I remember living in Montana, and the first few years I would marvel at the 150 foot larch and various pines. The tops would circle in the wind and with Long Mountain right behind us, there was lots of stuff to be utterly amazed at. In the late fall sometimes we’d get a few inches of snow. The larch needles were gold, and the deep green Spanish moss under it, and gently lacing it all was the snow. Gorgeous. But, after a few years, we got used to it and pretty much took the beauty for granted unless something really spectacular were going on, like a giant flourescent pink moon arising over granite peaks.
It’s pretty much the same with the tigers. Working with them every day I rarely see something new, but, today was a twofold exception.
This morning, Shasta had run of the perimeter and she and Izzy were playing. Izzy would stick her paw out of her fence and put it on Shasta’s. Then Shasta would playfully try to bite it, and Izzy would quickly reel her paw back in. Then Shasta would put her paw inside and the same game went on for a while. Like that game we all played as kids, one person would put their hands out and the other person would put their hands over them, and the first person would try to smack the other’s hand.
Then Izzy seemed to remember she’s older and supposed to be regal, and began to ignore Shasta’s attempts at play. So, Shasta, being a silly 350 pound cub grabbed her own hind foot and did a half somersault so her butt was sticking way up in the air, leaning against the fence. I just had to put my head down and shook it a little…unbelievable.
Springtime brings its own specific challenges, like hair. Lots and lots of it. So today I was trying to do some clean up and when I was done, I fed them. First I fed Izzy, then I gave Shasta a stick of beef and lastly, Max got his 15 pounds.
Izzy is very calm when she eats, she’s even let me pet her. But today, when Shasta would go near Izzy’s cage, Izzy would rise up on her hind legs and let out an ear piercing roar. Then Shasta would go to Max’s pen, and Max, always protective of his food, roared loudly too, not bothering to so much as get up on all fours.
Then to my amazement, Shasta sat down in the middle of her pen and looked utterly despondent. No one was trying to get at her food. So I walked on over and stood in front of her food and she snarled at me. After that, she began to chow down and was happy.
Though I have over 3,000 hours experience with big cats, there always comes a day where they make me smile, laugh or wonder.
Until Next Time,
Tiger
