The Rescue Mission

It started like any other day. By 8 am, we were in a field in a community forest near Mandal, a sleepy little village at the base of a steep valley of the Garhwal Himalayas, India. The rays of the sun had only just begun kissing the hill tops. But my Central Himalayan Langur troops were deprived of their warmth.

To stay warm, the langurs my fellow researchers and I were studying, huddled together, sharing body heat on the forest floor. We made note of this kleptothermy – a behavioral adaptation to fight the chilling temperature — in our data sheets.

The Central Himalayan langur (Semnopithecus schistaceus) was a relatively unknown species even amid primate research. In India, langurs can be found in high Himalayan elevations (1,500-4,000 m) from Jammu & Kashmir to the peaks of Sikkim. A langur is primarily greyish in appearance with a whitish head and tail tip, with a relatively larger body size (an average of 70cm) than langurs found in other regions. In addition, female langurs are generally smaller than males. In this species, multiple males share dominion. Dominion, as we know, is usually a distinguishing variable of behavioural study in most ape and primate groups. The langur group we were following was a large one, with five adult males, 12 adult females, seven sub-adults, eight juveniles, and few infants. To observe such a large group this early into our field study was quite a privilege.

Our motive was to better understand the langurs’ behavioural ecology. This required following the troop throughout the day – from morning (when they were still resting and not active enough to study well) till the evening (when they were moving towards their resting/sleeping site for the night).

This particular morning, as the clock ticked forward and sunrays reached treetops, all our huddling langurs started moving towards the hilltop for a nice little sun bath. I don’t blame them. The cold in these parts gets bad enough to warrant a nice hike up the hill to soak up some warmth. So what if you’ve to invite the whole family? Speaking of family, some langurs in this particular troop who wished to stay in bed, stayed behind. Some others were busy feeding their young.

We had been following the langurs for a month and were fairly acquainted with their behavior. We anticipated that they would move on to some other location after having ‘breakfast’. They didn’t disappoint. As was expected, they soon started to move towards the village. Their intention was clear: to feed on the crops!

The troop travelled along the upper edge of the hill. There were hardly any houses over there. Even the villagers didn’t frequent that place often. The terrain was somewhat steep and had denser tree cover. At around 10 a.m., part of the langur troop climbed down the cliff and settled themselves in the crop field. The field provided them a cool place, a short distance from the village, helping them munch on fresh green mustard and wheat leaves. Other langurs were on their way to join in. Quite a party.

The raid

All was well in this party until, quite suddenly, a few langurs ran away. They frantically began looking for cover in high tree branches. We knew this scurrying commotion must have been a reaction to the dogs ‘employed’ by the villagers to keep the langurs at bay. Dogs generally raid silently: you’d never really see or hear them. The only way you’d know they were there would be through the frantic running of langurs in this region..

But what happened next will shock your data sheets (and socks).

Two or three dogs invaded the troop, scattering langur. They also managed to trap a few langurs in an area near the cliff. At one point, over a dozen infants and juveniles with just one or two adult females were isolated on the cliff, cornered by a dog that was determined to prevent them from moving into the crop field.

Whenever they feel threatened or isolated, non-adult langurs make a certain prolonged low pitched ‘keeee-ke-kee-ke-ke’ sounding call for rescue, and scan their immediate surroundings intensely for signs of help. Being primarily composed of younglings, the group of trapped langurs started to vocalize, shouting for help!

Almost as though straight out of a thriller, an adult male langur suddenly sprang into view. He was sitting on a high tree branch on the other side of the crop field, facing the sub-group left behind, with a second dog at his tail. He was scanning the landscape, worried, looking for a chance to join the rest of the troop, wanting to fall behind safety in numbers. Could he initiate a rescue mission?

Rescue mission – phase A

The adult male was only about a 100 meters from the cliff – not much of a distance, but with two dogs lined up in between, the langurs would need to come up with a good plan.

A second adult male appeared within a minute or so, positioning himself on a high branch of another tree to the left of the first male monkey who jumped into the picture, maintaining a little distance in between. A few other langurs were also scattered around here, where a third dog was on duty.

Back where the action was unpacking, one langur moved towards a lower branch, within possible reach of the dogs, but at a sufficient distance to maintain safety. He acted as a distraction to get the dogs away from the first langur, and to make room for an opportunity for himself – to run to the cliff like there’s no tomorrow. Without wasting another moment, langur number 1 climbed down and sprinted. He avoided the dogs brilliantly and arrived at the cliff, where other members of his family were waiting for help.

Rescue mission – phase B

Outsmarted and confused, the two dogs were now scurrying around to reconvene. But it appeared the second langur had more moves left in his master plan. He provoked the dogs again, tricking them into chasing him, eventually moving further away and out of sight. The dogs took the bait, followed him, but all we could hear, at this point, was a little bit of barking.

The first male langur, now sitting with his family, appeared quite relaxed. Indeed, he looked like he was having the time of his life. The dog that was assigned to his case, not so much. Most of the langurs in the troop were reunited. They could now wait out any threat without hurry. They kept an eye on the horizon for another opportunity to retreat under cover. For almost five minutes, nothing happened. Finally, after a couple more minutes, one of the dogs couldn’t resist the possibility of more action, and ran away towards the point where one langur was still waiting out the threat alone. This gave the troop the opportunity to run away. With a mixture of caution and speed, they sprinted towards a safe exit, and kept moving on to a much safer location. Possibly somewhere without dogs. Dogs were not the langurs’ best friends.

This article is from issue

14.2

2020 Jun

Why we can’t save the bees without changing our behaviour

It’s a commonly acknowledged fact that pollinators such as bees and butterflies are vital for food crops and ultimately, our health and well-being. But, pollinators are declining. As most conservation problems are created by humans, the solution to protecting pollinators lies in changing human behaviour. However, most behaviour change interventions for conservation often lack grounding in psychology.

In an article in Conservation Biology, Marselle et al (2020) examined EU national policies for pollinator conservation, and showed that these policies overly rely on behaviour change interventions that are known to be ineffective, and under use interventions known to be effective for changing human behaviour. This may impair the effectiveness of the policies and our ability to conserve pollinators.

Researchers found that the most frequent behaviour change intervention for pollinator conservation was

a) education (23 percent; providing information to increase knowledge or
understanding). However, education is not very effective at changing people’s conservation behaviour, as information in itself does not always guarantee action. This is because behaviour is also influenced by other factors, such as social pressure, physical opportunity, or motivation to do a behaviour.

The least frequent interventions found in the pollinator conservation actions were

b) modelling (4 percent; providing an example for people to imitate, like a role model),
c) incentivization (3 percent; creating an expectation of reward), or restriction (2 percent; using rules to reduce opportunity to engage in the favourable behaviour or the behaviour that is being targeted to achieve), and
d) coercion— designing interventions to create an expectation of punishment or increased cost to discourage behaviour – was not mentioned in any of the pollinator policies.

However, these three types of interventions have been found to be highly effective for changing people’s conservation behaviour.

Importantly, 41 percent of all pollinator conservation actions failed to identify who needed to change their behaviour! This lack of detail is likely to weaken the actionability of behaviour change interventions.

This study points to the importance of considering psychology when designing conservation policies in order to be more effective—otherwise, we will continue to lose our bees and butterflies.

This article is from issue

14.2

2020 Jun

Why we need fresh water – and also what lives in it

Freshwater ecosystems have two important features. First, they are surrounded by land and very strongly embedded in terrestrial ecosystems. Second, they generally face strong human interaction, stronger than the high seas. These mean that we can utilize them in many ways. It also means that they are important for the rest of the biosphere in many ways. Being socio-ecological systems that interconnect distant areas and offer multiple ecosystem services, the conservation of freshwater bodies is full of
compromise.

A lake, a river or a pond has clear borders. In a sense, these are island-like locations, isolated in terrestrial landscapes. Yet, in a functional sense, the ecological processes in freshwater communities quite strongly link them to the surrounding terrestrial systems. In fact, the size proportion of coastal areas is much larger than in the sea and these riparian habitats host a huge diversity of organisms.

Instead of creating better and more accurate definitions, and trying to conceptually separate freshwater bodies from the terrestrial world (see the traditions of limnology or hydrobiology), it would be wiser to explicitly study their soft borders and recognize the importance of the cross-disciplinary grey zones between water and land.

Freshwater ecosystems and their networks

Whenever several components are linked and we wish to understand the consequences of these connections, network analysis is a good first step.

Freshwater ecosystems are parts of two kinds of networks:
a) The habitat network, where water bodies are linked to each other across landscape ecology.
b) The food web, containing clearly aquatic, clearly terrestrial and shared components (either living organisms or nutrient flows).


The freshwater habitat network, at the first glance, is a continuous system of wet habitats, creeks turning to rivers and lakes. The continuity is not absolutely necessary (e.g. tarns). But materials and organisms can also jump between wet locations. For example, transported by water birds, travelling either on their legs or in their guts. This is one reason why rivers should not be regarded as perfectly directed systems. Organisms clearly travel in both directions, either in the air or in the water. Moreover, clearly, several aquatic organisms can survive on land. So they are simply able to move across the dry matrix (i.e. amphibians, snakes). In order to better understand the conservation challenges for freshwater ecosystems and aquatic organisms, it is crucial to better monitor, model and really assess these processes and spatial aspects. It does make a big difference to be really isolated or just embedded in a heterogeneous and
mixed landscape.

Freshwater ecosystems, just like any other, have no clear borders. The fish and the mole have really poorly overlapping habitats, but even they can be indirectly interacting across a chain of other organisms. Several studies have shown surprisingly strong interactions between aquatic and terrestrial species. These are cascading and, after all, the aquatic food web and the terrestrial one are just two compartments of the big one. In fact, this recognition was one of the motivations for creating landscape ecology. Apart from the geographical one, this was its functional raison d’être. Researchers have shown how trophic cascades across the water-land boundary: predatory fish reduced the amount of dragonfly larvae, less adult dragonflies consumed less pollinator insects, and terrestrial plants were less pollen-limited and flourished. The myriads of cascades like these connect the two officially totally different habitats and, given the diversity of riparian communities, this is more the rule than the exception.

For people interested in categorical thinking and classification, landscape ecology and all processes inter-connecting different systems are disturbing.
For people who prefer to think functionally, this is ecology – and not surprising at all.

Positive and negative, as well as strong and weak effects are spreading in these interconnected networks. Perturbations (e.g. invasion, pollution) generate point-like or system-wise effects. In order to monitor, assess or predict these, one can perform modelling efforts. Better understanding their complementary nature will only help to make ecosystem models really predictive and applicable.

