Sleuths on a dog hunt

Asiatic wild dogs (dholes) are group-living carnivores found in the forests of South and Southeast Asia. They are generally shy, elusive, and very sensitive to human disturbance. But in the Valparai plateau of India’s Western Ghats, they live alongside people in human-modified habitats such as tea and coffee plantations. How do dholes live in such areas? Are they not scared of humans? Have they changed their behaviours and habits to adapt? In a quest to answer these and many other questions, I travelled to Valparai earlier this year to understand the secret lives of dholes in this unique landscape.

Within a week of my arrival in Valparai, I had seen a lot of wild animals including Nilgiri langurs, lion-tailed macaques, gaurs and even elephants living alongside people in tea and coffee plantations. I found myself constantly amazed at the incredible adaptability of these large animals that were living in ‘human spaces’. I started interacting and engaging with the local residents who lived or worked within tea and coffee estates, almost incessantly enquiring about their last dhole sighting or their knowledge about the dholes’ movements and whereabouts.

The contrasting accounts left me rather surprised. One person reported seeing dholes 13-14 times in a year, while their neighbour had never seen a dhole in the 10 years they had lived in that area. People’s accounts of dhole sightings and their enthusiasm in sharing information about the species was heartening. Most were amazed at how well co-ordinated a dhole pack was and how well they communicated with each other to bring down large prey such as sambar deer.

Often overshadowed by other charismatic species they co-occur with, dholes have largely been overlooked in terms of research and conservation. This was also evident in my conversations with the people of Valparai. At the end of each conversation, they would almost invariably ask me if I also wanted information about leopards or elephants. When I told them that I was only looking for information on dholes, I would get puzzled looks; they would even ask, “Why do you want information on dholes when there are so many leopards and elephants here?” Some would admit that they have only ever had researchers ask them about leopards and elephants, but this is the first time someone is asking them about wild dogs.

Dholes are listed as ‘Endangered’ by the IUCN and their populations have experienced significant declines across their range. Their largest population occurs in India, and so far, most research on dholes here has focused on populations inside protected areas.

Based on the information I gathered from the local residents, I started looking for signs of dhole movement (scat and tracks) in areas where they frequented. Initially my instincts told me to look for signs in locations closer to forest fragments because there was no way that dholes would venture too close to places where humans lived or worked. Subsequently, I started combing the plantations — tea bushes, swampy areas with small streams adjacent to forest fragments and grounds that had been cleared for annual football tournaments.

I found dhole scats in all these locations, as well as along the roads of tea estates that were heavily used by plantation workers. Despite having heard of high dhole activity in these areas, I was still very surprised at what I was seeing. Apart from dhole scats, I also found signs of leopards, sloth bears, elephants, and gaurs on these same paths. The people in Valparai were sharing space with big carnivores and mega-herbivores on a daily basis.

It had been almost three weeks since I had arrived in Valparai. I had seen a lot of dhole signs all over the landscape, but the dholes themselves continued to elude me. I connected with local naturalists who took me to more locations where they had frequent dhole sightings. Again, I found an abundance of indirect signs but no dholes.

One morning in the last week of January, we were in the eastern part of the plateau where the dholes had killed a sambar around two weeks earlier. As I meticulously inspected the skull of the sambar, I felt a bit restive, wondering if I would see any dholes in Valparai at all. At that very moment, my field associate received a phone call about a sighting of a pack feeding on an ungulate inside a dam around 20km away. It would take us 40 minutes to get there, and the dholes would have probably finished their meal and moved on by then. But that was a risk we were willing to take; we were desperate.

As expected, yet to our disappointment, we missed seeing the dholes by the time we reached. Upon inspecting the kill site, we found the damp soil covered in fresh tracks of several dholes and a sambar. We suspected that there had been a chase before the hunt in that location. As we followed the tracks, our suspicions were confirmed when we found the extremely well-camouflaged carcass of the sambar that the dholes had been feeding on. Luckily, there was some meat still left on the carcass, which meant that the pack would likely come back to finish it off.

Dholes are diurnal animals, with peak activity at crepuscular hours (i.e., dawn and dusk). It was presently getting hot with the sun looming high, roasting up the open, dry reservoir bed. We decided to return to the site at around 4pm. Later that day, stationed on an elevated path that overlooked the dam, we eagerly waited. An hour passed and the sun started to set. The air around us cooled down but there was no sign of the pack. Minutes later, I felt a tap on my shoulder and my field associate excitedly pointed at the path below. A single dhole went trotting towards the sambar kill. Within seconds, seven more dholes followed. We watched in fascination for 20 minutes, as they tore into every last bit of meat from the carcass. Once they finished their meal, they headed back to the tea bushes where they had emerged from. And with that, I had seen my first ever dhole pack in Valparai.

A mere five minutes after the dholes had disappeared, a tea estate worker walked down the same path, completely unaware that they were treading the same path that a pack of carnivores did, just moments ago. Agroforests like coffee and tea plantations have been predicted to play an important role in maintaining connectivity between source populations of dholes in the protected areas of the Western Ghats. In Valparai, these habitats are doing more than just maintaining connectivity; they are providing space for dholes to live, hunt, rest and reproduce. The sighting left me feeling excited about finding out the myriad ways in which wild dogs are adapting and cohabiting the landscape with the wonderful people of Valparai.

This project is part of Wildlife Conservation Society-India and The Dhole Project’s efforts to conserve dhole populations in India.

This article is from issue

17.3

2023 Sep

Addressing agricultural labour issues is key to biodiversity-smart farming

Once an integral part of her daily routine, it now has been weeks since she last wielded her hoe. “Things have changed since I hired a tractor and a neighbour sprays my fields with herbicides,” says Precious Banda, a farmer in Zambia. “Farming used to break my back, taking hundreds of hours, but life is easy now,” she adds. But she has also noticed changes around her farm. Most concerning for her: it has become difficult to find wild caterpillars and Bondwe (Amaranth leaves), which used to make her a delightful dish. Precious Banda’s story illustrates the situation of millions of farmers in the Global South.

Agricultural development is a top priority in much of the Global South. In Africa, for example, governments have ambitious goals for agricultural growth as part of the Comprehensive African Agricultural Development Programme (CAADP), with the aim to reduce poverty and hunger, which particularly affects farmers. But while agricultural development is necessary for improving livelihoods, it often clashes with biodiversity, which is rapidly declining worldwide. The Living Planet Index, representing over 20,000 populations of 4,392 species, shows an average decline in population size of 68 percent between 1970 and 2016. Scientists talk about a sixth mass extinction.

Losing the world’s remaining biodiversity could have dramatic effects on food security as it undermines ecosystem services such as pollination, soil formation, nutrient cycling, climate regulation, maintenance of water supplies, and pest and disease control. Biodiversity loss can also undermine farmers’ access to wild meat, honey, vegetables, fruits, tubers and nuts. In the case of Precious Banda, it is the loss of wild caterpillars and Bondwe that make her dishes less nutritious.

Agriculture affects biodiversity through both land expansion and intensification

Agriculture affects biodiversity via two pathways: agricultural land expansion and intensification. In Africa, 75 percent of agricultural growth comes from the conversion of forests and savannahs into farmland, as a study in Science showed in 2021. Similar trends have been observed in other regions of the world. The loss and fragmentation of habitats threaten species that rely on large contiguous habitats for survival.

Intensification allows growing more food on existing land, sparing land for “wild” nature. As part of the Green Revolution, India tripled cereal production since the 1960s, while increasing farmland area by only six percent. In Africa, farmers still achieve only around 25 percent of their yield potential, according to a study by Wageningen University. However, intensification is often associated with greater use of agrochemicals such as pesticides and landscape simplification to ease the use of machinery.

The need to reconcile agriculture and biodiversity is gradually more recognised by researchers, policymakers, and farmers, among others. However, discussions on biodiversity-friendly agriculture focus mainly on conservation objectives and — to some degree — on reducing trade-offs with land productivity, which is important as low yields undermine land sparing. In contrast, the role of agricultural labour is often neglected. In a new paper in Biological Conservation, we argue that this is problematic given the heavy toil of agriculture for the world’s 550 million family farms, as exemplified by the story of Precious Banda. Ultimately, neglecting labour needs is not only bad for livelihoods but may also undermine the success of biodiversity conservation efforts. We, therefore, call for biodiversity-smart agriculture, which reconciles biodiversity conservation with not only land productivity but also labour needs.

Farmers strive to reduce the heavy burden of agriculture

Addressing agricultural labour issues is key to achieving the Sustainable Development Goals. Raising agricultural labour productivity can help to increase farmers’ income, thereby reducing poverty. Moreover, manual agriculture is burdensome. Cultivating one hectare of maize takes smallholder farmers close to 1200 hours, much of which is spent working with simple hand hoes in extreme heat and humidity (climate change will make this even worse).

“I can still feel it,” says Precious Banda as she recalls her farming experiences without tractors and herbicides. “I often felt bad but could not have done it without my children, sometimes they could not go to school,” she adds. The International Labour Organisation of the United Nations estimates that 70 percent of all child labour is in agriculture, affecting 112 million children. Furthermore, despite the prevailing notion of labour being abundant in the Global South, agricultural labour shortages have become increasingly common in many regions due to ageing, outmigration and structural transformation.

For many farmers, labour-saving technologies such as mechanisation and herbicides are therefore very appealing. In Zambia, farmers like Precious Banda, using tractors for land preparation need only 10 hours per ha — as compared to 226 for non-mechanised farmers, as a recent study in Food Policy has shown. In Mali, a study by Steven Haggblade and co-authors from Michigan State University shows that herbicides reduce weeding workloads by up to 90 percent. In Burkina Faso, William Moseley from Macalester College and Eliza Pessereau from the University of Wisconsin-Madison found that herbicides are often referred to as “mothers’ little helpers”. It is not surprising that the adoption of such technologies has accelerated rapidly across the Global South. Steven Haggblade and co-authors speak about a “herbicide revolution”.

Labour-saving technologies can negatively affect biodiversity

But while appealing and beneficial to farmers, such technologies can negatively affect biodiversity. The case study in Zambia suggests that tractors allow farmers to cultivate more land, which is good for them but bad for the African savannah. A comparative study in Benin, Kenya, Nigeria and Mali published in Agronomy for Sustainable Development suggests that mechanisation can lead to the removal of on-farm trees and hedges and the altering of plot sizes and shapes, leading to a loss of farm diversity and landscape mosaics.

Precious Banda experiences confirm this. “When I first approached the tractor owners, they sent me away,” says the Zambian farmer, “I had to pay someone to remove a couple of trees and stumps and now they are happy to serve my fields.” The same has already happened in much of Europe and the US, among others. Agrochemicals can also have negative effects. Pesticides can affect insect populations, soil biota, groundwater, lakes, and rivers, in particular when unregulated and when management practices are poor.

… and biodiversity-friendly practices can increase labour burdens

At the same time, many solutions to make agriculture more biodiversity-friendly are often met with resistance from farmers. Many organic or agroecological farming practices that would be good for local biodiversity are not adopted by farmers because they come with a high labour burden.

In China, intercropping is said to suffer from a “slow death” due to labour shortages. In a meta-analysis led by Sigrun Dahlin from the Swedish University of Agricultural Sciences, planting basins were found to increase agricultural labour for land preparation by an astonishing 700 percent. A study in Zimbabwe by Leonard Rusinamhodzi, now with the International Institute of Tropical Agriculture (IITA), equates such solutions to “tinkering on the periphery”, as they create more problems than solutions for farmers. The increased labour burden of such technologies can be particularly pronounced for women.

Given these labour dynamics, it is not surprising that farmers typically adopt technologies and practices that ultimately lead them to a low-labour/low-biodiversity situation. This pattern has been observed across the world, first in the Global North but now increasingly in the Global South. In Indonesia, for example, our paper shows that farming systems have evolved toward oil palm monocultures with broadcast mechanical and chemical weed, pest and nutrient management, which are characterised by low labour intensity and high yields — but which are bad for biodiversity.

Biodiversity-smart solutions are good for nature and people

To successfully reconcile food production and biodiversity conservation, we need biodiversity-smart agriculture, which is high-yielding, requires little labour, and is biodiversity friendly. At the farm level, this requires efforts to reduce the biodiversity trade-offs associated with labour-saving technologies such as mechanisation and pesticides, and to reduce the labour trade-offs associated with biodiversity-friendly farming practices.

In parts of the Global North, one solution could be fleets of small agricultural robots, which help to overcome the yield penalties and labour requirements associated with agroecological farming, potentially leading to an ecological utopia as a recent article in Trends in Ecology and Evolution suggests.

In the Global South, less expensive solutions are needed. One potential solution is scale-appropriate mechanisation, where machines are adapted to farm size and not the other way around. This is because two-wheel and small four-wheel tractors are better suited to manoeu- vre around trees and hedges and other landscape features. In Arsi-Negele (Ethiopia), our paper shows that farming systems have evolved toward the low labour, low biodiversity, and high productivity scenario until the mid-1980s. But since then, they started to move to the low labour, high biodiversity, and high productivity scenario, through labour-saving technologies compatible with high biodiversity, as well as reforestation efforts.

With regard to pesticides, integrated pest management, which aims to reduce pesticide use with biological (e.g., crop rotations) and mechanical (e.g., precision sprayer) solutions could help to reduce trade-offs between yields, labour and biodiversity. In contrast, simply refraining from pesticides, would not be ideal as it decreases yields and therefore undermines land sparing. A recent review in the Annual Review of Resource Economics led by Eva-Marie Meemken, now at ETH Zürich, indicates that crop yields in organic farming are 19–25 percent lower than in conventional agriculture. Avoiding pesticides such as herbicides also comes with great labour needs, much of which is shouldered by women as discussed above.

Next to reducing the trade-offs of labour-saving technologies, such as mechanisation and pesticides, biodiversity-friendly measures are needed, including both production-integrated measures (e.g., patch cropping, intercropping) and set-aside measures (e.g., trees, hedges, flower strips). A recent study in Nature shows that tree islands can improve biodiversity in oil palm plantations in Indonesia, without compromising yields. But more research is needed to understand how such measures can be designed to minimise trade-offs regarding agricultural land and labour productivity.

In many cases, labour-saving technologies could help to increase the uptake of measures toward biodiversity conservation. For example, studies suggest that labour-saving mechanisation may be a missing link to a more widespread adoption of Conservation Agriculture, which is good for soil health and biodiversity. Similarly, smart mechanisation solutions could facilitate strip intercropping systems, which are labour-intensive in their manual form, and the management of hedges and flower strips.

Biodiversity-smart agricultural solutions reduce the trade-offs between socio-economic goals and biodiversity conservation for individual farmers, increasing the chances of adoption. This is key in the Global South, where many governments have few resources to otherwise compensate farmers for biodiversity-friendly farming. However, innovative certification or payments for ecosystem services schemes may still be needed where biodiversity conservation comes with more costs than benefits for individual farmers.

Ideally, such schemes should be designed to reward farmers for actual sustainability outcomes and not the practices pursued, and to take into account not only local but also global effects. Such farm-level solutions have to be accompanied by efforts at the landscape level, for example, land-use management to preserve biodiversity hotspots, habitat mosaics and patch connectivity. The case study from Ethiopia shows that multifunctional landscapes can be planned to “work for biodiversity and people”.

More efforts needed to scale up

Developing biodiversity-smart agricultural development requires paradigm shifts in both policymaking and research and development. For example, conservation ecologists must pay more attention to economic and social sustainability. Without explicitly accounting for labour issues, conservation efforts can hardly be successful. At the same time, agricultural scientists have to embrace multiple goals beyond yields.

Our paper shows that many solutions for biodiversity-smart agricultural development already exist. If they can be scaled, they can help us to feed the growing population, improve the livelihoods of millions, and protect the world’s remaining biodiversity conservation before it is too late. And for Precious Banda, the farmer in Zambia, they would allow her to continue her “easy life” as well as have her delightful dish with caterpillars and Bondwe.

Further Reading

Daum, T., F. Baudron, R. Birner, M. Qaim and I. Grass. 2023. Addressing agricultural labour issues is key to biodiversity-smart farming. Biological conservation 284: 110165.doi.org/10.1016/j.biocon.2023.110165.

Daum, T. 2021. Farm robots: ecological utopia or dystopia? Trends in ecology & evolution 36(9): 774-777. doi.org/10.1016/j.tree.2021.06.002.

This article is from issue

17.3

2023 Sep

What’s in a name? Changes in local names can reflect shifts in biodiversity and culture

Western science emphasises standard, universally agreed upon nomenclature for the natural world based primarily on morphology. In comparison, indigenous or tribal names are often based on animal or plant habitats, kinship systems, uses, relationships with humans and non-human species and/or mythology or taboos. For example, the local name given to the nectar-rich

Justicia californica plant by the Comcáac (Seri) tribe—Noj oopis—translates to “hummingbird’s suckings” and the O’odham tribe name for the same plant—Vipismal je:j—translates to “hummingbird’s mother”.

If regional names reflect the unique culture and local environment in which they are used and encode valuable knowledge about human societies and their interactions with biodiversity, then why might names change over time? Interviews with coastal fishers in the Sindhudurg district of Maharashtra conducted by Aditya Kakodkar found that the local names used for sea turtles in 2006 were different to those shared in a later study conducted by Andrea Phillott and Paloma Chandrachud in 2018.

Earlier, Kurma was used for the giant leatherback turtles, Tupalo for the common olive ridley turtles, and Kasai in reference to all other species. Twelve years later, the names Kaasav, Kasho, Kodam and Kachua were used interchangeably for all sea turtle species. The names have different origins: Kasai is of the regional dialect Konkani, Kaasav means turtles in the state language of Marathi, Kachua is from the northern Indic language Hindi, and Kurma is from the ancient and classical Indian language Sanskrit. Kasho, Kodam, and Tupalo as names for turtles are of unknown origin.

The 2018 study proposes four possible reasons for the changes in local names over time: a) the species of sea turtles encountered by fishers in local waters changed over time, b) the cultural significance of sea turtle species to fishers shifted in the period between the two studies, c) change in language over time, and/or d) the language in which the interview was conducted influenced fishers’ responses. Each of these reasons is of concern to people who value the local names for biodiversity.

Change in species presence or numbers

Knowledge encoded in local names for biodiversity is based on a large timescale and focused on a narrow and specific geographic area and therefore provides valuable, in-depth information about localised environments. Sometimes, these names convey knowledge of past phenomena that are no longer observed. Such a case is the name in the language Cmiique Iitom used by the Seri People to refer to an island in the middle of the Gulf of California – Tosni Iti Ihiiquet, which translates to “where pelicans have their offspring”. Breeding pelicans in the area have declined and don’t use the island in current times but historical records from a naturalist’s journal corroborate the accuracy of the Seri name.

Biodiversity has been declining at an alarming rate worldwide, with the current situation being labelled “the sixth mass extinction”. The major causes of this extinction event are anthropogenic—including pollution, habitat loss, hunting, overexploitation of natural resources, climate change, and introduction of invasive species. However, it is not only biodiversity that will be lost as more and more species become extinct; linguistic extinction will also occur.

This loss is already being recognised: declining specialised knowledge and vocabulary related to plants and animals among the Solega tribe of Karnataka is attributed in part to the introduction of the invasive plant Lantana camara that now dominates the landscape with its dense woody thickets, driving many shorter plants to local extinction. Culturally important herbs and shrubs have become rare and then absent from the immediate environment of the community and are, therefore, spoken about less. This disrupts the transmission of traditional knowledge to younger generations and results in a cultural loss of local names.

Shift in cultural significance of species and language

Cultural knowledge and names can diffuse—meaning items such as language, food and clothing, spread out and merge with pieces from different cultures—and erode—where core cultural elements are lost when replaced with other elements—due to environmental and social change. For instance, the root vegetable cassava had an integral role in the culture of the Amuesha tribe of the Central Peruvian Andes, featuring in their songs, myths and traditions, and being collected, cultivated and traded by the community. The value of cassava was reflected in the vast number of local names assigned to the different cultivated varieties of cassava.

Over time, however, there has been a shift in the cultural significance of cassava, with the younger generation focusing on market-viability and increasing cassava productivity using select varieties over maintaining the diverse range that was traditionally cultivated. Older generations attribute this attitude to the loss of traditional knowledge and language, within which the cultural value of cassava is encoded, through modern schooling. Indeed, there has been a shift in the dominant language used by cassava cultivators in the Peruvian region. Before 2000, cassava varieties were referred to by the indigenous names. In 2022, the names were primarily in Spanish or a combination of Spanish and the indigenous language.

Another case of shifting cultural significance of an indigenous language is evidenced by the Solegas described above. The word tho:pu to older Solegas refers to the tree dominated high-altitude forests that the Solega traditionally live in, while younger Solegas use the word to refer to groves or small clumps of trees. The latter is based on the word for “grove” in the state language Kannada, indicating attrition of their tribal language after increasing contact with mainstream Indian society and institutional pressures.

Similarly, the Amuesha describe displacement of traditional knowledge and indigenous language among younger people with increasing acculturation and assimilation with Spanish culture and modern schooling. There is an imminent risk of the disappearance of many of the world’s languages as well as the wealth of knowledge they carry with increasing migration, acculturation, and integration of linguistic minorities. Sadly, linguists have predicted the extinction of 50–90 percent of world languages by the end of this century. The loss of language will come with a great cost to our knowledge systems about biodiversity.

Influence of research language and method

Among the researchers conducting interviews in the 2018 study of fishers’ names for sea turtles, some spoke Marathi, the state language, and/or Hindi, the common northern Indic language. A few Marathi speakers also knew the regional dialect of Konkani and all were fluent in English. Fishers—who can also be multilingual—were given the choice of which language they wanted to speak during the interview. These conversations in multiple languages in their vicinity could have shaped the way fishers thought about the researchers (and their questions!) and shaped fishers’ cultural mindset when responding. We don’t know which language/s were used in the 2006 interviews, but a difference could also have contributed to the difference in local names used by fishers for sea turtles over time. Similarly, the demographics of fishers interviewed and the wording of the questions asked in the 2006 and 2018 studies may also have been different, resulting in the variation in names over time.

Conclusion

The knowledge that can be gained from understanding local names and the insights into cultural and ecological changes that can be inferred by examining changes in local vocabularies mean that conservationists need to be concerned about more than just threats to biological diversity. Loss of linguistic diversity will result in the loss of indigenous and tribal knowledge systems that are valuable for understanding the natural environment.

To understand, and prevent the loss of, ecological knowledge encoded in regional languages, academics from different fields—such as linguistics, ethnobiology, and ecology—must collaborate and form partnerships with local communities. In the case of the change in local names for sea turtles at Sagareshwar beach in Maharashtra, such collaboration could provide valuable perspectives on if and why the names changed and what this could imply. If the difference over time is the result of encountering fewer, or different species of, sea turtles changing cultural significance or research method, then understanding the cause of the change could determine whether conservation action is needed.

Further Reading

Gorenflo L. J., S. Romaine, R. A. Mittermeier and K. Walker-Painemilla. 2012. Co-occurrence of linguistic and biological diversity in biodiversity hotspots and high biodiversity wilderness areas. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 109(21): 8032-8037.

Phillott A. D. and P. Chandrachud. 2021. Fishers’ ecological knowledge (FEK) about sea turtle in coastal waters: A case study from Vengurla, India. Chelonian Conservation and Biology 20(2): 211-221.

Wilder B. T., C. O’Meara, L. Monti and G. P. Nabhan. 2016. The importance of indigenous knowledge in curbing the loss of language and biodiversity. BioScience 66(6): 499-509.

