"First Times"

I see blood on my thumb nail. It’s bright, dry, but looks fresh. I wonder where it’s from. I think it’s from work. I guess it’s possible to miss that spot, to not wash your thumbnail, if you’re washing your hands in a rush. I decide it’s probably horse or cow blood, and not human blood. The meat was redder than beef, and not quite as tender, must have been horse now that I think about it.

I finally got a key at work. That means no more calling someone to let me into the compound. It’s just a little step in trust and responsibility, but it feels good. The six flags park has a volleyball league in summers. Just for fun, but the rather non-creatively named Team Tiger takes it seriously. Partly because we’re good, partly because our boss is incredibly competitive. The dolphin trainers call their team “Fish Chuckers”, the small mammal show calls theirs “Monkey Spankers”. We may not have come up with something creative, but you can easily see how our teamwork and communication, watching each-others backs, understanding each other’s limitations can factor not only into good volleyball, but into working safely with tigers. How close nit our team is explains why it took 6 months to fill two open positions. I’m just glad I was one of the two. We’re 4-0 so far.

Today I spent much of the day in with the cats. At one point I gave Kingda Ka some milk from a bottle, and then stopped. Then he came back and I gave him some more. He just kept coming. When I wouldn’t give him milk, he’d just lay down and lick my leg. We thought he just really wanted milk, but it turned out that I had accidentally grabbed an uncut nipple, and not much milk was coming out. One of the trainers fixed this by taking the nipple off and just pouring milk in his mouth. His look would have made the milk advertisers who came up with the “Got milk?” campaign’s heads explode in anticipatory excitement at signing Kingda Ka to a major advertising deal.

Later on we spent time on stage with Balin, Hara and Faruk. After putting in new shade, some tigers have been slow going in getting used to it. Hara and Faruk did great, but Balin nearly reenacted his initial introduction to the 20 feet high shade tarps. He bolted back and forth several times. I’m not sure why such a change can make a tiger so anxious, but you never know. Faruk tends to freak and try to kill anyone through the glass who has an open umbrella. Balin loves buckets for some reason, and will spend his day trying to get one unclipped. If you try to pick one up while you’re in the area with him, look out. In school one of the mountain lions I worked with were terrified of camera tri-pods. There’s no telling why. These fears aren’t as easy to analyze as my baboon at school’s fear of snakes and even lizards.

Balin in one of his calmer moments

The first show, I opened gates, and spent it watching and helping where I could. Basically I did what my boss told me, and tells me often, which is “don’t get killed, Heikkila.”

Before the second show I was told I would talk it. I was a bit nervous because the only show I have mc’ed in the last 2 weeks was a disaster. I forgot stuff in every segment, and just plain sucked. However, I was looking forward to redeeming myself.

“You doing the show on stage?”

“Not that I know of.” I am kind of surprised that he even asked that, and figured he was joking or something. Basically my brain didn’t compute it. I had never talked a show on stage, there’s a lot more involved. I look around, everyone’s staring at me. One trainer is nodding at me like a bobble-head, basically as to say “Say yes, you dumb bastard!”

“I mean, yeah, I can definitely do that.”

I start the show out front, as normal. I feel good, the audience is big and into it. We get to the volunteer segment, where I screw on a piece of meat to a long pole, which a kid then puts up nice and high to the fence, and one of the cats eats it. I think, I still have some blood on my thumbnail from that meat. You’d think I’d have washed it off by now, but you’d be surprised at what you get used to.

No one was there to take pictures of my first time talking the show on stage, so this promotional illustration done before the show opened will have to suffice…

I walk inside, and pick up a leather swat (for defense), and pick up a bottle of milk (for reenforcement). I still have my meat pouch on, and I walk up. I am given some more instruction and sent onto stage with some sort of friendly message to stay calm and I’ll be ok. I see Kingda Ka on the other side of the stage. I walk out to meet him, and we try the milk thing one more time today. I redeem myself, and he is able to get a steady flow of that 2% dairy cow goodness. And relationship salvaged…kidding.

“Let me formally introduce you to Kingda Ka. Kingda Ka is a 3 year old male Bengal tiger and he weighs about 530 lbs.”

I take the milk out of his mouth and put it in my pocket. Another trainer takes over with Ka.

