Author: Greta

The Madras Crocodile Bank Trust: Placing a premium on green open spaces

As a child, on every summer break from school, we would travel from Delhi to Chennai, my mother’s hometown. Visits to the local lending library and the churches my grandmother favoured, and stops for freshly fried banana and tapioca chips marked the tenor of my days. What stands out in my memory of that time, however, are visits to the Madras Crocodile Bank Trust. An hour’s drive south of Chennai (now along the East Coast Road), it had me dashing in wide-eyed wonder and excitement from the solitary enclosure for Jaws—India’s largest saltwater crocodile—to a feeding session where chunks of meat from deep buckets were hurled into a waiting mass of over a hundred reptilian bodies that would come racing from the edge of the pond they were sleepily inhabiting, clamouring over each other in a display of remarkable agility. In 2019, I had a chance to visit again after more than a decade and it evoked much the same response. Only this time, in addition to the muggers (marsh crocodiles), salties (saltwater crocodiles), and the easily distinguishable gharials with their long thin snouts, I found myself standing before the enclosures housing green iguanas, tortoises, and turtles, and also looking up at trees dotted in white with the egrets who nest there.

Founded in 1976 by conservationist Romulus Whitaker and Zai Whitaker—at a time when India’s crocodile population had been exploited to the brink of extinction—the Madras Crocodile Bank Trust and Centre for Herpetology is India’s oldest reptile conservation park. It now houses over 17 species of crocodilians—three of which are listed by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) as ‘critically endangered’—and is also a veritable bird sanctuary with over 60 species documented there, drawn to the water bodies, ponds and large trees that make up the space. With a strong focus on building knowledge and public awareness with local communities as well as school and college students, the Crocodile Bank is also a thriving example of what a conservation park looks like and why they are crucial.

Why conservation spaces are more important than ever

A report by the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) and the UN Environment Programme (UNEP) says that conflict between humans and animals is one of the main threats to the long-term survival of some of the world’s most iconic species, and India will be most affected by it. The biodiversity loss and extinction of species worldwide because of human action points to as much. 
In the last few years alone, headlines such as these have become a regular feature: ‘Crocodiles near Patel statue being relocated to make way for seaplane service’. In Gujarat, 500 muggers—one of the most endangered species—were being ‘relocated’ to make room for tourist planes. On the other side of the country, the nesting site of the giant leatherback turtles in Galathea Bay Wildlife Sanctuary in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands is being denotified for the construction of a mega shipment port. This, despite the turtles being listed in Schedule I of India’s Wildlife Protection Act (1972) according them the highest legal protection. And in cities like Mumbai, for instance, rich marine biodiversity that inhabits the intertidal zone between land and sea are being lost to a coastal road project, which is reclaiming land from the sea by dumping non-oceanic red mud that could suffocate this fragile ecosystem.

These so-called development projects are antithetical to what the pandemic has shown us—that more urgently than ever, there is a need to protect and preserve wildlife and the biodiversity of the planet. It’s where conservation parks like the Crocodile Bank have such a critical role to play in connecting children and adults alike to the natural world so that other species are seen as contiguous to the city rather than separate. 

“Instead of turning every other open space into money, if we actually left it, it’s even more valuable to us than a constructed space. Now we’re finding out that actually clean air and water are heavy cash,” says Zai, Managing Trustee of the Crocodile Bank, and children’s book writer.

The importance of open, green spaces has been well-researched and its benefits documented in multiple studies. A meta-analysis by the Lancet Planetary Health in 2019 found that green urban spaces help people live longer, in addition to boosting mental health, immune systems, and protection from diseases. It’s one of the main draws of the Crocodile Bank for those living in Chennai, and recognition and support for what it brings to the city’s inhabitants is evident in the support they receive.

“One of the few things I felt good about during the pandemic was that we got a lot of support from Chennai families. One kid was selling ice cream and sending us donations from his ice cream shop for the upkeep of the park. Chennai city sees the Croc Bank as one of its own,” says Zai. In a move to encourage and invite more people to spend time outdoors and amidst the rich offerings the space holds, benches with reptilian motifs and picnic tables have been added. “4.5 lakh people visit us every year and we see this as a very important thing which we must contribute to—more open space, more clean and more big trees to look at for people who come out of the city and who obviously need these resources. I’ve also met families walking around the Croc Bank and talking to people who say, ‘We come here for the trees.’”

The importance of education

In addition to making a strong case for conservation, the Crocodile Bank’s work with people in places like Agumbe, in the Western Ghats, is addressing and transforming how humans relate to some of the most feared creatures in the natural world—snakes. “We have a field station for the study and conservation and research of the king cobra, which as you know is one of the most interesting snakes in the world. When we first started, people would ring in a panic and say: There is a snake here, do something. Now, they will call and say, ‘Look there’s a king cobra in my yard. Don’t bother coming, if there’s a problem, I’ll call you.’ It’s really amazing. I would say that has happened because of three things—education education and education,” says Zai. By addressing fears and the sense of separation between humans and other species, they are demonstrating what is possible through co-existence and in extending respect for all creatures. 

This philosophy has also informed the kinds of workshops held at the Crocodile Bank, where behind-the-scenes guided tours of the park, opportunities to be a ‘junior zookeeper for a day’ and care for lizards, snakes and chelonians, have become ways in which to get better acquainted with other species. Another way to support and engage with conservation work at the bank is to ‘Adopt a Reptile’ which helps to cover the costs of feed, maintenance, vet care and build a sense of personal connection with reptiles. 

Making conservation a part of the everyday 

This spirit of being outdoors and observing the many shapes and forms that are part of the natural world, is what first got Zai—who comes from a family of naturalists—to begin her conservation journey. It’s what she believes is the way forward to have more and more children and adults reestablish their connection with the natural world. From paying attention to the many lifeforms that visit flowerpots or gardens to reassessing everyday items used in the household, such as paper towels, and going back to using cloth rags for cleaning, she encourages everyday action as a way to approach the idea of conservation.  

The work of conservation can sound like something undertaken by official bodies comprising experts and far removed from the everyday existence of an average citizen, but like Zai says, it is possible through simple, everyday action—regardless of your age. The question is, when are you setting out on your conservation journey?

Further Reading:

Gross E., N. Jayasinghe, A. Brooks, G. Polet, R. Wadhwa and F. Hilderink-Koopmans. 2021. A Future for All: The Need for Human-Wildlife Coexistence. Gland, Switzerland: WWF.

Rojas-Rueda D., M. J. Nieuwenhuijsen, M. Gascon, D. Perez-Leon and P. Mudu P. 2019. Green spaces and mortality: a systematic review and meta-analysis of cohort studies. Lancet Planetary Health 3: 469–77/  

Scroll. 2019. Gujarat: Crocodiles near Patel statue being relocated to make way for seaplane service, says report.

https://scroll.in/latest/910772/gujarat-crocodiles-being-relocated-to-make-way-for-seaplane-service-to-statue-of-unity-says-report. Accessed on May 2, 2022.
Deepika Khatri Author

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Finding Frogs and Tracing Tracks

മലയാളം मराठी भाषा

We walked quietly in the darkness, listening to the soundtrack of the jungle, insects buzzing, and leaves crackling. Our headlamps were on and we moved the light back and forth, hoping to catch the eyeshine of some kind of serpent. A fellow crew member walking ahead told us to pause as he saw something. We hesitated before creeping closer and our combined light revealed the owner of the eyeshine: a bamboo rat (Dactylomys dactylinus). Although I had been hoping for a snake, I was thrilled to lay my eyes on an animal I had never seen before.

Searching for snakes at night was one of many experiences I had last summer, when I travelled to the remote Peruvian Amazon, specifically in the Madre de Dios region. I spent a week volunteering with Hoja Nueva, an organisation dedicated to protecting this land and its inhabitants. While I knew I was going to love being outside doing hands-on work, I did not expect to become so enamoured with herping (looking for reptiles and amphibians) in such a short span of time.

The Amazon is often associated with its more charismatic creatures, such as sloths, giant river otters, and jungle cats, but the rainforest is also brimming with perhaps lesser appreciated, but equally impressive reptiles and amphibians. The abundance and diversity of these animals is truly astounding. My first exposure to this diversity and hands-on herpetology occurred the day I arrived. As we were eating lunch, I was told that the team I was going to be working with found two Amazon tree boas (Corallus hortulana) each with a unique colour morph. This species is usually brown, but of the two they found, one was brilliant orange and the other was banana yellow. The in-house reptile expert had caught these two special snakes for more examination and, that afternoon, we had a photoshoot. 

We took photos not only to document our findings, but also to share our passion for snakes with the world. Sharing images of our discoveries with others can be a great way to create empathy for snakes and to get people interested in their conservation. This objective is especially important because there are several misconceptions about snakes and negative attitudes towards them. Our hope is that showy photographs with informative captions about these amazing creatures will open the minds of viewers and lead to more successful snake conservation in the future. 

On the following evening, the tree boas were released on a night walk. Night walks happened frequently, during which the team searched for snakes and catalogued the frogs of the area. Having visited during the dry season, I did not have the opportunity to witness the true variety of Amazonian frogs, but nevertheless I encountered so many of them hopping from leaf to leaf. If the snake photography wasn’t already enough, venturing out on these night walks really solidified my newfound appreciation for herpetology. With headlamps aglow, we alternated looking for snakes’ eyeshine on trees and scanning the forest floor for frogs. I have always had an affinity for amphibians, but seeing tropical species that I hadn’t known existed furthered my fascination. 

One herpetology intern on the team was dedicated to the task of documenting every frog he found, and we were able to help him by scoping out frogs. After the frogs were found, we would measure how high off the ground they were, what their microhabitat was like, where they were found, and what species they were. The first frog that really caught my attention was a clown tree frog (Dendropsophus leucophyllatus), named for its markings, which are often white ovals stretched across its pale green body. Two of these were perched on leafy limbs and sat patiently while we took photos. In fact, we were also able to photograph several other frogs that evening.

While the nights were taken up by herping, most of my days were filled with hiking to set up camera traps (devices that use movement sensors to automatically photograph or record whatever triggers the sensor) and labelling the camera trap data. I was taught how to label the files and how to distinguish between different species in the images. The organisation already had a great deal of camera trap data (in the form of videos and photographs), which were utilised for various purposes, including keeping track of wildlife populations. I found the videos to be a little more exciting than the photographs, because the photos rarely captured images of wildlife. The sensors were frequently triggered by the movement of leaves in the wind. In contrast, the videos collected more wildlife imagery. I wasn’t expecting to see footage of felines walking by the camera traps in the day or so many tapirs eating at night. There is something exciting beyond words about being able to see cat tracks where you are walking, and then actually seeing videos of those same animals.

After learning how to tag the data and identifying which species weren’t caught on film, we set out to put up more camera traps, this time turning our attention to the trees. The team really wanted to film margays (Leopardus wiedii)—a small wild cat native to Central and South America—but doing so would not be an easy task. During our first attempt, our climbing rope got stuck in a tree. When we tried to untangle it, the rope hit the branch of a tree filled with fire ants and we fell prey to their wrath as countless angry ants rained down on us. With our rope line stuck and our skin irritated from ant bites, we decided to give it a rest for the day and scoped out other locations.

Getting a camera trap onto the tree is hard enough, but finding the right tree is a difficult prerequisite. This means narrowing down an area that your target species would most likely walk through. This is easier for terrestrial (ground) traps than arboreal (tree), as arboreal traps need to be facing vines, branches, or anything that could be climbed on or attract the target species. Once that’s out of the way, the camera needs to be angled correctly, be placed at the proper height for what you hope to see, while making sure it is hidden by leaves but that the leaves won’t block the camera.

To improve our chances of capturing these animals on camera, we went on an all-day hike to set up traps. We left shortly after breakfast and had to take a boat down to a nearby beach, where some members of the team had recently spotted cat scat. We climbed up this beach to a trail that sadly already existed as a logging road, but we were hopeful that the scat would lead us to more places suitable for camera trapping a variety of felines. We set up the traps at specific intervals and were happy to find more scat as well as a mix of jaguar, ocelot, and margay tracks. When it came time to set up a trap, it was all hands on deck to scope out a tree near other foliage that would attract wildlife, and trees that were near vines for our arboreal traps. The turnaround wasn’t quick enough for me to see the data from any of the traps I set up, but I hope they were in popular spots and that the team saw an abundance of wildlife once they reviewed the footage.

While I gained a first-hand appreciation for camera traps, I learned that not everyone is keen on them. Some neighbours worry that the cameras could capture them doing something illegal, and thus the traps have been destroyed before. In other circumstances, the traps are sometimes stolen, either out of fear or mistrust, or perhaps to be sold for a profit. I am curious as to how these misconceptions can be addressed. In the meantime, we just had to be sneaky about installing them. 

Being in the field of conservation can be daunting at times, but seeing so much biodiversity filled me with hope and inspired me to continue doing this work. However, I realise not everyone will have the opportunity to see these animals in person or set up camera traps for them. We must find more accessible ways to engage people with conservation and create a desire to protect wildlife. Perhaps the snake photos will change some people’s perspective on reptiles. If others could see images from our camera traps, they could develop empathy and an interest in wildlife conservation. Whatever it is, we have to keep trying and challenging our own attitudes, too. For now, I am left with incredible memories of my experience and a desire to keep the Peruvian Amazon safe.
Jennifer Udema Author

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How we can safeguard rare cases of cooperation between people and wild animals 

Feature photo: Human-dolphin cooperation at Tramandaí Inlet, southern Brazil, CC: Botos da Barra Project

In a few African cultures, people look for wild honey with the help of greater honeyguides (Indicator indicator). These birds lead the way to wild bees’ nests, then eat the wax that people leave after the honey harvest. In a similar way, groups of fishers in Myanmar and Brazil cooperate with wild dolphins to catch fish: the dolphins drive fish towards nets on the shoreline, improving the overall catch. Human-honeyguide and human-dolphin cooperation are the only remaining examples of cooperation between people and wild animals known to scientists. They were once far more widespread, but due to cultural and ecological change they are now at risk of being lost.  

Lahille’s bottlenose dolphin eating fish at Tramandaí Inlet, southern Brazil, CC: Ignacio Moreno

In our recent article in Conservation Letters, a large, multidisciplinary team of 41 authors from 18 different countries reviewed the benefits brought by these fascinating and rare cases of human-wildlife cooperation, as well as the threats and unique safeguarding challenges they face.  

Yao honey hunters harvesting honeybee honey in Niassa Special Reserve, Mozambique, CC: Jessica van der Wal

For the people involved, human-wildlife cooperation leads to more and better harvests (that is, honey or fish), compared to similar artisanal harvesting without the help of a wildlife partner. These resources provide food security and boost income. Cooperating with wildlife also brings important cultural benefits to people, such as a sense of identity, belonging, and recreation. For the wildlife partner, cooperation with humans increases their access to food: bees’ wax and larvae for honeyguides, and fish for dolphins. These benefits to both partners make these cases of human-wildlife cooperation worth protecting. Both human-honeyguide and human-dolphin cooperation occur at multiple locations which differ in local human cultural practices. Wildlife partners adjust their behaviour to this variation in human culture, leading to a complex mosaic of wildlife populations that differ in the way they cooperate and communicate with humans, thereby increasing biodiversity. However, these animal populations often have cultures of their own: human culture affects animal culture, and vice versa! 

A wild greater honeyguide (Indicator indicator) waits patiently while a local honey hunter harvests a bees’ nest. This bird cooperated with the honey hunter, leading him to the location of a hidden bees’ nest by calling loudly and flying towards it. After the honey hunter harvest the honey, he will leave a piece of beeswax to thank the bird for its assistance. Humans have similarly cooperated with other wild animals, including several dolphin species, orcas (Orcinus orca), and wolves (Canis lupus). CC: Dominic Cram

These unique cases of human-wildlife cooperation face a specific set of conservation challenges. They need four components to function: a motivated human partner; a motivated wildlife partner; a suitable environment; and compatible knowledge and skills to engage in the interaction. Our review highlights that a mix of environmental and cultural changes can threaten these four components: loss of interest by the human partner due to economic reasons or displacement, for example by the exclusion of people from conservation areas in Africa or urban development in southern Brazil; wildlife numbers decreasing due to degraded habitats; scarcity of prey sources, often because of human impacts on the environment; and fading knowledge or skills in the younger individuals, of both people and their wildlife partners. 

A fisher waiting for the dolphin cue at Tramandaí Inlet, southern Brazil, CC: Ignacio Moreno

In decades and centuries gone by, people have also cooperated with orcas to kill whales, and with wolves to hunt large mammals, but these cases of human-wildlife cooperation were wiped out by ecological and cultural change. This is a vivid reminder that human-honeyguide and human-dolphin cooperation are also at risk of decline and loss.

To safeguard the remaining cases, our review provides guidelines for developing conservation measures tailored to local conditions. We recommend enforcing legal protection of cooperative sites, while supporting local communities’ participation in human-wildlife cooperation. Human interest can be maintained and encouraged by campaigns to affirm the value of local practices. This could be achieved by raising outsider awareness, and by financial incentivisation including eco-tourism and elevated sale prices for fish or honey harvested through human-wildlife cooperation. The wildlife partner’s participation may rely on a limited number of individuals that act as knowledge repositories and ‘demonstrators’, and conservation work should focus on identifying and protecting these high-value individuals. Finally, we need to promote and archive local ecological and cultural knowledge, both to ensure that interspecies knowledge remains compatible, and to better our understanding of these interactions and their threats. 

Our review raises awareness of the unique value of human-wildlife cooperation and highlights that conservation efforts need to consider not only human and animal cultures, but also the interaction between them.

We are grateful to our review co-authors, to the communities with whom we cooperate in our research, to the Niassa Special Reserve in Mozambique, and to the European Research Council for funding our work. Read more about our research on human-honeyguide cooperation on www.AfricanHoneyguides.com.

Original paper: 

van der Wal, J. E. M., C. N. Spottiswoode, N. T. Uomini, M. Cantor, F. G. Daura-Jorge, A. I. Afan, M. C. Attwood et al. 2022 Safeguarding human-wildlife cooperation. Conservation Letters 15(4): e12886.
Jessica van der Wal Author

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Using conservation to achieve sustainable development goals 

The United Nations Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) are a global call to action. Together, the 17 SDGs provide a blueprint for building a more equitable and sustainable future, broken down into targets with indicators to measure progress towards meeting them.  

The deadline for achieving the SDGs is 2030, but with only eight years to go, there is still much to be done. Many of the challenges we face are complex and require coordinated efforts across different sectors—such as governments, private industry, and academia—to meet these goals that are key for sustaining life on the planet.  

While each SDG focuses on a different topic, many are interconnected, which should help to build bridges across disciplines. After all, protecting biodiversity and promoting human well-being are inextricably linked, so conservation offers an important pathway to multidisciplinary action. However, because activities involving nature fall most directly under Goal 14, “Life Below Water,” and Goal 15, “Life on Land,” the SDG framework effectively limits the perceived contribution of conservation to these two ecological goals. This is a misconception. If the co-benefits of conservation are made more visible within the framework, we can more effectively support activities that have the potential to achieve numerous targets across the 17 SDGs.

WLS Research Map CC : Canty et al. 2022

Using conservation science to serve both people and nature is the philosophy behind the Smithsonian Institution Working Land and Seascapes (WLS) Initiative, which supports 14 projects across 13 countries. WLS members have aligned with a broader movement to approach conservation planning and action holistically, fostering a common vision of healthy and productive mosaics of ecosystems and human uses.

A recent effort to “map” the network to the SDGs provides a case study for conservation organisations looking to collaborate around shared global goals. The mapping process allows projects to identify how their work contributes to each of the SDGs, exemplifying the broader implications of conservation research and actions to the sustainable development framework. 