This article is from issue

17.3

2023 Sep

A Romp In The City

A once polluted isle where trees were few

Reforested and minimized its rate

Of bay pollution. Greater green and blue

Made Singapore the garden city state.

Pollution meant no otter romps. Today,

In Singapore, they roam the city streets.

No fishpond’s safe if owners are away:

The otter is not coy—koi’s what it eats!

Home owners losing koi may be displeased.

Ecologists, however, are beguiled:

Concern for wildlife would be greatly eased

If city life could coexist with wild …

To keep your koi from otters isn’t hard—

You just erect high walls around your yard!

This article is from issue

17.3

2023 Sep

What can we do about illegal trade within the cactus and succulent collector community?

It seems today that cactus and succulent plants are everywhere. Yet, despite their global popularity, many succulents face pressing conservation concerns. A 2015 study published in Nature Plants assessed that 31 percent of all cactus species are threatened with extinction based on IUCN Red List categories, and 47 percent of all cacti are harvested for horticultural and ornamental collection, much of which is for the international illegal trade. Many conservationists reckon that obsessive collectors are driving this trade. But why would people who are seemingly most passionate about these plants, engage in activities that harm them? And, how prevalent is such illegal behaviour among cactus and succulent collectors?

This research emerged through interdisciplinary conversations on how to analyse and assess the role of cactus and succulent collectors in potentially facilitating as well as hindering conservation efforts. Our research survey asked members of cactus and succulent societies about their familiarity and perspectives on current CITES trade regulations (i.e. the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora). Barring a few exceptions, the entire cactus family is listed in CITES Appendix II. This means that nearly all cactus plants require export paperwork for legal international trade, while trade in some species is almost entirely banned (Appendix I). The survey also asked direct and indirect questions about illegal behaviour, including directly transporting, purchasing, or shipping CITES-listed plants or seeds without appropriate export and/or import permits.

Our results suggest that around 12 percent of the 441 surveyed participants engaged in some form of illegal trade in cactus and other succulent species. While a minority of survey participants engaged in forms of illegal wildlife trade, it is important to note that those engaging in active rule-breaking tended to do so knowingly, and some justified their behaviour as beneficial for plant conservation. Of course, this will strike many as strange. How could someone argue for participating in illegal wildlife trade as a benefit to species conservation? Further, why does such behaviour persist when 75 percent of respondents—including 62 percent of those who directly acknowledged engaging in illicit behaviour—said illegal collection of cacti and succulents represents a “very serious problem” and two-thirds of respondents stated that wild succulent plant collection was on a rise?

Our results suggest that many within the cactus and succulent collecting hobby believe that the CITES trade restrictions make it harder for collectors to legally gain access to seeds and plant material which in turn drives illegal trade. This opinion appears widespread within the collector-hobbyist community. Further, because the likelihood of detection in many forms of illegal trade in cacti and succulents is generally low, and the repercussions for being caught are often minimal, the risks that collectors face by engaging in illegal behaviours are also perceived to be low. Our survey results also indicate that cactus and succulent collectors see themselves as playing an important role in conservation efforts. To this end, we conclude that despite the persistence of illegal behaviours, there are missed opportunities to develop deeper engagement between collector and conservation communities.

A key takeaway from our study is a need for parties to CITES to engage in more meaningful stakeholder consultation to avoid potentially sidelining would-be conservation allies. Most of our survey respondents show concern about species conservation, and many formal cactus and succulent organisations are actively invested in funding conservation efforts. From a practical perspective, the professional conservation community risks alienating this group of stakeholders by not taking into greater consideration the lasting demand many plant species hold within international collector communities. To put it simply, prohibition of trades may not further long-term species conservation goals.

Ensuring that legally-acquired, and sustainably-sourced cultivated plant material is available within international markets may prove a far more practical—if still controversial—approach to protecting wild cactus and succulent species than trade prohibition. We hope the results of this study can further productive discussions about how to best ensure that these much beloved wild species can thrive in perpetuity.

Further Reading

Margulies, J. D., F. R. Moorman, B. Goettsch, J. C. Axmacher and A. Hinsley. 2023. Prevalence and perspectives of illegal trade in cacti and succulent plants in the collector community. Conservation Biology: e14030. https://doi.org/10.1111/cobi.14030

Goettsch, B., C. Hilton-Taylor, G. Cruz-Piñón, J. P. Duffy, A. Frances, H.M. Hernández, R. Inger et al. 2015. High proportion of cactus species threatened with extinction. Nature plants 1(10): 1–7. https://doi.org/10.1038/nplants.2015.142

This article is from issue

17.3

2023 Sep

Wild tulips fight to survive in their ancestral home

Tulips are one of the world’s most well known spring flowers. Like all other garden plants, they have natural ancestors, and surprisingly these do not grow in the Netherlands—the country that exports the majority of horticultural tulips. In fact, most wild tulips can be found in the steppes, semi-deserts, and mountains of Central Asia, where over half of all known species of wild tulip grow. The number of wild tulips is dwarfed by the tens of thousands of horticultural varieties, yet the large number of species found in Central Asia makes this region a diversity hotspot for this plant group.

These wild tulip species harbour genetic resources that may be crucial for future breeding efforts, especially with respect to disease resistance and tolerance to climate change. They also act as indicators of overall ecosystem health, i.e. they provide an impor- tant signal if their habitat is being damaged. The flowers provide important resources and homes for insects, most notably supporting the insect populations that may also pollinate crop plants. Furthermore, wild tulips hold significant cultural value in this region, with local communities often possessing knowledge about where they occur close to their settlements. Therefore, they are a valuable asset, especially to local communities. However, limited understanding of natural diversity, the impact of climate change, and the effects of environmental disturbance have made it challenging to develop a solid conservation plan for these plants.

Since 2018, a team led by Fauna & Flora International has been proactively working on solving some of these issues. Specifically, I— Brett Wilson, a PhD student at the University of Cambridge and Dr. Sam Brockington the Curator of Cambridge University Botanic Garden—have been part of a research team that focuses on using technical knowledge and local expertise shared across organisations, to tackle these challenges. Sam and I have been working most closely with Bioresurs—a Kyrgyz conservation NGO, the National Academy of Sciences of the Kyrgyz Republic, and the Gareev Botanical Garden in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. Additionally, we have also developed collaborations across the region, including in Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and Kazakhstan. This includes a range of botanic gardens where we have actively expanded tulip collections, not only for public viewing but also for both scientific and conservation purposes—an often-overlooked role of global botanic garden plant collections.

The first task for our team was to improve our knowledge of tulip taxonomy. Without this fundamental information, conservationists struggle to appropriately target and obtain funding as well as carry out mitigation and management. In recent decades, it has become easier and cheaper to sequence DNA, and to use this information to infer whether the target plants are distinct species, and how these species are related to one another. Simultaneously, there has also been an increase in sources of tulip material, especially across the global botanic garden network.

Over the past four years, our team has collected and sequenced DNA from leaf material sourced from: an array of wild tulip populations in Central Asia, the living collections of several botanic gardens, and herbarium material—some of which was collected nearly a century ago. This allowed us to survey over 86 percent of all currently recognised species, as well as many plants collected under old names that are no longer recognised as species. Through this huge effort, we discovered the existence of a new subgenus, and reorganised many sections to simplify these groupings. Based on the data, we were able to reinstate several species, declassify some that are no longer considered separate species, and we also discovered a new species which we formally described in the summer of 2022.

Genetic data can be used to explore the evolutionary history of a plant group across millions of years. Understanding the history of tulips is important as it can allow us to identify the geographic origin of this plant, as well as begin to understand where, when, and why it diversified. In turn, this can help us pinpoint the areas of distribution that are most important for conservation as well as specify which species are the most genetically unique. We were able to show that wild tulips originated in the broader Central Asia region with the most recent common ancestor estimated to have existed here around 23 million years ago. In addition, we discovered that this part of the world was crucial for the diversification of wild tulips throughout their history. The explosion of different tulip species in Central Asia could be linked to aridification, development of large mountain ranges, and global cooling. Strikingly, we were also able to show that tulips most likely moved out of the region through the Kazakh and Russian steppes into the Caucasus, from where they spread into the Middle East, Mediterranean, eastern Europe, and Iran. Very few species seem to have made it south out of Central Asia due to historical barriers such as deserts and seas. Crucially, all this work demonstrated that Central Asia is both historically and currently important for tulips, emphasising the need to conserve these flowers and their habitats in the region.

Central Asia has seen several decades of instability, with the collapse of the Soviet Union leading to economic issues, border disagreements, and political uncertainty. Thus, Central Asian countries often struggle to collaborate on policy and management approaches. This is a major problem for biodiversity, which doesn’t abide by borders or nationality. Although individual countries (e.g., Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan) have undertaken national assessments of tulip diversity, few studies have looked at the region as a whole.

It is important to work at a larger scale in order to predict and protect wild tulips from the effects of global threats such as climate change. We used a large dataset comprising the location points of tulip populations to predict the impact of different climate change scenarios. Our findings pointed to vast reductions of suitable tulip habitat by 2050, including inside designated reserves. Our study predicted that most species would only survive at higher altitudes. Overall, not only did this work highlight the threat of climate change to biodiversity in the region, but it also provided important information to help policymakers and conservationists take action to protect tulip diversity. This will hopefully act as a rallying call for greater regional collaboration on this and other conservation efforts—especially those related to large-scale threats, such as climate change.

We felt that a good starting point to promote regional cooperation would be making use of the IUCN Red List. The online resource aids in raising awareness and catalysing action by indicating the conservation status of specific species. In order to add wild tulips to the Red List, we created a network of experts from across Central Asia. This ensured better communication, sharing of data, and collaboration—linking up a wealth of country-specific information—so that researchers could conduct a more cohesive, border-spanning assessment of tulip populations. This process took place in several stages: writing initial draft reports for each species, obtaining inputs from regional experts (at a workshop held in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan), asking an expert to review the reports, and finally, ensuring the reports met IUCN’s standard. These efforts led to collated information about the species’ population sizes, locations, threats, habitat, and required conservation action.

After around two years of hard work, we were able to ensure that reports for 53 species of wild tulips from Central Asia were published in December 2022. The reports showed that approximately 51 percent of all assessed Central Asian species are Threatened: six are Critically Endangered, six are Endangered, and 15 are Vulnerable species, with 14 other species considered Near Threatened. They highlight the precarious situation of wild tulips in Central Asia, especially as a result of livestock overgrazing and climate change. It is clear that urgent conservation attention is required, but we hope that the collaborations to date have brought together the people and information which will be fundamental in stopping the decline of these species.

At the moment, wild tulips continue to bloom in the Central Asian landscape every spring, yet our work shows that this may not always be the case. Although new species continue to be found in this mountainous haven, we may still be losing tulip diversity overall, potentially including many undescribed species. A stable taxonomic framework has now been established, which can hopefully underpin a wave of more effective research and conservation. Our partners have simultaneously been working on expanding botanic garden collections of wild tulips and promoting better management of pastures where they grow. We hope that our work will help preserve this beautiful flower in its native home, so that when spring rolls around once again, we will see the meadows, grasslands, and deserts alive with the colours of flowering tulips.

This article is from issue

17.3

2023 Sep

Wolves deserve our best science, not vilification

In the last several years, the hunting and trapping of grey wolves has increased dramatically in the “lower 48” states of the United States. A recently published paper (see Further Reading section at the end) authored by several of the nation’s leading biologists and wildlife advocates, found that there is a lack of data to justify this recent wave of lethal wolf management. This is the first peer-reviewed research of its kind since wolves were removed from the Endangered Species List in the Northern Rockies in 2020.

Below is an interview with authors Dr. Peter Kareiva, a member of the National Academy of Sciences and President and CEO of the Aquarium of the Pacific, and Elishebah Tate-Pulliam, a research assistant at the Aquarium of the Pacific and a previous recipient of the Aquarium’s African American Scholars award.

Q: Stepping back a bit, why did you personally get involved with the wolf issue? Running the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach, California, what led you to author a peer-reviewed analysis on an issue that is most central to the Northern Rocky Mountain States?

Peter: I joined the Aquarium of the Pacific because I love animals, am committed to conservation, and believe that our planet will thrive only if the public better understands and appreciates wild nature. Our current wolf management conundrum is a trenchant example of three factors: poor treatment of animals, poor conservation, and poor information. Of course I got involved—I used to call my beloved family dog “little wolf” as a puppy. And then there is the science. In 1997, I served on a National Academy Committee that examined the hunting of wolves in Alaska. What we found in Alaska foreshadows what is happening now in Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming—the Alaskan wolves were being unfairly blamed for doing much more damage to moose populations than the actual data revealed. Conservation, compassion, and a commitment to data drew me to the #RelistWolves Campaign—a grassroots coalition of conservationists, environmental nonprofit organisations, wildlife advocates, Native American tribes, and scientists. The campaign and its members have dedicated themselves to enhancing public understanding of wolves and ensuring their survival by advocating for one common goal: to restore the grey wolf to the Endangered Species List.

Elishebah: My undergraduate and graduate work included nothing about wolves or terrestrial conservation, but I did conduct research on ecosystem restoration in marine coastal systems. The reintroduction of wolves to western North America is one of the greatest successes of species reintroduction and ecosystem recovery. That caught my attention. So, when Dr. Kareiva invited me to join the wolf team, I couldn’t say yes fast enough. Like many people, I had my own view of wolves, but as a scientist, I wanted to learn more about their ecology and interaction with humans. In some way, wolves remind me of great white sharks, which I think of as wolves of the ocean—feared and vilified, yet magnificent animals.

Q: What are some of the benefits of wolves? Why are wolves so vital for our society and for nature?

Elishebah: As a keystone species, grey wolves are critical for maintaining healthy, resilient ecosystems and preserving biodiversity. We depend on these amazing animals to serve as ecosystem guardians. For example, wolves help keep herbivore populations, like deer and elk in check. Without predators, elk and deer can become so abundant that they overgraze, which in turn exacerbates soil erosion and produces heavy loads of sediment in streams.

Keystone species
The concept of “keystone species” can be traced to R.T.Paine, who introduced the idea after conducting field experiments in which the removal of starfish from rocky intertidal communities in Washington State, USA, led to a transformed intertidal zone blanketed with mussels, whereas in the presence of starfish intertidal rocks were covered with barnacles, sea palms, mussels, anemones, and other “space-holders”. “Keystone” is a metaphor for a species that holds the ecosystem together, much like the keystone at the top of a stone arch. Some species are more equal than others, and keystone species are those organisms which, if deleted from an ecosystem, the ecosystem shifts to a totally different state with a cascade of impacts that dramatically alter the abundances of other species. Without its “keystone”, a stone arch collapses into rubble. The elimination of these species in nature can prompt surprising and far-reaching changes or collapses in the local environment. Examples of keystone species include sea otters, elephants, sharks, certain diseases, and of course humans! Unfortunately, human activities have tended to deplete and in some cases locally extinguish keystone species throughout the world, largely because keystone species are most often predators at the top of food chains and are thus viewed by humans as dangerous or as competition.

Elishebah: As a keystone species, grey wolves are critical for maintaining healthy, resilient ecosystems and preserving biodiversity. We depend on these amazing animals to serve as ecosystem guardians. For example, wolves help keep herbivore populations, like deer and elk in check. Without predators, elk and deer can become so abundant that they overgraze, which in turn exacerbates soil erosion and produces heavy loads of sediment in streams.

Peter: Elishebah is exactly right. The best documented case study comes from Yellowstone National Park, where wolves were reintroduced in 1995. The return of wolves changed elk behaviour, keeping them on the move, which in turn allowed young willow and aspen plants to survive when previously they would have been browsed by elk. The return of these plants then helped beaver populations recover, and helped reduce sediments in streams. A less commonly appreciated benefit of wolves is their prudent predation of sick and diseased animals.

For example, chronic wasting disease has been spreading among elk and deer populations in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, and wildlife biologists hypothesise that wolves could play a valuable role in removing sick and infectious animals, thereby slowing the spread of this deadly brain disease.

Q: What is wrong with current wolf management policies?

Peter: Extreme wolf hunts in states like Idaho, Montana, and Wisconsin have shocked many wildlife biologists because of how many wolves were killed in such a short period of time. In only six months of the 2021–2022 hunting season in Montana, at least 25 wolves from Yellowstone were killed when they wandered outside the park boundary—a number that represents one-fifth of the federally protected Yellowstone wolf population. Even more dramatic is the killing spree in early 2021 of at least 216 wolves in Wisconsin over a three-day period. The zeal with which hunters killed wolves clearly overwhelmed Wisconsin’s Department of Natural Resources. By the time the hunt was shut down, at least 97 more wolves had been killed than the state-mandated quota of 119 wolves. More generally, we found that data surrounding the benefits of wolves typically has not been incorporated into state-level wolf management decisions. Also, when state agencies formulate their wolf policies, it does not appear that they gave much weight to the collateral damage associated with rampant trapping and hunting of wolves.

Elishebah: Creating effective management policies for wolves is complicated. Firstly, wolves are predators and there’s no denying that wolves kill both wild and domesticated animals as they go about their business of being a wolf. That said, data indicate wolves much prefer wild prey to domesticated cattle and sheep. Human societies have a long history of treating predators like wolves as vermin. Before the arrival of European colonists, wild nature thrived in harmony with Native Americans, and wolves were abundant throughout North America. That all changed as western colonists spread across the continent hunting, trapping, and poisoning wolves to near extinction. But now as wolves make a comeback, they encounter a landscape filled with human activities. This renews opportunities for wolf-human conflict and in turn has created the threat of a second round of persecution and wolf slaughter.

Unfortunately, our protest of the wolf slaughter is seen by some as an attack on hunters. It is not an attack on hunters. We know that hunters are often great conservationists. We also recognise that hunting is a cultural legacy for many westerners, and any ban on hunting might be interpreted as an infringement on the rights of hunters. I certainly agree that hunters have rights. But animals also have rights. Ethical hunters respect animal rights when they embrace the principle of fair chase. However, no one would call baiting, trapping, running wolves down with packs of dogs and ATVs, and night-vision hunting a fair chase.

Q: You have mentioned poor information— what did you mean by that?

Peter: That’s a great question. First, there is huge uncertainty about how many wolves there are, how many have been killed in the recent hunting spree, and how frequently wolves have preyed on livestock. We think there are around 6,000 wolves left in the lower 48 states as of last year, but credible analyses of the uncertainty of this estimate have not appeared in the scientific literature. We are not even sure how many wolves have been killed over the last two years—we think it is around 1200. However, because of poor data transparency, under-reporting, and poaching, we worry the 1200 number is an underestimate. Finally, when we attempted to quantify wolf impact on livestock, we ran into difficulties. We examined the US Department of Agriculture’s data on livestock killings in our analysis and found that it’s only published about every five years and includes livestock deaths that are only presumed wolf kills, not necessarily confirmed wolf kills. The bottom line is this: the current justification for wolf hunts is based on data that is inconsistent and unevenly reported. It is my strong belief that given the precarious status of wolves, no hunting should be allowed until we have more transparent and accurate data. In the absence of such data, prudence tells us to be cautious before we sanction such widespread slaughter of wolves.

Q: What do you say to the tens of thousands of farmers and ranchers throughout the US who claim that they must kill wolves, In certain instances, to protect the well-being of themselves and their livestock?

Elishebah: Firstly, I understand the desire to protect one’s livelihood. Ranching is a tough business: droughts, fires, diseases, extreme temperatures, and predators can cause a rancher to lose income. At a more personal level, I am sure ranchers are upset whenever one of their cattle or sheep are killed. For this reason, ranchers should have their concerns heard and addressed—and they are. I wonder, however, if the ranching community has an accurate view of the deaths caused by wolves in the context of all the undesired deaths that their livestock suffer? To provide some context regarding this concern: the number of sheep and cattle killed by wolves never exceeded 0.21 percent and 0.05 percent of unwanted deaths in Idaho, Wyoming, Montana, and Wisconsin, according to the 2020 USDA report on sheep and 2015 report on cattle. Causes other than wolves made up the vast majority of unwanted livestock deaths. Why are we vilifying wolves for their attacks on livestock, when in fact theirpredation on livestock is minor compared to all the other factors?

Peter: We understand the challenge that independent ranchers have, which is why we advocate for conflict reduction (which has proven effective) and reimbursement programs. Our point is simply that killing wolves should be a last resort, not the first option.

Q: You mentioned conflict reduction, what can this look like in practice?

Peter: There are a wide variety of effective non-lethal wolf management techniques. Ancient techniques like fladry, which entails creating a perimeter of colourful flags around livestock, combined with contemporary techniques like strobe lights and loud noises have proven effective at deterring wolves. In addition to these tried and true methods, some recent non-lethal innovations promise even greater success going forward. I just learned about this idea of infusing carcasses of cattle with cocktails of nauseating chemicals. When the wolf eats this cattle carcass, it feels sick and develops a learned aversion to cattle. That clever innovation is exemplary of the creative ideas we should be exploring in order to avoid primitive lethal approaches.

Elishebah: One idea is establishing programs that reward ranchers who invest in conflict reduction. This can complement programs that compensate ranchers who have lost livestock to wolves.

Q: Does the killing of wolves ever evolve into the killing of other, non-targeted species so to speak? If so, can you explain?

Elishebah: Attempts to deplete wolf populations often result in wolf hunters and trappers accidentally shooting and trapping dogs and other “non-target” species. Nearly one non-target animal was accidentally trapped for every wolf trapped in Idaho from 2012 to 2019, including threatened and endangered species. In Montana during the hunting seasons of 2018– 2020, half of all non-target species accidentally caught in traps were domestic dogs.

Q: Is there anything being done to advocate for wolf protection? What can readers do to get involved?

Peter: The Biden Administration is conducting a status review with the chance to restore federal protections to ALL grey wolves. Relisting wolves is the only way to stop brutal state-led hunts before it is too late. In the long term, we need to pursue coexistence with wolves, as well as coexistence with the many other “dangerous” animals that were once endangered but are now recovering. We have learned how to save and restore wildlife—now we need to learn how to live with wildlife. Write your congressional representatives and encourage them to pay attention and care. Support organisations that strive to protect wolves and other wildlife.

Elishebah: Dr. Kareiva mentions what amounts to advocacy. As a recently graduated student, I think education and communication are key. We need to escape the tyranny of an “us versus wolves” mentality to an “us and wolves” mindset. Moving toward this change in mentality is what we are working towards with the #RelistWolves Campaign. I’d encourage folks to visit RelistWolves.org for more information on the campaign and how they can take action.

Further Reading

Estes, J. A., J. Terborgh, J. S. Brashares, M. E. Power, J. Berger, W. J. Bond, W. J. Carpenter et al. 2011. Trophic downgrading of planet Earth. Science 333(6040): 301– 306. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.1205106

Eisenberg, C. 2013. The wolf’s tooth: keystone predators, trophic cascades, and biodiversity. Washington DC: Island Press.

Kareiva, P., S. K. Attwood, K. Bean, D. Felix, M. Marvier, M. L. Miketa and E. Tate-Pulliam. 2022. A new era of wolf management demands better data and a more inclusive process. Conservation Science and Practice: e12821. https://doi.org/10.1111/csp2.12821.

