Finding Shelter For The Animals

Flamingos definitely aren't as delicate as they look.

"Did you see that?" screamed MetroZoo spokesman Ron Magill, waist deep in a scummy pond, a flamingo chomping on his right shoulder. "Seven at one time. I look like a freakin' flamingo Medusa!"

As Hurricane Georges bore down on southern Florida, workers at Miami's zoo scrambled Thursday to get their animals safely indoors. The 50 Caribbean flamingos were rounded up last - for good reason.

It was like professional wrestling, only in pastels.

"This is the third time we've had to do this in my 19 years here, and it's ugly," said Magill, pink heads swirling around his body. "But it's better than getting calls from Coral Gables saying, 'Hey, we've got a pink flamingo on our lawn and it ain't plastic'."'

Six years ago, Hurricane Andrew roared through the zoo, killing five mammals and destroying the aviary, which has yet to be rebuilt.

The zoo wasn't taking any chances this time.

Concession areas and bathrooms were closed tight with aluminum shutters. Signs and awnings were taken down. Dumpsters were moved.

Animals were locked down in their night shelters, most of which are made of concrete and steel. The flamingos were headed for the bathrooms. The only animals that didn't get moved are the 500-pound Galapagos tortoises and the Siamese crocodiles.

Down the road a few miles, four days of preparations at Monkey Jungle were coming down to last-minute details.

News About Animals

The gift shop at the 35-acre private zoo was crammed with wire cages and plastic pet carriers covered with newspapers and towels. Real primates have taken their place alongside shelves of stuffed ones.

The shop was filled with the smell of animals marking new territory, however temporary it might be.

Annie, a 4-month-old golden lion tamarin, cried mournfully in her tiny carrier. She clutched the arm of a stuffed orangutan, placed there as a kind of surrogate.

"Any human that is moved into a shelter would be going through the same type of uneasy feeling," said Sharon DuMond, president and third-generation park owner, as she gently pulled Annie from the container and stoked her orange tail.

The park's star attraction, a 27-year-old western lowland gorilla named King, was safely locked away in his concrete night quarters. Animal activists have complained that his cramped habitat is slowly and cruelly killing him, but it seemed to be a pretty good place to ride out a hurricane.

"He's probably got it best of all," general manager Steve Jacques said. "He's got a TV, VCR, a whole lot of food - the whole 9 yards."

During Andrew, the park lost only two or three of its 400-plus animals, Jacques said. The gift shop weathered Andrew well, but the zoo suffered $8 million worth of damage.

"I have to admit, I cried on my way to work," DuMond said, taking a deep breath. "The memories [of Andrew] all came back. Everything's just the same. A beautiful day outside; the winds.

"Knowing that it might not be so beautiful tomorrow, I just tried to commit it all to memory...appreciate the way it looks now."

Written by Allen G. Breed