Zoo Atlanta

Listen for a moment. Under the oaks of Grant Park, the city noise softens. You may hear the low call of a bird you cannot see, the scuff of stroller wheels on the path, and somewhere ahead, the deep, chesty rumble of a large animal moving through the trees. The air smells of mulch, warm leaves and damp earth. Welcome to Zoo Atlanta, one of the oldest zoos in the United States, and a place with a longer and stranger story than most visitors expect.

That story begins with a circus that went broke. In 1889, a travelling animal show ran into financial trouble in Atlanta, and its animals were put up for sale. A local businessman named George Valentine Gress bought the collection and gave it to the city. The animals came to Grant Park, a large public park on the southeast side of downtown. So Atlanta did not plan a zoo. It inherited one, more or less by accident.

Grant Park itself is worth a thought as you walk. It is one of the oldest parks in the city, with rolling ground, tall hardwood trees and old stone features scattered through it. The surrounding neighbourhood carries the park's name. It is known for Victorian houses with deep porches and tall windows, many of them restored over recent decades. When you leave the zoo, a short walk along these streets shows a very different side of Atlanta from the glass towers downtown.

For much of the twentieth century, the zoo grew slowly and unevenly. Like many city zoos of that era, it kept animals in small concrete enclosures with bars and hard floors. By the early 1980s, it had a poor reputation. National critics described it as one of the worst zoos in the country. Several animals died in troubling circumstances, and newspapers reported on the problems. Many people in Atlanta felt embarrassed. The question was simple. Should the city fix its zoo, or close it?

Atlanta chose to fix it. In the mid-1980s, management of the zoo moved to an independent nonprofit organisation, and a new leadership team set out to rebuild it almost from the ground up. The aim was to replace cages with habitats that looked and felt more like the places the animals come from. Much of what you see around you today — the planted hillsides, the moats, the hidden barriers — comes from that rebuilding. The zoo you are walking through is, in a real sense, a second zoo built on the site of the first.

The centre of that transformation was one gorilla. His name was Willie B., and he was named after a well-known Atlanta mayor, William Berry Hartsfield. The young gorilla arrived in the early 1960s. For decades, he lived alone in an indoor enclosure. He had a television for company. He did not see another member of his own species for most of his adult life.

Then, in 1988, the zoo opened a new gorilla habitat with grass, trees and open sky. Willie B. stepped outside onto real ground for the first time in many years. People who were there remember him hesitating at the door. Over time, he came to live with other gorillas, and he became a father. When he died in 2000, thousands of Atlanta residents came to remember him. For many locals, his story is the story of the zoo itself.

Here is something that surprises many visitors. Because of that history, Zoo Atlanta became known for gorillas. Today it cares for one of the largest groups of gorillas in North America. The animals live in family troops, much as they do in the wild, and some of them are descendants of Willie B. If you spend a few quiet minutes at the gorilla habitat, watch how the group behaves. Notice who sits at the centre. Notice how the younger animals check on the adults before they play.

The zoo also has a famous chapter with giant pandas. In 1999, two pandas arrived from China under a long-term conservation agreement. Over the years, several cubs were born here, including a pair of twins in 2016. These births drew large crowds and a great deal of media attention. In 2024, the pandas returned to China when the agreement came to an end. So if you remember pandas from an earlier visit, that chapter is now closed, though it shaped the zoo for a quarter of a century.

Beyond the large animals, look for the smaller worlds that many people walk past quickly. The reptile and amphibian building is dim, warm and humid inside. Glass tanks hold snakes, lizards, frogs and turtles from many parts of the world. Several of these species are endangered, and the zoo takes part in breeding and research work to help protect them. Step inside, let your eyes adjust to the low light, and look closely. Many of these animals are hard to spot at first, because their colours match the leaves and stones around them.

As you walk, pay attention to the design of the habitats. Often you will not see a fence between you and the animals. Instead, there may be a dry ditch, a stream, a change in ground level or a wall hidden behind plants. These features keep everyone safe while making the view feel open. It is a style of zoo design that became common in the late twentieth century. Here in Atlanta, it was part of the effort to show animals in a more natural setting rather than behind bars.

Zoo Atlanta today describes itself as a place for conservation, education and research, as well as recreation. Staff work with universities and with partners in other countries on animal behaviour and wildlife protection. Much of this work happens out of sight. But you can see part of it in the daily keeper talks, the information panels and the careful way the animals' days are planned, with food hidden in puzzles and objects that encourage natural behaviour.

Before you go, find a bench in the shade and simply listen again. The calls of birds, the laughter of children, the soft crunch of footsteps on the path. Think about the circus animals who arrived here in 1889, and the lonely gorilla who once watched television in a concrete room. Then look at the green hillsides around you now. As you walk back out through Grant Park, under those old trees, you are leaving a place that a city decided, once, was worth saving.