At the Rosamond Gifford Zoo at Burnet Park, Donnelly is one of the few zookeepers who get to visit the baby tigers every day.
Three cubs were born last month to Tatiana, a 350-pound Siberian tiger. The father, Toma, is kept in the outdoor habitat, separate from his young. Despite sentimental portrayals in film or literature, male tigers have little paternal instinct, Donnelly said. Given the chance, she said, Toma would most likely see the cubs as a threat and do them in, a particular tragedy for an endangered species that includes only 200 survivors in the wild.
To Donnelly, that’s how it is: Tigers should be tigers. The staff is careful to avoid "anthropomorphism," or superimposing human tendencies onto animals. The goal is keeping each animal as wild as possible, Donnelly said, which is why no zookeeper is ever allowed on the same side of the fence as an adult Siberian tiger, unless the big cat has been anesthesized.
Wild or not, Donnelly said every animal has a distinct personality. When it comes to tigers, especially the three cubs who are not yet allowed on public view, Donnelly knows the traits as well as anyone. She has learned to distinguish each one by the pattern of stripes on its face and ears. While the babies have not been officially named, staff members use nicknames to tell them apart.
“There’s one we call Yuri — that’s Russian for George — because of ‘Curious George,’¤” Donnelly said. “He’s always the one who’s out and about, and he was the first one to cross the threshold and come out.” The female is nicknamed Misha, after the Russian Olympic mascot, and the other is temporarily known as Kuza. The cubs only learned to walk — rather than “slink” — within the past two weeks, but they’re quickly making up for lost time.
“They’re everywhere now,” said Donnelly, who watched Thursday as one cub played relentlessly with its mother’s tail. The little tigers are gradually growing accustomed to Donnelly, 46, who tries to build a respectful connection with the many animals in her care — including the tigers, snow leopards and Amani, the lone gray wolf.
Amani used to be part of a small pack at the zoo, until both her companions died of old age. Last week, spectators above the habitat could see no sign of the animal until Donnelly walked past and called “Amani” in a soft voice. There was a rustling in a thicket of brush. The wolf emerged and stared intently toward the fence.
“I’ve known her since she was a pup, and I think we’ve gotten closer since she’s been alone,” Donnelly said.
As for the tiger cubs, they're still shielded from the public. Tatiana gave birth in a secluded indoor “cubbing” area, roughly the size of a walk-in closet. For protection against potential disease, as well as stress, the cubs remain indoors. Donnelly said they’re expected to go outside in late August, once they’ve received all their vaccines. Until then, visitors watch them by video monitor.
Donnelly and Peg Dwyer, zoo collections manager, stop in to see the cubs at least once a day. Food is used to lure Tatiana into a different area, where two walls separate her as staff members check over her babies. While Donnelly has learned to make a “chucking” noise that comforts young tigers — a central part of the way the species communicates — the cubs, especially Yuri, growl or hiss if they are held.
“There’s nothing tame about these guys,” Donnelly said, which is fine with her: Tigers should be tigers, and her awe at their beauty does not wear off.
“Their size, their power .... they’re just majestic,” said Donnelly, offering an example of what she means: Last week, Toma, the 450-pound male, was sprawled in the sun when he saw Donnelly near the fence with a bucket of raw meat. Toma jumped up and loped across the habitat, then gobbled down some meat as the zookeeper gently spoke to him.
When the tiger noticed that Donnelly was accompanied by people he didn’t know, his green eyes settled on the strangers and his ears went flat against his skull. Asked what it means, Donnelly offered a trace of a smile.
What it means, she said, is to be glad the fence was there.