Leopards and their spots

Lunares lolled on the highest platform of the specially constructed, wooden climbing frame within his enclosure. He was ten metres up, and from this height was able to survey much of the zoo’s activity. There was a lot to see: below him, the throngs of visitors, milling around the enclosures, gripping their childrens’ hands, eating ice creams and taking photos. Or the zoo’s staff, sweeping the paths and emptying bins, or walking to enclosures with buckets of food, or guiding enthusiastic, pamphlet waving groups around the zoo’s paths. And then, there were the other residents, everything from rope swinging primates, through ponderously, slow moving tortoises to colourful, swirling parrots. 

           The noise which accosted his acute hearing could be overwhelming. To aid Lunares’ species when hunting, evolution had developed his senses to a high degree. He had the ability to hear the smallest rustle of a mouse moving through grass. So the combined cacophony of excited human voices, shrieking birds, braying equines, barking canines and every other imaginable animal noise could become unbearable. Similarly, the potent mix of aromas: burgers, odours of fish and other residents’ feeds, and the smell of their excreta accosted Lunares’ sensitive nose. Outwardly, he gave no indication of this. He appeared to be sleeping in the weak spring sunshine, his chin resting on the warm wood, tail trailing from the dais, and front leg casually drooping down. However, closer observation would reveal that, his tail flicked irritably when a fly landed on him, his ears swiftly swivelled in the direction of any unusual sound, and he observed the world through semi open slits of eyes. Occasionally, he would stir, unsheathe his claws, bend to nibble and lick between his toes, giving himself an impromptu pedicure, or turn his attention to his rear end, fastidiously licking his anus, and reproductive organs. After a few industrious minutes, he would flop back down to his original position, as if exhausted by the activity.   

           With his thick pelt spotted with black pansies, clear azure eyes and mitten like paws, he was a regal beauty. He had been bred in captivity, as part of the world’s endangered species conservation programme, and was now four years old. It is estimated that only ninety Amur leopards remain in the wild, and so Lunares and his counterparts are precious commodities. Ultimately, the aim was to release him into the wild, and so interactions between him and humans were kept to the minimum. If the plan came to fruition, he would be transported to his natural habitat in Russia, and released into the Land of the Leopard national park there. First, he was needed to propagate his species in captivity.

           Six weeks earlier, he had been tranquilised and transported from the zoo of his birth, several hundred miles across the country to this zoo, where a female of a similar age was housed. It was hoped that, she, Boutonneux and Lunares would mate and produce offspring of their own. Meanwhile, samples of his sperm had been harvested and frozen for later use. After his journey, Lunares drowsily came to, on the grass of his new home where he had been carefully laid by his keepers; he staggered drunkenly to his feet. As his stability and confidence gradually returned, he cautiously explored the unfamiliar surroundings. He sniffed every blade of grass and weed, approached the enclosure’s border fencing and carefully traced its extent, found and slowly climbed the frame, investigating every level. He had seen Boutonneux, and when she approached their enclosure’s shared boundary, they regarded each other, vigorously inhaled each other’s scents, and then hissed and growled. Lunares had half- hearted swiped at the link fencing with his paw, but it was more gesture than intent. They then embarked on an agenda of studiously ignoring each other. They both knew the other was there, and would surreptitiously watch their neighbour, whilst being careful to appear indifferent to the other’s presence.

           Lunares continued to settle into his new home. Food in the form of raw meat appeared at unpredictable times, and would be placed anywhere in the enclosure or its adjoining covered area. The keepers were only allowed to access each area of the big cats’ homes when they were not in them. So if a cat was in his outside area, the staff could open the door of the sheltered section, and the hatch between the indoor space and the outdoor enclosure would automatically slide shut, and vice versa if he or she was in the inside area. In Lunares’ case this served two purposes. The first was obvious: he was a dangerous animal, who could attack human, so strict protocols for the keepers’ safety needed to be in place. The second was that varied feeding times and places, would help to prepare Lunare for the irregular supply of prey, once he was released into the wild.

.          His enclosure was formed by the chain link fence between his and Boutonneux’s space. By design, this was a minimal barrier, as the intention was for the two animals to become accustomed to the other’s presence.  A long, reinforced glass wall and an eight metre tall viewing tower formed another side, whilst the remaining two sides consisted of high fences, totally enclosed by a second barrier of tall hedges. Thus the public’s physical safety was well protected.