I continue my spiel, “Take a look at Kingda Ka’s beautiful coloration. He’s what’s known as a golden tabby tiger, which is essentially a white tiger with golden or butterscotch stripes upon a reddish coat. We’re pretty sure there are no more than thirty of these individuals in the entire world, and none out in the wild so we are extremely fortunate to have two right here in the golden kingdom. Kingda Ka is one of are largest tigers and to give you an idea of how big he is we are going to see if we can get him to stand up nice and tall for us.”

In the original script this is the part where the host exclaims, “biggidy bam, that’s a big cat!” but for obvious reasons that line was cut.

Chandi doing a shoulder rise

Bam, shoulder rise, and the show goes on. Somehow I managed, even during this massive context shift, to get all my words out, without so much as losing my place once. There were 500 people in the crowd, but it looked like more. When you’re in front of the stage, you have to make a conscious effort to look at the people, to not leave out one side of the audience, to smile, to look like you’re enjoying it. On stage, it’s bright, and you’re back 20 feet, through the window of the pool and the fence above it. You basically look forward. I try to move my hands a bit while I talk. There are those that do that naturally, I’m not one, and I need to work on it.

I’m getting another part time job to supplement my full time salary. I honestly don’t need it, and will probably do it until I get tired of having no days off. I’d just like to get a few things, like my own computer, for instance.

Behind me my dog sticks his nose into a little spider crawling around on the floor. Sniffing it, smooshing it. No difference for Loki. Big difference for spider.

Kiril laid out

A few days ago we were moving our largest tiger, Kiril, when he nudged me, and stuck his paw around my leg. I felt like the damsel in King Kong. Ok, not really, just thought it’d be an interesting mental image. As he was doing it, another trainer said, “don’t let him…” He then stuck his face to my arm and nibbled.

I finished her sentence, “do that?”

I don’t know what word would work better than ‘nibble’. It didn’t hurt or break the skin, but I felt his teeth on my arm. It was an interesting experience.

Kiril on the left and Kingda Ka on the right

There are more tigers in Texas than in all of Asia. This is due to of the lack of exotic animal laws in the former, and because of explosive population growth in the latter. Agriculture, domestic animal production, deforestation, and trade in tiger parts also have something to do with tigers dwindling numbers. Some say it’s sad that the only endangered animals people seem to care about are the ‘cute’ ones, the charismatic ones. Isn’t it sadder that we can’t even seem to save those ones we claim to ‘love’?

There are six extant sub-species of tiger, spread throughout Asia. The other known three are already extinct. Siberians are the largest, Sumatran the smallest. Bengal tigers are the most common both in captivity and in the wild, and may make up half of the wild population of around 4,000 individuals. A century ago there were more than twenty times that many.

I work with Bengals. Bengal tigers are the only sub-species known to exhibit different color variations. They have higher numbers in captivity, and with that there is likely a greater ability to selectively breed them. White tigers, snow white tigers (without stripes), and golden tabby tigers (which are essentially white tigers with golden stripes upon a reddish coat), are three of the variations. The different colorations come about simply through combinations of genes. White tigers carry a double recessive gene, which gives them that lighter coloration. It’s a lot like people with blond hair and blue eyes. We actually have 4 tigers born into one litter: three white, and one typical orange and black. They were born to two heterozygous orange and black parents. In this case, it wasn’t a conscious decision to get white tigers, but because the easiest way to get whites is to breed siblings with siblings or parents with offspring, it is somewhat common in captivity. And, because of this, so are side effects, such as cross eyes. Luckily, ours are healthy.

Hara and Chandi (sisters)

Tigers are in the Panthera genus, along with jaguars, leopards, and lions. Because of their size, which sets them apart from the smaller big cats; and their stripes, which set them apart from their more plain looking African cousins – the lion, they seem to be a favorite animal to many people. When getting into animal training school, the first week was designated for orientation, the first day for introductions. When asked the questions of ‘what is your favorite animal’, and ‘what animal do you ultimately want to work with’, the easy answers for a lot of people was ‘tigers’. That and ‘dolphins’ or ‘killer whales’. At this point though, I believe out of a graduating class of 44, only one person is working with tigers, and he didn’t answer either of those questions with the biggest of big cats. People can change their minds.

