Time to Let This Conservation Jargon Go Extinct?

Bad communication can slow or hinder efforts to protect wild species and spaces. We can fix that.

As a conservation journalist, I read a lot of scientific papers, reports and press releases looking for story ideas. And even after doing this for nearly 20 years, many of those documents leave me scratching my head.

It’s not the conservation aspects that confuse me. It’s the jargon — the overly specific language members of a profession use to communicate among themselves that often makes little or no sense to the public (or even well-versed reporters).

Jargon has value, sure. There’s nothing like shorthand for efficiency when you’re talking to your peers. But use that same terminology outside the hallowed halls of your field and you’ll likely be greeted with blank stares — and potentially, resistance to your work.

As I told a group of young ecologists recently, jargon is the kiss of death for effective communication.

So let’s flip the script and kill some jargon. Here are several examples of words and phrases I’ve encountered in recent science communication efforts that do more harm than good.

All Acronyms — The scientific community has an annoying habit of condensing every phrase it can into an ALL-CAPS abbreviation. I call it TMA Syndrome — “too many acronyms” — and I’m not the only critic. A recent study identified thousands of little-used acronyms that, the authors found, only serve to minimize the public understanding of science. It would be fine if these acronyms entered common usage, like USA or TL;DR, but they’re all far from normal parlance. The researchers showed, in fact, that about 79% of acronyms they found across 24 million papers were used fewer than 10 times each. Oh, FFS.

Data Deficient — Is a species endangered? If scientists don’t have the answer to that question, they slap it into this vague category, and that can lead to dangerous false assumptions that a species is doing just fine. Scientist Chris Parsons has suggested we declare “data deficient” species assumed endangered until better information becomes available (and as a way to encourage collecting that information). If that dilutes the power and importance of the word “endangered,” maybe we go with a simple action phrase: research needed.

Developing Nations — This is one of a string of phrases used not just in conservation but in virtually all levels of discourse that value (or devalue) a country based on its wealth and on normative notions of linear progress toward a Western, industrialized ideal, ignoring colonialism, exploitation, white supremacy and saviorism. The journal BMJ Global Health recently catalogued these troubling terms and the damage they cause, while offering some more acceptable alternatives.

Ecosystem Services or Natural Capital — These terms sound like they were invented by someone with a degree from Harvard Business or Trump University. Try this: Nature keeps us alive. There. Fixed it.

Ex Situ and In Situ — Why are we throwing Latin around? These words describe conservation efforts that are either off-site or on-site. Just say so!

Exotic Species — Again, this is colonialist language for plants and animals that humans have moved to new habitats. Calling them “invasive,” “alien” or “non-native” isn’t any better. Indigenous scientist and author Jessica Hernandez uses the word displaced, which has a powerful resonance that instills some respect on these wild species no matter where they live, even if they are harmful to other wildlife.

Extirpated — As serious as this word is, no one understands what it means. Replace it by saying that a species has gone locally extinct or been wiped out of a region.

Fisheries — Technically, this term refers to oceanic or freshwater sites where the fishing industry operates, or where people depend on fish for their food, but that definition has spread like an oil spill to pollute other meanings. Every week I seen biologists use “fisheries” to describe any place where fish live, which unintentionally redefines those locations as worthy of exploitation rather than, you know, the home of those living creatures. Fish habitats will do just fine.

Game — This word, which I see in journals all the time, really means “animals we like to hunt.” That’s not conservation, and “game” animals aren’t the same as a rousing round of Parcheesi. This misnomer needs to be exorcised from scientific papers. More broadly, it should also be removed from the names of state wildlife agencies, where it positions them to serve hunters and fishermen — the very small subset of people who hunt, shoot, trap, or otherwise catch wild animals — rather than the animals themselves.

Habitat Loss — Did the habitat misplace its car keys? “Loss” is too passive a word — species don’t lose something; people take it from them. It also potentially implies that habitat can be found once again, when in many cases it’s gone or changed forever. Let’s get more descriptive: We’re talking about habitat degradation and habitat destruction.

Natural Gas — Technically, so-called natural gas contains about 90% methane, which most people recognize as harmful. That’s why some climate activists have recently rebranded this fossil fuel methane gas, so it doesn’t appear quite so (ahem) natural. (Climate and conservation jargon frequently intersect, and climate jargon also slows public acceptance and action, which is all the more reason to use decisive, clear language across the board.)

New World and Old World — Biologists typically use these words to describe groups of similar species from different halves of the planet — for example, “Old World monkeys” from Asia and Africa, and “New World monkeys” from the Americas. That demarcation is fine, as it represents different evolutionary tracks, but the terminology derives from a colonialist, Western-oriented mindset. What’s wrong with using geographic descriptors for these species, such as “South American” or “African”?

Pest — This pejorative term is like “weed” — it’s in the eye of the beholder, and it doesn’t belong in scientific analysis. Animals didn’t ask to have your precious crops placed in front of them or to become vectors of disease. Even a mosquito has value (just ask a frog). When we describe species as annoyances, it becomes too easy to eliminate them instead of seeking to restore the ecological balance that kept them “in control” in the first place. I don’t have a replacement for this word, but we need to stop using it as though it’s value-neutral.

Poacher and Poaching — I’ve gotten into the racist, colonialist roots of these words before. Don’t make me repeat myself.

These examples barely scratch the jargonistic surface. I could spend another few paragraphs on overly scientific phrases like “interspecific differences,” “phenotypic plasticity,” “thermal breadth” and “zones of recombination,” all of which I recently encountered.

But they’re a good starting point — an invitation for refining the ways we speak, write and think so we have a better chance of communicating with broader audiences. After all, the more people who understand your message, the further your meanings will travel into hearts and minds. And that can mean all the difference to the species you’re trying to protect.

Do you have jargon you’d add to the list? Drop us a line about your language pet peeves — or your solutions for better communication.

Previously in The Revelator:

Let’s Rename the Day After Thanksgiving ‘Extinction Friday’

City Surprise: Urban Areas Are Brimming With Biodiversity

We don’t always recognize the wild plants and animals living in our concrete jungles. But when we go looking for them, we realize how much there is to protect.

Last summer I took advantage of my break from teaching by enjoying long, daily walks around my neighborhood. I indulged my mind and body in the blueness, stillness, and leafiness that is North Carolina in June and July. It’s truly astounding how many leaves a willow oak can cram into one tiny piece of sky.

On my walks, the yard of one house stuck out. It was unlike any yard I’ve seen around my city or in any of the other cities in the United States, Canada, and Australia where I’ve lived. It is a forest yard. Nearly a dozen large trees are interspersed amid a dense stand of saplings and shrubs. That summer, leaf litter covered the ground. The top of the house was only visible if I craned my neck to see down the paved driveway, itself narrowing and crumbling as roots, lichens, and fungi worked their inexorable magic.

Depending on your perspective, the house with the forest yard could be seen either as an eyesore — and the scariest place to trick-or-treat — or, as in my case, the most splendid place imaginable.

Nature at Your Door: Connecting with the Wild and Green in the Urban and Suburban Landscape

At this point, I should probably mention that I’m an urban ecologist and that the forest yard makes my heart flutter at the possibility and hope of nature in cities.

I looked at aerial images for the area, and they revealed that the trees around that home, which haven’t been actively “managed,” are about 50 years old. Over that time the forest yard has accumulated a bewildering array of species and ecological interactions. Its tulip poplars, walnuts, cedars, redbuds, pines, and willow oaks have soaked up the atmosphere’s carbon dioxide and turned it into much-needed habitat for wildlife: butterflies, bees, and other insects; lizards, snakes, and turtles; frogs and toads; birds; and mammals. It’s home to a multitude of soil invertebrates and fungi that keep the business side of an ecosystem — aka decomposition — going. All the species that share this shady third-of-an-acre lot are intertwined in a complex tangle of relationships that keeps them fed and feeding on one another, interdependent to varying degrees for their life and livelihood.

