|
After nearly four decades on the job at Johannesburg Zoo, Mike Harman is retiring as curator of birds. His successor has big shoes to fill.
Mike Harman with a member of his feathered family
YOU'RE never really ready to leave a job like this," states Mike Harman. His appearance says "outdoors" - a slightly built man dressed in khaki, peering from under a suitably unfashionable floppy hat.
After 38 years at the Johannesburg Zoo - 20 of which were spent as curator of birds - Harman will bid all "the guys" in the zoo farewell.
He has taken early retirement to make way for younger blood, but hopes to stay in touch and give advice when the zoo needs his expertise, he says.
Not surprisingly, Harman has grown extremely attached to some of the characters he has cared for and admits he will miss them "big time".
Many of the animals have since passed on, but others, like the long-living flamingos and pelicans, were already at the zoo when he started out as a green 20-something zookeeper.
Different personalities
Every single animal he worked with had a different personality, except perhaps the antelopes, which he calls "herdy types, low down the food chain".
His hand gently cups the hand-reared marabou stork's fluffy head before giving it a couple of fatherly strokes. Still a juvenile, she will later lose the tufts of white hair in favour of the bald look.
This quirk of nature has made the marabou probably one of the ugliest creatures on the planet, but in Harman's presence one should be careful using such a disrespectful word to describe one of his favourites.
He gives a slight lift of the right eyebrow to show that he's not quite in agreement with the "ugly" description before reverting back to his amicable self.
"These animals are very intelligent," he says as he and the stork fool around, adding that playfulness is a sign of intelligence. When we approach the condor enclosure, the massive bird comes to the fence for its customary tickle.
Harman describes them as "hugely impressive birds"; then urges me to check the intelligence in its eyes. I give it a quick once-over, noting its glassy grey and black eyes; it only gives me a blank stare. But I decide to nod in confirmation to show that I am clearly also intelligent - after all, it takes one to see one.
Over the years Harman has worked with different animals and can't single out just one "favourite"; instead "he loved working with the big cats, elephants, rhinos, wild dogs", he says, rambling off a long - and growing - list.
Birds
And that's not to mention all the birds he fancies: the ground hornbill, condors, the birds of prey, swans - birds he describes as really intelligent.
He has built up the zoo's ornithology collection over the years, adding more unusual types such as the cory bustard, saddle-bill storks, and more recently, a pair of golden conures - an endangered yellow parrot from Brazil - over time.
He is also part of the Ground Hornbill Action Group; the bird was recently classified as vulnerable, and once a year he visits the Kruger Park to check on the status of these creatures.
"This is another bird I have vast respect for. They are probably the cleverest animal in the Kruger Park," he says seriously, just a hint of a twinkle in his eyes.
Wattled crane programme
Under Harman's careful guidance the zoo's wattled crane breading programme has become one of its success stories. It is now in its third year and has one breeding pair, a couple of youngsters and "two lesbians" very keenly laying and sitting on unfertilized eggs.
Harman has been trying to teach "this pair of ladies" to rear some offspring, using fertilized blue crane eggs and even turkey eggs for them to sit on. He has had no luck so far, however, and will have to leave this programme for his successor.
Breeding birds can be far more complicated than breeding other animals, says Harman. "For a start, birds have to like each other. And they must preferably not be related."
It seems birds have an inborn mechanism which kicks in, warning them off from breeding with close relatives, he says. And you can't just bring them any old bird - like humans, they want to pick their own mates.
For his part, Harman decided that his heart should be the sole preserve of creatures, with even the common Indian minah finding a special place. As a result he has never married - but he had lots of girlfriends, he assures me.
After all, how many girls can resist a man who brings home a baby tiger to play with?
Hand rearing
He recalls his experiences hand-rearing a jackal cub and a baby tiger. It was the hippy era and he was sharing a commune with a girl, quickly pointing out that he was no hippy himself.
Every night "Miss Harman", the jackal, and her tiger friend accompanied him home, to the delight of his flatmate. This arrangement went on for months, with the commune a favourite stop-over for friends and strangers alike, clearly only paying a visit to see the two baby animals.
"In those days things were a bit more flexible," he remembers.
Flexible it may have been, but it was also tough as funds were few and skilled workers hard to come by.
"I spent days just cutting grass for the animals," he recalls. The average zookeeper in the early 1970s had no education, many of them starting off their careers as gravediggers and miners. Harman himself studied part time towards a bachelor of science degree in zoology, admitting that it took him years to complete.
Today, he is happy to see more and more young people showing an interest in doing this line of work. And he says it is encouraging that a lot of young black folk are becoming involved.
Creative job
This is a job in which you constantly have to make new plans - from how to entertain the animals to catching new babies; and even pulling out a piece of bone stuck in a tiger's canine with blacksmiths tongs.
Enriching the zoo animals' lives can be a constant challenge. Usually this involves hiding the animal's food or changing their environment.
Harman recalls how the ground hornbills enjoyed trying to get to the dead chicken he hid inside a tortoise shell. "It kept them busy for a day-and-a-half," he says. Unfortunately, they also broke the shell with their strong beaks.
Miss Harman
His experiences rearing the female black-back jackal have left a deep and lasting impression.
Miss Harman was absolute unique in so many ways, he says. It built a special bond with the wolves in the enclosure next door; these same animals later broke through to the jackal enclosure and killed all the jackals except Miss Harman. "We found her running around among the wolves, unharmed."
It also turned out to be quite the caring mother, successfully suckling four orphaned jackal cubs even though it never had any of her own offspring.
It is this innate intelligence in animals that leaves Harman in awe to this day. He singles out the fragile cheetah as another clever, unique animal, even though it forms part of the ferocious big cat family.
"I would like to say they are almost dog-like," he says, adding apologetically that what he means is that they become domesticated easily and become very trusting.
Suddenly his cellphone starts a frenzy of cricket chirping; he quickly switches it off and then admits proudly that he is looking for a hadeda recording to replace the crickets. That should make him very popular.
And after a very short, entertaining hour, it's time to say goodbye.
Related stories:
|