Extinction and invasion are often considered as two major symptoms of climate change, two major dangers for natural ecosystems. Global extinction is clearly a tragic loss. Local extinction and invasion are mechanisms of compositional shifts in any ecosystem and, ultimately, these are the ways in which ecosystems adapt to altered conditions. In a sense,
these are not the problem, but the solution.

As a key ecosystem service from a human perspective, the healthy functioning of the whole, spatially and functionally interconnected system is crucial for water quality. The cycling of nitrogen and phosphorus strongly influences algal production and the composition of the aquatic microbiome is strongly sensitive to water chemistry and affects several higher-level organisms. Overall, the whole food web (or trophic network) is a stage where key players act, either facing the challenges or buffering and balancing external effects. But, after all this, what is external. This is the question.

This article is from issue

14.2

2020 Jun

Don’t look at me in that tone of voice

So, one Sunday afternoon, I go to the bull-fight and they put me in the bullring. The bull comes out. I look at the bull and the bull, he look at me. He look at me, and I look at the bull. And you know what, the bull was better looking than me.’ -Juan Cervantes, Mind Your Language, 1978.

We’ve been mulling over our recent posts with a seed of doubt in our minds. We cannot help but notice that our writings may have aggravated animal rights activists, castigated compassionate conservationists, and berated vegans and plant lovers. To our critics, we clearly voice irrational arguments and cross-eyed views of the world.

So we’ve tried a thought experiment. We have simply asked: ‘What if they are right?’

Well, then, every animal must be given its due. Each one is a product of hundreds of millions of years of evolution on Earth. The history that each individual carries in its DNA, the carefully selected genes of the blind watchmaker, the memories of each moment of its personal journey must be celebrated, revered, venerated.

But what, practically, must follow from such sentiments? Perhaps the most important point is that it means that we must respect each animal not from our narrow anthropomorphic, anthropocentric perspective, but from the view of animal itself, of nature herself, of the watchmaker her/himself. And this in turn means that we must dig deeper into our engagements with the animal world, and rip out the very roots of these abusive relationships. This leads to a few inescapable conclusions, a trilogy of four to be precise.

First, no wildlife watching. Quite simply, wild animals don’t like to be looked at. For most vertebrates, direct eye contact is a sign of aggression. Their motto is ‘Don’t be looking at me that way. In fact, don’t look at me at all’. And even in the absence of actual eye contact, being closely observed by a human (or worse, a flock of them) is almost a clear signal of predatory intent. Thus begins the physiological domino. It starts so simply, each line of the programme creating a new effect, just like poetry. First, a rush… heat… her heart flutters.1 And as the cocktail of chemicals floods the system, lion or lizard, fish or flamingo, she runs. All this stress from one little self-indulgent, greedy glance.

So, unless one is planning a romantic moonlight dinner, people should not look at wild animals at all. No more wildlife voyeurism, no bird-watching, not a single dive to scare sleeping parrotfish.

Second, no more domestic animals (with the exception of cats, who quietly decided that the comforts of domestication were suited to them). After all, they did not exactly ask to be domesticated. Of course, the only one who truly embraced the consequences of domestication was the cow at the restaurant at the end of the universe, which approached Zaphod Beeblebrox’s table ‘a large fat meaty quadruped of the bovine type with large watery eyes, small horns and what might almost have been an ingratiating smile on its lips.’

“Good evening,” it lowed and sat back heavily on its haunches, “I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in the parts of my body?”’

Chickens get no evolutionary love from laying unfertilized eggs, nor can cows fatten their calves with dairy products. We should release them all into the wild, and allow them the unbridled joy of the wild’s consequences.

And no domestic animals also means, by the way, no pets. No self-respecting animal wants to be reduced to an emotional appendage. Caged and cuddled alike, every animal aspires to be master of its own destiny. As brief and bloody as it might be. Set them free, we say. Let cats run wild and decimate bird and lizard populations around the world, even more than they do now. Let packs of dogs roam our streets and pick off the cats, and the occasional child. Let hamsters….

Finally, why stop at animals? We must also free plants. Gardens are basically glorified factories, exploiting sentient life forms for their colour, scent and form. Plants are pruned mercilessly without the remotest jot of participation, or prior-informed consent. No gardener has ever, not ever, used the word ‘holiday’ to her geraniums. Enough, we say, enough.

Fifth and mostly harmless, alien life forms. We wish to leave no stone unturned in our efforts to minimize human impact on life everywhere. Should there be an invasion by universe conquering computer geeks , every carbon-based multicellular life form must be received with the same respect and treated with dignity, regardless of their intentions. We do have to draw the line somewhere. Unicellular organisms and life forms based on other elements – Silicon’s campaign notwithstanding – simply do not cut it.

Nuff said.

This article is from issue

14.3

2020 Sep

Night and Day in the Rainforest

The sun was setting in a rainforest in Costa Rica. Parrots were squawking as they flew home to sleep for the night.

A young coati named Pizotito was not sleepy, as he explained to his mother.

Coatis sleep at night in the trees.

After his family was asleep, Pizotito climbed down the tree to explore the forest.

He was surprised to meet an animal he had never seen before.

Pacas are nocturnal. They sleep during the day and are awake at night.

Paquita took Pizotito to meet some of her friends in the frog swamp.

Who else do Pizotito and Paquita meet in the rainforest?

Read the rest of the story, NIGHT AND DAY IN THE RAINFOREST, to find out at this link:
https://issuu.com/foreststories/docs/night_and_day

This article is from issue

12.3

2018 Sep

Woolly’s Wonderful Wings

Woolly took off towards the woods, and in the golden evening light, he found them, fluttering around the trees and calling to each other.

“I’ve seen you! I’ve found you all!” laughed one moth in the middle.

“Ooh, who are you?” she asked as she caught sight of Woolly.

“Hello! My name’s Woolly. It’s my first day as a moth, and I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do. What are you up to?”

“We’re just playing hide and seek here until it gets dark enough to go out. Do you want to play too?”

Of course, Woolly wanted to play. Maybe his troubles were over, now that he’d found this little group of moths.

“I’ll be the seeker this time,” he decided and closed his eyes to let the others hide.

They were all sorts of patterns, speckled or striped, in a multitude of shades of brown and grey and white. Once they landed on the trees and bushes, they just disappeared, and it took Woolly an awfully long time to find them again. Yet when it was his turn to hide, he was always the first to be spotted.

Copying the other moths, he hid on tree bark and in the long grass. He hid behind stones and under leaves, but still, they had no trouble finding him.

“You’re all so good at this,” he sighed. “I’m useless!”

“You’re quite hard to see from far away,” they tried to console him. “But close up, those little red patches on your face always give you away. Maybe this isn’t the right game for you.”

They were trying to be nice, but Woolly could tell they didn’t want to play with him anymore. It really was hard to make friends out here.

He fluttered away from the other moths and settled on a fallen leaf. What should he do next? Where should he go?

These are just a few pages from a longer story, which can be found at the following link https://issuu.com/universityofexeter/docs/woollybook_29thjune.compressed

To buy a hard copy, email: woollyswings@gmail.com

This article is from issue

12.1

2018 Mar

Of Hunting Harriers and Harrier Hunting

The first streaks of dawn would usher in our “hunt” – to walk through grasslands to spot the Montagu’s and Pallid harriers – migratory birds of prey. By September, the summer home of the harriers, in Kazakhstan and Central Asia turns bitterly cold and gets covered with snow, leaving them with few options for finding food, such as voles, insects, and small birds. Thus, they begin an arduous migration, which will take them skimming over lofty mountains in Central Asia, over sandy and deserted dunes in Afghanistan, and into many parts of India. They arrive between September and November, to find food amidst the lush green grass and crops.

Each morning during the months that the harriers are in India, Ganesh and I walk the trails, trying to spot and count the harriers. This is like running through the attendance register at school: we want to know how many harriers have turned up, each day, and across the season. A reduction in their number can tell us if something may have changed in the grasslands, such as the availability of their food.

A gliding, elegant blue-grey harrier makes a beautiful sight and is more refreshing than our morning cups of coffee! Many harriers sport red-brown feathers, meaning they are young birds. Imagine a 4-month old bird flying over the mountains and deserts to meet you and me here in India!

Once here, the harriers fly low over the ground, barely a few feet above the grass, unlike eagles that scan for prey from high above. We watch them eagerly, as they perform various acrobatic flights to corner their prey, finally pouncing on a large grasshopper or small bird. Having caught a meal, the harrier then flies to a small open patch on the ground to prevent its prey from escaping, and dissects it carefully, consuming only the most nutritious parts. We also take a keen interest in their prey, noting down how many of each type are available in the grasslands, as this will tell us whether the harriers’ food has dwindled, changed, or increased. Remember, these harriers come from thousands of kilometers away in search of food, in these fast-disappearing grasslands in India. And the grasslands and savannahs are not only important for the harriers. They are also home to various wild grasses, wolves, foxes, and unique birds, and provide pasture to goats, sheep, and cattle.

An afternoon nap for the harriers in the shade suggests that we take one too since the grasslands are located in extremely hot and dry areas of the country: around the deserts of Rajasthan, in the grasslands of Gujarat, and on the Deccan plateau all the way into Southern Tamil Nadu. After lunch and a cup of tea, we head off to the grassland once again to a small patch called a harrier roost. A roost is an interesting place – a patch of tall grass, which the harriers hustle into each evening to make their bed. They trample the soft grass into a cup and form a cozy bed just like you and I wrap ourselves in blankets. This is a safe haven for them each night, to guard themselves against large owls, foxes, and jungle cats that might prey on them. Here, they spit out small pellets. These pellets contain undigested feathers, hair, bones, and insect body parts from their food, which are a precious resource for us. We collect them to observe under the microscope later, to find out what they have eaten. Pellets can tell us more about how these harriers survive in harsh weather, and how they change their diet as the grass starts to dry out and the grasshoppers become fewer in number!

From the gliding and feeding frenzy through the morning and afternoon, it has been a long day for the harriers. It is time to rest, and just like a crowd gathering in a cafe of an evening, the harriers can be seen flocking at their favourite mound or in a bare patch close to their roost. They perch silently, sometimes inviting others flying by with a shriek, sometimes fighting for a place, and preen their ruffled feathers before sleep. They also offer other harriers a clue to the site of their ‘camp,’ by flying in short circles over their roost. As the sun sets, they drop into the grass ever so quietly but remain alert enough to fly off on sensing danger. It’s a day’s story that recurs throughout the winter months, weaving the pattern of the seasons. As the green grass takes on golden brown hues with the onset of summer in March, the harriers start to turn back, to resume their migratory journey beyond the mountains and deserts.

