The
information for the Rhea studbook has been sent. Hopefully parts of it will be used, but
either way I am satisfied. I had said in
the previous blog that Rheas would be very silent on the nature of their
history with humans. As I reflect back
on the three years I have been at Bird House, I realize that this is not
necessarily true.
Three
Rheas I worked with, Margot, Pearl and C.J, normally did not make their opinions
known to me through vocalizations. They
are not like Macaws and parrots after all.
They chose to be quiet and the definition of stealth when I raked the
sand of their enclosure. With dual
natures of curiosity and discretion, every morning they would investigate my
shoe or the contents of my pockets, which I knew not to put anything in, rather
than demand my attention. Sometimes a
sound far off would put them in retreat. They would run away with wings outstretched,
titling from side to side -- the same retreat that Portuguese sailors mocked, the
Guarani peoples of Northern Argentina and Paraguay said resembled the legs of a
spider and Darwin had described as a sail. Yet, exemplifying humans’ long
tradition of not fully understanding Rheas, I remember a day a year into my
internship, when I heard C.J vocalize.
The
Rhea yard is separated from the main zoo by a visitor path, a large stretch of
woods and then a string of apartments on Connecticut Avenue. For a year, whenever I was cleaning the
enclosure I had heard a loud deep booming sound like the sound of bass
guitar. I had attributed it to a car
radio. Or possibly it was some other
mechanized human nuisance, which was disturbing my idea of peace amongst the
titan birds. I would look to the
apartments, mumble a complaint and then go back to drawing calligraphy with the
leaves, rocks, sand and my rake.
One
day, after repeating this ritual, instead of returning to my work, I happened
to look to my right side. Standing next
to me was C.J, his neck stretched to his fullest height of five feet and still
as a statue, not startled by my gaze.
Without opening his beak and through the use of his nares (nostrils), he
let out the sonic boom in question. The undulating
of his neck was the only sign to my easily tricked mind that the sound came
from within. When asked for the meaning
of his soliloquy he turned his back to me and said no more . Experiences like this added with the academic
study of the history of rheas and humans have made this internship an
experience that is so valuable that words are inadequate to describe it.
 |
| 9,000 year old cave painting of rhea feet mixed with human hands at Cueva de las Manos (cave of hands) in Santa Cruz, Aregentina |
“Photo D256_30_907, from
Dissolve.” Dissolve. Accessed May 29, 2019.
https://dissolve.com/stock-photo/Argentina-Patagonia-Santa-Cruz-province-000-old-hand-royalty-free-image/101-D256-30-907.