Bengal tiger females are generally around 300lbs, males 500-600lbs. From the tip of the nose down to the end of the tail, they can stand from about 7-10 feet. They can run over 35mph, but generally stalk their prey. They surprise their prey, but because of their unparalleled size and impressive speed, they are versatile enough to chase down wild pigs and langurs (medium sized monkeys), and powerful enough to take down gaur and water buffalo.

Tigers have round ears, with white spots on the back, taking up the whole center of the ear. Other cats, such as servals also have these spots, and there are a couple of not necessarily competing theories as to why. One is that they are an easy to follow flag for the cubs to key on when they are young. The other is that they look like eyes, and as most animals won’t attack unless the potential prey/victim is turned away, this deters an attack. The former seems like it would be helpful. The latter does too, as besides some wild cat species, some butterfly species also have eye patterns on their wings, more than likely to stop potential attackers from eating them.

Tigers have large eyes facing resolutely forward. The saying, ‘eyes on the side made to hide, eyes in the front made to hunt’, explains the placement quite well. Their vision is excellent, much better than that of any canid’s. The trade off may be that they don’t have quite the olfactory sense of dogs and wolves. They do have wet noses which help scent particles more easily stick inside the nose, so they can get a better idea of what exists outside their more immediate senses. Humans, apes, and old world primates such as baboons also seem to have made an unconscious vision/olfactory trade off some time in the past as well. We have great color vision, but a very weak and rarely used (at least for communication purposes) sense of smell, where as new world primates lack that color vision, but use their much more developed sense of smell to communicate with their own species. Tigers do use their sense of smell to communicate with their own though, more than they use it to track prey. They spray trees, etc with urine in order to mark their territory, or let members of the opposite sex know their reproductive situation. Males and females make a grimacing type face, called flehmen while sniffing the urine of the opposite sex. They stick their face right up to the offender’s or possible potential mate’s piss and take a big whiff.

Up close and personal

Tigers have a much more specialized set of teeth than we do. They have large canines to cervically dislocate their prey, and carnassials in place of their molars which act as scissors to slice meat off a carcass. Their tongues are also quite rough, for ripping skin and fur off of it’s prey. It feels like wet sandpaper. I can personally attest to that, and after getting licked on my leg yesterday, it still feels a bit like I skinned my knee. Consider the power and roughness of a house cat, then multiply it by twenty to get an idea the kind of force they can exert. After getting licked by Hara on one side of my knee, and her brother Balin on the other side, the spot licked by Hara still is a bit sore the day after, Balin’s spot never really hurt. Obviously size doesn’t matter in this case, as Balin is 150lbs heavier.

Hara

Tigers have especially large back and neck muscles for taking down prey. When asked what their back feels like by another trainer, I responded quickly and perhaps not too creatively ‘rock with fur’. He replied, ‘like soft steel?’ I like that better.

Tigers have 18 almost razor sharp claws, used to dig into their prey, to mark their territory by gouging deep gashes in trees, and when they are younger to climb trees. I did a paper and presentation in veterinary procedures class about declawing large cats and learned that you can avoid any sort of long term side effects if the declawing is done correctly. As long as the vet removes any of the ungual tissue – to keep the claws from regrowing, leaves the deep digital flexor tendon in tact (so they have control of their paw), and leaves the dorsal part of the third phalanx behind the ungular process in tact. Most of the lame ‘floppy’ footed cats have had declaws done the same way as with housecats. Ironically, now I am working with cats with their claws. That’s fine by me. It’s an easier when asked to answer that “they still have their claws”, rather than “well, if you get rid of the ungual process, and leave the flexor tendon…they’re paws act like normal!”

Chandi and I

I am spending more and more time with the tigers, learning about them individually and collectively. Giving them scratches is fine, but they can have a tendency after getting too comfortable to flip over and grab you, so be ready to get up quickly. Hara can get too into licking your leg or pants, and not stop until your leg is raw, and may take it personally if you ask her to stop. Raina likes jumping on people, it’s her thing. Yesterday she rammed into my crotch with her head. After that happened I was told that she bit one of the other trainers in that region when she was a cub…made it bleed. Isn’t that always the sort of thing you’re told after something happens? They’d all rather get pet or scratched under the chin than on top of the head. Always turn with the cat.