This article is from issue

17.3

2023 Sep

Sleuths on a dog hunt

Asiatic wild dogs (dholes) are group-living carnivores found in the forests of South and Southeast Asia. They are generally shy, elusive, and very sensitive to human disturbance. But in the Valparai plateau of India’s Western Ghats, they live alongside people in human-modified habitats such as tea and coffee plantations. How do dholes live in such areas? Are they not scared of humans? Have they changed their behaviours and habits to adapt? In a quest to answer these and many other questions, I travelled to Valparai earlier this year to understand the secret lives of dholes in this unique landscape. 

Within a week of my arrival in Valparai, I had seen a lot of wild animals including Nilgiri langurs, lion-tailed macaques, gaurs and even elephants living alongside people in tea and coffee plantations. I found myself constantly amazed at the incredible adaptability of these large animals that were living in ‘human spaces’. I started interacting and engaging with the local residents who lived or worked within tea and coffee estates, almost incessantly enquiring about their last dhole sighting or their knowledge about the dholes’ movements and whereabouts. 

The contrasting accounts left me rather surprised. One person reported seeing dholes 13-14 times in a year, while their neighbour had never seen a dhole in the 10 years they had lived in that area. People’s accounts of dhole sightings and their enthusiasm in sharing information about the species was heartening. Most were amazed at how well co-ordinated a dhole pack was and how well they communicated with each other to bring down large prey such as sambar deer. 

Conducting field surveys to look for dholes. Photo: Ajith R

Often overshadowed by other charismatic species they co-occur with, dholes have largely been overlooked in terms of research and conservation. This was also evident in my conversations with the people of Valparai. At the end of each conversation, they would almost invariably ask me if I also wanted information about leopards or elephants. When I told them that I was only looking for information on dholes, I would get puzzled looks; they would even ask, “Why do you want information on dholes when there are so many leopards and elephants here?” Some would admit that they have only ever had researchers ask them about leopards and elephants, but this is the first time someone is asking them about wild dogs. 

Dholes are listed as ‘Endangered’ by the IUCN and their populations have experienced significant declines across their range. Their largest population occurs in India, and so far, most research on dholes here has focused on populations inside protected areas.

Based on the information I gathered from the local residents, I started looking for signs of dhole movement (scat and tracks) in areas where they frequented. Initially my instincts told me to look for signs in locations closer to forest fragments because there was no way that dholes would venture too close to places where humans lived or worked. Subsequently, I started combing the plantations—tea bushes, swampy areas with small streams adjacent to forest fragments and grounds that had been cleared for annual football tournaments. 

I found dhole scats in all these locations, as well as along the roads of tea estates that were heavily used by plantation workers. Despite having heard of high dhole activity in these areas, I was still very surprised at what I was seeing. Apart from dhole scats, I also found signs of leopards, sloth bears, elephants, and gaurs on these same paths. The people in Valparai were sharing space with big carnivores and mega-herbivores on a daily basis.  

My field assistant and I investigating the sambar carcass the dholes had been feeding on. Photo: Abraham Pious

It had been almost three weeks since I had arrived in Valparai. I had seen a lot of dhole signs all over the landscape, but the dholes themselves continued to elude me. I connected with local naturalists who took me to more locations where they had frequent dhole sightings. Again, I found an abundance of indirect signs but no dholes. 

One morning in the last week of January, we were in the eastern part of the plateau where the dholes had killed a sambar around two weeks earlier. As I meticulously inspected the skull of the sambar, I felt a bit restive, wondering if I would see any dholes in Valparai at all. At that very moment, my field associate received a phone call about a sighting of a pack feeding on an ungulate inside a dam around 20km away. It would take us 40 minutes to get there, and the dholes would have probably finished their meal and moved on by then. But that was a risk we were willing to take; we were desperate. 

As expected, yet to our disappointment, we missed seeing the dholes by the time we reached. Upon inspecting the kill site, we found the damp soil covered in fresh tracks of several dholes and a sambar. We suspected that there had been a chase before the hunt in that location. As we followed the tracks, our suspicions were confirmed when we found the extremely well-camouflaged carcass of the sambar that the dholes had been feeding on. Luckily, there was some meat still left on the carcass, which meant that the pack would likely come back to finish it off. 

Dholes are diurnal animals, with peak activity at crepuscular hours (i.e., dawn and dusk). It was presently getting hot with the sun looming high, roasting up the open, dry reservoir bed. We decided to return to the site at around 4pm. Later that day, stationed on an elevated path that overlooked the dam, we eagerly waited. An hour passed and the sun started to set. The air around us cooled down but there was no sign of the pack. Minutes later, I felt a tap on my shoulder and my field associate excitedly pointed at the path below. A single dhole went trotting towards the sambar kill. Within seconds, seven more dholes followed. We watched in fascination for 20 minutes, as they tore into every last bit of meat from the carcass. Once they finished their meal, they headed back to the tea bushes where they had emerged from. And with that, I had seen my first ever dhole pack in Valparai.  

A pack of 8 dholes feeding on a sambar carcass. Photo: Sabiya Sheikh

A mere five minutes after the dholes had disappeared, a tea estate worker walked down the same path, completely unaware that they were treading the same path that a pack of carnivores did, just moments ago. Agroforests like coffee and tea plantations have been predicted to play an important role in maintaining connectivity between source populations of dholes in the protected areas of the Western Ghats. In Valparai, these habitats are doing more than just maintaining connectivity; they are providing space for dholes to live, hunt, rest and reproduce. The sighting left me feeling excited about finding out the myriad ways in which wild dogs are adapting and cohabiting the landscape with the wonderful people of Valparai. This project is part of Wildlife Conservation Society-India and The Dhole Project’s efforts to conserve dhole populations in India. 

वाळवंट आणि समुद्रातून यात्रा

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वायव्य मेक्सिकोतील बाजा कॅलिफोर्नियाचे मध्यवर्ती वाळवंट जितके अक्षम्य आहे तितकेच सुंदर आहे. स्वप्नासारख्या भूमीवर शतकानुशतके जुन्या निवडुंग वनस्पती (Pachycereus pringlei) आणि बुजम वृक्ष (Fouquieria columnaris) यांचे वर्चस्व आहे, त्यांचे इंग्रजीतील सामान्य नाव लुईस कॅरोलच्या “हंटिंग ऑफ द स्नार्क” या पुस्तकातून योग्यप्रकारे घेतलेले आहे. कडक उन्हाळ्यात तापमान ५० अंश सेल्सियसपेक्षा जास्त वाढते. हिवाळ्यात सहसा शून्य अंशच्या खाली घसरते आणि वार्षिक १००-३०० मिमी दरम्यान पाऊस पडतो. प्रशांत महासागरातील थंडगार पाणी कॅलिफोर्नियाच्या उष्णकटिबंधीय आखातामध्ये वसला आहे. पाच प्रजातीच्या सागरी कासवांचे घर, प्रशांत महासागरातील खाडीमधील राखाडी देवमासा (Eschrichtius robustus) यासह विविध सागरी सस्तन प्राणी, असंख्य मासे आणि अपृष्ठवंशी प्राण्यांनी समृद्ध आणि विपुल आहे.

कोपऱ्यात स्थित असणाऱ्या या भूप्रदेशात मानवाने सुमारे १२,००० वर्षे वस्ती केली. कोचीमी जमातीचे लोक भटके, कोळी आणि शिकारी होते.  ते ऋतुमानानुसार फिरत असत. त्यांचा प्रवास जमिनीवरील आणि समुद्रातील पाण्याच्या स्रोतामध्ये होत होता. १८व्या शतकात युरोपीय संपर्कानंतर कोचीमी स्थिरावले. दरम्यान उद्भवलेल्या साथीच्या रोगांमुळे आणि दुष्काळामुळे त्यांच्या दोन पिढ्यांमधील लोकसंख्या ९० टक्क्यांनी घटली. पुढील शतकांत कोचीमी लोकांचे वंशज, स्पॅनिश व मेक्सिकन वसाहतकार, त्यानंतर मेक्सिको, युरोप, अमेरिका, चीन आणि जपान या देशांच्या विविध प्रदेशांतून स्थलांतरित झाल्याने एक बहुजातीय समाज निर्माण झाला.  त्यांनी संपूर्ण द्वीपकल्पात लहान, विखुरलेले समुदाय आणि कुरणे स्थापन केली. आजपर्यंत, या एकाकी प्रदेशात लोकसंख्येची घनता प्रति चौरस किलोमीटर सुमारे दोन लोकांची आहे, जी जगातील सर्वात कमी आहे.

गेल्या दहा वर्षांपासून मध्यवर्ती वाळवंटात काम करण्याचे भाग्य मला लाभले. अशा लोकांकडून शिकायला मिळाले ज्यामुळे ते केवळ येथे टिकून राहिले नाहीत तर निसर्गाबद्दलचे त्यांचे तपशीलवार ज्ञानामुळे कठोर वातावरणातही  त्यांच जीवन भरभरून गेले.  मी दोन्ही किनाऱ्यावरील तरबेज मासेमाऱ्यासोबत काम केले.  भूतकाळात महासागरांची पुनर्रचना करण्याचा प्रयत्न करण्यासाठी आणि ते कसे बदलले आहेत यासाठी होते. जर संशोधन उपलब्ध पर्यावरणीय माहितीच्या संचापुरते मर्यादित असेल तर वैज्ञानिक भूतकाळातील जैवविविधतेच्या किंवा विपुलतेच्या परिमाणाला कमी लेखू शकतात.  या प्रदेशात सामान्यत: ३० वर्षांपेक्षा कमी कालावधीचे असते. ही घटना “शिफ्टिंग बेसलाइन सिंड्रोम” म्हणून ओळखली जाते. समुद्री कासवे आणि विशेषत: हिरव्या कासवांनी (Chelonia mydas) हजारो वर्षांपासून या प्रदेशातील रहिवाशांसाठी अन्न आणि औषध म्हणून मूलभूत भूमिका बजावली आहे. सर्वात जुन्या मच्छीमारांनी आज आपण जे पाहतो त्यापेक्षा खूपच वेगळा समुद्र पाहिला आहे.  काळानुसार हिरव्या कासवांची संख्या, अधिवासात झालेले  बदल आहेत याबद्दलचे त्यांचे ज्ञान वर्तमान समजून घेण्यासाठी आणि भविष्यातील आव्हानांना सामोरे जाण्यासाठी महत्त्वपूर्ण आहे.

डॉन कार्लोस यांनी १९४० च्या दशकाच्या सुरुवातीला पॅसिफिक किनाऱ्यावर समुद्री कासवमार म्हणून काम करण्यास सुरुवात केली. तो आणि त्याचे वडील ओजो दे लिबरे सरोवरातील एका निर्जन बेटावर काही आठवडे घालवत असत आणि एका छोट्याशा बोटीतून हिरव्या रंगाची कासवे शोधत असत. हा सरोवरा खोल कालवे आणि विस्तृत उथळपणासाठी ओळखला जातो.  कासव पकडण्यासाठी केवळ वाहतुकीचे नाही तर वारा, प्रवाह आणि भरती-ओहोटीची अचूक परिस्थितीसुद्धा तितकीच आवश्यक आहे. पृष्ठभागावरील पाण्यातील सर्वात लहान लहरींमुळे दृश्यमानतेत अडथळा निर्माण झाला, म्हणून शांत वारे आणि स्थिर पाणी यासह केवळ अष्टमीच्या भरती वेळीच मासेमारी शक्य होती. पकडलेली कोणतीही कासवे खारट केली जात असत आणि त्यांची चरबी तेलात उकळली जात असे. गोड्या पाण्याचा कोणताही स्रोत नसताना, त्यांनी तेलाचे डबे आणि तांब्याच्या नळ्यांपासून समुद्राच्या पाण्याला पिण्यायोग्य केलं.  एलआर्को या जवळच्या खेड्यापर्यंत प्रवास यशस्वी चालेपर्यंत पुरेसे खारट मांस उपलब्ध असायचे. 

ते दीड दिवस गाढव किंवा खेचराने प्रवास करत असत. सोबत सुमारे २० किलो सागरी कासव भरलेले काही महिने न खराब होता टिकू शकत होते आणि एकाकी प्रदेशात किंवा खाणींच्या शहरांत खाण्यासाठी असत. एलआर्कोमध्ये, मांसबीन्स, तांदूळ, कॉफी किंवा गव्हाचे पीठ यासारख्या रेशनच्या बदल्यात कासव विकले जात असे.  त्याकाळी समुद्री कासव पकडण्यावर अनेक घटकांनी बंदी घातली होती.  मूठभर लोकांची वस्ती असणाऱ्या काही शहरातून किंवा कुरणेपुरती कासवांची मागणी मर्यादित होती. मासेमारीसाठी सरोवराचे तपशीलवार ज्ञान, विलक्षण कौशल्य आणि धोक्याचे कोणतेही लहान मोजमाप आवश्यक नव्हते. डॉन कार्लोस आणि त्याचे वडील हे एकमेव मच्छीमार होते जे किमान ५० चौरस सागरी मैल क्षेत्रात काम करत होते.

डॉन इग्नासियो १९५० मध्ये कॅलिफोर्नियाच्या आखातातील मिडरिफ बेटांवर आला. त्याचे कुटुंब तब्बल दोन आठवडे गाढवावरून प्रवास करत होते. एका मरुभूमीपासून किंवा वसंत ऋतूपासून दुस-या भागापर्यंत मासेमारीसाठी योग्य जागा शोधत होते. त्याच्या सुरुवातीच्या काळात दोन – तीन लोकांचा गट तासन्तास किंवा काही दिवस दूरवरच्या मासेमारीच्या छावण्यांमध्ये रांगा लावून जात असत, जिथे ते एकतर कासवांनी आपल्या बोटी भरेपर्यंत किंवा अन्न-पाणी संपेपर्यंत राहत असत.  पथ-निर्देशकाचे कौशल्य अत्यंत महत्त्वाचे होते. वाऱ्यातील विश्वासघातकी प्रवाह आणि बदल वाचावेत, येणाऱ्या वादळांचा अंदाज बांधणे आणि वाळवंटाच्या किनाऱ्यावरील (निर्जन असले तरी) बंदरांना सुरक्षित करण्यासाठी कामगारांना मार्गदर्शन करणे याचा अर्थ जीवन आणि मृत्यू यांच्यातील फरक असू शकतो. मासेमारी चांगली असताना फेऱ्या कमी वेळाच्या असत. जेव्हा मासेमारी कमी किंवा वारा वादळामुळे जाण पूर्णपणे थांबत होते.  वाळवंटातील किनाऱ्याचे तपशीलवार ज्ञान त्यांना पाणी पुरवठा करण्यास मदत करू शकले. कधीकधी लहान झरे किंवा हंगामी तलावांमधून पुरविले जाते. शिकार करण्याच्या कौशल्यांमुळे अन्नपुरवठा वाढण्यास मदत होऊ शकले. मच्छीमार समुद्री कासवाची चरबी आणि समुद्राच्या पाण्याने चपात्या करत असत. हरिण (Odocoileus hemionus) आणि मेंढी (Ovis canadensis) सारख्या शिकाऱ्यामुळे खारवून खाल्ले जाऊ शकणारे मांस छावणीत दिले जात असे. 

मच्छीमारांनी प्रामुख्याने हिरव्या कासवांना अत्यंत निवडक पद्धतीने पकडले: हार्पूनिंग. समुद्री कासवांचे वर्तन आणि जीवशास्त्र यांच्या काळजीपूर्वक निरीक्षणावर आधारित असलेल्या या कलेला प्रचंड कौशल्याची गरज होती कारण कासवे विकत घेऊन त्यांची जिवंत वाहतूक करावी लागत असे. रात्रीच्या वेळी पाण्याच्या पृष्ठभाग उजळवाण्यासाठी कमानीवर तेलाचा दिवा लावून काम चालत असत. हार्पून बोटवाहकाला दिशा दाखवत असे आणि कासवाचे कवच न फोडता किंवा फुप्फुसांवर आदळल्याशिवाय छिद्र पाडण्यासाठी पुरेशा शक्तीने हार्पून काम करत असे. उन्हाळ्यामध्ये कासवे जेव्हा फिरत असतात आणि पृष्ठभागाजवळ वेळ घालवतात तेव्हा लहान, हलक्या वजनाच्या हार्पूनचा वापर केला जात असे.  हिवाळ्यातील महिन्यांमध्ये जेव्हा कासवे समुद्रतळावर सुप्तावस्थेत असत तेव्हा वजनदार टोकांसह लांब हार्पूनचा वापर केला जात असे.

हिरवी कासवं अमेरिकेच्या सीमेजवळ ८०० किलोमीटर दूर बाजारात पाठवण्यात आली.  परिस्थितीनुसार वाळवंटातील प्रवास दोन दिवस ते दोन आठवडे लागू शकतात.  समुदायासाठी समुद्री कासव हे मुख्य अन्न होते.  एक कासव २० लोकांना खाण्यास सहजपणे पुरत होते. त्याचे मांस खारवून अनेक आठवडे टिकवले जाऊ शकते. काहीही वाया जात नसत.  गाळलेल्या चरबीचा वापर स्वयंपाकासाठी आणि औषध म्हणून केला जात असे. प्राण्याचा प्रत्येक भाग – कवचसुद्धा जो जिलेटीन सुसंगततेसाठी उकळला जाऊ शकतो तोही वापरला जात असे.  छोटी लोकसंख्या, मासेमारीची आणि वाहतुकीची अडचण, बाजारपेठेच्या मर्यादित मागणीमुळे शिकार एका विशिष्ट स्थरावर होती. पण, लवकरच परिस्थिती बदलेल. १९६०पासून अमेरिका-मेक्सिको सीमेवरील शहरांमध्ये झालेल्या वाढीमुळे सागरी कासवांच्या मांसाची बाजारपेठेतील मागणी वाढली. विशिष्ट जाळ्यांचा वापर सुरू केल्यामुळे कासवे सहजपणे आणि अधिक संख्येने पकडली जाऊ लागली. वाढत्या अश्वशक्तीच्या जोरावर शक्तिशाली मोटारीमुळे कर्मचाऱ्यांना आणखी वेगाने पुढे जाण्याची मुभा मिळाली आणि वाऱ्यात किंवा जोरदार प्रवाहांमध्ये अडकण्याचा धोका कमी झाला. १९७०च्या दशकाच्या सुरुवातीला बांधण्यात आलेल्या या पक्क्या मध्यवर्ती महामार्गामुळे बाजारपेठेच्या केंद्रांकडे जाणारा प्रवास दिवसागणिक कमी झाला. बाजारपेठेतील मागणी, बाजारपेठेतील प्रवेश आणि सुधारित मासेमारी तंत्रज्ञान या ‘परिपूर्ण वादळा’मुळे मोठ्या प्रमाणावर कासवांची पकड झाली आणि त्यामुळे दोन दशकांत त्यांची संख्या जवळजवळ नामशेष होण्याच्या मार्गावर आली.

हिरव्या कासवांच्या मागील लोकसंख्येचा अंदाज लावण्यासाठी मच्छिमारांबरोबर काम करून आणि त्यांना पर्यावरणीय आकडेवारीशी समाकलित करून, मी आणि माझ्या सहकाऱ्यांनी या प्रदेशातील ७०वर्षांहून अधिक हिरव्या कासवांच्या संख्येच्या स्थितीची पुनर्रचना केली आहे.  निश्चितच एक चांगली बातमी आहे. ४०वर्षांपेक्षा जास्त काळ संरक्षणाच्या प्रयत्नांनंतर कासवांची संख्या वाढत आहे (दक्षिण मेक्सिकोमधील समुद्रकिनारे १९८०पासून संरक्षित केले गेले आहेत आणि १९९०पासून मेक्सिकोमधील समुद्री कासव पकडण्यावर पूर्णपणे बंदी घालण्यात आली आहे). तथापि, संख्या ऐतिहासिक आधारभूत पातळीपर्यंत पोहोचली नाही आणि समुद्री कासवांना हवामान बदलामुळे वाढत्या धोक्यांचा सामना करावा लागतो जे कि थेट मानवी प्रभावांपेक्षा कमी करणे अधिक कठीण आहे. मासेमारी करणारे समुदाय आणि समुद्री कासवे यांना वेगाने बदलणाऱ्या या ग्रहाच्या आव्हानांचा सामना करावा लागत असल्याने, पिढ्यानपिढ्या मिळवलेले ज्ञान भविष्यातील अभ्यासक्रमांची आखणी करण्यासाठी महत्त्वपूर्ण ठरेल.

मूळ इंग्रजी लेखिका – मिशेल मारिया अर्ली कॅपिस्ट्रान

अनुवादक – राघवेंद्र वंजारी 

चित्रे – अथुल्या पिल्लई 

This article is from issue

16.2

2022 Jun

जैवविविधतेच्या नोंदीसाठी ध्वनीशास्त्र

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इकोएकॉस्टिक (पर्यावरणाचे ध्वनी शास्त्र) म्हणजे पर्यावरणातील विवध आवाजांचा, ध्वनींचा अभ्यास करणारी ज्ञान शाखा जगासमोर आली आहे.  हे एक उदयोन्मुख आंतरविद्याशाखीय शास्त्र असुन नैसर्गिक तसेच मानवनिर्मित ध्वनी आणि त्यांचे पर्यावरणाशी असलेले संबंध वेळ आणि जागेच्या मापणीवर तपासते.  यामध्ये मुख्यतः पर्यावरणीय क्षेत्रांचा समावेश होऊन, लोकसंख्या, अधिवास, भौगोलिक प्रणाली अभ्यासली जाते.  त्याचबरोबर जमीन आणि सागरी  दोन्ही या क्षेत्रांत हा अभ्यास विस्तारला जात आहे. इकोएकॉस्टिक मध्ये आवाजाचे सूक्ष्म अध्ययन करून त्याचे स्वरूप, गुणधर्म, उत्क्रांती आणि पर्यावरणातील त्याच्या कार्यातील तपास केला जातो. ध्वनीला एक पर्यावरणीय गुणधर्म म्हणून देखील मानले जात असल्याने पर्यावरणातील विविधता,  वातावरणात, विपुलता, प्राण्यांची गतिशीलता व वर्तवणुकिच्या व्यापक तपासण्यासाठी उपयोग केला जातो.  याच शास्त्राच्या आधारे संशोधकांनी जैविक विविधता कशी अभ्यासली आहे ती पाहूया. 

निसर्गाचा आवाज तुम्ही ऐकला आहात का? पर्यावारातील विविध घटकांचा आवाज तुमच्या कानी पडला असेल ना ! जस बेडकाचे डर्याव डर्याव, किड्यांची कुरकुर आणि झाडावर गाणाऱ्या पक्ष्यांचा आवाज आपल्याला निसर्गाच्या जवळ घेऊन जातात.  हाच आवाज जैवविविधतेवर बारकायीने लक्ष ठेवण्याची एक सुयोग्य संशोधनाची पद्धत देखील ठरू शकते.  आर्थिक दृष्ट्या परवडणारे, स्वयंचलित ध्वनिमुद्रक (रेकॉर्डर) आजकाल बाजारात मोठ्या प्रमाणात उपलब्ध झाले आहेत ज्यामुळे संशोधकांना ‘साऊंडस्केप’ किंवा एखाद्या भुभागावरील ध्वनींचा संग्रह जलद गतीने तपासता येतो.  अभ्यासातून असे समजले आहे कि प्रवाळ किनाऱ्यापासून शेतजमिनिपर्यंत सर्वप्रकारच्या नादामध्ये वातावरणातील जटिलता जैवविविधतेशी जोडली आहे.  मानवीवर्स्तीपेक्षा मानवेतर भौगोलिक परिसरात कमी त्रास होत असल्याने जैवविविधतेचे दीर्घ काळासाठी दूरस्थपणे मूल्यांकन केले जाऊ शकते. 

