At Zooniversity, we get at least one e-mail each week from a college student who idyllically aspires to be a wildlife educator. They spent years admiring those larger-than-life TV guys working with animals and have hopeful visions of becoming the next wildlife conservation idol. Besides asking for a job, they almost always ask, "What do I need to do to become a wildlife educator?"

The answer is not a simple one. The necessary skill sets are an odd mix of cognitive scientific knowledge, acute audience management skills, and that mysterious "Q factor" that it takes to make an audience like you. Here’s the cold, hard fact that most of these college kids don’t want to hear…ANYONE can display these animals (as long as they religiously follow the federal, state, county and city wildlife laws), but not ANYONE can be good at this.

The delivery of animal information is actually the easy part. Learning the textbook facts about each species, learning their adaptive and wild behaviors, reciting the Latin Genus species names…all that is the really easy part of the job. The tough part cannot be taught, cannot be memorized. Three additional skills need to be mastered: (1) the ability to control the behavior of a collection of program animals, with unique personalities, under incredibly stressful conditions, with little to no risk of a problem, (2) the ability to politely, yet diplomatically manage an audience’s behavior (including the ever-challenging, young audiences) with little to no risk of a problem, and (3) the intangible, indescribable skill of getting an audience to "like you."

So, what is our sage advise for those eager college students? What do we suggest they do to prep them for their dream job?

"What do I need to do to become a wildlife educator?"

Work With Real Animals: Get as much hands-on experience with animals as possible. Volunteer at the shelter, the veterinary clinic, the horse ranch, the zoo, the exotic sanctuary, the local wildlife rehabilitator, your local chapter of the Audubon Society, Master Naturalists, or herpetological society. Take a no-pay internship at a sanctuary or respected wildlife company. Do anything to get some real hands-on skills. Rake the cages, scoop the poop, haul the garbage, design enrichment, build trust, learn their signals, bond, train, love, share the moment. Each animal you work with, each scratch, each bite, each lick or cuddle, will teach you with lessons that can only be learned from the real teachers — the animals.

Work With Real People (Especially Kids): A critical skill is NOT taught in school — how to manage a crowd’s behavior to limit the risk of a problem. Whew, this is tough. Crowds of kids are especially tough. Crowds of kids with their parents are even tougher. It’s a VERY fine line between diplomatically directing a crowd for their safety and enjoyment — and ordering them around like the Gestapo. The only way to learn how to tight-rope walk that fine line is through experience. Work as a camp counselor or a day care teacher. Work customer relations at a theme park, fair or festival, or zoo. You’ll quickly learn what works and what offends. We still learn every day how fine his line can become if you get overly demanding. The sting of each lesson learned lasts a long time — learn how to walk the line before you try wildlife education.

Stand Up There Naked: Okay, it’s a just a metaphor, but you need to experience the vulnerability of being a presenter and you need to feel both the admiration or the distain of a human audience…again, and again, and again. Find every opportunity to do public speaking. The subject matter doesn’t matter. Join the debate team, the Toastmasters or Salesmanship Club, speak on behalf of your club, fraternal organization or political party. Sing a solo in the choir, get cast as a lead in your theater, preach at your church or temple. Do whatever it takes to stand in front of an audience, and another audience, and another audience. You’ll have to conquer the stage fright, exude total confidence, work the crowd, and develop a tough skin. You need to learn to sense the energy of the audience — both positive and negative — and find those intangible ways to turn it around. Then, there is the toughest part of the job — that indefinable "Q Factor." Audiences quickly decide if they "like you." This is magical, indefinable, nearly impossible to teach, and totally unpredictable. It varies with the time of day, waning of the moon, your attitude and mood – and it only takes a nano-second or an ill chosen word to turn audience admiration into distain. Only years of stand-up experience will teach you how to do your best. If they don’t "like you," anything you try to teach about the animals will fall on deaf ears.

