Placing Animals
Welcome to our series on animals, ethics, and geography
by Julie Urbanik, PhD
As I sit down to write this column, I hear the thump, thump, thump of my 14-year-old rescue cat, Bubbles (aka Ziggy, Boo Bear, Bun Bun, and/or Pig Boy), coming down the stairs to see what I am up to. After a few headbutts against my shoulder, he sits down on the side table next to the couch and leans his whole body against me while wrapping his left paw around my left arm and begins to purr loudly. This intimate interspecies routine plays out regularly, yet the weight of him against me and his yellow eyes turned up into mine never fails to arouse in me a smile and a rush of love.
In fact, Bubbles was a mere 3 years old when I was writing the book, Placing Animals, that this column is now named for. The cover image for the book is a photograph I took of a rescued lion at the Turpentine Creek Big Cat Rescue in Arkansas.
The gaze in his eyes, to me, sees beyond his enclosure, beyond his past at the hands of who knows who, and, heartbreakingly for me, reminds me of the Rilke poem The Panther:
His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
Has grown so weary that it cannot hold
Anything else. It seems to him there are
A thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.
As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
The movement of his powerful soft strides
Is like a ritual dance around a center
In which a mighty will stands paralyzed.
Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
Lifts, quietly—. An image enters in,
Rushes down through the tense arrested muscles,
Plunges in the heart and is gone.
The only time Bubbles has been “behind bars” is when he is placed in the cat carrier to head to the vet. This experience causes him intense distress and his howls, inside the close confines of the car, feel as loud as a lion’s roar. But while Bubbles gets to leave his carrier, this rescued lion at Turpentine Creek will never get to leave that enclosure any more than the panther in the Paris Zoo Rilke was writing about in 1902/03. Zoos, rescues, homes, and drug dealer sites are all places that invite reflection about the different experiences, encounters, and relationships with nonhuman species like the domestic cat (Felis catus) and the lion (Panthera leo) any one of us might have. It is this attention to place and encounter that undergirds the growing field of animal geographies — and this column.
Geography is a field of study that explores where, how, and why earthly phenomena happen as well as the connections between phenomena. It is simultaneously about the specific and the general patterns of human and natural life. For animal geographers then, the focus is on where, how, and why we have the relations we do with other species. This includes how, and if, we are able to know them in their individual and collective capacities. As I shared in my book, animal geographers explore all major categories of animals: wildlife, farmed animals, working animals (e.g., animals used in science research, law enforcement, in animal-based entertainment and tourism like aquariums), animals as companions in our homes, and animals in our cultures (e.g., sports mascots, religion). Animal geographers are interested in understanding animal-based economies, the politics and policies around other species, the animals themselves as individuals and collectives who live in particular places, and how human-nonhuman relations have changed over time and across cultures.
Consider for example, how what is considered ethically right or wrong can depend on geographical location for the same species. Domestic cats, for example, are treated very differently depending on where they are and how much their subjectivity and intrinsic value is recognized. Regarded in the U.S. mainly as companion animals in the home, cats are seen in some parts of the world as invasive species that need to be eradicated. Indeed, even in the U.S., controversies over whether cats should be indoors only, whether feral/cat colonies should be cared for or culled, or experimented upon are ongoing. Even if someone sees a cat as a companion, they may believe the cat belongs outside and not in the home. And while many people agree that kicking, starving, or otherwise abusing cats constitutes cruelty, they may have no problem getting cats declawed even though it causes a lot of pain and problems for the cats themselves. The joy and love some people have for cats is reflected in the fact that it is cats, not “human’s best friend” the dog, who helped shape the internet.
The same geographic variations occur with lions. Wildlife tourism in the parts of Africa where wild lions live can help local economies (but sometimes not depending on where the money flows), help protect lion habitat, and educate tourists about the intrinsic value of lion lives. Lions are also hunted as trophies both in the wild and in so-called canned hunting because some people value dead lions more than live ones. Lions are also feared in the communities that share their space and can be a real danger, but lions in entertainment venues like zoos or live animal shows are experienced as thrilling and wild even though they are captive and forced to perform or be on display. Until December of 2022, an individual in the US could own a lion, but a new federal law now prohibits such ownership. It is estimated there are around 20,000 big cats (e.g., lions, tigers) privately owned in the US as part of the exotic pet trade community. In essence, humans love, fear, hate, spoil, harm, kill, buy, sell, trade, cats both big and small. And, yet, the cats themselves, no matter their size all share a variety of individual qualities and personalities that reveal them to be delightfully complex, curious, experiential beings.
I was drawn to geography specifically because of its disciplinary interest in seeing the differences and connections in places and across space and, going forward, I hope to use this column in a variety of ways to help us all engage with the complex ways geography functions to shape our relations with the nonhuman world around us (and within us). As we begin this journey, I will close by offering a reflective exercise for you to do in relation to your own geography with animals:
Using whatever medium you prefer (writing, poetry, painting, collaging, digital art, etc.), articulate/express your top 5 animal-centered experiences (positive or negative), where they happened, and how they shaped your views of those particular species. Please feel free to leave a note about the results in the comments!
Julie Urbanik is an animal geographer, mitigation consultant, and fellow with PAN Works.
If you are a professional working at the intersection of geography and animals interested in contributing to this column please go here for more information.
For more about our work, please visit us at PAN Works.