           On one occasion, Lunares demonstrated his ability to adapt to life outside captivity. He was lazing in his usual spot on the apex of the frame, when a small sparrow made the mistake of landing close by. In a flash, one of Lunares’ huge paws whipped out, descended onto the unfortunate bird, and without pause conveyed it into his jaws. On this particular day, a family was admiring the leopard from the viewing tower and witnessed the event. They gave an initial, synchronised, horrified gasp, followed by the children bursting into distressed tears. Later, they complained to the zoo’s management, and public relations work was needed to soothe them, and explain the hope of Lunare’s future release into the wild.

           Early one morning, Lunares woke and sniffed. A different smell wafted through the air. It beckoned him enticingly towards the border between his and Boutenneux’s enclosure. ‘Mmm, hmm. She smelled good!’ She was on ground level, her posture sphinx like, stomach on the ground, front limbs in front of her, head erect. It didn’t take Lunares long to detect the gap in their adjoining fence, where a hatch had been raised to allow him access. The keepers watched from a respectful distance, as he slipped through and advanced towards her. She watched him, only moving her head as he slowly circled round her. There was some playful clawless, raising of paws and swiping at each other when he came too close, and a little growling and snapping of jaws. Eventually, Boutenneux cooperatively raised her lower body from the ground, lifted her tail and allowed Lunares access to mate. He leapt onto her back; bit the scruff of her neck as he entered her. Intercourse was swift and unceremonious. It occurred several times over the next few days, until both parties appeared to be losing interest. The keepers reclosed the hatch, determining that this would be Lunare’s final visit, until the next mating cycle.        

      Things appeared to be progressing well. Samples taken from Boutenneux confirmed that she had conceived. A twelve week wait would elapse before she gave birth. Midway into her pregnancy disaster struck. She had taken to spending increasing periods, sleeping in her more private sheltered accommodation. One of her trained team, a petite woman in her mid- thirties, Anna, decided to take the opportunity to do some housekeeping of Boutenneux’s outside space. She keyed in the security code of the first outside door, as it opened, Anna heard the hatch of the indoor area slide reassuringly shut, closing Boutenneux in. She secured the first door behind her, entered the code for the door of the inner barrier, opened it and walked into the enclosure. She busied herself picking up litter, pulling weeds and scooping up mounds of leopard excreta, shovelling it into the specially provided bin. Next door, Lunares was high up in his favourite position, apparently dozing. Anna noticed that a crisp packet had blown into his area, and was lying in the long grass close to the dividing fence, between his and Boutenneux’s territories. A leopard could easily choke on litter like that, so she slipped her small hand through the chain link to retrieve it. It was a tight squeeze, but she could just about get her hand through, and reach the offending rubbish.  In the blink of an eye, Lunares had leapt from his perch and grabbed her hand in his jaws, attempting to pull her through the fence. Incredible though this feat sounds, Amur leopards can run at a rate of thirty seven miles per hour, jump nineteen feet horizontally and ten feet vertically, so it was an easy accomplishment for Lunares, to descend from the platform and attack Anna.

           Alerted by Anna’s screams, keepers ran and fetched a tranquiliser gun and shot Lunares. By the time, he released the keeper’s arm, and sank sedated to the ground; he had caused enough damage for amputation from below the elbow to be necessitated. Initially, an ambulance crew and police were involved, followed swiftly by the press and the Health and Safety executive. This latter organisation fined the zoo a substantial amount, ruling that the management had been negligent in using fencing with such large apertures. They also recommended that, in future staff entering animal enclosures should only do so in couples, thus militating against the risk of individual error.

           Lunares’ fate hung in the balance. After such an attack most animals would be automatically put down. In part, his rarity saved him, but also Anna admitting that she had been at fault, and begging for him to be saved. It was decided that plans for his release into the wild must be halted. It is unlikely that the Russian authorities would accept him when they heard of his background. The zoo decided that it would be unethical to keep the episode from the Russians, and in any case, the circles within endangered breeding programmes are small, and they would inevitably hear of it. The management were also uneasy about Lunare remaining at their establishment. They were unable to pinpoint exactly why, they just knew that they no longer wanted to keep him. Subsequently, arrangements were made to transfer him to another zoo, where he went on to father more offspring.

           Six weeks after this unfortunate incident, Boutenneux gave birth to three healthy cubs, one male and two females. Another male Amur leopard from France now occupies Lunare’s former enclosure, and staff are hopeful that he and Boutenneux will ‘hit it off.’