Mapping of WLS projects was conducted using the World Business Council for Sustainable Development roadmap framework, an open access resource that organisations and sectors can use to map their activities to the SDGs. Researchers reviewed all SDG targets and identified WLS conservation project outputs that aligned, creating “matches” between conservation outcomes and SDG targets. Each match was confirmed with a verifiable source. This exercise revealed that the WLS network’s activities contribute to all but one of the 17 SDGs and nearly half of the 169 targets, highlighting how conservation actions have wide-ranging impacts.

For example, the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute Agua Salud Program conducts reforestation and mixed land-use experiments in the Panama Canal Watershed, contributing to 11 SDGs. This type of work is key for ecosystem restoration and climate change mitigation efforts, but Agua Salud’s findings also help local communities reduce flood risks and reap more economic benefits from sustainable forest management. 

Multiple research efforts of the National Museum of Natural History are focused on marine protected areas throughout the Meso-american Reef, along the Caribbean coasts of Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, and Honduras. The Marine Conservation Program and the Healthy Reefs for Healthy People Initiative work with partners to support community-led decision-making, from building resilience to extreme weather and climate change to providing sustainable income sources and food security. As a result, these projects align with multiple targets across 14 SDGs. 

A glimpse from Gabon CC : Landry Tchignoumba

Activities of the Smithsonian National Zoo and Conservation Biology Institute Gabon Biodiversity Program also contribute to 14 SDGs. Partnering with private industry and the government, their biodiversity research and anti-poaching measures are augmented by social science studies and educational outreach. This strategy addresses the socio-economic challenges that are often both cause and consequence of environmental destruction, supporting local communities throughout their transition to more eco-friendly and productive land-use practices. 

These are just a few cases where synergies between conservation research and human well-being can be found in the WLS portfolio, and there will be plenty more across the entire conservation sector. It can be difficult for organisations which are focused on different disciplines to “speak the same language”, creating a gap between efforts that may be more effective when combined. The mapping process allows us to understand where conservation can have the greatest impact, identifying contributions that achieve both nature-related SDGs and those seemingly beyond their scope.

By placing our work within a globally accepted framework, we aim to draw attention to how and where collaborations across sectors are required to reach SDG targets. By making the value of nature-based conservation interventions more visible to other sectors—as well as the co-benefits that come from working together—we can have more meaningful discussions about what we have in common and how we can put those principles into action.

We cannot waste any time or resources if we are to achieve the SDGs by 2030. By more purposefully coordinating our actions and incorporating conservation into the sustainable development framework, we have a better shot at overcoming the challenges threatening our shared future. 

Original paper

Canty, S. W., A. J. Nowakowski, G. M. Connette, J. L. Deichmann, M. Songer, R. Chiaravalloti, M. Dodge et al. 2022. Mapping a conservation research network to the Sustainable Development Goals. Conservation science and practice 4(7): e12731. https://doi.org/10.1111/csp2.12731. 
Sarah Wheedleton Author
Steve Canty Author
Jessica Deichmann Author

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THE MORNING THE LANGUR CALLED

Winding roads in the Corbett buffer zone provided thoroughfare for foraging elephant herds, free-roaming cattle, quiet slithering reptiles, darting kingfishers & redstarts along flowing streams. And, for a short while, me, as I walked from one village to another for work. Mohan—meaning ‘enchantment’—was the village I stayed at, and Bhakrakot, the village I walked up to for work.

Bhakrakot could mean ‘home of the goats’. It could be that there was a time when these hills were the homeland of goats. I have seen no goats here; plenty of deer though—spotted deer, barking deer, and sambar. The barking deer gets its name from its alarm call—a single syllable bark, repeated many times. It is a suspicious little creature, easily alarmed.

Walking up the hill this morning, what I heard was no short bark but a burst of animal sound. The tension could be felt in the silence that followed—even the trees seemed to freeze, holding their breath. Looking up as I came into a clearing, I saw a changeable hawk eagle, widely spread wings now folding as it made a silent landing—its quiet movement a great contrast to the anxious call that filled the forest just moments ago. Perched straight up, vigilant and alert, it seemed to embody the stiffness of the Sal tree it now perched on.

The call repeated. This time, I was able to locate its source—a grey langur. Sitting on a perch a little below the bird, also very still and alert. I looked keenly at him, wondering whom he was warning and about what. Could it be a leopard? A tiger? Or was he warning the smaller creatures of the majestic bird of prey above him?

I stood there for several minutes—watching the bird, watching the langur—all of us in a trance of stillness, waiting for movement. I was to later learn that a langur calls out in alarm only when it has sighted a big cat. Stealth & surprise attack being the strongest hunting tactic of big cats, the langur’s call communicates that the cat isn’t as concealed as it may have wished!

And so it was that this morning, I stood watching a langur that sat watching a big cat. A bird, a primate, a cat, and I stood still in a Sal forest, exhaling into the same pocket of sunlit air.

 1Jim Corbett National Park is a wildlife sanctuary, rich in its diversity of flora and fauna. It is popular for being home to a significant population of the Indian Bengal Tiger. A buffer zone is the surrounding area adjoining a protected ecological area (core zone), and which allows for human habitation and activity
Ankita Rajasekharan Author
Ankita Rajasekharan Illustrator

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Learning locally with nature and art

Two become one

I’m an artist inspired by nature in my free time and a professional outdoor education specialist teaching about the natural resources in Nebraska, U.S.A, during my workday. Yet, art and science communication had been kept separate in my life. Both personally and professionally, I felt a pull to share my love of the natural world in hopes of inspiring others to love it too, but these things were always done independently. Looking back now, it seems a little crazy that it took a global pandemic to make me pause, to spur my creativity, and to bring art and science together. But ever since March 2020—when the COVID-19 pandemic struck—everything has become a little clearer. 

There is a definite need for scientific information and art to be joined together to effectively communicate and interpret the value of our local natural resources.

From the water that sustains life, to the ecosystem services that habitats like wetlands provide, an understanding of our planet and natural resources is essential to tackling big issues like climate change and habitat loss. For many, if we don’t see something, it simply doesn’t exist. Art might just be the key to helping every person, even those who don’t “like” science, to understand their role in the bigger picture.

I know, I know—this seems like a weird conclusion to come to in the middle of a worldwide crisis. But I was an outdoor educator who suddenly couldn’t take kids on hikes to explore the natural world because everyone was locked down inside their homes. I was also an artist who couldn’t stand the idea of wallowing when I could contribute something good. So, one day as I sat at the kitchen table thinking about what I could actually control, art and science became one, and as a result, the two once-separate parts of my life merged into a unified whole. 

The relationship between art and science

It’s not new, but the relationship between art and science has certainly ebbed and flowed through time. Initially, many scientists were simultaneously artists, using drawings and paintings to document their discoveries.

Leonardo da Vinci, John James Audubon, Maria Sibylla Merian, and several others contributed much of what is known about the natural world using visual art. Somewhere along the way, science and art took different roads. Though these roads crossed at times, for a while it seemed that the old connection was not as foundational as it once was. Recently, scientists and artists have begun working together more intentionally, but it can look different depending on the desired outcome. Sometimes it’s just to illustrate something like a microscopic cell for a scientific textbook, while at other times, it can be a large mural in a children’s museum. Art can help explain complicated scientific concepts and globally relevant information, but how often is it used to specifically connect people to the natural resources around them?

A personal twist

My passion lies in teaching people of all ages about their everyday ecosystems and the species they can find in their own backyard here in Nebraska. Some may argue that there should be a greater focus on endangered or threatened species because they are more important, and maybe this is true in some sense. But, we cannot expect for someone to go from zero experience in the outdoors to a 100 percent fully invested, conservation-minded decision-maker with nothing to help get them there. We can begin this journey by connecting people to their own natural surroundings and the living beings found there, and this process takes time.

When I led hikes at a nature centre, I would ask students what they thought we would see on our hike. The most common answers? Bears, if we were in the forest, or alligators, if we were in the wetlands. All this was in Eastern Nebraska along the Missouri River—a wooded habitat where the largest animal you might find is a white-tailed deer, and on the absolute rarest of occasions, a mountain lion passing through. This experience showcased the great disconnect between young people and their own local ecosystems, and similar knowledge gaps exist for adults too. If we don’t take the time to understand where our audience is at and meet them there, we cannot expect them to take positive conservation action or change their behaviour. We need to start simple. I propose that art is the key to building that connection—particularly art featuring local species.

At the height of the pandemic, I created a piece of artwork that combined my love for educating people about local nature with a drawing inspired by what I saw outdoors. I called it “Grace’s Guide to the Outside”, and I first shared it on social media. The feedback I received from my science and non-science friends alike was overwhelming!

No matter their background, people reached out to say they loved it, and even the city’s largest paper wanted to do an article on it. And so, I continued to create them. The evidence that told me that my art was sparking a real connection to the natural world (as I had hoped it would) was when I created one about cicadas. Someone whom I didn’t know that well commented on the artwork and said, “I’ve seen those shells on our garage door. Didn’t know they were cicadas!” This comment validated the fact that my art and this information had value in the way it was presented. Someone learned something new and could now connect better to a cicada shell the next time they ran into one. They also have two young children whom they could now teach about this insect that is so often seen in the midwestern United States.

The need for a native focus

Recent studies have pointed out just how important it can be to use art when learning about scientific topics. While the process can take time and cost money, the power of effective graphics has proven to be extremely valuable, especially as media avenues for sharing research continue to change. For those in the scientific community, we must begin to ask how we might share our knowledge with others who might not have the same background. Not only this, but for those that care about our world’s biodiversity, it’s time to pause and think about how to get people to care about conservation.

Thinking through what exactly conservation even is and how you would explain it is something to consider. Even as students are taken on a simple nature excursion around their school, there is evidence pointing to the need for their teachers to have some baseline knowledge of the local species they might encounter to spur on the student’s interest. Elephants and rhinos are certainly eye-catching, but what can a child from the midwestern United States do to help them? We have to start much smaller. A pill bug crawling across the sidewalk. Red-winged blackbirds flocking across the sky in the spring. A fox running through the city park. First and foremost, people need to be awake to what is happening around them. Emotional connections are a key piece of humanity and art is great at evoking that initial flicker of interest.

Get out there!

From the moment we set foot outside, there are opportunities to learn about conservation, even if we don’t have a scientific background. I propose that we start simple. Through observation and art, there are many chances to connect to local species. Whether you take a walk in a city park or head into the field for research, there is potential for an increased understanding of the environment around you. If you’re an artist (or even if you don’t consider yourself one) try drawing or painting what you see during time spent outdoors. Learn more about native species in order to better understand them and how you might impact them.

I myself have been working alongside a professor from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln to create artwork representing her research on the aquatic macroinvertebrates (such as crayfish) and algal communities found in the Niobrara River in Nebraska. We are creating two brochures that will educate people using the river, which includes tubers, kayakers, and canoers. I bring my artistic skill to the project and expertise in communicating her scientific information in a way that is easy to understand, while she brings content expertise. It’s an exciting partnership!

If you possess a stronger interest in science, think about how your work could be interpreted into an artistic representation with local ties that can prompt a relatable experience for your audience. Most of all, keep in mind that when you better understand and empathise with your local natural resources, you’re more likely to know how to positively interact with them. With art to tie it all together, you might just encourage people down the road to an even bigger positive impact on the world around them!

Further reading

Khoury, C. K., Y. Kisel, M. Kantar, E. Barber, V. Ricciardi, C. Klirs, L. Kucera et al. 2019. Science–graphic art partnerships to increase research impact. Communications Biology 2: 295. https://doi.org/10.1038/s42003-019-0516-1

Skarstein, T. H. and F. Skarstein. 2020. Curious children and knowledgeable adults – early childhood student-teachers’ species identification skills and their views on the importance of species knowledge, International Journal of Science Education 42(2): 310–328, DOI: 10.1080/09500693.2019.1710782

Zaelzer, C. 2020. The value in science-art partnerships for science

education and science communication. ENEURO Commentary 7(4): 1–6. https://doi.org/10.1523/ENEURO.0238-20.2020
Grace Gaard Author
Grace Gaard Illustrator

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Art Against Illegal Trade: The Asian Songbird Crisis

The illustrations in this article do not fall under the creative commons license.  The illustrators maintain their right as owners of the illustrations.

Asian songbird trade

Many of us have heard about shark fin, elephant ivory, pangolin scale, and even tiger bone trade. But what about the trade in other, lesser-known, less charismatic species? Hundreds of species of Asian songbirds are currently threatened by illegal and unsustainable trade—a phenomenon known as the Asian songbird crisis. Often caught from the wild and traded in poor conditions, songbirds end up being kept as pets or are used in cultural practices, such as songbird singing contests and religious releases. Approximately 66–84 million caged birds are believed to be kept on Java alone, but the trade goes beyond that. Birds are traded at both domestic and international levels. Indonesia, Malaysia, Vietnam, Singapore—the list of countries involved in the Asian songbird trade goes on, with some species being sold even in Europe despite international regulations. 

Researchers, conservation practitioners, and law enforcement agencies are working hard to tackle the crisis and to slow down the catastrophic decline of songbird populations in Asia. Scientists are conducting field and genetic research, zoos and local NGOs breed threatened taxa for reintroduction, various organisations run community engagement and education activities. Conservationists and governments refine legislation, while law enforcement authorities make sure it is properly implemented. To coordinate conservation efforts and address the crisis in a more efficient manner, the IUCN SSC Asian Songbird Trade Specialist Group was formed in 2017 and currently includes 79 professionals tackling the Asian songbird trade.

However, bird extinction and biodiversity loss, in general, are not only concerns for conservation biologists. The art community has become increasingly involved in conservation by fundraising for and raising awareness about various threatened species. In this article two artists, Sofiya Shukhova and Tom Henderson, share their experiences with exploring the Asian songbird crisis through an artistic lens, creating art about this issue, and engaging fellow artists and the general public. 

“White-eyes” by Sofiya Shukhova

Researching the Asian songbird crisis through an artistic lens

Sofiya Shukhova
Wildlife Artist and Conservationist

In my artistic practice, I always try to focus on conservation issues that have received less coverage. In 2019, when looking for a new topic for my art, I discovered the practice of keeping Asian songbirds—a common threat to many bird species of Southeast Asia, where I live. Creature Conserve, a non-profit supporting artists and scientists to study, celebrate, and protect animals and their habitats, awarded me a scholarship to research this topic using art. Through visiting and collaborating with Planet Indonesia, FLIGHT, and TRAFFIC, I dived deep into this topic, saw the trade with my own eyes, and connected with various stakeholders from law enforcement agencies to poachers and local communities. All three organisations kindly allowed me to shadow their teams to better understand the issue, how to tackle it, and the organisations’ role in the process.

“Just one red-whiskered bulbul in a cage” by Sofiya Shukhova

Based on my fieldwork in Malaysia and Indonesia, I created a series of artworks, each being inspired by different aspects of the trade: trapping techniques, singing contests, bird markets, and more. I first had an opportunity to showcase my works to fellow artists and conservationists in Singapore during my short art residency in Art Outreach in 2020. It was their feedback and additional insights into their work that helped me improve my works further and scale them up before I could finally exhibit them and show them to the public. 

In 2021, my personal exhibition about the Asian songbird crisis opened in the Timiryazev State Biology Museum in Moscow. The exhibition included four sections: Birds in the wild, Birds as part of culture and traditions, The Asian songbird crisis, and Saving the birds—each looking at the songbird trade from a different angle and together showing its complexity and raising awareness. This exhibition helped me to see the public reaction to the ‘art for conservation’ storytelling format and get additional feedback. It is with this information in mind that I plan to adjust and bring the exhibition to Southeast Asia next year. 

It took almost two years from the beginning of my research to the first exhibition. Along the way I met many passionate conservationists and artists, and together we created something special—a series of art interventions to tackle the Asian songbird crisis. Through my exhibition, a collaborative art workshop conducted by Tom Henderson (whom you will meet next), and sharing songbird art on social media, we hoped to have contributed to the public journey of informing, learning, caring, and inspiring change.

Engaging artists to protect Asian songbirds

Tom Henderson
Wildlife Artist and Educator

I initially approached Sofiya through Creature Conserve about running a workshop, to which she suggested we frame it around the Asian songbird crisis. The plan I proposed involved creating a repeatable surface pattern in collaboration with participants, each bringing their own understanding to a shared piece. We would be bound by a unified theme and agreed presentation of the outcome, but it was for the individuals to suggest what they thought was important to include in the pattern and why. Participants could create their artwork using any media they felt was appropriate and together we would compose the design.

Coming from a position of distance—physically and informatively—research for the workshop was necessary to understand the crisis that songbirds of Asia are facing. From a creative background, the value of research has always been impressed upon me. However, sources are hard to come by without knowing exactly what you are looking for. This is where the intersection of science and art is strongest. Specifically, it is the connection formed of scientists and artists actively sharing. From my position as a creative person, I wanted to spend some time understanding the subject before considering what the most important points might be. Sofiya linked me up with Serene Chng, a researcher studying the crisis first hand. With their shared understanding and research articles, I took in as much as I could to support making the pattern an authentic and accurate representation of the threats to these birds.

“Peril” (Black-winged Myna) by Tom Henderson

The workshops were an opportunity to open up a purposeful discussion about the Asian songbird crisis. In particular, our goal was to use our shared understandings to create bridges for an audience to be informed. The format of the outcome provided two collaborative opportunities to understand more about the birds, and so better communicate their plights. In the first instance, to make themed artwork with other artists, and in the second instance, to involve a consequential audience in the discussion in the hopes they too would continue the sharing. To make the latter point more effective, the surface pattern we were designing had to be more than a nice piece of art; it had to have a function. So, we designed it to be printed as a single tile for the cover of a notebook or sketchbook. When joined up to another cover, the resulting repetition of the tile might stimulate conversation as the cover owners put together connections (literally) to better understand what the design was communicating. Previously half-visible illustrations would become whole. The lives of the songbirds were complete and an audience had been unified. The participants brought curiosity, enthusiasm and open minds to the workshop and resolved this creative challenge to make a piece of work we were all proud of and, importantly, was effective.

“Asian Songbird Trade” pattern created by Tom Henderson, Eva Kunzová, Adira Andlay, Thejavitso Chase, Kristina Wheeat, Chong Han Wei, Thierry Andrianambinina, Mrinmayi Dalvi, Faril, Woei Ong, Serene Chng and Sofiya Shukhova during Creature Conserve workshop.

The pattern did not just feature negativity, it had to show hope as much as it had to show threats. Science provides facts. It says what is. Art can say what could be. Art can inform scientists what to research next. Art is more than designs. It is problem-solving and critical thinking. It is a tool for communication and community. Here, the relationship between science and art becomes reciprocal. Both inform and inspire each other.

Art as part of conservation strategy

We must not underestimate the effort of conservationists fighting the sixth mass extinction, but in current times they are unlikely to be able to save all the threatened species and ecosystems on their own. People from various walks of life can contribute their skills to help, and creatives are no exception. Although the impact of art interventions for conservation may be challenging to measure, they are still as needed as other education and raising awareness programmes. Art can be a powerful tool for grasping viewers’ attention, sparking curiosity, and creating change.

A template for this positive action is found in the David Shepherd Wildlife Foundation’s Artist of the Year competition, which raises funds to go to conservation projects and engages an increasingly broad number of people with nature-themed artwork. Artists from around the world are encouraged to explore the threats facing the animals in their work. Positive change can be made on individual scales, too. Tom has raised small monies for charities like Wader Quest by creating themed artwork on wading birds, donating proceeds onwards. His illustrations are informed by science and conservation, promoting learning of the species depicted and encouraging donation and further study. The illustrations not only reach those familiar with the species but also those new to wading birds through wider sharing on social media. 

