Pata Zoo and Tiger Temple

A Mixed Scene for Captive Animals in Thailand

It’s a mixed bag for captive animals here in Thailand, some of it well below the surface of most tourists’ experience.  But I look deeper than most, and I’ve seen some interesting things.

For one thing, I’ll bet no tourists have any idea that on the top two floors of a department store in a suburb of Bangkok a gorilla, Bua Noi (Little Lotus) has been living for more than 30 years.  And to keep her company—if separate cages are company—there are a handful of orangutans, a chimpanzee, and dozens of albino crab-eating macaque monkeys.  Oh yeah, and leopards, civets, binturongs and an entire floor full of reptiles and amphibians.  It’s all there at the Pata Zoo in the Pata Department Store, but no tourists ever even hear about it and only a few Thais show up and spend the inexpensive 100 baht ($3) admission.

But I heard about it.  I was certain that the Pata department store zoo had been closed down since I last saw it in 1988, the year Bua Noi the gorilla was imported from a German Zoo.  I was there then to look at every otter in captivity as part of my PhD research.  I sought out the Pata Zoo’s albino small-clawed otter and saw the gorilla and many other animals too, many of them albinos.  But surely it no longer existed, that obscure animal collection on the top floor of the store.

But I stumbled upon a recent internet posting that animal rights groups were trying to get Bua Noi out of the zoo onto a place with “real ground”.  The Thai wildlife authorities sided with the Pata Zoo since the gorilla and the other animals were there legally and were well taken care of.  I just had to go see for myself.

When I visited, Bua Noi and the other animals all seemed as healthy and content as any animals in any zoo are.  They had natural air and light, on the roof of the building, their cages were full of toys and shelves and places to hide if they wished.  The food they were receiving was straight out of the grocery store on the bottom floor of the building and included things like apples (imported to Thailand and expensive) and other items packaged for human consumption. 

Best yet, the animals were all interested in us few visitors.  One orangutan reached out to shake my hand, which I did carefully, hoping it wouldn’t pull me into its cage.  Another orangutan handed its towel out to me, and I grabbed one end and we played tug of war for a while.  When the cat keeper came by the leopard cages all the cats rubbed against the railings to be petted by him, and rubbed their faces on the fences like greeting housecats. These animals are not making money for the rich owner who supports them all with his personal wealth.  And, since at least Bua Noi has been here for many years, longer-lived than most gorillas in captivity, to move her from her known environment where she has been isolated from diseases might cause more harm than good, like the Thai wildlife authorities have suggested.

But some of the other animal places that tourists flock to in Thailand are a different story.  Take the tiger zoos, for instance.  There are a number of these places, including the most famous “Tiger Temple” run by monks.  Here baby tigers are bottle fed by adoring and high-paying tourists every day, round the year, a real money-maker.  But where are all the adult tigers from all of these babies?  There are some adult tigers around but not the hundreds you would expect when all these cubs grow up and live their possible 20 year lifespan, eating at least seven pounds of meat per day. These “generic” tigers breed readily; one tiger I knew at Marine World, Baghdad, had eight cubs in one litter.  But these tigers are not endangered subspecies and no respected zoo has room for them.  And, in the wild, those few tigers that remain are rapidly being killed out by poachers; there is no place to release hand-raised generic tigers, even if they could survive in the wild, which is highly unlikely.

But consider that tiger bones, skins, meat, whiskers, etc. are worth a fortune in the neighboring countries to Thailand—this is what is driving the poaching of wild tigers after all. 

What do YOU think happens to these cubs when they grow up?  Of course it is illegal under both international and Thai laws to trade in endangered species dead or alive but what other explanation is there for the fate of many of these grown up cubs?

So which is worse?  Well-adjusted Bua Noi in the Pata Zoo, or dozens of baby tigers bottle fed then gone missing when they grow up? I know where my vote goes.

Bats near Bangkok

Going Batty

 

It was my the end of my first week in Bangkok , I had spent the time writing up a consulting assignment I had just finished in Cambodia and I was going batty. When my long-time friend Budsabong called me up and invited me to go check out a bat colony with her on Saturday I jumped at the chance.  Spending a day in the countryside looking at bats with an old friend, what could be better!

Since I first worked with Budsabong on otters in Thailand more than 30 years ago she has risen to the high ranks of the Royal Thai Forestry Department, and is now in charge of the Wildlife Research Division.  She had heard about a large fruit bat colony in Samat Prakan Province south of Bangkok where the Chao Phraya River empties into the Gulf of Thailand.  She wanted to find this colony to send her veterinary team out later to catch some bats and take blood samples for DNA and disease studies.  So, on Saturday she and her little Pekinese/Chihuahua sidekick Nemo, and her government car and driver, Samit, picked me up at my downtown Bangkok apartment and we were off!

Driving to Samat Prakan was no problem, but then we had find the bats. We parked along the docks, and Budsabong and Samit set to work asking locals about bats, while I happily babysat Nemo and took photos of the old Buddhist temple (wat) situated nearby.  Evidentially it was determined that these bats were on an island protected by the Thai military.  No problem for us.

With the help of a public boat that diverted a bit from its usual course we were soon walking down the dock of a military compound amidst bold signs in Thai, which I presumed were warning us away.  Camouflage-geared soldiers met us, some Thai words were exchanged, and I was nervous.  But no reason to be as it turned out.  