And all of this exists amidst a matrix of roads, single-family and multiplex housing, commercial plazas, light industry, and high rises that make up a medium-sized city in the Southeast. The forest yard is a little island of nature in a nearly lifeless sea of concrete, asphalt and lawn.

But, to my inexhaustible surprise, that sea of concrete, asphalt, and lawn is not as empty as we tend to assume. Very far from it. Places of dense human habitation are also where many species reside, including some that are threatened. A recent analysis of the birds and plants that occur in 147 cities across the globe revealed that the sampled cities were home to 2,041 bird species — about one-fifth of Earth’s total avian diversity — and 14,240 plant species. These include 36 bird and 65 plant species threatened with global extinction.

To get a better idea of just how much of the urban biodiversity iceberg lies below the surface of our awareness, consider this: Last year participants in the City Nature Challenge made nearly 1.9 million observations in 480 cities, with the residents of the La Paz metropolitan area in Bolivia recording the high score of 5,320 species.

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Add to this the estimate that we share our homes and yards with an average of 9,000 species of fungi and bacteria and you’ll begin to suspect, as I do, that cities are in fact incredibly biodiverse. And it’s not just the all-too-rare forest yard: Scientific evidence shows that the more people you find in a place, the more types of birds, mammals, and plants you’ll find there too.

So why don’t we see it that way? Why do we perceive our urban centers as unworthy and undeserving of our conservation efforts and attention?

One of the reasons we assume that cities are biological deserts, wholly manufactured for our needs and ignoring those of others, is that we don’t seek out — and therefore are not aware of — the other species that live amongst us. We spend 21 of every 24 hours indoors. When we do go outside, we disqualify the pockets of green and blue and brown in our urban and suburban surroundings as examples of real nature. They’re just yards and heavily managed parks; how natural could they be?

But, more and more, I and others who love nature where they live are finding a sparkling array of species right under our noses. I usually don’t have to search under too many rocks in the most urban of streams – the kind with the ominous algae, silt-covered rocks, and overall sludgy appearance that makes me wash my hands as soon as I get home — before I find a slim and sleek two-lined salamander.

And now that I’ve identified the native yellow passionflower vine that pushes up from the ground in my garden each spring, I see it everywhere: intertwined with otherwise immaculate hedges, along roadsides, and in the shady edges of parks. That’s good news for the passionflower bee who relies exclusively on the small, delicate, satellite-dish flowers for pollen.

And last spring, when I checked my neighborhood’s new stormwater pond for amphibian activity, I was surprised to find green and gray treefrogs trilling their little tails off in a water-filled grassy depression in the active construction site next door.

Last but not least, I’ve got to give a shout-out to Mecklenburg County Nature Preserves and Natural Resources staff, who have identified 899 species of moth (and counting) where I live. That’s nearly one moth species per 1,200 county residents in one of the top 25 metropolitan areas in the country.

Our typical lack of awareness of urban wildlife is why the forest yard is so striking. It’s shocking to see nature so readily thrive in a space nominally dedicated to people, almost as if it were trespassing. The forest yard confronts us with what we perceive as uncontrolled growth, unseen animals, fungi, and bacteria creeping and crawling as they feed, reproduce, and die all on their own without intervention from us. The forest yard represents the unknown exactly where it should not be, in the dictated and ordered landscapes that are our cities.

But, as with all unknowns, the forest yard’s power to disconcert and disturb dissolves the more we get to know it — and smaller spaces like it.

Put that to the test. Many of you reading this already have the iNaturalist app downloaded onto your phones to use whenever you’re hiking or in the field — you know, in real nature. But sometime soon, give it a try closer to home. Take a wander around your yard, your street, or your local park or greenway – somewhere familiar. As you go, use the app to take pictures of the fungi, plants and animals you come across and let iNaturalist tell you what species they are. No matter how urban your neighborhood is, I guarantee you that your perception of it will change — from a wasteland to a world filled with tawny emperors, modest masked bees, indigo buntings, magpie inkcaps, marbled salamanders, hedgehog slugs, labyrinth orbweavers, bearded beggarticks, and much, much more.

As you meet these new neighbors, you’ll start noticing even more: sun beetles crossing the sidewalk in front of you, cedar waxwings in the treetops, and native wildflowers in the median at a stoplight. Eventually you’ll realize you don’t need to go to the nearest state park or wildlife preserve to experience nature; you’ll begin to seek out your newfound neighbors by taking more walks, exploring your park with your kids, or I as recently did, watching chimney swifts congregate at dusk. And once those things start to happen more and more, you’ll see more and more opportunities to enhance and protect the wild plants and animals that share your suburban or urban home.

That’s just the neighborly thing to do.

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Previously in The Revelator:

Urban ‘Microrewilding’ Projects Provide a Lifeline for Nature

The Race to Save the Dragon’s Blood Tree

On Yemen’s Socotra island, residents battle poverty, conflict and climate change to help save its prized tree.

Editor’s note: This story originally appeared on Ensia. It’s part of a collaboration between Ensia and Egab exploring environmental efforts by communities facing potentially more urgent concerns such as war and poverty.

On a recent trek through Yemen’s Socotra island, local resident Issa al-Rumaili stops to point out a spot in the distance: “In front of us are the ruins of a vast forest of dragon blood trees,” he says.

To see it requires some imagination. On an otherwise deserted hill stood three lonely trees, with their distinct umbrella-like canopies.

Dragon’s blood, or Dam al-Akhawain (two brothers’ blood), as it’s locally known, is endemic to Socotra, a mostly desert archipelago south of the Arabian Peninsula, whose isolation from Yemen’s mainland has largely spared it the destruction of the country’s nine-year civil war and preserved its distinctive nature.

But international and government funding for Socotra’s environmental protection authority has dried up, and financial support previously offered to native efforts to save the tree has dwindled, says the authority’s director Salem Hawash.

This funding reduction isn’t completely due to the ongoing conflict, according to a 2021 report from the Conflict and Environment Observatory, a charity based in the UK. “The problems pre-date the current conflict,” the report reads. “By 2012, the IUCN reported that the Socotra EPA’s annual budget was just US$5,000.”

That said, the report goes on: “It appears inevitable that the intensifying pressures that the islands are facing as they are dragged into the conflict will continue to place their unique natural and social heritage at risk.” Meanwhile, the authority’s building was converted by Saudi military forces into a temporary headquarters, according to Socotra residents — a reflection of the war’s impact on the island, and the further sidelining of its biodiversity.

These hurdles, along with those brought about by a changing climate, contribute to the uncertain future for the dragon’s blood tree. “I’m afraid this may be the last generation of this amazing tree,” says Hawash. In the face of this uncertainty, many of the island’s residents are working to protect the tree and make sure it does indeed have a future on the island.

A Priceless Lifeline

The Socotra archipelago, one of the most biologically diverse places on Earth, was classified a UNESCO Natural World Heritage site in 2008, but is now facing ecological devastation as a result of climate change and human activity. Populations of the dragon’s blood tree — which is at the heart of the island’s unique flora and fauna and part of Socotra’s identity that sets its people apart from the rest of Yemen and the region — are in frightening decline.