Similarly, Sofiya has created artworks featuring species affected by the wildlife trade and human-wildlife conflict in Southeast Asia to donate them to several organisations and events to raise awareness and funds, including the fundraiser of the Singapore-based wildlife rescue centre, Animal Concerns Research and Education Society. She also designed and painted an education room for the kids in Save Vietnam’s Wildlife project where she used her art skills to create an engaging environment for the younger generation to nurture interest and care for local animals, such as pangolins, civets, and small cats.

Not only does art impact the viewer, but it also leaves an imprint on the creator and their community, making them catalysts for spreading awareness among new audiences. Their artworks continue to reach new people even after the events end and inspire other creatives to explore the topic.

“It’s in our hands” by Sofiya Shukhova

Collaboration between conservationists and artists is key to this new approach of tackling biodiversity loss using art. Thanks to conservationists who shared their knowledge with Tom and Sofiya and enabled in-depth research of the Asian songbird crisis, they created more informed and therefore more impactful art. Imagine what you could do to raise awareness for other creatures under threat too. There is no better time than now to create art to support the natural world around us. What will you do? 

Sofiya and Tom thank Creature Conserve for funding Sofiya’s fieldwork and Tom’s workshop and for supporting their art practices.

Further Reading

Asian songbird trade in the spotlight. 2021. Creature Conserve. https://creatureconserve.com/asiansongbirdconservation. Accessed on April 10, 2022. 

IUCN SSC Asian songbird trade specialist group. 2022. https://www.asiansongbirdtradesg.com/. Accessed on April 10, 2022.

Marshall, H., N. J. Collar, A. C. Lees, A. Moss, P. Yuda and S. J. Marsden. 2020. Spatio-temporal dynamics of consumer demand driving the Asian songbird crisis. Biological Conservation 241: 108237.
Sofiya Sukhova Author
Sofiya Sukhova Illustrator
Tom Henderson Illustrator
Tom Henderson Author

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From the valleys above to the rivers below: An ode to the unsung heroes of Kibber

Photo 1. Rinche Tobge of Kibber village traverses a snowfield in Miyar Valley while looking for snow leopard signs.

Spiti has one of the healthiest snow leopard populations in the world. Behind this well-known fact lies hundreds of kilometres walked by these folks, traversing valleys, passes and ridgelines, finding that ideal spot to place a camera trap. They formed a key part of the largest published scientific study on snow leopard population spanning across 26,000 km2 of Himachal Pradesh, covering an area larger than all 17 previously published studies from across 12 countries of the snow leopard’s global range. Dhamal and the rest of the team placed over 200 cameras across three years for this study. Behind each snow leopard image, was the sacrifice of a father who left his daughter behind while he scaled peaks. The sacrifice of a husband who continued looking for snow leopard signs, even as he lost mobile network coverage to call home. None of this is to romanticise the remote, but to acknowledge that there is often an unacknowledged human cost to all that glitters in conservation science. 

Photo 2. Tanzin Thuktan aka Dhamal places a camera trap in Hangrang valley, Himachal Pradesh.

A cornerstone of HAP’s work for over two decades across the high-altitude regions of Himachal Pradesh in particular, has been to mitigate negative human-wildlife interactions. This has often meant securing people’s livestock—a key source of economic and emotional support in these harsh landscapes—from predator attacks. This mainly involves predator-proofing night-time livestock pens (corrals) by building a stone foundation for the structure into which a steel door is placed and over which steel wiring is placed. By doing so, predators like snow leopards and wolves can’t enter at night and cause losses. This is done as a partnership with the local community, where both costs and effort are shared between them and NCF. 

What goes into making a predator-proof corral on a 4250-metre high-altitude plateau in Langza village? It starts with waking up at 4 AM to make the 14-hour journey from Kibber down to the towns of Kullu and Buntar 450 km away. Once there, the team has to chase the steel industries to fabricate the necessary doors and wiring. Each predator-proof corral is measured to fit the size requirements of the number of livestock and any other local needs.  This means that Kamal and Shri, for instance, have to sit for 12 hours, come rain or shine, back-to-back for 4-5 days with the fabricators that meticulously prepare these structures .  Even half an inch of difference could be a matter of life and death for the livestock and a potential poverty trap for the owner. 

Beyond doing their best to deal with the immediate research and conservation concerns of their high-altitude region, the team in Kibber also believe in fostering stewardship and a “climate” of conservation into the future. Kalzang Gurmet and Tanzin Thinley leave no stone unturned in visiting as many schools in the region, engaging with as many students as possible, to not only convey the message of conservation but also to truly make them feel like we all belong to the ecosystems around us. It is a pity that a student from Spiti will likely know of the tiger roaming the forests of Ranthambore, but be unaware of the snow leopard in her own mountains. They are driven to change this!

Photo 3. Tandup Cherring aka Kamal surveying for blue sheep in the pasture around Langza village

No matter how many papers I may publish from my work in higher Himachal Pradesh, the Khanyari et al. citations will never do justice to the contributions of these dedicated colleagues. A mention in the acknowledgement section is nowhere near enough credit for the hours they pour into not only my projects, but so many that came before and will come after. These are not merely field staff or field associates, they are the project, but they often don’t get adequately recognized. Remember they have a name, an identity, and aspirations. Let’s go beyond merely thinking of them as supplementary, and start acknowledging that they are central for conservation work globally—both in terms of research and on-the-ground action.

For all the times Dhamal, Rinchen, or Shri have extended their hand to me, or so many other researchers and interns, I want them to know they are going well beyond merely assisting us. They are empowering us to do the work we aspire to. And for this very reason, I shout from the valleys above to the rivers below, an ode to these unsung heroes of Kibber!

Further Reading

Suryawanshi, K., A. Reddy, M. Sharma, M. Khanyari, A. Bijoor, D. Rathore, H. Jaggi et al. 2021. Estimating snow leopard and prey populations at large spatial scales. Ecological solutions and evidence 2(4): e12115. https://doi.org/10.1002/2688-8319.12115. 

Bijoor, A., M. Khanyari, R. Dorjay, S. Lobzang and K. Suryawanshi. 2021.A need for context-based conservation: Incorporating local knowledge to mitigate livestock predation by large carnivores. Frontiers in conservation science 2: 107. https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fcosc.2021.766086.

Photo 4. Kesang Chunit aka Shir removes a camera from under the snow in Chandra valley.
Photo 5. Kalzang Gurmet (far left), along with Kesang Chunit and Deepshika Sharma of NCF interact with students in a school in Spiti.
Photo 6. Tanzin Thinley measures distance in front of a camera trap to ensure it gets good captures of snow leopards.
Munib Khanyari Author

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Pygmy Hog

The tiniest pig in the world
Found curled beneath tall grass
In India, Bhutan, & Nepal earlier
Lives now in a vague blur
Ever smaller from fear of extinction
Hidden in just a tuft of left-over Assamese grass.
The pygmy hog, a tiny little harmless hairy hog
Heir to the luxury of Ganga’s bog;
Known for its halo
A playful waving yellow
Of glorious golden grass.

The pygmy hog is the smallest member of the pig family. Previously it was widespread in tall and wet grasslands along the foothills of the Himalayas in India, Nepal, and Bhutan but today is critically endangered due to degradation of its grassland habitat.
Tara Sandhu Author
Tara Sandhu Illustrator

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The human influence: Primates trapped in the middle

Imagine that all roads leading to your friends are blocked. Where there were bridges, now lie empty spaces that risk death if you cross. Similarly, habitat loss is a reality for many species around the world. There’s no question that humans have a significant impact on habitats, but what does it mean for the future of the animals living in these habitats? Socially complex species, such as primates, feel the impact of human action in ways that scientists are just beginning to understand, including the impact these changes have on the evolutionary future of endemic species.

Primates serve numerous ecological roles in their habitats acting as both predator and prey, seed dispersers, and pollinators. Additionally, primates are of cultural and economic importance to humans. They draw in tourism and maintain the health of the forests for the people that depend directly on them. Yet, life in the forest comes with its own set of challenges for primates, many of which are directly caused by humans. This includes habitat loss, the pet trade, and climate change, which make it difficult for species to adapt, and thereby impacting their future.

Non-human primate species are found on three continents: South America, Asia, and Africa. To gain a comprehensive understanding of anthropogenic impacts on our taxonomic relatives, we are going to visit each continent. 

Phoenix_B_1of3 (talk) (Uploads). Original uploader was Phoenix B 1of3 at en.wikipedia – Range supported by: Napier, J. R.; Napier P. H. (1967). A Handbook of Living Primates. Academic Press. pp. 378-379 (Fig. 4). ASIN B000KXFAPW.

South America:

Pied Tamarins and Black and Gold Howler Monkeys

Central and South America are home to a wonderful array of New World monkeys. In Brazil alone there are 110 monkey species. However, nearly 40 primate species in Brazil are facing extinction due to habitat loss. Much of the habitat fragmentation is caused by cities encroaching on the surrounding forests. One species facing this challenge is the pied tamarin, Sanguinus bicolor. These small primates live in and around Manaus, the capital city of the Brazilian state of Amazonas. Pied tamarins face not only habitat loss as the forest declines, but also struggle to reach other tamarin groups. Without access to other pied tamarin populations, the threat of losing genetic diversity by isolation is real. Genetic diversity is crucial for the future populations to adapt and evolve with their environment. One study investigates how fragmentation impacts the genetics of pied tamarins in the region surrounding Manaus by comparing hair samples from four different groups in the region. Urbanisation and human encroachment led to three of these areas being separated from the larger forest for years. The fourth site maintains access to the forest and acts as a control site for this study. This study determined that there is a significant threat to the pied tamarin gene pool in isolated communities, a threat that only increases with time. The combined effects of long-term population decline of pied tamarins and habitat fragmentation leads to an uncertain future for pied tamarins.

Pied Tamarin (Sanguinus bicolor) Mindu Park. Whaldener Endo retrieved from https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Saguinus_bicolor_Parque_do_Mindu.jpg

Black-and-gold howler monkeys (BGHM), Alouatta caraya, are another unique primate facing threats from man-made stressors in South America. They can be found in a vast range extending from Mexico to Argentina. With this wide range comes a lot of interactions with people. BGHMs live with deforestation from agriculture, flooding from dams, habitat fragmentation from urbanization, and zoonotic disease transmission. Like the pied tamarins, the changes in forest connectivity leads to group isolation impacting the potential gene pool. One known consequence of a smaller gene pool is a decrease in the population’s ability to adapt and fight off disease. This was seen recently as BGHM populations have drastically declined due to yellow fever outbreaks throughout their range.

In a study of ten BGHM groups, four distinct clusters of genetic populations were found. These four clusters are isolated from one another, similar to pied tamarins. This isolation leads to inbreeding within the groups, which in turn decreases the genetic diversity. One of the shocking conclusions from this study was that there could be a decrease in genetic diversity of nearly 25 percent in just 50 generations as a direct result of habitat fragmentation.

Josh More: Black and Gold Howler Monkey (Alouatta caraya)_20 retrieved from: https://www.flickr.com/photos/guppiecat/16073988612/in/photostream/

The New World monkeys are in a dire situation, but many groups are working to help them, such as the Chico Mendes Institute for Biodiversity Conservation (ICMBio). ICMBio works with the Brazilian government to establish protected areas for primates such as tamarins and compile research to better understand the threats and potential solutions to stop deforestation of the Amazon rainforest. As the human population in this area continues to grow the need for infrastructure and agricultural demand also increases. These groups are crucial for the development of corridors for the safe passage of these primates over roadways and other human infrastructure. 

Africa

Chimpanzees

Africa is known for its diverse wildlife. Three of the four non-human great ape species, including chimpanzees, can be found in the western and central regions of Africa. Chimpanzees exhibit different behavioural adaptations between groups. These differences are so significant that there are now four recognized subspecies of chimpanzees, each occupying different habitats. To understand these subspecies scientists have examined distinct habitats that may have impacted the divergence of chimpanzees into different subspecies. The research found little geographic overlap between the territories and the habitats that each of these subspecies inhabit. As these habitats are lost due to deforestation or changed by factors such as climate change, it is unlikely that each subspecies will survive. In what seems to be a consistent theme, habitat fragmentation from logging, mining, and agriculture, along with the bushmeat trade, are the biggest threats to great apes in this region causing population declines for chimpanzees in this region.

Photo by: VCG. retrieved from https://news.cgtn.com/news/2020-07-29/Primates-in-jeopardy-Our-closest-relative-in-nature-Sw1n6vUy4g/index.html

In western Africa, the Goualougo Triangle Ape Project is combating these issues. They work with the Congolese government, local logging companies, and residents to promote sustainable forestry, research, and capacity building. With the cooperation of these groups, this project has been able to make a real difference in sustaining the great ape populations in the region.

Lemurs

The island of Madagascar is located off the southeastern coast of mainland Africa. This unique island has high endemicity, i.e. it is home to species that are found nowhere else in the world. Lemurs are a good example of this. As the human population on the island increases, the habitat available for other species is decreasing. It also creates an “edge effect”, which increases human-wildlife conflict, leading to increased risk of disease transmission. This combined with additional threats such as the bush meat and pet trades contribute to the decline of lemur populations on the island. As land availability decreases for native species, they become more scarce and the ability for lemur species to adapt and thrive ultimately decreases.

Photo by Mathias Appel retrieved from https://www.flickr.com/photos/mathiasappel/25911695040

Organisations such as the Lemur Conservation Foundation (LCF) work hard both in Madagascar and abroad to educate the public and mitigate negative impacts on lemurs. Lemurs are known for their cute features, often leading to use as pets or tourist attractions. LCF works with local people to establish proper ecotourism infrastructure, while restoring lemur habitats. To decrease the local residents’ reliance on rainforest resources, various projects have been put in place to provide  fuel-efficient stoves, decrease bushmeat usage, and encourage sustainable fishing techniques.

Asia

Macaques

From snowy mountains to the tropical islands of the Pacific, Old World monkeys in Asia reside in various habitats. In China, fossil records indicate that historically macaques were found throughout the mainland and islands, though they showed preference for lower elevations and rivers. The most telling piece from these fossils was found after analysing home range trends of monkeys in the last 300 years. As urbanisation increased macaques were no longer found in central China (Li et al., 2020). Macaques have now retreated to higher elevations in the mountains as opposed to the rivers.

https://pxhere.com/en/photo/1603741

Though human activity has certainly impacted the lives and distribution of these monkeys, they have proven to be very adaptable. In fact, macaques have found ways to be successful in urban landscapes. Food was found to be the most important factor in behavioural changes for macaques. For urban dwelling monkeys, human food has become an integral part of their diet. These adaptations and changes in behaviour have allowed these monkeys to keep their numbers higher than other primate species, and may help them as human development continues into the forests. 

So what now?

As the world’s human population increases, there is continued encroachment on wild habitats. Human activity such as agriculture, logging, and mining, result in clear cutting forest habitats and increase fragmentation. But for primates, there are other man-made threats to consider as well—hunting, the pet trade, and disease as exposure to humans increases. In terms of evolutionary response, these threats often make it harder for species to adapt to the ever changing landscape. These changes are occurring at such a rate that many species are already seeing a rapid decline. In fact, 75 percent of primate species are facing population declines due to human activity. As humans and primates continue to share more space, human-primate conflict is bound to increase.

Though the news is dire for animals around the world, there are actions that we can take to mitigate the problem. First, we need to create long-term management plans. There is significant poverty in many areas where primates live. Finding ways to make money off of the land is crucial for the socio-economic wellbeing of the local community. Conservation without the support of the people living in these regions will be fruitless. Fortunately, there are a number of organisations working to help those that rely on these resources to use them in a sustainable way.

There are examples of such projects in every region where primates are found, but what about those of us that do not live in primate habitats—what can we do? One option is to decrease the global demand for the natural resources that primate habitats provide. Logging demands are often from paper products and furniture. Consumers can purchase products from manufacturers that supply their wood using sustainable sources. Certifications for this have become more common, making it easier to choose more eco-friendly options. One example is the Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) logo. This organisation works to promote sustainable and recycled materials for wood and paper-based products. 

Other resources exploited from these habitats are minerals such as gold and coltan. These minerals are used in the production of new electronic devices. Refurbishing and properly recycling old electronics rather than purchasing products made with raw materials is another way that anyone can make a difference.

Finally, purchasing locally sourced meat and produce items can make a difference. Agriculture is the most prolific driver of habitat destruction, which includes ranching and palm oil plantations. Currently, the global demand for meat products results in forest encroachment and clear cutting to meet demand. According to the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA), Brazil is responsible for 20 percent of the world’s beef exports. Additionally, palm oil is found in numerous products from beauty supplies to snack foods. The slash-and-burn techniques used to clear the land for these monoculture plantations creates significant pressures on rainforests around the world, adding to the deforestation in the Amazon rainforest. To decrease the ecological impact of these practices, buying locally sourced meat products and purchasing products made with sustainable palm oil can make a substantial difference in the survival of primates in these habitats. 

Every consumer has the power to help protect and save the environment. By making ecologically sustainable purchases, we tell companies that there is a market for environmentally friendly supply chains. By providing options for the sustainable management of primate habitats, we can reduce the impact that humans have on these ecosystems. If we can maintain or extend habitats and connections between populations, primates can have a greater chance of survival through increased genetic diversity. 

Further reading:

Estrada, A., P. Garber, A. Rylands, C. Roos, E. Fernandez-Duque, A. Di Fiore, A. Nekaris, et al. 2017. Impending extinction crisis of the world’s primates: Why primates matter. Science Advances 3(1): e1600946. doi: 10.1126/sciadv.1600946.

Li, B., G. He, S. Guo, R. Hou, K. Huang, P. Zhang, H. Zhang et al. 2020. Macaques in China: Evolutionary dispersion and subsequent development. American Journal of Primatology 82(7): e23142. https://doi.org/10.1002/ajp.23142.
Mary Dzinbinski Author

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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 this conservation strategy works? 

Sea Turtle Hatchery PC: Abhishek Dixit

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!

Structures to mark and protect eggs PC: Adhith Swaminathan

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. 

A sea turtle hatchery PC: Nupur Kale

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.

enclosure to protect the eggs PC: Nupur Kale

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.

¹ Pullin, A. S. and T. M. Knight. 2001. Effectiveness in conservation practice: Pointers from medicine and public health. Conservation biology 15(1): 50–54.

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.
Nupur Kale Author
Andrea D. Phillott Author

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Consensus for connectivity: Tigers in Central India

Tigress Collarwali in Pench Tiger Reserve CC : Amrita Neelakantan

Tigers like to travel. So much so that in Central India—a hotspot for the fewer than 4,000 remaining wild tigers in the world—tiger populations have been able to move across the landscape to breed despite thousands of years of human presence throughout their habitat. We know this because tiger genetic research reveals a remarkably similar genetic makeup of individual animals from across this broad landscape. This genetic similarity indicates that individuals must be moving out of core population areas—usually tiger reserves or other protected areas—and traversing the complex mosaic landscape of agriculture, villages, and rapidly expanding infrastructure, to settle in a new area and breed with resident tigers there. In this way, tigers have maintained genetic connectivity despite the human pressures on the landscape.

Researchers and conservation groups have been working for many years to map the corridors that tigers travel through to stay connected, especially in recent decades, as the habitat is increasingly fragmented by highways, rails, mines, and other infrastructure for development. By knowing where tigers travel, we can work with local people and authorities to ensure that the habitat remains connected for tigers to traverse. After all, the tiger is undoubtedly not the only species—plant, animal, or microbe—depending on these areas.

