I just got back
from a two-week vacation. My husband, our four dogs, our parrot, and three of
our rabbits packed up our little trailer and took off to visit state and
national parks in Colorado, Utah, Idaho and Wyoming. We visited Rocky Mountain
National Park, Cheyenne Mountain State Park, Garden of the Gods, Great Sand
Dunes National Park, and Arches National Park, but our favorite spots were
those areas where we saw wildlife: Yellowstone National Park and Antelope
Island State Park.
At Yellowstone,
we saw—and photographed—coyotes, marmots, a long-tailed weasel, countless
bison, eagles, and elk, and at Antelope Island we saw antelope, jack rabbits,
and had bison walk right by our campsite. It was heaven for animal lovers like Tom
and I, and the dogs were thrilled with seeing and smelling so many animals.
After I got
home, and went through all of my photographs, and those taken by Tom, I noticed
that we hardly had any of each other. We had lots of beautiful scenery shots,
and a lot of pictures of the animals enjoying their vacation, but we took a
huge number of photos of the wild animals that we saw. I had to ask myself,
why?
I know I’m not
unusual. People love watching animals. At Yellowstone, there were a number of
times when a half a dozen cars would be pulled off to the side of the road, as
other tourists just like us were pausing to watch, and photograph, the animals
grazing alongside the road. There is
something thrilling about seeing wild animals up close, engaged in their normal
behaviors, but letting us see them as well.
But it goes
beyond just watching them. I know I’m not the only person who was trying to
figure out how I could possibly steal a baby bison and bring him home to raise
in my house. While of course I would never do such a thing, I won’t lie: I thought
a lot about how my new companion would littertrain himself (of course I would
have to get him a very big box), and would watch TV with us at night.
Clearly, one
reason Americans are so captivated by animals today is the disappearance of
animals from our lives. In our post-industrial world, companion animals remain
the only form of physical connection that Americans have with animals. But
apparently, the dogs, cats and rabbits we share our homes with are just not
interesting enough for many of us.
One problem with
this intense need to get close to wild animals is that most of us can’t
regularly go to Yellowstone to watch bison in their natural habitat. The result
is that for most people who want to get close to wild animals, they will
instead visit zoos, marine mammal parks, and circuses, which keep animals
confined in small spaces and in unnatural conditions, so that the public can
more easily see them. Visitors also like to see animals move. They
become bored when animals are sleeping, even when they are nocturnal and should
not be awake in the daytime. This leads to zoo patrons yelling at animals or
pounding or tapping on enclosure windows. Because just watching animals is often not
enough, many zoos and marine mammal parks also provide exhibits and events
that allow the public to ride, touch, feed, or get very close to animals. And
of course for many people, the fantasy to own a wild animal is not just a
fantasy. It is legal in most states to own wild animals, even when the
conditions in which these animals live are entirely unsatisfactory, and may
even pose dangers to animal and human alike.
Even the kind of vacation that I took is
not necessarily benign for the animals. In Yellowstone, we were told that
countless animals die every year when they are hit by tourists’ cars in the
park. Bears who are attracted to human food and garbage are often killed when
they get too close to humans. And the same bison that are protected and
venerated within the park boundaries are then subject to being killed by
hunters when they wander outside of the park into Montana or Wyoming. In
addition, some preliminary research is beginning to emerge on whether or not
animals can be harmed by ecotourism itself; one recent study, for example,
found increased levels of aggression in Tibetan macaques who interact
frequently with tourists; scholars think that the feeding of the animals may be
the cause of the aggression.
Women’s studies scholar
Chilla Bulbeck has studied ecotourism sites, and has interviewed attendees, and
has found that many visitors experience some guilt about visiting these sites,
knowing that the presence of humans is not good for the animals. Ultimately,
though, self-interest (the desire to see or touch the animals) wins out, even
for the more conservation-minded of the tourists—like myself. The irony is that
the more wild the site, the less the animals’ movements and behaviors are
controlled but the more that the visitors’ activities are constrained,
increasing the animals’ freedom (including their freedom to not be present) but
for many, decreasing the visitors’ pleasure.
While I was thrilled to see a herd of wild antelope on Antelope Island,
I have to admit that I was frustrated that they were so far away that I could
not see their faces. Obviously, they did not want me to see their faces, but I was frustrated nevertheless. But
the animals grazing right alongside of the road, the ones that we got such
great photos of, were those that were in the greatest risk of being hit by
cars.
I still wonder about the coyote
that we saw wondering down the road one day in Yellowstone, weaving in and out
of traffic as we all furiously snapped pictures of him. Is he okay? Did he make
it where he was going? And did our presence in the park that day put his life
in danger?
I truly hope not. But
maybe the more important question would be: would my behavior have changed if
it did?
All photos by Thomas Young.