Trophy Hunting Could Cause Extinction in Stressed Populations

The trouble is, almost all animal populations today are facing increasing stress from changing environments.

By Rob Knell, Queen Mary University of London

People are now the most important predators for many animal populations on the planet, but people are rather different from “ordinary” predators. While a lion or an eagle is just trying to get dinner, human predators can be motivated by other aspects of an animal than simply how much meat it can provide.

Trophy hunters obsessively target animals with the largest horns, antlers or manes. Poachers focus on elephants with the largest tusks – and there is a subset of insect collectors who will pay premium prices for stag or rhinoceros beetle specimens with really huge horns or mandibles.

All of these focus their predation on what biologists call “sexually selected” traits. These evolve because they give the (usually male) animal that carries the trait an advantage in competition for mates, either by allowing him to dominate and exclude rival males – think of red deer stags – or because females of his species actively prefer to mate with males with large, loud or bright sexually selected traits, as in the case of birds of paradise.

How these sexually selected traits evolve is a question that has been a difficult issue for biologists for some years: why should females prefer males with a long tail or with especially bright colors – and what is it about stags with large antlers that allows them to win contests and dominate groups of females?

An increasing body of evidence now supports the idea that the expression of these traits is linked in some way to the genetic “quality” of a male. Males who have lost the genetic lottery and who are carrying more than their share of genes that are detrimental to health do not have the resources to grow a big tail or a large set of antlers. Conversely, those lucky males who happen to have a particularly good set of genes can afford the handicap of carrying around a super-sized rack of antlers or set of horns, or will be able to grow extra long and brightly colored feathery plumes.

Selective harvest

This is useful for our understanding of animal behavior, but it also has wider implications for the evolution of these species. Researchers have recently found that strongly sexually selected species can evolve faster in response to environmental challenges than species where mating is more random.

Because males with higher genetic quality gain the majority of matings in these species, their “good genes” can spread through a population much faster than they would if mating were random. This means that strong sexual selection can allow a population to adapt faster to a changing environment, and in some scenarios these species can avoid extinction when the environment changes because of this fast evolutionary response.

In our newly-published research, we asked the question of how this might change when those highest-quality males are removed by “selective harvest”. It’s prohibitively difficult to test these ideas with real hunted populations, so we developed a computer simulation which allowed us to examine what happens when you take these animals out of a population.

Our results are clear – and worrying. If the environment is relatively stable, then even quite severe harvesting of high-quality males is sustainable. But if the population is already stressed by a changing environment, then removing even a small percentage of the best males can lead to extinction. The trouble is, almost all animal populations today are facing increasing stress from changing environments.

This goes against the conventional wisdom. Since there is usually little paternal care of offspring in these animals – and because it seems reasonable to assume that females will not have problems getting fertilized if we remove, say, 15% of the males – it is usually assumed that trophy hunting and similar selective harvests are unlikely to drive animals to extinction when only a small proportion of males are hunted. Our results suggest otherwise.

Better management would make a difference

Should we, therefore, ban trophy hunting and insect collecting? The argument about trophy hunting in particular goes on – but we do not think that our research adds great weight to either position. So far, it is only based on a computer model – clearly we need some tests of our results based on real data.

What we might consider, however, is changing management practices. We examined how different management altered the outcome of our model, and again we found a clear result. If a minimum age limit is applied to hunted animals, so that only old animals who have already had a chance to mate and spread their genes are removed, then the increased extinction risk that we found goes away.

If a population must be hunted, then restricting hunting to older males only and managing the population sensibly by adjusting quotas when there are signs of stress should ensure that any risk of extinction is minimized.

Rob Knell, Reader in Evolutionary Ecology, Queen Mary University of London

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

Chimpanzees, Ecotourism, Climate Change and Wildlife Law: New Eco-Books for December

This month brings us several great new books for the dedicated environmentalists on your holiday shopping list.

The holiday season is upon us — a time for family, celebration, reflection and mass overconsumption.

If you’re going to participate in holiday consumerism this year, why not do the right thing and give (or ask for) the greenest gifts of all: new environmentally themed books.

Here are our picks for the best new eco-books coming out during the month of December, including some pretty challenging titles on climate change, chimpanzees and conservation law, among other topics. As usual, we’ve tried to pick titles for environmentally conscious adults, kids and professionals. Check ‘em out:

Following Fifi: My Adventures Among Wild Chimpanzees, Lessons From Our Closest Relatives by John Crocker

This is a pretty amazing story: Crocker started his student life studying chimpanzees with Jane Goodall in the famous Gombe forest before eventually becoming a doctor. The chimpanzees — including a mother named Fifi — stayed in his mind, and he applied the lessons he learned in the forest to helping people with anxiety, depression and attention deficit disorder. Goodall herself calls this “a truly extraordinary book.” (Pegasus Books, Dec. 5, $27.95)

Tales of an Ecotourist: What Travel to Wild Places Can Teach Us About Climate Change by Mike Gunter Jr.