Almost a decade of research into this topic resulted in incredible insights into our understanding of tiger connectivity in Central India. Researchers documented locations, movements, and more genetic material to map out important corridors. However, as frequently occurs in scientific endeavors, not all studies agreed on the areas of these corridors. Rather than allow this outcome to generate confusion—or worse, distrust—in the scientific community, a large group of researchers teamed up to analyze their studies together and produce a consensus map of important areas for tiger connectivity in central India.

The idea for this collaboration was hatched one cold night in January of 2019 in Melghat Tiger Reserve during the biannual symposium of the Network for Conserving Central India (NCCI). The Central Indian Landscape Symposium (CILS) had brought together researchers, conservationists from NGOs, and managers to exchange views on landscape connectivity. With hands cupped over steaming cups of chai, the shared purpose to keep the corridors from getting severed motivated a plan to combine efforts for a single map based on scientific consensus. By doing so, the scientific and conservation community could speak with one voice. 

This collaborative effort revealed that while the individual studies did look quite different on the surface, they were much more similar than expected at first glance. In fact, out of the five studies analyzed, at least three agreed on 63 percent of the total study area. Furthermore, when we simulated movement using the results from each of the studies, they also largely agreed on areas of high potential movement, which allowed us to generate a new map layer we call “consensus connectivity areas (CCAs)”. This layer represents areas where all five studies agreed that there was high movement potential for tigers. 

We then identified the public and private stakeholders in these lands using the CCA layer, revealing an extensive overlap with villages and with the expanding infrastructure network that spans Central India. This overlap highlights the importance of connecting with diverse audiences, from local communities to high-level government officials and infrastructure planners, to work together to benefit all species (including humans) that share this unique landscape.

Beyond tigers, this project provides a framework for other important biodiversity landscapes so that all parties can work together to preserve nature and livelihoods. And above all, we hope to demonstrate that collaboration is critical—for science, conservation, and humanity.

Further reading:

Schoen, J. M., A. Neelakantan, S. A. Cushman, T. Dutta, B. Habib, Y. V. Jhala, I. Mondal et al. 2022. Synthesizing habitat connectivity analyses of a globally important human-dominated tiger-conservation landscape. Conservation Biology 36(4): e13909. https://doi.org/10.1111/cobi.13909
Jay Schoen Author

More in Research in Translation

Navegando entre mares y desiertos (Español)

This article was translated to Spanish by Michelle María Early Capistrán. Click here to read the original article in English.

El desierto central de Baja California, en el noroeste de México, es tan bello como inhóspito. El imponente paisaje está dominado por cardones (Pachycereus pringlei) milenarios y cirios (Fouquieria columnaris) de aspecto surrealista. Durante los veranos calcinantes las temperaturas frecuentemente rebasan los 50°C para luego caer bajo 0°C en el invierno. La lluvia alcanza, en promedio, escasos 100–300mm al año. Este desierto se sitúa entre las aguas frías del océano Pacífico y las aguas subtropicales del Golfo de California. Los mares son ricos y abundantes: son hogar de cinco especies de tortugas marinas, una gran diversidad de mamíferos marinos—entre ellos la ballena gris (Eschrichtius robustus), que se reproduce en las lagunas del Pacífico—e innumerables peces e invertebrados. 

Los seres humanos han ocupado este ambiente extremo durante al menos 12,000 años. Los Cochimí eran un pueblo dedicado a la recolección, la pesca y la cacería, y se movían con el paso de las estaciones entre las fuentes de agua y los recursos en mar y tierra. Tras la llegada de los europeos en el siglo 18, la población Cochimí cayó un 90 por ciento en menos de dos generaciones como resultado de las epidemias y las hambrunas causadas por la sedentarización forzada. Durante los siglos posterios surgió una sociedad multiétnica, a veces conocida como los Californios, conformada por los descendientes de los Cochimís y de las diversas olas de inmigración procedentes de otras regiones de México, Europa, Estados Unidos, China y Japón. Se establecieron en rachos y comunidades dispersas alrededor de la península. Hasta el día de hoy la densidad poblacional de la región está entre las más bajas del mundo, con unas dos personas por kilómetro cuadrado.

Durante los últimos diez año, he tenido la gran fortuna de trabajar en el desierto central y de aprender de las personas que no solo han sobrevivido sino que han prosperado en este ambiente inhóspito, en gran medida por su conocimiento detallado del entorno natural. Mis colegas y yo hemos trabajado con maestros pescadores en ambas costas para intentar reconstruir cómo eran los océanos en el pasado y cómo han cambiado. La comunidad científica puede subestimar la magnitud de la biodiversidad o la abundancia pasada si la investigación se limita a los datos ecológicos, que en esta región generalmente abarcan menos de 30 años. Este fenómeno se conoce como “síndrome de desplazamiento de la línea base”. Durante milenios las tortugas marinas, y en particular la tortuga prieta (Chelonia mydas)—conocida localmente como caguama o caguama prieta—han tenido un papel clave como alimento y medicina para los habitantes de esta región. Los pescadores de mayor edad observaron mares muy distintos a los que conocemos hoy en día, y su conocimiento de cómo han cambiados las poblaciones de caguama y sus hábitats a lo largo del tiempo es primordial para entender el presente y abordar retos futuros. 

Don Carlos comenzó a trabajar como pescador de caguama (o “caguamero” como se les conoce localmente) en la costa del Pacífico a inicios de la década de 1940. Su papá y él pasaban semanas en una isla deshabitada en la laguna Ojo de Liebre, arponeando caguamas desde una canoa pequeña. La laguna se caracteriza por sus canales profundos y sus bajos extensos, por lo que la pesca de caguama requería no solo habilidad en la navegación, sino también un conocimiento preciso de los vientos, las corrientes y las mareas. El más mínimo movimiento en la superficie impedía la visibilidad, de manera que solo se podía pescar durante mareas muertas, con viento en calma y aguas tranquilas. Las caguamas capturadas se fileteaban, se salaban y se secaban para hacer cecina o machaca, y se producía aceite con la grasa. Puesto que no había fuentes de agua dulce, fabricaron un destilador con tambos metálicos y tuberías de cobre para destilar el agua de mar. Los viajes duraban hasta que juntaran suficiente carne seca para que hacer rentable el viaje al pueblo más cercano, El Arco. 

Viajaban un día y medio en mula o burro, cargados con hasta 20 kilos de carne seca de caguama que podría durar meses sin echarse a perder. La carne serviría de alimento en los ranchos o campamentos mineros del árido interior de la península. En El Arco vendían o truequeaban la carne por provisiones como frijoles, arroz, café o harina de trigo. En aquellos tiempos, varios factores limitaban las capturas. La demanda de carne de caguama se limitada a unos pocos pueblos o ranchos con contados pobladores. La pesca requería conocimientos detallados de la laguna y del díficil arte del arponeo, además de que conllevaba grandes riesgos. Asimismo, don Carlos y su papá eran los únicos pescadores en al menos 50 millas náuticas a la redonda. 

Don Ignacio llegó a la región de las grandes islas del Golfo de California en 1950. Su familia viajó en burro durante dos semanas, de un oasis o manantial a otro, buscando sitios prometedores para la pesca. En sus primeros días como pescador, había tripulaciones (conocidas localmente como equipos) de dos o tres personas que remaban durante horas—o incluso días—a campos pesqueros aislados, donde se quedaban hasta que llenar sus embarcaciones de caguamas o hasta que se las acabara la comida o el agua. La habilidad del navegante era de vital importancia: era quien debía llevar a la tripulación a buen puerto en la peligrosa costa desértica. Su conocimiento de las corrientes traicioneras o los cambios en el viento, y su habilidad para predecir la llegada de tormentas o ventarrones, podrían marcar la diferencia entre la vida y la muerte. Los viajes eran cortos cuando la pesca era buena, y peligrosamente largos cuando las capturas eran pocas o si los vientos o las tormentas los mantenían en tierra. El conocimiento detallado del mar, las islas y el desierto les ayudaba a hacer rendir el agua, que debían cargar con ellos y a veces suplementar de pequeños manantiales o pozas estacionales. La cacería también permitía estirar las raciones de comida. Los pescadores podían hacer tortillas de harina con aceite de caguama y agua de mar, y el venado bura (Odocoileus hemionus) o el borrego cimarrón (Ovis canadensis) brindaban carne que se podía comer en el campamento o secar para hacer machaca. 

En aquellos años, los pescadores capturaban las caguamas con un método altamente selectivo: el arponeo. Este arte, basado en la observación cuidadosa de la biología y el comportamiento de las tortugas marinas, requería muchísima habilidad pues las tortugas debía capturarse y venderse vivas. Las tripulaciones trabajaban de noche, con una lámpara de aceite sobre la proa para iluminar la superficie del agua. El arponero le señalaba las direcciones al timonel para lanzar el arpón con la fuerza suficiente para perforar el caparazón sin romperlo ni dañar los pulmones. En los meses de verano, cuando las tortugas son más activas y pasan tiempo cerca de la superficie, se usaban arpones ligeros y cortos. En los meses de invieron, cuando las tortugas se movían menos y pasaban largos ratos adormiladas en el fondo marino, se usaban arpones largos con peso en las puntas. 

Las caguamas se mandaban a la venta cerca de la frontera con E.U.A., a unos 800 kilómetros de distancia. El viaje, que se hacía atravesando el desierto en caminos de terracería, podría durar entre dos días y dos semanas según las condiciones del terreno. En las comunidades alejadas, las caguamas eran un alimento básico: un solo ejemplar fácilmente podía alimentar a 20 personas, y la carne se podía salar y preservar durante semanas. No se desperdiciaba nada. El aceite se usaba para cocinar y como medicina, y se usaba cada parte del animal: incluso el caparazón podía hervirse hasta obtener una consistencia gelatinosa. Las pequeñas poblaciones humanas, las dificultades de la captura y del transporte y la limitada demanda de mercado mantenían las capturas en ciertos niveles. Sin embargo, pronto todo cambiaría. 

A partir de la década de 1960, el crecimiento de las ciudades en la frontera norte de México aumentó la demanda de carne de caguama. Asimismo, la introducción de redes especializadas permitió capturar tortugas con gran facilidad y en números cada vez mayores. Los motores fuera de borda, con aumentos progresivos en los caballos de fuerza,  le permitían a los equipos desplazadarse más lejos y más rápido, a la vez que reducían el riesgo de quedarse atrapados en ventarrones o corrientes fuertes. A inicios de la década de 1970 se construyó la carretera transpeninsular pavimentada, y el viaje que antes duraba días o semanas se redujo a menos de un día. Esta “tormenta perfecta” de demanda de mercado, acceso a los mercados y mejoras en la tecnología y las artes de pesca condujeron a capturas masivas, y la población llegó al borde de la extinción en menos de dos décadas.

Mediante el trabajo colaborativo con los pescadores hemos reconstruido casi 70 años de tendencias poblacionales de caguama en la región, integrando el conocimiento ecológico local con datos de monitoreo ecológico. Sin duda hay buenas noticias: las poblaciones de caguama están creciendo tras más de 40 años de esfuerzos de conservación (las principales playas de anidación en el sur de México están protegidas desde 1980 y todas las especies de tortuga marina en México están en veda desde 1990). No obstante, las poblaciones aún lo han llegado a los niveles de línea base históricos. Asimismo, el cambio climático generará riesgos cada vez mayores para las tortugas marinas, y estos riesgos serán aún más dificiles de contrarrestar que los impactos humanos directos. Conforme las comunidades pesqueras y las tortugas marinas se enfrentan a los retos de un planeta en proceso de cambio acelerado, el conocimiento acumulado a lo largo de generaciones será fundamental para trazar rumbos hacia el futuro. 

Aprende más: 

Lectura adicional (en inglés):

Early-Capistrán, M. -M., E. Solana-Arellano, F. A. Abreu-Grobois, N. E. Narchi, G. Garibay-Melo, J. A. Seminoff, V. Koch et al. 2020. Quantifying local ecological knowledge to model historical abundance of long-lived, heavily-exploited fauna. PeerJ 8: e9494. https://doi.org/10.7717/peerj.9494
Michelle María Early Capistrán Author
Athulya Pillai Illustrator
Michelle María Early Capistrán Translator
This article is from issue

16.2

2022 Jun
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Endangered means not yet extinct

Trees have always felt like the upward raised hands of the Earth seeking rain, wind, and sunlight from the skies, while keeping myriad living and non-living things safe under their protective canopy. They never cease to fill me with awe and inspiration—their architecture, their defiance of gravity, their ability to soar above even as their roots dig deep into the soil. As an ecologist who has spent considerable time studying trees, I have had the joyful experience of hugging at least a thousand of them in the course of taking valuable diameter measurements!

Conservation of Nature usually finds its way into the hearts and minds of people through furry and huggable or majestic and awe-inspiring animals. This leaves tiny but spectacular orchids, serpentine climbers, creepy crawly insects, scaly snakes and frogs and a whole host of life forms unnoticed. Animals are given priority, while plants seem like they are every where and not particularly under threat of any loss. Up until we spend more time exploring and improving our understanding about the ecology or interdependencies that form the web of life.

Then we realise that a tree in the forest is more than just the flowers, fruits, and the leaves it produces. The bark has a host of mosses, ferns, frogs, crabs, insects, and orchids living on it. The canopy is home to a diversity of pollinators, primates, and other mammals. What happens in the deep roots and their capillaries that weave through the forest forming a vast network below ground is even less understood. A tree therefore becomes an entire habitat and even an ecosystem in the forest. In conserving a tree, one is protecting a web of relationships and interdependencies that are also threatened when that tree species is driven to extinction.

In the introduction to his book Against Extinction, Prof. Bill Adams writes about three timescales that conservation practitioners are engaged with—geological time which extends across millennia, a lifetime where one aspires to see change within a few decades, and the present, where every problem has to be addressed now or it will mean certain doom. Keeping these timescales in perspective is very important when one sets out to protect endangered species and to prevent their extinction.

The International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) maintains a Red List which is a comprehensive list of all living things and their conservation status. The information on populations, distributions, and the threats they face becomes invaluable when decisions on protection and preservation have to be taken. The Red Listing process assesses every species’ risk of extinction and places them under one of the nine stipulated categories: Data Deficient, Least Concern, Near Threatened, Vulnerable, Endangered, Critically Endangered, Extinct in the Wild, Extinct, and Not Evaluated. The assessments are based on information available about a species’ population and its range or distribution. These criteria are now globally accepted and widely used for conservation planning.

Through the articles in this special edition which are focussed on Endangered Trees, we want to draw attention to a world of plant conservation, which is replete with discovery, piracy, isolation, destruction, and lost relationships—all the makings of a conservation saga with trees as the protagonists.

As detailed in this series, once thought to be extinct in the wild, one species of the Faveiro trees of Brazil was rediscovered a hundred years ago and conservation plans are being implemented to ensure their long-term protection in the state of Minas Gerais. Another chance discovery of a cluster of Dipterocarpus bourdillonii trees in the Western Ghats of India spurred a large-scale survey for 11 endangered tree species in the Anamalai Hills, set against a backdrop of evolution, land use change, and global climate change. Moving on to the southern Western Ghats, where a single species from the genus Gluta is found (the only one in the Indian subcontinent), and although locally abundant in the forest, it faces a serious bottleneck in its life history, posing a threat to its long-term survival. But bottlenecks are many, when it comes to species in the wild, as in the case of the cycads from South Africa, where absence of beetle pollinators or their declines can have serious implications on populations in the wild. Human use poses a threat to the species as observed in the case of the Caryota palms, where the recreational or cultural use necessitates the removal of the flower—the reproductive part of the plant—even before it matures or has produced seed. Illegal wildlife trade is of concern to all wildlife, even plants, as seen in the article about the theft from the Gurukula Botanical Sanctuary in India and larger online trends. Finally, the fascinating history of the pivotal botanical text Hortus Malabaricus—with its detailed descriptions and meticulous illustrations of 780 plants of the Malabar region—is revealed.

Several species have been driven to extinction and are endangered owing to one or many of the reasons listed above. Will a species become extinct if we don’t act today or in our lifetime? Saving the Earth and protecting the planet by not letting anything die or go extinct has been the mainstay of conservation, which incidentally is only about 100 or so years old. From an evolutionary point of view extinctions give rise to newly adapted forms of life and keep the process of life moving ahead. Nothing stops in Nature. While saving species from dying seems like a short-term goal of conservation, there is a larger goal which I am afraid we are missing out on—literally losing sight of the woods for the trees. In the last few years in the mountains of South India, we have seen unprecedented weather patterns and a disruption of the rhythm of life. When a section of the grasslands and Shola forests of the Nilgiris collapsed in a landslide a few years ago, one started to wonder if our ecological footprint has now begun to challenge the very resilience of ancient landforms like the Western Ghats. What can we do now to rebuild the resilience of the Earth so it does not lose the capacity to bounce back after environmental disasters; this for me will be the long-term goal of conservation. We have to keep trying tree by tree, species by species, habitat by habitat to rebuild and restore that which is not completely lost.
Anita Varghese Author
Norzin Norbhu Illustrator
This article is from issue

16.3

2022 Sep
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Disappearing pollinators and extinction of the world’s oldest seed plants

In the early 1900s, an astute naturalist noticed beetles crawling all over cycad cones in South Africa, an observation that seemed to suggest these ancient plants were insect pollinated. The implications were so surprising that Alice Pegler’s observations were included in a presentation by Professor Harold Pearson to the Royal Society of South Africa in 1906. The circumstantial evidence was, however, not enough to challenge the prevailing paradigm of the time, that all cycads and related plants that do not produce flowers (Gymnosperms) were wind pollinated. It seemed inconceivable that a cycad—one of earliest plant groups to evolve from fern-like ancestors and develop seeds roughly 280 million years ago—could be insect pollinated. Insect pollination was generally believed to be one of the defining features of the flowering plants which evolved and diversified more than 100 million years later.

It was only in 1986 that researchers working in a botanic garden in the USA proved beyond doubt that some cycads were indeed pollinated by beetles. Even more surprising was evidence that cycad pollination systems include highly specialized interactions where the insect larvae develop in the cycad cones. This form of mutualism compares to the better-known interactions between figs and fig wasps, rather than the clumsy and opportunistic beetle interactions associated with primitive flowering plants. Since then, insect pollination has been confirmed in all ten genera of living cycads, across all five continents where cycads occur, and it is likely that it occurs in most of the approximately 350 known species of cycads.

Insect pollination of cycads is far more than just a fascinating evolutionary and ecological riddle, it is also critical to the survival of this unique group of seed plants. They represent one of the most threatened groups of plants yet assessed for the IUCN’s Red List of Threatened Species, with roughly 70 percent of all cycads now at risk of extinction. Over the past two decades, as studies of cycad pollination have gained momentum, there has been an increasing incidence of cases where pollinators seem to have disappeared. In some cases, pollinators were recorded in earlier surveys but have not been found in subsequent studies, while, in others, attempts to find pollinators have failed and these cycad populations do not produce viable seeds.

The collapse of pollinator populations is not unique to cycads. There is a global concern about their decline and disappearance. So much so that it was one of the first thematic assessments for the Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services (IPBES). In the case of cycads, the loss plants. The overall context may make all the difference, depending on how far the population is from neighboring populations as a possible source of pollinators, whether the habitat is sufficiently intact to cater for other requirements of pollinators, such as shelter between coning seasons, and possible impacts of land use practices, particularly fire intensity and frequency or use of pesticides.

