Table of Contents
- A 100-Year-Old Zoo With a Global Footprint
- Land of the Jaguar and the Big Blue Macaws
- Lazy Diplomacy: Flamingos and Galapagos Tortoises
- Beboo the Jaguar: A Panama Orphan and a Conservation Milestone
- Why They Don’t Call It a Cage
- Choice, Control, and Air Conditioning
- The Louisiana Habitat and the Cajun Cavern
- Native Snakes and a World-Class Animal Hospital
- Why the Alexandria Zoo Matters
There is a sentence Landon Proctor says within about four seconds of shaking my hand, and it reframes everything I am about to see. We are standing at the gates of the Alexandria Zoo in Rapides Parish, the sun already doing its Central Louisiana best, when the zoo’s director grins and tells me where I actually am.
“Welcome to the Alexandria Zoo, where local action becomes global conservation.” — Landon Proctor, Director, Alexandria Zoo
I will be honest with you. When I think of a zoo, the child in me thinks of a fun afternoon, a snow cone, maybe a peacock who has opinions. What I did not expect, in a city better known for its place along the Red River than for its wildlife credentials, was a more than 100-year-old zoo that other zoos across the country call for advice. But that is exactly what this place is. As Landon puts it, the Alexandria Zoo serves the whole community, from “ages zero to infinite,” and the work happening here ripples far past the parish line.
A 100-Year-Old Zoo With a Global Footprint
A zoo does not last a century by accident. The Alexandria Zoo has spent its decades quietly building something most visitors never fully clock: a collection of animals and habitats you genuinely cannot find anywhere else in the state.
The keepers here start their day at 7:30 in the morning and wrap up around four in the afternoon, and in between is a logistical ballet of feeding schedules. Some animals eat once a day, some twice, a few three times, but as a general rhythm, breakfast runs from eight to ten and the afternoon service from one to three. It is, when you think about it, a small city of residents, each one on a personalized meal plan.
And here is a fun bit of Louisiana logic: a number of the African and American animals thrive here precisely because of our infamous heat. The climate that makes us complain all summer is the same climate that lets this zoo house species that would shiver somewhere up north.
Land of the Jaguar and the Big Blue Macaws
We start in the Land of the Jaguar, the zoo’s showcase for South American wildlife, and the very first residents to stop me in my tracks are the hyacinth macaws. These are the big blue South American parrots, the ones that look like someone took the Louisiana sky and gave it a personality. The zoo has four of them.
What makes those four such a big deal is what happened this year: the team successfully bred two macaws. If you are not steeped in the zoo world, that may sound routine. It is anything but.
“Zoos from all across the country were calling us asking, how did you do this? How did you successfully breed them?” — Landon Proctor
Rather than guard their secrets, the Alexandria team did something I find deeply Louisiana: they shared. They handed out their tips and tricks to anyone who asked, in hopes of helping these important conservation birds continue to thrive in other collections. That is a small zoo in Rapides Parish quietly raising the whole field’s game.
Lazy Diplomacy: Flamingos and Galapagos Tortoises
A little farther along, I meet a pair of unlikely roommates: a flock of Chilean flamingos, a protected species, sharing space with a couple of Galapagos tortoises.
If “Galapagos tortoise” rings a recent bell, it should. These ancient creatures made national headlines over the past year when the Philadelphia Zoo’s century-old tortoises became first-time parents through their breeding program. The Alexandria Zoo’s tortoises are a comparatively spry 40 years old or so, on loan from a private collection, and they will live out the rest of their long lives right here.
I asked Landon how the flamingos and the tortoises get along, expecting at least a little interspecies side-eye. Instead, I got the best diplomatic summary I have heard all year.
“Both of them are kind of lazy, so they’re not really interested in starting any drama with each other.” — Landon Proctor
Lots of harmony at the zoo, I said. “We’re harmonious folks around here,” Landon replied. Honestly, half of Louisiana could take notes from two lazy tortoises and a flock of flamingos who simply decided not to make it weird.
Beboo the Jaguar: A Panama Orphan and a Conservation Milestone
Now to the animal that turned this charming afternoon into something I keep thinking about.
Only about 40 zoos in the entire country house jaguars, which already makes the Alexandria Zoo rare company. But Beboo, their roughly 13-year-old male, is rare even among the rare. He came from the wilds of Panama, orphaned as a baby, at a time when he was, in Landon’s unforgettable description, barely a handful.
“He was about the size of my hand when he was orphaned.” — Landon Proctor
An orphaned jaguar cub has very few good options. He could never survive in the wild after losing his mother that young, so the choice came down to finding him a home. The zoo’s general curator flew all the way to Panama, picked him up, and flew him back to Central Louisiana, where Beboo entered the United States jaguar breeding program, formally known as the Species Survival Plan.
Here is why that matters more than any single adorable cub story. Because Beboo was caught in the wild, his genetics exist nowhere else in the managed population. Every wild gene he carries is a thread of resilience that the entire North American jaguar program had been missing. And after 13 patient years, this past year, it finally paid off: Beboo became a father.
