As a budding animal trainer 8 years ago, my internship supervisor set a thick three-ring binder on my desk to peruse during my office time. The binder held a collection of articles and resources on behavior science and various applications in the zoo field.
A few pages, crammed in the cover's front pocket, were printed email conversations between the staff and trainers at other facilities. I sifted through the messages from several years before and found that they contained discussions of whether they should implement a formal animal training program with the resident cranes. From what I gathered, not everyone was on board with the idea.
One concern that a staff member raised was the effect of disturbance on the facility's breeding program. From experience, they had learned that the more time staff spend working around the crane enclosures during breeding season, the more the birds are distracted from their pair bonding, nesting, and incubating. More interruptions meant fewer endangered Whooping Crane chicks hatching. Adding training sessions to the daily routine would certainly increase disturbance and potentially reduce breeding success.
Then I read an email with a sentiment that I think convinced them to give training a chance: an animal that knows what to expect will be less stressed than an animal constantly guessing and fearing the worst.
This idea has stuck with me over the years. When we think of "training," we often think of tricks like teaching your dog to roll over or asking a sea lion to balance a ball on their nose. But every interaction we have with an animal is a training session.
When I enter Otto the Great Horned Owl's mew, I always move in the same predicable ways. Over time he might learn that my movement in one direction means that I'm simply moving his water pan. If I step another way, we're starting a training session. When he knows what's about to happen, he will experience less stress than if he was constantly guessing.
Less often I will have to do something scary. If I need to grab him for a medical check-up, I show him the big welding gloves on my hands first. He learns that big gloves = something scary coming. He also learns no big gloves = safe. This is much better than sneakily grabbing by surprise. Then he would learn that anytime I'm around I might grab him; just my presence could cause stress if he doesn't know what I'm going to do.
Consistency and clear communication both decreases stress and increases trust between us!
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