What Zoos are in Taiwan: The Oldest isn't in Wuzhi, and the Largest is More Than Just a Zoo

30-Second Overview

30-Second Overview: If you only think of Wuzhi, you will miss the truly interesting parts of Taiwan's zoos. Taiwan has only three public zoos: Taipei, Hsinchu, and Kaohsiung Shoushan; however, if you include private wildlife parks, aquariums, and marine theme parks, this map contains at least ten nodes worth remembering. Most counter-intuitively, there are two answers to "Taiwan's oldest": Taipei Zoo as an institution dates back to 1914; Hsinchu Zoo is the oldest existing zoo still operating at its original site since 1936.

A Map of Zoos Across the Island

On July 6, 2013, the Taipei City Zoo's giant panda, Yuan Zai, was born. That was not just an ordinary newborn; it was an urban event watched by all of Taiwan: queues, live streams, souvenirs, and news countdowns—even those who never visit the zoo knew that "there is a little panda in Wuzhi."

But Taiwan's zoo map does not start in Wuzhi, nor does it end there. From Yuanshan in 1914, Hsinchu Park in 1936, Xizwan in 1978, Guanxi in 1979, the seaside of Checheng in 2000, to near the Taoyuan HSR station in 2020—connecting these points forms a modern history of how Taiwanese people "view animals."

The goal of this list is not to grade every park, but to place them back into their respective roles: some are urban memories, some are tourism industries, some are marine education, and some are markets for parent-child interaction. Only by understanding these positions can we avoid calling every place that displays animals a "zoo."

When researching, the most confusing aspect is distinguishing between "park name," "institution," and "current site." Taipei Zoo has the oldest institutional age, but the familiar Wuzxi campus is actually its post-1986 site. Hsinchu Zoo does not have the oldest institution, but it is the oldest existing zoo at its original site. Shoushan Zoo also has a Xizwan period and a current Shoushan period. These differences are not trivia; they are keys to Taiwan's zoo history: when a park moves, it often represents a shift in how an entire city imagines animals, transportation, and land use.

Be careful when reading visitor numbers. Public institutions usually have annual reports or open data. Visitor numbers for private parks are often bundled into tourism industry statistics or appear only in fragments within news or investment information. Transparency itself is a clue to understanding Taiwan's zoos.

This also explains why some columns in the table do not contain pretty, complete numbers. Rather than fabricating unverifiable visitor counts, this article prefers to label them as "No full annual public data." The value of a directory is not just telling you where to go, but also telling you which data can be verified and which data must currently remain as is.

Another perspective is regulation. Taiwan currently uses the Regulations on the Management of Animal Exhibition to manage places that "display, perform, or interact with humans," so aquariums, leisure farms, and parent-child interaction centers may all fall under the same regulatory context. Culturally, however, people do not call every such place a zoo. This article adopts the classification readers actually use: public zoos, private wildlife parks, urban aquariums, and marine theme parks, while placing small farms and interactive parks in the periphery of the discussion.

The Time Gap Between the Three Public Zoos

Taipei City Zoo is the old tree of Taiwan's zoo institutions. It opened in Yuanshan in 1914 and moved to Wuzhi, Wenshan, in 1986; today, its campus is as large as 165 hectares, making it one of the top ten urban zoos in the world. When Taiwanese people say they are "going to the zoo," they are often referring to Taipei Zoo.

The most famous animals in Wuzhi are, of course, the giant pandas. Tuan Tuan and Yuan Yuan arrived in Taiwan in 2008, and their names themselves carry political connotations of "reunion." The birth of Yuan Zai in 2013 turned the zoo into a stage where cross-Strait relations, media entertainment, and urban emotion intersected. After Tuan Tuan passed away in 2022, this story was reprocessed into a multi-generational memory: he was both an animal and a testament to a time when the cross-Strait political climate had eased.

But if you only remember the pandas, you will underestimate Taipei Zoo's true role. The Taiwan Black Bear, pangolins, Formosan clouded leopards, and the Conservation Research Center are where it connects to Taiwan biodiversity hotspots. In particular, the Tropical Rainforest Pangolin House allows a nocturnal, shy, and wild-elusive native conservation animal to become a protagonist that urban children have the chance to know. The scale of Taipei Zoo is not just about its vast territory, but also the weight of being constantly required to undertake more conservation, rescue, education, and diplomatic symbolism.

Hsinchu City Zoo operates on an entirely different scale. It is only about 2.7 hectares, yet because it was established at its current site in Hsinchu Park in 1936, it has become Taiwan's "oldest existing zoo at its original site." Following a closure for renovation in 2017 and reopening as "Zoo REBORN" in 2019, the most striking change was not the introduction of more star animals, but the removal of cages from the visual center.