The effects of climate change, including increasing frequency, duration, and intensity of cyclonic storms, and overgrazing and harvesting of the tree’s deep-red resin, which is popular for medicinal purposes, cut the tree’s density by 44% in the 20th century. And while it is estimated that the tree only covers 5% of its potential habitat, scientists expect drier conditions to slash it by another 45% by 2080.

Dirt road passes through dozens of green umbrella shaped trees — Dragon’s blood trees on Socotra Island, Yemen. Photo: Rod Waddington (CC BY-SA 2.0 DEED)

“The loss of one dragon blood tree means the loss of tourists, of water, of medication, and — what is worse — the loss of the Soqotri identity,” says Kay Van Damme, a conservation biologist who has been involved in Socotra conservation since 1999.

In response to these challenges, a local community on secluded Socotra Island at the periphery of a country that was the poorest nation in the Middle East and North Africa long before it became “the world’s worst humanitarian crisis,” is trying to keep the coveted tree from going extinct. Currently it is listed as a vulnerable species on the IUCN Red List.

While a power struggle continues in Yemen between parties involved in the ongoing conflict, flights linking Abu Dhabi and Socotra still bring in adventurous visitors keen to enjoy the island’s magical landscape and its unique tree.

In an archipelago where most of the people live below the poverty line and job opportunities are rare, ecotourism is a priceless lifeline. Tourists visiting the archipelago increased from less than 200 in 2001 to more than 3,700 in 2010. While the island did see a decline in visitors after 2010 due to political unrest and security concerns, last year, roughly 5,000 tourists visited Socotra, tourism ministry officials say.

“Tourists from all around the world come to our remote villages to spend days among these trees,” says al-Rumaili. “If we lose this, what will become of us?”

Biodiversity Linchpin

Efforts to save the dragon’s blood tree began 27 years ago when Adeeb Abdullah, who is now in his 80s, started a plant nursery in the backyard of his home near Hadibu, a small coastal town on Socotra. Serving as a haven for seedlings to grow without being grazed or harvested, the nursery was the first community initiative to preserve endemic and endangered plants on the archipelago.

Since then, a handful of other initiatives have sprung up to protect the dragon’s blood tree. One has managed to grow as many as 600 saplings over the past 20 years.

Van Damme says there are currently more than 80,000 dragon’s blood trees, which can live for hundreds of years. But they’re mostly very old, while younger ones rarely survive.

According to researchers, the dragon blood tree’s canopy shades and provides water to other rare plants that grow around it, capturing moisture equivalent to more than 40% of the island’s annual precipitation. The tree is therefore pivotal to the biodiversity of Socotra, where 37% of the plants and 90% of the reptiles are endemic.

Where the Trees Belong

Abdullah’s nursery now attracts visitors from all over the world. “They come to the nursery for these rare plants, especially dragon blood seedlings, taking pictures for research or memories,” Abdullah says. “This way, the tour guide, the car driver, the hotel owner and I benefit. The unique biodiversity and amazing scenery attract tourists. But if this disappears, no one will come to us.”

Returns from tourism help Socotra’s inhabitants afford essential services often unavailable on the island. While regional players involved in the war construct schools and medical units and provide electricity as part of development plans in which they compete for control over the strategic island, utilities on Socotra remain scarce. For instance, Abdullah’s wife and children still need to make daily trips to distant wells to fetch drinking water, as well as gather firewood to be able to cook.

Ahmed Fathi, a local photographer, says Socotra’s inhabitants still need to travel outside the island for medical treatment, employment and studying. “This is two or three days at sea, or a weekly flight that is too pricey for most.” The island is still “marginalized and isolated,” he says.

The dragon’s blood tree and the biodiversity it fosters are widely seen by many in Socotra as their link to the world beyond through tourism and general international interest.

The decline in government funding makes local initiatives like Abdullah’s even more critical.

Despite his efforts to save the dragon blood trees, Abdullah remains anxious about the future. He worries his children won’t be able to move the trees to the mountainous habitat outside the nursery’s confines.

“We are waiting for support to help us move the seedlings to the mountains,” says Abdullah, a step that necessitates transportation and equipment he says they don’t have. But that’s where they belong, he says.

Previously in The Revelator:

Blood Is Life — The Amazing Dragon’s Blood Tree

Bioplastics Are Not the Solution

To solve plastic pollution, we need nontoxic, reusable materials — not more single-use disposable products.

Acts like plastic, but made of plants? As the plastic pollution crisis grows in scale and urgency, consumer product and packaging companies are increasingly relying on so-called “bioplastics” to replace conventional fossil-fuel plastics. These bioplastics are made from many different types of ingredients, and it can be hard to keep up with all the developments. But we ignore them at our peril.

The most popular type of bioplastic made today is PLA, or polylactic acid, made from corn or sugarcane.

Performing similarly to conventional plastics, PLA is commonly marketed as a compostable, plant-based material well suited for single-use products like cups, cutlery, and takeout containers. In the hospitality industry, where the use of single-use products is prevalent, the shift toward bioplastics is seen as a step toward sustainability. Yet this “green” alternative is not as environmentally friendly or healthy as it seems.

A new report from our organization, Plastic Pollution Coalition, and the environmental research group Eunomia takes a closer look at the production and disposal processes for PLA and reveals that these sustainability claims are often overstated and run the risk of contributing to greenwashing. In reality PLA is harmful to people and the planet in ways similar to conventional fossil-fuel plastics.

Bioplastics like PLA are developed from feedstocks that often use intensive agricultural practices, which contribute to ecological problems like deforestation, water pollution, soil degradation, loss of biodiversity, and displacement of Indigenous peoples and foods. While bioplastics only make up 1% of global plastics, they require about 800,000 hectares of arable land (nearly 2 million acres) to produce the feedstock necessary for their development. If bioplastics like PLA fully replaced plastic in packaging, their development would require 61 million hectares (235,000 square miles) of arable land, roughly equivalent to the landmass of Texas.

Being synthetic, bioplastics are produced and manufactured in industrial, typically fossil-fueled facilities that pollute air, soils, and waters and warm the climate. Industrial facilities are disproportionately built in communities that are predominantly poor, rural, Black, Indigenous, and of color. Residents of these fenceline communities face elevated health risks from chemical emissions, explosions, and fires. Like fossil fuel plastics, PLA is made and formed into small, round pellets for melting and molding into products, which easily spill into surrounding environments and communities, with serious effects on local plants and wildlife.

PLA and other bioplastics may contain thousands of chemical additives, many of which, such as hormone disruptors, are also found in conventional plastics and are harmful to human and environmental health. PLA products and pellets can contain hundreds to more than 20,000 different chemical features, many of which are toxic to living cells like those in our bodies.

Of the thousands of composting facilities that exist in the United States, just 125 accept bioplastics. While bioplastics like PLA can technically biodegrade, composting is only possible at a few carefully controlled, high-temperature industrial facilities. PLA does not break down at the same speed as other organic materials in composting facilities, which can lead to contamination of the final compost product. In fact, some composting facilities do not accept any bioplastics due to contamination issues.

What’s more, PLA’s marketed biodegradability can confuse consumers into thinking it’s home-compostable or can be safely tossed into the natural environment. It can’t.

While the PLA industry claims its bioplastic is recyclable, at current quantities the cost and complexity of sorting and recycling the low volume of PLA in the market render it economically unfeasible. Even when PLA is recycled, like conventional plastics, it produces a downgraded product that requires additional input of feedstocks and additives to be usable. This remains in contrast to infinitely recyclable materials like aluminum, glass and paper, which do not deteriorate in quality and can retain their value through an infinite number of recycling loops.