Fun facts

There are 16 species of harriers belonging to the genus Circus distributed worldwide, out of which 6 species visit India each winter. These are the Montagu’s harrier (Circus pygargus), Pallid harrier (Circus macrourus), Eurasian Marsh harrier (Circus aeruginosus), Pied Harrier (Circus melanoleucos), Hen harrier (Circus cyaneus) and the Eastern Marsh harrier (Circus spilonotus).

Etymology – The name “harrier” may have come from an old English term “hergian” meaning to harass by hostile attacks. The scientific name “Circus” may have come from the Greek work “kirkos” meaning to fly around in circles.

Bright and cryptic colors – The males of most harriers are a bright grey in colour, while the females and young harriers sport a subtler mix of brown, white, and red-brown plumage.

Habitat – The Montagu’s, Pallid, and Hen harriers inhabit dry grasslands and savannahs in arid and semi-arid areas, while Marsh harriers inhabit wetlands and marshes. Harriers need grass – Harriers, unlike other large birds of prey, nest and roost on the ground in tall and dense grass.

Migration – Harriers migrate over a distance of 5000 km each winter, from Central Asia into India, or from parts of Europe into Africa! They may follow one route to reach their destination and another to fly back to their breeding grounds.

A spectacle – Harrier roosts in Gujarat (in the Blackbuck National Park, in Velavadhar) can contain an astounding 1200 birds by September-October each year! They can be seen flying around in circles in unison in the late evenings.

Swoop-snatch – Harriers are adept at snatching their prey in mid-air after they flush them with their swooping flight.

Voracious appetite – From a brief survey of harriers in Velavadhar (Gujarat), the flock of harriers in Velavadhar alone was estimated to consume between 2 and 2.5 million locusts during a single winter in India.

A varied menu – Harriers consume a wide variety of prey, including grasshoppers, small birds, small lizards (Sitana species), and small rodents.

Living together – Harriers form communal roosts that include more than one species of harrier. Roosting is preceded by spurts of flying around in circles before diving into the grass.

A web of life – Harriers share the grasslands with other unique and endemic fauna, such as the blackbuck, the wolf, the florican, and the critically endangered Indian bustard.

Ornaments – Scientists have used small numbered metal rings, placed on the legs of individual harriers, to track their movement patterns. You can learn more about some of the birds we have ringed here:
https://harrierwatch.com/wp/index.php/report-your-sightings/

This article is from issue

12.1

2018 Mar

Meeting a community ecologist

Invertebrates amaze me. Animals without a backbone make up the majority of species on earth. Mostly we humans will admire the pretty ones, try to get rid of the annoying or dangerous ones, and hardly notice the rest. But once you start looking at them, especially under a microscope, the beauty and diversity is delightful. That’s when you start looking for them.

The first invertebrates I encountered as a child were the dead cockroaches I would collect off the kitchen floor after my parents had put poison down, the ants I would tease by directing where they could walk and the snails I would make houses for in the garden. Then came my big revelation. A trip to the woods with the “Museum Club” showed me that invertebrates, and all of nature, could be studied.

I became a community ecologist so I could understand why species occur where they do and how they interact with each other. Invertebrates are the perfect study animals for this. I can examine interactions between predators and prey, between animals that help each other, or those that compete against each other, all in a handful of leaf litter. I have been doing just that in my current research project to understand what speeds up the decomposition (or breakdown) of leaf litter and the release of nutrients for plant growth.

A few years ago I set up a litter bag experiment at two forest sites in New Zealand: Hauturu-oToi, an offshore island, and the Waitakere Ranges on the mainland. Litterbags are the method I use to understand how invertebrates influence leaf litter decomposition. I simply put a net bag containing a certain amount of leaf litter out in the forest. Several months later I collect the bag. Back at the lab, I measure how much the leaves have decomposed and then count the invertebrates which have found their way into the bags. These are the invertebrates that have influenced decomposition, directly or indirectly.

Days in the field are wonderful. My litter bags are located randomly through the bush and are usually reached by ‘bush-bashing’ or off-track navigation using a GPS.

I love picking my way through the dense tangle of trees, shrubs, climbers, and grasses, scrambling up and down steep slopes, wading across streams, and emerging into an occasional clearing or high point to feel the breeze and hear the not-so-distant sea. On Hauturu, birds and their song are an enchanting distraction. Near one of my plots, there is a tall Kauri tree that emerges above the forest canopy and my collections and measurements there are often accompanied by the haunting “Ko-ka-ko” call of the Kokako bird. Not so in the Waitakere Ranges though, where the unnerving silence of the bush is a reminder of the damage done to New Zealand’s native birds by invasive rats.

Time back in the lab can be just as exciting. The quality and diversity of the leaf litter itself impact how fast leaves decompose and the community of invertebrates that live in it. Identifying the hundreds of species of invertebrates from the litter bags has shown that a diverse community of invertebrates is more important for decomposition than any one species or group (even though some groups, such as amphipods, can really eat through the litter). I’m now using lab techniques to look at the feeding and genetic relationships between invertebrate species in the litterbags. I hope this can tell me how it is that diverse communities decompose litter faster, and what keeps those communities diverse.

Fun facts

A handful of leaf litter may look like just a collection of dead leaves with the occasional millipede, centipede, woodlouse, or earthworm visible, but hidden from view at a micro-level is an astonishing diversity of tiny invertebrates. Here are some fun facts about just a few of them. All of the species shown here are under 2 mm.

Springtails (Collembola) are so-called because they possess a spring or forked structure on the underside of their bodies used for jumping when the animal senses danger. It is usually held against the body, but if a predator is detected nearby, the spring is released sending the springtail flying out of harm’s way. These animals are very abundant in leaf litter and soil. They eat dead leaves and the bacteria and fungi that live in the leaf litter. Their poo provides food for micro-organisms that do most of the decomposition and springtails are also an important prey item for lots of litter invertebrates.

Mites (Acari)

Mites are the most numerous invertebrates living in the leaf litter and among the smallest. There are many groups that perform different roles in the food web. Here are just three of them:

The Oribatid mites are distinctive because most adults are very smooth, with a hard exoskeleton or outer body surface, making them difficult for predators to catch and eat. This is just as well since they are also slow-moving creatures, with slow development. They can take up to seven years to grow from eggs and larvae to nymphs and adults. Oribatid mites mostly feed on decaying leaves and fungi and are important decomposers.

In contrast, the Mesostigmatid mites are active predators, searching through the leaves and soil pores to find small invertebrates including Collembolans, softer-bodied mites, and mite nymphs. Rather than eating their prey whole, they inject digestive fluids into their prey and then suck up the dissolved tissues.

Prostigmatid mites are more likely to be an ambush or sit-and-wait predators. Some have developed ingenious ways to catch their prey. For example, the Bellidae or Snout mites produce strands of sticky silk from glands in their mouth to entangle their prey and stop them from escaping.

Beetles (Coleoptera)
Hidden in the leaf litter are a diverse subfamily of tiny beetles called the Pselaphinae, pronounced sel-a-feen-eh. These specialised predators eat mostly collembolans and mites. Living in the leaf litter, they are not visual hunters but use the hundreds of hairs on the tip of their antennae to detect prey using smell and touch. Their touch can be so delicate they do not trigger the escape response in Collembola. Many species will grab hold of their prey using sticky structures on their maxillary palps (one of several mouthparts) and a sticky substance they produce.

This article is from issue

11.4

2017 Dec

“T” for Tuber and Tubers for Tea

Lakshmi Siddi lives deep in the thick, evergreen forests of the Western Ghats of India, in a region called the Malnad. Her home is located on a little lip of land sticking out of a forested slope. She and her family have an orchard and kitchen garden that they tend. A stream flows by at the bottom of her land, where her son and his friends often go to catch fish using bamboo traps. This is an idyllic setting, but tough since you have to hike many kilometres to get to the nearest bus stop to go anywhere. When the monsoon rain comes lashing down, you also have to deal with blood-sucking leeches.

Hardly any sunlight reaches Lakshmi’s forest food garden and she cannot grow the usual range of vegetables that need a lot of direct sunshine. But she does have some hidden treasures in there that live and grow underground. They make it from her garden to her kitchen, becoming part of the delicious foods that Lakshmi cooks and loves to serve her family and friends. These underground denizens are tubers which are an important part of the local cuisine.

Tubers thrive in the shade, are very hardy, and are both tasty and nutritious. There is a huge diversity of tubers and they come in a variety of shapes and sizes.

When tubers are mentioned, many of us only think of potatoes and stop there. The truth is that we have more native tubers in India than we might have ever imagined. Each of them is special and can be made into countless dishes. Move over potato chips and aloo gobi. Enter with pride tuber biryani, tuber sambar, tuber sabzi, chutney and puran poli, tuber raitha, papad, pickle, and chips. Even tuber ice cream!

If you want to get totally tubered, consider Taro (Colocasia or Arbi) of which at least 10 varieties grow where Lakshmi lives, Elephant Foot Yam (Amorphophallus species), Tapioca, Sweet Potato, wild Arrowroot, Turmeric, and Ginger. And these are just some of the possibilities. Tubers provide generously too. Some yams, for example, may look like a simple, little plant above ground, but this could be just the visible part of a huge, 6-foot long underground giant, branching out in all directions, almost like octopus arms!

In a bid to make tubers more popular and people aware of their goodness, Lakshmi and her friend Renuka recently carried two sackfuls to the city of Bengaluru. They participated in seed and food festival there called the Malnad Mela. They had a splendid time with visitors, who learned all they could from these mistresses of tubers. Lakshmi and Renuka felt it was important for them to make people see that tubers are an important food source for the present and future. They were eager to help people remember again a forgotten food and to encourage them to put it back on their menus. When the women did a tally of their earnings, they had made Rs. 11,000 in two days. A well-deserved, handsome amount for providing wholesome, down-to-earth goodness and wisdom to people before it is lost forever.

In this age of climate change, unpredictable rains, and environmental uncertainties, tubers could provide a vital solution to food crises. The value of tubers is so high that there is even a separate institution of scientists dedicated to discovering more about them — the Central Tuber Crop Research Institute in Kerala.

So, the next time you are near a sabziwallah or the market, do look for these marvellous vegetables and try them out at home. You and your family may be in for some nice surprises.