Ecotourism destinations are supposed to benefit the environment, but can places like the Great Barrier Reef and the Galápagos Islands also teach us more about the reality of climate change? Gunter crisscrossed the globe to find out in this insightful, scientific and often funny travelogue. (SUNY Press, Dec. 1, $29.95)

The Global Warming Express by Marina Weber and Joanna Whysner

Here’s one for the kids on your list. Join Fluff the penguin and other animals affected by the warming world as they hop on board a magical train (powered by positive thinking, not coal!) to learn about pollution, oil spills and global warming. Sounds like fun. (Terra Nova Books, Dec. 1, $14.95)

When the Caribou Do Not Come: Indigenous Knowledge and Adaptive Management in the Western Arctic, edited by Brenda L. Parlee and Ken Caine

You may have heard that caribou populations are on the decline in the Arctic. What’s happening there? This book presents stories, essays and the latest community-based research from the Inuvialuit, Gwich’in and Sahtu peoples, showcasing the importance of indigenous knowledge in understanding how climate change and other factors are affecting Arctic ecosystems. (University of Washington Press, Dec. 11, $75.00)

Rough Cut: Lessons From Endangered Species by Rick Wood

Wood, a marine wildlife filmmaker, takes his lessons from behind the lens and presents them on the page, addressing what he’s learned about the threats facing sea turtles, killer whales, otters and other oceanic critters. (Homeostasis Press, Dec. 9, $20.95)

The Laws Protecting Animals and Ecosystems by Paul A. Rees

Here’s one for the budding conservationist. The publisher calls this the first basic textbook about wildlife law for anyone studying or working in wildlife conservation or animal welfare. This in-depth volume covers the major wildlife laws around the world and the types of protective measures that exist for various ecosystems, as well as tough topics such as who owns wildlife, the identification of captive-bred animals, and problems with human-animal conflict. (Wiley, Dec. 4, $120)

That’s it for this month’s list. For more ideas, check out our past book columns — see the links below — and share what you’re reading in the comments.

Revelator Reads: 6 Thrilling New Environmental Books for November

Revelator Reads: Great New Environmental Books for Fall

Revelator Reads: 8 New Environmental Books for September

Revelator Reads: 7 New Environmental Books for August

Revelator Reads: 7 New Environmental Books for July

An Unlikely Partnership Yields Political Climate Progress

How an elementary-school science teacher helped a Utah Republican congresswoman start to take leadership on climate change.

I first met Tom Moyer in the spring of 2015. We were in Salt Lake City, Utah, at a conference hosted by Citizens’ Climate Lobby, an advocacy organization working to generate the political will for action on global warming. Moyer pulled me aside in the hallway during a break, telling me, “I’m a fifth-grade science teacher at a progressive elementary school, and I’m the Citizens’ Climate Lobby’s contact for our brand-new black, Mormon, Republican congresswoman, Mia Love.” He stood there with a big beaming smile, confident I’d want to hear his story.

Salt Lake was my last stop before returning home to Los Angeles. I’d been traveling the country interviewing activists for a book I’m writing about unlikely climate heroes, ordinary people who step forward and stick out their necks to try to slow climate change — people like the man standing in front of me.

As a scientist, Moyer told me, he was no stranger to the how and why of climate change, but as a citizen he knew very little about the political process. Citizens’ Climate Lobby helped change that. In the months before we met, Moyer trained to speak about the issues, step forward as a leader and — despite the prevailing winds of the country — how to talk graciously to people who didn’t share his politics.

So how does a progressive, white, non-Mormon male develop a good working relationship with his black, Republican, Mormon female member of Congress whose previous record of support for environmental issues has been less than stellar?

He told me: By building trust, by being respectful, and by letting go of assumptions.

Citizens’ Climate Lobby developed this model in part by using the work of the Yale Program on Climate Communication to train volunteers. Their research found that effective climate communication begins by knowing who you are talking to, what their world-view is and what they value. People want to be appreciated, listened to and acknowledged. People want to be understood. It’s all easy to say, but harder to live by.

Despite the fact that Moyer and Rep. Love appeared to have little in common, the teacher felt optimistic and ready to jump in. He took his first steps, just before I met him, by introducing himself to the congresswoman’s chief of staff, Mike Squires.

“We began an email correspondence,” he says. “Right from the get-go, he was open, friendly and receptive.”

Not all relationships with congressional staff get off to such a good start. Balancing many twirling plates, staff members are often distracted and overwhelmed. And if the issue’s a hot-button one, they may not even respond to requests for a meeting.

Fortunately that was not the case with Squires. That summer Moyer and his wife Laura were in D.C. for a family vacation and scheduled an in-person meeting with the chief of staff.

Two years later Moyer’s still practically giddy when he recalls the hour-long meeting. “It was really fantastic,” he says, animated. “We felt comfortable with each other. We learned that Squires had been Rep. Love’s campaign manager, that he was a graduate of BYU and considers himself to be an environmental Republican.” Moyer was particularly excited to hear Squires say of his boss that there was a chance she would make climate change one of her priorities.

Moyer and Squires’ connection wasn’t just good luck.

“Meetings between Republican members of Congress and environmental activists can sometimes be fraught with skepticism,” Rich Piatt, the congresswoman’s communications director, told me during a recent email exchange. “Both sides [Moyer and Squires] were able to have an open, honest dialogue about relevant issues. They talked about their shared love of Utah’s beautiful landscape, the outdoors, air quality and environmental degradation.”

Squires continued to be an ally, making useful suggestions to Moyer about how to engage the congresswoman on the issue of climate change. He started by providing a list of names of few Utah State Assembly members and members of Congress. “Contact these folks and ask them to talk with Congresswoman Love about why she should pay attention to climate change,” he said. “These are all people she respects and holds in high regard.”

As Squires predicted, the congresswoman was receptive. Moyer told me that after listening to her allies, being briefed by a climate scientist, and later after hosting a town hall, Congresswoman Love started to re-evaluate her stance on climate change.