 

The soldiers led us past an ancient ruined fort with moats and brickwork and moss growing around crumbling stones.  As we passed one opening, everyone, soldiers, Budsabong and Samit alike all stopped to hold their hands in prayer, while looking at some sort of shrine deep inside the ruined building, When I asked, I learned that this was an old piece of the front end of a boat found at the bottom of the gulf and installed in a shrine where people revere it for the good luck it brings.  So, what the heck, I honored it too, with folded hands and solemn demeanor and then caught up with the group walking ahead of me on a boardwalk through a pristine estuarine forest of nipa palms and mangroves. 

Minutes later we were in the midst of more fruit bats than I’ve ever seen in all my life. Hundreds of these “flying foxes” were disturbed by our presence and flew above us, chirruping their dismay.  Hundreds more stayed hanging from their tree branches, watching us with wide-awake eyes, waiting for us to pass.  Samit and I happily took photos while Budsabong chatted in Thai with the soldiers, trying to find out as much as she could about the colony.  All the while little Nemo pulled at his leash, terrified of all the commotion overhead.

Eventually our team of soldiers, biologists, driver and dog left the bats, but the outing was still not finished.  Budsabong had convinced the soldiers to take us in a boat ride around the island, to see the bats from this vantage point which would not disturb them into flight.

So, we all climbed into a little skiff for a boat tour.  On one side of the waterway human development crowded out the scene.  A large port and vessels and huge concrete warehouses and even taller apartments behind these cluttered the view.  But on the other side, on this island protected by the military, it was all natural mangroves and taller trees, all of them with branches loaded with giant fruit bats. 

As we cruised along and took more photos, I admired the cormorants and egrets, just like ours, which stood along the mudflat shores.  Here and there I spotted a decorated floating woven palm Frisbee-sized disk, full of flowers and bright-colored decorations, remnants of millions of these that were released in Thai waterways just two days before during the Loi Krathong Festival.

Eventually the soldiers brought us fully around their wonderful nature preserve of an island and up to a rickety ladder up a muddy bank which we gingerly climbed, and ended up right beside our car in the parking lot.  Mission accomplished.  And time for lunch!

Pi Pi Island is Dead and Gone

It’s thirty years since I first went to Pi Pi Island, Thailand with Bucko and a lot has changed here, and not for the better.  Well I guess that depends on your perspective.  If you are a developer with interests on this island it’s a better world than before.  But if you enjoy seeing live coral, and smooth uncluttered sandy beaches and native tropical vegetation covering the inland mountain, it’s just too bad.  All this is gone.

I’m traveling memory lane here in Thailand, revisiting friends and places from long ago, and with a free weekend to escape from the city, Pi Pi Island made it to the top of my list.  It’s worlds away from Bangkok, but not really. All it took was a taxi, a plane, a minivan, a ferry, a long-tailed boat and 8 hours from start to finish and I was sitting on the beach waiting for my fresh prawns to be cooked with the Andaman Sea lapping at my feet.

Sounds great, right?  Well that was before I ventured further the next day.  I took a half-day boat trip, with the masses, to see the famous sights.  Monkey Island, Maya Beach, Viking Cave and even some snorkeling thrown in.  Bring it on!  

But what a let down.  No longer the pristine place of long ago, this place is crowded!  I was on one of maybe 20 1/2day tourist boats, packed cheek to cheek with twenty people crowded into narrow benches.  But I was in front and could see the scenery.  Good right?  Well even from my vantage point I could barely take a photo without another boat in the picture, hundreds of boats, not only snorkel boats like mine, but large speed boats crammed with economy passengers and small speed boats hired by the wealthy and here for the day.

The first stop, Monkey Island, was really the edge of the subsidiary island here, where a feeding platform lured in monkeys.  Our boat waited in a line of other boats waiting to get our chance to get close and let foolish passengers try to get their picture taken while the monkeys looked for their chance to bite them.

Next stop, Maya Bay, the location where the The Beach was filmed in 1999, a movie about people trying to get away from it all on a secluded beach in southern Thailand.  Not so secluded now.  We had to pay an additional $5 just for the opportunity of crowding in with dozens of other boats of all sizes, all discharging passengers for 40 minutes of walking thru crowds on the beach, or swimming with the masses.  It reminded me of the beaches in New Jersey in my younger days, where you couldn’t even find a place to spread your towel.  No thanks, I’ll just wait on the boat.

Oh and then there was the snorkeling stop.  Hurray, I was going to see the colorful coral and sea fans and butterfly fish and angel fish and giant clams I remembered from my last visit here.  I was the first to jump off the boat with my prescription mask in hand.  Let me at it!

But no.  The coral here was all dead, bleached chunks of rock now, lifeless. The butterfly fish and angelfish and parrotfish that feed on live coral?  Gone.  The live sea fans in all colors?  Gone.  All there was were a few sergeant major fish and sea cucumbers—both common signs of degraded marine ecosystems, and a few pale sea anemones with the most common type of clownfish hiding in the tentacles.  

The situation on land on Pi Pi Island is similar.  It is chock a block full of hotels and cabanas and huts and all around the sounds of construction of many more. The walkways are cluttered with trinket shops, massage and tattoo parlors, bars and restaurants all full of mostly European and Japanese tourists, thousands of them all crowded on the walkways and beaches of this little island only 5 miles long and 2 miles wide.  The once vegetation-covered hill in the interior is now full of hotels all the way to the top and down again on both sides.  And most seem to be full to capacity.  Pi Pi Island, it seems is THE place to go.

The developers and builders and tourist operators are obviously making a killing here, but what has already been killed is the natural beauty of the place. To me, despite the hubbub, Pi Pi Island is dead and gone. 

And, I couldn’t help thinking about another island I still hold dear to my heart, Amelia Island.  Please people, let’s not let this happen to us!