“It was global news within the zoo world. San Diego Zoo called me to congratulate us. Our friends down at Audubon Zoo called us to congratulate us.” — Landon Proctor
When the San Diego Zoo and our own Audubon Zoo are picking up the phone to congratulate Alexandria, you know something extraordinary has happened in Rapides Parish. That genetically priceless cub now lives on site, and beyond being a marvel to see, the baby gives the zoo its most powerful teaching tool: a living, breathing reason to talk to every visitor about why conservation is worth caring about.
Why They Don’t Call It a Cage
Spend any time with Landon and you notice he never uses one particular word.
“We don’t use the word cage. We say enclosure, habitat, because that’s what we’re going for. We’re trying to build them a habitat.” — Landon Proctor
That distinction is not just polite vocabulary. As we walk the grounds, what strikes me most is how thoughtfully designed the habitats are, how realistic and how genuinely comfortable they look for the animals living in them. These are wild animals, and the zoo treats them that way. The policy is strictly no contact: no touching, no petting, no hand-feeding, ever, for any animal on the property.
The goal is for the animals to feel as though they are in nature, while the people get to be respectful guests rather than the main event.
Choice, Control, and Air Conditioning
Of course, “as natural as possible” comes with a few very welcome upgrades. Behind many of the habitats are night houses and dens outfitted with heating, air conditioning, fans, treats, and enrichment. If an animal decides the Louisiana afternoon is too much, it can simply retreat to its climate-controlled bedroom and wait things out.
And if it would rather not be looked at by the public at all that day? That option is on the table too. In the zoo world, Landon tells me, this philosophy has a name.
“We call that choice and control. The animals have the choice in how much they want to participate. And if they choose not to? Too bad.” — Landon Proctor
I love that “too bad.” It is delivered with a smile, but it means something real: at the Alexandria Zoo, the animals get the final say. They have the benefits of a naturalistic habitat and the creature comforts of central air. As far as zoo living goes, that is a pretty great life.
The Louisiana Habitat and the Cajun Cavern
Then we come home, so to speak, to the Louisiana habitat, where the zoo trades the exotic for the familiar in the most immersive way.
Tucked into this section is the Cajun Cavern, a cool, shaded, cave-like respite from the sun and a nice little place to hang out and chill, for animals and overheated travel hosts alike. Throughout the Louisiana habitat, screens play short videos that pull back the curtain on zoo life: how the keepers train and care for the alligators, with the otters set to make an on-screen appearance soon.
This is the part where the zoo stops being a place you walk through and becomes a place you fall into. Landon describes the ambition plainly, and it stuck with me.
“We want you to feel lost. We want you to concentrate on what’s in front of you, and not have to worry about all the stuff going on in your day to day life. This is a place to get away.” — Landon Proctor
You will also meet some genuinely brilliant locals here, like the bobcats, who can solve puzzles and outwit just about any latch a person tries to put between them and where they want to be. Landon notes that homeowners, ranchers, and farmers sometimes consider them a nuisance for exactly that reason. I prefer to think of them as Louisiana’s furriest escape artists.
Native Snakes and a World-Class Animal Hospital
Not far on is the snake house, home to an all-native lineup that includes a strikingly beautiful Eastern diamondback. Landon’s pitch for the snakes is the same as his pitch for everything else here: see how beautiful they are up close, and you start to understand why they are worth protecting.
But the stop that quietly impressed me most was the one most visitors never see: the on-site animal hospital. Inside the exam room, the team can examine every animal on the property, and a surgery suite waits right next door. They can do dental work, X-rays, and ultrasounds, draw blood, and give vaccines, with an emergency operating room ready if a crisis comes. These animals, Landon says, have the best health care. After seeing the setup, I believe him.
It is also where the personalities really shine through. The zoo’s lioness, Landon points out, is an exceptionally large representative of her species, while her companion is a notably small male. Even the big cats here, it turns out, defy expectations.
Why the Alexandria Zoo Matters
Here is what I drove away thinking about.
It would be easy to underestimate a zoo in Central Louisiana. It would be easy to expect a pleasant afternoon and nothing more. But the Alexandria Zoo has spent more than a century building something that quietly bends the arc of global conservation: rare blue macaws bred so successfully that the whole country comes calling, a wild-caught jaguar whose genes are helping rescue his species, habitats designed around the animals’ own choices, and a hospital good enough to make a cynic soften.
Landon told me he wants visitors to feel lost here, to set down the weight of their day and simply pay attention to what is in front of them. I did exactly that. And somewhere between a handful-sized orphaned jaguar and two tortoises too laid-back to start a fight, I was reminded why Louisiana keeps surprising me. The biggest stories are so often tucked into the places we drive right past.
If you are looking for a Central Louisiana day trip that delivers far more than it promises, point your car toward Rapides Parish. Local action, global conservation, and a peacock with opinions. What more could you want?
Know a Louisiana place, person, or tradition that deserves the spotlight? I would love to hear about it. Your story just might become my next stop.
Read More:
