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Why Visiting Zoos Internationally Builds Stronger Animal Collections
I keep notebooks. Not tidy ones. They are full of scribbled barrier heights, planting lists, half-finished sketches of enclosure fronts, and questions I jotted down while standing in front of an aviary in another country with a coffee going cold in my hand. Each notebook belongs to a journey, and each journey belongs to a habit I have kept for most of my working life: visiting zoos, birdparks, wildlife parks, aquaria and terraria wherever I happen to be, and then bringing what I saw back home.
That habit has done more for my professional judgement than almost anything else I have done. It is the reason I can walk into a collection and read a room, spot a problem before the staff have pointed it out, and suggest a change that feels possible rather than overwhelming. It is also the reason I believe so strongly that international visiting is not a luxury for the big attractions with travel budgets. It is a development tool that every animal collection, however small, can use to raise its standards.
Crossing a border changes how you look at your own site
Familiarity is the enemy of good design. When you walk the same path every morning, the awkward corner, the dead patch of planting, the sign nobody reads, all of it becomes invisible. A visit abroad strips that familiarity away. You arrive knowing nothing, and you see everything.
Different countries answer the same husbandry questions in different ways. How do you give an animal privacy without making it disappear from the visitor's view? How do you keep a path dry in a wet climate? How do you introduce a species to a mixed exhibit? How do you explain a complex conservation story in a space six feet wide? Watching someone else solve your problem with materials and space you would never have thought to use is genuinely exciting.
The lesson is not that their answer is better. The lesson is that more than one answer exists, and that your own arrangements are a set of choices rather than a fixed reality.
The underrated advantage of being a visitor rather than the person in charge
At home, you almost never experience your own collection as a guest does. You come in through the service gate, you go straight to the kitchen, you deal with the problem of the morning, and you leave through the same door. You know the site from the inside out, which is useful for work and useless for understanding the visitor journey.
When you visit abroad, you are just another person with a ticket. You queue. You follow the signs. You get tired in the middle of the afternoon and want somewhere to sit. You cannot find the toilet. You read a label because there is nothing else to read. You notice that the talk was too long, or exactly right, or that a keeper's brief conversation with a child made the whole exhibit better.
Those experiences are research. Write them down while the frustration is fresh. Then take them home and walk your own site in the same order, at the same time of day, feeling the same tiredness, and you will find a dozen small things to improve without spending much at all.
Small collections gain the most from a wider view
A large attraction has layers of staff, deep reference shelves, and colleagues who have worked across several sites. A small collection may have one or two people carrying everything, with little time to read, let alone travel. That is precisely why the small collection benefits most from a single well-planned visit.
One afternoon in a well-designed birdpark can give a small team a year of ideas. It might be the way planting is layered from low ground cover to canopy so birds can use the whole height of the space. It might be the way a modest row of aviaries is angled so that two thirds of the flight space is hidden from the path, giving the birds genuine retreat while still offering a good view. It might be the wording on a sign, which is where I usually start.
Look at how small sites handle limited space and how they avoid clutter.
Study the retreat options available to animals at the back of enclosures.
Note how few words the best signs use, and how much they achieve.
Watch where staff stand when they talk to visitors, and what that does to the crowd.
A collection with four staff and no travel budget can still take one trip a year, planned around an existing journey or a quiet week, and come back with more material than any single training day would provide.
Birdparks, aquaria and terraria teach different lessons
The phrase zoos, birdparks, wildlife parks and aquaria and terraria sounds like a list of the same thing, but each type of collection trains a different part of your eye. I deliberately seek out all of them, because the principles cross over far more than people expect.
What birdparks show you about flight, planting and sightlines
Bird collections live or die on three things: usable height, planting density, and the direction of a sightline. A good walkthrough aviary feels generous even when it is small, because the planting is layered and the path is routed to give birds somewhere to go that is not simply up. Watch how visitors move through. Note where the birds choose to sit relative to where people stop. Study how the collection mixes species so that one does not dominate the food or the attention.
These observations transfer directly to walkthrough exhibits at home, to mixed species planning, and to the question every bird keeper faces: how do I give this species somewhere to hide without turning the exhibit into a hedge.
What aquaria show you about invisible systems
Aquaria are the best teachers of interpretation anywhere in the sector. The most important things in an aquarium are invisible: water chemistry, filtration, lighting cycles, temperature, the whole life support system behind the glass. Good aquaria find ways to make that visible without lecturing. They show the machinery behind a window, they use a simple diagram, they let a member of staff explain it in a sentence.