देशोदेशीच्या अनेक संस्थांनी प्रचंड ध्वनिक्षेपक मुद्रणे संग्रहित करण्यास सुरवात केली आहे.  इतक्या मोठ्याप्रमाण ध्वनी मुद्रणे मिळवल्यावर ती ऐकणेही तेवढेच जिकिरीचे होते.  ते संपूर्णपणे ऐकणे अव्यवहार्य ठरेल म्हणून संशोधकांनी ध्वनिक वातावरणातील विविधता मोजण्यासाठी ‘ध्वनिक निर्देशांकांचा’ वापर करण्यास सुरुवात केली आहे. ध्वनी निर्देशांक ही एक आकडेवारी आहे जी ध्वनिमुद्रणातील ध्वनिक ऊर्जा आणि माहितीच्या वितरणाच्या पैलूंचा सारांश देते.  याचा वापर आज पर्यावरणीय शोध जगतात मोठ्या प्रमाणावर होत आहे.  प्रत्येक प्रजाती ध्वनिक वातावरणाचा एक विशिष्ट भाग वापरून ध्वनीसंकेतांचा वापर करत असतो.  समप्रजाती किंवा इतर प्रजातीशी संदेशवहन करताना विशिष्ट आवाज आच्छादित होऊ नये म्हणून ध्वनिक निर्देशांक या तत्त्वावर आधारित आहे. अश्या विविध ध्वनी लहरीचे प्रथ्थकरण विविध प्रजातीच्या अधिवासांमध्ये विविध प्रकारच्या ‘ध्वनिक कोनाडे’ ची मुद्रण नोंदविली जातात. 

कार्लटन विद्यापीठातील संशोधकाच्या संघाने यापुर्वी ध्वनीमुद्रानातून करण्यात आलेल्या अभ्यासाचा सूक्ष्म आढावा घेतला.  त्यानुसार निर्देशांकांचे विविध प्रकार तपासून पाहिले.  त्या निर्देशांकांच्या माध्यमातून विविध प्रकारची जैविक माहिती दर्शविण्यासाठी ते किती प्रभावी होते याचा परामर्ष दिला.  त्यानंतर सर्वात यशस्वी निर्देशांक गोळा करून अटलांटिक महासागरा भोवतालच्या ४३ सागरी आणि भूस्थळांवरून ध्वनिमुद्रणे मिळवली.  यंत्रज्ञानाच्या (मशीन लर्निंग) मदतीने निर्देशांकांची पडताळणी केल्यास पक्ष्यांच्या गाण्याची विविधता अचूकपणे नोंदविता आली.  दरम्यान सभोवतालचा वारा, कीट आणि मानवी गोंगाटामुळे अभ्यास नमुन्यामध्ये अडथळा निर्माण होत होता. परंतु सागरी मुद्रीतामध्ये कमी गोंगाट ऐकायला आला. बहुधा कोळंबी आणि लाटांच्या आवाजामुळे अडथळा कमी होता. म्हणून जैवविविधतेचे संवर्धन करण्यासाठी ध्वनी मुद्रीतेच्या मदतीने नोंदविलेली निरीक्षणे व त्यांच्यातील बदल अचूकपणे अधिक प्रभावीपणे अभ्यासले जाऊ शकते. 

संशोधन लेख:

Buxton RT, McKenna MF, Clapp M, Meyer E, Stabenau E, Angeloni LM, Crooks K, Wittemyer G. Efficacy of extracting indices from large-scale acoustic recordings to monitor biodiversity. Conservation Biology 32(5):1174-1184. 

मूळ इंग्रजी लेखिका – रेचल बक्सटन  

अनुवादक – राघवेंद्र वंजारी 

చనిపోయిన తేనెటీఁగల రహస్యము

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 హాయ్! నా పేరు ప్రీతి. నేను తేనెటీగలను అధ్యయనం చేసే శాస్త్రవేత్తను – అంటే వాటి ఆహారం, వైవిధ్యం, ఉండే వాతావరణం  మరియు వాటి ప్రాముఖ్యత గురించి తెలుసుకుంటాను. నా స్నేహితురాలు పేరు రాబిన్. ఆమె సేంద్రియ వ్యవసాయం చేస్తోంది.  

ఒకసారి, రాబిన్ తన పొలంలోని  చెత్త డబ్బాలో ఒక తేనెటీగల  గుంపుని  కనుగొన్నది. ఆ తేనెటీగలు  కొన్ని నెలలుగా  తమ తుట్టెను చెత్త డబ్బాలో ఏర్పాటు చేసుకొని నివసిస్తున్నాయి. రాబిన్ వాటిని  చూసి ఆనందించి, అప్పుడప్పుడు వాటిని పరిశీలించడం ప్రారంభించింది. జూన్ 2020లో ఒక ఉదయాన, రాబిన్ చెత్త డబ్బా దగ్గర చనిపోయిన తేనెటీగలు చెల్లాచెదురుగా పడి ఉండడం గమనించింది. అలాగే చెత్త డబ్బా మూత రోజూ కంటే ఎక్కువగా తెరిచి ఉంది. లోపల నుండి తేనెపట్టు స్పష్టంగా కనిపిస్తోంది. దెబ్బతిన్న ఆ తేనెతుట్టెను మళ్ళీ నిర్మించడానికి తేనెటీగలు  చాలా కష్టపడుతున్నాయి. 

రాబిన్ చనిపోయిన  తేనెటీగల గురించి నాకు చెప్పింది. నేను ఉత్సాహంతో తనిఖీ చేయడానికి అక్కడికి వెళ్ళాను. వేసవిలో తేనెతుట్టె దగ్గర మగ తేనెటీగలు చనిపోవడం చాలా సహజం – ఎందుకంటే ఈ సమయంలో పువ్వులు దొరకడం చాలా కష్టం. ఆహార కొరత వల్ల, ఆడ తేనెటీగలు మగతేనెటీగలను తేనెపట్టు దగ్గరకు రానివ్వవు. కానీ ఆశ్చర్యంగా డబ్బా దగ్గర చనిపోయిన తేనెటీగలలో ఒక్క మగ  తేనెటీగ కూడా లేదు!

 అక్కడ చనిపోయినవి అన్నీ ఆడ తేనెటీగ కార్మికులు. వీటికి తేనెతుట్టెతో చాలా దగ్గర సంబంధం ఉంటుంది. ఎవరైనా తేనెను దొంగిలించడానికి వస్తే, అవి వాటి శరీరంలోని  ప్రమాదకరమైన ముల్లుతో    దాడి చేస్తాయి. ఆ ముల్లుతో పాటుగా వాటి కడుపు కూడా దాడి చేయబడ్డ శరీరంలో ఉండిపోయి, ఆ ఆడ కార్మికులు కూడా చనిపోతాయి. అయితే, అక్కడ చనిపోయిన తేనెటీగలను పరిశీలిస్తే వాటి ముల్లు కూడా పోలేదు. మరిన్ని విషయాలు తెలుసుకోవడానికి డబ్బా చుట్టూ గమనించాను. ఒక ఆసక్తికరమైనది   కనుగొన్నాను – అది ముంగిసకి  చెందిన మలం!

ఆ మలం యొక్క  ఆకారం, కొలతలు   మరియు దానిలో ఉన్న వాటిని గమనిస్తే,  అది భారతీయ బూడిద రంగు ముంగిస యొక్క మలం అని గుర్తించాను. ఈ ముంగిస  మలం మన చిటికెన వేలు అంత మందంగా, చిన్న పురుగులు మరియు జంతువుల శరీర భాగాలు కలిగి ఉంటుంది. ఈ పొలం పరిసరాలలో కనిపించే ఈ  ముంగిసే తేనెతుట్టె దగరికి వచ్చి ధ్వంసం చేసిందనే నిర్ధారణకు వచ్చాము. 

చిన్న చిన్న పురుగులు ముంగిసకు ఆహారం. కాబట్టి, తేనెటీగలను తినడానికే ముంగిస  వాటిపై దాడి చేసిందని మేము అనుమానించాము. కానీ మాకు చాలా ప్రశ్నలకు సమాధానం దొరకలేదు. ఒకవేళ ముంగిస   తేనెటీగలను తినడానికి వస్తే, అక్కడ ఉన్న కొన్ని వందల తేనెటీగలను ఎందుకు తినకుండా వెళ్ళిపోయింది? తేనెతుట్టెను ఎందుకు నాశనం చేసింది? చెత్త డబ్బా చుట్టూ తేనెపట్టు విరిగిన ముక్కలు ఎందుకు కనిపించలేదు? ఈ ప్రశ్నలకు జవాబులు కనుక్కోవాలని మాకు   ఆతృతగా అనిపించింది. 

ముంగిస తినే ఆహారంపై కొంత పరిశోధన చేయడం కోసం మేము పుస్తకాలు మరియు ఇంటర్నెట్ వెతికాము.  ముంగిసలు పక్షులు, చిన్న చిన్న ఎలుకలు, పురుగులు, పాములు, బల్లులు మరియు పండ్లను తింటాయని మేము తెలుసుకున్నాము. కొన్ని అధ్యయనాల్లో  ముంగిసలు తేనెటీగలను కూడా తింటాయని తేలింది. కానీ తేనెతట్టుకి సంబంధించిన ప్రశ్నలకు సమాధానం దొరకక, మేము తలలు పట్టుకున్నాము.  అలా ఆలోచిస్తుండగా మాకు ఒక ఆలోచన తట్టింది! ముంగిస తేనె తినడానికి డబ్బా దగ్గరికి వచ్చి ఉంటుంది. అది తేనె తినే  క్రమంలో తేనెతుట్టెను తన్ని ఉంటుంది, దీంతో ఆడ తేనెటీగలు  ముంగిస మీద దాడి చేసి ఉండవచ్చు. భారతీయ ముంగిస యొక్క మందమైన గట్టి బొచ్చు, దాన్ని విషపూరితమైన పాము కాటు నుంచి కూడా కాపాడుతుందని ప్రసిద్ది. కాబట్టి   ముంగిసను కుట్టడానికి తీవ్రంగా ప్రయత్నిస్తూ, తేనెటీగలు అలసటతో చనిపోయి ఉండవచ్చు అని ఊహించాము. 

ఈ విధంగా చనిపోయిన తేనెటీగల రహస్యాన్ని మేము పరిష్కరించాము! కానీ శాస్త్రవేత్తలు ముంగిస తినే ఆహారంలో, తేనెను ఎందుకు చెప్పలేదని మీరు అడగవచ్చు! మలంలో  తేనె కనిపించకపోవడమే దీనికి కారణం.  

సైన్స్‌లో ఒక సమాధానం తరచుగా మరొక ప్రశ్నకు దారి తీస్తూ ఉంటుంది. ఇప్పుడు మాకు ఇంకో ప్రశ్న వచ్చింది – ముంగీసకు తియ్యటి పదార్థాలంటే ఇష్టమా అని. మరి మీలో ఏ ప్రకృతి పరిశోధకురాలు/ పరిశోధకుడు ఈ ప్రశ్నకు సమాధానం వెతుకుతారు?

ప్రకృతితో సత్సంబంధాలను పెంచుకొనుట

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ప్రకృతితో మంచి సంబంధం అనేది మీరు పల్లెలో ఉన్నా, పట్నంలో ఉన్నా, అడవి మధ్యలో ఉన్నా, సముద్రతీరాన ఉన్నా, మీకు ఇప్పటికే సత్సంబంధం ఉన్నా కూడా ఇంకా పెంపొందించుకోవచ్చు. మీ చుట్టూ ఉండే ప్రదేశాలు, ప్రాణులు, వాటి చేష్టలను గురించి ఆలోచించడానికి ఈ క్రింది ప్రశ్నలు మిమ్మల్ని  ప్రోత్సహిస్తాయి. మనకు అలవాటై ఇవి సహజమే అనిపించవచ్చు కానీ, కొంత ఆలోచిస్తే ఇవి నమ్మశక్యం కానివి అని తెలుస్తుంది. ఈ క్రింది ప్రశ్నలకు సమాధానాలు మీరు మాటల్లో చెప్పవచ్చు లేకుంటే బొమ్మలు దించడం, ఏదైనా పదార్థంతో రూపం తయారుచేయడం వంటి ఆసక్తికరమైన పద్దతుల్లో కూడా తెలపవచ్చు..

  1. మీకు ఇష్టమైన ప్రాణి ఏది? 

(మనుషులు కాని, మీరు పెంచుకొనే జంతువులు కాకుండా మరేదైనా చెప్పండి. ప్రకృతిలో మీకు కనిపించే జంతువులు, మొక్కలు, సూక్ష్మజీవులు, క్రిములు ఏవైనా అవ్వచ్చు.)

  1. ఆ ప్రాణి అంటే మీకు ఎందుకు ఇష్టం? 

(దాని గురించి ఒక ఆసక్తికరమైన విషయాన్ని తెలియజేయండి. మీకు తెలియకపోతే, తెలుసుకొనే ప్రయత్నం చేయండి.)

  1. ఏ ప్రాణి మీ జీవితం మీద అతి పెద్ద ప్రభావం చూపించింది?

(మీకు సమాధానం ఇవ్వడం కష్టమైతే, మీ రోజువారీ జీవితంలోని ఈ క్రింది అంశాల్లో ఆ ప్రాణి ప్రభావితం చేసి ఉంటుంది – ఆహారం/ వైద్యం/ పని సులభతరం చేయడం/ వస్తువులు తయారుచేయడం/ మీ పరిసరాలను పరిశుభ్రంగా ఉంచడం)  

  1. ఈ ప్రాణి లేకపోతే మీ జీవితంలో జరిగే మార్పు ఏమిటి?
  1. ఏ ప్రాణి మీద మనుషులు చాలా పెద్ద ప్రభావం చూపించారు?

       (మీకు వన్యప్రాణులతో ఉన్న సంబంధం, లేక మనుషులు చేసే పనుల గురించి అలోచించే ప్రయత్నం చేయండి.)

  1. చాలా రకాల ప్రాణుల్ని ఒకే చోట లేక ఒకే సమయంలో మనుషులు ప్రభావితం చేసిన సందర్భాలు ఏమైనా ఉన్నాయా?
  1. మనుషులు ఇతర ప్రాణులపై మంచిగా లేదా చెడుగా ప్రభావితం చేస్తున్నారని మీరు అనుకుంటున్నారా?
  1. ప్రకృతిని ఆస్వాదించడానికి, మీకు ఇష్టమైన ప్రదేశమేది?

       (ఈ ప్రదేశం చిన్నదైనా, పెద్దదైనా, దగ్గరిదైనా, దూరమైనా కావచ్చు. ఒక వేళ అలాంటివి లేకపోతే మీ ఇంట్లో కిటికీల్లో నుండి కాసేపు చూసి, ఎక్కడ ఎక్కువ మొక్కలు, పక్షులు, పురుగులు మొదలైన ప్రాణులు కనిపిస్తున్నాయో గమనించండి.) 

  1. మీరు ఎంచుకున్న ప్రదేశంలో ఏది ప్రత్యేకంగా కనబడుతోంది?

       (ఎలాంటి ప్రాణులు కనిపిస్తున్నాయి? అవి ఎలాంటి ఆసక్తికరమైన పనులు చేస్తున్నాయి?)

  1. ఏ ప్రదేశాన్నైనా, ప్రకృతిని ఆస్వాదించేందుకు వీలుగా ఉండేందుకు మీరేమి చేయగలరు?

பாட்டியும் நாகப் பாம்பும் 

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வெயில் நிறைந்த மதியம் ஒன்றில், எனது பாட்டி யசோதாம்மா, தன் வீட்டுக் கொல்லைப்புறத்தில் நாகப்பாம்பொன்றைப் பார்த்தார். இந்திய மாநிலம் கர்நாடகாவின் ஷிமோகா மாவட்டத்தில், மேற்குத் தொடர்ச்சி மலைக்கிராமம் ஹம்ச்சாவில் தனியாக வசித்து வருபவர் அவர். பாட்டி அங்கில்லாத ஓரிரு மாதங்களில், ஆள் நடமாட்டமில்லாத அவள் கொல்லைப்புறத்தை அது தனது வீடாக்கிக் கொண்டது போலும். இந்தவகை நாகம் மிகவும் விஷத்தன்மை கொண்டது. இந்தியாவில் அதிகளவு பாம்புக்கடி மரணங்கள் நிகழக் காரணமான நான்குரகப் பாம்புகளில் இதுவும் ஒன்று. ஆனால் எதிர்பார்த்தபடி எனது பாட்டி அப்பாம்பைக் கண்டு பயப்படவில்லை. தன் முன்னே தோன்றியதற்காக அதற்கு நன்றி கூறி, யாரையும் துன்புறுத்தாமல் இருக்கும்படி வேண்டிக்கொண்டார். இந்துமதப் பண்பாட்டில் நாகப்பாம்பை நாகராஜா என வணங்குவது அனைவரும் அறிந்ததே.

அது வீட்டுக்குள் வராதபடி  பின்னர் கவனமுடன் இருந்தார்.  மாலை நான்கு மணியளவில் அது சாலையைக் கடந்து அயல்வீட்டை நோக்கி ஊர்ந்து சென்றது. அங்கு ஒரு குழிக்குள் பதுங்கிய அதன் வால் மட்டும் வெளியே தெரிவது பாட்டியின்  பார்வையில் பட்டது. ஆர்வமிகுதியில் அதைத் தொடர்ந்து கவனித்தபடி இருந்தார். சுமார் ஒரு மணி நேரத்திற்குப் பிறகு அதன் வால் விசித்திரமாக ஆடத் தொடங்கியது. ஒரு சில நிமிடங்களில் அது குழிக்குள்ளிருந்து உப்பிய உடலுடன் வெளியே வந்தது. ஏதோ பெரிய இரையொன்றை விழுங்கிவிட்டு அது சிரமப்படுவது போலிருந்தது. இன்னும் சில நிமிடங்களில் அது மிகுந்த வலியில் துடிப்பதைக் கண்டார். இந்நேரத்திற்குள் அப்பாம்பு மீண்டும் பாட்டி வீட்டு முற்றத்தை எட்டியிருந்தது. விழுங்கிய எலியொன்றை திடீரென வாந்தியெடுத்தது. ஆயினும் இன்னும் பெரிய ஏதோ ஒன்று வயிற்றுக்குள் கிடக்க அது வலியில் துடித்தபடி இருந்தது. 

பாம்பின் வலியறிந்த பாட்டி  பதைபதைத்தார். பாம்பு பிடிப்பவர்கள் எவரையும் அவர் அழைக்க விரும்பவில்லை. அவர்கள் அதைப் பிடித்து ஏதேனும் ஒரு காட்டுப்பகுதியில் விட, அது மேலும் வலியில் துடிக்கக் கூடுமெனப் பயந்தார். அதனருகே ஒரு கிண்ணத்தில் நீர் வைத்தும் பயனின்றிப் போனது. மாலை ஏழு மணியளவில் அவர் முற்றத்தில் பிளந்த வாயுடன் அது மரித்துப் போனது. தன் வீட்டில் மரணம் நிகழ்ந்ததைப் போன்று பாட்டி அழுதார், அயல்வீட்டாரை அறிவித்தார், பின் பூசாரி ஒருவரை அழைத்து அதற்கு அந்திக்கர்மங்கள் செய்யச் சொன்னார். அதன் இறப்பிற்கான காரணம் எவருக்கும் தெரியவில்லை. விஷம்வைத்துக் கொல்லப்பட்ட எலிகளிரண்டை அது விழுங்கியதே காரணமென பாட்டி நம்பினார். 

பல்லுயிர்களுடன் பொருந்தி வாழும் இந்தியப் பண்பாட்டிற்கு இந்நிகழ்வு ஓர் எடுத்துக்காட்டு. அவையில் சில மனிதர்க்குத் தீங்கு விளைவிக்கும் உயிர்களாய் இருப்பினும் கூட. இப்பண்பாட்டில், குறிப்பாக கிராமப்புறங்களில் உள்ளுறைந்திருக்கும் நம்பிக்கைகளும் விழுமியங்களும், மக்கள்தொகை மிகுந்த இந்நாட்டில் வனவிலங்குகளும் பாதுகாக்கப்பட வழிவகுக்கின்றன. குறிப்பாக பஞ்சபூதங்கள் அனைத்தும் இங்கு வணங்கப்படுகின்றன. யானை விநாயகனாக, ஆமை விஷ்ணுவாக, காட்டுப்பன்றி வராஹமாக, காவிரி நதி தாயாக வணங்கப்படும் வழக்கங்களையும்  காண்கிறோம். இயற்கை மற்றும் சுற்றுச்சூழல் குறித்த புரிதலொன்று தினசரி வாழ்வில் பிணைந்திருப்பதைப் பார்க்கிறோம். பல பண்டிகைகளும் அதைப் பிரதிபலிக்கின்றன. 

விஷம் நிறைந்த நாகப்பாம்போடு வாழுமிடம் பகிர்வதைப் பாட்டி அறிந்திருந்தார்.  அதைப்பிடித்து வெகுதூரக் காட்டுக்குள் விடுவது அதைத் துன்புறுத்தும் என்ற புரிதல் அவருக்கு இருந்தது. உணவுச்சங்கிலியின் முக்கியத்துவத்தையும் எலிகளை விஷம் வைத்துக் கொல்வதின் சிக்கல்களையும் அவர் உணர்ந்திருந்தார். இவையனைத்தையும் இன்றைய தலைமுறைக்கு பள்ளிகளிலும் பல்கலைக்கழகங்களிலும் கற்றுக்கொடுக்க வேண்டியிருக்கிறது. பாம்பின் மறைவிற்கு மூன்று நாட்கள் துக்கம் அனுசரித்துவிட்டு, நான்காவது நாள் இந்நிகழ்வை எனது அம்மாவிற்கு விவரிக்கும் போது பாட்டி மிகவும் உணர்ச்சிவசப்பட்டிருந்தார். பாம்போடு அவருக்கிருந்த தொடர்பு அறிவியலும் உணர்வும் கலந்த ஒன்று. 

