May 22, 2002
A zookeeper at Busch Gardens recently learned a costly and painful lesson when she looped one finger around a bar in a lion's cage, and the lion grabbed her finger and bit off her arm below the elbow.
If there's a lesson to be learned from this incident, and other incidents involving caged wild animals, it's that these are not house pets, and even the seemingly tame ones are capable of a great deal of mayhem.
A visit to a flea market in Viera reminded me of the importance of being careful around wild animals. A friend and I went to see a "wild cat" rescue presentation, and I noticed that one of the trainers was missing two fingers on his left hand.
Maybe he got his hand caught in a slammed car door, but most likely he got bitten by one of those "cats." It's easy to forget that while wild animals loll in seeming lethargy behind those bars or in those wildlife enclosures, they are killers if the situation calls for it.
Sure, they may look tame, and the babies are undeniably cute, but they are built to attack and kill, and can without warning.
Buried in the brains of these animals is a program developed over millions of years by evolution. If an animal feels threatened or hungry, that program can be activated in a flash, and the results can be tragic.
Even my cat, Garfield, shows evidence of that program. If I pet him the wrong way, he can bite me, and has. But he's a domestic feline with a small mouth and no claws, and has never even drawn blood. A lion or tiger can take off a limb or kill.
A basic concept I learned from the nature TV shows when I was growing up was that wild animals can be hazardous to your health if they get out, and one of us could be their next meal if we got too close or fell into their lair.
This bred some fear, but also a healthy respect for animals taken from the wild and locked up, and I have made it a point to ensure there's lots of barriers between me and any wild animals out there.
To me, that's simple common sense.
Back in my community-college days, I covered the arrival of a Florida Panther (not the hockey-playing variety) at the campus. I was assured that this one had been trained for human contact and would not hurt anyone. In addition to my regular reporting duties, I joined the line and petted it.
Later, while it was being photographed, the panther began to groom itself and the trainer wanted it to stop, so he gave it a light slap across the muzzle. At that moment, I was worried that the panther would attack, but it merely stopped what it was doing. Maybe it was training that kept it from attacking, but with wild animals, even domesticated ones, you never know.
Vincent F. Safuto is a copy editor for the Press Journal. Reach him at Vincent.Safuto@scripps.com.
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