The big turning point came in December 2016 when she joined the bipartisan Climate Solutions Caucus. The caucus, founded in February 2015 by Ted Deutch (D-Fla.) and Carlos Curbelo (R-Fla.), is an anomaly in today’s Congress. Against the backdrop of so much congressional ill will, this group of 30 Republicans and 30 Democrats addresses and takes action on climate solutions.

The congresswoman, coming from a heavily Republican district, reportedly took a risk in joining the caucus. A few months later she took another, writing an op-ed that appeared in the Salt Lake Tribune that contradicted a prevailing Republican notion that climate solutions are incompatible with a thriving economy. These risks paid off: According to Moyer, Love continues to enjoy good support in her district.

In recognition of her actions, Love received a Climate Leadership Award at the Citizens’ Climate Lobby annual conference this past June. I watched her walk up to the podium and speak to a packed and attentive hall. “We can be a lot more productive when we get two parties in a room together to talk about the things that they’re for, rather than just what they’re against,” she said. “We all share a responsibility to be good environmental stewards, and working together we can find solutions that both protect our climate and promote a thriving economy.”

More recently, as I watched a live streaming of the Climate Solutions Caucus, the Congresswoman spoke out with conviction, “I’m going to try to get as many people on this caucus as possible.”

Moyer and Love both publicly stated that when they first met three years ago, they never would have predicted the congresswoman would emerge as a climate change leader. Their working relationship is a testament to the power of listening, a willingness to look beyond labels and to find solutions — a model worth replicating.

The opinions expressed above are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of The Revelator, the Center for Biological Diversity, or their employees.

For more on Rep. Love and climate change, see this clip from the documentary series Years of Living Dangerously:

Extinct Icons: Art to Memorialize Vanished Species

A powerful new art exhibit is just one event for this year’s Remembrance Day for Lost Species.

How do we mark out grief for the loss of the world’s now-extinct species? For British artist Katie Tume, who works under the name Mother Eagle, the answer comes in the form of thread, beads, precious metals and gemstones. Her embroidered artworks commemorating the Tasmanian tiger, Barbary lion, dodo and other vanished wildlife are now on display at the ONCA art gallery in Brighton, England, as part of a worldwide series of events called Remembrance Day for Lost Species, held on November 30 each year.

Tume says the idea for the “Extinct Icons” in this exhibit came from seeing photos of reliquaries honoring Catholic martyrs and saints. “The idea of martyrs, persecuted in their lifetime for their beliefs or actions but now revered and regaled in death, made me think how we treat animals, specifically extinct ones,” she says.

She calls the animals she chose to depict “the poster children of the extinct hall of fame,” noting they frequently turn up in “top-ten”-style lists of extinct species. “In reading the stories of these endings, and ‘endlings,’ it became apparent to me how so many of these species’ demise were wrapped up in colonization, European exploitation, and extractive capitalism,” she says. “So much of this felt so familiar because the behaviors are still very real, present and very destructive. So, like those martyrs, persecuted in their lifetimes, I am interested in completing that cycle and illuminating them as saints.”

Persephone Pearl, founder of Remembrance Day for Lost Species and ONCA co-director, told me last year that the annual event helps people to understand that “learning to grieve is part of the process of healing our broken culture.”

This year’s Remembrance Day for Lost Species events include a dance competition in Madrid, Spain; a benefit concert with songs about endangered species in Chicago; a ceremony to recognize lost pollinators in Sacramento, California; and a workshop for children at the Redpath Natural History Museum in Montreal, Canada. A complete list of events, many of which run into early December, can be found here.

Extinct Icons by Katie Tume

From Tropical Islands to Polar Bears: Half a Degree in Warming Makes a Difference

For small island nations threatened by rising seas, swelling waters are a daily reminder of the need to act on climate.

The recent climate conference in Bonn, Germany, shined a light on one of the most certain and serious impacts we expect from unabated climate change: sea-level rise. Melting ice sheets on Greenland and Antarctica are releasing water into the sea — water that has been held on land for millennia. At the same time, warmer water is taking up more room because of “thermal expansion.” This means that sea levels will continue to rise as long as temperatures increase.

For small island nations threatened by rising seas, the swelling waters lapping at their shores are a daily reminder of the need to act on climate.

At the Paris climate conference in 2015, these nations were in no small part responsible for setting the goal to limit global warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius above preindustrial times. The latest scientific studies on sea-level rise confirm that for these nations there is truly a world of difference between a 1.5 degree and 2 degree average temperature increase. Nations like Fiji or Kiribati lie so close to present sea level that they are projected to be underwater if the global mean temperature increases by 2 degrees. If we keep temperature rise below 1.5 degrees, however, projections keep these nations and their people above water — saving the worlds they know, at least for the next several hundred years.

Such threshold behavior is a special problem of climate change, one not well understood in public and policy circles. To most people a half-degree difference in mean temperature rise may seem trivial. But even as average temperatures rise smoothly, they can cause leaps in biological and geophysical responses.

And tropical island nations are not alone in their vulnerability. Two recent studies have shown that Arctic summer sea-ice extent, the habitat and hunting ground for polar bears, is also highly sensitive to small changes in the global temperature. Dr. Alexandra Jahn of the University of Colorado at Boulder demonstrated that by the end of this century the probability of an ice-free summer in the Arctic Ocean is about 33 percent if we stabilize global temperature at around 2 degrees Celsius (see figure below). This means that roughly every third year there could be essentially no summer sea ice in the Arctic. Imagine that your local grocery store closed for half a year every third year and you had no way to store food purchased during the other two years — clearly polar bears and other animals that depend on sea ice would struggle to survive in such a scenario.

probability of ice-free September — Probability that September Arctic sea ice extent drops below 1 million km2 (referred to as “ice-free”) as projected by the Community Earth System Model, a state-of-the-art climate model, under two scenarios reaching 1.5 and 2 degrees Celcius global mean warming, respectively, in the second half of the 21st century. See Sanderson et al. (2017) for more details.