Hsinchu's "no cages" does not mean animals have no boundaries, but rather that boundaries are hidden within the landscape, glass, moats, and vegetation. This is why, despite its small size, it is frequently discussed by architects, landscapers, educators, and animal welfare circles. Director Yang Chia-min once said that if people just want to see exotic beasts, "they can spend money to buy them," but that is not necessarily what everyone truly wants. This statement transformed Hsincro Zoo from a small city attraction into a model for zoo reform in Taiwan.

Hsinchu's limitations are also very real: small area, concentrated crowds on weekends, and an inability to infinitely increase animal species. Its success lies not in becoming a mini-version of Wuzhi, but in acknowledging that it cannot raise everything, thus turning "less, but better care" into a city brand. This restraint is quite radical within the context of Asian zoos, which have historically preferred using star animals to attract visitors.

Shoushan Zoo brings the issue into the mountains. Founded in Xizwan in 1978, it moved to its current Shoushan site in 1986 and reopened at the end of 2022 after a closure for renovation in 2021. The new Shoushan does not follow a "flat walk through enclosures" approach; instead, it uses elevated walkways to lift visitors up, allowing them to see gibbons, black bears, capybaras, and the Kaohsiung cityscape from within the forest.

The most interesting thing about Shoushan is not any specific star animal, but that the "posture of viewing" has changed. Previously, zoos often had people standing in front of enclosures judging whether an animal was moving. The renovated Shoushan allows viewing from above, from the side, and through forest gaps; animals do not necessarily serve the visitor's gaze every second. For a popular family attraction, this is a difficult but necessary design choice.

These three public zoos happen to represent three types of Taiwanese cities: Taipei represents the capital scale, Hsincro represents urban memory, and Kaohsiung represents mountain and sea topography. Their commonality is not that they all have animals, but that they all answer the same question: how much space is a city willing to leave for non-human lives to live slowly?

Because they are public institutions, social expectations for them are higher. Ticket prices, educational functions, animal welfare, conservation results, and public transparency are not just operational metrics, but part of urban governance. The reform of Taiwan's zoos usually begins with these three visible entities.

In terms of travel feel, Taipei is like a full-day lesson in a hillside city; Hsinchu is like suddenly encountering an old era while walking through a park; Shoushan is like a trail embedded into the mountains of Kaohsiung. These differences in feeling are important because zoo memories do not only come from the animals, but also from how you arrive, your walking pace, shade, queues, lunch, and the return trip via MRT or bus. When Taiwanese people remember a zoo, they often remember an entire day.

This is also why "park area" cannot directly equal experience quality. Wuzhi is large, suitable for placing animals in a display context close to their original habitats. Hsinchu is small, which instead forces designers to choose which animals should no longer be kept. Shoushan has slopes, so it turns the viewing route into a feature. Size is not the answer; how you use that size is the answer.

For readers, this perspective also helps in planning itineraries: go to Taipei for complete displays, go to Hsinchu for renovation case studies, and go to Shoushan for forest trails; it also avoids comparing different parks with the same yardstick, which is especially useful for first-time planners.

Private Wildlife Parks and Interactive Areas

Leofoo Village is often remembered as an amusement park, but its origin was actually the Leofoo Village Wildlife Park invested in Guanxi, Hsinchu, in 1979. The official introduction is very direct: at that time, it was the only and largest free-roaming wildlife park in the country, covering seventy-three hectares. It later expanded into a theme park consisting of the American Old West, the South Pacific, Arabian Palaces, and African Villages.

Leofoo's signature is not just one type of animal, but a way of viewing: steam trains enter the herbivore area, predator buses enter the predator area, and visitors move between amusement facilities, hotels, and animal displays. The animals here are never just for educational display; they have always been part of Taiwan's tourism and leisure industry.

This hybridity makes Leofoo difficult to understand with a single label. It is not a pure zoo, nor is it an amusement park that only has roller coasters; it is an early example in Taiwan of binding the safari concept, theme parks, family travel, and resort hotels together. What you see here are not just white rhinos, zebras, or giraffes, but also the ambition of Taiwan's leisure industry as it began to scale up in the 1980s and 1990s.

The Playland Wildlife Park in Xuejia, Tainan, is another southern memory. Opened in 1994, its official description states that after thirty years, it has three hundred species and over two thousand animals, using semi-open husbandry. Today, it is most easily remembered by social media for capybaras, giraffes, alpacas, meerkats, fishing cats, and various close-up interactive experiences.

The value and risk of Playland lie in the word "closeness." It brings urban children closer to large animals, but it also makes animal welfare, feeding regulations, and interaction boundaries part of the daily on-site management. This is not the full debate that the article on [Zoo and Exhibition Animal Ethics] aims to address, but as a directory, it must at least note: the box-office charm of private parks often comes from the sense of proximity that public zoos do not provide.