In the meanwhile, in Lakshmi’s part of the planet, where the forests and rivers are still healthy and human communities are closely connected to nature, tigers occasionally roam where tubers dare to grow!

Lakshmi Siddi’s Arbi YumYum

“I am not sure how old this recipe is, where it came from or how it survived this long.
I do know though that generations of children and grandchildren have enjoyed this
dish. I hope the kids reading this try it out for themselves and tell us their experience.”

Lakshmi

Traditional version

• Roast the tubers on live coals so they get cooked from the inside and the outer charred skin easily comes off.
• Add salt and tamarind
• Add pepper or chilly powder (optional)
Enjoy!

Note: Roasting preserves the nutrition and tastes better than boiling the tubers and throwing away the water. Tamarind helps break down the calcium oxalate crystals in arbhi that cause your throat to itch.

Present version

• Boil the arbi in water
• Drain and peel
• Shallow fry till roasted and crisp in some oil and add salt, pepper/chilly powder, and tamarind to taste.
• Some people add turmeric, jeera, and coriander seed powder too.

Lakshmi says that arbi makes delicious bondas when dipped in a chickpea four (besan) batter to which salt, chilly powder, tamarind, and other spices have been added.

Wanted: Tuber Chefs

Have a tuber recipe to share? Send it to us and you may find yourself starring in a Tuber Cook Book that is being created by Lakshmi and her friends. All selected contributors will get a copy of the Tuber Recipe booklet when it comes out! Please do give us the name of the tuber and exactly how you cook it when writing in.

Tubers Tid-bits

  • People forage for tubers in the wild or grow them in gardens. Tubers can even be grown in pots in an urban home and need little care.
  • For the amount of energy required in planting and caring for the tuber, the yield is high and far surpasses what we get with many other regular crops. 
  • Tubers don’t need synthetic fertilisers or pesticides to grow. 
  • Tubers are not afraid of drought. They will stay quietly underground when conditions are harsh, and go about their business of growing and providing when the time is right. 
  • Tubers also lend themselves to a variety of traditional and modern foods across the Indian sub-continent and the world over. A tuber cook book would cover a wide range of dishes and run into hundreds of recipes!
  • Tubers have medicinal value too that older members of agricultural and forest communities know about. For instance, arrowroot tubers are harvested, dried, powdered and used as baby food or for convalescents. Arrowroot powder is also used to relieve diarrhoea and dysentery while Elephant Foot Yam is eaten to treat piles.

The Tale of Tapioca:

  • Tapioca (Cassava) is originally from South America
  • In the Malnad, the local name for Tapioca is Baragala Genasu —  the drought tuber.
  • It certainly lives up to its name, growing fiercely where other plants have difficulty or just die. 
  • During World War II, the Maharajah of Travancore promoted the growing of Tapioca to tide people over food shortages in his kingdom. 
  • Soon it became integrated into the cuisine there and Kappa (Tapioca) and fish curry became an important part of the local diet. 
  • Tapioca is still a popular plant grown in many home gardens of Kerala.
This article is from issue

11.3

2017 Sep

Flowers at the Roof of the World – The plant at the heart of Himalayan life

When I am at my study site, every day begins with a wake-up alarm call at 4.45 AM. I sneak a quick look outside the window and observe the sky to plan for my day’s work. A clear blue sky suggests an exciting day ahead. I work in Kyongnosla Alpine Sanctuary, between 3200m and 4200m above sea level. This high elevation region in Sikkim is home to many flowering plants, among them the colourful Rhododendrons that are world-famous for their stunningly beautiful flowers.

These trees are not only a visual extravaganza, a resource for the heart and soul, but they also provide the physical resources equally vital for life. They are the cover for many wild animals such as goral, Himalayan black bear, red fox, yellow-throated martin, red panda, and the iconic snow leopard. They provide nectar and pollen to many birds
and several tiny insects. One can also see pika (a small rodent resembling a rabbit), musk deer, and other ungulates
feeding on the Rhododendron flowers. In addition, the leaves and flowers of some Rhododendrons are used for making
incense and wine. Supporting so many life forms, as well as the local economy, no wonder they are called the “tree of
souls” of this region. In my research, I study 10 Rhododendron species. I am especially interested in understanding the timings of events such as budding, flowering, and fruiting of these plants and the role played by climate and pollinators
in those events. I record the dates when the Rhododendrons produce buds and flowers, and then later I record the dates when they produce fruits and seeds. I also observe the pollinators of various shapes and sizes who come to
visit the Rhododendron flowers.

The flowering of Rhododendrons in Kyongnosla starts during early May when the temperature rises, melting the snow cover in this region. I start my daily trek with my field assistant, Sonam, at 5:10 AM and reach the closest field site in an hour. When the ground is under nearly 2 to 3 feet of snow it is impossible to recognize the usual trails. That is when Sonam’s advice to observe the footprints of wild animals, and especially of the Himalayan black bear, comes in handy. Yes, bears always help us discover the right path there and back! As we climb higher into the mountains we are welcomed by cold winds, and freezing weather. As the temperature starts dropping, our fingers become numb, making it tough to enter observations in our notebooks. However, Sonam always has suggestions to survive in the chilly weather. He knows the location of caves and other warm areas inside the forest, and we light a fire with dry leaves, even though it barely lasts for a few minutes. But in spite of this harsh weather, we are among the lucky few who can enjoy the breathtaking views of the valleys full of flowers and the clear blue sky, surrounded by the third highest peak in the world.

The climbing, altitude, and cold all mean that this can be hungry work. And just like us, plants need food to survive here too. Their food is in the form of rainwater, sunlight, and nutrients from the soil. But unlike us, plants cannot move in search of food or favourable conditions. So they wait for the time when the conditions are right for them to grow and produce leaves and flowers. Before they can produce seeds, most plants must first be pollinated. This means that they must have pollen from other flowers of the same plant as well as other individuals of a similar plant type delivered to them by more mobile species. In the case of Rhododendrons, birds act as pollinators at lower elevations, where it is slightly warmer, while insects such as bumblebees pollinate Rhododendrons that grow higher up, near the mountaintops. This is because many birds cannot withstand the very cold temperatures that bumblebees can. These bees have hairy bodies, which helps them cope with the extreme cold temperatures.

I am finding that temperature is the main thing that determines the flowering time of Rhododendrons. Rhododendrons wait for the right temperature conditions before they flower. This starts around May at lower elevations and can be as late as June as you go higher up the mountains. This is also the time when the numbers of pollinators, such as birds and bees, are greatest.

These plants are highly adapted to the extremes of their mountain home. In fact, if conditions were to get ‘easier’, this could actually cause them problems. For example, if temperatures increase with climate change, then these Rhododendrons might start to flower earlier. If that happens they might not meet their pollinators. If plants and pollinators are out of sync, then both suffer. This could have important implications!

The future for the species that live in this high-altitude world is uncertain and we still have a lot to learn. I hope that through my work I may be able to uncover some of the mysteries of life at the heart of this mountain realm.

This article is from issue

11.3

2017 Sep

The Coral Diver: A day in the life of a marine biologist

I live on a small island called Havelock, in the Andamans, and I work in a SCUBA diving school for a living. Using my background in marine biology, I conduct research on coral reefs around Havelock and take people out diving to introduce them to some of the many living jewels of the sea.

Corals are colourful animals, related to jellyfish, that slowly but carefully build the limestone structures that form reefs, on which a diversity of other marine life thrives.

A majority of the corals around the Andaman Islands died in one dramatic episode in 2010, in a phenomenon called “mass bleaching”. This also happened to other corals in the Indian and Pacific oceans. We know that corals were bleached and killed at that time due to the warming of the oceans and increasing carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. What we do not fully know yet is: How are coral reefs recovering? And why are some reefs recovering faster and others slower?

Through my research around Havelock, I am trying to answer these questions. I survey damaged coral reefs to study how much new coral is growing back, and what species these are. I also try to find out whether there are any factors that might prevent coral from recovering smoothly.

Preparing for a day of fieldwork diving is very similar to getting ready for a day in the forest, except that my dive buddy and I load up a boat instead of a jeep! We wear neoprene wetsuits beforehand but set up our SCUBA gear and research equipment on the boat. We never forget to carry food, water, and emergency medical kits.

Using a handheld GPS, we navigate to a mooring line above our dive site, Minerva. Once anchored, my dive buddy and I help each other carefully put on our SCUBA gear. Before jumping into the water, we split the load of all the research tools that need to be taken so that our descent to the bottom is smooth. We want to avoid having a camera floating up this way or a measuring tape sinking down that way!

Once at the bottom there is no time to waste because our full tank of air will allow us a dive time of one hour at most. My buddy gets to work, reeling out the 30-meter long tape over the reef that we are surveying. I place a 1-meter square frame, called a quadrat, over the coral. Then hover above it to photograph the coral—and everything else—that lies within the outlines of the square frame. With the tape to guide me, I collect this photographic data every ten meters along with the measuring tape. We survey several such transects to make sure we have sufficiently covered the dive site.

In the last ten minutes of the dive, we swim over and check on the data loggers we had previously placed at Minerva. These loggers have sensors that automatically measure temperature and light intensity underwater for months on end, and the data loggers store all that information. We regularly visit them, with a toothbrush in hand, to scrub off sand and algae that settle on the sensors and interfere with their working properly.

Within an hour of finishing our dive, we are back on land, rinsing off the salt from our SCUBA and research tools with fresh water. After a hot lunch and an afternoon nap to get over post-dive drowsiness, I am ready to start processing my quadrat photographs of coral. This part of fieldwork is almost as exciting as the actual diving itself (if it did not involve hours of computer work!). I still thoroughly enjoy analysing my quadrat photos—identifying different corals and measuring their sizes. The next step would be to look at whether temperature and light intensity in Minerva and other dive sites make a difference in how these animals are recovering. This is when I get to really start answering my research questions, by documenting coral recovery. Someday this information could enable us to help reefs in crisis!

This article is from issue

11.2

2017 Jun

Painting the Tree of Life

A couple of years ago, some of us, who were then in Class VIII, created a mural of the Tree of Life on a wall in our senior school in Rishi Valley. This mural is a symbol of our learning and understanding of Charles Darwin’s Theory of Evolution. The Tree of Life describes the evolutionary relationships between all living beings on this planet. Darwin often used the image of a tree to express his theory of evolution.