In contrast, the analysis also showed that, if global temperature increase can be halted at 1.5 degrees instead of 2 degrees Celsius, the probability of an ice-free Arctic summer drops to less than 3 percent (again, see the figure above). That sounds more manageable. The analysis by Dr. Jahn was published in a comprehensive paper, led by Dr. Benjamin Sanderson, documenting various climate-change impacts and how they differ between a 1.5 degree and 2 degree warmer world. An independent study lead by Dr. James Screen from the University of Exeter in the UK arrived at almost identical numbers.

Years ago Dr. Wallace Broecker at Columbia University warned the world there would be surprises in the greenhouse effect. Sea-level rise and Arctic sea-ice sensitivity to temperature differences as small as 0.5 degrees — and the differences that sensitivity can make to people and animals — are prime examples of such surprises. Numerous other surprises, some already known, many unknown, await if we continue to warm the world, emphasizing the importance of achieving the goals agreed to in Paris.

Extinct in the Wild But Still Flying: The Guam Kingfisher

The last 150 birds of this critically endangered species rely on humans for their survival.

I rounded a corner and there it was: one of the world’s last 150 Guam kingfishers (Todiramphus cinnamominus). The bright orange, blue and white bird sat by itself on a branch in an enclosure at Pittsburgh’s National Aviary, watching visitors as they passed by. It didn’t seem to blink an eye as I stood there for several minutes, starting at this tiny, beautiful and vitally important bird.

I knew that I was incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to see this rare species. Once native to the island after which it’s named, the Guam kingfisher all but disappeared during the decades after World War II, when invasive brown tree snakes (Boiga irregularis) arrived and ate their way through the native fauna. By the 1970s most of Guam’s unique bird species had gone extinct.

The island’s kingfishers held on for a few more years, until 1988, the last year they were seen in the wild.

Luckily, just before that fateful day, conservationists managed to capture a total of 29 birds and bring them into captivity for protection. The kingfishers were transported to a number of U.S. zoos, where they became the core of a breeding program that has managed to save the species from extinction.

Today 11 of those birds, including two breeding pairs, live at the National Aviary, one of more than two dozen U.S. zoos and one government facility on Guam that are participating in the kingfisher’s Species Survival Program. The aviary had 13 of the birds until earlier this month, when two young offspring were sent to zoos in Denver and St. Louis to help boost their own breeding programs.

The breeding pairs have done remarkably well in less-than-tropical Pittsburgh since they arrived just two nesting seasons ago. “We produced four offspring our first year and five our second year,” says Kurt Hundgen, the National Aviary’s director of animal collections, speaking to me by phone a few weeks after my visit. “That’s pretty good considering we’ve only had them for roughly three years.”

That success was a bit slow in coming, though. At first, one of the breeding pairs was on display, in the same enclosure where I had seen a female kingfisher during my visit. “They didn’t do much for the first eight months,” Hundgen says. “They do okay when they’re in public view, but they’re very secretive birds.”

After that the aviary moved the breeding pairs off display into specially constructed behind-the-scenes enclosures. There the facility could more closely mimic the temperature, humidity, vegetation, daylight cycles and even sounds of the kingfishers’ native habitat, while also giving them much-need privacy in specially constructed, hollowed-out tree logs and nest cavities.

“That’s when they kicked in,” Hundgen says. The birds took to their new habitats and quickly started mating and laying eggs.

Guam kingfisher — Courtesy National Aviary

The recent breeding success at the aviary is just part of an important turnaround for the kingfisher’s population, which barely grew during their first two decades in captivity. “For the longest time, the kingfisher population just maintained itself at around 50 to 60 birds,” Hundgen says. That lasted until about 2005, when the participants in the kingfisher working group got together to develop new and more consistent husbandry techniques. “It really has made the difference and that’s where we’ve seen the increase in the captive population.”

One element that has dramatically helped was the decision to carefully hand-rear some kingfisher chicks. Females normally lay a two-egg clutch, but only one of them typically survives. “There has never been a pair in captivity in human care yet that has successfully raised two chicks,” Hundgen says. “So the recommendation became, when you do get two fertile eggs, you let the pair rear one egg and you pull the other one and hand-rear it.”

That’s a pretty intense process. “There are great lengths that go into the details of feeding that chick and caring for it,” says Dr. Pilar Fish, the aviary’s director of veterinary medicine. “It needs to have the perfect temperature, humidity which changes over time, the right amount of food, the right type of food, and the right feeding schedule. It requires such intensive care and allowing their natural activity.”

Guam kingfisher chick — Courtesy National Aviary

That’s where another aspect of the special enclosures comes in: the hollow logs in which the birds nest are fitted with hidden cameras. They parent birds feel safe and secure in their private logs, but aviary staff can observe exactly how they behave with their chicks and learn to mimic the same behaviors with the hand-reared chicks.

In addition to all of that, the tiny birds undergo extensive health checks. “We do regular neonatal care on each one of these chicks to make sure that make sure that as they are growing — they grow up so quickly — they’re reaching each developmental milestone and staying as healthy as possible,” says Fish. “There’s a whole team of people caring for them and assuring their health and development.”

Through all of this work, the veterinary team feels the significance of their actions. “Each one of these chicks is so important to its species,” she says.