Now, don’t assume that this blog entry is intended to dissuade our young, eager wanna-be wildlife educators from entering the field. On the contrary, we welcome the next generation with their fresh energy to continue our lifetime of effort. We just want them to be fully prepared for what it REALLY takes to be a wildlife educator — a GOOD wildlife educator.

Planning for a Crowd

The most important number to know when planning for a crowd is the maximum fire code room capacity. This is not just an arbitrary figure for you to double or triple as needed, this is the number you must restrict yourself to in audience planning. No joke — we once had fire engines arrive screaming at a library when a disgruntled father, whose tike couldn’t see well in the crowd, got irritated enough by overcrowding that he dialed 911 in protest! This didn’t bode well for the librarian’s future. And, packing in more than the max number is just plain dangerous should an emergency occur. If you can predict potential crowd size, and they won’t all fit into your space, we suggest you:

- offer multiple show times, or

- move to a larger venue, or

- limit your crowd size (keep reading for the how-to’s)

Managing the Numbers

Here are some successful ways other event planners have managed or limited the size of their crowds:

- count the heads as they enter — first come, first seated — turn-away the overflow or offer them the next show [be warned that this method can result in agitated folks, probably not the smoothest approach to customer service]

- require pre-registration or advance ticket distribution — when they’re gone, they’re gone [be aware that this approach requires LOTS of pre-publicity and you'll need to be ready to turn-away those at the door who hadn't read the fine print]

- restrict daycare groups – limit their numbers with advance reservations or don’t allow daycares to attend at all [they're always looking for free entertainment, but is this really your primary audience?]

- restrict the age of the audience — for example, limiting the audience to schoolers (ages 6 years and older) will greatly reduce the number of infants, noisy toddlers, and noisier parents

- restrict the audience to children ONLY – that’s right, "no adults" – and advertise a strict set of audience age limits [OK, we know this makes you cringe, but we know of LOTS of schools and libraries who have successfully weaned their parents from needing to sit with their kids at shows, it can take a couple of years and a few confrontations, but it CAN be done -- call us and we'll put you in touch with those with experience]

Controlling the Audience

The crowd shouldn’t control you, YOU should control the crowd. Here’re some proven tricks of the trade to help you control the masses:

- keep your audience in a holding area – seat them just 5 minutes before show time, the performer will love you forever and the audience volume will stay much lower

- mark the seating areas — if on-the-floor seating, mark the audience areas with blue painter’s tape to show them the boundaries [no mess to remove]

- use staff or volunteers — position them around the room to guide the audience to the seating areas and to enforce the boundaries during the show

- restrict strollers — ban strollers all together or require them to be kept at the back of the room [they take way too much space and are an exit hazard in case of emergency]

- require parents with infants or toddlers to sit nearest the exit doors – announce that noisy youngsters must immediately be taken out of the show area [be prepared to enforce this during show time, as we've had many mothers stubbornly refuse to leave, which ruins the show for the rest of your audience]

- provide a quality microphone/speaker system – set the volume loud enough to maintain the audience’s attention over light chatter

- introduce the performer — announce whatever house rules you and your performer have agreed upon, such as the use of cell phones or video recorders

- instruct your audience how to exit the show area – position staff or volunteers to keep the crowd moving-on out

- provide a private and safe entrance and exit route for your performer – especially when they’re lugging props or animal crates [nothing worse than getting swarmed with your arms full]

- exude confidence and professionalism at all times — be polite, but firm, if challenged — crowds will usually behave according to your expectations, IF you make your expectations perfectly clear

Presenter: "This big green iguana is not green right now, he’s orange. That’s because he’s a boy, and boy iguanas think they are more attractive to the females when they wear orange."  Birthday Boy: "My Daddy LOVES to wear orange."

Presenter: "We are now going to meet a rare rainforest creature (pause)…a kinkajou." Student: "God bless you!"