When PLA is landfilled or enters the environment, which is where it most frequently goes, it fragments into chemical-laced microplastics that pervade our environment and contaminate food and water. About 90,000 tons of PLA products — including packaging, food service ware, and other single-use products — were discarded as U.S. waste in 2018 alone. Such pollution will only rise with continued PLA production, which grew from about 200,000 tons in 2015 to 300,000 tons globally in 2019, the most recent years for which data is available. Complicating our understanding of PLA production is a lack of industry transparency and the prevalence of forward-looking industry statements. Such statements are based on assumptions, not tangible data, designed to please investors, and mislead the public without substantiation.

Finally, PLA perpetuates the same single-use mindsets and systems that cause plastic pollution in the first place.

To solve plastic pollution, we need plastic-free, nontoxic, reusable, and refillable materials and systems that eliminate wastefulness — not more wasteful single-use synthetic materials like PLA.

Bioplastics are not the solution. Combating plastic pollution does not mean using more biodegradable and compostable plastics, but rather:

- Eliminating single-use products and systems and building regenerative markets around values of reusing, refilling, repairing, and sharing.
- Shifting the approach from substituting conventional plastics with bioplastics to significantly reducing plastics production and increasing use of more circular materials to promote long-term sustainability.
- Prioritizing the use of materials with infinite recyclability, such as aluminum, glass, and paper to maintain resource value and reduce waste through endless recycling loops.
- Improving our national recycling infrastructure to collect and manage infinitely recyclable plastic-free materials, mitigating these materials’ environmental
- Regulations that hold industries responsible for preventing and eliminating pollution and toxic chemicals, such as extended producer responsibility laws and the Global Plastics Treaty.

Real solutions to plastic pollution exist today. Our world must stop greenwashed false solutions and stay focused on plastic-free, nontoxic, reusable, and refillable materials and systems instead of harmful single-use synthetic materials like PLA.

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

Previously in The Revelator:

‘We Found Plastic on the Seabed in Antarctica and I Just Cried’

Links From the Brink: Ukraine and Wildlife, Grizzlies and Wolves, Pesticides and Parkinson’s

Could the Russian invasion of Ukraine lead to worldwide declines in biodiversity? Plus other important conservation and environmental news.

As goes Ukraine, so goes the world.

That’s the message of an important new paper — one of two striking recent studies looking at the wide-ranging environmental impacts of the Russian invasion of Ukraine.

But that’s not all. In this edition of Links From the Brink, we also have the word on new science about protecting grizzlies, a discussion about the links between pesticides and Parkinson’s disease, news about a trio of traveling wolves, and more.

The Ukraine-Wildlife Connection

Think Russia’s invasion of Ukraine doesn’t affect you, or the world around you? Think again.

Ukraine has long been one of the world’s most important agricultural producers, and the war has severely diminished grain production and exports, causing food insecurity around the planet.

And that could soon affect the world’s wildlife. A study published last month in the journal Nature Sustainability predicted that a 33% reduction in Ukrainian exports could force the expansion of croplands — and reduction of wild habitat — in other parts of the world by an astonishing 8.48 million hectares (about 33,000 square miles). “This cropland expansion would impact biodiversity most in countries such as the United States, Spain, France, India and Brazil,” the researchers warned.

That’s just one potential scenario. If the war continues and all food exports from Russia and Ukraine come to an end, “cropland expansion and biodiversity loss would increase by up to 2.9 and ∼4.5 times,” according to the paper.

At a time when many nations have pledged to set aside 30% of their land and water for conservation, it’s clear that warfare is not only a humanitarian emergency but a threat multiplier of the extinction and climate crises. Military action no longer threatens only the regions in which it occurs but the planet, its people, and its wildlife as a whole.

Rebuilding Ukraine

Ukraine’s forests have suffered severe losses during the war, and so have its urban trees — especially in the cities that have been hardest hit by Russian missiles. A new paper in Urban Forestry & Urban Greening looks at the cultural and societal impact of the destruction of green spaces and discusses five factors the authors say should influence eventual replanting and restoration efforts:

1. Residents’ desire to have their original environment restored.
2. The unavailability of nursery stock for replanting immediately after the war.
3. The impacts of bombing on soil.
4. The importance of engaging residents in replanting efforts.
5. The psychological value of saving some damaged trees as survivors of the war.

That last point reminds me of famous “witness trees” that outlived times of war and conflict, such as the irradiated hibakujumoku ginkgo trees of Hiroshima; Maryland’s willow oak, which still stands more than two centuries after the War of 1812; and the Survivor Tree crews rescued from the rubble of Ground Zero after 9/11.

The 9/11 Memorial & Museum calls this last tree “a living reminder of resilience, survival, and rebirth.” Its seeds have since been distributed to dozens of communities that have undergone their own tragedies — including some sent to Ukraine in 2022. Perhaps certain witness trees in Ukraine — or Gaza — could soon serve similar roles.

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In Other News: Dogs to the Rescue?

We’ve written a lot about livestock guardian dogs, who have helped many a farmer or rancher to avoid conflicts with wolves, snow leopards and other predators who may want to prey on their herds. Can the same canine concept be used to protect farms from grizzly bears?

Grizzlies are known to occasionally prey on livestock, but they’re also attracted to farmland by the tasty aroma of grain storage. Their arrival can make people nervous and put the bears at severe risk. A new study sought to reduce that danger by placing guardian dogs at four farmsteads in Montana. While that’s admittedly a small sample size, the early results were more than encouraging. According to the study, published in Biological Conservation, the farmsteads previously had “chronic” problems with hungry bears wandering onto their properties, but the addition of guardian dogs caused a dramatic reduction in grizzly encounters, as evidenced by both camera traps and GPS tracking-collar data from tracked bears.

The authors suggest the need to expand this study, especially since the dog breeds traditionally used as guardians have an instinctual drive to protect animals (livestock), which may not translate long-term to guarding grain and people.

But to that point, this work might also support the broader use of guardian dogs in grizzly country, where they could protect livestock much like how they guard against wolves in other parts of the country. And that could help solve one of the biggest problems facing grizzlies.

“Conflicts with livestock are one of the most important obstacles with the recovery of grizzly bears,” wildlife ecologist Lance McNew said in 2019.

Whether it’s on a farm or in the field, it seems dogs could be one of the solutions to help both grizzlies and people.

Speaking of Wolves…

…a wolf pack has just been spotted in Nevada for the first time in more than a century. An individual wolf appeared in the Silver State in 2016, but the state hasn’t reported any wolves since then, let alone a group. The sighting hasn’t been officially confirmed yet — state wildlife officials classify the observation as “three suspected wolves” — but if I were a betting man, I’d place my money on Nevada to be the next state gray wolves repopulate.

Rights for Whales?

In the latest advancement of the Rights of Nature movement, the king of New Zealand’s Māori people last month called for whales to gain the same legal rights and protections as human beings. “The sound of our ancestor’s song has grown weaker, and her habitat is under threat, which is why we must act now,” said Kīngi Tūheitia Pōtatau Te Wherowhero VII.

Meanwhile a draft constitutional amendment proposes making Aruba the second nation to formally recognize the Rights of Nature and the right of humans to live in a clean environment. The public comment period will have ended by the time this article publishes, but we’ll be following this news with interest.

Webinar Watch

What are the connections between pollution, pesticides and neurological conditions like Parkinson’s Disease? This recent webinar from the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson’s Research digs into the emerging science:

An Update From the Brink

The complex calls of the straw-headed bulbul have made it (through no fault of its own) one of the world’s most trafficked, and most endangered, songbirds. But Singapore has emerged as a surprising stronghold for the species.