The absence of pollinators could be a major barrier for any attempts to recover or re-establish cycad populations. If we can’t get the pollinators back, is there any hope of reversing the trend towards extinction? This is still an open question and studies are currently underway to determine what is possible. There are some hopeful signs.

Many cycads have more than one pollinator species—a form of insurance if one pollinator is absent. For example, one recurring pattern amongst the known pollination systems is for pollination by weevils (beetles in the family Curculionoidea) as well as one or two other beetles (often Cucujoidea beetles). Where this combination exists, one pollinator may be quite specialized and will pollinate only one or a few species, whereas the more generalist pollinator will visit a wider range of cycad species. This opens up the possibility of reintroducing more generalist pollinators from populations of other cycads even if the more specialized pollinator is extinct.

Another promising avenue is to determine whether cycad pollinators have survived in botanic gardens and private collections. Plants in gardens tend to cone more frequently than in the wild and pollinator populations can become naturalized in gardens. The first experimental study of insect pollination is a great example. The study was carried out at Fairchild Tropical Garden in the USA on naturalized populations of pollinators that usually occur only in Mexico. Surveys of cycads in gardens may reveal insect pollinators that no longer exist in the wild or, just as important, show whether pollinators in gardens shift hosts and can develop in a wider range of cycad hosts than previously thought. If so, it could be possible to even re-introduce specialist pollinators into wild cycad populations.

The IUCN/SSC Cycad Specialist Group is leading a global initiative to reverse the extinction trend for cycads. It is becoming increasingly clear that this requires a greater understanding of risk and resilience associated with cycad pollination systems, and finding ways to recover and restore pollination systems wherever possible.

Further Reading


Norstog, K. J., D. Stevenson and K. J. Niklas. 1986. The role of beetles in the pollination of Zamia furfuracea L. fil.(Zamiaceae). Biotropica 18: 300–306.

Toon, A., L. I. Terry, W. Tang, G. H. Walter and L. G. Cook. 2020. Insect Pollination of Cycads. Austral Ecology
45(8): 1033–58. https://doi.org/10.1111/aec.12925.
John Donaldson Author
Shivani Shenoy Illustrator
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On forest remnants and scarce jewels

Reflections from surveys for endangered trees in the Anamalai Hills of the Western Ghats

The air hung heavy with the scent of nectar, and the pools in the streams glittered green and pink with fallen Dipterocarpus bourdillonii flowers. The emergent trees from which the flowers had fallen rose in regal elegance above the canopy. The previous year, in late January 2021, a team of researchers from the Nature Conservation Foundation and the Wildlife Institute of India had found a small cluster of these trees here, along the bend of the Parayankadavu River in the Anamalai Tiger Reserve. It was an exciting find because this critically endangered tree species, endemic to the Western Ghats mountains in India, had not been recorded in this area.

Now, we were back in the valley of riverine lowland montane rainforests to survey the area for more individuals and to document their altitudinal range, abundance, and other trees associated with the species.

Dipterocarpus bourdillonii

Staring into the domed crown dancing with peppered sunlight and rustling against the clouds, I pictured the land—located in the southern Western Ghats, within the Anamalai hill range—from up above, looking out from the 52 m crest of the giant. All around was a landscape with an astonishing diversity of more than 7,400 flowering plant species, distributed over a vast range of altitudinal and geographic zones. Looking to the horizon, the forests become an intricate symphony, carpeting and moulding the valleys and crests, which stood silhouetted against the expansive blue of the sky. The reverie was broken by a swirling, pirouetting flower drifting down from the canopy, which served as a reminder of the several unexplored kilometres that lay ahead.

The systematic survey for endangered trees had been underway over the past two years to understand the distribution and conservation status of ten endangered tree species within the Anamalais landscape. After the discovery of the Dipterocarpus bourdillonii cluster, the survey expanded to focus on 11 species. The surveys along 63 forest trails, each several kilometres long, were distributed across rainforest remnants on the Valparai Plateau and the adjoining Anamalai Tiger Reserve. A survey of this scale and resolution had not been undertaken since C. E. C. Fischers’s ‘Flora of the Anaimalai Hills’, followed by his work with J. S. Gamble in the ‘Flora of the Madras Presidency’, both published more than a century earlier.

More than a century of human intervention, the limited geographic scope of prior surveys, and climate change have made the data from our survey crucial to the current context. By systematically measuring the girth, height, and geolocation of every individual of our 11 endangered tree species, and laying plots to record associated trees and regeneration, we were able to gather more information on the conservation status of these species.

Ecological information that we collected suggested that patterns of endangerment varied across species. For instance, the endemic and critically endangered tree Phyllanthus anamalayanus was previously thought to be restricted to a small cluster of less than a hundred individuals spread over a couple of hectares of forest near the Iyerpadi region of the Valparai Plateau. In our surveys, we found the trees in high abundance along river systems in the mid to lower elevation of the landscape. Another species, Palaquium ravii (whose seeds germinate well in nurseries) was found as a cluster of 30-odd individuals in the forests of the Manamboli region, but was extremely scarce or absent elsewhere.

Palaquium ravii

What makes certain trees extremely rare both in distribution and in abundance, while other endangered trees are locally expansive in range and numbers?

Why do some endangered trees occur in high densities in specific valleys but are absent elsewhere? In every new range we explored and documented, in every cluster that we found, was a distinct reminder that there was much to learn about endangered species in the landscape.

A major hindrance to understanding the ecology of endangered trees within forests today is the significant historical influence of anthropogenic destruction and pressures. Extensive logging for timber, fuel or biochemical properties (sap) may have removed huge tracts of forests and large numbers of key dominant species of each forest type (e.g., Myristica dactyloides, Diospyros paniculata, Vateria indica).

Myristica dactyloides

Confounding these factors are the broad ecological parameters that seem to affect tree abundance and distribution in the Western Ghats, such as variations in rainfall, elevation, prevailing soil type, and latitude. These patterns relate to the high rates of endemism within the landscape and are, at times, significant enough to cause dramatic changes in tree composition between two adjoining valleys or neighbouring ranges. For example, the understorey tree Cryptocarya anamalayana, is only found below 1000 m elevation on the western slopes of the Anamalai plateau in select locations of high annual precipitation.

Our present-day understanding is thus situated at the crossroads where the knotted threads of history and land use change meet the ecological relationships and adaptations that have evolved over vast timescales, all set in a time of global climate change.

Syzygium densifloram

In a landscape that is threatened by fragmentation, deforestation, and extinction, the questions surrounding endangered trees, their distribution, association, abundance, and specific roles become that much more critical. What we gain from such knowledge can help in shaping future conservation and restoration efforts, built on an understanding of the composition, structure, diversity, and resilience of existing forests and their historic baselines.
AP Madhavan Author
AP Madhavan Illustrator
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Faveiro-de-Wilson: The hidden treasure of Minas Gerais, Brazil

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DISCOVERY OF THE FAVEIRO

In Minas Gerais, a southeast Brazilian state known for its mineral wealth, there is another kind of natural treasure, which is still hidden: the faveiro-de-wilson tree (Dimorphandra wilsonii) from the legume family. Its story probably started a long time ago, but the species was known to science only in 1968, when a woodsman, Wilson Nascimento, came across a few individuals of the species in the Paraopeba municipality. The following year, this tree was described by Dr. Carlos Rizzini of the Rio de Janeiro Botanical Garden Research Institute, who had employed the woodsman as a research assistant. The scientific as well as common name of the species honour Mr. Wilson, who passed away shortly after the discovery.

It is curious how such a large tree species found in the vicinity of a metropolis was discovered so late. It was assumed that the species was never very abundant in nature. 15 years later, in 1984, Dr. Rizzini returned to that region and counted only 18 individuals of the species, both in Paraopeba as well as in the neighbouring municipality, Caetanópolis. Since he had encountered so few individuals, he believed that this species could be at risk of extinction.

Following this, the faveiro-de-wilson was forgotten about until 2003, when it was ‘rediscovered’ by researchers from the Parks and Zoo-Botanical Foundation of Belo Horizonte’s Botanic Garden. They visited the Paraopeba and Caetanópolis municipalities, where, in the midst of extended pastures of the invasive alien grass Urochloa decumbens (also known by its synonym Brachiaria or “braquiária” in Portuguese), they spotted a dozen old and peculiar faveiro-de-wilson trees.

This encounter led to several questions: Is the species rare? Does it only occur here? Is it facing extinction? What do we know about its biology and ecology? To answer these questions, the researchers began seed collection, nursery reproduction, and studies on phenology and population genetics. On realising that it was a rare and poorly documented species, finding more individuals and protecting this mysterious species became their priority. Committed to finding more faveiro-de-wilson individuals, the researchers ignored all the discouragement aimed at their attempts to protect a species considered a “lost cause”. They decided to carry out direct searches throughout the state of Minas Gerais. To help with this difficult task, they had an idea: creating and distributing “wanted” posters and leaflets with information about and photos of the species, as well as the team’s contact details. And thus, the long search for the faveiro-de-wilson began.

THE TREASURE HUNT

The search resembled a treasure hunt, except without a map for guidance. Outreach materials in hand, the group of researchers went to “hunt” for the faveiro-de-wilson, putting up posters everywhere and approaching local people, mostly in the country-side. They handed out leaflets with images and passed around samples of faveiro’s leaves, fruits, and seeds, which could be touched and smelled. The team asked if people knew the species and could help them locate individuals. Those who had the closest contact with nature and were interested in collaborating became special partners, who were later referred to as “faveiro hunters”.

The absence of a general mechanism to protect the species in its natural habitat led to the creation of a state decree in 2004, which declared a ban on the logging and exploitation of the faveiro-de-wilson in Minas Gerais. In 2006, the conservation status of the species was assessed and subsequently published in the IUCN Global Red List’s “Critically Endangered” category. Another couple of years later, the faveiro-de-wilson was also included in the Minas Gerais and Brazilian Official Red Lists.


In the following years, with logistical support from the State Forest Institute (IEF, acronym in Portuguese) and sponsorship from a cement company and a non-governmental organisation, the tree searches were reinforced and the research was extended to include physiology and reproductive biology. Other activities were also initiated at the same time, including the reintroduction of the species in suitable habitats and spreading environmental awareness through meetings, chats, and presentations in schools, at public squares, and other places. Thus, a simple project became the Faveiro-de-Wilson Conservation Programme, whose work was mainly focused in the central region of Minas Gerais, in the transition or ecotone zone between two biodiversity hotspots: the Cerrado (a vast tropical savannah) and the Atlantic Forest.


Although the conservation programme was focussed on a single species—the faveiro-de-wilson (D. wilsonii)—researchers stumbled upon another morphologically similar species during their surveys in the region. The faveiro-da-mata (Dimorphandra exaltata), native to the Atlantic Forest, is likewise rare and little investigated. Until then, it was known only from herbarium records collected in the eastern region of Minas Gerais and in some municipalities in the states of Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo. This was the first time that they observed it in the central region of Minas Gerais and such a discovery would bring more challenges and surprises.

CREATING A CONSERVATION ACTION PLAN

Thanks to community involvement, the treasure hunt for faveiro-de-wilson yielded good results. Up until 2013, 219 adult individuals had been recorded in 16 municipalities in the central region of Minas Gerais. They were able to show that the species was endemic to this region. With all the data and information gathered during the surveys, there was an impetus to create a Conservation Action Plan (CAP) for the species—Faveiro-de-Wilson CAP. This was done in partnership with the Brazilian National Centre for Plant Conservation of the Rio de Janeiro Botanical Garden Research Institute (CNCFlora/JBRJ, acronym in Portuguese) and involved 30 stakeholders from 10 institutions.

Five years later, in 2020, most of the conservation actions were implemented/executed by the stakeholders involved in the Faveiro-de-Wilson CAP. It was noted that faveiro-de-wilson and faveiro-da-mata are not used for commercial purposes. However, their pods/favas, although dry, are palatable and nutritious for animals, including wild species (e.g. tapir, paca, deer, cotia, and macaw) as well as cattle and horses, who also help disperse the seeds. Moreover, since the pods fall in the period when the pastures are dry, they are beneficial for farmers whose cattle feed on them. This fact has been used to advocate for the conservation of this species. However, although both species produce many fruits and seeds, the recruitment is low, and growth is slow and uneven. Additionally, the young plants have to compete with the aggressive alien grass, braquiária, as well as survive being trampled by cattle and predated on by insects, all of which leads to many losses, including in reintroduction attempts.

TRACING THE ORIGIN OF THE FAVEIRO

From the start, a genetic comparison was sought between the faveiro-de-wilson and the faveiro-do-campo (Dimorphandra mollis), a non-threatened and common species in the Cerrado with a wide distribution in Brazil. But after faveiro-da-mata was discovered where the researchers knew that the three species converged, they were all considered in the genetic studies performed by the Federal University of Minas Gerais (UFMG).

This led to a surprising discovery in 2019: the faveiro-de-wilson is a probable natural hybrid of faveiro-da-mata and faveiro-do-campo!

Such a revelation prompted researchers to make several adjustments along the way. For example, the illustrated educational booklet, which was being written for schools, ranchers, faveiro hunters, stakeholders and other partners, was published in 2020 under the title “Preserving the Rare Faveiros”, in order to also include faveiro-da-mata and faveiro-do-campo.

A milestone was reached in 2020, with a total of441 adult faveiro-de- wilson trees being georeferenced and marked in 24 municipalities. However, none of these trees were found inside Protected Areas and the vast majority of them are located in deforested landscapes. This makes the conservation of the species more challenging.

Additionally, 451 individuals of faveiro-da-mata were also found, georeferenced, and marked in the same region. For both species, the researchers observed that the main cause for drastic reduction was not any specific uses of the plants, but simply the destruction of their habitat. Based on this new information and expanding knowledge, CNCFlora/JBRJ has now re-evalua- ted the faveiro-de-wilson and down-listed the species from Critically Endangered to Endangered, also including the faveiro-da-mata in the same category. Both species assessments have been submitted and the faveiro-da-mata assessment has already been published on the IUCN Global Red List.

LOOKING TO THE FUTURE

CNCFlora/JBRJ recently joined forces with national and international institutions (e.g. IUCN SSC CSE-Brazil and CEPF) to develop the Conservation Action Plan for Threatened Faveiros Species (Dimorphandra), which includes faveiro-de-wilson and faveiro-da-mata as targets species, and faveiro-do-campo as beneficiary species. This made it possible to redefine the objectives and priority actions, as well as to expand the efforts undertaken for the conservation and recovery of their populations. This change was very important because the Cerrado and the Atlantic Forest, where these species occur, are under severe pressure from agricultural expansion and livestock rearing. Thus, conservation efforts from multiple angles are needed in order to succeed. Moreover, these efforts to restore and protect the faveiros and their habitat require national and international collaboration among stakeholders to drive investment and conservation outcomes.

Thousands of people have been involved in the conservation programme over the years—from different sectors (public, private, and non-governmental) and from different cities. This includes school students, local communities, faveiro hunters, the fire brigade, and rural landowners, who safeguard the two rare faveiros on their properties with great pride. It is also worth mentioning that in 2015, the Faveiro-de- Wilson Conservation Programme was awarded the National Biodiversity Award for the best Brazilian nature conservation initiative from the Ministry of Environment under the public service category. Through our joint efforts, we hope to continue expanding our work to protect these peculiar faveiros trees in a region which should be remembered not only for its mineral resources, but also its green treasures.

This article has been translated into Portuguese and is available in the online version of the issue (www.currentconservation.org/issues/)

Further Reading
Fernandes, F. M., A. C. R. Pereira, A. C. Roque and S. C. Fonseca, S.C. 2020. Preservando os raros faveiros. Belo Horizonte: Fundação de Parques Municipais e Zoobotânica.

Fernandes, F. M. and J. O. Rego.2014. Dimorphandra wilsonii Rizzini (Fabaceae): Distribution, habitat and conservation status. Acta Botanica Brasilica 28: 434–444. https://doi.org/10.1590/0102-33062014abb3409.


Muniz, A. C., J. P. Lemos-Filho, H. A. Souza, R. C. Marinho, R. S. Buzatti, M. Heuertz and M. B. Lovato. 2020. The protected tree Dimorphandra wilsonii (Fabaceae) is a population of inter-specific hybrids: Recommendations for conservation in the Brazilian Cerrado/Atlantic Forest ecotone. Annals of botany 126: 191–203.
https://doi.org/10.1093/aob/mcaa066.
Maithili Joshi Illustrator
Fernando Moreira Fernandes Author
Marcio Verdi Author
Thaís Andrade Ferreira Dória Author
Fernanda Saleme Author
Marcela Barbosa Author
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Faveiro-de-Wilson: O tesouro escondido de Minas Gerais, Brasil (Português)

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Descoberta do Faveiro

Em Minas Gerais, estado do sudeste brasileiro conhecido por sua riqueza mineral, há outro tipo de tesouro natural que ainda está escondido: a árvore faveiro-de-wilson (Dimorphandra wilsonii) da família das leguminosas. Sua história certamente começou muito tempo antes, mas ela só foi conhecida pela ciência em 1968, quando um mateiro, Sr. Wilson Nascimento, se deparou com alguns indivíduos da espécie no município de Paraopeba. No ano seguinte, essa árvore foi descrita pelo Dr. Carlos Rizzini, do Instituto de Pesquisas Jardim Botânico do Rio de Janeiro, que tinha o mateiro como assistente de pesquisa. Por isso, os nomes científico e comum da espécie gentilmente homenageiam o Sr. Wilson, que faleceu logo após a descoberta.

É curioso como uma espécie de arvore de grande porte, existente não tão longe de uma metrópole, foi descoberta tão tardiamente. Isto levou à suposição de que a espécie nunca foi muito abundante na natureza. Quinze anos depois, em 1984, o Dr. Rizzini retornou àquela região e contou apenas 18 indivíduos da espécie, em Paraopeba e no município vizinho, Caetanópolis. Como havia encontrado tão poucos indivíduos, ele considerou que essa espécie poderia estar em risco de extinção.

E depois disto, o faveiro-de-wilson ficou esquecido até 2003, quando foi “redescoberto” pelos pesquisadores do Jardim Botânico da Fundação de Parques Municipais e Zoobotânica de Belo Horizonte. Eles visitaram os municípios de Paraopeba e Caetanópolis, onde, em meio a extensas pastagens com o capim exótico e invasor, Urochloa decumbens (conhecida pelo nome comum braquiária; que tem como sinônimo Brachiaria), encontraram uma dúzia de velhas e peculiares árvores de faveiro-de-wilson.

Este encontro levou-lhes a várias questões: A espécie será mesmo rara? Ela só ocorre aqui? Está de fato em risco de extinção? Como será sua biologia e ecologia? Para responder a essas questões, os pesquisadores iniciaram ações como a coleta de sementes, reprodução em viveiro e estudos sobre fenologia e genética de populações. Ao perceberem que era uma espécie rara e insuficientemente documentada, encontrar mais indivíduos e proteger essa espécie misteriosa tornaram-se suas prioridades. Comprometidos em encontrar mais árvores de faveiro-de-wilson, os pesquisadores ignoraram todos os comentários que desencorajavam as suas tentativas de proteger uma espécie considerada como uma “causa perdida” e resolveram procurá-la em todo o estado de Minas Gerais. Como este seria um trabalho muito difícil e a equipe era pequena, eles buscaram envolver as comunidades locais. Para isso, criaram e distribuíram um cartaz com o título “Procura-se” e um folheto que continham informações e fotos da espécie e os contatos da equipe.