Presenter: "See how this tiny opossum can hang upside down by his tail to reach his dinner."  Student: "Teacher, what are those purple things? There, right there under his tail. They look like two big blueberries."

Presenter: "The hedgehog has 7,000 tiny hairs that he can stick straight up in the air—like 7,000 tiny needles." Birthday Girl: "Just like my Daddy after his hair transplant."

Presenter: "Now, we’re going to meet my daughter’s favorite animal." Student: "Daughter? You look too old to have a daughter."

Presenter: "This unusual lizard has two large expansion joints that run down the sides of his body. So, if he has a large meal, they can expand to let him eat two times more food at one sitting." Birthday Boy: "Wow, my grandma REALLY needed those at Thanksgiving."

Presenter: "Look at the hedgehog you’re holding—he’s sniffing for bugs. You don’t have any bugs, do you?" Birthday Boy: "Not any more. Mommy cut my hair off and took me to the doctor, so they’re all gone now."

Problem Adults

The Animal-Hugger – The grown-up that ooohs and aaaahs at every animal and incessantly begs to hold it. Once you concede, they snuggle it so tightly, you’re sure the animal can’t breath. One significantly inebriated adult birthday girl had to have 3 friends insist she release our fennec fox from her loving, Margarita-inspired, death grip, before she turned the animal loose.

The Know-It-All – These folks like to interject, at evenly spaced intervals in your program, lengthy comments (cleverly disguised as questions) for the sole purpose of impressing the other adults in the room with their knowledge of the animal kingdom. "Isn’t it true that the tarantula’s exoskeleton is soft and delicate immediately after a shed?" Uh, yep.

The Socialite – The adults, usually women, who treat the party performer as if we were invisible. They never look at the lowly hired help, but ooze hugs and air kisses for the other well-coiffed guests. The Socialites tend to lose track of their children at the party, never hear our clearly announced safety rules, and their cell phones usually ring in the middle of the program — which they answer in a loud voice, since they can’t hear the caller over the trivial wildlife program that’s going on.

The Heckler – Usually a man. He likes to whip-out a clever quip whenever we ask the children an animal question. "Look at this snake’s back, do you see the tree trunk pattern?" "Looks like a pair of boots to me!" he’ll chortle, looking to the other parents for some laughs and back slaps.

The Chatterers – Can be clusters of men or women, but they tend to huddle in the kitchen or in the immediate perimeter of the kid’s party circle where the show is going on. They chatter, non-stop, never quietly, forcing the wildlife educator to speak louder and louder. It becomes a battle of volume to see who can top the other.

Problem Kids

The Questioner – When you only have 30 or 45-minutes to complete an entire wildlife program and still stay on schedule, there’s only time for a few poignant audience questions. Yet, there’s always the one child who asks incessant questions about the animals — of course, the answers were already presented in the show, had they been listening.

The Squeezer – We have a "one finger touch" rule, to avoid undo stress (and potential injury) to the program animal. But, there’s always the one child who just can’t resist. They raise the one-finger up to touch with the greatest self-restraint, and as the animal approaches for a gentle touch, they just can’t control the urge one more second, and reach out and squeeze the animal with their whole hand. Good wildlife educators must know the phrase "one finger" in at least three languages, and repeat it again, and again, and again.

The Fidget – Poor child just can’t stay seated or quiet no matter how many times they are reminded. And, their parent (usually "The Socialite" or "The Chatterer") is too busy to notice their struggle or to come to their aid.

The Sneaky Kid – You can see their little wheels turning… "she’s not looking, now’s my chance, I’ll just sneak a quick peek at what’s in that cage, she’ll never know, here I go…dang!" Nabbed again.

#10 -  “Do you have any storks? I thought it’d be cool to have one walking around my baby shower.”

#9 – “Hello. I’d like to rent an elephant for a wedding.”

#8 – “I’m having a party for 3-year olds at a facility that won’t let you bring your animals onto their property, so could you do a show without animals?”