The affection southern readers have for Playland is also related to the idea that "Tainan also has a zoo." It is not a capital-level institution, yet in a place like Xuejia, which is not a typical tourism core, it has maintained its zoo memory for thirty years. This locality is what distinguishes it from Wuzhi or the Aquarium.

Private parks also face a problem that public zoos encounter less frequently: they must respond more directly to the market. If capybaras become popular, interactive experiences become a promotional focus; if parent-child customers need longer stays, amusement facilities, dining, and photo spots will be tied to animal displays. These designs are not necessarily bad, but they change the role of animals within the park. Animals are not just being recognized; they are being arranged as part of a consumption process.

Aquariums are Another Main Thread

If land-based zoos tell the story of how a city accommodates animals, Taiwan's aquariums tell the story of how an island imagines the sea. The National Museum of Marine Biology and Aquarium in Checheng, Pingtung, opened in 2000, covering 96.81 hectares, with its three permanent exhibits being Taiwan Waters, Coral Kingdom, and World Waters. For many, the memory of the aquarium is not a specific star animal, but the first time looking up inside an undersea tunnel to see schools of fish swimming overhead.

The biggest difference between the Aquarium and general aquariums is that it is simultaneously a museum, a research institution, an educational site, and a tourist attraction. The reason "overnight stays at the aquarium" became a classic for Taiwanese family travel is not just because "sleeping next to fish" is a great talking point, but because it moves the ocean from textbooks to being right beside you. This thread can be read alongside [Taiwan Marine Conservation and Challenges].

The Aquarium's three exhibition halls are also very characteristic of Taiwan. Taiwan Waters covers everything from rivers and intertidal zones to nearshore waters; Coral Kingdom turns Kenting's tropical ocean into a walkable tunnel; World Waters expands the perspective to the poles, deep seas, and kelp forests. It does not just display "pretty fish," but breaks down the relationship between an island and the sea into several scales for people to see.

Xpark represents another era. It opened in 2020 near the Taoyuan HSR station, established by Yokohama Hakkeijima of Japan, and is officially called Taiwan's first "urban aquatic park," housing about 300 species and over 30,000 aquatic and terrestrial animals. Its signature includes immersive performances, the Formosa Grand Tank, penguins, and jellyfish walls; it was also an aquarium that faced scrutiny from animal protection groups and the media regarding animal care conditions immediately upon opening.

The importance of Xpark is not its beauty, but rather that it brings the question "Can an aquarium open in an urban core like a department store?" before Taiwan. It makes young people willing to buy tickets to an aquarium, and it prompts public discussion: what do lighting, sound, space, and social media photography mean for the displayed animals?

This is also the biggest difference between X_park and the Aquarium. The Aquarium is located by the sea, like a destination that requires a dedicated trip; Xpark is located next to HSR, shopping malls, hotels, and cinemas, acting as one stop in an urban consumption route. Both can provide marine education, but their conceptions of "time" are completely different: one asks you to dedicate a whole day to the sea, while the other fits the sea into a half-day itinerary.

📍 Extended Guide: If you want to use Xpark as a "penguin itinerary" to learn about species like Magellanic, African, and Little Blue penguins in the馆, please refer to Penguin Encyclopedia: Xpark Penguin Deep Dive. This article does not repeat that guide but places Xpark within the map of Taiwan's zoos.

Hualien's Far Eastern Ocean Park and New Taipei's Yehliu Ocean World are the older lines of Taiwan's marine exhibitions. Far Eastern opened in 2002, with its 51-hectare mountain-and-sea park combining dolphins, sea lions, amusement facilities, and hotels; Yehliu opened in 1981 and is an established marine world on the North Coast, still remembered by many for its marine theater and aquarium displays.

A correction is needed here regarding terminology: in Chinese colloquialism, large marine animal performances are sometimes broadly referred to as "whale and dolphin shows," or even mistakenly called "orca shows." Based on currently available public data, the core performances at Far Eastern and Yehliu should primarily feature marine mammals such as dolphins and sea lions; this article does not list "orcas" as a signature animal of any existing park in Taiwan.

Placing the Aquarium, Xpark, Far Eastern, and Yehliu in the same section does not mean they are of the same nature. The Aquarium leans toward museum and educational research, Xpark is an urban aquarium, Far Eastern is a marine theme park, and Yehliu retains the form of an old-fashioned marine theater. Together, they constitute the spectrum of "viewing marine animals" in Taiwan: from specimens, tunnels, and tanks to performances, interactions, and vacation itineraries. The more complete the spectrum, the less we can be lazy with classification.