That’s it for this edition of Links From the Brink. We’ll be back next month with more news, science and analysis from the Anthropocene. Until then make sure to celebrate Bat Appreciation Day on April 17, World Curlew Day on April 21, Earth Day (of course) on April 22, and World Penguin Day on April 25. I’ll be breaking out my tuxedo for that one.

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Previously in The Revelator:

Cranes in Ukraine: Birds of Joy in a War-Torn Land

Six Degrees of Plant Extinction

When humans bring new plants to an ecosystem, it can slowly push out the original inhabitants. Research shows us how to identify this threat before plant species become “the living dead.”

Author’s note: My “Extinction Countdown” column will mark its 20th anniversary this summer. As that milestone approaches, let’s look back at some previous entries, which I’ll update for the world we find ourselves in today. A version of this article was published in 2016 in Scientific American.

Japanese knotweed. Purple loosestrife. Kudzu. Mesquite. Giant hogweed. Bitou bush. What do these plants have in common? Easy: They’re among the most “invasive” plant species on the planet. When humans bring these highly adaptable, fast-growing plants to new ecosystems, whether it’s on purpose or by accident, native species often get squeezed out and pushed toward extinction.

But, unlike predators such as rats and cats — which have threatened animal species and caused extinctions around the globe — have displaced plants like kudzu ever actually driven another plant species extinct? The authors of a 2016 paper published in the journal AoB Plants couldn’t document any confirmed cases.

Not yet, anyway. But that’s only because globalization is a relatively recent phenomenon.

“The main reason why there is no clear evidence of extinction that can be exclusively attributed to plant invasions is that invasions have not been around long enough,” co-author Dave Richardson of the Centre for Invasion Biology at Stellenbosch University, South Africa, said in a prepared release. “Our research shows that plant extinction is an agonizingly slow process. However, red flags are evident in numerous locations around the world — species that now exist in fragmented populations, with radically reduced opportunities to reproduce.”

Richardson and co-author Paul Downey from the University of Canberra looked at these “red flags” and came up with a six-point “extinction trajectory” for native plant species facing threats from displaced vegetation:

1. Plants die more quickly than they can be replaced by their offspring in some locations.
2. Plants disappear from some locations entirely, but potential offspring remain as “propagules,” seeds or spores that could regenerate a new cohort of individuals.
3. Some locations lose both individual plants and their propagules. With no plants or seeds, this is a local extinction.
4. The last locations hosting a species lose their individual plants, but in some places seeds or spores remain in the soil.
5. The species is entirely lost in the wild, with no individuals or propagules. The only survivors are held in botanic collections.
6. The remaining plants are lost, and the remaining seeds or spores are no longer capable of becoming new plants.

Downey said that this research suggests we need to start managing threatened plants much earlier than we currently do.

“If we wait until we have sufficient evidence to show that extinctions are occurring, it will be too late to save a great number of species,” he said. Hundreds of plants species, the authors warn, may already be functionally extinct and exist now only as “the living dead.”

The biggest risk point for many plant species appears to exist somewhere between points 2 and 4 on Downey and Richardson’s scale. As we’ve seen with many endangered plants, figuring out how to keep a species alive in a botanical setting is not as easy as simply sticking a seed in the ground. Many plants require very specific conditions in which to germinate — some rely on fire, for example, while others need to be consumed by an animal, after which stomach acids soften a seed’s outer layer before it is pooped back out. Other plants require specific pollinators, which may also disappear as humans destroy an ecosystem’s delicate balance.

Will we discover the details on how these endangered plants propagate in time to save them? That seems unlikely for many species. Another 2016 paper in Conservation Biology warned that plants in general remain understudied while scientists concentrate on mammals and other more charismatic species, much in the same way that scientists also ignore “ugly” creatures. The authors called this “plant blindness” and suggest that it could have severe implications for conservation of many species now and in the future.

As Downey and Richardson wrote in their paper, the lack of evidence for extinctions “does not mean we should disregard the broader threat.” In fact, that may just make it more urgent.

Previously in The Revelator:

The Monumental Effort to Replant the Klamath River Dam Reservoirs

Coastal Restoration: Recycled Shells and Millions of Larvae — A Recipe for Renewed Oyster Reefs

As oyster reefs have declined, other marine species have suffered and coastal storm damage has increased. Innovative programs are starting to help.

Coastal ecosystems — including oyster reefs, sandy beaches, mangrove forests and seagrass beds — provide important habitat for marine life and food and recreation for people. They also protect shorelines from waves and storms. But these precious systems face serious threats. This series looks at what put them at risk, along with examples of efforts to restore and protect important coastal ecosystems around the world.

At the Water Street Market oyster bar in Corpus Christi, Texas, the popular morsels arrive in typical fashion, nestled in open shells spiraled atop an ice-filled tray around containers of red sauce and horseradish.

What happens afterward isn’t typical: The shells go back into nearby bays to help restore oyster reefs.

Since the 1800s populations of the eastern oyster (Crassostrea virginica) have declined dramatically along the U.S. Atlantic and Gulf coasts due to overharvesting, pollution and disease. Other species and populations have suffered similar drops. Worldwide, scientists estimate at least 85% of oyster reefs have disappeared.

The loss doesn’t affect just diners. Oysters are ecosystem engineers that create extensive reefs that protect shorelines from storm surges and erosion and provide important habitat for fish, crabs and other marine species.

Oysters also maintain water quality, with each one capable of filtering nearly 16 gallons (60 liters) of water a day.

Fewer oysters mean coastal communities see fewer of these benefits. Declining numbers also make it harder for oysters to naturally replenish reefs without some help.

Save the Shells

Oysters spawn by releasing sperm and eggs into the water. The resulting larvae swim freely for about three weeks and then permanently attach to a surface, when they become known as spat. Within a few years, spat grow into mature oysters, complete with their own shell. While larvae will settle on anything hard, they prefer the shells of other oysters.

These days finding them has become a challenge.

Up until the 1980s in Texas, tons of oyster shells were dredged from reefs and used as material to create roads (albeit somewhat rough ones) all along the coast. And while the state’s commercial oyster harvest has declined drastically, and has seen partial closures in recent years, the Gulf region (which includes three other states) still produces 45% of the nation’s catch — about 12.5 million pounds of meat, according to NOAA. That’s a lot of oyster shells that came out of the water, most of which end up in landfills.

To change that, the Harte Research Institute for Gulf of Mexico Studies at Texas A&M University-Corpus Christi started the Sink Your Shucks program in 2009. So far it has put 3 million pounds of shells back into the ocean where oyster larvae can find them. The efforts have helped restore more than 45 acres of reefs in nearby Copano, Aransas and St. Charles Bays.

Restaurants separate shells into special rolling bins that staff from Sink Your Shucks collect on a regular basis. The shells are then piled up at the Port of Corpus Christi to sanitize in the sun for about six months before they are taken to a restoration site. They may be placed on a rock base to keep them from sinking into the mud or just poured into the water, depending on the condition of the sea bottom.

Some are put in mesh bags, which keeps the shells from spreading out and being covered in sediment and gives vertical structure to the reef. Scientists with HRI’s Coastal Conservation and Restoration Lab tested different bag materials, including plastic and biodegradable jute, cotton, and cellulose.

A line of volunteers carry bags of oyster shells into the water. Courtesy Texas A&M University-Corpus Christi

The study showed the oysters and other marine life are perfectly happy with the biodegradable material, and the project is using cotton.

“There are issues with cost and sourcing,” says project manager Natasha Breaux. “Plastic is cheap. But the rationale was that it would be better to use something biodegradable and not introduce plastics into the ocean.”

