Pandemic has picked the pockets of zoo, aquarium, living museum

Among the many pockets picked by the pandemic: zoos, aquariums and other animal attractions — where it’s impossible to just idle the inventory and stay home.

Months of locked gates with ceaseless appetites but zero tickets sales. Reopenings hobbled by attendance caps, curtailed hours and canceled events. A public that remains crowd-wary, hesitant to head out just for entertainment.

The industry’s plight is being felt in Hampton Roads.

At the Virginia Zoo in Norfolk — where 700 animals eat more than $20,000 worth of food every month — visitor counts are down nearly 50%. Revenues are off by $2.2 million. Half the staff has been furloughed.

And what’s typically a time of plenty — spring/summer — is fading fast in the rear-view mirror.

“It hit during our very busiest season,” said Greg Bockheim, the zoo’s executive director. “During spring break, we’ll usually get 10,000-20,000 people in one week.”

Bockheim, who’s been with the zoo for 14 years, shakes his head at what’s happened.

“I look back at my meeting notes from the start of all this and reading them now is kind of amazing. We were thinking we’d have to close down for two weeks.”

Try three-plus months — from mid-March to the end of June, when state restrictions finally eased to the current Phase 3, which allows “entertainment and public amusement” establishments to open with limited guests.

For a place like the zoo, that means no more than 1,000 visitors on its 53 acres at the same time.

But in July, the first full month after reopening, the zoo was lucky to see that many over an entire day. A reservation system set up to manage admissions had a 20% no-show rate.

“I don’t know if people got nervous at the last moment or what,” Bockheim said.

Enduring the hottest July on record didn’t help.

“We’d get reservations until noon and then that fell right off, too.”

One fortunate break: Unlike some animal parks, Norfolk’s zoo is not on its own. Like the Virginia Aquarium & Marine Science Center in Virginia Beach, it enjoys significant financial backing from its city.

Norfolk supplies about half of the zoo’s $8 million annual budget, extracting a share of earnings in return. The city’s chunk is enough to cover the basics, like animal care and maintenance. Free food also supplements the grocery bill — weekly donations from Wegmans supermarket and Amazon of leftover fruits and vegetables.

“But as you can imagine, it takes a very unique array of food products to feed an exotic animal collection — like 45,000 crickets a year,” Bockheim said. “This kind of animal care is expensive.”

Dan Ashe, president of the Association of Zoos & Aquariums, which accredits 255 of the nation’s animal parks, says many of its members receive little to no government support. A handful are in such crisis they say their animals are in danger of going hungry.

Earlier this month, the North Carolina Aquarium near Morehead City drained its wishing well and scooped 14 years’ worth of coins to help pay bills, according to a post on its Facebook page.

Even among parks buoyed by a full ride from public dollars — about ¼ of the association’s members — cutbacks loom as municipal coffers shrink under the pandemic.

“We just did a survey and our members are losing $1 million per month on average,” Ashe said. “That’s a quarter of a billion dollars per month in lost revenue. It’s devastating.”

Norfolk’s latest budget shaves about $400,000 from zoo funding, but that’s subject to revisions.

In Virginia Beach, where the city typically cushions the aquarium by about $1.5 million a year, it’s too soon to know how pandemic budgets will eventually pan out, said David Bradley, deputy city manager.

Feed bills for the aquarium’s thousands of fish, reptiles, birds and mammals — 800,000 gallons of marine life alone — add up to $44,000 a month even as revenues have slumped by $3.7 million.

The aquarium’s indoor setting has been both blessing and burden. A plus for folks dodging hot or rainy weather. A negative for those trying to avoid confined spaces during a pandemic.

With nearby beaches drawing at least some tourists, headcounts have crept to about 1,600 people per day, enough to recently push closing time to 7 p.m. instead of 6.

Still, that’s about half of the aquarium’s usual number of summer guests. Two full-time positions have been eliminated and nine part-timers laid off.

Particularly at risk: The aquarium’s research and work in the wild — from turtle nest protection to the stranding team that aids beached dolphins and entangled whales, averaging 350 responses a year.

“Continuing that care is super important,” said Natalie Sims, vice president of marketing. “But it costs money” — about $570,000 last year.

The aquarium’s nonprofit arm picks up that tab, raising money through events now widely scratched. The most popular — Night at the Aquarium, an end-of-summer sleep-over for adults — is usually good for $100,000.

In Newport News, the Virginia Living Museum treads its own choppy waters.

On one hand, the Living Museum can offer it all: indoor and outdoor exhibits, including a ¾-mile, wooded boardwalk.

On the other hand: it’s an independent facility with a relatively small city stipend. Earned income makes up 70% of its budget. Most of the rest comes from grants and contributions.

After months of hardship — “no feet coming in the door” — said Executive Director Rebecca Kleinhample, the living museum’s annual budget of $4.7 million is off by $1.2 million.

Established in 1966 and home to 250 native species, the living museum usually pulls in about 300,000 guests a year. But even when it reopened last month, numbers were down 58% from the July before.

“We’ve severely tightened our belt,” Kleinhample said, from furloughing more than 40 part-timers to paring expenses like marketing.

What can’t be shortchanged:

“Excellent animal welfare,” she said.

The menu — from skunk chow to countless live meal worms — must be well maintained, along with environment, vet care, preventative medicine and emotional enrichment. That’s not only for the sake of the animals but necessary for a facility to remain accredited.

And now, money must be spent on extra cleaning, protective gear, barriers, signage and hand-sanitizer.

At the zoo, “we’re buying it by the 55-gallon barrels,” Bockheim said.

The zoo, aquarium and Living Museum are following the same pandemic playbook. All received paycheck protection loans in the first round of federal coronavirus relief. With that money long spent, they’re keeping fingers crossed for more help in future packages.

In the meantime, they’re using reservations and one-way paths to help with social distancing. Some beloved amenities remain off-limits. No train at the zoo. No touching at the aquarium’s touch-tanks. No laser shows in the living museum’s planetarium.

At the national association, Ashe said members will lean on each other.

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“If one has difficulty caring for their animals the others will rally. Food, vet care, staff, whatever they need.”

In turn, the industry is leaning on its communities.

Since early April, donors have contributed nearly $105,000 to a Living Museum relief fund .

The aquarium, also passing the hat, is pushing an email campaign to Congress, asking supporters to add their voices to a request for more help for the industry.

At the zoo, an anonymous, local benefactor has pledged $100,000 if an emergency fund can raise a matching amount. So far, $65,000 has been mustered.

“It’s been a real roller coaster,“ Bockheim said. “Quite an experience.”

Joanne Kimberlin, 757-446-2338, joanne.kimberlin@pilotonline.com