“The affinities of all the beings of the same class have sometimes
been represented by a great tree. I believe this simile largely
speaks the truth. The green and budding twigs may represent
existing species; and those produced during former years may
represent the long succession of extinct species”

From Chapter IV of Charles Darwin’s
“On the Origin of Species”

The idea of evolution was introduced to us by our biology teacher. As we progressed through the lesson our teacher suggested that we paint our version of the Tree of Life on a wall in our classroom. A few of us enthusiastically took up the idea but decided that we would like to create a larger version on an empty wall in senior school. We first painted the background yellow, and on that, we then drew the skeleton of the tree with chalk. We used different shades of browns, greens, and yellows, and also brighter colors like red, purple, and blue for the rest.

We chose the branches, and the kinds of life forms to be included, in consultation with our biology teacher. At the base of the tree is a red seed in which we drew a double helix, to signify that all life evolved from DNA.

Above this, we drew three branches to represent the three Domains — the Monera (Bacteria), Archaea, and Eukaryotes. Bacteria (on the right of the trunk) are shown by E.coli. We decided to paint several species of Archaea (on the left of the trunk) as these aren’t usually shown in textbooks. The branch points also indicate that Bacteria speciated before Archaea. Above these one sees the great variety of Eukaryotes, with almost all the major groups. These include fungi, insects, and plants (ranging from ferns to flowering plants) and major Chordate orders such as birds, amphibians, reptiles, and mammals. The few dry leaves that are shown fallen on the ground are meant to represent extinct species, indicating that there have been many dead-ends in evolution.

“Of the many twigs which flourished when the tree was a mere bush, only two or three, now grown into great branches, yet survive and bear the other branches; so with the species which lived during long-past geological periods, very few have left living and modified descendants”

From Chapter IV of Charles Darwin’s
“On the Origin of Species”

One of our favourite images is of the dinosaur, and it is also a reminder that this once mighty group of animals was completely wiped off the face of the earth 65 million years ago. The mural has a background of water droplets to signify that water is the medium for all life.

The mural progressed slowly and we got into conflicts with each other as our ideas and artistic sensibilities clashed at many points. Yet this project helped us learn to work as a group and respect each other’s thoughts. Since we were in a boarding school, we could choose to work outside school hours and most of the work was done on weekends. It took a whole term (4 months!) with lots of paint, sweat, and touching up to complete our masterpiece!

The Tree of Life, while simple in conception, speaks to us intuitively, and in it lie buried many deep ideas regarding our origins and connections to all beings in the natural world. It remains the best way to explain how life on this planet developed. We hope this piece encourages you to draw your own version of the Tree of Life.

This article is from issue

11.2

2017 Jun

Turtle song

She crawls in beauty like the night
Of cloudy climes and starless skies;
And as steals across the bight
Salty tears trickle from her eyes
Hiding her eggs away from sight
She the prowling dog denies.

The fuorescent tide washed the beach clean
A darker night was never seen
The wind blew soft and then the clouds it tore:
And the mechanised boats came trawlingTrawling-trawlingThe mechanised boats came trawling, right up to the shore.

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Hatchlings out of dead sand, mixing
Instinct and survival, stirring
Baby ridleys into juvenile frenzy.

Hatchling to right of them,
Hatchling to left of them,
Hatchling behind them
Fumbl’d and founder’d;
Storm’d through the egg shell,
Scrambl’d up while others fell,
They that had jostled so well
Came thro’ the jaws of sand
Up from their incubatory spell,
All that was left of them,
Left of one hundred.

When old age shall this eon waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a fagship to man, to whom thou sayst,
“Beauty is turtle, turtle beauty,” – that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

This article is from issue

11.2

2017 Jun

Book of Beasts: An A to Z Rhyming Bestiary by M Krishnan

In my parents’ home, there is a large black and white photograph on the wall. Over the last 20 years, there have been many homes, and many walls, but this photograph has been a constant. What is so special about this photo you ask? Well, two things – it has a very special story and it was taken by a very special person.

The photo is taken in the Nilgiri forests of South India and captures in its frame a herd of elephants. At first glance, it seems to be just a nice wildlife photograph of pachyderms in the forest. Now let me share with you the special part and tell you the story, one that my father has narrated to me more times than I can count.

There are a number of elephants – big ones, ones with long trunks, ones with floppy ears, and most importantly, a little one. The elephants are walking through the forest, and have come across a giant log that is blocking their path. Some who are big enough, walk majestically over the log, while others who can’t, take the longer path around. They all continue with their walk. Well, all of them except our little friend, whom I like to call ‘the little elephant who could’. As captured in the photo, he tries and tries to cross the log, with no success. All the elephants wonder why he is not taking the easy way out and plodding around. Finally, after many slips and slides and falls, the little elephant succeeds! He climbs over the log and marches triumphantly on.

Like I said before, this photograph was gifted and this story was told to my father by a very special person. His name was M Krishnan, and he had thousands of stories just like the one of ‘the little elephant who could’, that he had seen with his own eyes. If you asked me who Krishnan was, it would be difficult to answer, because he was so very many things. Krishnan was a photographer, he was an artist, he was a writer, a poet, but most significantly he was a lover of nature. Krishnan was born more than 100 years ago and spent a large part of his life wandering India’s forests, observing the birds and beasts who made their homes there, photographing them, and writing about his times in these forests. Being the lover of words and wildlife that he was, about 25 years ago, Krishnan wrote a collection of poems as birthday presents for his granddaughter Asha.

The years passed and Asha decided she had to share these poems with animal lovers everywhere, and so she published them in a book titled ‘Book of Beasts: An A to Z Rhyming Bestiary’. If you want to learn about animals and birds, or you like to read poems, then the Book of Beasts is meant for you! Through this set of poems, Krishnan spells out the alphabet with an A to Z of wonderful and weird animals and birds.

As we turn through the pages, we see strange faces like the Eland, a kind of African antelope who resembles a cow, and familiar faces, like our favorite big cat – the tiger. Krishnan writes about animals from near and far, there are poems on Dingos from Australia and pythons from India alike. These poems are filled with fun facts, jokes, and Krishnan’s memories. The Book of Beasts is a treasure trove of information, and is so important to those of us who care about the conservation of nature and wildlife. Of the 24 animals and birds that Krishnan has written about in this book, today 11 or almost half of them are threatened or endangered in the wild. If after going through pages with Binturongs and Okapis, if you want to read about still stranger critters, no fear, because the Book of Beasts ends with the mysterious
creature XYZ!

I’ll leave you with a little verse inspired by this book.

If you want to meet an independent Kangaroo,
Or stumble upon a sullen Gnu,
If you wish to learn about the Hispid Hare,
Or the Sloth Bear-oh-so rare.
Then let your eyes and ears feast,
On the fantastic Book of Beasts.

This article is from issue

11.1

2017 Mar

Beyond the Classroom: Rediscovering Nature

An Initiative by Kalpanadham in association with Gram Vikas

Satyabhama Majhi and her group led a nature exploration workshop that was organized at Vidya Vihar school, in the Ganjam district of Odisha. Ninety-five percent of the children at the school come from tribal communities.

The idea of the workshop was to introduce children and teachers to the concept of creativity through life forms. The screening of “Rivers and Tides”, based on the British artist, sculptor, and photographer—Andy Goldsworthy’s work, created much curiosity amongst the participants about using brightly colored flowers, icicles, leaves, mud, stones, rocks, pinecones, snow, stone, twigs, stems, roots, thorns, etc. The participants worked at five locations.

The Pond

‘The lollipop’, a spiral, which symbolizes desires, aspirations, and dreams. On realization of their dreams, the fulfillment, accomplishment, and happiness provide for their families and community. Amazingly all the children knew how and where to dig the earth without having to be taught!

The River Stream

After much experimentation with sand, berries, and leaves the children still felt something was amiss. There were no flowers! In the heat of Odisha, it was difficult for the delicate flowers to bloom in the summer heat. ‘The Giant Stone Flower’, grown in a pot zigzags its way into a fine full bloom by the flowing river.

Sasmita’s Garden

As the group of children were interacting with the villagers in an “adivaasi” (Tribal) cluster, they met a young girl named Sasmita. Her home was painted with terracotta and cow dung paste. She told the children about her dream of having a garden with flowers and butterflies around her home. A vibrant colorful garden was created, and it will continue to thrive in the relentless summer heat!

Amo Khelo Gharo, Our Play Home

Creating play in the playground— the children found different kinds of wood for the structures. Some thick and strong, others needed to be thin and flexible. ‘The Giant Swing’, ‘The 3D sea-saw’, which moves sideways and round in a circle, and ‘Hula Hoops’. And from everything around them, a play home was created!

Mancha, The Tree House

A mancha is a quiet rest place in the middle of the jungle. Made from dried branches and grass, decorated with origami butterflies, jute-ropering curtains, Mancha is a resting spot. Craftily placed tags tell us about the various species found in surrounding jungle.

This article is from issue

10.4

2016 Dec

The Person of the Forest

Orangutans are one of the five species of great ape. The others are humans, chimpanzees, bonobos, and gorillas. Once widespread throughout the forests of Asia, orangutans are now found on just two islands in Indonesia, Sumatra, and Borneo. Each island has its own unique species. Indigenous people of Indonesia and Malaysia call this ape “Orang Hutan,” which literally translates as “Person of the Forest”.

Humans are closely related to orangutans. We share 96.4% of our DNA with them. We and they evolved from the same early ape ancestor, splitting from them about 13 million years ago. Orangutans can live for around 45 years in the wild.

They don’t live in groups like the other great apes, although the relationship between females and their offspring remains close for years after the young can feed and look after themselves. Females have their first offspring when they are 15-16 years old and will usually have no more than 3 offspring in their lifetimes.

Orangutans eat ripe fruit and find over 90% of their food in the forest canopy. Because their food is often scattered and unpredictable, orangutans spend up to 60% of their time finding food and eating. Orangutans also sleep in the treetops and make new ‘nests’ each night made by bending branches into a platform to support their weight. These nests can be 100 feet above the ground and males can weigh 80 kilos, so the nests need to be strong!

Orangutans are very intelligent and have even been seen making simple tools. Twigs to scratch themselves. Leafy branches to shelter themselves from rain and sun. Branches as tools during insect foraging and honey collection, and for protection against stinging insects. Tools to extract some seeds from their shells that can contain stinging hairs. Leaves as gloves to help them handle spiny fruits and branches, or as seat cushions in spiny trees. Leaves as napkins to wipe their chins. Good table manners are important, even in the forest!

Both species of orangutans are highly endangered. One hundred years ago, there were thought to be 315,000 orangutans in the wild. There are now less than 1/4 of this number left: 14,600 in Sumatra, and less than 54,000 in Borneo. The main causes of their decline are cutting down trees for building and agriculture and poaching for meat and the pet industry. Because females have only three offspring in their lifetimes, orangutan populations grow very slowly and take a long time to recover from habitat disturbance and hunting. This is why the work of organizations like the Sumatran Orangutan Society and the Orangutan Information Centre is so important.