Restaurants sign up, says program coordinator Mike Osier, because keeping shells out of the landfill saves them money and they can highlight their commitment to sustainability.

Both facts motivated Water Street owner Brad Lomax, who helped establish the program. He recalls complaining to a customer, who happened to be a scientist from HRI, about high dumpster charges caused by oyster shells.

“He said oyster shells in a landfill are a resource out of place,” Lomax says. “That really resonated with me. When you dredge an oyster reef, you essentially destroy it for a significant period of time. We can’t do that anymore.”

Osier strives to make participating as easy as possible and promotes restaurants on the program website and social media. He provides an annual statement of the total pounds donated and the current market rate for shell for businesses to use in claiming a tax benefit.

Once the shells are placed, the Coastal Conservation and Restoration lab monitors restoration sites.

“It’s like a reef snapshot,” says researcher Danielle Downey. “We count and measure oysters in the field. We put shells out in sample trays and later collect the animals growing there and bring them back to the lab to look at abundance and diversity. We get a lot of toadfish, shrimp and crabs — lots of crabs.”

Larvae Wanted

Texas still has enough natural reefs to produce the baby oysters needed to populate restoration projects, but the oyster population in the Chesapeake Bay sits at about 1% of historical levels due to centuries of overharvesting — about 1.5 billion oysters a year by the end of the 19th century — along with pollution and habitat destruction. Protected areas established in 2010 cover about 24% of all oysters in Maryland, but with such a low wild population, protection alone is not enough.

“The reefs won’t come back on their own — it takes active restoration to jumpstart the population,” says Matt Ogburn, head of the fisheries conservation lab at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center.

In the Chesapeake that jumpstart includes an approach called spat on shell: growing larvae in a hatchery, letting them settle on shells, then placing those on a reef. The process is complicated by the fact that these mollusks switch sexes, often multiple times during their lives, but it works. In 2021, for example, the Chesapeake Bay Foundation deployed more than 21 million spat on shell to reefs throughout the Bay. As part of the Chesapeake Oyster Alliance, some 100 nonprofits, community organizations, and oyster growers, CBF is contributing toward an overall goal of 10 billion.

A 10-year old restoration reef in Harris Creek, a tributary of the Choptank River directly across Chesapeake Bay. Courtesy Smithsonian Environmental Research Center.

CBF has been restoring oyster reefs in the Bay since 1996. In 2022 it partnered with SERC, moving its spat-on-shell operation to the center’s campus in Edgewater, Maryland. One of SERC’s roles is to conduct extensive monitoring at sites before and at regular intervals after restoration. The team collects data aimed at creating a complete picture of what happens in the first few years, says Ogburn.

“We use high-frequency sonar to see how tall and complex reefs are, the abundance and size of fish and crabs around the reef, and how that differs as the reefs grow and mature,” he says. “Because sonar cannot identify specific species, we extract DNA from water samples, sequence it, and compare results to a reference library for the Chesapeake Bay. We also take underwater video every year and use a scoring system to rank the size and height of reefs. Combining all these methods provides an unprecedented picture of how a restored reef develops.”

The lab currently monitors three restoration sites and unrestored control sites that have similar conditions. The early news has been good, Ogburn says, with oysters surviving and increasing in abundance.

“We’ll keep collecting data for two more years, then review those results and provide information on how restoration is working or whether we need to modify our efforts going forward,” he says, adding that so far, the reefs in the best condition have both protection and active restoration.

Bringing back the Bay’s oysters is a big task that takes a lot of hands. In addition to SERC’s research and monitoring, CBF helped design the sites and monitors settlement of larvae, including any natural recruitment of baby oysters. Arundel Rivers Federation’s Riverkeeper monitors the water quality around restored reefs. CBF and Northrop Grumman are monitoring the soundscape around reefs and how it changes over time.

CBF receives shells from The Oyster Recovery Partnership’s Shell Recycling Alliance, which collects them at restaurants in central Maryland, Washington DC, and northern Virginia and from dozens of public drop sites. CBF also runs its own program, Save Oyster Shells, that collects at restaurants, drop sites, and events in Maryland and Virginia. In fact, shell collection projects exist all along the Gulf and East coasts.

Collection efforts eventually could extend beyond coastal areas, says Osier, if obstacles such as shell storage and transportation can be overcome. When shells are not available, though, artificial substrate such as concrete and rock seems to work just fine.

These projects are proving that combining protection, substrate, and lab-grown spat where needed can create a recipe for successful oyster reef recovery. And it’s a recipe that seems to work fairly quickly, says HRI’s Breaux.

“Typically, restored reefs start to act like natural reefs in a short amount of time, within months.”

On Saturday May 4 and Saturday May 11, volunteers can join Sink Your Shucks at Goose Island State Park near Rockport, Texas, to bag oyster shells. Register for these and future events here.

Previously in The Revelator:

Divert or Die: Louisiana’s Controversial Plan to Save Coastal Communities and Ecosystems

Cranes in Ukraine: Birds of Joy in a War-Torn Land

As the Russian invasion rages on, two species of crane make their annual migration into ancestral habitats that have become a battlefield.

This spring, as Russian missiles and drones continued to rain destruction upon Ukraine, a more hopeful symbol appeared in the skies about the embattled nation.

The cranes had returned.

Every March and April, these elegant, long-necked birds migrate into the marshes, lakes and steppes of Ukraine, where they build nests and spend several months resting and eating before flying off for winter. Two crane species arrive each year: the common or gray crane (Grus grus) and the demoiselle or steppe crane (G. virgo). The critically endangered Siberian crane (Leucogeranus leucogeranus) has also been known to visit the country.

The cranes’ annual spring arrival is normally cause for celebration in Ukraine.

“The Ukrainian people have always revered the crane as a bird of general happiness and joy,” says Olga Chevganiuk, head of international department at UAnimals, Ukraine’s largest animal-rights organization, which has helped evacuate thousands of animals from warzones. “The birds were addressed with requests for a harvest, health, and wellbeing in the family.” Witnessing cranes in spring was seen as a portent of an upcoming wedding, and weddings themselves are often celebrated with a crane-inspired folk dance.

“These birds dance beautifully, and not only during the mating season,” Chevganiuk says. “They use their elegant bows and jumps, and sometimes wild and funny movements, to communicate as a family.”

For other people around the world, cranes mean something bigger: peace. For the past few years, hundreds of individuals, church groups and other community efforts have folded thousands of blue and gold origami cranes to signify their support for the Ukrainian people.

This year Ukraine could use the support — and the cranes — more than ever. “Cranes are the personification of our desires and balance, which we need so much now,” Chevganiuk says. Their arrival in March coincided with Russia’s destruction of the country’s largest hydroelectric dam, something one Ukrainian official tells me has caused another “ecological disaster” for a landscape already scarred by bombs and invading forces.

The cranes themselves have felt some of the effects of war, especially on Crimea, the Ukrainian peninsula Russia first invaded in 2014. Other crane habitats affected by the conflict include the Donetsk region, Kherson and Zaporizhzhia, says Yury Andryushchenko, doctor of biological sciences and head of the Laboratory of Ornithology of Southern Ukraine. “Active ‘maneuvers’ of a large number of occupiers are taking place in these territories,” which have seen military fortification and fierce battles over the past two years.