#7 -  “I need a cheetah for a movie opening so people can pet it.”

#6 -”I’m doing a Curious George party for my 3-year old. Do you have some kind of small monkey, like a chimpanzee?”

#5 – “I’ve read all your safety rules on your website, but I’m calling to see how many of them are negotiable.”

#4 – “I’m looking for a vulture, an owl and a dragon for a Harry Potter party. And, can you dress-up like Hagrid?”

#3 – “I want a special party picture of each guest with a snake wrapped around their neck.”

#2 – “But, my 2-year old REALLY wants a lion at her party.”

And, drum roll please…the #1 most ridiculous request:

#1 – “I don’t want a whole party, just 20 minutes or so…and maybe 10 minutes or so when everybody gets to hold the animals…oh, it’s at a play gym, some kids can play if they don’t want to listen to you…I’ve rented a cotton candy machine too…all the kids are 2-3 years old…I’ve only invited 30 of her friends…on a Sunday night..oh, and I want to pay half price because it’s a shorter party on a Sunday night…what do you mean you don’t want to do the party…what else have you got to do?”

When you are a wildlife educator, you can do hundreds of shows each year. You can meet thousands of adults and tens-of-thousands of children each year. Year, after year, after year. The numbers can be staggering. But, there is always one show, one kid, that you vividly remember…and not for good reasons. My nightmare: THAT show at the Country Club and THAT kid.

Now, I do wildlife shows in Dallas-Fort Worth and we have dozens of country clubs and I’ve taught at almost all of them. And, mostly, they have respectful audiences, appreciative parents and well-behaved children. Except for one country club. It shall remain nameless for fear of never being hired by any of their members again. I am certain, that I will never accept a reservation to speak there again.

Imagine this scenario. An empty ballroom, classically decorated, with a staging area. Nice. Peacefully and quietly you set-up for a show, safely tucking animal carriers in a row under a table, hiding them them with a decorative, protective drape. You set the microphone and do a sound check. Perfect. You take a deep breath and tell the hostess that you are ready when they are and instruct her to have their members enter quietly and sit on the floor. You wait for the expectant country club guests to politely fill the room.

Nightmare begins. Doors fly open and crash against the walls. Children in wet bathing suits flood the room. They’ll stop at the edge of the stage, right? Wrong. Thrashing, shoving children leap onto the stage platform. Aghast, you try to corral them back off the stage. A scream. You twist around to see a dozen kids flipping over the table drape and pulling out carriers. A wildlife educator’s worst nightmare comes to life. You rush to the animals’ aid and verbally discipline the out-of-control chlorine-dripping herd of wild beasts and push them (maybe not so gently) off of the stage. You scan the room, not one adult anywhere in sight. Loudspeaker, quick! Give stern instructions. Request quiet. Have them “catch bubbles” in their mouths (an elementary school teacher trick). Little, by little, you regain decorum. You regain audience control. Almost.

One young boy, maybe 7 years old grins at you from the front row center. It’s not a sweet grin, it’s a devilish smirk. Hmmm, what next. He reaches forward with a hand and out shoots a stream of bright red liquid…ketchup. That kid, that devil’s-spawn, has ketchup packets in both hands and squeezes them until they squirt their contents across the front of the stage and down your pant leg. Squeals of joy. Deafening, shrill, pre-adolescent, peels of ear-piercing laughter. THAT show at the county club. THAT kid.

It’s been years now, maybe two or three, since that scene. The image was neatly filed away in memory, nearly forgotten…until this week. Another birthday party, another beautiful home, another group of curious party guests, another beaming birthday boy. The program begins and all is well with the world. Until the patio door flies open. In bursts a ruddy-faced, tousle-haired boy who interrupts by blurting out, “Hey, I know you. I saw you at the ______ Country Club!” The moment of recognition. THAT show at the Country Club. THAT kid.