This article is from issue

10.4

2016 Dec

The flip side

Jim Jourdane (fieldworkfail.com) illustrates some of the misadventures experienced by field biologists.

Ambika Kamath
A lizard that had eluded capture for weeks jumped on my head and ran down the
entire length of me. I still couldn’t catch it.

This article is from issue

10.4

2016 Dec

Saving the People of the Forest

My name is Ricko Jaya and I am 33 years old. I first fell in love with the “People of the Forest”, the meaning of “Orang Hutan” in the Indonesian language, when I was a student. They are truly incredible but also critically endangered, mostly because their home in the Indonesian rainforest is shrinking due to deforestation and large-scale agriculture expansion. Less than 15,000 of them are still roaming freely in the wild forests on the island of Sumatra. So I decided to take action.

Now I am a veterinarian at the Orangutan Information Centre, an organization that cares for injured Sumatran orangutans (Pongo abelii), and works to protect them and their habitat. We intervene when orangutans get too close to villages and could start raiding local farmers’ crops. Follow me today and I will describe to you how we save these beautiful creatures! It is August 21st, and I have received a phone call from a ‘local’ farmer, living 8 hours away from Medan, the capital city of North Sumatra province, where I live.

He and his friends have spotted a large male orangutan stranded in a deforested area, near their fruit orchards. He is malnourished and far from the forest with no high trees around for him to build his nest, in which he sleeps at night. I call my team, and the five of us prepare our equipment: ropes, a strong cage, veterinary supplies, and a landing net. We will drive all night to reach the village, then take a small boat to where we will finally find the orangutan. During an emergency case like this one, we forget to sleep: the safety of the orangutan comes first!

Now begins the most stressful part—catching the orangutan. He is big and scared and tired, so before we can catch him, we must put him to sleep using a tranquilizer dart. This doesn’t hurt the big boy, but it means we can transport him safely. One of the team takes aim with a tranquilizer gun. He fires and the dart hits the back of the orangutan, who will soon start to feel sleepy. Meanwhile, the rest of the team prepares a large landing net. After a few minutes, the male orangutan is falling asleep and begins slowly moving towards the ground. Soon we have him in the net. The most difficult part of the mission is accomplished!

Now, it is a race to get everything done before he starts to wake up. I have 10-15 minutes to conduct a medical check-up, make sure he is not injured, and provide vitamins and food supplements. Then we put him in a cage on the back of our pick-up truck and drive to the national park. The cage is heavy as it must be strong, and the orangutan weighs some 80 kilos. We reach a safe, quiet spot on the edge of the national park and lift the cage down. Most of the team now move back while one of us opens the door. The big orangutan slowly emerges from the cage, and turning towards us the last time, he climbs up into lianas and branches. I am sure he winked at us to say “thank you” before disappearing into the rainforest. Mission accomplished! Good luck big boy!

Special thanks to Fabien Garnier for his help with this article.
If you want to know more about the work of the Orangutan Information Centre and would like to support us, you can visit our websites:
-https://orangutancentre.org/
-https://www.orangutanssos.org/

Or follow us on Facebook:
-https://www.facebook.com/Orangutan-Information-Centre-249175758613943/?fref=ts
-https://www.facebook.com/orangutanssos/

This article is from issue

10.4

2016 Dec

The flip side

Jim Jourdane (fieldworkfail.com) illustrates some of the misadventures experienced by field biologists in our new ‘The flip side’.

Agata Staniewicz
Accidentally glued herself to a crocodile while attaching a radio transmitter.

This article is from issue

10.3

2016 Sep

Lantana! Lantana! Everywhere…

You’ve seen Lantana everywhere, yet you probably don’t know very much about it. It has pretty little flowers but has prickly leaves and thorny stems. Gardeners like it. Elephants and deer avoid it. Butterflies and birds love it! Biologists call it an invasive plant. Geetha Ramaswami studies it, and tells us a little more about it.

CC Kids: Tell us about invasive plants and animals. What are they?

Imagine that you are a brightly colored little frog living on an island in the Caribbean. You would be a ‘native’ frog on that island. But suppose you caught the fancy of a visiting pet trader from Sri Lanka, who thought that you would look great in an aquarium. He captures some of you and brings you home. You are now an ‘introduced’ frog in Sri Lanka.

Supposing some of you frogs get washed down the drain when your aquarium in the pet shop is being cleaned. You end up in a pond outside, have lots of baby frogs, and spread to other ponds. There are soon so many of you that you start to compete for food with all the Sri Lankan frogs. You might also eat up all the useful insects. This is when you will be called an invasive frog. How can a little frog become such a nuisance, you ask? Well, it could be because you don’t get eaten by other animals the way local frogs do. Or perhaps you are just better at catching insects than the local frogs. And so one way or another the locals don’t stand a chance against you! People introduce lots of plants and animals to new places. Many of these become invasive. Others don’t, maybe because they didn’t find the right things to eat, or they couldn’t deal with the weather, or weren’t able to spread very far.

CC Kids: Tell us a little more about the invasive plant that you work on.

I work on a thorny, bushy plant called Lantana. In India it is spread over many millions of hectares. You are sure to have seen it – it has clusters of pretty pink flowers and juicy, sweet, black berries. I am interested in all the mischief it brings about in the forests that it invades.

CC Kids: How did Lantana get here? And how did it become invasive?

Well, Lantana was introduced from South America to grow in gardens, because its flowers looked so pretty. It was brought to India by British botanists more than 200 years ago! Lantana was able to invade because it has several ways to ensure that it can get around and grow. Lots of birds and some animals eat the fruit, and poop the seeds out in different places, helping to spread it far and wide! Lantana can also sprout right back if its top is cut off or if it is burnt.

CC Kids: Ok, so we know how Lantana is able to spread. But is it also harmful, like the invasive frog?

Yes, Lantana can change a lot of things. It can grow so fast, that many native plants just cannot compete with it. It can change soil conditions. Lantana also grows in dense thickets and sometimes this can make it difficult for large animals to move around! Also, not many animals can eat lantana leaves without getting really sick, so it is bad for herbivores.

CC Kids: Is Lantana always this harmful or do some animals benefit from it?

Oh yes! Many insects drink nectar from its flowers and in return transfer its pollen to other plants, helping it to produce more fruits and seeds and so, more baby plants. Lantana also has delicious, juicy, sweet berries that lots of birds and some animals like to eat. (Because these birds and animals help spread Lantana seeds, they are also called ‘seed dispersers’.)

CC Kids: Why are you studying Lantana?

I am trying to understand if Lantana steals away seed dispersers from other plants. (Many plants need fruit-eating animals to visit them and spread their seeds.) But Lantana could be more attractive to animals than other plants, thanks to all those juicy berries it produces. This will eventually result in more lantana plants spreading instead of native plants.

CC Kids: Do we have ways to deal with Lantana? It sure seems like quite a problem.

Well, Lantana has been around for a long time now, so there’s probably no getting rid of it completely. But people try. Forest Departments remove Lantana by the thousands every year. It’s a lot of work! And farmers definitely don’t want Lantana on their lands, so they till it. But Lantana’s seeds keep arriving, thanks to its dispersers. Keeping lantana at bay is hard work indeed, but we must definitely strive to control it in areas that are important for people and wild animals.

This article is from issue

10.3

2016 Sep

Alien invaders—our top six!

Burmese python (Python bivittatus)

The Burmese python is one of the largest snakes in the world. In the US many pet shops sell baby Burmese pythons. But these snakes grow fast, and aren’t such cute pets after some time. People release pet snakes into the wild once they grow big and become difficult to look after at home. These snakes have become a huge problem in places like the Florida Everglades, where they have eaten up most of the wildlife. They have even been known to eat alligators!

Mesquite (Prosopis juliflora)

This is a medium-sized thorny tree with yellow flowers and pods that goats, buffaloes, and camels feed on (they also help to spread it!). It was introduced to India in the 1850s because it grew fast and could rapidly provide lots of fuelwood. Now it is an invasive plant all across the hot, dry parts of the country, and has taken over grasslands and farms. Because it spreads so fast, it is called the ‘mad babool’ in some places! But people have also figured out a use for it—in many places, people make charcoal from its wood.

Giant African snail (Achatina fulica)

The first know pair of African giant snails were brought to Kolkata by a British malacologist in the 1800s from Mauritius. (A malacologist is a scientist who studies animals like snails and oysters and even octopuses!) He presented this pair of snails to a friend to keep in his garden. Very soon, the snails had multiplied and were all over Kolkata! These large and unusual snails got carried as pets to other parts of the country and are now found in huge numbers, in places like Kerala and Assam. They are hungry creatures and chomp through crops like potatoes, spinach, bananas, and tomatoes, doing a lot of damage.

The brown tree snake (Boiga irregularis)

This snake is native to Australia and Papua New Guinea and was accidentally transported to Guam as a stowaway on ships sometime in the late 1940s or early 1950s. In Guam, there are no animals that eat the brown tree snake, but the snake has found lots of things that it can eat, like birds, rodents, and reptiles. So much so that some birds have even gone extinct on Guam, thanks to this invasive snake!

Mile-a-minute weed (Mikania micrantha)

This climber, from the American tropics, is called a “mile-a-minute” weed for good reason. It grows extremely fast, and can quickly blanket entire trees. In fact, the story goes that it was introduced to India during the 2nd World War, to camouflage airfields! It clambers all over trees in plantations and forests, very quickly smothering what is underneath.

Congress grass (Parthenium hysterophorus)

This is a small herb with tiny white flowers. It arrived in India by accident, people think, because its seeds got mixed up with wheat that was being imported for food! It is a very common plant along roadsides and in open areas. Some people are quite allergic to it.

What can you do to reduce the spread of invasive plants and animals?