Kingda Ka on the right, Kiril on the left

After I mc’ed a show the other day someone came up to me and asked how you get into something like this. It’s a common question. I said something about my background then told him that getting a bachelor’s in psychology or biology would be a real step. He said he wanted to become a state trooper and so he was minoring in psych, then he asked what that has to do with working with tigers. It’s animal training, how do you think the field of psychology was developed? With people? Nope. BF Skinner used rats, Pavlov used dogs, Harlow used macaques. I didn’t get that far into the explanation, but I should have asked what being a state trooper has to do with psychology. What kind of person wants to go into a career where they’re almost required to be a dick to every single person they’re going to meet each day? At least we use psychology for good… The other question I got the other day was ‘how old do you have to be to get this job’? I said 18, then tried explaining that you more than likely would need more experience and school to be considered, but she walked off grinning, excited for the tiger training job she’d definitely have in two years just like I told her. I expect to see a resume from her in two years.

Kingda Ka

It’s never easy to get a large corporation to give you what you want if there aren’t big cost benefits. And, it took some show cancellations because of stage heat, to get some more shade at our facility. We got shade on stage, and thankfully we got some more in our yards as well. Now, the stage stays cooler, and we don’t need to cancel shows for that reason. It’s been interesting. Putting something new overhead can be quite a shock to an animal. Two of the cats, a week later, are still refusing to go on stage. Just the other day it was Faruk’s birthday, so he got a big beef chunk for dinner, and we threw a watermelon in the pool, and let him play with it.

Kiril

“You hungry?”

“Yes.” Of course I’m hungry, and it’s taco salad day. Taco salads put together two of my favorite foods, and not only that but I’ve been hearing about the taco salad special since I was hired. Hell, I probably heard about it the day of my interview. Well, that and about the last interviewee who said one of their hobbies was throwing rocks at train tracks…

“So, you wanna eat, and not go in with cats?”

I lose no time, “I’d much rather go in with the cats.” Now, I am not going to remember this later, so let me just skip forward a couple hours and say the taco salad was delightful, delicious, and without any deleterious effects (I hope, except maybe some cancer years down the line from the fake nacho cheese, bovine growth hormone in the ground beef, and the pesticides on the tomatoes and lettuce).

“Ok, grab a bottle and a pouch full of meat for me.”

“Blood bottle or milk?” How much blood is there?

“There’s a bit.” Ok, go ahead and get a blood bottle.

I have no idea what’s in store for me. Will it be one on one, will it be in the yard, inside, I have no idea. Which tigers? “Stay close. When you get close go ahead and chuff and say hi. How’s your chuff? Can I hear it? Ok, that’s good enough. And plug ‘em with the bottle. How’s your baby talk?”

Balin’s first. He’s a 6 year old, 450lb male, and he’s a good show cat. He can’t get enough. “Go ahead and pet his head. Pet him like you’d pet your dog. Long strokes. Step closer.”

Balin

Balin shakes the nipple. He’s been known to tear it off, and get the milk or blood/milk mixture dumped in his face. When he shakes it, I’m told to just go with it. “Go ahead and pull it, step to the left and walk to Faruk and do the same.”

Where Balin was into it and pulling it and sitting up, Faruk just laid there, and casually enjoyed the bottle. We finished, and Faruk staid laying there, in his characteristic pose. Back to Balin. Balin sucks the rest down. I am instructed to turn with the cat, to always be facing them. It’s something I learned working with mountain lions, but they were less active, and of course smaller. “Ok, I am going to take the bottle, and you make your way out, then walk inside, slowly, casually.”

Faruk

It goes off without a hitch. It’s exciting. Sure, I got a job training tigers, but that doesn’t mean a whole lot if they don’t like you. If they don’t like you, you don’t have a job. Obviously, it can be even worse if they don’t like you.

“Ok, now, we’re going to go in with Raina. Walk up to her with the bottle ready and plug her.” This is a bigger deal. You can see it on their faces. Even though she weighs 150lbs less than Balin and 200 less than Faruk, she’s still twice my weight, and she has more attitude than the big boys. One of the trainers they hired that didn’t work out got jumped on by Raina the first time he was in the same area as her. This wasn’t my first time, but it was less controlled than last time. I finish, hand the bottle off and make my way to the exit.