The damage to crane habitats around Ukraine has been significant, according to accounts from other publications and conservation organizations. BirdLife reported in August 2022 that “[as] a result of bombings and rocket attacks, there have been large-scale forest fires (Chornobyl zone) and fires in the reed thickets in river floodplains (Azov-Black Sea region) destroying the habitats of forest bird species,” including the common crane. “In the Kherson region, along the shores of the Azov and Black Seas, fires ignited by artillery and mines destroyed reed thickets and imperiled the habitats of birds such as the Demoiselle crane, a species considered endangered in Europe,” Audubon magazine reported last fall.

Numerous other bird species have also been affected by the war, Andryushchenko says, including steppe larks and several kinds of woodpecker. “The most negative impact on the avifauna occurs directly during hostilities, which lead to scaring, injury and death of birds or their clutches and broods, disruption of the daily cycle, destruction of housing, etc.,” he says. The Ukrainian Nature Conservation Group has identified dozens of bird species threatened by the invasion.

A demoiselle crane on Crimea in April 2022. Photo © AnnaR via iNaturalist (CC BY-NC)

As with all acts of war, the damage goes far beyond the bombs and bullets.

“Birds are not only directly affected by hostilities,” Andryushchenko says, “but also by the military and other activities — providing troops with weapons, ammunition and food; repairing equipment, roads and various structures like bridges, pipelines and towers; mining, digging trenches and building fortifications. In addition, simply by the movement of military personnel and military equipment.”

Assessing that damage will take time — and it won’t happen immediately. “In order to find out the specifics of the impact of the war on the steppe crane population, it is necessary to conduct appropriate research in this occupied area,” Andryushchenko says. “We will certainly do this after our victory.”

And with that statement, cranes embody hope once again.

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Previously in The Revelator:

In Ukraine, Saving Wildlife Harmed by War

The Shocking Truth About Sloths

As their forests disappear, sloths are climbing on dangerous power lines. Veterinarians and rescue centers are developing new techniques to help.

Sloths are the darlings of the internet. Their mouths naturally turn up, making them look like they’re always smiling. They’re the embodiment of chill, with the slowest metabolism of any non-hibernating mammal. On social media posts, there are photos and drawing of sloths, many with humorous or encouraging sayings celebrating sloths’ slowness and sleepiness. “Slow down and enjoy life,” one reads.

Of course, the real lives of sloths aren’t so Instagrammable. Throughout the range of the seven sloth species in Central and South America, the animals face many challenges to their survival, including dog bites, getting hit by vehicles, and electrocution.

Each of these are the consequences of deforestation, says Adriana Aguilar Borbon, marketing and environmental education manager for Proyecto Asís Wildlife Sanctuary in San Carlos, Costa Rica and a member of the International Union for Conservation of Nature Species Survival Commission Anteater, Sloth and Armadillo Specialist Group.

Electrocution is one of the main reasons sloths are admitted to wildlife rescue centers, says Ana María Villada Rosales, a veterinarian at The Sloth Institute in Manual Antonio, Costa Rica. Sloths get electrocuted when they use uninsulated power lines to travel across the forest canopy, instead of branches and vines.

In one recent year, over 20% of the sloths treated at the Toucan Rescue Ranch in San Josecito, Costa Rica had electrocution injuries, according to Janet Sandi, its veterinary director. The actual number of electrocuted sloths is bigger than what her organization sees, Sandi says, because many of the sloths they treat are orphans whose mothers have died from their injuries.

Perilous Power

Road crossings are particularly perilous for sloths. Often branches are cleared away, leaving power and telephone lines as the only way to move over the road.

Sloths are not alone. All over the world, wildlife is electrocuted by powerlines. Scientific literature describes the electrocution of elephants in India; vultures in South Africa; macaws in Brazil; eagles in the United States, Argentina and Spain; and lots of primates.

“Pretty much everywhere there are monkeys, they get electrocuted,” says James F. Dwyer, a wildlife biologist who studies wildlife interactions with electrical equipment for the utility consulting firm EDM International in Fort Collins, Colorado.

It’s not just monkeys. The scientific literature describes the electrocution of primates such as langurs in India and Sri Lanka; Java slow lorises in Indonesia; Angolan black-and-white colobus, Sykes monkeys, white-tailed small-eared galagos, vervet monkeys, and northern yellow baboons in Kenya; and howler monkeys in Brazil.

Especially for smaller primates, electrocution from a power line is often fatal, Sandi says.

Other, even smaller, animals like squirrels can scamper down a bare electrical wire unharmed, Dwyer says, because electricity will only flow through an animal if it is touching two energized wires, or an energized wire and a path to ground. Sloths and primates are large enough to reach two uninsulated wires at the same time.

Transformers and cross-arms have connections that are closer together, allowing even small squirrels to touch two exposed wires, which is why squirrels are the most electrocuted animals in the United States — and the most common cause of power outages, according to Dwyer. But in most of the world, the cross arms of transmission poles are made of metal, he says, and sometimes the pole is made of metal too, providing even more opportunity for wildlife electrocution.

In some cases, electrocution deaths endanger a species. Electrocution is the leading cause of death in adult golden eagles, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. In Kazakhstan recently, Dwyer saw photos of thousands of electrocuted saker falcons, listed as endangered on the IUCN Red List, under power lines across the steppe.

Saving Sloths Requires Innovation

The electrocution wounds sloths experience can be severe, burning away flesh to the tendons and even to the bone. If the burn reaches the bone, often an entire limb must be amputated to save the sloth’s life, sloth veterinarians say.

An amputee sloth in the forest. Photo: Janet Sandi, used with permission.

While in treatment, sloths belie their chill reputation. “These guys are really feisty,” Sandi says. “They can bite hard and cause infections. We usually need four people to hold them to give them an injection.”

But their slow metabolism means that sloths heal slowly. Bandage changes can be painful for the sloths, and because of both the sloths’ pain and the veterinarians’ safety, many sloths need to be put under anesthesia for each bandage change, which, for traditional bandages, typically happens daily. General anesthesia poses some risk to sloths, just as it does to humans.

Because of this, Sandi and Villada were intrigued when they learned that bears who had been burned in California’s 2018 Thomas fire healed more quickly, with fewer bandage changes, when treated with bandages made from the sterilized skin of a commonly eaten and farmed fish, the tilapia.

In the United States, people who suffer burns are often treated with donated human skin, pig skin or an artificial substitute. These materials are not widely available in places such as Brazil, which has innovated the use of sterilized tilapia skin to treat burns in humans.

Villada and Sandi wanted to have as much information as possible before trying the technique, so they thought about who in their local veterinary network had experience using tilapia skin bandages.

Meanwhile Isabel Hagnauer, a veterinarian at Rescate Wildlife Rescue Center in Alajuela, Costa Rica, was facing a similar issue with the sloths in her care. “Of the 14 two-toed sloths we treated in 2023, five had been electrocuted. We also cared for two baby two-toed sloths orphaned by electrocution.” In Hagnauer’s case, it was news about a burned mountain lion, from the same California fire, that made her eager to try tilapia skin bandages on recovering sloths.

For all three veterinarians, the Costa Rican colleague with the expertise they were looking for was Pricilla Ortiz, a veterinarian mostly working with dogs and cats who was so impressed with the benefits of tilapia skin on her patients that she started a company to sell the bandages.

“Using the tilapia skin, I was able to reduce the amount of antibiotics and analgesics [pain relievers] I was giving,” Ortiz says. “The best part was not having to stress the animals with bandage changes.”

The translation of the bandage techniques from dogs to sloths was not completely smooth. Some of the first two-toed sloths they bandaged with tilapia skin, Villada says, promptly ate the bandage. After that, the team put loose cloth bandages over the tilapia skin to eliminate bandage snacking.

Veterinarians apply a tilapia skin bandage. Photo: Janet Sandi, used with permission.