இயற்கையோடும் வனவிலங்குகளோடும் மனிதர்க்குள்ள தொடர்பானது மத நம்பிக்கைகள், பண்பாடு மற்றும் வாழ்க்கை முறை சார்ந்தது. நகரமயமாதலும் வணிகமயமாதலும் பெருகப்பெருக இயற்கையோடும் பண்பாட்டோடும் ஒருவர்க்குள்ள தொடர்பு துண்டிக்கப்படுகிறது. வனவிலங்குகளோடுள்ள பண்பாட்டுத் தொடர்பு பாட்டியின் தலைமுறையோடு மறைய, வழக்கங்கள் பலதும் அதன் மூலக்காரணத்தையும் பொருளையும் இழந்து நிற்கின்றன. இந்துமதவழிபாடு கோவிலுக்குள் அடைபட்ட சிலைகளோடு நின்றுவிட, நாகராஜாக்கள் வாகனங்களில் அடிபட்டுச் சாகின்றனர், விநாயகரும் வராஹங்களும் மின்சாரம் பாய்ந்து மரிக்கின்றனர், திருமால்  கடத்தப்படுகிறார், வாயுதேவனும் காவிரித்தாயும் மாசுபாட்டுக்கு உள்ளாகின்றனர், அவர்களனைவரின் வசிப்பிடங்களும் அழிக்கப்படுகின்றன. பாதுகாக்கப்பட்ட பகுதிகளுக்கு வெளியே மிக அதிக அளவில் வனவிலங்குகள் வசிக்கும் இந்தியாவில், அவற்றின் நீடித்த இருப்பு நமக்கு அவையோடுள்ள பண்பாட்டுத் தொடர்பைச் சார்ந்துள்ளது. உணர்வும் பண்பாட்டு விழுமியங்களும் இல்லாமல் வனவிலங்குகளைப் பாதுகாத்தல் இயலாதெனும் எனது நம்பிக்கையைப் பாட்டியின் அனுபவம் உறுதி செய்தாலும், அந்நிகழ்வு என்னுள் பெரும் கேள்விகளை விதைத்தது. நமது பண்பாட்டின் முக்கியப் பகுதியாக வனவிலங்குகள் பாதுகாப்பை எப்படி மீண்டும் கொண்டு வருவது? அவ்வாறு கொணர்தல் கல்வி நிறுவனங்களின் வேலை மட்டுமா, இல்லை குடும்பங்களுக்கும் சமூகத்திற்கும் அதில் பொறுப்புள்ளதா? அடிப்படையில், மனிதவாழ்வு பண்பாட்டு வழக்கங்களால் வடிவமைக்கப்படுகிறது. அப்பண்பாட்டிலுள்ள உண்மைச் சாரங்களை மீட்டெடுத்து நீட்டித்தல் இப்போதைய சுற்றுச்சூழல் பாதுகாப்புப் பணிகளில் மிகவும் முக்கியம்.

எழுத்து: ம்ருண்மயி அமர்நாத் 

புகைப்படங்கள்: சந்தோஷ் தாகலே மற்றும் V. புஷ்கர் (Creative Common Licence வழியாக)

Majestic Mangroves: The Blessings of the Coasts

“Dad, what time will our taxi arrive?” asked little Aadi.     

“At five in the morning,” replied his father.      

“Go to bed,” his mother chimed in, “We have to leave early tomorrow.” 

Aadi went to the bedroom but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t sleep. He was just too excited! He was visiting his native place in Kerala for the first time in seven years.

His grandparents lived in a picturesque little village in Kannur. The town had a lot to explore: from ponds to estuaries to beaches, from little herbs to gigantic trees, the village had it all! His grandparents’ house was right beside a river, and one could see its mesmerising beauty and elegance just by peeking out of their window. Aadi had been fascinated by this when he was younger and now that he was visiting again, he couldn’t help but feel eager. After a lot of tossing and turning, Aadi somehow managed to fall asleep. 

The next morning, Aadi and his parents left for the airport. Although Aadi got a window seat and despite it being a beautiful day, he was too drowsy to enjoy the view and slept soundly throughout the flight. He woke up as the plane landed and they went to collect their luggage. Upon exiting the airport, they found Grandpa and Grandma waiting for them, along with his Uncle Ajith. Aadi jumped with excitement and all of them bundled into a car and drove home happily. 

That night, Aadi’s grandfather told him stories about spirits, magical lakes, forests and many more nature-related stories.      

The next morning was beautiful: birds chirped, the sun shone brightly, and the river shimmered and made for a breathtaking view. The weather was warm and hazy. After a traditional lunch made up of a variety of different curries, papad, and pickles along with payasam, everyone turned lazy and refused to move. Grandpa had proposed a tour of the mangrove theme park in Valapattanam, as it was only seven kilometres away from their home. 

They reached it after a half-hour drive in Uncle Ajith’s car. Grandpa was an expert on mangroves, so no guides were needed on this trip. The family toured the park and asked him about the plants, the insects, the birds and the fascinating mangrove roots that stuck up from the soil. Aadi looked and listened intently.

After some time, he asked Grandpa why the park was made. 

Grandpa replied, “This park was made so that the mangrove forest could be turned into a site of tourism. This was done so that it could attract more people wanting to learn about the natural history and heritage of the area. This helps increase the number of people wanting to conserve this precious resource.” 

Aadi was intrigued, and wondered why the mangrove forests needed to be conserved. They looked like wasteland with wet squelchy soil, plus they were smelly and difficult to walk in. When Aadi said this aloud, Grandpa patiently explained:        

“Mangroves help our environment in so many different ways. They provide shelter to various birds, deer and insects along with many endemic species. These mangroves also help your uncle earn his living. You know that he is the manager of Nimraa Fish and Fish Products Exporters and his company exports a variety of fish, right? Well, approximately a third of these products are from the areas of mangrove forests. These forests also help protect the seashore from oncoming disasters. Imagine there is a giant tsunami forming near the estuaries. The dense growth of mangroves wouldn’t let it form completely and turn disastrous and the waves would eventually die down. They even absorb the excess moisture and rainwater during heavy rains, thus preventing flooding.”    

“Wow! Looks like mangroves play an important role in the environment,” replied Aadi. “But how can we help conserve these mangroves?” 

“Raising awareness about the depletion of mangroves is the first step towards their conservation. Restoration will also help conserve this resource along with decreasing the clearing of land for shrimp farming, agriculture, development of coastal areas and cities and setting up of industries, can work wonders in this field.  Even children can contribute by creating awareness among their friends and schoolmates regarding the plight of mangroves. As my father used to say, ‘You are never too young or too old to protect the things you love.’”

“Wow, there’s so much I can do, but where do I start?”asked Aadi, looking determined.

“There was an exceptionally aware and active mangrove conservation activist named Kallen Pokkudan. He was a widely known and well-respected figure who was regarded by many to be ‘The Father of the Environment’ in Kerala. His articles and books opened the eyes of many and created a lot of young mangrove activists. I have his biography, Pokkudan Ezhuthatha Aathmakatha: The Autobiography Pokkudan Couldn’t Write, somewhere in our private library. I can lend it to you if you want,” was Grandpa’s answer. 

Aadi felt inspired. This visit had truly opened his eyes to the plight of such a precious and fast-depleting resource. He had seen the natural disasters that had happened in Kerala in the past few years. Now, he regarded them as nature’s payback to humans for destroying these beautiful gifts.

A week later, Aadi was at the airport to return home. He was sad to be leaving, but at the same time, excited to see his friends, for he had pledged to tell everyone he could about mangroves, their plight, and how to save them.

Water in a Crisis: A Chain of Mishaps, but the Change Starts with us

It was a bright sunny day, and I was patiently listening to my science teacher talk about the importance of water. During the discussion, he mentioned that 71 percent of the earth is covered with water, but only one percent of this water is available as freshwater! I was shocked. Is this all? Only one percent!

Later that day I discussed it with my parents. I had several questions. Over the weekend, they took me to a lake, a few kilometres away from my house in Delhi. What I thought was going to be another family excursion turned into a learning opportunity that opened my eyes. 

As we reached the lake, I noticed the sadness in my mother’s eyes. When I asked her about this, she responded that the lake during her childhood had been much larger in size. Disappointed by this, my parents took me to the banks of the river Yamuna which flows through our city. I was instantly welcomed by a foul smell. My vision was not spared of the grotesque state of the river, either. I saw polythene bags floating on the surface of the river, and the colour of the water was a dirty brown. 

I felt disheartened. I had learnt about the mighty Yamuna in Geography: how it originates in the mountains and tumbles down to meet the Ganga. The picturesque image I had in mind of rivers—crystal clear water, animals playing in the water—was shattered. I decided to discuss this with my science teacher. 

The next day, I bombarded him with my questions. He explained that several factors, including extreme heat, inefficient use for irrigation, deforestation, and pollution have contributed to the sorry state of the water bodies that quench our thirst. He added that people recklessly throw away garbage, polluting our rivers without thinking of the long-term consequences. Furthermore, industries discharge untreated sewage into rivers, posing a risk to both the biodiversity of the river and us. He asked me to remember the contribution of trees to the water cycle, and think about how deforestation might impact the water level in freshwater bodies. 

I was filled with despair, realising that an important resource is suffering such a painful death. My friends and I decided to find solutions to this problem. With my teacher’s help, we shortlisted a few ideas. First, by minimising plastic waste and recycling plastic instead of dumping it in the rivers, we as citizens can contribute to solving the problem of plastic pollution. Second, we should install rainwater harvesting systems in our houses to prevent water loss. Third, while irrigating, farmers should use the drip irrigation method as it is very efficient and there is no wastage of water. Fourth, the government should ban industries from releasing untreated waste directly into rivers. We should also promote activities such as afforestation and reforestation in affected regions. It is also important to raise public awareness about water pollution and depletion. 

While some of these might not be easily achieved, I have started to be more aware of the choices I make and resources I use in daily life. I also try to advocate for environmentally friendly practices among my friends and family. While my contribution will seem tiny in the greater picture, I believe it is as essential as a drop of water that contributes to forming an ocean. 

Image: Anvi Sharma

Markhor Goat: the Serpent Killer of Islamabad

Without even saying good morning first, Yurie rushed into school and asked her friend Juliet if she had watched the National Geographic Channel show the night before.

“No, I was watching KBC,” replied Juliet. “Why do you ask?”

“You missed learning about the strangest animal I have ever seen—and I have watched every show on National Geographic!”

“What strange animal?” asked Juliet. “What makes this animal so unique?”  

Both friends started surfing the internet to gather more information about the peculiar animal that had been featured and noted down their findings. A couple of hours later, they exchanged their notes to quench their inquisitive minds’ thirst for knowledge.

Yurie stated that she first came to know about this animal—the markhor goat—from a New Year’s greetings card sent by a cousin living in Islamabad, Pakistan. She could not identify it at first glance. Upon enquiring, she was told by her cousin that it was Pakistan’s national animal. Yurie was astonished to hear this because she had not previously been aware of it. 

She discovered that the markhor goat weighs anywhere between 32 and 110kg. Measuring 132–186cm in length and 65–115cm in height at the shoulder, it has the highest maximum shoulder height of all species in the genus Capra (goats), and is only surpassed in length and weight by the Siberian ibex. 

Its coat is grizzled, light brown to black, smooth and short in summer, but growing longer and thicker in winter. Physical features can be used to distinguish between genders. Males have longer hair on the chin, throat, chest, and shanks, whereas females are redder in colour, with shorter hair, a short black beard, and no mane.

Juliet shared her findings on the habitat and ecology of the animal. The markhor goat is adapted to living in mountainous terrain at an elevation of 600–3600m. It typically inhabits scrub forests made up primarily of oak, pine, and junipers. Its diet shifts seasonally: in the spring and summer it grazes, but turns to browsing trees in winter, sometimes standing on its hind legs to reach the high branches.

During the British colonial era, the markhor goat was considered to be among the most challenging game species because of the danger involved in stalking and pursuing it in the high mountainous terrain. In The Rifle in Cashmere, Arthur Brinckman wrote that “a man who is a good walker will never wish for any finer sport than ibex and markhor shooting”. In India, it is illegal to hunt markhor, nevertheless, they are poached for their meat and horns, which are thought to have medicinal properties.

Both Yurie and Juliet wanted to make their report public in the forthcoming school journal, but felt that their findings would be of little interest unless they included some fascinating facts about the animal. Here is what they collected from different sources:

“The name ‘markhor’ is thought to be derived from the Persian language,” said Yurie, “where ‘mar-’ stands for ‘snake, serpent’ and the suffix ‘-khor’ means ‘eater’. This is interpreted to represent the animal’s alleged ability to kill snakes, even though there is no direct evidence of it.”

“Like cows, markhors are often found chewing their cud after eating,” added Yurie. “In the process of chewing, the cud often falls out of their mouth and onto the ground. Locals insist that this partially chewed cud helps treat snake bites and other wounds, so it’s popular among people who prefer natural remedies.” 

According to at least one scientist from the 1850s, male markhors have an unpleasant smell that’s even worse than that of a typical domestic goat. This sort of adaptation could help ward off predators or mark their territory and it could also help other individuals detect them from a distance.

Female markhors provide nourishment (milk) and protection to their kids, with male markhors playing a minimal role in parenting. The young are weaned at 5–6 months, but some kids will remain with their mothers for a considerably longer period if they are not ready to venture out on their own.

Although hunting markhors is mostly illegal, the government of Pakistan does issue four permits to hunt each of the three subspecies of markhor every year. Hence, a total of 12 markhor hunting licences are sold annually in open auctions. The proceeds are supposedly used to fund the conservation of the animal.

Yurie and Juliet were thrilled that they could gather such interesting information about an animal they had never heard of before, the national animal of another country, and enjoyed sharing it with their peers at school.

Image: Wikimedia commons

Tried and tested: The role of evidence-based practices in sea turtle conservation

Drive along the Ratnagiri coast in western India in the early months of any year, and you are sure to come across a fenced-off enclosure on many of its beaches. The inside of the enclosure is usually dotted with small, evenly-spaced placards, while outside a fluttering banner or a wooden board declares it to be a sea turtle hatchery. Hatcheries, in general, are synonymous with sea turtle conservation the world over. But the efficacy of these structures in protecting sea turtle eggs and hatchlings (baby turtles) depends on whether the hatcheries follow best practices. As a conservation technique, freshly laid nests that are moved from their original locations on exposed beaches to protected hatcheries should—in theory produce more hatchlings than nests that are left unprotected. With fewer resources available and an increasing urgency for conservation actions to succeed, how do we know if the conservation strategy works?

Evidence-based conservation

For those of us familiar with the crime genre, evidence is a term used mainly in legal proceedings that eventually leads to a person being implicated (or not!) in some wrongdoing. Similarly, evidence plays a crucial role in many other action-based disciplines, including medicine, education, social work, and biodiversity conservation. The concept of evidence-based practice originated back in 1981 when a group of epidemiologists, led by Dr. David Sackett, suggested using evidence in medical sciences to choose the best treatment for their patients. They recommended that physician decisions needed to be informed by a well-rounded, systematic evaluation of available medical literature. Later, it came to be known as evidence-based medicine, a phrase coined by Dr. Gordon Guyatt and his team, and the practice served as a tool for physicians to determine the best course of action to reduce patient ailments. In the past few years, there has been an expansion in the use of evidence-based practices to aid in decisions for biodiversity protection and management.

Like medicine, conservation can be considered a ‘crisis discipline’ in which decisions must be made in a short time period and, sometimes, with limited information.

In 2001, Pullin and Knight first suggested the use of evidence to inform conservation actions, backed by scientific studies and not merely based on prior experience or instinct. The following years saw a rise in the number of reviews that were conducted to evaluate conservation strategies and determine their efficacy. Just like for medicine, it was called evidence-based conservation or EBC, and was adopted by prominent research groups, giving rise to online repositories like Conservation Evidence that compile evidence summaries from scientific studies to determine the success of conservation strategies for different taxa or ecosystems. Such repositories provide a source of validated information for quick access by conservationists and managers. The main intention is to identify the factors that lead to conservation success, which can then be used to promote its effective usage and target funding towards it. Examples for evidence-based practices in conservation include the evaluation of spatial strategies like the creation of protected areas, celebrity endorsement in marketing conservation, and the success of techniques used in sea turtle hatchery management!

Sea turtle life: On land and in the sea

As marine reptiles, sea turtles spend the better part of their lives feeding and resting in the sea. Their experience on land is short—limited to the time after they emerge from their sandy, underground nests as hatchlings and scramble across the beach to enter the water. Male turtles rarely ever return to land once they have left as hatchlings, but adult female turtles make the journey back to the natal region where they hatched, to lay eggs of their own. Despite the limited amount of time sea turtles spend on land, it is easier for us to protect the eggs laid on our beaches than to reduce threats to turtles at sea.

Sea turtle hatcheries: A conservation tool

Hatcheries are a popular ex-situ (i.e., away from the natural location) conservation strategy widely used across the world. A hatchery is usually a secure enclosure on or close to the nesting beach where at-risk sea turtle nests are relocated (i.e., moved from one location to another). Mainly used to combat threats to sea turtle eggs, including depredation by animals, poaching, and beach erosion, hatcheries are also a great resource to raise awareness about sea turtles and generate tourism, thus boosting the local economy by providing a source of income for many coastal communities. Based on its purpose, local materials, and the number of clutches of eggs that need to be protected, the enclosures come in all shapes and sizes.

A hatchery used only for conservation purposes is most likely to be a simply designed temporary arena constructed from wooden poles and mesh, with space to incubate relocated turtle eggs. Hatcheries that operate with additional objectives of ecotourism or to create awareness may expand their enclosures to include small information centres, tanks to retain hatchlings or hold injured or disabled turtles for viewing, and tend to be permanent structures.

Hatcheries operate on the core principle of protecting relocated eggs. But while moving these eggs from point A to point B may sound easy, it is a long process involving multiple steps that starts with locating a natural nest, removing the eggs, carrying them to the hatchery, constructing an artificial nest, and monitoring the number of hatchlings produced. Even the construction of a hatchery requires several considerations, the first and foremost being whether it is even required in the first place! After that, most of the steps in relocating eggs require decisions on when and how to conduct and/ or complete a particular activity. These decisions are driven by the various biological processes behind the development of turtle embryos in the eggs, which have been studied extensively and have helped experts in determining the basic dos and don’ts when employing hatcheries. Guided by these practices, practitioners and managers have used hatcheries to protect and improve their local sea turtle populations.

However, simply employing a hatchery does not guarantee a victory for conservation. The real measure of success lies in the number of eggs that hatch and the number of hatchlings that then enter the sea—all of which are influenced by the decisions made and the precision with which the best hatchery practices are followed. So, where does India stand when it comes to sea turtle hatcheries and their success?

Assessment of hatcheries in India

Three years ago, we began a study on hatchery practices in India. Considering India’s 7,500-km long coastline, we knew there would be a lot of hatchery managers and workers to reach out to for information. The main objective was to compare the best practices described in guidelines for hatcheries with real-life practices in collection, transportation, and incubation of eggs as well as the holding and release of hatchlings. With a few misses but mostly hits, representatives from 36 hatcheries agreed to participate in our survey and provided considerable information that improved our understanding of hatchery practices in India.

Responses revealed that some of the techniques used by the hatcheries did not align with practices recommended by experts and supported by scientific evidence. We found that most hatcheries were temporary structures, set up to mainly protect sea turtle eggs from predators, and which were moved annually so that relocated eggs were buried in clean sand. Other than protecting the eggs, some hatcheries were also used for ecotourism and to spread awareness about sea turtles and their conservation among local communities. The hatchery nests were spaced as recommended (no more
than one nest per square metre) to ensure that the heat and respiratory gases generated by one clutch of eggs did not affect another. However, a lot of nests were moved to the hatcheries just within or outside the accepted time limit for moving eggs (six hours), which potentially affected their chances of survival.

The depth of nests in some of the hatcheries was also different from the average nest depth for that particular species. Depths can influence the temperatures within the nest, and shallower or deeper relocated nests will affect the percentage of eggs that survive and the sex of hatchlings during the development stage. The most concerning finding, however, was that the percentage of eggs that successfully hatched out of the relocated clutches was no different from those left unprotected on the beach. This was observed to be true not only for hatcheries in India, but also for those in other countries in the northern Indian Ocean region. Further, our results also highlighted a lack of regular training in hatchery techniques for managers and workers, including an explanation of the scientific logic behind every practice, and limited resources that restricted the capabilities of the hatcheries to always follow best practices, thus minimising the conservation outcomes.

Based on our findings, we recommend that hatcheries must alter their practices depending on the requirement to protect nests in that particular region. This includes reducing the time between when eggs are laid and reburied in a hatchery, decreasing nest density within the hatchery, and ensuring suitable nest depths. There is also a need to periodically train hatchery workers to refresh their knowledge and to emphasise proper record-keeping of details such as hatching success and hatchling emergence. Finally but most importantly, conservationists and hatchery managers must consider in-situ protection of eggs, i.e., leaving eggs in their original location and/or using additional strategies like building small fences around individual nests. The material of the fences can be modified depending on the type of prevalent threats, thereby reducing the need for extra manpower and resources in moving eggs to a large hatchery.

Conclusion
In response to global biodiversity loss and the climate crisis, conservation activities around the world have increased to reduce threats, improve wild populations of plants and animals, and preserve our natural resources.

However, despite this urgency, there are limited resources for conservationists and managers, who struggle to achieve the double aim of conserving biodiversity and safeguarding the welfare and livelihoods of people living in the area. In this context, there is very little margin of error and resources have to be smartly used on strategies that will ensure a high likelihood of success. And this is where evidence-based practices in conservation or simply evidence-based conservation come in handy.

Knowledge of evidence-based conservation, combined with experiential learning, will help us make informed decisions and assure maximum success in our work. Practitioners are already advocating for the inclusion of evidence-based practices in curricula, to train future generations of conservationists and natural resource managers in critical analysis early on. Many conservation funders now include ‘Monitoring and Evaluation’ as a reporting requirement for projects that receive their funding. As the call for further conservation actions gathers momentum, it is important that conservationists and managers not only assess the effectiveness of their own activities, but also examine the best use of their efforts and resources to ensure that every action contributes to protecting biodiversity.

Further Reading

Phillott, A. D., N. Kale and A. Unhale. 2021. Are sea turtle hatcheries in India following best practices? Herpetological conservation and biology 16(3): 652–670.

Downey, H., T. Amano, M. Cadotte, C. N. Cook, S. J. Cooke, N. R. Haddaway, J. P. G. Jones et al. 2021. Training future generations to deliver evidence-based conservation and ecosystem management. Ecological solutions and evidence 2(1): e12032.

This article is from issue

17.2

2023 Jun

Trailblazing women in East Africa’s marine conservation space

The role of women in marine conservation in East Africa is critical, as they are disproportionately affected by the impacts of environmental degradation, and their contributions to marine conservation efforts are often overlooked. Female leadership is especially important in this context because women bring unique perspectives, experiences, and skills that are essential for the success of marine conservation initiatives. Women often have a deep knowledge of the natural resources in their local areas, which can be used to develop effec tive conservation strategies. They are also often skilled communicators and negotiators, which can be valuable in engaging local communities in conservation efforts and in advocating for policy change.

Here, we profile women who play various roles in marine conservation across East Africa, paving the way for impactful, transformative leadership.

Dr Fiona Wanjiku Moejes, CEO, Mawazo Institute, Kenya

The Mawazo Institute is a women-led African organisation based in Nairobi, Kenya supporting early career African women researchers as they work to find soluti ons to local and global development challenges. Member of the African Marine Conservation Leadership Programme, is a Women for the Environment Africa Fellow and sits on the Executive Committee of the International Society of Applied Phycology.

Prior to joining Mawazo, I served as both a senior marine research scientist (with a focus on applied microalgae and seaweed research) and a marine programme manager. During my time as programme manager at Dahari, I had the opportunity to lead community-led, research-based marine conservation efforts in the Comoros, where environmental degradation has had negative impacts on both the ecosystem and the communities that depend on it. Despite the limited resources available in the small East African island nation, ourteam at Dahari worked with the local fisher communities to support them in the management of their marine resources. One of my highlights was working with a fisherwomen’s association who were so passionate about protecting their natural resources and quickly became changemakers and leaders in their communities, helping them to live more sustainably with their marine ecosystem.

I see my role at Mawazo being complementary and a continuation to my previous work in the marine research and conservation space. I am building on my own experience and supporting the growth of the next generation of African women researchers, including those working in conservation.

African women researchers lack access to funding, mentorship and networks, and have to contend with gender-insensitive university policies, unequal domestic responsibilities and outright discrimination; all impacting their mental, emotional and physical wellbeing. This has led to the exclusion of African women and their authentic perspectives and voice in academia, research and development spaces— places where key decisions affecting Africa’s development are made. As a leader in this space, I am supporting the inclusion of the ideas and perspectives of African women in conservation and beyond, leading to the implementation of innovative, holistic and homegrown solutions for Africa.