  1. If you are arriving from abroad, don’t bring plants and animals back with you!
  2. Don’t buy exotic pets. And certainly don’t release exotic pets into the wild. Even tiny
    goldfish can become big and invasive.
  3. If you are planting a garden, try to use native plants. Even if you do not intend to attract
    pollinators and dispersers, be aware that colourful flowers will get pollinated and sweet
    fruit will get eaten! So help prevent accidental garden escapes via bird- and bat-mobiles.
  4. Join the SPAIS programme and report the occurrence of invasive plants and animals
    (https://indiabiodiversity.org/group/spotting_alien_invasive_species).
  5. Don’t remove creatures from where they belong and put them in places where they don’t.
This article is from issue

10.3

2016 Sep

SSHHHHHHH

SSSSHHHHHH,
WISH WASHA-WAAAAAAAAAAH,
WISH WASHA-WAAAAAAAAAAH,
WISH WASHA-WAAAA fall the waves on my shore,
SCHLOOP GLUP PA air escapes from the mud,
HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS,
HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS,
Sand drifts……………………….,
Sand drifts ……………………….,

HUSH TICA HAAAA sing the grasses in the meadow,
SWEEP SWAPA SWEEP call the birds in the trees,
SUPAAPA SIP SUPAAPA the whisper in the leaves,
A BRRRR TICA TAC… bird flies to the sky,
Mountains soar………………….,
Mountains soar………………….,

CRACKLE HISS-SIH… temperature is rising,
SAAAAAA CCCSH… ice in the North,
PIP-PIP… the ice melts away,
CHURGLE GLAGA GLUG … so much water,
…………………. Seas riiiiise…………,
…………………. Seas riiiiise ………..,

A BRRRR TICA TAC… the last bird leaves,
HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS,
HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS,
Sand drifts …………………..,
Sand drifts …………………..,
SSHHHHHHHHHH……… ,

This article is from issue

10.3

2016 Sep

Life on the Wave of Knowledge: Integrating Fisher’s Lore and Scientific Study

Can you be an expert in fisheries without a degree in marine biology? The famous scientist Dr Robert Johannes, a marine biologist, spent much of his working life answering this question with a “Hell, yes!”

In the 1970s, Johannes spent 16 months living with local people in the islands of Palau in the Western Pacific Ocean, learning about fish from them. They taught him about the different types of fish, which reefs the fish lived on, what they ate, how they hid from predators. They also knew when different fish would arrive in their fishing grounds and when they would disappear, when they bred, and how many of the different types there were. This information he got from the fishers had been built up over generations. Later, Johannes said that those fishers taught him more in just over a year than he had learnt in 15 years using research methods he practiced at university.

What did Johannes do with this knowledge? He wrote it down and became one of the first researchers of fishers’ knowledge. Other people had lived with, and written about similar communities 50 years earlier, but their work had been lost. Johannes and others uncovered their journals and notes. He found admiration for people in traditional fishing communities and felt that their knowledge should be shared with the world.

There was a challenge. The scientific way of studying fish was very different to Johannes’ approach of spending months with the local fishers, and recording their ocean lore. Scientists believed in their academic methods, where everything could be counted and measured. The types of knowledge possessed by the fishers did not fit easily with this.

Johannes’ challenge was to bring the two approaches together. He believed we could get a complete understanding of fisheries by studying the knowledge that local fishers had built over years. This could be combined with modern science to see patterns within the broader picture.

Since those early years, experts in both approaches have been busy. Over time, the sea of information they have produced has become murky, and hard to read. In 2014, Dr. Edward Hind, a researcher in marine sustainability, embarked on a voyage of discovery, to dredge all this information and summarise its flowing tides. In his review, he describes the ebbs and flows of both research approaches and asks if they have started to come together. Much like the oceans themselves, Dr. Hind finds that the research into fishers’ knowledge has come in waves.

Wave Chart
A HISTORY OF FISHERIES RESEARCH

Wave 1:

1900 to 1970
Amateur naturalists and tradesmen traveled the seas in search of adventure and riches. They were some of the first outsiders to recognize and deliberately record the knowledge of local fishers. Their notes were lost until Johannes and his colleagues re-discovered them.

Wave 2:

1970 to 2000
Scientists were inspired by the first wave. They focused on collecting fishers’ knowledge. Some even felt this knowledge was enough on its own to manage the fisheries.

Wave 3:

2000 to present day
Largely relies on semistructured interviews, e.g. local fishers are asked to rate fish numbers as ‘good’, ‘average’ or ‘bad’, or to draw information on nautical maps. They don’t think that fishers’ knowledge is enough on its own to manage fisheries. Instead, they emphasize that it should be used in combination with conventional scientific methods.

Wave 4:

Marine biologists, practicing ‘traditional science’. They do collect data from fishers, and only things they can count or measure like how many fish were caught, and exactly where and when the fishers caught them.

Wave 5:

This is very new, just a ripple really. It seems to be trying to bring together waves 3 and 4, for example, interviewing local fishermen, and recording a variety of information from them, including things which the scientists can use like fish numbers.

Question

How can wave 5 link-local fishers, fishers’ knowledge researchers, and fisheries scientists?

So where does this leave us? Is there a calmer ocean ahead for those studying fishers’ knowledge and those studying fisheries science to sail forwards together peacefully? Perhaps they could even be in the same boat? Hind thinks that there is still a way to go before the two types of researchers truly work well together. Yes, scientists must drop any negative prejudices against fishers, but fishers’ knowledge researchers must collect information useful to the scientists. What happens next is down to the next generation of scientists.

This article is from issue

10.2

2016 Jun

Tracking a Gentle Giant

Basking sharks can grow up to 12m in length, making them the 2nd largest species of fish in the world. This poses the question; how can we know so little about something so big?

The sight of a large dark fin slicing through the water will fill some with dread. For me it’s excitement and intrigue. Sharks have been swimming in our oceans for nearly 450 million years, but we know very little about key parts of their lives, such as where they eat, breed and travel to during their annual migrations. This information is critical to help provide protection for sharks, as many species are over-exploited and numbers are dwindling. This is where my research comes in…

I am a PhD student, studying basking sharks (Cetorhinus maximus) in UK waters, trying to uncover a little more about where these awesome creatures travel to and what they might be doing when they go there.

The answer is that even though we often see these sharks feeding at the surface in coastal waters of the UK and Ireland during the summer, from the autumn onwards they move into deeper waters, disappearing from sight, and leaving us unable to follow them. However, we are now able to attach small satellite tags onto the sharks, which take detailed information about how deep the sharks are in the water, and where in the world they are swimming. The tags then fall off the sharks after a set time, and send us all this information via satellites. This allows us to follow them, without being anywhere near them!

But first, we need to find the sharks to put the trackers on them. We head out on our boat each summer, searching until we see some sharks (which can take minutes, hours or days). We then approach very slowly so that we don’t disturb the sharks from what they were doing. In the summer, this usually means eating. Standing at the very front of the boat, we use a long pole to attach the tag to the base of the shark’s fin. The shark, unfazed, continues to swim along, feasting on the tiny zooplankton in the water.

The tags then start to collect lots of exciting data for us, so we can try and make sure this enigmatic species is well looked after for the future!

Find out more at:

https://www.exeter.ac.uk/esi/people/phd_students/doherty/

https://www.exeter.ac.uk/esi/research/baskingsharktracking/

This article is from issue

10.2

2016 Jun

It’s feeding time at the cleaner-fish cafe

common names
Common cleaner-fish
Bridled beauty
Gadfly fish
Janitor fish

scientific name
Labroides dimidiatus

distribution
Tropical and temperate waters of the Indo-Pacific ocean. A well-known species on the great barrier reef in Australia.

habitat
Coral reefs

diet
L.dimidiatus feeds on parasites and mucus which it removes from the scales, mouths and gills of other larger species of reef fish, called ‘clients’.

fact file
The relationship between L.dimidiatus and its ‘clients’ is called a mutualism. This means that both the cleaner-fish and client get something from their relationship. The cleaner-fish gets food, and their clients have their parasites removed. This improves their health and increases their chances of survival. The process also appears to feel good, perhaps like gentle tickling.

Cleaner-fish establish territories, called cleaning stations, from which they provide their services. Their clients know where these stations are, and visit them when they need a clean.

Although providing an important service for their clients, L.dimidiatus also takes the opportunity to cheat when possible, picking mucus instead of parasites from their client’s scales. Scientists think this mucus may provide the cleaner-fish with protection from ultraviolet sun rays, as well as with a nutritious meal. Even fish need to wear sun screen when the sun is fierce. However, removing the mucus doesn’t get the client fish much cleaner, so they prefer their cleaners to stick to the parasites.

client species

Spiny chromis damselfish
Acanthochromis polyacanthus
Females lay very large eggs, embryos develop slowly for damselfish, making the young very well-developed when they hatch. Both parents look after the young for a surprisingly long period once they emerge from the eggs.

Slingjaw wrasse
Epibulus insidiator
When males of this species are trying to impress the females and find a mate, they can actually change their color, becoming brighter. If disturbed from their displays, they can quickly switch back to their usual color pattern.

Black-backed wrasse
Anampses neoguinaicus
This carnivorous fish usually lives in small groups of females, and is accompanied by a single male. Black-backed wrasse is what scientists call a protogynous hermaphrodite. All individuals start off as females, but when the male in the group dies, one of the females changes her sex, becoming the dominant breeding male.

Epaulette shark
Hemiscyllium ocellatum
This shark grows to just over a meter in length, and can be found in waters as shallow as 15cm. They can survive even when oxygen levels in the water are very low, lowering their blood pressure by 50% to maintain blood-flow to their brains.

Blunt-head parrotfish
Chlorurus microrhinos
This large and colourful fish grows up to 80cm in length, forms schools of up to 40 individuals and can live for 15 years.

eviction notice!

In December 2015, the Queensland state government gave the go ahead for the expansion of a coal port at Abbot Point. Although there are measures in place to protect the coral and the life it supports, these restrictions may not stop the damage. Adani Mining, argues that the control measures are sufficient and the expansion will create 10,000 jobs and deliver $AUD 22 billion in taxes and royalties.

Although some development work has begun, the mining projects, are currently being held up by opposition and legal challenges from groups representing aboriginal land-owners, the United Nations, and environmental groups.

This article is from issue

10.2

2016 Jun

The African black rhino

Scientific name
Diceros bicornis

{Dicero comes from the Greek words, Di = two and Ceros = horn and Bicornis from the Latin words, Bi = two and Cornis = horn}

Also called the hook-lipped rhino, it’s hook-shaped upper lip helps grasp and rip plants.

Diceros bicornis bicornis, Diceros bicornis michaeli, Diceros bicornis minor and Diceros bicornis longipes are all sub-species of the African black rhino found in the dry deserts, wet forests and Savannah grassland.