Anyone running a collection with a behind-the-scenes story can borrow that approach. Heating, ventilation, filtration, and enrichment scheduling are all invisible systems that visitors find surprisingly fascinating when they are shown properly.
What terraria show you about microclimate and small footprints
Terraria and reptile collections work at a different scale, and that is their value. A terrarium specialist thinks in gradients: warm to cool, wet to dry, open to sheltered. They think about substrate depth, about how a piece of cork bark creates both a hide and a climbing surface, about how a single branch can multiply the usable space in a tank several times over.
These are the lessons a keeper with limited room needs most. When space is the constraint, good terrarium design shows how much can be achieved with careful structure, and how much animal welfare depends on choosing the right gradient rather than simply buying a bigger box.
Wildlife parks and large collections offer a different kind of lesson
Big sites teach scale. How do you move several thousand visitors through a route without it feeling like a queue? How do you keep a collection coherent when it grows over decades? How do you maintain consistent standards across teams who may not see each other often? How do you plan species holdings so that the collection stays meaningful rather than simply accumulating?
The best large collections are also honest teachers about the things that go wrong with success: exhibits that have not changed since they were built, interpretation that assumes prior knowledge, paths that have grown organically into a confusing loop. Seeing those problems in someone else's site is far easier than seeing them in your own. It is also a reminder that a small collection, precisely because it is small, can be more coherent and more personal than a flagship attraction. That is an advantage worth protecting.
What I actually write down during a visit
A notebook full of vague impressions is worth very little three months later. A notebook full of specifics becomes a reference document. I keep a simple running list and add to it as I go, rather than trying to write a report at the end of the day.
The materials used for barriers and how they have aged in the local weather.
Planting structure: what is low, what is mid, what is canopy, and what is purely decorative.
Species mixes and how the animals are distributed through the space.
Signage: the wording, the length, whether there is a photograph, and whether anyone stopped to read it.
Talk structure: how it started, how long it ran, how the crowd dispersed afterwards.
Path and route design, including where people naturally stopped and where they walked past.
Retreat options available to the animals and how easy they were to find.
The time of day, the weather, and whether the animals were active or resting.
That last point matters more than most people realise. An exhibit that looks wonderful at eleven in the morning may be a very different place at three in the afternoon, and you cannot judge an animal's experience from a single snapshot. If I can, I walk the same route twice in one day.
How to talk to keepers without getting in the way
The most valuable part of any international visit is a conversation, and the fastest way to lose that opportunity is to arrive with a sense of entitlement. Zoos, birdparks, wildlife parks, aquaria and terraria are workplaces first. Behaving like a colleague rather than a customer is the whole game.
Introduce yourself briefly and say what you do. Most keepers are generous with their time when they know why you are asking.
Ask at a sensible moment, not in the middle of a feed or a cleaning task with an animal loose.
Do not ask for access to areas that are not open to the public. Accept the boundary the first time it is given.
Follow every biosecurity instruction, including footbaths and handwashing, without being reminded.
Do not photograph staff or visitors without asking. Do not photograph behind-the-scenes areas.
Ask questions that invite reflection rather than ones that imply criticism.
The questions that produce the best answers are simple ones. What would you change here if you could? What did you learn the hard way? How do you keep your records straight when the week gets busy? What enrichment do you find actually works for this species? Keepers who feel respected will tell you more in ten minutes than a whole guidebook.
Comparing without copying
An idea that works in one country may fail completely in another. Climate, species, staffing, budget, visitor expectations and the local regulatory framework all differ, and a design that is elegant in one setting can be impractical or even non-compliant in another.
So I record principles rather than specifications. If I see a clever use of planting to create privacy, the principle is layered vegetation with a clear sightline at one height, not that exact species list. If I see a talk that works, the principle is a short opening, one clear idea, and a question at the end, not that exact script. Principles travel. Specifications do not.
Before adopting anything that touches enclosure construction, animal movement, record keeping or public safety, check the current requirements with the relevant official source in your own country. Your regulator, your local authority and your professional body are the people who can confirm what applies to you. A photograph from a collection abroad is inspiration, not a specification.
How international visiting adds value to the animals in your care
The connection between a flight of stairs and an animal's welfare is not always obvious, but it is real. Visits abroad build judgement, and judgement shows up in dozens of small decisions that never appear in a report.
Enclosure changes are thought through rather than rushed, because someone has seen five ways of solving the same problem.
Species choices become more deliberate and less driven by what happens to be available.
Enrichment schedules get more varied, because ideas are borrowed from collections working with similar animals.
Staff feel more confident and less defensive when a visitor or inspector asks a difficult question.
Problems get spotted earlier, because someone has seen them before in another setting.