A caça ao tesouro

A jornada de busca parecia uma caça ao tesouro, mas sem um mapa para orientação. Com os materiais de divulgação em mãos, o grupo de pesquisadores foi à “caça” ao faveiro-de-wilson, afixando cartazes por toda parte e abordando as pessoas no campo. Eles também distribuíram os folhetos, mostraram folhas, frutos e sementes do faveiro e perguntaram às pessoas se conheciam a espécie e poderiam ajudá-los a encontrá-la. Aquelas pessoas que tinham mais familiaridade com a natureza e que também estavam interessadas em colaborar, tornaram-se parceiras especiais e foram reconhecidas como “caçadores de faveiro”.

A ausência de um mecanismo geral para proteger a espécie em seu habitat natural levou à criação de um Decreto estadual em 2004, que declarou a proibição de corte e exploração do faveiro-de-wilson em Minas Gerais. Em 2006, o estado de conservação da espécie foi avaliado e, posteriormente, publicado na Lista Vermelha Global da IUCN na categoria “Criticamente em perigo” de extinção. Alguns anos depois, o faveiro-de-wilson também foi incluído nas Listas Vermelhas Oficiais de Minas Gerais e do Brasil.

Nos anos seguintes, com apoio logístico do Instituto Estadual de Florestas (IEF-MG) e patrocínio de uma empresa de cimento, as buscas pela árvore foram reforçadas e as pesquisas passaram a incluir fisiologia e biologia reprodutiva. Paralelamente, outras atividades também foram iniciadas, incluindo a reintrodução da espécie em habitats adequados e a ampliação da conscientização ambiental por meio de reuniões, bate-papos e apresentações em escolas, praças públicas e outros locais. Assim, um projeto simples transformou-se no Programa de Conservação do Faveiro-de-Wilson, cujo trabalho se concentrou principalmente na região Central de Minas Gerais, na transição ou zona de ecótono entre dois hotspots de biodiversidade: o Cerrado—uma vasta savana tropical—e a Mata Atlântica.

Embora o Programa estivesse focado em uma única espécie—o faveiro-de-wilson (D. wilsonii)—os pesquisadores, durante os seus levantamentos na região, se depararam com outra espécie morfologicamente semelhante. Trata-se do faveiro-da-mata (Dimorphandra exaltata), uma espécie originária da Mata Atlântica e igualmente rara e pouco estudada. Até então, a espécie era conhecida apenas a partir dos registros de coleções científicas, que haviam sido realizados na região Leste de Minas Gerais e em alguns municípios dos estados do Rio de Janeiro e São Paulo. Essa foi a primeira vez que o faveiro-da-mata foi encontrado na região Central de Minas Gerais e tal descoberta traria mais desafios e surpresas.

Criando um Plano de Ação para a Conservação

Graças ao envolvimento da comunidade, a caça ao tesouro para o faveiro-de-wilson rendeu bons resultados. Até 2013, tinham sido registrados 219 indivíduos adultos em 16 municípios da região Central de Minas Gerais e foi comprovado que a espécies era endêmica dessa região. Com todos os dados e as informações acumuladas nesses 10 anos de trabalho, surgiu então o impulso de criar um Plano de Ação Nacional (PAN) para a Conservação do Faveiro-de-Wilson – PAN Faveiro-de-Wilson. Isso foi feito em parceria com o Centro Nacional de Conservação da Flora do Instituto de Pesquisas Jardim Botânico do Rio de Janeiro (CNCFlora/JBRJ) e envolveu 30 participantes de 10 instituições.

Cinco anos depois, em 2020, a maioria das ações de conservação haviam sido implementadas/executadas pelos colaboradores envolvidos no PAN Faveiro-de-Wilson. Notou-se que o faveiro-de-wilson e o faveiro-da-mata não são utilizados para fins comerciais. No entanto, suas vagens/favas, embora secas, são palatáveis e nutritivas para os animais, incluindo espécies silvestres (ex. anta, paca, veado, cotia e arara), além de bovinos e equinos que também ajudam a dispersar as sementes. Além disso, como as vagens caem no período em que as pastagens estão secas, elas são benéficas para os agricultores cujo gado se alimenta delas. Este fato tem sido usado como uma das justificativas para a conservação destas espécies. No entanto, embora ambas as espécies produzam muitos frutos e sementes, o recrutamento é baixo e o crescimento é lento e desigual. Além disso, as plantas jovens precisam competir com o agressivo capim braquiária, bem como resistir ao pisoteamento do gado e à predação por insetos, o que acarreta muitas perdas, inclusive nas tentativas de reintrodução.

Traçando a origem do Faveiro

Desde o início das pesquisas, buscou-se uma comparação genética entre o faveiro-de-wilson e o faveiro-do-campo (Dimorphandra mollis), uma espécie não ameaçada de extinção e comum no Cerrado, com ampla distribuição no Brasil. Mas depois que o faveiro-da-mata foi descoberto e os pesquisadores notaram que as três espécies coexistiam nessa região, os estudos genéticos realizados pela Universidade Federal de Minas Gerais (UFMG) passaram a considerar todas elas. Isso levou a uma descoberta surpreendente em 2019: o faveiro-de-wilson é um provável híbrido natural de faveiro-da-mata e faveiro-do-campo! Tal revelação levou os pesquisadores a fazer vários ajustes ao longo do caminho. Como exemplo, a cartilha educativa ilustrada para escolas, fazendeiros, “caçadores de faveiros”, colaboradores e outros parceiros, que estava sendo escrita, foi publicada em 2020 com o título “Preservando os Raros Faveiros”, de modo a incluir também o faveiro-da-mata e o faveiro-do-campo.

Um marco foi alcançado em 2020, com um total de 441 árvores adultas de faveiro-de-wilson georreferenciadas e marcadas em 24 municípios. No entanto, nenhuma dessas árvores foi encontrada dentro de unidades de conservação de proteção integral e a grande maioria delas está localizada em áreas degradadas, o que torna a conservação da espécie mais desafiadora. E quanto ao faveiro-da-mata 451 indivíduos também foram encontrados, georreferenciados e marcados na mesma região. Para ambas as espécies, os pesquisadores observaram que a principal causa para a drástica redução não foi nenhum uso específico da planta, mas simplesmente a destruição do seu habitat. Com base nessas novas informações e na ampliação do conhecimento, o CNCFlora/JBRJ reavaliou o faveiro-de-wilson e alterou a categoria da espécie de “Criticamente em perigo” para “Em perigo” de extinção. O faveiro-da-mata também foi avaliado e incluído na mesma categoria. Ambas as avaliações foram submetidas à IUCN, sendo que a avaliação do faveiro-da-mata já foi publicada na Lista Vermelha Global.

Olhando para o futuro

Recentemente, o CNCFlora/JBRJ uniu forças também com instituições nacionais e internacionais (ex. IUCN SSC CSE-Brasil e CEPF) para elaborar o Plano de Ação Nacional para a Conservação dos Faveiros (Dimorphandra) Ameaçados de Extinção – PAN Faveiros, que tem o faveiro-de-wilson e faveiro-da-mata como espécies-alvo e o faveiro-do-campo como espécie beneficiária. Isso possibilitou redefinir os objetivos e ações prioritárias, bem como ampliar os esforços empreendidos para a conservação e recuperação de suas populações. Essa mudança foi muito importante porque o Cerrado e a Mata Atlântica, onde essas espécies ocorrem, estão sob forte pressão da expansão agrícola e da pecuária. Assim, os esforços de conservação de vários ângulos são necessários para ter sucesso. Além disso, esses esforços para restaurar e proteger os faveiros e seu habitat exigem a colaboração nacional e internacional entre as partes interessadas para impulsionar o investimento de recursos financeiros e os resultados de conservação.

Ao longo desses anos, milhares de pessoas, de diferentes setores (público, privado e não-governamental) e cidades, têm sido envolvidas no Programa de Conservação. Isso inclui alunos de escolas, comunidades locais, “caçadores de faveiros” e aqueles proprietários rurais que com muito orgulho guardam os dois raros faveiros em suas propriedades. Vale mencionar também que em 2015 o Programa de Conservação do Faveiro-de-Wilson recebeu o Prêmio Nacional de Biodiversidade do Ministério do Meio Ambiente como a melhor iniciativa brasileira de conservação da natureza na categoria serviço público. Por meio de nossos esforços conjuntos, esperamos continuar expandindo nosso trabalho para proteger essas peculiares árvores de faveiros em uma região que deve ser lembrada não apenas por seus recursos minerais, mas também por seus tesouros verdes.

Leitura adicional

Fernandes, F.M. (coord.), Pereira, A.C.R, Roque, A.C., Fonseca, S.C. 2020. Preservando os raros faveiros. Fundação de Parques Municipais e Zoobotânica, Belo Horizonte. 36p. ISBN: 978-65-991933-1-6 https://prefeitura.pbh.gov.br/sites/default/files/estrutura-de-governo/fundacao-de-parques-e-zoobotanica/zoo-botanica/preservando-os-raros-faveiros-fpmzb-2020-para-e-book.pdf

Fernandes, F.M., Rego, J.O., 2014. Dimorphandra wilsonii Rizzini (Fabaceae): Distribution, habitat and conservation status. Acta Botanica Brasilica, 28, 434–444. https://doi.org/10.1590/0102-33062014abb3409

Muniz, A.C., Lemos-Filho, J.P., Souza, H.A., Marinho, R.C., Buzatti, R.S., Heuertz, M., Lovato, M.B., 2020. The protected tree Dimorphandra wilsonii (Fabaceae) is a population of inter-specific hybrids: Recommendations for conservation in the Brazilian Cerrado/Atlantic Forest ecotone. Annals of Botany, 126, 191–203. https://doi.org/10.1093/aob/mcaa066
Fernando Moreira Fernandes Author
Marcio Verdi Author
Thaís Andrade Ferreira Dória Author
Marcela Barbosa Author
Fernanda Saleme Author
Maithili Joshi Illustrator
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Plant pilfering and the pandemic

How online trends and trade may be the next threat to endangered plants

In April of 2021, four plants went missing from outside the gates of the Gurukula Botanical Sanctuary in the Western Ghats of Wayanad, Kerala. The plants were closely related to the ubiquitous money plant and belonged to the genus Anthurium, which is prized for its ornamental foliage. Weeks later, amidst occasional smaller disappearances, a large Anthurium warocqueanum plant—also known as the ‘Queen Anthurium’—went missing from inside the gates. The targeting of exotic species, and the circumstances surrounding the thefts coincided exactly with cases I had heard of while working at the Auroville Botanical Gardens in Tamil Nadu. These cases also reminded me of the thefts of rare species from Kew Gardens in 2014, and more recently, from the Penang botanical gardens in Malaysia. Intrigued, I contacted Suprabha Seshan—a restoration ecologist and the head of the trust that runs Gurukula—and she quickly confirmed my initial impressions. The instances at Gurukula and Auroville are part of a larger trend linking the global horticultural trade, the desire for exotic species, and a worldwide houseplant renaissance sparked by the pandemic.

During my time at the Auroville Botanical Gardens (AVBG), many of the horticulturists related stories of orchids, ferns, and cacti going missing from their collections. The carnivorous plants were so tempting that before long, there were none left in the botanical gardens! As a result of these regular thefts, AVBG had little choice but to keep its collection of over 250 cacti species under lock and key in their specially constructed cactus house. Gradually, I began noticing a pattern in the cases—while the species and types of plants targeted seemed random, they had a common denominator. Almost all the plants that were stolen were of ornamental value, and had gone “viral” on the internet at some point. So it was not the priceless orchids native to the Western Ghats that were stolen, but the showy and common Cattleya; ray ferns native to the local sandstone hills—and almost impossible to find in cultivation—were left alone in favour of the exotic carnivorous plants; and the Stapeliads from South Africa in the cactus house were passed over for the internet-famous Astrophytum with its attractive white striations. I noticed the same trend in the Gurukula—while the sanctuary grows hundreds of species of rare plants from the Ghats, the species stolen belonged to the genera Diffenbachia and Anthurium. The latter, native to South America, has gained cult status in the plant world, with single cuttings being sold for well over $100 on online auction sites.

So, where is the problem? If the species being stolen are not native or endangered, and are easily replaceable, then apart from the inconvenience, aren’t the thefts fairly benign? The answer is no, and to understand why, it’s important to first understand how global plant trends work. To start with, these trends are not new.

From the Ottoman and later Dutch obsession with tulips in the 17th century, to the Victorian infatuation with tropical ferns and orchids, to the current craze over cacti and succulents in Japan, Singapore, and Southeast Asia, cultivating the unusual and exotic affords a rare thrill to growers. Historically, the possession of plants from across the world has been a powerful status symbol, and a way to show off one’s wealth. Today, it is a hobby for millions, but the channels of status and popularity have shifted from ballrooms and glasshouses to the realm of social media.

Characteristically capricious, plant trends change with the fashions and sensibilities of the day. Dutch tulips famously crashed and caused economic ruin, and Victorian orchids became so common that now they bloom on supermarket shelves everywhere. But these unpredictable changes in popularity coupled with the amplifying power of the internet make for a potentially dangerous powder keg. During the global COVID-19 pandemic, lockdown restrictions and online retail spurred a global surge in the number of people buying houseplants. Google searches for the term “gardening” spiked in March 2020, reaching an all-time high by May. Trends around owning ornamental plants sweeping social media can quickly translate into a massive demand for rare and unusual species, and this demand can be fulfilled by online retailers, nurseries and individuals, in an almost undetectable manner. Many plant conservationists fear for the remaining populations of rare species in the wild, should they be the targets of the next social media trend.

Horticultural trends have undeniably had effects on wild plant populations in the past, and in many cases continue to do so today. Foliage plants such as Peperomia, Hoya, Anthurium, and Begonia, are routinely smuggled out of South America, Southeast Asia and tropical forests elsewhere—often, many of these species are new to science. In the coastal cliff habitats of California in North America, wild populations of Dudleya, a rare genus of succulents, have been nearly exhausted due to illegal collection for sale in the exotic plant trade. Similarly, many South African succulents, such as Conophytum, have also been over-collected for horticultural trade to the point of endangerment. In fact, several online sale/auction websites prevalent among enthusiasts place a premium on rare and ‘unclassified’ species.

The anthropogenic Allee effect—a term used in wildlife trade to describe a syndrome of increasing prices with increasing rarity—applies robustly to the plant kingdom as well. CITES is a multilateral treaty that aims to protect endangered plants and animals by ensuring that international trade does not threaten their survival in the wild. While wildlife trafficking gets plenty of media attention, few people realise that of the 37,000 species currently protected under CITES regulations, more than 30,000 are plants, and over 90 percent of which belong to just one family: the orchids. Since horticultural demands for rare and unusual plants posing a threat to wild and endangered populations is a relatively new problem, conservation discourse is still divided on what may be the most effective way of addressing it.

Two broad viewpoints emerge on the horticulture of rare species. The first is vehemently against this, maintaining that it is too difficult to regulate and only feeds the dange rous premium on rarity. This viewpoint is supported by policies such as CITES which aim to regulate trade, but in practice make it nearly impossible to move plants and plant material across international borders, often even for accredited scientific institutions. Similarly, Gurukula Botanical Sanctuary maintains an ethos of pure environ mental conservation by aiming to remain non-commercial and by not selling any of their plants on the grounds that the commercialisation of any lifeform is intrinsically unethical. Suprabha Seshan believes that to remain devoted to conservation, one must also work towards stalling species extinction, which in the case of plants means keeping them out of large-scale commercial trade. She also points to the politics of resource appropriation: plant trade in India has a colonial legacy, which arguably caused more harm than any other factor to Gurukula’s regional Nilgiri ecosystem through the introduction of
exotic species—many of which have since become invasive—for large-scale plantations.

The other point of view suggests that by making endangered plants common in horticulture, one could sate the ever-growing demand for exotic plants, preventing their collection from the wild. This could be a distinct possibility due to the ease of large-scale propagation techniques, such as tissue culture, which are commonly employed in commercial horticulture. Eminent botanical institutions seem to back this stance. For instance, at Kew Gardens in London, one can buy a Wollemi pine sapling—one of the most endangered conifers in the world—for a little over $70. Paul Blancheflower, Director of the Auroville Botanical Gardens, insists that this approach is the only feasible way of protecting plants in the wild, as well as in scientific collections, such as those at AVBG and Gurukula. This also provides an addi tional source of income to these institutions, which helps fund vital conservation work. Conversely, the efficacy of this approach may vary between species and relies heavily on the supply of rare plants, which is tightly controlled by various institutions.


While neither of these solutions is a silver bullet, they both have potential and their application in the real world is dictated by specifics of region, taxa, and demand. However, one must think carefully about the implications of tying conservation goals to something as erratic as the plant trade.

The very real possibility of increasing the premium on rarity looms over the solution—people will always want what they can’t have, and in this case it may lead to further exploitation of wild populations. Two thirds of all cycad species, nearly half of all threatened cacti, and other plants prized as rarities and collectibles, are endangered due to over-collection and illegal trade—problems that horticulture has not addressed in the past. As we look to the future, we must ask whether cultivation can aid conservation, and if yes, how to frame and regulate it in a way that can truly be of value to conservation in the connected and clandestine age of the internet.

Further Reading
Lavorgna, A., S. E. Middleton, D. Whitehead, C. Cowell and M. Payne. 2020. FloraGuard: Tackling the illegal trade in endangered plants. London: Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew.


Pavord, A. 1999. The Tulip: The Story of a Flower That Has Made Men Mad. New York: Bloomsbury.


Hansen, E. 2001 Orchid Fever: A Horticultural Tale of Love, Lust and Lunacy. London: Methuen Publishing Ltd.
Soham Kacker Author
Shivangi Pant Illustrator
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THE FRUIT OF OTHERS’ LABOURS

Recently, on one of my aimless virtual rambles, I found myself re-reading commentaries on the significance of a pivotal botanical text—the Hortus Malabaricus. It struck me that when I had first read these articles around two decades ago, I had followed the plot only in a superficial way because I had believed that they were making a point about Dutch contributions to botanical classifications and nothing more. However, when I read the commentaries again recently, I had a ‘light bulb’ moment. I realised that the Hortus could be understood as a retelling of an earlier, ecologically embedded knowledge of plants. In other words, the Hortus was not a story of how the Dutch discovered various plants of the Malabar region and their uses, but rather, it was a story of how the Dutch discovered the traditional botanical knowledge of the Ezhava community of the Malabar region. In some ways, the most intriguing part of the Hortus tale is that its sequel unfolded three centuries later!

But let me begin at the beginning:

The Hortus Malabaricus in its original form is a weighty tome of 12 volumes, which were all written in Latin and published between the years 1678—1693. In total, it contained copious multisensorial descriptions of 780 plants of the Malabar region, including the localities and habitats in which they were found, the smell and taste of various botanical parts, and the familial resemblances between different species. The text was accompanied by 794 meticulous illustrations that were labelled in Malayalam, Arabic, Roman, and Devanagiri scripts. (Some of the Malayalam names are still in use. That apart, the drawings were so true to life that three centuries later, scholars could identify the genus based on the illustrations alone.) It also documented the medicinal value and use of over 600 of these species.

This landmark volume was compiled by the Dutch governor of the Cochin region at that time, one Hendrik van Rheede dot Drakenstein. Van Rheede in particular, and the Dutch in general, were interested in competing with other European colonists to break the Arab monopoly over trade in medicinal and other economically useful plants of Asia. The Europeans were mostly unsuccessful in deciphering the botany of a region that was completely different from their own terrain, with two notable exceptions: Garcia da Orta who was the Portuguese author of a text on ethnomedicine, the Colóquios dos simples e drogas da India (published in 1563), and our protagonist, van Rheede. It appears that the latter was able to move past the cultural barrier to gaining botanical knowledge by developing a deep personal rapport with Indian experts on the Malabar region: an eminent physician from the Ezhava caste named Itty Achuden was the main contributor. He hailed from the Collet vaidya lineage of Carappuram (a place 25 km south of Cochin), and it was his ecologically embedded, practical knowledge that shaped the Hortus. Three Brahmin Ayurvedic practitioners Ranga Bhat, Vinayaka Pandit, and Appu Bhat also assisted van Rheede, but their understanding was largely textual and abstract.