Julitha Mwangamilo, Programme Manager at Sea Sense, Tanzania

Sea Sense works closely with coastal communi ties in Tanzania to safeguard and preserve threatened marine wildlife, such as sea turtles, dugongs, whales, dolphins, and whale sharks. Member of the African Marine Conservation Leadership Programme.

Two decades ago, I began my career in marine conservation as a researcher with a focus on fish species. However, my current role as a Programme Manager at Sea Sense is particularly rewarding as it enables me to develop the skills and capacities of my team and community leaders, including women in fishing communities.

My work with communities is centred on improving their ability to manage their marine resources, as well as developing alternative livelihoods and enterprise opportunities. One project involved collaborating with mothers in a local community to create alternative income streams, which helped support their children’s secondary education. I see myself as a bridge between conservation and community needs, with a particular emphasis on the female perspective.

In addition, I have worked to strengthen community capacity for fisheries co-management, particularly in terms of governance, leadership skills, and securing alternative livelihoods to reduce fishing pressure on marine resources. Through mentoring and guiding my team, women leaders in small-scale fishing, and fishers involved in managing fisheries resources, I have helped to build their leadership skills, resulting in empowered community leaders who are now implementing and running their own programs.

I am a firm believer that good leaders never stop learning, which is why I joined the African Marine Conservation Leadership Programme to enhance my skills. This leadership training has equipped me with valuable insights that have influenced my leadership style, enabling me to continue to mentor and guide my team effectively and work alongside the community to achieve our conservation goals.

Lorna Slade, Technical Advisor and co-founder, Mwambao, Tanzania

Mwambao facilitates a learning network linking coastal communities and other partner stakeholders that builds community resilience, and implements improved sustainable coastal resource management and livelihoods. Member of the African Marine Conservation Leadership Programme.

My colleague Ali Thani and I founded Mwambao in 2010 after we realised that there was a need for a coordinated effort to address important issues affecting the coastal communities of Tanzania and the ocean on which they depend. Mwambao is today a network of more than 50 communities working together to support the sustainable management of natural resources in coastal areas. The network’s approach is based on the principles of community-based natural resource management (CBNRM), which emphasises the importance of centering communities in the decision-making process, and empowering them to be wise stewards of their natural resources.

Since Mwambao’s launch, we have been able to bring together a diverse range of stakeholders, including fishermen, women’s groups, youth organisations, and local government officials to work towards shared goals.

The network has helped to build the capacity of these groups through training and mentoring, and has supported the development of community-led initiatives such as local marine protected areas, eco-compliance loans, and sustainable fishing practices. Being part of this movement is a source of pride for me, and I aspire to inspire other women to assume leadership positions in conservation, particularly in the marine sector.

Jane Muteti, Programme Coordinator, COMRED, Kenya

Coastal and Marine Resource Development (COMRED) focuses on building resilient coastal communities and environments in the Western Indian Ocean region, supporting livelihoods and marine conservation. I am a Program Coordinator at COMRED. I hold an MSc in Marine and Lacustrine Science and Management from Vrije Universiteit Brussel and a BSc degree in Coastal and Marine Resource Management from Kenyatta University.
I’m passionate about my role, and I’m lucky to have had the opportunity to use my knowledge and skills to provide valuable contributions to marine conservation early on in my career. As a coordinator, I’m involved in the implementation of projects and partnerships, and I’m dedicated to ensuring that these projects are successful. I work closely with stakeholders to identify and address the challenges facing marine life and environment, and identify solutions. Although it can be intimidating, I am passionate and excited to be a young female leader in marine conservation. Every day my strength and experience is growing, and I strive to make a positive and meaningful contribution to the environment and the people that rely on it. I am learning how to use my unique perspective to bring value to the sector, and am determined to make a lasting impact.

This article is from issue

17.2

2023 Jun

Samundar ka guru¹: An account of Kalumangothi’s life and wisdom on the ocean

On a late sunny afternoon back in April 2019, I was talking to Shamsudheen, or Shamsu bhai as we call him. We were standing outside the Dak Bungalow on Minicoy, an island in the Lakshadweep archipelago off the coast of Kerala, India. Shamsu bhai is the President of Maliku Masveringe Jamaath—a traditional body that decides the rules and practices for managing Minicoy’s pole and line tuna fishery. Being the island from where the pole and line tuna fishery was transferred to other Lakshadweep Islands, I was seeking to document Minicoy’s traditional fisheries management systems.

After a not-so-successful field trip in March, I was back on the island looking for potential interviewees. Shamsudheen, being busy with official duties, was suggesting the names of other knowledgeable fishers on the island. That’s when Mohammed Kalumangothi, fondly known on the island as Kalumaan, appeared on his black Yamaha RX100. Sitting on his motorbike, wearing a broad smile, he asked Shamsu bhai what was happening. In response, Shamsu bhai looked at me and said, “Here’s the answer to all your questions.” And that was the first time that I, Abel, met Kalumaan.

Kalumaan, a knowledgeable fisherman and the lone communist on the island, has an interesting personality. He started fishing when he was 14, and now in his early 50s, he already has decades of fishing experience. Being the skillful and likeable person that he is, he has been one of the most popular kelus (boat captains) in Minicoy. Padmini, Agartala, Bahrain, Kamyaab are just some of the many boats that Kalumaan has captained across the 11 villages on the island.

Each year during the month of Ramadan, after the Eshah prayer in the evening, the island that is still and calm during the day comes to life. People go shopping, and are seen conversing over tea by the beach or taking walks, while some women are busy preparing special Ramadan delicacies. And this is when our work begins as well.

Post dinner at Hotel Aboo & Sons each night, I take an auto rickshaw and head to Kalumaan’s place. As I near Falessery village, in the distance, I always see Kalumaan eagerly waiting for me. He then takes me to his wife’s house where he resides at night as per Minicoy’s matrilocal system. “Baa aadyam chaaya kudikkaam,” he says and serves me kattan chaaya (black tea) along with bodu appam and riha appam, Minicoy’s favourite evening snacks.

On our way to the seashore, where Kalumaan loves to spend his evenings, he opens his chellam (a tiny box) and takes out a few karambus (cloves) to chew on. At the sandy beach, under the starry sky, he spreads a cloth for us to sit on. Boats with blinking red lights on top are anchored close to shore. Crabs are milling around, and the cool sea breeze carries a fishy, salty scent.

“Enthoru haramaanu?” He asks if this much fun can be experienced anywhere on the mainland. Only once the above routine is completed is Kalumaan ready to answer questions about Chaala and Choora. Baitfish, locally known as Chaala, is one of the critical factors for Lakshadweep’s pole and line tuna fishing. Pole and line is a sustainable fishing method owing to its selective, non-invasive, and small-scale approach. This technique has its origin in the Maldives from where it spread to Minicoy. A comprehensive system of traditional fisheries management that covers the spatial and temporal aspects of resource management has evolved in Minicoy over time. However, while transferring pole and line from Minicoy to the other Lakshadweep islands in the 1960s, these systems were left behind.

Kalumaan’s in-depth knowledge about every species he interacts with during his fishing ventures is remarkable. Whether it’s baitfish or coral ecology, or the behaviour of turtles, sting rays and octopuses or the catching techniques of vembolu, metti or chammelli, Kalumaan knows it all. From the 2019 field season alone, we have over 8.5 hours of recorded interviews with him. And this was excluding the countless informal monologues of his that were packed with useful information. It was Kalumaan, with his enthusiasm and cheerfulness, who made the strenuous documentation exercise engaging for us. Our ongoing work attempts to document this knowledge so that other similar coastal systems can also learn from Minicoy’s traditional resource management systems. Having said that, this knowledge is also key to Minicoy’s existence, as the island is heavily dependent on natural resources and its systems are vulnerable to unsustainable transitions.

Kalumaan’s wisdom is not restricted to individual species or their ecosystems, but extends to the ocean at large. Sea salinity, current patterns, fishing grounds, underwater terrain, navigation based on the Nakaiy calendar (an indigenous Maldivian calendar system) and astronomical knowledge—these are some of the many aspects he is well-versed in. All of this is knowledge he has gathered through observation over the years. “Suppose we already caught a thousand tuna, and another boat is trying to catch from the same school the easy way, without using a single baitfish, which is against the Jamaath’s norm, then, dip a steel glass in the water and all the tuna will flee, leaving nothing for anyone to fish.”

It isn’t only his technical know-how or skills that make Kalumaan unique. He motivated two men with disabilities to join his fishing crew when nobody else was keen on taking them on. An old colleague of ours, having merely transcribed the recorded interviews of Kalumaan, was intrigued by his compassionate tales and engaging conversations. Keen on meeting him, she made it to Minicoy in the next field season, and made friends with Kalumaan. He is also a local celebrity. Young boys on motorbikes, men lounging in beach shacks and women carrying headloads of filleted tuna to village kitchens all greet him as “sakhave” (comrade) or “Kalumaan kaaka” as they pass. “Allah! What can I say, it’s full of acquaintances here, that’s the problem,” Kalumaan turns to us and says with a grin on his face.

Fast forward to March 2023, I am still in awe of the hospitality, warmth and trust that he extends to us. Even Diya, who was carrying out fieldwork on the island for the first time and a total stranger to Kalumaan, was received with a tour of his entire village and an invitation to attend a family wedding. Always welcoming, never averse to being asked questions—what more can a researcher ask from someone in the community that they work with? It is people like Kalumaan who make our work possible on the island. And that comes with the responsibility to not feel entitled to all the support we have been given.

Although he always appears jovial, Kalumaan has faced his fair share of hardships. Over the past two decades, he has lost three boats—two to cyclones and one during peak monsoon in 2004, while rescuing the crew onboard MT Indira after their engine failed. To date, he hasn’t received any compensation for the boats he lost, even after filing several applications. But that never stopped him from lending a hand to those in need. A migrant worker we met recently at the Minicoy jetty, was telling us how Kalumaan helped all of them who were stranded on the island during the COVID-19 lockdown by giving them fish for free and making sure they all had a decent meal every day. At times, Kalumaan also gives money to a person with a mental illness so that he doesn’t have to go hungry. And in his unique fashion, Kalumaan invited the entire island, including non-islanders, to his daughter’s wedding by posting an invitation on the local television channel!

Kalumaan hasn’t changed in the few years that we have known him, but things have changed for him. The man who spent most of his life at sea is now seen only on the shore, having become paralysed along his right side at the beginning of 2022. He was airlifted to the mainland, where he underwent surgery and prolonged treatment. He is now back on the islands almost a year later but continues to be on medication and physiotherapy. Still, just yesterday before writing this account, we were there once again sitting on the shore with Kalumaan, laughing at his hilarious accounts of crabs having tussles with rats, and listening to his revolutionary ideas about replacing diesel power generators with wave energy projects so that the daylong power cuts on the island due to diesel shortages can be a thing of the past.


¹ Samundar ka guru means the guru of the sea in Hindi. We came across some Hindi-speaking seamen in Minicoy referring to Kalumaan as such during our fieldwork on the island earlier this year.

Further Reading

Abraham, A. J. and A. Sridhar. 2021. Plural islands of Lakshadweep: Insider-outsider narratives of Minicoy. Le thinnai Revi. https://medium.com/thinnairevi/pluralislands-of-lakshadweep-insider-outsider-narratives ofminicoy-by-abel-job-abraham-and-de8b03715fd. Accessed on April 20, 2023.

Khot, I., M. Khan, P. Gawde, A. J. Abraham, A. Raj, R. Sen and N. Namboothri. 2023. Fish for the Future: Creating participatory and sustainable fisheries governance pathways in the Lakshadweep Islands — A 10-year report. Bengaluru: Dakshin Foundation.

Namboothri N., I. Khot and A. J. Abraham. 2022. Small islands, big lessons: Critical insights into sustainable fisheries from India’s coral atolls. In: Conservation through sustainable use: Lessons from India. (eds. Varghese A., M. A. Oommen, M. M. Paul and S. Nath). 1st edition. Pp. 27–40. London: Routledge India. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781003343493

This article is from issue

17.2

2023 Jun

Rhinos of the sea

We have all heard of sharks. When you imagine one, the typical picture that might come to your mind is a large, grey-white fish with pointed fins and sharp, deadly teeth. Now imagine something like a shark, but with a flattened head and torso, pointed snout and brown body, and you get a rhino ray, the strange-looking and ancient relatives of sharks. Named because their pointed snouts apparently resemble rhino horns, these species are cartilaginous fish that evolved from sharks and form a link between sharks and rays. Rhino rays are made up of different families, including guitarfish (Glaucostegidae), wedgefish (Rhinidae) and sawfish (Pristidae). Their flattened bodies are an adaptation for life on the seafloor—they are often found swimming close to the bottom, or resting in the seabed, concealed and camouflaged in sediment.

On the edge of extinction
Rhino rays have been increasingly in the spotlight in recent years, and not for good reasons. Sadly, research has found they are currently one of the most threatened groups of species in the world. All but one species of guitarfish, wedgefish and sawfish are Endangered or Critically Endangered. These species are found in shallow coastal waters, overlapping with some of the most intense coastal fisheries in the world. Their fins are highly valuable, fetching at least twice the price of shark fins, which drives fishers to target and catch them.

In other cases, they are caught accidentally as ‘bycatch’ and then retained by fishers to sell or consume. These factors have pushed rhino rays to the edge of extinction, even more so than other rays and sharks. Rhino rays are ‘bioturbators’, excavating and modifying the ocean sediments and habitats. As meso predators, they also form important links between species at the top and bottom of the food web. These essential ecological functions could be lost if rhino rays disappear.

Despite the risks they face, rhino rays remain a data-limited species, which means we know very little about them, especially in countries such as Indonesia and India where they are the most fished. Studying any marine species is challenging, but rhino rays can be particularly elusive despite being found in shallow waters. They were also overlooked for a long time, with their more charismatic cousins— sharks receiving most of the attention from research and conservation.

Despite the risks they face, rhino rays remain a data-limited species, which means we know very little about them, especially in countries such as Indonesia and India where they are the most fished. Studying any marine species is challenging, but rhino rays can be particularly elusive despite being found in shallow waters. They were also overlooked for a long time, with their more charismatic cousins—sharks receiving most of the attention from research and conservation.

The guitarfish of Goa
“It’s a super rare fish, but you can see it on the shore. If you see it on the shore, it means your stars are aligned and you are very lucky,” says a gillnet fisher in Goa.

Goa, on the west coast of India, is known for its beautiful beaches, blue waters, tourism and seafood. Rhino rays might be the last thing on your mind if you travelled there—indeed, most tourists who visit have probably never heard of them. But species such as the widenose guitarfish (Glaucostegus obtusus) and sharpnose guitarfish (Glaucostegus granulatus) are found along Goa’s coastline, sometimes inhabiting waters that are only ankle-deep!

I have been working in the field of fisheries and shark research since 2018 and have surveyed hundreds of dead rhino rays captured in fishing vessels. It was in Goa that I had my first live sighting of one species the widenose guitarfish. I was on a quiet beach at sunset, when a number of them came into the shallow waters, moving in and out with the waves. Seeing these Critically Endangered species swimming at my feet was an experience I’ll never forget. These encounters led me to study rhino rays, especially guitarfish, in Goa for part of my PhD research.

Given that scientists know almost nothing about these species in this region, fishing communities can be the best source of information. The lives of fisherfolk are intertwined with the sea, and they hold a wealth of knowledge accumulated over generations. Our study has documented the local ecological knowledge (LEK) that fishers in Goa hold about rhino rays, to better understand their habitat use and seasonality, the kind of threats they face and how people can conserve them. We also looked into their interaction with fisheries—how they were fished, how they were used, and what kind of value they have for fishing communities. We plan to use these insights and knowledge on rhino rays to understand how to conserve them.

It’s a super rare fish, but you can see it on the shore. If you see it on the shore, it means your stars are aligned and you are very lucky” – A gillnet fisher in Goa

A day in the research life
With my degree in marine biology, people often assume that I spend most of my time underwater exploring the frontiers of the ocean. The reality is very different; most of my fieldwork involves spending time in fishing centres, monitoring catch, and engaging with local communities. For this research on guitarfish, a typical day in the field involved visiting one or multiple fishing sites and interviewing local fishers about guitarfish, sharks, and issues about marine sustainability. In total, we visited and sampled 20 different fishing villages and harbours in Goa. Some of these were tourist beaches, others were more isolated and sometimes quite challenging to get to.

Some fishers were enthusiastic to speak to us about ‘Ellaro’ or ‘Kharra’, as guitarfish are called in Konkani (the local language) and had numerous stories to share. Others couldn’t understand why we were interested in this ajeeb machli (strange-looking fish), as one fisher put it.

Conducting interviews and working with communities is not always easy; people can be suspicious and unwilling to speak, sometimes interviewees may lie (with good intentions) to give you the responses they think you want, and conversations can often take unexpected turns. But it can be a very rewarding process overall. The knowledge and experiences that some fishers have are unlike anything you could read in a textbook or scientific paper, and it can be a pleasure to document them.

Feeding time
Why do guitarfish come to such shallow waters? We suspect that many of these beaches, especially around river mouths, form nursery grounds for guitarfish, where females come to give birth to their young. Guitarfish, like many sharks and rays, are ‘viviparous’ or livebirthing, which means they give birth to a small number of young (called pups) and don’t lay eggs. Shallow, sheltered beaches near estuaries and rivers can form ideal habitats (nursery grounds) for the pups, because of the abundance of food and protection from predators.

Given their importance in the life cycle of guitarfish and other rhino rays, these habitats should be protected. However, in many parts of the world, these shallow estuarine habitats are facing severe disturbance from development, fishing, and other human activities.

In Goa, fisher knowledge has helped us identify the types of habitats and regions that guitarfish are found in (sandy seafloors near river mouths), and their seasonality (found most often during and right after the rains). Fishers also confirmed that they had seen small guitarfish feeding on crabs and molluscs in the shallow beach waters. We have broadly mapped the potential nursery sites and other essential habitats for guitarfish, and through further research, we can identify the areas that need to be prioritised and protected.

Communities and conservation
Alarmingly, fishers reported that not only sawfish but also wedgefish appear to be severely declining or even vanishing from this region. “We call this fish Anshi,” an older fisher remarked when I showed him a picture of a sawfish. His younger crewmates had not seen this species before and didn’t recognise it. “I haven’t seen this fish in at least 20 years. It’s gone from our waters”.

This isn’t the case for guitarfish, which continue to be fished in Goan seas. Fishers catch them as bycatch in all types of fishing gear, most often small-sized individuals (juveniles), which are considered to have low economic values and are used only for local consumption. In fact, more than half of interviewed fishers would discard the fish back into the water, dead or alive, if they were too small or they had caught too many.

When we spoke to them about the protection of guitarfish and other rhino rays, fishers’ attitudes seemed to support conservation.

“We don’t get them much, and don’t really sell them much, so if catching this fish is banned, it won’t make a difference to us,” a gillnet fisher told us.

All the fishers we interviewed stated that they may be willing to participate in conservation measures for rhino rays, which is a very positive finding. One young fisher explained, “If catching the guitarfish is banned, we can just release them back into the water and they will swim back to wherever they like to live. They stay alive for a long time even after we catch them, so they will be fine.”

At the time of this study, all species of guitarfish were legally permitted to be fished and were not protected. However, with recent changes in legislation, the wide nose guitarfish has been listed as protected, along with a few other rhino ray species. Our findings suggest a pathway for this legislation to be implemented in regions like Goa—where the rhino rays form low-value bycatch, live release measure through community participation would likely be more effective than top-down sanctions. Local knowledge of fishers will be essential to designing effective and fair conservation plans.

If guitarfish can be protected locally or regionally in places like Goa, then these sites could become sanctuaries for these highly threatened species. These small-scale successes could spell hope for the future and help save the guitarfish from becoming the next sawfish.

Further Reading
Kyne, P. M., R. W. Jabado, C. L. Rigby, Dharmadi, M. A. Gore, C. M. Pollock, K. B. Herman et al. 2020. The thin edge of the wedge: Extremely high extinction risk in wedgefishes and giant guitarfishes. Aquatic conservation: Marine and freshwater ecosystems 30(7): 1052–7613. doi.org/10.1002/aqc.3331.

Gupta, T., E. J. Milner-Gulland, A. Dias and D.Karnad. 2023. Drawing on local knowledge and attitudes for the conservation of critically endangered rhino rays in Goa, India. People and nature 5(2): 645–659. doi.org/10.1002/pan3.10429.

Acknowledgement:
This research was conducted by Trisha Gupta, EJ Milner Gulland, Andrew Dias, and Divya Karnad, and was supported by the Prince Bernhard Nature Fund and the Levine Family Foundation.

This article is from issue

17.2

2023 Jun

A tribute to Satish Bhaskar

Turtle walker extraordinaire – Rom Whitaker

In the early 1970s, the Madras Snake Park, located very close to the Indian Institute of Technology, was a magnet for a certain breed of student who just couldn’t bear the drudgery of a college education. Since I was of the same non-academic ilk, I encouraged them to hang out with us and help develop the Snake Park’s field activities of conservation and research. One of these stalwarts was Satish Bhaskar, a quietly intense young man from IIT, whose passion was jogging several kilometres each morning to Elliot’s Beach to have a swim in the ocean.

We had recently started nocturnal beach walks to find olive ridley sea turtle nests before the poachers got them and rebury them in a safe hatchery we had set up at the Cholamandal Artists Colony. Satish got into this routine with zest and his strength was a welcome addition when we had to carry heavy bags of eggs back to the hatchery. The rest of us at the Snake Park were hung up on snakes and crocodiles and it was Satish’s dedicated single-mindedness that made me suggest to him that India needs a Mr. Sea Turtle and he would be the ideal man for the job.

He obviously took this idea to heart and, starting with the meagre resources the Snake Park provided him, he began his sea turtle surveys. His intrepid trips covering both the beaches of mainland India and eventually the Lakshadweep, Andaman and Nicobar Islands were made possible by the World Wildlife Fund and other donors, and resulted in close to 50 reports, notes and papers. But it was his entertaining letters that grabbed us the most. Writing from the Nicobar Islands, he described the torture of sand flies during the day and by mosquitoes at night. One night on a remote Nicobar beach, he bedded down on the mat with mosquito net stitched to it (an invention we made). Very early next morning, he was awakened by a shuffling sound and he opened one eye to watch a saltwater crocodile walk past him and slide into the surf ten metres away. Surveying those beaches, he had to swim across frequent small estuaries, always keeping an eye out for crocodiles. In a remarkable nine-month trip in 1979, he covered almost all the islands in the archipelago and then returned several times in the 1980s to visit the others.

After his first trip to the Lakshadweep in 1977, he told us that he would love to stay and study the green sea turtle nesting beach on Suhelipara, one of the uninhabited islands. He said the only problem was that they nested during the monsoon and there was no boat traffic then as the seas were too rough. “I’ll have to maroon myself on the island for the whole monsoon,” he said with a smile. We started going over all the things that could go wrong, anything from a bad toothache to malaria or an upset tummy could put a real damper on this idea, but he was adamant and did maroon himself on the island between June and September 1982. Famously, his letter in a bottle floated to Sri Lanka and reached his wife just 24 days after he had thrown it into the surf at the edge of the lagoon. The boat that was due to pick him was just one month late!! But not much fazed Satish in the field.

Satish really kick-started interest in sea turtle conservation in India and I’m proud that I had a role in it.

