Tag Archives: Seneca Park Zoo

A Trip to the Seneca Park Zoo

Well, there I was, sort of stranded in Rochester. I’d dropped my wife off at Strong Hospital for surgery, but what with coronavirus and all, they won’t let you in until she’s back in a regular ward, which in this case meant about eight hours. So since movies, museums, and malls were pretty much out, considering my goal of avoiding the virus as much as possible, I needed something else to do. So I went to the zoo.

Think about it. It’s outdoors, it’s interesting, and it’s easy to maintain your social distance. You can whip right through if you like, or idle along if you prefer. Perfect destination for times like these.

You can learn a lot at the zoo. I learned that I am only of passing interest to snow leopards, and a subject of wary watchfulness for gray wolves. Red pandas, on the other hand, think I’m fascinating.

Nowadays, as with most places, admissions are capped to maintain proper distancing. So it’s smart to call ahead and book your arrival time, but I had no trouble arriving around 10:30 on a Thursday and buying a ticket at the gate.

Seneca Park Zoo, like many another, is constantly rebuilding and reinventing itself. That can be a little annoying in some ways, but I like to see thinking and improvement going on. Right inside the entrance a new Tropic Adventure Zone is under construction, soon to form a habitat for animals from the Congo, Borneo, and Madagascar – all creatures that don’t suit our climate at all, and so need highly-specialized habitat. (Old-timers may miss the 1931 Main Building, but better lives for the animals has to be the goal.)

The Cold Asia Zone is already in place, for animals that enjoy a climate roughly similar to ours. It was here that I met the pair of snow leopards, pacing their rough habitat just as they would in the mountains of central Asia.

Right next to them were the red pandas, who at least at the time of my visit were far more active, even a little hyper-active. (The zoo web site says that red pandas spend 13 hours a day foraging.) They were each constantly tracing his or her preferred route through their habitat, including climbing uprights and walking branches. Each time they passed me, though, they stopped to visit for a minute or so, peering through the glass at the strange visitor from another planet. The pandas and the leopards are both endangered species.

The Rocky Coasts area is home to penguins (African black-footed), sea lions (California), and polar bears. ALL of them like the water immensely. I was reading some label copy stating that the polar bear likes hanging out by the window lookout, and was wondering just what location they meant, when I looked down and saw her pacing back and forth almost under my feet. You’d think it would be hard to miss a polar bear, but I almost managed it.

Giraffes and zebras are sharing the African savanna habitat, just as they do in the wild. Zebra feeding stations are, unsurprisingly, at ground level – zebras are grazing animals, after all. But giraffes are browsers, and THEIR feeding stations are on the second floor of an adjoining building – which makes perfect sense, but still looks like something out of a cartoon.

Of course I stopped in to see the river otters, they being some of my very favorite animals… I love to see them sport and play. The otter would swim to one end of his tank, then flip onto his back and zip over to the starting point – every time. And the sea lions were doing the same. Perhaps it’s a Rochester custom.

Anyhow, if you’re looking for something outdoors to do – try the zoo! And there are also zoos in Buffalo (Buffalo Zoo), Syracuse (Rosamund Gifford), and Binghamton (Ross Park). I’ve been to them all.

The March of the Monarchs

In the hot hot week of the Fourth of July, we made the latest of our many visits to the Mystic Marinelife Aquarium. Part of the fun there (even on hot hot days) is making your way along a concrete “sidewalk,” on one side of which are pools for seals and sea lions.

*On the other side is southeastern Connecticut: granite, high grasses, maples, catbirds, croaking frogs, and plenty more. And on one long stretch, I was filled with joy to see, is a monarch migration stop.

*Monarch butterflies, their large orange wings veined with striking black, are easy to spot and easy to identify… even a child can do it, and I hope most children do… it’s often the first, and sometimes the only, butterfly they learn.

*The simple excitement of identification may well change the child’s life. Identify one type of butterfly, and the world suddenly has twice as many butterfiles – this type, and all the others. Learning to spot the monarch may open a lush, overflowing world of nature.

*Monarchs are beautiful, always a joy to see. Unlike any of us, they do absolutely no harm to anyone in the world. They even lay their eggs on the broad leaves of the milkweed, so the caterpillar feasts its whole life on a plant that’s been rated as a pest.

