A taste of animal magic

Even during the short days of winter, Dublin Zoo is one of the most exciting places in the capital to visit, writes Eileen Battersby

A grey corner suddenly bursts into colour: orange, white, black. The male Amur tiger leads the way ahead of the two young females. The trio approach the large hunks of fresh, dark red meat. No one in their right mind would dare intervene, but the tigers nonetheless exercise a degree of traditional caution, sniff the chill winter air for challengers and amble towards the meat.

The male is nine years old and a fine example of the largest of all the cats - including the lion. He summons up a lazy trot and snatches the largest piece, which appears to be a major joint from a big animal. Hunkering down, he holds it between paws bigger than horse's hooves and begins to lick the glistening meat.

If the lion is king of the jungle, the tiger is undisputed lord of the forest. The poet William Blake was right. "What immortal hand or eye/ Could frame thy fearful symmetry?" Amur (once known as Siberian) tigers, are facing extinction. They are natives of the Amur valley in the Russian Far East, the largest area where wild tigers still live. Thanks to man's destruction of their natural habitat as well as the ravages of poaching, there are only about 400 Amur tigers left in the wild, with about the same number living in zoos.

Meanwhile, the two females are competing for one hunk of meat; a second piece lies ignored in the grass. There won't be much of a fight. After all, this is an enclosure in Ireland's most popular family attraction, Dublin Zoo, which was founded by the Zoological Society of Ireland in 1831. These contented animals don't have to hunt for their food and now, during winter, their feeds are increased. The female with the meat jogs over to a large log and, balancing as delicately as a domestic pet, starts licking her trophy. Her disgruntled companion looks on, an expression of half-hearted woe across her face. She sighs, then sits down on the other end of the same log. Having failed to outstare her companion, she pretends to be disinterested, and offers her rear view to her pal, who is now chewing her prize.

On the other side of the glass, in the viewing bay, the enthralled humans look on. We are close enough to see the tiger's whiskers quiver, look into his pale amber eyes, and presume to wonder at his thoughts. Many people object to animals being held in captivity in zoos and circuses. And it's true that an animal in a zoo becomes an exhibit - but how else would most of us ever experience the privilege of observing so closely these majestic creatures that man has endangered?

Dublin Zoo's tiger trio is part of a European zoo breeding programme. Their enclosure includes 1,000 small trees of the species found in their native habitat. There is an artificial stream, lake, rocks, vegetation and logs - all to add interest and prevent the tigers becoming bored.

Nearby, a pair of snow leopards, together now for almost a month, appear to have settled down. They are very pretty - and elusive. Their natural pale grey camouflage helps them merge with their surroundings. A lone male jaguar sits on a rock in his compound. He looks very well. At 20 years of age, he has already lived about 12 years longer than he would have in the wild. In exchange for freedom to roam, Dublin Zoo's 800 animal residents enjoy the benefits of modern veterinary medicine, regular food - which is varied as much as possible to prevent the animal becoming complacent - and in winter, infra-red heat lamps, which are added to their huts and sleeping areas. They are also protected from poachers and hunters.

The pair of Sumatran tigers, the smallest of the five surviving of the original eight sub-species of tiger - are the jaguar's neighbours. The male is scruffy, with a tufty little mane. The female turns and looks directly at us. Already the mother of two litters, she is a superb specimen. Her face is a mask of spectacular beauty.

Nearby the Arctic fox cubs are being fed; they will be introduced to the public later this month, though they may be difficult to spot in their current enclosure, which is vast.

Curiosity, not fear, appears to be the prevailing emotion among most of the animals. The macaque monkeys, black-faced and elegant, are interested to the point of appearing to want to chat. The zoo also has pot-bellied black-and-white colobus monkeys and playful black spider monkeys.

A splash of wild pink through the trees across from the big cat area catches the eye. A flock of Chilean flamingos are gathered in their pond. A heron cuts across the sky. A marabou stork ponders existence, but beware of the Southern Ground (also known as Abyssinian Hornbill), viewed in Africa as a bad omen.

At any given moment, members of the wolf pack will dart into view. A young male peers at us with an air of outrage. The alpha male looks on from the top of a rock. These are the grey wolves, the largest wild members of the canid family. According to zoo director Leo Oosterweghel, on a clear night they begin to howl at about 1am. It makes an eerie music. Far less romantic is the barking of the California sea lion, a lazy character who lounges around in his pool and looks as if all he wants to do is watch endless American football games on a round-the-clock sports channel.

The Humboldt penguins, however, are busily patrolling. Bustle is second nature to them. Not even the sea lion seems as slow-moving as the sloth, which picks its way across a net-and-rope canopy using its hook-like toenails. This is an animal with a metabolism so slow, it takes about a week to digest its food. The little Goeldi monkeys swinging from the ropes are a lively contrast. The red panda, a racoon-like animal with a puppy's face, a bottle brush tail and chestnut fur, gazes at us and then runs on.

It is time to visit the African Plains. The Bongo mother is quietly grazing. The largest of the antelopes, her coat is a wonderful chestnut colour with white stripes, but her sturdy body shape is more like that of a tapir than a deer.

In the distance the lion is roaring. At our approach, he stops and stares. Now 23, he looks old and slightly world-weary. Still, the closer we get, the quicker his pace becomes. He hurries into his den, straddles across the entrance and blocks our view of his mate. After about 10 minutes, her ears begin to appear across the line of his back. Finally, she raises her head, looks at us and, noticing the absence of a camera, sinks back down into her nap.

The neighbouring compound contains the red river hog (or bush pig) who begins its courtship ritual by placing its chin on its beloved rump. The hog looks happy considering that in the wild it is the favourite prey of the lion.

Several members of the African wild or painted dog pack race across their playground. It is like watching domestic dogs.

The three rhinos have decided to go into their huts and are busily eating hay as diligently as horses. Despite their armour-like hides and distinctive horns, these dinosaur-like creatures appear peaceful, almost benign, and it is surprising to learn that their neighbours, the hippopotamuses - including Henry who is now 17 and appears to be in deep thought - are not as mild-natured as is generally assumed. Hippos regularly attack and kill humans in Africa.

A couple of ostriches are engaged in creating a living still life. The only movement is the breeze ruffling the wing feathers of these normally fast-running, non-flying birds. Close by are the antelope-like oryx, whose long, elegant antlers look as if they were carved by an African craftsman. Second in glamour to the fabulous cats is the zebra, the stocky pony-like creature whose striped coat is as beautiful as it is individual. Half a dozen zebras enter their stable area, looking like ballet dancers backstage after a performance.

It is almost dark and the giraffes have retired to their pen, which is like an aircraft hangar with plenty of head height. Their dainty heads look tiny on their long necks, far away from their bodies. These are nervous, flighty animals. One of them bends down low to the glass, bringing its expressive face close enough to see the moisture on its nose. As night falls, some of the animals settle down to sleep, while others relax, aware that the sideshow provided by the strange-looking visiting humans is about to end for another day.

The constantly changing zoo becomes yet another world at night, and during the short days of winter, dark comes quickly and the infra-red lamps offer additional comfort to the animals. The zoo, a charity funded by sponsorship, donations, membership and gate receipts, has retained its Victorian grace while creating, under Oosterweghel, increasingly effective landscaped and imaginative environments for the animals. It attracts 730,000 visitors annually - along with the Chester Beatty Library, it remains probably the most exciting place to visit in Dublin.

Dublin Zoo is open Mon-Fri 9.30am to dusk, and Sun 10.30am to dusk