Satish with Dhruvajyoti Basu, Rom Whitaker and Allen Vaughan and their haul of lobsters, caught while snorkelling off the coast at Mahabalipuram
Being inspired by the turtle man Kartik Shanker

When I met Satish in the late 1980s, he had just returned from his surveys in West Papua, Indonesia, that WWF had supported. The beaches were remote and accessible only by a boat that passed once in a few weeks. He was the first outsider that the Papuans in Wermon had ever met, and he communicated with the world by swimming out to said boat and giving them letters to post. He counted over 13,000 leatherback nests and tagged 700 turtles almost single-handedly. Over the next decade, the leatherback populations declined and the locals decided that Satish was the cause—that he had tagged the turtles with metal tags so he could steal them later with a giant magnet.

A dangerous garland on South Reef Island! Fortunately for Satish, sea kraits, though highly venomous, seem to be totally inoffensive. Note: Don’t try this!

In Chennai, we had just started the turtle walks through the Students’ Sea Turtle Conservation Network. As youngsters, we were all in awe of all the things that he had done, which of course we heard about from Rom Whitaker, Harry Andrews and others. Satish was too self-effacing to tell the stories, other than in a completely matter-of-fact way. His knowledge of sea turtles was vast and his attention to detail was exceptional, but his generosity outdid all of that. He shared his knowledge and his collection of papers and slides freely with us, including the first edition of Biology and Conservation of Sea Turtles, a collection of articles that emerged from the first ever global conference on sea turtles that was a bible for many years for the community. Satish’s article in the collection is the first comprehensive account of sea turtle nesting across India.

A few years later, Satish returned to the islands to survey Great Nicobar Island along with Manjula Tiwari and then decided to initiate a monitoring programme for hawksbill turtles on South Reef Island. He would camp out on this tiny island (just 700m long and a little over 100m wide) with his assistant Saw Emway and swim to Interview Island to get water. On one of those trips, they were chased by one of Interview’s feral elephants, and Satish threw his shirt off to distract it. He later retrieved the shredded shirt and posted it to his wife, Brenda.

Two integral people in the early Croc Bank days – Satish, our Field Officer and his wife Brenda, our Secretary. Image source: Madras Crocodile Bank Trust/Centre for Herpetology, Facebook, October 2022

In the early 1990s, Satish and Brenda, on a whim, decided to move to Goa, and he had little contact with his colleagues for several years afterwards. Aaron Lobo, an eager 12-yearold naturalist, happened to meet Satish in Benaulim, Goa, by complete chance. Satish’s children studied French with Aaron’s aunt, whom he would visit. From then on, he started visiting Satish regularly and they wandered about on the beaches and the scrub around Satish’s house, looking for snakes and other critters.

After completing his Masters at the Wildlife Institute of India, Aaron talked to Satish about an upcoming trip to the Gulf of Mannar to document sea snakes in the region. Since Satish had conducted his first field survey there, he decided to accompany Aaron and spend a few months with him. There were many interesting experiences and sightings, but most eventfully, they were at sea on a trawler on 24 December 2004, when the tsunami struck. Fortunately, the wave passed safely under their boat while they were sleeping. During this time, they travelled together to several parts of the Gulf of Mannar coast, snorkelling in the shallows. Over two decades earlier, Satish had seen giant spider conches numbering in their hundreds, but they had dwindled to just a few. During the night, they combed the beaches for sea kraits—sea snakes that came ashore to lay their eggs and digest their prey. Satish had encountered these frequently in the Andaman islands, but Aaron never found any in the Gulf of Mannar.

The rest of us had little contact with Satish in the intervening years. In 2010, we conducted the International Sea Turtle Society’s Annual Symposium in Goa. We honoured Satish with the Sea Turtle Champion’s Award. Though the who’s who of the global community were present, Satish declined to collect the award and I had to deliver it to him at home. But he did sneak into town to meet his old Karen friends who were attending the conference.

In 2018, filmmaker Taira Malaney and her team decided to make a film on Satish’s life. When we heard that they had convinced him to return to ANET and South Reef Island, the turtle fanatics Muralidharan, Adhith Swaminathan and I decided that we would just have to go along. We landed in Mayabunder and Satish had a touching reunion with Saw Uncle Paung, who had accompanied him on many of his early surveys.

A friendly forest officer offered to take Satish back to South Reef once he heard about Satish’s seminal surveys there. After a long boat ride, we reached Interview Island, where to our considerable surprise, we found Saw Emway, who had been Satish’s field assistant in the 1990s. We proceeded to South Reef Island, but the boat could no longer land there due to changes in topography after the tsunami. Satish, who until then had looked like the 72-year old he was, threw off his clothes, donned his fins, slipped into the water and started swimming to the island. Emway, the film crew and I quickly followed suit. On the island, Satish was rejuvenated as he walked around the island remembering where hawksbills had nested when he was there two decades earlier.

I’ve spent the last 25 years studying sea turtles across India. Everywhere I’ve been, from the Andaman and Nicobar Islands to Lakshadweep to Papua, Satish has been there before and left his mark. It’s easy to get obsessed with sea turtles, but even easier when you’ve had Satish Bhaskar as your mentor and inspiration. After recurring bouts of ill health, Brenda passed away in October 2022 and Satish a few months later in March 2023. He is survived by his children, Nyla, Kyle, and Sandhya.

There are many, many more Satish stories. Read about his adventures here:
https://www.seaturtlesofindia.org/talking-turtles/satish-bhaskar/
https://www.iotn.org/iotn12-07-special-profile-satish-bhaskar/

This article is from issue

17.2

2023 Jun

Unfettered and undeterred: Anne Theo’s tryst with marine biology

Unfettered and undeterred. Those words best describe the young woman who came into my lab and life in Anne Theo would get into the Ph.D. programme at the Indian Institute of Science the following year, but she spent her first months tinkering with some secondary data and helping me organize an international sea turtle conference in Goa. It was very clear from the beginning that she was fearless, both in her ideas and the things she did.

But one story captures her spirit and personality best. On our very first dive together in the Lakshadweep Islands, Anne got separated from us. Her fellow researchers and I surfaced after the mandatory search and became increasingly worried as there was no sign of her.

The sea was getting choppy and we were running out of options. Anne surfaced seconds later, about 10 metres away, looked at us and said “Where were you guys?”

Anne was never lost, the rest of the world was!

Anne had not considered in-water research when she began her PhD. In fact, she was not even a particularly good swimmer at the time. But we chanced upon mixed-species groups of reef fish based on a remark by Umesh Srinivasan, who was doing similar research for his PhD on birds. Anne latched on to the idea, and trained herself rapidly in the Institute’s swimming pool and got her dive certification as well. However, a larger problem loomed. Many marine biologists she consulted were not enthusiastic about her plan to study mixed species groups (MSGs) in reefs—they thought that reef fish MSGs were too ephemeral and might not be interesting.

Anne was undeterred. She spent her first field season in the Lakshadweep Islands gathering evidence that MSGs were common, could be video-graphed and that there were a host of interesting ecological questions that one could address about them. She gathered a massive dataset across four years, and made significant contributions to our understanding of fish MSG group types. Her work, which emphasised the fundamental ecological and behavioural differences between shoaling and attendant fish groups, would inform theoretical frameworks that were developed for a global review.

Bina, one of her closest friends from childhood, remembers how much she loved the ocean and how keen she was to share the joy with others through her encouragement and swimming lessons, that she imparted with ‘gentle and obsessive persistence’. Even in the field, Anne had a long history of friendships and partnerships. Over a period of several years, her buddies—on land and in the water —included researchers from multiple different institutions. She started her field work in 2011 with Rucha Karkarey from the Nature Conservation Foundation. Diving during the day, playing the guitar and writing songs in the evening (including classics such as Harami Gourami), the two livened up the Kadmat field station. She was also paired with her fellow student, Bharti, who was scoping a project on green sea turtles. She then worked for several seasons with Mahima Jaini of Dakshin Foundation; Mahima helped Anne with her dives, Anne helped Mahima with Malayalam.

Anne, Mahima and I made a memorable trip to Suheli Island in Lakshadweep in 2015. Uninhabited other than a police camp, fishers visit periodically during the fair season. Suheli is legendary because the late Satish Bhaskar, doyen of sea turtle surveys in India, spent five solitary months there during the monsoons in the 1970s to count and monitor green turtle nesting. We left before dawn, walking down narrow lanes to the beach; while the rest of us had perfunctory field backpacks, Anne had her large pink stroller suitcase that she took everywhere. We had hired two tuna boats to ferry us there, and caught tuna and other fish along the way. The diving was spectacular; at one point, Anne and I turned to see two eagle rays gliding effortlessly through the water. They swum languidly in an arc towards us, realized we were there and veered away with barely a wobble in their trajectory. A moment of surreal beauty that we remembered many times after. And then, later on the dive, work completed, she did a goofy dance underwater and we took some memorable comic photographs with Mahima.

On that trip, I met Jafer, who took our team out on his boat for their dive surveys in Agati and Bangaram. Jafer’s daughter, Nihla Fatima, then three years old was very fond of Anne and Mahima, and endeared herself greatly to all of us. The people I met and the spectacular diving there led to Moonlight in the Sea, an illustrated story about a little girl from the Lakshadweep who learns to snorkel and falls in love with marine life. One day, her boat gets swept away in a storm and she ends up stranded in Suheli, where she learns to fend for herself. When my illustrator was working on the book, she commented that the little girl was far too nonchalant for a 10-year-old stuck on a remote island. It struck me later that Anne had wormed her way into the young protagonist’s personality.

Later that year, when we got advanced dive training at Havelock Island in the Andamans, Anne was on hand to try and convince Priti Bangal, a new student and novice diver, to work on reef fish. Priti ended up working on birds, but Anne would get another opportunity to impart her vast knowledge of reef fish when she helped Bharat Ahuja with his field work in 2021.

We joked that Bharat had the most qualified field assistant that any student had ever had. From getting lost to leading dives, Anne had come a long way. Despite significant struggles with her health during her PhD, she never gave up her passion for science and fieldwork. She mentored a host of junior students doing marine ecology in both analysis and fieldwork, including identifying surgeonfish and parrotfish species that only she could tell apart. She escorted Meenakshi Poti to Lakshasdweep and helped her get started on her project on green turtles. She worked with Ajay Venkatraman on an analysis of her data during the COVID-19 lockdown, when Ajay was stuck in India waiting for the Australian borders to open so he could start his PhD.

She loved the ocean and fieldwork, but she was a whizz at R, and taught courses and workshops in statistics. In the summer of 2022, she was my (vastly overqualified again) teaching assistant for a quantitative ecology course at the department, one that I was teaching for the first time. Having Anne to talk to about my struggle to relearn equations was a relief in no small measure.

In the last year, she also played a key role in developing and proposing a special issue on mixed species groups in the prestigious journal, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B, working closely with her co-editors Todd Freeberg, Nora Carlson and Eben Goodale. The last paper she worked on is included in the theme issue, which is dedicated to her.

Anne’s plans for the world were unfettered. She was innately caring and carefree, but she also wanted to stomp on things that she found unfair, illogical or senseless. She wanted to create a science cooperative that transcended the politics and pitfalls of academia. She wanted to end patriarchy and capitalism. Tragically, before she could do any of those things, Anne passed away on February 6, 2023. She leaves behind a vast community of close friends, colleagues and family who will miss both her fierce arguments and easy affection. She is survived by her husband and fellow ecologist, Guillaume Demare, her brother, Dennis, and her mother, Mary. The lasting impression she made on people and the legacy of her research will live on.

Anne, so long and thanks for all the fish stories!

Anne Heloise Theo (August 28, 1985 – February 6, 2023)

This article is from issue

17.2

2023 Jun

Linking eco-credits and livelihoods with marine conservation in coastal East Africa

Mwandazi Kassim Shee runs a small successful retail shop, selling items such as soap, tea, bread, milk, flour, and vegetables. But things were not always like this; very much like other people in her area, cassava and coconut were her only source of subsistence, and every day was a struggle to survive. Mwandazi is a resident of Majoreni, a small town in Kwale county, along Kenya’s southern coast. In coastal Kenya, many women cultivate coconut trees and cassava plants and sell the surplus. But with excess supply from all the farmers, the demand has not increased, which means the profits barely help make ends meet. Kwale county is one of the poorest in Kenya, with a poverty rate of nearly 42 percent compared to a national average of 12.2 percent.

But things are changing for the better for Mwandazi. She is a member of the Shangani self-help group and one of the beneficiaries of an eco-credit scheme spearheaded by the NGO Coastal and Marine Resource Development (COMRED). COMRED works with communities to preserve marine resources in coastal Kenya for the benefit of nature and people, and the eco-credit scheme, through ‘grants’, is giving the community groups an incentive for conservation as they boost members’ livelihoods.

Majoreni and similar eco-credit groups are under no obligation to reimburse COMRED, but there is a condition attached: members must actively engage in conservation initiatives to be eligiblefor the ‘grant’. In this way, the grant transforms into a self-sustaining fund, with group members providing loans to one another while maintaining their involvement in conservation efforts. The range of environmental conservation activities is extensive and typically involves activities such as cleaning up beaches to remove plastic waste, planting mangroves, conducting patrols of fisheries and mangrove forests, as well as educating other community members on environmental issues.

“I’m now able to pay school fees for my kids, compared to before when it was a struggle. And in Majoreni, we now understand better why it’s important to protect the environment. For example, fish get a place to breed in the mangroves, and they also get food. So we must help to stop mangrove degradation. Our economy as a people is based on the ocean,” Mwandazi says.

How it started

Kwale’s coast stretches approximately 250km and is divided into 22 local fisheries management associations known as Beach Management Units (BMUs). These BMUs are responsible for looking after fishers and fisheries activities. Many coastal community members are low-income fishers, small-scale fish processors (98% women) or traders who don’t have access to formal and reliable financial services and struggle to save and get loans. To try to help people and solve the ocean’s challenges simultaneously, COMRED introduced this eco-credit system that provides people in coastal communities with loans tied to carrying out marine conservation activities.

COMRED launched the Kwale Community Eco-Credit Fund in April 2022 with seed money of Ksh 800,000/ USD 6,400 and gave the first 10 savings groups Ksh 80,000 (around USD 700) each. Each group then develops a marine conservation action plan, such as planting and protecting mangrove forests, providing community services, and doing beach cleanups. The conservation action plans address issues that are part of a wider problem in a national context.

Coastal communities in Kwale, like in all other coastal Kenyan communities, face various challenges affecting their livelihoods and environments, such as marine and coastal degradation, population pressure and climate change. This has led to the overuse of marine resources and a subsequent decrease in productivity, forcing these dependent communities into poverty. This becomes a vicious cycle, where poverty increases dependence on limited natural resources and exacerbates competition between nature and human survival, especially in the face of climate change. Therefore, communities often have to face the trade-off between pursuing livelihoods for subsistence and conserving marine resources by dedicating time and setting aside some habitats for conservation purposes. This is where the eco-credit scheme incentivises communities to participate in conservation while providing financial support to improve their livelihoods.

Members can access credit, grow the fund, and make it sustainable. Savings grow the seed capital, making more credit available to new and existing members. Community data monitors are trained to record conservation activities, such as the number of beach clean-ups conducted and mangrove planting carried out, as well as recording financial transactions, tracking each group’s progress, and sharing the data with the project team through a mobile application called ODK Collect. This means the community members can monitor their progress per the goals they set, not just for their conservation work but for their finances, giving them greater ownership and sustainability for the conservation work.

Getting inspired by others in the marine space: The Mwambao story

The eco-credit system, designed in consultation with the community and conservation micro-credit company GreenFi, has also seen strong community engagement in neighbouring Tanzania. The project was initiated by one of Maliasili’s partners, a marine conservation organisation, Mwambao. The eco-credit system known as ‘Mkuba – the fund to care for the sea’ has been running since July 2018.

The model’s effectiveness is apparent from its impressive results; not only is it delivering financial but environmental benefits as well. It has facilitated almost 370 community-managed loans to 213 beneficiaries across five groups. Over 50 percent of these beneficiaries are women, with the total value of loans exceeding USD 27,000, and the community has ensured that legal fishing gears have been adhered to, over 20,000 mangrove seedlings have been planted, and patrols and security of octopus closures have significantly increased, leading to increases in octopus landings and improved fisher incomes.

While on a field visit with our East Africa portfolio team, I had the opportunity to personally meet with one of the groups on Tumbatu Island, located off the coast of Zanzibar. The island is home to a vibrant and closeknit community, with around 13,000 residents who primarily rely on fishing and seaweed farming as their main economic activities. The rich marine environment around Tumbatu Island and along the northeast coast of Zanzibar is a traditional fishing ground for people from the entire region. The newly established marine conservation area also contains Zanzibar’s third largest mangrove stand.

Fishing has long been a traditional way of life for the people of Tumbatu Island, but much like other East African coastal communities, they have been facing challenges from overfishing by illegal fishers from other areas, which has led to the depletion of fish stocks as well as damage to the marine ecosystem through the illegal harvesting of mangrove forests. The island’s residents also have limited access to healthcare, education, and basic infrastructure. During this meeting, I heard directly from the group members about the impact of the eco-credit scheme and how it’s improving their quality of life as well as the marine environment by giving the communities support to improve their livelihoods and an obligation to protect their environment.

Paving the way for innovative financing in marine conservation

These innovative blue loans projects provide coastal communities with much-needed access to credit to help them improve their lives and the environment around them. Communities have greater ownership and responsibility for the management of their environments.

The appetite and growing community interest in these eco-credit schemes open the door for the potential of broader implementation, not only in Kenya and Tanzania but around the world. With the ‘Ocean Decade’ and 30 by 30 all set to actualise in 2030, eco-credit schemes and blue loans provide an opportunity for coastal communities to gain some direct economic benefit from marine conservation. This motivates them to protect biodiversity, and the additional income also improves their financial well-being.

This article is from issue

17.2

2023 Jun

Wild tulips fight to survive in their ancestral home 

Tulips are one of the world’s most well-known spring flowers. Like all other garden plants, they have natural ancestors, and surprisingly these do not grow in the Netherlands—the country that exports the majority of horticultural tulips. In fact, most wild tulips can be found in the steppes, semi-deserts, and mountains of Central Asia, where over half of all known species of wild tulip grow. The number of wild tulips is dwarfed by the tens of thousands of horticultural varieties, yet the large number of species found in Central Asia makes this region a diversity hotspot for this plant group.

These wild tulip species harbour genetic resources that may be crucial for future breeding efforts, especially with respect to disease resistance and tolerance to climate change. They also act as indicators of overall ecosystem health, i.e. they provide an important signal if their habitat is being damaged. The flowers provide important resources and homes for insects, most notably supporting the insect populations that may also pollinate crop plants. Furthermore, wild tulips hold significant cultural value in this region, with local communities often possessing knowledge about where they occur close to their settlements. Therefore, they are a valuable asset, especially to local communities. However, limited understanding of natural diversity, the impact of climate change, and the effects of environmental disturbance have made it challenging to develop a solid conservation plan for these plants.

Many flowers of Tulipa dasystemon blooming after the snow melt in a mountainous meadow area in northern Kyrgyzstan. This species is considered Least Concern.

Since 2018, a team led by Fauna & Flora International has been proactively working on solving some of these issues. Specifically, I—Brett Wilson, a PhD student at the University of Cambridge and Dr. Sam Brockington the Curator of Cambridge University Botanic Garden—have been part of a research team that focuses on using technical knowledge and local expertise shared across organisations, to tackle these challenges. Sam and I have been working most closely with Bioresurs—a Kyrgyz conservation NGO, the National Academy of Sciences of the Kyrgyz Republic, and the Gareev Botanical Garden in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. Additionally, we have also developed collaborations across the region, including in Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and Kazakhstan. This includes a range of botanic gardens where we have actively expanded tulip collections, not only for public viewing but also for both scientific and conservation purposes—an often-overlooked role of global botanic garden plant collections.

The team from the National Academy of Sciences of the Kyrgyz Republic led by Professors Kairykul Shalpykov and Georgy Lazkov with Brett in Sary-Chelek Biosphere Reserve.

The first task for our team was to improve our knowledge of tulip taxonomy. Without this fundamental information, conservationists struggle to appropriately target and obtain funding as well as carry out mitigation and management. In recent decades, it has become easier and cheaper to sequence DNA, and to use this information to infer whether the target plants are distinct species, and how these species are related to one another. Simultaneously, there has also been an increase in sources of tulip material, especially across the global botanic garden network.

Over the past four years, our team has collected and sequenced DNA from leaf material sourced from: an array of wild tulip populations in Central Asia, the living collections of several botanic gardens, and herbarium material—some of which was collected nearly a century ago. This allowed us to survey over 86 percent of all currently recognised species, as well as many plants collected under old names that are no longer recognised as species. Through this huge effort, we discovered the existence of a new subgenus, and reorganised many sections to simplify these groupings. Based on the data, we were able to reinstate several species, declassify some that are no longer considered separate species, and we also discovered a new species which we formally described in the summer of 20221.

Tulipa korolkowii, pink form, found growing in the Batken region of southern Kyrgyzstan. This species is now recognised as Near Threatened.

Genetic data can be used to explore the evolutionary history of a plant group across millions of years. Understanding the history of tulips is important as it can allow us to identify the geographic origin of this plant, as well as begin to understand where, when, and why it diversified. In turn, this can help us pinpoint the areas of distribution that are most important for conservation as well as specify which species are the most genetically unique. We were able to show that wild tulips originated in the broader Central Asia region with the most recent common ancestor estimated to have existed here around 23 million years ago. In addition, we discovered that this part of the world was crucial for the diversification of wild tulips throughout their history. The explosion of different tulip species in Central Asia could be linked to aridification, development of large mountain ranges, and global cooling. Strikingly, we were also able to show that tulips most likely moved out of the region through the Kazakh and Russian steppes into the Caucasus, from where they spread into the Middle East, Mediterranean, eastern Europe, and Iran. Very few species seem to have made it south out of Central Asia due to historical barriers such as deserts and seas. Crucially, all this work demonstrated that Central Asia is both historically and currently important for tulips, emphasising the need to conserve these flowers and their habitats in the region. 

Tulipa anisophylla growing in the Darvoz mountains of Tajikistan with the Hindu-Kush mountains of Afghanistan in the background. This species is considered Vulnerable.

Central Asia has seen several decades of instability, with the collapse of the Soviet Union leading to economic issues, border disagreements, and political uncertainty. Thus, Central Asian countries often struggle to collaborate on policy and management approaches. This is a major problem for biodiversity, which doesn’t abide by borders or nationality. Although individual countries (e.g., Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan) have undertaken national assessments of tulip diversity, few studies have looked at the region as a whole. 

It is important to work at a larger scale in order to predict and protect wild tulips from the effects of global threats such as climate change. We used a large dataset comprising the location points of tulip populations to predict the impact of different climate change scenarios. Our findings pointed to vast reductions of suitable tulip habitat by 2050, including inside designated reserves. Our study predicted that most species would only survive at higher altitudes. Overall, not only did this work highlight the threat of climate change to biodiversity in the region, but it also provided important information to help policymakers and conservationists take action to protect tulip diversity. This will hopefully act as a rallying call for greater regional collaboration on this and other conservation efforts—especially those related to large-scale threats, such as climate change. 

Tulipa ostrowskiana growing on the edge of a steep slope in the northern Kyrgyz region of Chuy. This species is now recognised as Near Threatened.