*In their mature butterfly form monarchs sip nectar, and as the flit from blossom tto blossom they join with the bees in pollinating the planst and the flowers that bring us so much joy.

*One end of their range is well to the north and east of us, while the other is in Mexico and Central America. That’s why they need these migration stops, especially as we chew through the natural world and their normal habitat.

*Everybody has to eat, to be sure. But it’s a sorry business that kills off butterflies.

*Here in our neck of the woods Seneca Park Zoo works a Butterfly Beltway program, designed to create safe havens in and around Rochester. Our Department of Transportation… one of New York State’s biggest landowners… has created corridors along which butterfly gardens are spotted on DOT land.

*Few of us would try to fly from Maine to Mexico on paper-thin wings, and few monarchs actually make it. It’s often a multi-generational journey, perhaps two northward and two southward to make a round trip in a single year.

*So they need to rest, recuperate, and shelter as they struggle on. They need to sip nectar. They need milkweed on which to lay their eggs. Since we’ve largely forbidden nature to provide such spaces we need to provide them ourselves. Doing so is a supremely humane act.

*It’s true that we’re acting, in part, in self-interest; we need the pollinators. But it’s also true that we rush to succor these most fragile, most delicate of creatures. And that almost every heart thrills, in great age as it did in early childhood, to the flash and flit of orange in the lawn.

Monarchs and Me

Maybe the hard frost on the seventeenth put an end to it, but at least through Saturday the fourteenth I was seeing quite a few monarch butterflies… never as many as I’d like, but gratifyingly more than I’d expected.

*It’s late in the season, and probably late in their lives, and some are clearly struggling. The one that lit right in front of me on the Letchworth Trail last month had a corner of one wing missing. One that flew in front of my car in Canisteo seemed struggling to stay aloft, and so have some of those I’ve seen in Bath.

*But the one I saw at Mossy Bank Park appeared in fine fettle, and so did the ongoing stream that crossed Post Road in Hartsville every few minutes, bound for the south’ard.

*Monarchs are one of our most recognizable butterflies, rivaled in that respect only by the eastern tiger swallowtail, which is (usually) a bright yellow trimmed with black. The monarch is orange, veined and trimmed with black, and both butterflies are big. They’re probably the first butterflies most kids learn to recognize, and for many folks may be the only ones that they learn through their lives.

*Monarch life is one of nature’s greatest sagas. Those heading south now will, if they survive, make it (on paper-thin wings) across the ocean to Mexico, Cuba, or other warm climes to spend the winter. As bright-leaved spring comes on they will make their way back toward us… but in many cases, will never arrive. Along their way they lay eggs, mostly on milkweed. They hatch as larvae, pupate, and emerge as butterflies. Then they take up the journey, making their way north.

*A round trip may take four generations.

*Since thousands over overwinter in small concentrated areas, monarchs are in grave danger from habitat destruction. The loss of a few acres could mean a population collapse.

*A few months ago, stopping at the I-390 rest area near Mount Morris, I noticed a sign pointing to a monarch butterfly garden. I strolled over in that direction, and the result might have been choreographed by a movie director… “All right, action, enter, walking walking walking – cue the monarch!” Just as I reached the garden a monarch flew straight up to eye level, directly in front of me.

*This garden is part of a joint project between Seneca Park Zoo and the state Department of Transportation. The Zoo has a “Butterfly Beltway” program helping people maintain their gardens so as to encourage butterflies. The highway project leads to planting and mowing being done in such a way as to make a safe flyway for the fall migration.

*Monarchs are one of the finest creatures on God’s earth. They do no one the slightest bit of harm – their larvae even eat plant species such as milkweed, which are generally rated as pests. Sighting a monarch always creates a moment of beauty and joy. My wife and I are still awe-struck by the singular time, some years ago, when 800 monarchs passed over us, heading south, along Mitchellsville Road near Bath.

*As a young boy in Rhode Island I caught butterflies in our back yard, using a net made by my uncle with mesh sewn by my aunt. I put them into jars (lent by my mother) with some grasses, and covered the jars with aluminum foil in which I poked air holes with a fork. I looked to see if I could find them in “The First Book of Butterflies,” given to me by my parents. And very very soon, I set them free. Some of them were monarchs, perhaps the ancestors of those I see here and now, 220 generations removed. Good for you, D.O.T. Good for you, Seneca Park Zoo. A monarch is a little flash of glory. There’s nothing like it in the world.