Sometimes that team actually means rushing to save a chick’s life. “These chicks are so fragile,” Fish says. “They’re just so tiny and they’re naked and every parameter is important.” Because most of the chicks live in the enclosures with their parents, “natural things” happen, like the risk of chicks falling out of their nest.

“In the wild, they would succumb to the elements,” she says. “We have the ability to examine them, treat them, and put them back in the nest.”

“Treat them” might be a bit of an understatement. “One little chick — I remember this vividly — fell out of the nest,” Fish recalls. “I did my veterinary exam and the chick had ruptured its respiratory system. Birds have lungs and air sacs. The chick actually inflated like a balloon and it was having labored breathing. We had to use a tiny needle that is actually used in pediatric medicine human pediatric medicine and prep the area and deflated it and then had to repeat that procedure and give it breathing treatments. We used a human nebulizer, like an asthmatic would need, and we gave it oral medicines, tiny little dilutions of medicine. At this point the check only weighed half an ounce! But within two days it fully recovered from the trauma and within just a week it was completely normal.”

Still, it was a stressful process — both for the bird and its human caretakers. “It’s nerve-wracking to be handling this bird knowing that its species is extinct in the wild and that that little chick is so important,” Fish says. “We’ve been very fortunate that these chicks have recovered, and I tell you what, it’s just a real privilege to be able to be involved in this program. I love working with all birds, but when you know that a bird is gone in the wild and that these birds are the future, then working on them it is really a significant honor.”

Hundgen echoes that sentiment. “I’ve been on Guam on several occasions,” he says. “When you go in the woods, there are no birds anymore. For me, that makes this pretty special to be involved with this species. It’s fulfilling. That’s why we’re here.”

With populations growing at the National Aviary and so many other zoos, will the Guam kingfisher ever again live in the wild? In truth, Guam itself may never host the species — not unless the brown tree snake is completely and permanently eradicated there — but other nearby islands could one day serve as adequate release sites and replacement habitats, especially if the captive population keeps growing. That’s beginning to look more and more likely. “I think you’re going to see the day when the kingfisher will be introduced,” Hundgen says. “Without a doubt.”

Previously in The Revelator:

Whooping Cranes Could Be Wiped Out by Climate Change

Guam’s Forests Are Being Killed – By A Snake

Guam’s birds have been killed by invasive snakes. Now trees struggle to spread their seeds.

By Elizabeth Wandrag, University of Canberra and Haldre Rogers, Iowa State University

Can a snake bring down a forest? If we’re talking about the Pacific island of Guam, the answer may well be yes.

Our research adds to mounting evidence that the killing of many of the island’s bird species by an invasive species of snake is having severe knock-on effects for Guam’s trees, which rely on the birds to spread their seeds.

Invasive predators are known to wreak havoc on native animal populations, but our study shows how the knock-on effects can be bad news for native forests too.

Globally, invasive predators have been implicated in the extinction of 142 bird, mammal and reptile species, with a further 596 species classed as vulnerable, endangered or critically endangered. But the indirect effects of these extinctions on entire ecosystems such as forests are much harder to study.

The brown tree snake was accidentally introduced to Guam in the mid-1940s and rapidly spread across the island. At the same time, bird populations on Guam mysteriously began to decline. For years, no one knew why.

In 1987 the US ecologist Julie Savidge provided conclusive evidence that the two were linked: the brown tree snake was eating the island’s birds. Today, 10 of Guam’s 12 original forest bird species have been lost. The remaining two are considered functionally extinct.

The brown tree snake has caused a cascade of problems. Isaac Chellman, Author provided

But the ecological damage doesn’t stop there. The loss of native bird species has triggered some unexpected changes in Guam’s forests. Both the establishment of new trees and the diversity of those trees is falling. These changes show how an invasive predator can indirectly yet significantly alter an entire ecosystem.

Birds and trees

Birds are very important to trees. In the tropics, up to 90 percent of tree species rely on animals, often birds, to spread their seeds. Birds eat fruit from the trees and then defecate the undigested seeds far away from the parent tree’s canopy, where there are fewer predators and pathogens that specialise on that species, where competition for light, water and nutrients is less intense, and where seeds can take advantage of promising new real estate when old trees die.

Without birds, roughly 95 percent of seeds of two common tree species on Guam (Psychotria mariana and Premna serratifolia) land directly beneath their parent tree. Compare that with the nearby islands of Saipan, Tinian and Rota – none of which have brown tree snakes – where less than 40 percent of seeds land near their parent tree. On Saipan, seeds that escape their parent tree are five times more likely to survive.

Close neighbours, but very different situations. Author provided

What’s more, passing through the gut of an animal can actually increase the likelihood that a seed will germinate. On Guam, seeds that had been eaten by birds were two to four times more likely to germinate than those that hadn’t.

Overall, for the roughly 70 percent of tree species on Guam that rely on birds to spread their seeds, research suggests that the bird deaths caused by the brown tree snake have reduced the establishment of new tree seedlings by 61-92 percent, depending on the species.

Forests’ future threatened

These numbers suggest that many tree species in Guam are under serious threat, which in turn threatens the species diversity of the island’s forests.

Our new research, published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, examined the number of seedling species growing in treefall gaps on Guam compared with Saipan and Rota, which still have their birds.

Treefall gaps appear when an adult tree dies, opening up the canopy and increasing the light that reaches the forest floor. Many species rely on this increased light for germination and early growth, so these gaps are hotspots for new seedlings.

