Money is great. But here’s what zoologists get that most cubicle warriors don’t: stories. You can say, “I once had a sea lion steal my lunch,” and people actually believe you. You get to name a new species of ant after your grandmother. You can legally shout, “I’m being chased by a territorial ostrich!” and call it a work expense.
Plus, the intangibles are massive. You’ll know the secret language of meerkats. You’ll have a sixth sense for when a bear is pretending to be a bush. Try putting a price on that. (The median salary, apparently, is $70,000.)
So, should you do it?
If you love animals but hate being rich, zoology is perfect. The salary won’t buy you a yacht, but it will buy you waders, a good tent, and unlimited bug spray. You won’t drive a Ferrari, but you might ride an elephant a few times—and that’s a lot cooler than a sports car.
At the end of the day, the money follows the passion. Most zoologists aren’t in it for the cash—they’re in it for the scat samples and the glorious, glorious weirdness. And if you ask me, that’s worth every cent, even the ones that smell like a penguin’s you-know-what.