We felt that a good starting point to promote regional cooperation would be making use of the IUCN Red List. The online resource aids in raising awareness and catalysing action by indicating the conservation status of specific species. In order to add wild tulips to the Red List, we created a network of experts from across Central Asia. This ensured better communication, sharing of data, and collaboration—linking up a wealth of country-specific information—so that researchers could conduct a more cohesive, border-spanning assessment of tulip populations. This process took place in several stages: writing initial draft reports for each species, obtaining inputs from regional experts (at a workshop held in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan), asking an expert to review the reports, and finally, ensuring the reports met IUCN’s standard. These efforts led to collated information about the species’ population sizes, locations, threats, habitat, and required conservation action. 

After around two years of hard work, we were able to ensure that reports for 53 species of wild tulips from Central Asia will be published in December 2022. The reports show that approximately 51 percent of all assessed Central Asian species are Threatened: six are Critically Endangered, six are Endangered, and 15 are Vulnerable species, with 14 other species considered Near Threatened. They highlight the precarious situation of wild tulips in Central Asia, especially as a result of livestock overgrazing and climate change. It is clear that urgent conservation attention is required, but we hope that the collaborations to date have brought together the people and information which will be fundamental in stopping the decline of these species. 

Tulipa tetraphylla growing in heavily grazed pastureland in Kyrgyzstan. Grazing is a significant threat to many tulip species. This species is considered Least Concern.

At the moment, wild tulips continue to bloom in the Central Asian landscape every spring, yet our work shows that this may not always be the case. Although new species continue to be found in this mountainous haven, we may still be losing tulip diversity overall, potentially including many undescribed species. A stable taxonomic framework has now been established, which can hopefully underpin a wave of more effective research and conservation. Our partners have simultaneously been working on expanding botanic garden collections of wild tulips and promoting better management of pastures where they grow. We hope that our work will help preserve this beautiful flower in its native home, so that when spring rolls around once again, we will see the meadows, grasslands, and deserts alive with the colours of flowering tulips. 

Tulipa maximowiczii found growing in the grassy hills of southern Tajikistan. This species is still considered to be a form of Tulipa linifolia and so has not been Red Listed, although this may change in the future if more evidence of its uniqueness is found.

Reference:

1https://www.botanic.cam.ac.uk/dna-techniques-reveal-new-tulip-species/

Reflections from the field: What a week by the sea taught me

I slowly lifted myself to a sitting position on the small boat floating off the Gulf of Mexico in Bahía de los Ángeles. It was the final day that my peers and I were attempting to catch our first glimpse of a whale shark. I started to feel a bit nauseous, as I had been in a wetsuit on the boat for over four hours. I touched my motion sickness patch for the hundredth time to make sure it was still there. I thought to myself: how does someone prone to seasickness end up in marine conservation? It was early in the fish spawning season, so the chances of seeing a whale shark were slim. As we waited, I reflected on the other experiences during my brief time in Mexico.

It was June 2019, and I was there with Miami University’s Project Dragonfly for the Earth Expeditions course. Setting out from San Diego, a 10-hour van ride turned into 13 hours after multiple flat tires. We eventually arrived at Rafa Galvan’s family ranch, Rancho San Gregorio. The Galvan family hosts a few student trips every year from Miami University that visit to learn about desert ecology. The ranch exists in a desert biodiversity hotspot with natural springs flowing to it, and it is home to many endangered species. I thought an oasis was mainly the stuff of movies, but when I saw the palm trees surrounded by cacti, my first thought was, “THIS is an oasis.” 

I live in Alberta, Canada, the land of cold prairies where the temperature rarely creeps higher than 30°C. I was enthralled by desert temperatures and a sense of isolation. On the ranch, my fellow students and I learned introductory field data collection methods, statistics, and the process of inquiry-based science learning. This was my first course for graduate school; my main goals at the time were to learn about statistical analysis and how to advance my career through this degree. However, what I witnessed through this trip of a lifetime was so much more than what I had bargained for. 

The entire 10 days, we slept on cots under the stars. It sounds cliché, but I had never seen so many stars in my entire life. I remember the first night I woke to the sound of sand shuffling underneath my cot. It was the Galvan’s family dog, Lola. She jumped up onto my cot and laid with me for a long while before hopping off and doing the same with another human. As a full-time animal caretaker at a zoological institution, I have always felt a strong connection to animals. Lola knew how to make people feel at home. Lying awake and looking at the stars, I thought of my peers. We all lived different lives and came from around the world, but found ourselves here for the pursuit of knowledge. We were instructed to go outside and simply ask comparative questions. This is known as inquiry learning, where asking simple questions may lead to scientific observation and discoveries. This is another special part of fieldwork that not many consider, the meeting and collaborating with new people. These field trips open networking opportunities for future research projects.

After a few nights, we drove two hours to the Vermilion Sea Institute, operated by Meghann McDonald. The Institute is a research facility right off the water in Bahía de los Ángeles, where students, researchers, and community members are welcome. I participated in a nighttime snorkel and observed octopi, saw a pod of cetaceans, and even a harem (group of females with one male) of California sea lions. I work with California sea lions, but swimming with wild sea lions in the ocean is an entirely different experience. There were two rafts (a group of sea lions with heads out of water) calling to each other. I remember looking underwater and seeing all the females swimming past. They looked at me with big brown eyes, especially interested in my bright yellow fins. I remember seeing the male sea lion giving me a side-eye look, which meant it was time to go. It was such a special moment because rarely do you observe an animal that also observes you. I had been to the Gulf of Mexico when I was young, but I had never seen ocean wildlife like this. It filled me with a strong desire to protect it. And to me, that right there is the most important aspect of field research. Witnessing firsthand the place and fauna or flora that we are researching, and gaining the connection to continue work in restoring habitats or conservation management practices.

Suddenly, I was snapped out of my reflection when the boat operator got a call—one male shark was spotted close to us. I jumped up and yanked the zipper of my wetsuit. I looked over to another boat, where my new friends and fellow students were cheering as they came out of the water after seeing it. Now it was my turn. I got a quick overview of instructions: no touching, don’t get too far away from the boat. Then I was over the side and in the water. Where was it, where was it? Did it already swim out of my reach? I frantically turned my head from side to side. Then I saw it coming from behind me on my right and swimming directly under me. I took off as fast as I could, and I couldn’t help squealing into my snorkel with pure elation. A whale shark! It was longer than the vessel I was on, and completely ignoring us, with some fish swimming under the pectoral fins tagging along. I swam and swam, it felt like I was next to him for an eternity and no time at all. I had gotten a big mouthful of water accidentally due to focusing too much on propelling myself and not on staying surface level. I had to stop and re-surface. We all hugged and cheered in elation for being fortunate enough to witness such an amazing wildlife phenomenon. To this day, I still remember that experience as if it just happened. 

The last night of the trip I remember staying up late on purpose to watch the night sky over the water, and I found myself overflowing with emotion. Not from fatigue of the hot days or homesickness, but from experiencing life here and how these families that hosted my cohort were working so successfully and happily in their community towards a goal of conservation action and education. I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking about how I wanted to have that same kind of impact on people. I wanted to emphasise the importance of focussing conservation efforts on local communities, branching out to international efforts. Often this aspect of conservation is missed in the big picture. Every difference matters, no matter how big or small we think it may be. Helping local communities with conservation practices, while also doing the same for tourists, and boosting the local economy? That sounds like conservation action I can get behind.

Acknowledgments:

I would like to thank everyone at the Vermilion Sea Institute that contributed to this amazing experience. This work was conducted as a part of graduate work through Project Dragonfly at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio. 

Searching for Seals

Southern California, USA: It’s midday in July. Looking down at Children’s Pool Beach in San Diego, I begin my daily count: 98 humans, 1 off-leash dog, and one harbour seal. Fortunately, the dog keeps its distance, but the humans do not, creeping close to take photos of the solitary seal.


This is the only seal I see all month.


Harbour seals are protected under the Marine Mammal Protection Act (MMPA), which prohibits disturbance. Hunting of marine mammals has drastically declined since the passing of the act in 1972, but other sources of significant human disturbance, such as ecotourism, persist.


Human disturbances can be quite detrimental to harbour seal populations, interrupting natural behavioural patterns. One of these behaviours is hauling-out: essentially just leaving the water for the land. Like all pinnipeds, harbour seals haul-out, and they do this year-round to reproduce, rest, avoid predators, and regulate body temperatures.

In California, the harbour seal’s behavioural need to haul-out on land year-round can become a catalyst for human-wildlife conflict over shoreline usage. One striking example of this is Children’s Pool beach in San Diego, California. This is an artificial beach that was constructed in the 1930s as a safe, sheltered area for children to swim in the ocean. By the 1990s, rebounding harbour seal populations began to use the sheltered beach as a rookery and haul-out area. Since then, Children’s Pool has become a significant source of conflict surrounding who should be allowed to use the space: humans, harbour seals, or both.


Rules and regulations surrounding Children’s Pool have changed over the years, but currently, the beach is closed to the public during the pupping season from 15th December to 15th May, and is open to the public the rest of the year. While this is a significant step in protecting harbour seals from disturbance during the winter and spring, Children’s Pool is used as a haul-out site year-round. The Seal Conservancy, a local nonprofit, has monthly counts of seals in the past nine years listed as high as 285 in May 2016, and as low as zero during some summer months in certain years. As part of my graduate studies, I wanted to learn more about how human presence impacted harbour seal haul-out behaviour.


Growing up in San Diego, I would see harbour seals at Children’s Pool Beach every time I visited. But while researching human impacts on these seals, I found almost none. I tried conducting observations at different times of day, different tides, different air temperatures and weather, but had little success.


Were the seals shifting their schedules to avoid humans entirely? Harbour seals in Washington state have been shown to shift their haul-out times to nighttime in June and July, since the beach is most crowded with humans during the daytime in those months. San Diego, California, is a major tourist destination, and July is by far our busiest month. Were the seals off foraging elsewhere, hauling out nearby instead of their usual spot? Was the human presence on the beach so overwhelming that it was too late to study its small-scale impacts on individual seals? After all these years, why do people insist on using this beach when there are so many other options? I left the beach with more questions than answers.


Just this year, a seasonal beach closure has been initiated for a nearby beach, Point La Jolla, which serves as an important pupping site for another marine mammal: the California sea lion. For the next seven years, this beach will be closed to the public from 1 st May to 31 st October, which is when California sea lions raise their pups on shore. In both cases, the MMPA has outlawed disturbance for decades, but a lack of enforcement has led to a lack of compliance. I hope that in the coming years, someone such as a park ranger could be stationed at these beaches to encourage guests to give seals and sea lions space, even when the beach is open.


This winter, the seals returned. With the beach closed to the public, they congregated to haul-out and care for the year’s pups. On May 15th , the ropes will come down and beachgoers will be back to sunbathe, swim, and take photos of seals, hopefully with no loose dogs in tow. I’ll be back too, ready to study the animals that eluded me last year.

Green peafowl can coexist with livestock grazing

Establishing nature reserves and prohibiting all major human activities is widely believed to be an effective strategy to protect biodiversity. However, it is challenging for policymakers to trade-off between the needs of local communities and conservation, especially when there is a conflict between wildlife and humans. For example, livestock grazing, which comprises an important part of the local people’s income in less developed areas, is regarded to have a major impact on native biodiversity across the world. Here I review a recent article that showed that complete prohibition of livestock grazing may not be necessary.

The subject of the article is the green peafowl (Pavo muticus), the largest extant pheasant (Phasianidae) species in the world and the only peafowl species native to China. The species was once common in China, but its population has declined substantially due to hunting and habitat loss. Currently, green peafowl in China is only distributed in Yunnan Province, and it is thought there are less than 600 individuals in the area. The remaining habitats of green peafowl are strongly influenced by anthropogenic disturbances, including infrastructure, agriculture, and livestock grazing. Thus, there seems to be an intractable conflict between local people’s livelihoods and the species’ persistence across the green peafowl’s range, especially in China.

Gu et al (2022) investigated the spatial-temporal response of green peafowl to free-ranging livestock in Yubaiding Nature Reserve, one of the main green peafowl habitats in Yunnan. They used camera traps to study peafowl distribution and their diel activity (the time of day when the species was most active) from 2020 to 2021. They produced a huge dataset of 13507 camera days, which is a way of measuring the cumulative sampling effort of a camera trap study, representing the number of cameras multiplied by the number of days each camera was used. In this sample, there were 130 independent detections of green peafowl.

The researchers found that green peafowl prefer dry pine forests with dense understorey shrubs, and they show significant avoidance of human residential areas and roads. However, surprisingly there was a positive association between green peafowl occurrence and the abundance of free-ranging domestic cattle and goats. Moreover, they found that green peafowl did not alter their behavior to avoid free-ranging livestock or human presence. Their findings suggested that large infrastructures are the main threat to green peafowl, rather than livestock grazing.

As livestock grazing comprises up to 60–70 percent of the gross household income of the local people, the authors suggest that prohibiting grazing in this part of China is neither practical nor necessary. To protect green peafowl, the forestry authorities should pay more attention to the highways and hydropower stations that are planned for development in this region. The authors also recommended that policymakers should take conservation objectives, ecosystem types, and the needs of local communities into consideration in grazing management. Indeed, policy based on the local conditions and the requirements and responses of specific species may help to ensure a sustainable future. 

Further Reading:
Gu, B., Y. Weng, Y. Diao, Q. Zhao, Z. Zhang, S. Tian, L. Bai et al. 2022. Is livestock grazing compatible with green peafowl (Pavo muticus) conservation? Potential chance of peafowl-human coexistence. Biological conservation 275: 109772. doi.org/10.1016/j.biocon.2022.109772

Images: Wikimedia commons

Can freezing frog sperm help with conservation efforts?

Many frogs all over the world are in danger of extinction, but scientists have strategies to try and prevent mass extinctions. Conservation translocation—movement of animals from one place to another—is one such strategy. For instance, animals bred in captivity can be released into the wild to repopulate areas where they have gone extinct. In addition, technologies such as cryopreservation that are often used in in vitro fertilization in human reproduction, can also be employed for conservation.

Translocation can potentially be combined with cryopreservation strategies involving frog sperm. Sperm or eggs can be frozen, stored for long periods of time, and thawed when needed to create new offspring. This method can be used to preserve valuable genetic material from threatened species.

However, there is no information on whether this method works in the wild for frogs. A group of us from the Memphis Zoo and Oregon State University set out to answer the question: can frogs produced from cryopreserved sperm be used to create new and healthy populations in the wild?

We conducted the first part of the research project in a laboratory. We captured and bred Fowler’s toads (a species of frog that lives in the United States) either naturally or through in vitro fertilization using cryopreserved sperm. Both groups of tadpoles, ‘natural-bred’ and ‘cryo-bred’, were hatched in the lab.

We then moved our study to a natural pond. We released tadpoles into enclosures within the pond and monitored them every few days by measuring their length to track how fast they were growing. These repeated measurements allowed us to compare growth and body size for the natural-bred and cryo-bred tadpoles.

For the final part of the study, we used mathematical modeling to make predictions about population growth. In real life, it is difficult or impossible to follow millions of tadpoles into their adulthood and determine whether they can produce healthy populations in the wild. This would take decades of research. Instead, mathematical models can take the difference in tadpole sizes between natural-bred and cryo-bred frogs and estimate what could happen to the population several decades into the future. 

After completing this project and analysis, we first found out that tadpoles that hatch by cryopreservation do not grow as quickly as naturally bred tadpoles. This finding means that some aspects of the freezing and thawing process created tadpoles that grow slower than natural-bred tadpoles, which then results in smaller juvenile frogs. Being too small is not ideal for any frog and its future offspring. Smaller frogs do not survive as well in the wild. They are more likely to be eaten by predators and grow more slowly in their adult lives. They also produce fewer offspring for future generations. 

One thing we were unsure of, was if the smaller toad sizes would be passed onto the offspring or if it is simply a result of the cryopreservation. Using our mathematical model, we could compare what happens to populations of translocated frogs if they are cryo-bred and the small size is passed on to its offspring, cryo-bred but the small size is not passed on, or natural-bred with no change in size. We found that if the small size caused by cryopreservation is passed on to future generations, then the smaller frogs cannot create a stable population in the wild and may go extinct. However, if the effects of cryopreservation are not passed down, the population can sustain itself, but will have a smaller population size as compared to the natural-bred frogs. This is a silver lining! From our study, we can suggest that conservation projects using cryopreservation may offset the smaller population size by simply translocating a higher number of tadpoles to begin with.

Cryopreservation is a promising tool, but we still have lots of work to do to make this work in the wild. Understanding exactly how cryopreservation impacts the growth of the species we are trying to save from extinction will be essential to making those efforts more successful.

Further reading:

Poo, S., A. Bogisich, M. Mack, B. K. Lynn and A. Devan-Song. 2022. Post-release comparisons of amphibian growth reveal challenges with sperm cryopreservation as a conservation tool. Conservation science and practice 4(1): e572.

Invasion to Recovery: A Saga of the Grasslands

The sub-Himalayan grasslands, as the name suggests, occur in the region where the Himalayan foothills converge on the plains. At the regional scale, these grasslands provide crucial wildlife habitat to a multitude of species and safeguard human well-being by ensuring water availability. At the global scale, grasslands play a critical role in mitigating the effect of climate change through carbon sequestration. Conversion of these grasslands into human-use areas has led to their rapid disappearance and fragmentation. The vast swathes of grasslands that once existed are now merely confined to a few Protected Areas in the country.

Manas National Park in Assam, India, still boasts of luxuriant grasslands chiefly composed of tall grass species. However, here too, the habitat is under threat. Biological invasion in the form of invasive alien plants (IAPs) is a prime cause of grassland degradation in Manas. An IAP refers to any plant that is not native to the area or region, and is capable of causing ecological damage by outcompeting native vegetation, subsequently leading to loss of habitat. In Manas, one can expect IAPs to inevitably push several rare and threatened habitat specialist species a step closer to extinction. While they have long been recognised as a threat in Manas, limited scientific evidence or data is available to make informed conservation decisions, especially with regard to IAP management. 

Invasive plants

We undertook a study in Manas National Park to understand the distribution pattern of IAPs and identify the drivers of invasion. We found that the grasslands in Manas are primarily invaded by two species: Chromolaena odorata and Mikania micrantha, which cover approximately 30 percent of the existing grassland habitat. Furthermore, using a technique called species distribution modelling, we predicted that in the absence of any management intervention, the entire grassland habitat is prone to invasion. 

Our study also focussed on developing measures to manage these IAPs and aid in recovery of native grasslands. We tested the efficacy of different methods to manage C. odorata and found that manual uprooting works best to control the species. The experimental plot that was subjected to the manual uprooting treatment had increased native species richness, density and cover as compared to the other two treatments (cut, and cut & burned) tested during the study. Additionally, the density and cover of C. odorata decreased significantly in this plot. 

Local youth engaged in removing invasive plants

Uprooting C. odorata before the flowering season for at least three to five years has proved to be an ecologically effective strategy, which can restore the entire native grass community. Although no supplemental grass plantation was carried out during the experiment, we suggest planting native grass slips after IAP removal for better results. In our efforts to address invasion, we engaged the local communities from the forest fringe areas. Being a part of the restoration process supplemented their livelihood and inculcated conservation-sensitive behaviour. 

For the last two decades, the park management authority has been working in tandem with conservation organisations and local communities to revive Manas. Although conservation efforts in the past have mostly been directed towards securing high profile species (such as the one-horned rhinoceros and Bengal tiger) and strengthening law enforcement, of late there has been a renewed interest in reviving the degraded grasslands. 

The grasslands in Manas National Park are sandwiched between the hilly terrain that is contiguous with Royal Manas National Park in Bhutan in the north and human-use areas along the southern boundary, allowing very little scope for their expansion. Besides, these grasslands are successional and in the absence of floods, there are no other natural factors that can rejuvenate and replenish the ecosystem. Proactive management interventions, such as arresting encroachment by trees like Bombax ceiba and Dillenia pentagyna, preventing invasion by invasive alien plants by the in invasive alien plants, systematic burning of grasses, and reducing unwanted human pressure are imperative for ensuring long-term conservation of the ecosystem and its dependent fauna.

Grasslands revived after three years of continuous intervention

Further reading: 

Nath, A., A. Sinha, B. P. Lahkar and N Brahma. 2019. In search of aliens: Factors influencing the distribution of Chromolaena odorata L. and Mikania micrantha Kunth in the Terai grasslands of Manas National Park, India. Ecological Engineering 131: 16–26.

Sinha, A., A. Nath, B. P. Lahkar, N. Brahma, H.K. Sarma and A. Swargowari. 2022.  Understanding the efficacy of different techniques to manage Chromolaena odorata L., an invasive alien plant in the sub-Himalayan tall grasslands: Toward grassland recovery. Ecological Engineering 179: 106618.

Understanding how experts classify species as extinct

Extinction risk refers to how likely a species is to go extinct. The criteria laid out by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) Red List are the gold standard by which the extinction risk of a species is assessed. Species are grouped into categories ranging from Least Concern to Extinct in the Wild. However, unlike all other categories, Extinct lacks a quantitative framework for assigning this category. Whether a species is extinct or not sounds fairly simple: if there are no individuals of a species left, then it is extinct. However, it is rarely so straightforward.

Why is certainty around extinction declaration important? If a species is not listed as extinct, the current rates of biodiversity loss can be underestimated, and misuse of already limited conservation resources may result. If we cannot provide rates of extinction, the margins of error can be quite large when we are speaking about thousands, hundreds of thousands or millions of species that could be going extinct.

In a recent paper, in Conservation Biology we sought to better understand what information experts value when making the call of whether a species is extinct. If we can build a consensus for what assessors rely on to declare extinction, the most reliable or common choices can form the foundation for these criteria. We sought to shed some light on what pieces of information assessors value the most to make an accurate decision on whether extinction has occurred, by using a survey-based method to assess the choice patterns of expert assessors who work for the IUCN SSC (the species survival commission). These are the people who are relied on to make decisions for extinction.

How do we come up with standards to assess if a plant, a fungus, or an antelope are extinct, using the same methods? The population of a species could be hard to calculate because where it lives is inaccessible, or it’s hard to find, it’s active during the night or it doesn’t make sounds that humans can detect. Thus, given the existing difficulties in assessing certain species, we explored what information expert assessors working on a diversity of species groups used when declaring a species as extinct. We used a choice experiment approach—a marketing method that presents participants with multiple scenarios and asks them to choose. Using this approach, we explored attributes or factors that are important when inferring extinction. 

The factors that were the most important were data availability, time from last sighting and population decline. These were decided as important attributes favoured by assessors when inferring extinction. In terms of interactions between these factors, by far the most significant was between data availability and the assessor’s Red Listing experience. This result has important consequences, and it points to the fact that the amount of data on species and time on the job influence decisions on extinction more than previously thought. Some of these results were also unexpected, for example, habitat availability had a negative estimate, meaning that it was not favoured by assessors. Although several of these attributes were significant in the decisions of assessors, there was a clear hierarchy of preference for certain attributes.

We hope that the results of our research knowledge can be included in the creation of extinction-specific criteria in the IUCN Red List. This would help conservationists be more certain when declarations of extinction are made and harness more information to design effective, evidence-based conservation plans for threatened or data-poor species.

Further Reading:

Roberts, D. L., A. Hinsley, S. Fiennes and D. Veríssimo. 2023. Understanding the drivers of expert opinion when classifying species as extinct. Conservation biology 37(1): e13968. doi.org/10.1111/cobi.14001