There is also the network. A keeper in another country who remembers you is someone you can message when an animal stops feeding, when a breeding attempt fails, or when a piece of equipment behaves oddly. That kind of practical support is hard to put a value on, and it only comes from showing up in person.
Value for visitors, staff and the wider collection
The commercial side follows the animal side more closely than people expect. A team that has seen excellent interpretation will write better signs. A team that has watched a great talk will give a better talk. Visitors notice this even when they cannot articulate it. They stay longer, they read more, they ask better questions, and they leave with a clearer story about what the collection does and why it matters.
Staff development works the same way. People who have visited other collections can contribute ideas instead of waiting to be told what to do. That changes the atmosphere of a team. A small collection that sends one member of staff to see a birdpark, an aquarium and a terrarium in the same week comes back with three advocates for change rather than one person with a notebook.
Making international visits realistic on a small budget
I have never treated travel as a separate line of spending. It is part of how I work, and it gets folded into journeys that are already happening. There are several ways to do this without a formal budget.
Add a collection visit to a personal trip, a family holiday or a journey for another reason. Half a day is enough for a focused look.
Choose collections you cannot see at home. There is little value in travelling to see the same design three times.
Visit a large flagship and a small collection in the same area, and look at the contrast deliberately. The differences teach more than either site alone.
Use public transport where it is practical so that the day is about observation rather than parking.
Go on a quiet weekday where possible, when staff have more time to talk and the paths are easier to read.
Write the notes up before you leave the city, while the detail is still sharp.
For organisations, the case is straightforward. A single visit generates material that can improve signage, planting, enrichment, interpretation and staff confidence, and it does so at a fraction of the cost of a major rebuild. Sponsoring one staff member to travel and report back is one of the highest-leverage investments a small collection can make.
Bringing it home: the one-page habit
The difference between a nice trip and a useful one is a page of writing afterwards. Mine is always the same shape, and it takes about twenty minutes.
Three things I want to try at home, with a first step for each.
Three things I want to avoid, and why.
One thing I need to research before deciding anything.
One person I met who I should stay in touch with.
That page goes into a folder, gets shared with colleagues, and gets revisited before the next project. Over a few years the folder becomes a genuine reference library of ideas, all of them tested by someone else and observed by you. When a colleague asks how a particular species might be housed, or how a small exhibit might be interpreted, you have an answer with a photograph attached rather than a vague memory.
Why the international part still matters
I could learn a great deal from collections within my own country, and I do. But crossing a border does something that a domestic visit cannot. It removes the assumptions you did not know you were carrying. Different regulatory cultures, different public expectations, different climates and different histories all produce different answers to the same welfare questions, and seeing those answers side by side makes you a better judge of your own.
It also builds reciprocity. Visitors who behave well get invited back. Collections that host well get hosted in return. Husbandry notes, enrichment ideas and hard-won practical lessons pass between people who have stood in each other's sites and talked honestly. That exchange is what makes a sector strong, and it works in both directions between grand attractions and modest ones.
Where a consultancy can help is in turning a notebook of impressions into a practical plan. Reviewing welfare, tightening records, redesigning signage, preparing for inspection, or working through a species plan all benefit from a fresh pair of eyes and a structured process, which is the work we do at Animal Insights Consultancy. A visit abroad supplies the inspiration; good process turns it into change that lasts.
Frequently Asked Questions
How do I get the most from a single day at an overseas zoo?
Walk the site once without stopping, then walk it again slowly. Note how the route works, where people gather and where the animals can retreat. Time your second circuit for a different part of the day so you see the collection under different conditions. Leave time for one proper conversation with a keeper, and write your notes before you leave the area.
Is it appropriate to ask keepers questions during a public visit?
Yes, provided you pick your moment. Introduce yourself, explain briefly what you do, and avoid interrupting a feed, a cleaning task or an animal handling procedure. Accept a boundary the first time it is offered, follow all biosecurity instructions, and ask questions that invite reflection rather than ones that sound like criticism of their site.
What should I record when visiting a birdpark, aquarium or terrarium?
Record structure rather than decoration. For a birdpark, note planting layers, usable height and sightlines. For an aquarium, note how invisible systems are explained to the public. For a terrarium, note gradients, substrate depth and how structure multiplies usable space. Add the time of day and the weather, because animal behaviour shifts through the day.
How can a small collection benefit from international visits on a limited budget?
Fold a visit into a journey that is already happening and choose one or two collections you genuinely cannot see at home. Focus on principles you can adapt rather than specifications you can copy. Then write a single page of notes with three ideas to try, three to avoid, and one thing to research before acting.
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