Overall, it is estimated that the compilation of the Hortus involved the labours of 200-odd people, including Ezhava plant collectors, a select group of Indian physicians who ‘peer reviewed’ the manuscript, the interpreters of the Dutch East India Company, another select group of European botanists who further validated the species described. The collecting expeditions were supported by the Raja of Cochin and the Zamorin of Calicut and two wealthy Dutch patronesses, who financed the publishing costs but are merely referred to in the Hortus as ‘the widow of John van Someren, the heir of John van Dyck, Henry, and the widow of Theodore Broom’.

What is striking about this entire process is the deep regard that van Rheede had for his Indian collaborators’ knowledge. He acknowledges their role clearly in the frontis-piece of the Hortus, in a historical period during which racism and Eurocentrism were par for the course. For example, a little-known fact is that Carolus Linnaeus, who is often dubbed ‘the father of modern taxonomy’, assiduously studied the Hortus in 1740 and extended the Ezhava taxonomic principles to describe over 200 new species.


Therefore, my newfound understanding was that if we pay careful attention to how certain texts and historical figures come to be lauded and remembered as authoritative sources of knowledge, in contrast to those who are ignored or rejected, we can also learn about the politics of science in that period, i.e. what counted as ‘real’ knowledge and who was valorised as its authors.

However, the story does not end here:

In 2003, the Hortus Malabaricus became much more accessible to botanists around the world when a rigorous English translation was published by an Indian botanist, Professor K. S. Manilal, who was also from the Malabar region (the modern state of Kerala). He later produced a Malayalam edition too.

Manilal’s dedication to the task surpasses even van Rheede’s because it took him several decades of gruelling work and it was completed with far less support. He not only faithfully translated over a thousand pages of 17th century Latin into English, but also added his own commentaries on the botanical descriptions in each volume. In an interesting inversion, Manilal’s translation includes an appendix of plant names in Dutch. But perhaps his crowning achievement was to collect and reassemble a herbarium of almost all the species mentioned in the Hortus with help of one of his students and co-authors, C. R. Suresh (since van Rheede’s original collection has disappeared). This mammoth project was supported by the University Grants Commission and the Smithsonian Institution.

By 1988, these efforts enabled Manilal to co-author the book An interpretation of van Rheede’s Hortus Malabaricus, which is considered a classic by the International Association of Plant Taxonomists, as well as a fascinating Malayalam commentary in 1996, titled A study on the role of Itty Achuden in the compilation of Hortus Malabaricus. Understandably, the figure of Itty Achuden seems to have haunted Manilal over the decades that he engaged with the Hortus—he took extraordinary pains to gather material on this iconic but mysterious figure. But sadly, he found that there seemed to be neither other texts authored by Itty Achuden himself nor any trace of texts that might have informed the Collet vaidya lineage (since they were literate, hereditary physicians).

Manilal generously transferred the copyright to his path-breaking English translation to the University of Kerala for free in 2003 (followed by the copyright to the Malayalam edition in 2008). However, the institution proceeded to organise a formal book release without even inviting the author. Fortunately, others were considerably more appreciative: over the span of his career, Manilal was awarded the Vishwambhar Puri medal by the Indian Botanical Society, Y.D. Tyagi gold medal by the Indian Association of Angiosperm Taxonomy, E. K. Janaki Ammal National Award for Taxonomy, the Padma Shri and the (Dutch) Order of the Orange-Nassau. But the most appropriate recognition perhaps is that other botanists have named several species of plants after him, such as Lindernia manilaliana. Incidentally, a ‘liana’ is a woody climber!

Further Reading
Grove, R. 1996. Indigenous knowledge and the significance of south-west India for Portuguese and Dutch constructions of tropical nature. Modern Asian Studies 30(1): 121–143.


Manilal, K. S. 2012. Medicinal plants first described in Hortus Malabaricus, the first Indian regional flora published in 1678 and its relevance to the people of India today. In: Multidisciplinary approaches in angiosperm systematics (eds. Maiti, G. and Mukherjee, S. K.). Volume 2. Pp 558–565. Kalyani, India: Publication Cell, University of Kalyani.


Mohan Ram, Y. S. 2005. On the English edition of van Rheede’s Hortus Malabaricus by K. S. Manilal (2003). Current Science 89(10): 1672–1680.


Spudich, A. 2008. Such treasure & rich merchandize. In: Exhibition catalogue. Pp 72. Bangalore: National Centre for Biological Sciences, Tata Institute of Fundamental Research.
Madhuri Ramesh Author
Srihari Gnanavelu Illustrator
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How culture threatens species

A note on Caryota urens in South India

Different human cultures have their own ways of conserving plant and animal species—sometimes this is in the form of tiny sacred groves, and other times it could include entire hillsides. In Central India, individual plant species figure in the first fruit ceremonies of the adivasi (indigenous) communities. During certain periods of the year, their fruits, flowers, leaves or seeds are not collected or consumed. This allows those species to rest for a few weeks or months during crucial periods for their growth or regeneration.

The norms around these practices or methods are often embedded within the cultural-religious traditions of communities. As a knowledge system being transferred between generations, seldom are they explained or discussed in terms of ecology or conservation. This may be a reason why, when things go wrong (overharvest, collection of immature seeds), there is no mechanism within the tradition that can set matters straight. This is especially true of species that are not much used within the culture, and hence have not received any particular attention, and whose slipping away from the collective forest or local flora goes unnoticed. A good example of such a species is ‘menda’ or Litsea sebifera, whose bark was harvested in great quantities for making incense sticks. Much of the Central Indian forests are now characterised by an absence of this species. Other such species that are extracted solely for commercial purposes, and outside of traditional norms, include ‘baibidang’ (Embelia ribes), ‘sarpagandha’ (Rauwolfia sepentina), and ‘guduchi’ (Tinosporia cordifolia).

The more common absences (or minimal presence) in forest settings are timber species—rosewood, ebony, mahogany, red sanders, haldu, cedar—which have over the years been smuggled out for their value in furniture and construction. The only way to keep these species from declining in numbers is to cultivate them in private homesteads as well as in plantations. The official authority in charge of many of these species—and responsible for prohibiting their felling and transport—is the Forest Department.

THE CASE OF CARYOTA URENS

The fishtail palm Caryota urens (‘kundapanai’ or ‘kunja- panai’ in Tamil and ‘salopa’ in Odia) may soon be added to our list of endangered species in India, especially in Tamil Nadu. Caryota is a genus of tall palms with a few broad, bipinnate leaves. There are ten species which are distributed from India to Australia. The name Caryota comes from the Greek karyota, ‘date-shaped nut’, and urens refers to the stinging, needle like crystals in the outer covering of the fruit. The kundapanai, C. urens, can grow more than 15 m tall but is usually between 10–12 m high. The trunk is slightly ringed and the leaves start at a height of 5–7 m.

In Tamil Nadu, especially in the districts of Theni, Madurai, Palani, and Dindigul, the tree is used in decorative ‘pandals’—makeshift venues erected for events. The entire flowering stalk, usually with the long string of immature seeds, is lopped off the tree and then hung at the entrance of wedding halls, temples, venues where political speeches are given, house-warming ceremonies, and so on. These decorations, especially for events and ceremonies in temples, is a norm strictly followed. The devotees of a temple may go to great lengths to find and procure the required materials, especially the kundapanai stalks. Once the event is over, these stalks are simply discarded.

For a few months after March, when the temple festivities begin, marauding gangs come to harvest stalks of the fishtail palm, and often the fronds too, going about their business with a righteous air. They enter private lands and estates as well as protected forests, with equal impunity and take what they can. Their announcement that they are taking the flowering stalks to decorate such-and-such a temple is expected to prevent any dissent or disagreement. Most of these gangs come prepared with pickup trucks to load the stalks in, accompanied by about 15–20 men on motorcycles, with ropes and machetes. No checkposts or authorities dare to stop them.

Through the spring and summer months, such gangs come regularly into the hills and forested regions of these districts, leaving mutilated palm trunks in their wake. Many of these people have now become traders in palm stalks with no religious intention to decorate any temple—they cater only to the demand.

With the large number of temples in Tamil Nadu (79,154 according to a recent survey), it is not surprising that there is a constant demand for palm fronds and stalks. Add to this the large number of unsurveyed temples and private events that demand their share of ‘pandals’, and one gets an idea of how vulnerable the fishtail palm is likely to become.

In the Central Indian context (Chhattisgarh, Madhya Pradesh, Odisha, Jharkhand), the flowering stalk of the palm is tapped for toddy. In some places the toddy is then converted to jaggery (a coarse dark brown sugar), a litre of toddy yielding about 125 mg of jaggery. Here too, the tapping destroys or prevents the formation of new seeds, leading to a dearth of mature seeds that will regenerate and grow into new plants. However, among these communities there is a consciousness that unless there are new palm trees the overall flow of their beloved toddy will come to a stop! This makes people spare a flowering stalk or two just for seed, and there is a desire to nurture palms in their backyards and homesteads. Owning, trading and tapping toddy palms is a matter of pride within the community. Such an attachment to the species ensures that the palm is in safe hands, despite the detrimental usage.

LOOKING AHEAD

There are no attempts to grow the palm in Tamil Nadu as they do in Central India. Moreover, there is little or no knowledge about seed collection or the time and conditions required for the seeds to germinate. Discussions with the people who come to harvest the flowering stalks reveal that most of them have not even seen the seed or sapling. There are no efforts by the government or private nurseries to cultivate these palms at a large scale: all the flowering stalks harvested necessarily come from the wild. Elephants are also known to relish the leaves of the toddy palm, and occasionally elephant keepers come to the hills looking for this particular fodder.

Caryota seeds have a long viability and can tolerate the vagaries of both soil and weather. Even under controlled conditions they take about six to 12 weeks to germinate, as compared to naturally dispersed seeds, which can take up to six months. The fruits are consumed by monkeys and civets. Seeds found in their droppings germinate well. Though the long seed viability is an excellent strategy for survival in the wild, there is little one can do if flowering stalks are lopped off before the seeds mature, due to cultural-religious reasons.

The decline of the fishtail palm is mainly due to a cultural-religious custom and more difficult to stop or correct than if it was a blatantly commercial phenomenon. Moreover, a recent conversation with members of SEEDs Trust, an NGO working in Tamil Nadu, revealed that in some villages in the Natham Block of Dindigul district, people are engaged in felling specific trees–’atthi’ (Ficus glomerata), ‘ala’ (Ficus benghalensis), ‘arasu’ (Ficus religiosa), ‘illipe’ (Madhuca indica), ‘naval’ (Syzigium cumini), and a few others— and then chopping the trees into little bits. These bits are dried, mixed, and packed into bags of specific quantities, before being smuggled out. Such wood is apparently used in the performance of Vedic ‘homam’ rituals, which involve a ceremony around a fire that uses such wood species.

It is necessary that the concerned authorities deliberate on the new cultural trends that are detrimental to plant species. Biologists can flag these issues, but it requires leaders and officials from other sectors and departments to stem the losses to our natural resources. There is a real danger of more and more species being included in the so-called cultural-religious “traditions” of a people and slipping out of any rational intervention to save them.

Further Reading
Ramnath, M. 2003. Tropical deciduous forests and the
adivasi: Indigenous traditions as response to leaf fall in
Bastar, India. Natural Science Forum 27: 304–309.


Coombes, A. J. 1992. The Hamlyn Guide to Plant Names.
UK: Reed International Books.


Haines, H. H. 1993. The forest flora of Chota Nagpur.
Dehradun: Bishen Singh Mahendrapal Singh.
Madhu Ramnath Author
Karunya Baskar Illustrator
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THE MIGHTY INDIAN REDWOOD TREE

In the tropical evergreen forests of the southern Western Ghats of India—more than 9000 miles away from the land of the largest tree in the world, the California redwood (Sequoia sempervirens)—dwells the Tirunelveli redwood tree (Gluta travancorica). Clustered populations of this majestic tree grow to a height of 35–45 m and are distributed in discontinuous small as well as large patches at an elevational range of 300–1200 m above sea level. The species belongs to the family Anacardiaceae, commonly known as the cashew family or the sumac family. Gluta comes from the Latin word ‘gluten’ or ‘glutus’, referring to the petals which are glued to the stipe (the stalk that supports the flower’s ovary, while travancorica refers to the erstwhile kingdom of Travancore, where the tree occurs. Different vernacular names like ‘thenmavu’, ‘thodappei’, ‘chenkurinji’, and ‘shenkurinji’ have been attributed to the tree, based on its distribution in the South Indian states of Tamil Nadu and Kerala.

According to the IUCN Red List database, the Tirunelveli redwood or chenkurinji is classified as ‘near threatened’. The species was heavily logged for its ornamental hardwood in the past, during the reign of the Travancore kings, and later by the British. This red-coloured heartwood was cut down for building construction, making cabinets and furniture, decorative interior joinery, turnery articles and carvings, tool handles, and shipbuilding. The bruised surface of the bark of G. travancorica and allied species exudes an acrid resinous juice that turns black on air exposure and is used as lacquer. One such species, Gluta usitata, is commonly known as Burmese lacquer because of the characteristic bole, which is tapped for its lacquer. Most species in the Anacardiaceae family contain an irritant class of compounds called urushiols. Similarly, the resinous exudate from G. travancorica can cause extreme contact allergies in some people. Therefore, caution should be exercised while touching any part of this tree.


In the current scenario, logging of G. travancorica is strictly prohibited by the Kerala Preservation of Trees Act 1986. This has curbed the extent of logging. However, chenkurinji is a sensitive, altitude-specific tree, especially at the seedling stage. This has put a massive dent in the afforestation activities focused on the species in the past few years.


There are few places like the Western Ghats, which is considered one of the ‘hottest’ biodiversity hotspots in the world. It has been estimated that around 5800 species of flowering plants are located here, of which 56 genera and 2100 species (which includes 650 trees) are categorised as endemic to this region. G. travancorica is one such tree which is so uniquely and narrowly endemic that the Shendurney Wildlife Sanctuary in Kerala is named after the vernacular name of the tree—chenkurinji. In 1984, the Shendurney Valley was proclaimed a Wildlife Sanctuary and became the only Sanctuary in the Kollam district to date. In its native habitat, a few other tree species commonly associated with G. travancorica are Cullenia exarillata, Mesua ferrea, and Palaquium ellipticum. Another notable feature is the tree’s association with understorey species from the genera Pandanus and Calamus. This undergrowth protects the seedlings from being grazed by foraging animals. Eventually, when a forest gap is created, those seedlings with greater survival ability will emerge from the undergrowth.


The extreme pruning of these lower canopy associates is more prominent in areas where there is tourist activity. The sholas (tropical montane grasslands) of Ponmudi, which are home to a few hundred chenkurinji trees, have a substantial tourist presence, which has resulted in the clearing of many spiny plants like Calamus. This clearing, in conjunction with trampling by visitors, has left the forest floor devoid of the ideal environment for the seeds to grow. The adjacent area of Brymore is also home to a small population of Gluta with nearly 50 individuals. But in this area, fireline burning often destroys fallen mature seeds. These are also common issues faced by most other native trees sharing a similar habitat.


The story of the ancestors of the genus Gluta dates back to 200 million years ago when the Gondwana land started splitting. Of the 35 or more Gluta species present in the world, most are spread across Southeast Asia, and only three are found in isolated land masses outside the Malayan Peninsula. The three deviants are G. tourtour in Madagascar, the highly threatened G.papuana in Papua New Guinea, and the near threatened G. travancorica in the Western Ghats of India. The common ancestor of G. tourtour and G. travancorica got separated when Madagascar and India split about 70 million years ago. The Indian subcontinent collided with Asia and has been moving northeast from Africa ever since. Buried within the character traits in their seeds lie untold stories and the long-forgotten origins of the species. G. tourtour is a species endemic to the coastal marshlands of Madagascar. After millions of years of geographic isolation and evolution the species has adapted to live in a mangrove ecosystem and also shows vivipary—the ability of seeds to germinate when still attached to the parent tree. Remnants of this unique feature of marshland Glutas can be seen in the montane species—G. travancorica. Among the thousan ds of seeds produced by chenkurinji trees, a few show vivipary, especially if these seeds are shed during the peak monsoon.

Gluta usitata is a common species of Gluta found in many parts of Southeast Asia. It is characterised by pinkish-white petals which are modified to form wings in mature fruits. This is a very efficient seed dispersal technique that was lost in G. travancorica and a few other species after the split of Gondwana land, when they became isolated and started evolving separately. Fossil wood resembling the modern day G. travancorica, and dating back to the Early Eocene period nearly 50 million years ago, was unearthed from a lignite mine in the Bharuch district of Gujarat. This shines some light on the present day Gluta travancorica, which diverged from a tropical wetland gene pool and must have been present throughout India at some point in history. As the Indian subcontinent moved away from the Equator, the central and northern regions of India, which once were home to dense tropical forests, gradually turned to arid scrub jungles and deserts. This northeast movement of the Indian plate at a rate of 5 cm/year is an ongoing process. Accompanied by the current level of global climate change and rising global temperature, there will be imminent changes in the tropical forests of the Western Ghats. Therefore, from a geological evolutionary point of view, the future of G. travancorica is uncertain.

Returning to the present, the poor rate at which new seedlings are establishing and growing into adult trees in the forests, coupled with the narrow distribution are issues that can further endanger G. travanacorica populations. Since trees take several decades to mature into an adult population from seeds, a lack of regeneration and establishment becomes alarming, despite having a sizable stable adult tree population in-situ. Other species of Gluta have seeds floating across oceans and flying over picturesque mountains only to fall on suitable substrate and eventually germinate. Evolution has left chenkurinji handicapped in both these respects. Yet, there’s hope because field studies of the population have revealed strong survival traits, such as regrowth of fire-destroyed tree stumps, new shoot emergence in dried-up seedlings, and seeds germinating after being buried in leaf litter on the forest floor for nearly a year. However, given the imminent threats of tourism, landslides, and the construction of roads, there is an immediate need for implementing action plans to extend its natural habitat. The best conservation plan for habitat-specific trees like G. travancorica, is to reintroduce seedlings in forest gaps in the same environment where they grow naturally.

Further Reading

Rao, R. R. and R. Raghavendra. 2012. Floristic diversity in Western Ghats: Documentation, conservation and bio prospection—A priority agenda for action. In: Sahyadri E_news Issue XXXVIII. Bangalore: ENVISECES, Indian Institute of Science.


Jose, P. A. and A. G. Pandurangan. 2013. Vivipary in Gluta travancorica: Its phytogeographic and evolutionary significance. Nelumbo (55): 89–93.

Namitha, L. H. and S. Suhara Beevy. 2020. Morphology and phytogeography of Gluta (L.) Ding Hou-A Review. Plant Archives 20(1): 2309–2319.
Namitha L H Author
Jisha Unnikrishnan Illustrator
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2022 Sep
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Trees—the auditees of nature

Contemporary science, with established evidence, suggests that Earth is undergoing a warming scenario (also popularly known as climate change). The narrative is that different ecoregions of our planet will witness an average rise in temperature ranging from 0.5°–2.5°C. A reasonable mind could question how we can predict this change with such accuracy? For a planet which is over four billion years old, we only have climate data for the last 100 years. Plants play a crucial role in recording environmental change because they are constantly responding to temperature, light, rainfall, frost, snow, etc. Flowering, fruiting and growth in plants are a direct response to climate conditions. What if plants were recording these changes and how could we then decipher them? There would be the answer to getting information about the climate beyond 100 years. 