Birds such as the Mariana fruit dove are a big help to the islands’ trees. Lainie Berry, Author provided

We found that Saipan and Rota had roughly double the number of species of seedlings growing in these gaps, compared with Guam. What’s more, seedling species on Guam tended to be clumped together, as you might expect if more than 90% of seeds are falling beneath their parent trees.

We also found that birds are important in moving the seeds of certain types of species to gaps. In forests, “pioneer species” are those that rapidly colonise gaps, exploiting the increased light to grow fast and reproduce young. Crucially, we found pioneer species in all gaps on islands with birds, but in very few gaps on Guam, where these species could be at risk of being lost entirely.

Invasive predators are a reality for many ecosystems, particularly on islands, and the situation on Guam is particularly extreme. Perhaps nowhere else in the world has experienced such dramatic losses of native fauna as a result of invasion.

While these direct impacts of invasion are astounding, the indirect impacts cascading through the ecosystem are just starting to unfold, and may prove to be similarly catastrophic.

Elizabeth Wandrag, Postdoctoral Fellow, Ecology, University of Canberra and Haldre Rogers, Assistant Professor, Iowa State University

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

Rehabilitating Injured Wildlife Taught Me to Look at Both Life and Death

It also revealed to me the devastating impact humans are having on the world around us.

It’s Saturday night, and instead of going out into town with friends, I’m sitting in my apartment examining a sick red-tailed hawk. Holding him upright against my body, one hand clasped around his ankles, I unfurl and look closely at each drooping wing, study his glazed eyes with a bright penlight, test his reflexes in his tired feet, look down his gaping beak and feel his protruding keel. I’m looking for signs of illness or injury — broken bones, gunshot wounds, poisoning, entanglement — mostly, harms caused by human behavior.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had an uncanny finesse understanding and interacting with nonhuman animals. No one taught me how. Looking back it seems it stemmed from curiosity, my desire to know what was going on inside their minds.

As a five-year-old, I’d imagine what it was like to be an animal by acting like one: lapping up water from my glass like a cat or pecking up food off my plate like a bird. I only assumed “animal mode” when I thought no one was looking.

One day I was caught at a swimming lesson literally doing the doggy paddle, fists balled up like paws. Others didn’t think this was as normal as I did. “Erica’s a strong swimmer, but she’d be a lot faster if she opened up her hands,” I overheard an instructor tell my mother. I realized it was probably not acceptable — at least by other people’s standards — to act like an animal, so I stopped. But I continued to think about what it was like to be one.

If I couldn’t be an animal, I decided, I’d work with them. At age seven I started walking dogs. At 15 I was accepted as an animal-care volunteer, and soon after I was hired as a clinic assistant at a wildlife hospital. I worked there for six years.

My job at the clinic was wildlife rehabilitator, a person who cares for sick, injured and orphaned wild animals so they can be released back into the wild. In the beginning I prepared meals: rodents stuffed with vitamins for the raptors and assemblages of fruits, veggies, proteins and mushy dog food for the opossums. I’d also clean cages, mop floors and haul out trash.

Over time, as I devoted more hours to clinical work and applied for my New York State wildlife rehabilitator license, my responsibilities grew. I learned from more experienced colleagues how to dose medications, give first aid to opossums, splint baby bird legs, treat bumblefoot in gulls, syringe-feed baby mammals and take the clinic’s non-releasable hawks for “walks” outside on a falconer’s glove. What started as a summer job morphed into a weekend gig during the school year and later became a full-time job during college.

In my years of reading my wild patients’ charts, there was one thing that’s stood out to me: The fact that most of them were admitted as a result of direct or indirect human activity. Hawks poisoned. Opossums trapped. Turtles crushed by cars. Songbirds that crashed into windows. Baby birds unnecessarily picked up by people. Squirrels orphaned after trees were cut down and nests destroyed. Many animals died, sometimes in my arms or hands as I tried to provide aid. I quickly learned to accept death as a side effect of life — though each individual animal lost stung me.

I learned to recognize every animal beyond its value as part of a species population. Each animal is its own intelligent being. I saw it in my pets at home just as much as I saw it in the clinic. At work, one resident crow would immediately squawk when he saw me, even if I was in a crowd of people. I’d notice how baby squirrel siblings would be quick to nuzzle up with their kin in a crate full of orphans from various squirrel families (I’d keep track of each by dotting their tails with colored magic markers).

It’s not just me thinking this way: scientists have proven individuality and intelligence in crows and squirrels, and have found signs of “higher” — meaning human-like — thinking in plenty of other species. Killer whales have culture and extensive kin groups, and chimpanzees engage in social learning. Scientists say animals are rational thinkers. Yet humans continue exploit, dominate and sometimes exterminate nonhumans.

One day all the death in my workplace caught up with me. It became clear it would be impossible to save each individual animal through rehabilitation alone because humans were in many cases unaware of how their actions were harming wild animals.

So I decided to change course and focus on prevention. I became a science writer. Maybe, I thought, writing about wildlife issues would give people the information they needed to appreciate animals and make informed decisions about their possibly harmful behavior. Maybe this kind of work could avert wildlife from danger. Maybe fewer wild animals would end up dead.

I did not leave wildlife rehabilitation because I think it’s futile. In fact, I think such work is necessary today, since humans have so intensely and irrevocably changed Earth’s ecology. We’ve wiped entire species off the map, destroyed forests and wetlands, built up cities and introduced species to new habitats where they’ve wreaked havoc. The scale of human impact on wildlife is huge: Scientists estimate somewhere between 365 and 988 million birds are killed in building collisions, and outdoor cats kept by humans kill as many as 3.7 billion birds and 20.7 billion small animals annually in the United States. That’s on top of car collisions, poisonings, habitat destruction and other human activities.