Length (head and body)
3.0 – 3.8m

Height (at shoulder)
1.4 – 1.7m

Weight
800 – 1,350kg

Larger front horn
0.5 – 1.3m

Smaller rear horn
up to 55 cm

Diet
Herbivorous

2000 BC
Rhinos engraved into rocks in Niger

Early 20th Century
Increased hunting, land clearance for agriculture & conflict due to crop damage. With the exclusion of indigenous people from many areas, and increased trophy hunting, traditional knowledge and ways of life are lost. This leads to poverty and the search for alternative livelihoods.

1930s
Population falling fast

1950s – now
Increased use of rhino horn in Chinese medicine (thought to cure rheumatism, gout, fever, typhoid and other conditions. There is little evidence for these medical benefits). Poaching is lucrative and a poacher could make more money in a day than he would otherwise earn in a year.

1980
Rhinos found in only two countries, 110 in Cameroon and 25 in Chad.

1991
50 in Cameroon and none in Chad.

1997
10 – 18 individuals remaining.

2001
5 confirmed and 3 unconfirmed sightings.

2006
Extensive survey fails to find any rhinos.

2011
Western black rhino officially declared extinct.

A look into the future

Although facing many of the same threats which caused extinction of the Western black rhino, all three of the other subspecies still survive in the wild. The numbers are increasing, conservationists are optimistic that with effort and pressure from governments and the public, the remaining black rhinos can be saved.

There are critical questions that still need to be answered. Who owns the rhinos? Should rhinos be protected, harvested for their horns or both? How do we balance the rights of people and rhinos? Is there a role for ecotourism?

Population size estimate (IUCN, 2010)

D.b.bicornis (South-Western)
1920

D.b.michaeli (Eastern)
740

D.b.minor (Southern-Central)
2220

This article is from issue

10.1

2016 Mar

India meets the UK in a new pen-pal project for Current Conservation

The pen-pal tradition, where two school children living on different continents share their daily adventures, has become much less common than it once was.

Modern technology has offered wonderful new opportunities for instant long-distance communication. In many ways, it has made distances between people seem much smaller. It is now possible, for one sitting in his bedroom in India, to have a real-time video chat with a friend in London, Hong Kong, Sydney, or Shanghai.

Traditional methods of communication, letters and brown paper parcels, are slow by comparison. They are rapidly becoming obsolete. However, traditional technologies have a tangible quality that cannot be replaced by an email.

Although email gives us instant gratification, letters allow readers to feel closer. There is much excitement in receiving a hand-written letter or ripping open, emptying, and exploring the contents of a big parcel.

What if you combined the two, making the most of the digital realm’s ability to connect people instantly, and sharing physical objects from friends in far-flung places? This new Current Conservation project promises much joy for students by resurrecting the pen-pal tradition and taking the best that old and new postal methods offer.

11-13-year-olds from two schools, one in Cornwall UK, and another near Bangalore India, will establish the first trial partnership. The students will explore ‘a year in the life of a tree’. Working together and independently, children from both schools will observe a particular tree.

They will collect, illustrate and share stories about the tree and its many visitors. The documentation could be a painting, a collection of leaves, lists of bird species seen among the branches, or anything else that has captivated their imagination. What species live in the tree? What do its flowers look like? When does it fruit? What sound do its fluttering leaves make when you sit beneath its branches on a breezy day? The schools will then exchange their natural diaries, and maintain a record of the sights and sounds they see and hear from their windows, and their counterpart’s windows, a continent away.

Current Conservation will document this partnership, and display some of the exchanged experiences. The pen-pal project will bridge the gap between the technological and natural worlds.

If your school wishes to participate in the pen-pal project, please write to us at :
matthew.creasey@gmail.com (U.K), or hiremath@atree.org (India).

We look forward to hearing from you!

This article is from issue

10.1

2016 Mar

A Day in the Life of a Raptor Ecologist: Baby Birds with a Powerful Bite

George Swan, a PhD student at Exeter University, UK, recounts his daily climbing adventures with buzzard chicks!

My research involves climbing up to nests of common buzzards (Buteo buteo), to collect data on how often the parents bring food to the chicks, and what sort of prey they prefer. Young birds with big beaks – they give me plenty to think about.

I start my day by going through my calendar and making a list of all the nests I need to visit. I visit nests when the chicks are 18-25 days old and install tiny cameras that film the parents every time they bring food to the chicks.

This age range is the perfect period when chicks are large enough to control their temperature but small enough to be handled easily.

I avoid visiting nests in bad weather as I don’t want to disturb the chicks when they are already cold. This means that on sunny days in late spring, I have to be super organized! With my target nests selected, I load the truck with all my climbing and camera gear and head out.

Once I’ve reached a nest, it usually takes 45 minutes to complete everything I need to do. I start by firing a weight attached to some string over a strong branch high up in the tree using a huge catapult. When the weight drops down the other side, I attach my climbing rope and pull it up and over. Then I hoist myself up the rope, climb to the nest, install the camera and assemble a recording box at the base of the tree. I try and climb three nests before lunch, and then another two or three in the afternoon.

Such work can be physically demanding, it is a struggle to climb more than six nests in a day. By dark, I am back at the storeroom where I clean all the gear, check the weather for the next day and get ready to start all over again.

This article is from issue

10.1

2016 Mar

The Bull, the Bear, and the Bumbley Bee!

The bull, the bear and the bumbley bee,
Sat in the shade of a Gulmohar tree,
Said one to the two, and two to the three,
What lives do we lead, persecuted or free?

I live in the forest, eat termites and ants,
I sleep in my den through the heat of the day,
But I can be grumpy if woken too early,
Surprised or disturbed and I don’t like to play.

Should I be chased for not being cheerful?
Don’t you feel the same when woken too soon?
I’m happy to share the forests and grassland,
I’ll come out at night, by the light of the moon.

Some of my cousins have freedom to wander,
To graze in green pastures, no shackles, no chains,
One brother I have in the Banni,
Fed on crops grown in sweet summer rains.

How different for those in cities and towns,
More buildings built, more green fields lost,
A cow in town must scavenge on garbage,
The city grows bigger, the cow pays the cost.

You both talk of freedom, of cities, of forests,
Loved or revered, you both have your place,
I live here too, am I not important?
I’m so very small and take up little space.

Without me no honey, no flowers, no blossom,
No food for birds, no flutter-byes bright,
I’m sorry to sting, but when we are threatened,
To defend my sisters I’m willing to fight.

The bee, the bull and the snuffly bear,
Were common but now are increasingly rare,
So ask one another would not it be fair,
To live and let live in the country we share?

This article is from issue

10.1

2016 Mar

Conserving diversity: biological and institutional

Most people love nature, and marvel at its incredible diversity. Even an ecosystem patch as small as a tiny pond can contain hundreds of different kinds of species, with complex life systems working at multiple levels, that have evolved over millennia. We admire this complexity, are amazed by it, and deeply appreciate the need to save it. Witness for instance the ongoing discussion in the Indian media about the crisis of the fast disappearing tiger, India’s flagship conservation species, and the depleting diversity of the dry tropical forest habitats where it has a large home range.

It is quite surprising to observe the almost total lack of similar awareness of the incredible institutional diversity that exists across the world, and the deep connections between this kind of institutional diversity, and the conservation of biological diversity. From Africa to Alaska and India to Iceland, traditional tribes and local communities have developed complex, multi-level, astonishingly detailed and varied systems of rules and norms that have enabled them to conserve and sustainably use the natural resources with which their lives are so intricately interwoven. Some of these institutions have a documented existence of time scales spanning several centuries. From forest-specific rules that include a ban on the killing of specific species during the breeding season, to complex multi- level irrigation systems that specify when downstream and upstream farmer groups engage in maintenance activities, to spatially and temporally varying guidelines for pastoral grazing communities that move across hundreds of kilometers and many ecological regimes, these communities have developed innovative, complex and constantly adapting approaches to deal with the varying challenges that they face while nested in a certain ecology.

For those who have interacted with local communities governing ecological commons in any part of the world, it is easy to see that the “natural” environment in these contexts in fact exists as an interconnected social-ecological system. Social and institutional rules are modified in response to ecological condition, while at the same time acting as a major force shaping ecosystem change. Yet, many policy makers, governments and administrators, conservation agencies, and even the average city dweller, tend to be unaware of the vast history, heritage, learning – and potential-of community institutions.

Elinor Ostrom’s pioneering work has done much to change this situation, but there is still a long way to go. As the articles in this special issue indicate, her research has made a substantial case for governments to involve local communities in conservation, by providing a substantial body of evidence that affirms the capacity of local communities to sustainably manage natural resources. In Latin America, Asia and Africa, governments have initiated policies of decentralization that attempt to return some degree of control over forests and other local resources to communities. Yet, Ostrom’s reasoning is far from prescriptive or naïve—she clearly warns of the dangers inherent
in rapid decentralization without effective controls, and lays out a clear set of principles that indicate conditions under which communities are likely to be successful managers of common resources. She cautions that a large part of the reasons why communities are successful is that they have the freedom to craft diverse rules that apply to their local context, and to modify these rules based on their real life learnings, and in response to changes in the condition of the natural resource over time. Unfortunately, many governmental, regional and international policies—even those aimed at engaging with local communities—fail because they tend to be prescriptive, assuming that one approach to conservation, with a few simple rules (such as the need to raise money for more guns and more guards) will always work. She also argues eloquently for the need for polycentric institutions—those with multiple levels of administration and decision making, national and local, government and community—working in synergy for better management at all appropriate scales. Thus her work does not pit community against state, but asks for better and closer engagements between these two sets of actors, with greater trust, and opportunities for participation at an equal footing.

Since the award of the Nobel Prize, broader awareness of her influential ideas has increased, and this is a good sign for the future of the world, and its indigenous peoples. Elinor Ostrom’s indefatigable energy has taken her across the globe several times over, traveling to meet with policy makers, governments and think tanks and explain to them the main message of her work, without losing out on the essential details of complexity, adaptiveness and change. It is a hard task, but one made more accessible by the energy and spirit with which she delivers her message. It is also a goal made more feasible by the rich body of resources she has developed over decades in the form of colleagues, networks, postdocs and students, who now engage with similar issues across the world, expanding on these ideas in a range of local contexts. This special section brings to you a glimpse of the work—theoretical and applied—inspired by Ostrom’s principles of the commons—in different parts of the world.

The challenge for our future is to apply these principles for effective management in a world impacted by urbanization, climate change and deforestation, where the scale and intensity of environmental and ecological problems are changing before our very eyes. Treating people as part of the solution, rather than just part of the problem, will have to constitute the way forward. The area of work initiated by Elinor Ostrom and her network of colleagues will provide a critical component in searching for new solutions to the emerging crisis.

This article is from issue

4.3

2010 Sep