As the days grow longer and the sun shines, many of us feel the call of the open road. Whether it’s a weekend getaway or a simple drive through the countryside, the freedom of the open highway is irresistible. But between snack stops and stretch breaks, it’s nearly impossible not to spot fading billboards urging drivers to pull over to see “the world’s largest alligator” to “pet a bear” or to “cuddle a sloth.” These kinds of roadside displays are everywhere, and every time a family decides to stop and check one out, they’re supporting a cruel industry in which animals suffer long after visitors are back on the road.

Behind the quirky signs lies a reality that shatters the illusion of a carefree road trip. Animals in these facilities are often kept in cramped, barren enclosures with little enrichment, denied the space, social structure and natural environment they need to thrive. The quick stop that seems harmless from the highway is, for the animals inside, a lifetime sentence to confinement and misery.

These for-profit operations typically run on shoestring budgets that make proper animal care nearly impossible. Enclosures may be constructed with scrap lumber and chain-link fencing. They’re usually cramped and littered with debris. A “lucky” animal might get an old tire or a broken plastic toy to pass the interminable hours. More often, they pace on packed dirt or concrete floors smeared with feces and urine, drink from algae-filled buckets and sleep in the same space where they eat and defecate. Some roadside zoos house only a handful of animals; others cram in hundreds.

To cut costs, roadside zoos may feed animals whatever they can find — roadkill, restaurant scraps, expired meat or stale doughnuts. These inappropriate diets can lead to poor nutrition, illness, metabolic disorders or death. Expensive veterinary care may be postponed or even ignored altogether. Many rural veterinarians have little practical experience with lions, tigers and bears.

It’s little wonder that these deprivations lead many animals to develop “zoochosis”—abnormal, repetitive behaviors triggered by stress and desperation. Some bear exhibits show not only a path worn by their constant pacing but also the actual paw impressions in the dirt where they step in the same spot over and over again. Stressed birds pluck out their own feathers until they’re bleeding and bald. Primates scratch and bite their own limbs. Elephants rock and sway, trapped in a compulsive parody of motion.

But there are laws protecting captive animals, right? The federal Animal Welfare Act (AWA) requires only that animals be given enough space to stand up, lie down, turn around and move a bit. That’s it. Cages with four walls, a floor and minimal stimulation are perfectly legal. Inspections of these places routinely document that many facilities offer no substantial shelter from heat, cold or storms. Wires jut from walls, insulation hangs loose and poor drainage leaves animals standing in puddles of urine or mud. Even when roadside zoos rack up repeated AWA violations, meaningful consequences are rare.

Cold-blooded species fare even worse: The AWA doesn’t protect them at all. That means exhibitors can confine snakes to terrariums so small they can’t stretch their bodies, let alone climb or explore. Some facilities tape alligators’ mouths shut, force them into “wrestling” shows or use them as props for tourist selfies.

Roadside zoos persist because almost anyone can open one (no credentials are required), they’re lightly regulated and they’re profitable enough to survive on tourist curiosity. But travelers deserve to know what they’re supporting when they pull off the highway. And the animals trapped inside these shoddy operations deserve far better than a life spent pacing behind chain-link fencing for the sake of a few dollars and a pit stop.

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Jennifer O’Connor is a senior writer for the PETA Foundation, 501 Front St., Norfolk, VA 23510; www.PETA.org.

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