Wildlife rehabilitation is certainly not a cost-effective way to help every animal in need. Based on my experiences, out of pocket, it can cost a rehabber anywhere from $50 to hundreds of dollars to save the life of one animal. And it must be acknowledged that, in nature, there are situations where some live and others die, such as when a mother bird gives most of her time and attention tending to her strongest babies and allows the weakest to die. But humans have upset the balance so much that helping those animals in need — no matter what the cause of their illness or injury — may be the right thing to do.

And so while now my focus is prevention, all the while I’ve kept my wildlife rehabilitator’s license. People in my home state of New York call me when they find animals in need of help. Over the years I’ve raised a few baby squirrels and rabbits, rescued trapped owls and carried giant snapping turtles out of the road. Most recently, it was the sick red-tailed hawk. A woman had called me asking for help with the lethargic bird, which was sitting in her driveway. I agreed to come right over.

I pulled up to the woman’s home, got out of my car and slipped a pair of mismatched gardening gloves on my hands, then grasped both a dog crate and towel. The woman and her young daughter ran out of their front door to greet me. They looked relieved.

My eyes quickly found the distressed red-tailed hawk sitting beneath some shrubs. After a short exchange with the woman and her daughter, I slowly approached the bird. He defensively leaned back — talons out, strike-ready. But when I grabbed his ankles with my hands it became apparent he had no strength to pose much danger.

His body was light and flaccid, emaciated and paralyzed. His mouth hung ajar, I thought from stress, until I realized his tongue was sticking out at an askew angle. Something in his brain was causing his body to malfunction — maybe a poison or a virus or a cancer. I looked in his deep brown eyes and decided he had some fight left. I decided to try and save him.

“Thank you so much! You’re a hero!” said the woman as I tucked the crate — hawk inside — into my car and waved goodbye.

According to wildlife rehabilitation experts, encouraging the public to call a wildlife rehabilitator for help when they find a sick, orphaned or injured wild animal — while sometimes harrowing — actually helps connect them to nature in a deep way. “Humans respond with compassion to the immediate and individual, where they may feel overwhelmed by the larger issue and unable to affect change,” says Kai Williams, executive director of the International Wildlife Rehabilitation Council. “These experiences change people, change the way they see wildlife.”

Later that night in my apartment I sat on the edge of my couch with the hawk cradled in my arms, plucking enormous hippoboscid “flat flies” out of his feathers, I thought about what the woman had said about me, and what I really feel are my motivations to rehabilitate wildlife. I don’t think of myself as a hero. Maybe, I thought, I rehabilitate wild animals because I feel like it is just to right humanity’s wrongs. Or maybe I do it to make myself feel a tiny bit better about the things I regret doing — driving a car, flying in planes, eating meat on occasion — that I know harm nonhumans.

A post shared by Erica Cirino (@4feathers1fern) on Oct 28, 2017 at 2:21pm PDT

I was able to stabilize the hawk overnight and the next day transferred him to a federally licensed clinic, as mandated under my state license. Unfortunately I learned a few days later that the hawk had passed away, despite the clinic’s best efforts.

Maybe rehabbing is my small way of showing that I recognize the lives of all living beings as valuable: human, hawk or otherwise. And I hope that my efforts help others realize why each nonhuman life is worth saving.

Wasted Water: The Crappiest Places in America — Literally

America’s waters are contaminated by poop and bacteria. Use our maps to find the worst waste locations near you.

It’s in the water. In our favorite beaches, swimming holes and — somehow — even in wild creeks and streams in the middle of nowhere.

Poop, that is.

America’s waters are infested with feces. We know this because state and federal agencies routinely test surface water across the country looking at various factors of quality, including E. coli bacteria levels, an indirect measure of fecal contamination. E. coli live exclusively in human and animal intestines, so the only reason for them to be present in the environment is…they were pooped there. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention estimates that several hundred thousand human cases of E. coli infection occur in the United States every year.

As disgusting as this is, the news is actually worse in some cases. Since E. coli is an indicator of untreated sewage, it can be a sign of everything else that comes with it — hazardous chemicals, pharmaceuticals, heavy metals, antibiotics and pesticides, among other things. This single bacterium tells a larger story of an environmental issue that affects humans and whole ecosystems.

Dive in (metaphorically only, please) to these waste-filled waters as we explore the most egregious poop contaminations recorded across the country (and possibly near you).*

*Scroll to the bottom of the article if you’re interested in reading about our methods for processing and ranking E. coli data, as well as the limitations to the accuracy of the nationwide picture that emerged.

The top 10 percent most contaminated locations in America:

If your state didn’t show up on the map and you’re wondering what the situation is closer to you, take a look at:

The 10 most contaminated locations in each state:

Whose poop?

One thing you might be wondering at this point is — whose poop is it? If you’ve explored the maps above for a few minutes, you’ll have noticed that a lot of these places aren’t exactly in highly populated areas.

Location, location, location.

To try to understand what’s really going on, let’s get down to the street level at the 10 most contaminated sites in the country.

No clear solutions.

Here’s the rub — there’s no reasonable explanation for all this contamination. Treated urban sewage and farm manure contain low levels of E. coli. Waste from livestock farms sprayed as manure on fields is meant to stay there and fertilize fields — not flow into waterways. Some of the contamination comes from wildlife, but that’s only one small piece of the puzzle. There’s no reason E. coli should be present in our waters at these levels if there are proper systems in place to deal with the excrement of 320 million Americans and the farm animals that outnumber us — which means current systems are failing somewhere along the line.