I head inside and start filling out my records. “Ok, let’s go.” I am handed a bottle. I am instructed to go into one of the kennels, where the tigers sleep at night, and where they stay right before shows. “Stand behind the drain.” He releases Kingda Ka, and I tell him to come up, and give him the bottle. He takes the bottle and instructs me to step to the left and head out. We do the same with Raina. I want to do as many of these acclimations with Raina as possible. That’s true of all the cats, but especially the young golden tabby, Raina.

Kingda Ka and another trainer

The other trainers bring in Balin and Hara, and I give them the bottle inside their kennels, then step out. This is my first bar free interaction with Hara. She’s 6 years old, 320 lbs and the only orange and black typical tiger we have.

Hara

This amount of free contact interaction happens without notice after 2 and a half weeks added to the 2 weeks I spent during my internship/working interview. It makes my day, my week, my life. Chandi, the adult white female tiger is the only cat I have not done anything like this with yet. It just worked out that way.

Tomorrow is my Friday, I wish it was my Monday. To you that’s Sunday. Animal people don’t get weekends on weekends or holidays on holidays, generally. When you make a list of pros and cons of the job, this is one that shows up on the animal people list. That, shit pay, long hours, hard work, lots of cleaning, etc. These are naturally outweighed quickly by the other list.

Tiger splashdown video.

Sunday:

Most of the day is rather dull. The boss is feeling sick, and obviously doesn’t have the energy to do any sort of free contact acclimations with the new guy. I spend much of the day watching shows from the soundbooth, so when we are short a sound tech next week I can fill in adequately.

The boss gets some energy near the end of the day.

We have Raina switch from one kennel to another, and I feed her a bottle. We do the same with Kingda Ka. We try this with Chandi, but she is too focused on her nemesis, Raina. She is rather indifferent to me, but I don’t exactly feel insulted, as her main thoughts have been about Raina since Raina appeared a couple years before.

Now, we’re going to bring the other cats from the outdoor enclosures back inside. The day before, it was basically me standing in the kennels with a bottle of milk, being very pleasant furniture…the kind that feeds you some tasty blood or milk. The pc term for blood is meat juice, by the way. It’s what you call it when you don’t want people to “ewww”. If you don’t care, you say blood.

We go out. I am placed in between two experienced trainers. I am instructed to hug Balin as he walks by, and if he tries to kill me, stick the bottle in his mouth. The sticking of the bottle of the mouth would, in that instance, serve two purposes: 1. Mouth occupied. 2. I am the good guy, naughty thoughts averted. Luckily, no such thing happened.

Balin walked by, I was second in the factory line of trainers giving affection. I reached over and gave some scratches, then we followed him in.

Faruk was next. I turn to one of the other trainers, “the same thing?” “Yes.” Just then, I am instructed by the boss to do the same thing, but without the hug. Faruk doesn’t like that, apparently. I give him a pet, he walks on.

Third and last is Hara. She is eating grass and and needs to be asked again. She gets up. I reach over and give her a scratch. After she’s in her night quarters I am told she’s probably the most affectionate tiger.

All three basically went inside like I wasn’t there, or more accurately like I have done this a million times. That’s the goal. That’s why I’ve spent so much time walking in front of them to get them used to me and feeding them through the bars to make me a positive figure in their lives.

That’s acclimation. It all gets less passive from here on out. Actively positive.

“Are you wearing your lucky underwear today?”

It would have sounded cryptic if I hadn’t heard about last time he asked someone that (the tiger trainer he hired a month before me).

“I think so.” He leaves the room. He’s only 29, five years older than me, but he is already managing his own tiger show. Before this he worked for Siegfried and Roy. Perhaps he got out right at the perfect time.

I think so? That’s my answer? Of course I am. He’s four steps out the door when I yell, “I definitely am!” He laughs and asks “what?” I repeat myself.

I walked a 2 year old tiger once, and even he was 250lbs. I’ve walked 150lb mountain lions dozens of times. This is different. This is probably the defining moment-for me at least-of my 2 week working interview for my dream job.

He instructs me on what to do and more importantly, what not to do, “don’t pull the bottle until I say…in fact I’ll probably just grab the bottle from you.” I find it difficult to listen. I am too nervous, anxious, notious.

I stand in front of the office. I have a bottle which is filled mostly with milk, but with a good measure of blood in there. Someone askes, “nervous?”

My to be boss tells me that I will control where the head is with the bottle. That’s hard to believe with an animal, the smallest which is twice my size and double my weight.

Raina’s door is opened. She’s gorgeous. She’s a golden color, but without the black stripes of typical tigers. That’s why they call them ‘golden tabby tigers’. She has dark and narrow eyes for a tiger. They make her look a bit menacing.

“Raina”, I call and show her the bottle. She moves towards me intently and grabs the nipple with her teeth and starts suckling. She sits after a minute. It feels like it’s been so long. I am told to move her back so she doesn’t put her paw on my leg. She’s known to be a bit of a basketcase. Think Ally Sheedy from the Breakfast Club.



I remembered his criticism of other trainers giving the tiger the bottle for too long. I momentarily forget what he told me before we started, “I’ll let you know when to stop”. I want to make a good impression. I pull the bottle. “What are you doing man, don’t pull the bottle.” He says it with gusto, but obviously with some humor with it. He takes the bottle, and I retreat to the office. I stew, worry, more and more. I worry we will stop right there, maybe I won’t be asked back. Then what? Another job? I don’t want another job. This was the only one I applied for (though, I did make 4 different resumes). Next tiger.

“This time don’t pull the bottle”

“Ok.”

Kingda Ka trots towards me. He’s 550lbs, almost twice the size of his sister. He’s the same color. He’s just so damned handsome. He’s a pretty boy. And he loves swimming. If he were human he’d be on the swim team, and the dive team for that matter, for he does both with a lot of excitement. While feeding him, I am told I can pet him, as it is demonstrated to me. I stroke my hand along his face to the top of his head. I’ve never bottle fed anything. That’s not true. I have bottle fed a baby siamang. And, I forgot about this, but a baby porcupine. Bottle feeding a tiger can be compared in a way to the porcupine, I guess. The porcupine was about the size of a mouse (a computer mouse), but his quills could still hurt like hell. The only diapers I ever have changed were the same siamang, and the only animal I’ve ever ridden was a water buffalo, not a horse. Who can boast the same sort of odd firsts? Kingda Ka finishes, without a hitch, except that he chokes a bit. Some must have gone down the wrong pipe. It’s kind of endearing.



Kiril, Ka and Raina’s white brother is next. When Kiril sits, I am holding the bottle at about chin height. He’s 600lbs and massive. He has a big frame. He’s not fat, none of the tigers are. He’s just a big boy. He’s the equivalent of the guy who spends all his free time in the gym. His head is about the size of a buick. Not really, but it’s the shape of a volkswagon beetle and probably the size of one of those beach balls that end up at stadium concerts and graduations. Kiril has cheek tufts that jot out like Sylvester the Cat.



Feeding a tiger by bottle is a bit safer for us than feeding meat by the hand, but that, too will come. A bottle has a bit of a maternal significance. It’s motherly. Meat comes after a kill, at least in the wild. I’ve fed other tigers by hand, and the most scary part about working with a baboon was probably early on getting used to feeding her straight from my hand to her mouth. But, eventually I could stick my fingers in her cheek pouches without a worry on either side. My co trainer saw her put some beads from the ground in her mouth once. He simply asked her to open and scraped them out of her cheek pouches.

I go back into the office. Not that bad. I got hired a bit after that…though I doubt that day had much to do with it. That the tigers didn’t injur me or attempt to when they had the perfect chance to bodes well for our relationships. When you work with tigers, it isn’t the boss who chooses who will last.

My dog is on a constant face off with my roomate’s 5 cats. They’re big and imposing, and even though he’s a good 70lbs my dog’s submissive as hell with everything. When at my sister’s he stood up to her Doberman, at least when he was tired of taking abuse, but for the most part if the other party is willing to agree to the rules of the game, Loki is happy so submit. With the cats he’s just curious, and if he gets to close they let him have it and smack and hiss.