As of April 25, 2026, the latest turning point occurred in Hualien: Far Eastern Ocean Park's dolphin show "Tidal Romance" performed its final show on April 6, 2026, with the operator stating they will transition into a dolphin protection base. While this is not the ethical theme of this article, for a directory, it marks the boundary of an era: the marine park remains, but the form of the dolphin show is exiting.

Small Parks and Farms Should Not All Be Counted as Zoos

Taiwan also has many places that are "like zoos" but should not be directly counted as such: Duck Park in Jinshan/Wanli, Chiu Liang-kung Ecological Park in Kinmen, various deer parks, capybara farms, alpaca farms, leisure farms, and pet interaction centers. They may have animal exhibition permits, or they may simply be part of local tourism or agricultural experiences.

These places are worth writing about separately because they represent the "animal contact economy" of the social media era. Animals are not necessarily placed in large enclosures but appear in cafes, grasslands, feeding experiences, photo packages, and local revitalization itineraries. They are more dispersed than public zoos and harder to verify with a single table.

They also remind us that animal display has expanded from "going to the zoo" to "where can I photograph an animal." This shift changes how operators design spaces: animals must be close to the lens, backgrounds must be clean, interactions must be reservable, and photos must be uploadable. When animals become an entry point for local tourism, management responsibilities also become more dispersed.

Therefore, this article limits its main list to institutions that are "large-scale, permanent operations, and recognizable as zoos or aquariums." This is not because small parks are unimportant, but because cramming every animal interaction site into a single list would blur the differences that truly need to be seen.

How to Read This List

Taiwan's zoos are not a straight line from backwardness to progress. Taipei moved from Yuanshan to Wuzhi; Hsinchu changed from small enclosures to habitat-style displays; Shoushan lifted visitor routes above the forest; Leofoo Village connected its wildlife park to a theme park; the Aquarium combined museums and aquariums; Xpark brought the aquarium into the HSR commercial district.

Every park leaves a different historical gesture. The older generation remembers the elephants of Hsinchu and childhood excursions to Shoushan; Gen X/Millennials remember Leofoo Village's predator buses and Playland's peacocks; the younger generation remembers Xpark's jellyfish walls, Yuan Zai's live streams, and overnight photos at the Aquarium.

These memories sometimes conflict. Some people miss animal performances, while others feel that is exactly what should exit; some believe interactive experiences make children love animals more, while others worry that interaction itself is a source of stress. A directory article does not need to pass judgment on all conflicts, but it must place those conflicts on the map so readers know that no park is a neutral backdrop.

Consequently, this list will not remain fixed forever. Dolphin shows will exit, new aquariums may open, small interactive farms may become popular local attractions, and public zoos may change their display strategies due to shifts in conservation missions. The task of a directory is not to carve a table into stone, but to organize for the reader at a given point in time: which animals Taiwan currently has, where they are placed, and in what ways they are made visible to people.

If there is one sentence to remember this article by: Taiwan does not just have a few zoos, but several ways of bringing animals into public life. Some of these methods are improving, some remain controversial, and some are simply a short trip for a local family weekend. The truly important question is not "which one is the best," but rather what we hope our children or friends will remember the next time we take them to see animals.

References

• Taipei City Wall-less Environmental Education Museum: Taipei City Zoo (Primary source)
• Taipei City Zoo 2024 Annual Report (Primary source)
• Hsinchu City Zoo: Historical Development (Primary source)
• Government Open Data Platform: Statistics on Hsinchu City Zoo Ticket Revenue and Visitor Numbers (Primary source)
• CNA: Hsinchu Zoo to Reopen at Year-end, Announces City Animal Island Visual Identity
• 天下雜誌 (Business Weekly): Hsinchu Zoo Reborn, Leaving the Cages to Humans
• Shoushan Zoo: Park Introduction (Primary source)
• Taiwan Zoo and Aquarium Association: Kaohsiung Shoushan Zoo
• UDN: Kaohsiung Shoushan Zoo Fever Subsides, Ticket Budget May Be Overstated
• Playland Wildlife Park: About Playland (Primary source)
• Leofoo Village Theme Park: About Leofoo Village (Primary source)
• Leofoo Village Theme Park: Animal Exhibition Area (Primary source)
• Xpark: What is Xpark (Primary source)
• Taipei Times: Xpark dismisses accusations of poor animal care
• National Museum of Marine Biology and Aquarium 2024 Annual Report: Aquarium Department (Primary source)
• Far Eastern Ocean Park: About the Ocean Park (Primary source)
• CNA: Far Eastern Ocean Park Dolphin Show Ends, Will Transition to Dolphin Protection Base
• Yehliu Ocean World Official Website (Primary source)
• Ministry of Agriculture Regulatory System: Regulations on the Management of Animal Exhibition (Primary source)