While the country’s ecosystems are silently being flooded with poop, the situation is on track to get even worse. Earlier this year a congressional bill was introduced to further weaken regulations on dairy manure. Meanwhile climate change is increasing the frequency of critical sewage flooding events with every hurricane that hits the country.

This is not a problem that can easily be flushed away, and solving it will require communities to address the need not just for safer fecal management, but for larger sustainable choices that reduce the magnitude of the problem if they want to keep their citizens safe — and clean.

Disclaimer: This is not an absolute ranking of the most contaminated sites in America. There are many limitations to available data. Many known catastrophic manure spills and sanitation failures — such as hurricane flooding in North Carolina — do not show up in these maps, and some states just do not monitor their waters as closely as others.

Methods:

Data source:
Water-quality data downloaded from The Water Quality Portal, a cooperative service sponsored by the U.S. Geological Survey, Environmental Protection Agency and National Water Quality Monitoring Council. It serves data collected by more than 400 state, federal, tribal and local agencies.

Land cover and urban areas geospatial data provided by USGS.

Data parameters:
Quality characteristic: Escherichia coli. Other fecal organisms are sometimes evaluated by agencies, but E. coli testing has the widest and most uniform geographic coverage.

Quality measure: Number of E. coli as reported in Colony Forming Units (CFU), Most Probable Number (MPN), or number (#). Suitable data were collated under these three most widely used measures, and the top 10 percent of each of the three categories were collected separately to obtain the top 10 percent results overall.

Time period: All test results in five years — from October 2012 to October 2017. The same monitoring stations are sampled annually, but sampling occurs at different and sometimes arbitrary times of the year. To account for seasonal changes, unusual events, and other sources of stochasticity, five years of data were pooled and the highest result for each monitoring station was retained.

Limitations: Monitoring stations varied widely across states, with some states having more than 5,000 sampling sites, and others having as few as 500. However, existing monitoring stations across all states appeared to be well distributed across watersheds. Alaska, Hawaii, Illinois, and Rhode Island had the poorest monitoring coverage of all states.

What Is Pesticide Drift — and Why Is It So Dangerous?

Drift of the pesticide dicamba has been linked to crop damage in 25 states this year.

Drift kills.

Earlier this month the Environmental Protection Agency announced that the pesticide dicamba — a weed killer sprayed on genetically modified, pesticide-resistant soybean and cotton crops — had drifted away from application sites and caused damage to more than 3.6 million acres of soybean crops in 25 states.

It was the latest blow against the use of dicamba, which was recently banned in Arkansas and Missouri after complaints from hundreds of farmers. The pesticide, which is manufactured by Monsanto, BASF and other companies, has also been linked to increased rates of cancer in humans exposed to it, as well as risks to wildlife.

Most of the problems with dicamba, experts say, can be linked to a phenomenon known as “pesticide drift,” which is actually two different processes by which a pesticide can travel beyond the application site into other agricultural locations, or even onto nearby residences, schools or other facilities.

One of these types of drift is fairly simple to explain: A pesticide is applied in sprayed liquid form and is then picked up by the wind. “That’s when droplets get blown off target,” says Emily Marquez, staff scientist with Pesticide Action Network North America. “It could be due to applicator error or it could be due to weather.”

The other type of drift — the one most commonly talked about — occurs when a pesticide volatilizes, or turns into a gaseous state. “When it volatilizes, it just travels in the air and then weather can bring it some distance away,” Marquez says.

Volatilization is a natural phenomenon and quite common in other substances. “A good analogy I’ve used is an onion,” Marquez says. “If you cut it, the vapor in the air makes your eyes sting. You can smell it, but you can’t see it. It is the chemical evaporating into the air and going from liquid to vapor.”

What makes dicamba stand out when compared to other pesticides — or onions — is its propensity for volatilization, which has been well known for years. The chemical has a high vapor pressure, meaning it’s more likely to evaporate and rise into the atmosphere. “Even if a pesticide doesn’t have the high vapor pressure, it could still exist in the air to some extent, but not like a fumigant where you have this very high volatility and you see it rising off a field immediately after you apply it,” Marquez says. Recent research has found that dicamba damage was observed 220 feet away from application sites. The EPA requires just 110 feet of buffer between application sites and other vegetation.

Of course, none of this is completely unique to dicamba. “All pesticides can drift,” Marquez says. “Some are more prone to it than others.” Meanwhile, pesticides can also travel via run-off, erosion, equipment contamination and other processes. “All pesticides go somewhere,” she adds.

Monsanto has claimed that its current formulation of dicamba contains additives that make it less prone to volatilization, but how much less prone it is to volatilization —or whether it really is less prone —remains in question. “There can be things you add to reduce volatility,” Marquez says, “but we already knew dicamba was volatile, so I don’t know if it’s possible to add something to reduce volatility when we knew it was damaging crops many years ago.”

In response to this year’s dicamba drift problems, the EPA last month announced an agreement with three manufacturers to put new requirements into place for the pesticide’s use in 2018, including limiting application to days with maximum wind speeds below 10 miles per hour.

Marquez says she thinks that’s about as far as the federal government will go with this pesticide under the current administration. “I think individual states are probably the ones having to do any further restrictions of dicamba.” She adds, though, that further actions could be possible “if enough farmers speak up or just don’t buy it.”

Previously in The Revelator:

Why Does It Take So Long to Phase Out Bee-killing Neonic Pesticides?