The Big Issue

ca 2013

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Before walking unarmed and unprotected into a cheetah enclosure and encountering its unrestrained, untranquilised contents, it’s worth considering what you’re up against. As the fastest land animal, a cheetah can sprint at up to 120 kmh. Usain Bolt meanwhile can only manage 45 kmh. A cheetah can reach its top speed in just over three seconds, which is roughly how long it takes me to get off the sofa.

 

So when taking part in the ‘Meet a Cheetah’ experience at Canberra’s National Zoo and Aquarium, you must trust the cheetahs to behave themselves.

 

The Zoo’s website has some unnerving do’s and don’ts about Meet a Cheetah, which include the suggestion that you turn off your mobile phone as its ringing “may cause problems”. Long hair should be tied back for “safety reasons”. It adds that “generally speaking, perfume will not have any effect one way or another”. I guess that means if you’re hoping for romance you might have to rely on charm. Generally speaking.

 

It also states, somewhat ambiguously:

 

The behaviour of any of the animals at the National Zoo & Aquarium, or the outcome/level of interaction is not guaranteed under any circumstances …

 

Finally, the Zoo asserts in bright red capitals that:

 

THE USE OF WHISTLES OF ANY TYPE, ANYWHERE ON THE ZOO GROUNDS IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. THESE ARE USED BY ZOO STAFF IN AN EXTREME EMERGENCY.

 

On the fateful day, I therefore made a point of leaving my whistle at home, presented myself at the zoo’s entrance, and signed the indemnity form for the surly teenager on duty. Making my way to the cheetah enclosure I tried to cast from my mind Hillaire Belloc’s cautionary tale about Jim, the boy who ran away from his nanny at a zoo and was pounced on by a lion:

 

Now, just imagine how it feels

When first your toes and then your heels,

And then by gradual degrees,

Your shins and ankles, calves and knees,

Are slowly eaten, bit by bit.

No wonder Jim detested it!

When my turn came to go in, a relaxed and chatty keeper came and fetched me and another punter. The enclosure resembles a large and nicely laid-out garden with plenty of shady trees. The only real difference is the 15-foot high fence that could stop even the most determined velociraptor. While trying to walk in a non-gazelle-like way, I couldn’t help but feel that death by cheetah has a faintly romantic ring to it.

 

Cheetahs are slightly larger than a Doberman. Like most big cats they kill by sinking their sizeable fangs into the throats of their hapless prey and asphyxiating them. A much quicker big cat death is that inflicted by the jaguar, which pounces on you from nowhere and whose jaws are powerful enough to crush your skull.

 

“A cheetah’s jaws only have as much crushing power as a dog’s,” said the keeper. “They can do you a fair amount of damage if they want to, but if you can’t fend off a 50-kilo animal there’s something wrong with you.”

 

I was just thinking of a riposte to this somewhat absurd statement when I saw the cheetahs – Ailsa and Zingula. That sensation, the thrill of beholding these magnificent animals with nothing between you and them but mutual goodwill, is unique in my experience. There’s a feeling of privilege too. The cheetah is a beautiful animal and a vulnerable species, and suddenly there they are: two of them, lying in the shade of a tree, waiting for you to tickle their tummies.

 

At just over two years old, Ailsa and Zingula are barely mature. Both are females and were born in a South African cheetah breeding centre.

 

After a few mumbled instructions from the other keeper I was squatting by Zingula, the feistier of the two. The technique for patting them is identical to that for a domestic moggie, and the response is similar. Except that a cheetah’s purr is loud enough to resemble a dog’s growl.

 

“Oh, she’s definitely purring,” said the keeper. “If she was unhappy, you’d know.”

 

In the eyes of purists, the fact that a cheetah can purr but can’t roar is what excludes it from being one of the true big cats, namely tigers, lions, leopards and jaguars. But that distinction has no meaning when you’re next to a cheetah. If a cat is big enough to successfully attack you, it’s a big cat.

 

But wild cheetahs almost never attack people as an adult human is too large to be seen as prey. Certainly Ailsa and Zingula haven’t (presumably) and it’s very hard to imagine them doing so. I’ve felt more uneasy around large dogs owned by people blind to their character flaws.

 

That said, the cheetahs are only relaxed because the keepers are around. If they weren’t, you might encounter the sort of ‘problems’ referred to on the website.

 

But the fact that this article has been written by me and not my next of kin suggests that I have survived with the use of at least one hand. I would not pat a lion or tiger, but cheetahs are just right. They’re big enough to be impressive, majestic and exciting to be around, but not large enough to give you more than an occasional frisson.

 

Like when one of the keepers began dragging a cushion along the ground to liven things up. Zingula rose to her feet, eyes wide as a kitten’s, alert and playful. She sauntered past me, brushing my thigh, but her fine clear eyes were fixed solely on the cushion. 

 

Or when Ailsa suddenly yawned, her gorgeous fuzzy head transforming into a cavernous, fang-filled maw, before she subsided back into a semi-doze.

 

The keeper even felt comfortable putting her fingers in Ailsa’s mouth and encouraged me to make a fist and let the animal lick me. Ailsa flicked her surprisingly smooth tongue over the back of my hand, and immediately lost interest.

 

For the opportunity to meet Ailsa and Zingula, you must hand over $175 (which includes zoo entry). Obviously, you also need to feel comfortable with the idea of big cats being kept in zoos. I have never entirely bought the argument that zoos foster a greater appreciation of animals and therefore indirectly help with their conservation. But Meet a Cheetah strengthens the case.

 

The $175 buys you 15 minutes with Ailsa and Zingula. I had thought that may be a bit long, but I was wrong. I had to be almost dragged away. I felt like a child with their first kitten. It’s a lot of money for not much time, but I’d do it again. No problem.

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Cheetahs in the wild

 

Cheetahs are classified as a vulnerable species. There may be as few as 7000 or so left in the wild in Africa, and only a tiny handful of critically endangered Asiatic cheetahs remain in Iran. Cheetahs have been extinct in India since the 1940s.

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If you would like to find out more about cheetah conservation or make a donation, you can contact organisations such as the Namibia-based Cheetah Conservation Fund (www.cheetah.org), or more broadly the World Worldlife Fund (www.wwf.org.au).