During the course of my research in the Arctic I began to understand how plants record environmental change and in many cases how they actively drive the change. Over the last four decades, trees from temperate regions have been extensively used to reconstruct past climate, and tree rings have proven to be a reliable proxy to trace environmental changes. This science of using tree rings to decipher environmental changes is known dendrochronology / dendroecology. Tree growth is very sensitive to conducive as well as stressful environmental parameters. Tree rings have been used to reconstruct past eco-climatic factors, such as temperature, precipitation, snowfall, and humidity. Reconstruction of past environmental factors is crucial for predictive modelling and is only possible with the help of environmental proxies like ice cores, peat cores, pollen records, and tree rings. Moreover, trees also respond to landscape-level events, such as forest fires, landslides, and glacial melts. This sensitivity is translated to annual growth which is then rigorously modelled to reconstruct landscape-level changes. Fossilised trees have been especially instrumental in reconstructing environmental conditions for a timespan that can go upto to a few millennia. A major source of proxy data that the IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel for Climate Change) uses to predict future trajectories of climate warming is also based on models developed from dendrochronological data.

Traditionally, only tree rings were used as a growth proxy to model environmental data but contemporary research also uses various plant traits, such as crown area, leaf surface area, stem height, leaf nitrogen, and carbon matter content to trace environmental changes in the Arctic. In recent years, wood anatomy—a developing branch of dendrochronology—has made reconstructing the entomological past possible. Combined approaches of wood anatomy and dendro-climatology have made it possible to detect insect and pathogen outbreaks from the past. 

A key part of my research is focused on studying  the traits of Arctic shrubs, to understand their association with changing temperatures in the Arctic and subarctic regions. Over the last decade of research, we have been able to infer that plant traits not only closely respond to climate, but are also instrumental in deciding which species can be successful in rapidly changing environments. We also discovered that trees and shrubs are not as stationary as we believe they are. Plants do migrate—maybe not as fast as animals, but with the fast-changing eco-climatic conditions in the Arctic and alpine regions, we realised that there is, indeed, movement and migration in vegetation. Plants have pushed their distribution margins. For example, treelines 1 have shifted altitudinally to greater heights in many alpine regions of Europe and Scandinavia. Similarly, shrublines 2 have shifted to higher altitudes as well and have shifted latitudinally further north over the past six decades. How does this matter and what are the consequences of this migration? In the Arctic and the subarctic regions, where permafrost, snow and the ice sheets were the dominant features of the landscape, vegetation is slowly taking over. Snow-clad glaciers provide immense white surfaces which refract and reflect incoming solar radiation back to space. This keeps the Arctic and, subsequently, the other ecosystems in a certain radiation-based equilibrium by pushing the heat back out through the climatic channels. 

Due to increasing vegetation (via shifting shrublines and treelines), massive glaciers are now being decimated. Shrubs and shruboid tree-forms (for example, Juniperus communis) are the first to colonise the environment, causing the loosening of the permafrost. This increases the water availability and nutrient mobility in the environment, thus paving the way for trees to follow. This northward migration of shrubs and trees is causing the greening of the Arctic. White snow surfaces are being replaced with a green cover of herbs, shrubs, and trees. This greening entraps more solar radiation in the environment (as green and brown are darker surfaces than white), which further degrades permafrost over time. This positive feedback mechanism is causing the greening and subsequent warming of the Arctic. Degraded permafrost also releases methane and methane-hydrates, which cause forest fires—something which has  become evident in recent years. 

In summary, trees, which act as a carbon sink in the tropics, instead function as an instrument of warming in the Arctic. This helps us understand the significance of the environmental context. Sandwiched between the atmosphere and the lithosphere, the biosphere is a very fragile and volatile chutney that supports life. Plants as individuals, with their individual components (cells, branches, leaf covers, stems), and community as a whole, are critical for the survival of an ecosystem. Not only are they a bridge between the lithosphere and atmosphere, they also record enormous amounts of environmental information within themselves which we are only now beginning to decipher. 

 1 Treelines are altitudinal and latitudinal margins beyond which trees cannot grow.

 2 Shrublines are altitudinal and latitudinal margins beyond which shrubs cannot grow.

Further Reading

Shetti, R., M. Smiljanic, A. Buras and M. Wilmking. 2018. Climate sensitivity is affected by growth differentiation along the length of Juniperus communis L. shrub stems in the Ural Mountains. Dendrochronologia 49: 29–35. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.dendro.2018.02.006. 

Bjorkmann, A. D., I. H. Mayers-Smith, S. Elmendorf, S. Normand, H. Thomas, A. Alexander, A. AnadonRossell et al. 2018. Plant functional trait change across a warming tundra biome. Nature 562: 57–62.https://www.nature.com/articles/s41586-018-0563-7.  

Thomas, H. J. D., A. D. Bjorkman, I. H. Myers-Smith. et al. 2020. Global plant trait relationships extend to the climatic extremes of the tundra biome. Nature Communications 11:1351. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41467-020-15014-4.

Pellizzari, E., J. Camarero, E. Gazol Granda, R. Shetti, M. Wilmking, P. Moiseev, M. Pividori et al. 2017. Diverging shrub and tree growth from the Polar to the Mediterranean biomes across European continent.Global Change Biology 23(8): 3169–3180. https://doi.org/10.1111/gcb.13577.
Rohan shetti Author
Amalendu Kaushik Illustrator
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2022 Sep
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A Gibbon’s-Eye View 

With fingers gnarly, textured, furry 

Sturdier than human hand or foot 

He looks upon his day with eyes 

That take in the gaps in trees 

And vast expanses of treeless land 

Resting above the chatter of a village

Uncharacteristic in his natural history

Anachronistic in his dipterocarp-lacking world

Yet resilient in quiet anticipation 

For when seeds planted today 

Will eventually reach for the skies
Ishika Ramakrishna Author
Manini Bansal Illustrator

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The Ecology of Health

The complex interactions between humans, animals, and the environment have become more apparent in the past few decades. This is because of emerging infectious diseases, environmental hazards, ecological degradation, and climate change, all of which affect the collective health of our world. Rapid urbanisation and habitat fragmentation have increased our interactions with bats, non-human primates, and feral dogs, which in turn have impacted the health of local communities and led to the emergence and spread of diseases such as Nipah virus, Ebola, HIV, and rabies. The distribution and prevalence of vector-borne diseases such as dengue, malaria, and Lyme disease have been compounded by unchecked urban expansion, changes in land use and climate change.  A rapidly growing human population has led to the extensive industrialisation of agriculture and animal husbandry—increasing our exposure to hazardous contaminants (mercury, lead, DDT)—and the widespread use of antibiotics, which has led to increasing antimicrobial resistance in pathogens.

Therefore, to address the complex problems we face today in public health, we require a collective approach that spans across environmental, animal, and human sectors. An example of such an approach, which emphasises the need for transdisciplinary partnerships and multisectoral collaborations for optimal health outcomes, is ‘One Health’. Keeping the wider planetary health in mind, the ‘One Health’ approach can enable us to predict, mobilise, and mitigate challenges  such as antimicrobial resistance, food insecurity, pandemic unpreparedness, species extinction, and ecological degradation.

Elements in the artwork:

The purpose of the drawing is to visualise the interconnectedness between a healthy environment, humans, and other animals—all represented in a circle. Through the artwork, I highlight the major actors which have shaped my personal understanding of these interconnections:

  • Health professional: In order to express the theme of health, I deemed it necessary to include health professionals and their role in understanding, mitigating, and controlling emerging infectious diseases and other health issues.
  • Hooded Figure: Gender has important effects on the determinants and consequences of health, especially in developing and industrialised countries. Women are more vulnerable to diseases and epidemics due to gender norms, inaccessible and biased healthcare services, unprepared health systems, and power dynamics. Apart from women, children, immunocompromised individuals, BIPOC communities, and low-income individuals are also extremely vulnerable to, and impacted by infectious and non-infectious diseases, and environmental hazards.
  • Child and chicken: Modern agriculture, food production practices, and changing dietary patterns have increased the incidence of various types of infectious disease such as Salmonella, exposure to contaminants, and antimicrobial resistance in industrialised nations. Salmonella infections commonly occur in children, where risk factors include living in a rural area, contacts with pets, and consumption of  untreated local water.

While taking classes in Wildlife Disease Ecology and One Health during my undergraduate studies in Wildlife Biology at the University of Vermont, I was presented with various case studies that included many of the species I have incorporated in my artwork. In addition to this, my reason for choosing these species was because they are widely recognized in India, which is where I’m from:

  • Feral dogs: Feral dogs can threaten the health of wildlife, domesticated animals as well as people. Free-ranging feral dogs are reservoirs for many zoonotic diseases that can spread to other species, such as canine distemper virus, rabies, and brucellosis.
  • Leopards and big cats: Big cats are increasingly coming into contact with humans, domesticated animals, and feral dogs due to urbanisation, habitat loss, and tourism. These interactions may pose a risk to the conservation of big cats due to the potential spread of disease between species. However, positive impacts of wildlife such as vultures and big cats in controlling zoonotic transmission have also been recorded, such as a recent study that determined the role leopards play in controlling transmission of rabies between stray dogs in Mumbai and its citizens. 
  • Non-human primates (NHP): Many infectious diseases in humans have been linked to NHP. NHP have a variety of micro- and macro-parasites which increase the chances of cross-species transmission with humans (and vice-versa). This can cause new pandemics as well as threaten endangered populations of various NHP. In India, langurs and macaques are common NHP  who live in close proximity to humans, which results in important health implications for both. I drew a langur holding a plastic bottle to symbolise this very proximity.
  • Ticks and mosquitoes: According to the World Health Organisation, vector-borne diseases account for more than 17 percent of infectious diseases. Among the various vectors, arthropod vectors are the most common and responsible for infectious diseases, such as malaria, dengue, yellow fever, Zika virus, and Lyme disease. Moreover, vector-borne diseases are linked with the health of the environment. For example, climate change and rising temperatures are causing range shifts of various vectors such as ticks, which is leading to an increase in the prevalence of Lyme disease in habitats it was not seen in before.
  • Snakes and frogs: In many cases, changes to ecological health are not very obvious to people. However, sensitive groups such as amphibians are good indicators of ecological integrity. Additionally, increased contact with reptiles and amphibians increases zoonotic disease transmission associated with bacterial infections like Salmonella, Mycobacterium, E. coli, etc.
  • Bats: Recently, bats have been subjected to negative publicity because they are natural reservoirs for various high-profile zoonotic viruses such as paramyxoviruses, coronaviruses, Nipah and Hendra viruses. However, I believe this emphasises our need to understand and thus mitigate harmful interfaces between domestic animals, humans, and bats, which are crucial for maintaining ecosystem health—as they pollinate plants, disperse seeds, and control insect populations.
  • Hornbill: Ecosystem health and resilience are essential for maintaining populations of endangered wildlife, such as hornbills, which are severely threatened by habitat destruction, habitat loss, and hunting.
  • Trees, plants and fungi: These elements characterise the environment, on which both wildlife and people depend for the ecosystem services they provide.
Illustration by Soham Mehta, Ball-point pen ink on paper

Further reading:

Kahn, L. H. 2017. Perspective: The one-health way. Nature 543(7647): S47–S47.

Capos. C. 2021. One Health: preventing and solving public health disasters. University of Michigan School of Public Health Findings 37(1): 22–29.

Halliday, J. E., K. J. Allan, D. Ekwem, S. Cleaveland, R. R. Kazwala and J. A. Crump. 2015. Endemic zoonoses in the tropics: a public health problem hiding in plain sight. Veterinary Record 176(9): 220–225.
Soham Mehta Author
Soham Mehta Illustrator

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Kartington I am

This article is part of the Creation series. Click here to read the first and second ones.

Shoktel Kartington was excited. Today was the day. For many months he had been writing carefully considered pieces that appeared in the pages of important journals. But he did so only as an invented writer—a pathetic portmanteau, an aching amalgam of Kartik and Dan’s rather tired identities.

And all of that was about to change. Today was Shoktel’s creation day. He was to exist in bodily form. Shoktel was about to go to a conservation conference, and he had to appear in person. Shoktel had never appeared in person anywhere. He couldn’t. He didn’t really exist. But today, in order to attend the conference, he was going to be given a form, an appearance in which to appear.

Shoktel could feel the electricity in the air. This was a coming of age moment for many reasons. The conservation conference was exciting enough. People would fly to the venue from all over the world to fight climate change and applaud the heroes (and, wait for it, heroines) of conservation. And he would be amongst them. He would be speaking about the global re-afforestation programme, the half galaxy project, and his latest idea: compassionate forestry. There was even talk of a new national park providing vital habitat for all the world’s greatest conservationists. 

And this was more than just a major conservation event. At last he would learn what he really looked like. But would he, he wondered, live up to his expectations?

He sighed. And a slow thrill of excitement built within him. He had felt that sigh. He had lungs! He could feel his shoulders rising and falling. He could feel his legs. He took a tentative step and the shock of the floor through his feet jarred his soul with joy. Suddenly his nerves (he had nerves!) were tingling. He could feel clothes on his back. His toes wriggled in fresh new socks. He strode around the room with excitement. He needed a mirror. Now!

Already Shoktel was rehearsing the pleasure and dignity he would feel on seeing himself for the first time. He knew how significant he was. He was a senior man attending a major conservation gathering. You don’t get much more important than that. And now he was going to look the part.

Glancing down he could see that he was wearing smart suit trousers and shiny patent leather shoes. Good. That was a start. The corporate look was vital these days. But his shirt was all wrong. It was rather vivid and appeared to have some sort of vegetation printed on it. Worse than that, it was far too short. He could see his belly button. Doubtless his authors had made a typo somewhere.

Tentatively he reached up to feel his face. And a deep sense of satisfaction filled him. His nose was most dignified, and he had a full head of lustrous hair. It was modestly cut, but thick and glossy. No surprise his authors wanted that for him. He reached up and pulled a strand out. But that was strange. You can’t go to a conference with pink hair. He inspected it again. No, it was not pink, but orange. And then pink again. What was going on?

A movement caught his eye, his shirt was changing as he watched. The green floral designed shimmered into starch white. Cuff-links winked on his wrists. And then it was green again, his belly button was back in view and—Good Lord! Was that a navel piercing?

Shoktel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Creation was always stressful. It would be much easier if one could evolve slowly over millions of years. But he was a magazine feature with publishing deadlines to meet. There was no way that the profit margins of the publishers could tolerate evolution.

When he opened them, peeking cautiously through rather thick eyelashes, some sort of normality seemed to have been restored. His shirt was crisp and ironed, and a very sensible shade of light blue. It masked his well-proportioned paunch. Being important means eating well after all. 

He checked his face again, stroking his chin. Bristles scratched his fingertips. Goodness but this is a manly chin. It’s got one of those dimple things in it. In fact—Shoktel gripped his jaw again—it’s more than manly. It’s enormous! What are they doing?

Panic-stricken, Shoktel seized his face, trying vainly to push his preponderant jawbone back into his head. It felt huge in his hands. His knuckles clenched white in fear. Finely manicured fingernails, painted lilac and olive green, pressed into his cheeks.

Manicures? Nail varnish? No!!

Shoktel tried to peer around his jawbone to inspect his hands. Somehow, they seemed far away. And then he saw the preposterousness of it all. His jaw was not large. Instead his hands were ridiculously tiny. And effeminate. Very effeminate.

At this point Shoktel got quite cross. How dare they do this to him! Who did his authors think they were? He was Shoktel Kartington—arbiter of conservation truth since at least 2018. He couldn’t turn up at a conservation conference looking like this. Masculinity in conservation conferences is a carefully performed affair requiring LOTS of testosterone. Indeed, in some conferences, the ‘real men’, so rumour has it, are so macho that they wear khaki shorts and no underpants.

He kicked the wall in frustration at the injustice of it all. And stubbed his toe—badly. His patent leather shoes had been replaced by open-toed sandals. Suddenly he realised that a physical presence was full of disadvantages. And these problems were compounded when his creators were apparently arguing about what he actually looked like.

Shoktel watched with sad resignation as unseen forces pummelled his body into ever more ludicrous shapes and combinations. His hair grew long, then golden. Thick sideburns sprouted from his cheeks, that quickly dissolved into a downy wisp over a maiden’s blush. He acquired a limp, a stoop, knocked knees and then a rather well-formed pair of dancers’ legs. He found himself wearing a t-shirt and then a kaftan that bulged over a quite magnificent beer belly. His trousers shimmered into khaki shorts (ew—the rumour about the underpants was true!), and scruffy brogues morphed into large walking boots and thick, woolly socks.

Shoktel began to feel sick. The transformations were dizzying, and the combinations they produced stupefying. If this carried on he would have to become a social scientist and write about ‘identity’. But that would be ridiculous. He knew who he was. Everyone did. And identity has nothing to do with real conservation.  

And then, finally, the maelstrom of change began to subside. He felt his body and clothing begin to settle. Even better, he found he had been placed in the conference hotel room. It had a mirror. Now he was finally going to meet himself: the consummate conservation professional, the researcher extraordinaire. He just hoped that his reflection would be sufficiently aware of its privilege.

He waddled across the room to the mirror. His thighs were suddenly wobbly. He felt tired, bloated and rather bulbous. Phlegm clogged his throat. And before he saw it he had a sudden premonition that he would hate this image of himself.

Sure enough, standing in the glass before him was a worn-out old businessman who had spent far too many decades propping up bars and eating function food. His trousers were tired and travel-stained. His socks sagged, unwashed for days. His underpants were back, but their sweaty wrinkles were rubbing sores into his buttocks. His tummy rumbled and flatulent slips betrayed a fake vegan diet. He was balding, his breath smelt, his skin was flaking. When he shrugged his shoulders, the dandruff drifted in tiny dunes. Cautiously he checked his midriff. No jewelled piercing, but thick secretions of tummy button fluff had layered in the folds of his abdomen.

Shoktel felt sick. How could his authors even know that this sort of thing existed? How diseased were their imaginations? The being standing before him could barely save itself, let alone the planet.

He choked back tears of frustration and clenched a flaccid jaw. His jowls slopped in anger. They would not win. He would have his revenge. He must have his revenge! If ever he got to that conference he would not present his brilliant thinking, his masterful mosaics of fact and inspiration. He would bore his audience with interminable social science waffle, and pathetic claims about class, wealth, constructed truths, and multi-species jargonizations. If he was going to be the face of anything, then, with this face, he was going to represent everything that was wrong with conservation.

Far, far away, in a distant office on a parallel dimension, Dan and Kartik smiled tentatively. They surveyed the detritus of their morning’s work before them. On one half of the table a mess of papers and notes was strewn in a dishevelled pile. On the other, books and source materials were stacked neatly, arranged by size and colour. 

“You know,” said Kartik laughing, “I think we have him figured out. I thought it was really funny when you gave him navel fluff.”

“Wait,” Dan replied with furrowed brows, “I thought you did that!”

“Nope. That last paragraph was all you. If I may point this out, I didn’t know what navel fluff was until you wrote it.”

Dan shook his head. They looked at each other in puzzlement. Was Shoktel shapeshifting all by himself? Had they created some form of Artificial Idiocy? 

Then they both said simultaneously: “The illustrator shall fix this!”
Kartik Shanker Author
Dan Brockington Author
Saket Ghaisas Illustrator
Kartel Shockington Author

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