I think I’ve moved to the oddest state I’ve ever been in. The roundabouts make me feel like I’m in England, which is good, because I’ve always wanted to go. The jug handles make me feel like I’m wasting a lot of damn gas making unnecessary loops. The full service gas stations make me feel lazy. And the accents make me feel enraged-actually they make me feel slightly annoyed-I just wanted to use the word ‘enraged. And the most annoying ones are on the radio.

I look forward to my first payday on Friday. Supposedly, since it’s salary I will get paid for the current week. When I did my internship, I was always on edge, worried that I would screw something up, and not be asked back. As a result, rather than becoming a tiger trainer, I’d be forced to settle as a PetsMart dog trainer…not that there’s anything wrong with that. That anxiety hasn’t fully gone away even though I got the full time job. When emcee’ing my first shows, I thought I did quite well, and of course my boss thought otherwise. Today, after doing another, I thought I bombed, stumbled over multiple words, just did poorly, but my boss disagreed. I don’t know if his thing is to build you up when you’re having a self esteem problem, then to tear you down when you’re feeling confident, but whatever it is I hope to figure it out soon so I can more easily roll with the punches, or praises.

I have a splitting headache, and behind me my dog scurries at any sort of advance and hiss of one of my roommate’s obtuse (and I mean shape, not behavior) felines. Luckily, Loki seems to lack any sort of shame at the idea of being supplanted by a cat less than (barely) half the size of the 70lb pooch. My sister noticed that his main form of locomotion is prancing. He does this even in retreat.

The lack of tortilla selection and apparently complete absence of sour dough bread at the huge supermarkets and the popularity for the ‘pork roll sandwich’ does not inspire respect for the dietary choices of the inhabitants of my current home state.

My first week has been spent basically getting back into the groove. I have been doing a lot of acclimations with the tigers, which is feeding a pound of meat at a time, just making myself a positive entity in their lives. It’s all just the foundation of my relationship which will be important when I am working in a less controlled situation with the cats. Relationship is especially important when working with any big dangerous animal. It keeps them from wanting to kill you, even when they are ornery. Usually, it keeps them from taking swipes at you, but all bets are off with big cats.

Just like I am acclimating to the tigers and they to me, I am acclimating to the area and state. My ex and I are keeping in touch, and it seems quite likely that after a break we will get back together. Although I love my work, and my co workers are generally hilarious characters, I miss my friends from school. But, they’re dispersed at Sea Worlds, zoos, bird shows, ASPCAs, and other animal facilities around the country probably feeling much the same way.

It’s funny how politics falls by the wayside when you’re following your dream. Maybe it’s selfish, but happiness seems to breed apathy, for me anyway. It’s not that I don’t care at all though; my job also affords me the ability to consider myself doing something positive. Besides treating the animals in my care with the utmost respect, a large part of our show centers on informing people about the conservation status of tigers. The message and efforts could be improved, but hopefully I will be around for long enough to have some more input. In school I was doing shows for one or two or three hundred kids at the most. Now, at work we get to reach over a thousand people when the audience is only 2/3rds full two or three shows a day. Unfortunately, most of the people are there for the rollercoasters, and any words go straight in one ear and out the other. But still, building respect and awe for these animals in person seems like the best and most effective way. And you can’t care to save something you don’t love. And how can you love something you’ve never seen? It’s likely a losing battle, but I feel better for fighting in some small way.

You learn a lot about people when you have to deal with them on a regular basis. You learn that there are a lot of bad kids. Mostly, you learn that most of that has to do with their parents. At school, I remember a day I was stationed watching our Galapagos tortoise. You see, there is just a steal 3 foot high fence in between him and the public. The public could easily hurt Clarence, but the main reason I figured I was there was so some poor shmuck didn’t walk up, try to pet the slow tortoise, and have his mistaken for carrot finger chomped off. I learned a more important reason when a little kid picked up a rock and whipped it at the 80 year old reptile (he missed). The dad immediately yelled at the kid, picked him up, and apologized to me. Then he dragged him out of the zoo. The problem is, most of the time, it is the parents that are the bad seed. When a kid does something awful, the parent will usually ignore it or encourage it, until I have to inform the family of their destructive stupidity, and only then does the parent step in and parrot whatever it was I said, “yeah, Billy, poking at the monkeys with a pencil is going to get your finger bit off, then the monkeys will choke on the pencil and die”. Today, one of my coworkers went out into the tiger habitat with one of the tigers, and picked up 45 cents off the ground. Which brings me to the question: what kind of nitwit throws change at an animal? The answer of course, is a poorly raised one.

