design.  Several new exhibits, including the St. Louis Zoo ‘Penguin & Puffin Coast' exhibit and the San Francisco Zoo's ‘Lipman Family Lemur Forest', utilize natural habitat but also incorporate distinctly non-immersive elements, and are exceedingly successful.  These exhibits focus on getting the visitor close to the animals (connection-centered) and being surrounded by active animals (behavioral understanding and enrichment incorporation).  This experience, which will be different and therefore novel upon each visit, makes these exhibits extremely emotional and therefore memorable to visitors, and begins to create a connection.  These exhibits are a step in the right direction toward "novelty-based" design.  Using this type of design, we can move to the next incremental step in the evolution of landscape immersion, keeping the "oh my!" moment, and continuing to educate and inspire our zoo visitors.

A Quick Lesson in Zoo Design History

Over time, zoos' physical forms have been a direct reflection of our society's values and understanding of science. It is important to understand where we've been in order to move forward, and its is also important for visitors to the older zoos to understand why certain buildings and exhibits are the way they are (as we know, zoos usually do not have an abundance of money, and struggle to keep their physical state up with the trends). Zoos, in the form we know them now, have been in existence since the mid-18th century. Prior to this, private collections existed throughout the world as far back, it is believed, to Mesopotamian times. Romans kept animals, of course, for sport, but would display the animals in a zoo-like manner, prior to their being released to their deaths in the Coliseum. But we'll focus on the mid-19th century forward.

We can easily divide the eras in zoo design into three general categories:

1. Zoos as Jails (mid 19th to late 19th century)

2. Zoos as Art Galleries OR the Modernist Movement (early to mid 20th century)

3. Zoos as Conservation and Education Facilities

Zoos as Jails

This was the Age of Enlightenment and the Romantic Age, where beauty was of the upmost value and our understanding of the natural world was blossoming into a science.  Hard science in this time was all about classification and comparison.  Linneaus and Darwin were the scientific stars.  The earliest official zoos began during this period, with the London Zoo in 1828 and Philadelphia Zoo in 1874.  The early zoos were based on the mission of science for science's sake, but also were places for socializing.

As such, a balance between beauty and classification was struck.  The zoos of this time were laid out by taxonomic families, and the term "House" came into being, as in Cat House, Bird House, etc.  The architectural style was over the top beautiful.  Highly ornate bird cages and buildings themed in the most dramatic fashion were everywhere.  But, cages were small, animals were short lived, and people enjoyed the animals as beautiful objects rather than living beings.

Zoos as Art Galleries OR the Modernist Movement

During this time, the world was experiencing several wars.  The study of nature became much less important, but Romanticism still existed.  Science progressed into problem solving, and medical advances were abundant.  Vaccinations became prevalent and the idea of killing germs to increase health and extend life expectancy came into being.

During this time, zoos held a similar value as art galleries, and the exhibits became mini-paintings and sculptures.  In the Romantic movement, a proper landscape exists with a foreground, mid-ground, and background.  Carl Hagenbeck became the first-ever to apply this theory to zoo design resulting in the birth of the barless (or 'moated') exhibit.  His motivation was more about creating a living Romantic landscape, like the famous painters of his time, than to recreate nature for moral sensitivities.  This style started to  catch on in zoos, but generally became popular much later.

At the same time, the modernist movement was catching fire.  Modernism requires that form follow function.  This belief along with the advances in medicine and desire for sterilization, created zoo exhibits that were easily hosed down and cleaned regularly.  This meant concrete everywhere.  Additionally, the Modernist Art scene infiltrated zoo design, and the hard, simple lines for which modernist style is famous, reigned supreme.  The result was exhibits that look more like sculpture than habitat.

With both the Romanticism and Modernist styles abounding in this time period, zoo design was more about creating an art gallery than a responsible home for animals.  Interestingly, due to the increased attention to health, captive animals' life expectancies did increase almost to today's levels.  The only thing missing was attention to the animals' mental health.

Zoos as Conservation and Education Facilities

Since the mid-20th century, our society has developed a strong sense of environmental awareness and human rights ethics, which eventually gave way to animal rights as well.  In 1950, Hediger wrote "Wild Animals in Captivity" which opened people's eyes to the idea of husbandry practices and exhibit design based on an animal's natural history.  What a novel approach!  With the advances in healthcare (which overlaps into this era), animals in captivity began to be treated for physical as well as mental health.

During the 1970s, a group of folks at the Woodland Park Zoo (including two young designers from Jones and Jones Architects) decided to resurrect Hagenbeck's ideas from long ago--and to advance them.

Instead of creating a living painting, they wanted to put the visitor into the habitat...Immerse them in the painting.  And, instead of creating a visually exciting statement only, they decided to re-create the habitat in the which the animal was naturally seen.  All of these things were incorporated into the gorilla exhibit at Woodland Park Zoo, and, thus, landscape immersion was born.

Since then, the idea of landscape immersion has caught on like wildfire, and today, is the standard of responsible zoo design.  Understanding the past, I have to wonder where we are headed next...A topic for future discussion.

The Future of Science Based Institutions

The question of co-evolution amongst zoos, aquaria, and science museums has been a lingering muse for decades now.  Back in 1986, Jon Coe cleverly equated the historical relationships to convergent evolution, and through his paper, which was more history lesson than predictor of the future, compared their similarities through time.  Ultimately, he suggests "an awareness of others and ourselves, together with a willingness to communicate, can lead us further into an exciting co-evolution of zoo, aquariums and natural history museums." I'd like to take it a step further.

I often wonder why we separate all of our science institutions, dividing the natural world into equal, but succinct pieces: land animal (zoos), plant (botanical gardens), aquatic animal (aquaria), and the sciences (natural history museums and science centers).  Of course, overlap occurs; zoos have fish and aquatic mammals, botanical gardens have butterfly houses, science museums have dioramas of the natural history of living creatures.  Additionally, the method of teaching the general sciences varies greatly from conservative natural history museum approaches to more "fun" and interactive science centers.

As Coe mentioned, the teaming up of these institutions would be a powerful force.  However, if, going beyond what Coe suggested, we created one institution that presented all of these disciplines, we'd be teaching holistically, presenting a unified view of the natural world that so many children and adults rarely get the chance to see.

The world has changed dramatically since the inception of these learning institutions.  Most zoos and natural history museums began at the turn of the 19^th century, when for the good majority of people, we still lived in a mostly untouched rurality.  These people grew up with nature, lived in nature, or could easily visit nature, and learning about the natural world was most easily understood by the breaking down of components.

Today, however, most people live in cities or suburbs.  Any nature we experience regularly is man-made or man-influenced, and certainly does not contain a wide variety of species or habitats.  Learning about nature now becomes easier through an immersive, holistic approach.  Add in society's constant bombardment with story driven entertainment and eye-candy, and learning almost requires the same treatment.  Or so I postulate.

The Museum of Life and Science in Durham, North Carolina has already come to the same conclusion.  Currently, they house live animals, present botanical displays, a natural wetland trail, and incorporate hands-on science center activities throughout.  This is not enough for them, however.

We envision a one-of-a-kind place, a science park, offering extraordinary experiences indoors, outdoors, and virtual where children and adults learn through the pursuit of their own interests and curiosity. We will be recognized as the leader in public engagement with science in the Triangle region and as a model for science museums across the nation.

Will this be the future of science institutions?  A one-stop shop, so to speak, for education and entertainment about the natural world?  All things are intertwined; nature is a web of life.  Why not present it that way?

Read the follow-up to this post: 'MULTI-DISCIPLINARY INTEGRATION...A MOUTHFUL OF FUN.'