The most important part of work so far has been me learning about the individual tigers’ personalities. They’re all Bengal tigers, but there are a few different colorations. Raina is a beautiful cat. Because of her light coloration she appears to have dark eyes. She looks like she could easily be a bit feisty. She is one book that you can judge by her cover. After I fed her a pound of meat, I asked if I should give her a lower rating than 4/5 because she took a minute to respond to me. “No, we don’t have high expectations for her, if she didn’t have aggression, give her a four.” She’s cute, and at 3 years old she’s one of the smallest tigers we have at 330 lbs, but she’s been known to tackle trainers, apparently just for the hell of it. She loves the water, but only seems to go in more than half of her body when her brothers aren’t in the same enclosure. Because of her smaller size, and clumsy swimming skills, they like to pick on her when she gets in.

We move on to her half brother and another golden tabby tiger, Kingda Ka. Golden tabby tigers are essentially white tigers with golden or butterscotch stripes upon a reddish coat. There’s likely less than 30 of these guys in the world and none out in the wild. He’s a big good-looking boy. Kingda Ka is our second largest cat at 550lbs, and he is an excellent swimmer. He’s the only tiger I’ve ever seen swim under the water for long periods of time. They can drag a piece of meat under the water across the pool, and he will follow it with his eyes open for a pretty good chunk of time. I feed him without any issues. He pays attention, and I move onto Kiril.

Kiril is Kingda Ka’s white brother. He’s huge. He’s 600lbs, and with a big 3 year old frame he could grow some more before he’s done. He has big unkempt cheek tufts. He likes the water, but not as much as his brother. He can’t have large chunks of meat, because he sometimes chokes. He can be a bit more difficult because during play sessions he has been known to look at the trainer rather than the toy on the stick. While sitting, his head is at my shoulder height while I feed him.

Chandi is the first 7 year old adult I feed. She’s also white. She does all of the segments of the show well, and is the only cat that can boast such a thing. She’s an excellent performer, and a big female at 375lbs. One misconception about training is that you have to starve your animals, but in most places I’ve dealt with, the animals get the diet at the end of the day no matter what they do during shows or training sessions, unless they are satiated. Chandi is a perfect example. She’s always game, and gets fed as much as the big boys and she looks good and healthy. So she gets her own special diet. She doesn’t like Raina, and will sometimes be distracted during a show and look offstage intently at her. Unlike the other females she’s comfortable in the water, even with her siblings around, and other day she drove her bigger brother out of the pool, with confidence.

Balin is Chandi’s brother and is 520lbs. He’s white and looks a lot like a bigger Chandi. He’s good in the shows. I almost have to flick the meat into his mouth to make it easier for him to chomp down. A lot of people think white tigers are Siberian or albino. They’re really just white Bengal tigers. They carry a double recessive gene. It can be compared to people who have blond hair and blue eyes. Our adults all came from orange heterozygous parents, and they ended up with three white cubs, and an orange one.

Faruk is the only cat that almost never does shows. He is about 450lbs, and almost completely lacks cheek tufts. If he were tan he’d look quite a bit like a female lion. His general routine includes him laying there with his head up staring at nothingness, then maybe going and annoying his brother or sister until they get mad at him and smack him. He likes play sessions, but he gets nervous with a large crowd.

Hara is our only orange tiger, and our smallest at 320lbs, but what she lacks in size she makes up for in attitude (I am ripping that off from our show). She does the show really well and dependably, but doesn’t go in the water. Well, sometimes she will back in and lay in the water. People love white tigers, but I think the distinct orange and black stripes make for the most gorgeous coat on these cats. Apparently, natural selection agreed. She eats, and then lies down, and I need to call her up. She’s great at shows when the behaviors are in quick succession, but she quickly gets bored with something like handfeeding.

At school it was two 150lb mountain lions I needed to learn about to safely work with. Seven 300-600lb tigers is a steeper learning curve, but I’ll get there.