On dogs, a tilapia skin bandage typically lasts about 10 days, Ortiz says. But Sandi and Villada noticed that some sloths were showing signs of infection after the tilapia skin bandages had been in place for as little as five days. The solution was simple: more frequent bandage changes. Even changing a bandage every five days was a huge improvement over changing them daily.

For veterinarians, and for everyone working at sloth rescue centers across their range, the biggest heartbreak of electrocuted sloths is that even when the animals’ external wounds are healing nicely, they often die after a few weeks of internal injuries, which may not show symptoms.

Of course, the best remedy would be to prevent electrocutions in the first place. In Costa Rica, several nonprofits erect rope bridges over roads to protect sloths and monkeys. In the United States, Dwyer says, California utility companies have found success with plastic covers for power lines, transformers and other power equipment in places where hawks and eagles get electrocuted.

Installing the covers is expensive, Dwyer says. While the covers themselves are low-cost, the expense of sending utility workers to remote locations is significant.

Aguilar says Proyecto Asís Wildlife Sanctuary has been successful working with communities in Costa Rica to report places where wildlife are being electrocuted and getting the power company to install protective plastic covers.

Saving Every Sloth

However, Aguilar believes that sloths’ internet popularity is a threat that overshadows all the threats that are bringing sloths to rescue centers. Veterinarians see the animals that die of electrocution, vehicle strikes and dog bites. What they don’t see, she says, is the sloths that die after being brought from table to table at tourist restaurants for $10 sloth selfies, while also being mistreated by their handlers. “When the sloth dies, they just get another,” she says.

Is the treatment of electrocution injuries helping sloths survive as species? While conservation biologists working with other species may disagree on the value of saving individual animals, sloth experts agree that every animal matters when there is so little known about these species.

While the pygmy three-toed sloth is critically endangered and the maned sloth is vulnerable, less is known about the four common sloth species that are currently considered “least concern” on the IUCN Red List.

“We don’t really know all that much about sloth populations,” says Monique Pool, founder and director of the Green Heritage Foundation and a member of the IUCN SSC specialist group for sloths and their kin. “I can only confidently say something about the sloth populations in greater Paramaribo,” Suriname’s capital city, where the Green Heritage Foundation is located. Pool feels some of the most commonly cited studies of sloth populations greatly overestimate their numbers.

“My biologist friends feel differently about the rescue and rehabilitation work that we do,” Pool says. “Our goal is to maintain viable sloth populations in urban areas. For us, every life matters.”

“Rehabilitation is part of conservation,” says Tinka Plese, founder and director of Aiunau, a Caldas, Columbia-based sloth, anteater and armadillo conservation organization and a member of the IUCN SSC specialist group for those animals. “Every animal we can return to the wild helps.”

A rescued sloth returns to the trees. Photo: Janet Sandi, used with permission.

Once it was thought that sloth amputees and sloths that had been in human care for longer periods could not be released into the wild. But both The Sloth Institute and Rescate Wildlife Rescue Center track the sloths they release and have found that many live long, healthy lives.

Hagnauer says a sloth that was released after a partial arm amputation has lived free within the rescue center’s 19 hectare (47 acre) grounds, often appearing with her babies, for nine years. Another popular sloth, nicknamed Don Lupe, was released in 2021 after a complete arm amputation and was recently seen in the wild.

Sloths that survive electrocution are creating a reputation for grit over chill. Sandi recalls a time when she placed a sloth that had just had surgery to amputate a limb near a tree in an enclosure at the Toucan Rescue Ranch. She went to get a cup of coffee, figuring it would be a long time before this slowest of mammals made a move. But when she came back, the sloth was gone.

She looked up, and there it was, in the branches. “I said, ‘Oh gosh, these guys are really strong.’”

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Previously in The Revelator:

How Social Media Supports Animal Cruelty and the Illegal Pet Trade

From Glass Ceilings to Green Houses: More Women Are Needed in Green Industry

Women play a critical role in sustainable development, combatting climate change, and taking care of our natural resources. But industry needs to do more to support them.

In an era marked by increasing environmental awareness and urgency, the need for more diversity in what we call “the green industry” has never been stronger. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics defines green jobs as those that produce goods or services that benefit the environment or conserve natural resources, including ecological restoration, forestry, landscaping, and renewable energy. Despite its crucial role in preserving our planet, the field remains predominantly male, with only 10% women.

As a woman in this field, I’ve gained field experience in both natural areas and urban green spaces, learned technical skills like operating a chainsaw and climbing trees, and secured credentials like becoming an International Society of Arboriculture Certified Arborist. I’ve had the chance to make a difference for the planet, protect habitat for birds and other species, and meet and mentor other women around the United States.

The type of work is varied and dynamic — but why, in an industry dedicated to preserving and protecting “Mother Nature,” are there so few women conducting this important work?

A primary barrier to women’s entry into green industry has been a perception of these jobs as involving physical labor and long hours away from home, features traditionally associated with a male demographic. As a result there hasn’t been sufficient outreach to, or education of, underrepresented groups like women on potential career pathways in the sector. Despite significant improvements in inclusive workplaces, representation is still lacking.

One way to address this is to elevate the many benefits of working in the green industry. Outdoor work not only contributes to improved mental and physical health but also offers a fulfilling choice to those seeking a break from the confines of an office setting.

Opting for a forestry career, for instance, means immersing yourself in nature more than the average person, which actively decreases stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline, preventing chronic inflammation and supporting a well-regulated immune system. Spending time in a forest, whether urban or rural, also contributes to the mitigation of health problems like respiratory diseases and skin cancer and encourages an active lifestyle, combating obesity.

Growing Trees, Growing Careers

The green industry is experiencing unprecedented growth. Based on data from the Urban Forestry 2020 Project, U.S. job opportunities in urban forestry are projected to grow 5-17%, varying by region. Thanks to many new government programs to mitigate the effects of climate change, there’s a historic level of funding and investment in green infrastructure, clean and renewable energy, and nature-based solutions for sustainable development.

A woman in a hardhat and bright yellow jacket stands among and holds forestry tools — Tools of the trade. Photo: Openlands

For example, through the Inflation Reduction Act, $1.5 billion is being invested in urban and community forestry through the U.S. Forest Service, promoting increased tree canopy cover in disinvested communities and the proper maintenance and management of urban forests. This growth demands a diverse workforce equipped to execute these projects and tackle future challenges.

Opportunities for Women

An increased emphasis on providing paid training and educational opportunities means there are now many ways women can enter the industry. Parts of the sector are recognized as skilled trades and utilize apprenticeship or earn-as-you-learn models that provide program participants with the equivalent of college-level education, mentorship, and hands-on learning experiences.

One example is the Openlands’ Arborist Registered Apprenticeship program, which I oversee. This program is the first and only Department of Labor-approved Registered Apprenticeship for Arboriculture in the state of Illinois. Initiatives like these give individuals who feel under-qualified or face barriers to entry the opportunity for professional development. They also connect people with peers who can share knowledge, resources, and support to ensure success.

A woman in professional gear prepares a tree for planting — In response to the unfortunate impacts of climate change, there is a global need for specialized foresters and conservation scientists to protect one of our most vital natural resources: trees. Photo credit Openlands

Even in a male-dominated industry, women have found opportunities to support one another. An example in my field is the Women’s Tree Climbing Workshop, where participants join industry leaders to learn the fundamentals of tree climbing and expand existing skills. The workshop gives the group technical learning opportunities and fosters community and belonging.

Companies and organizations are promoting networking opportunities for women across the industry. Events like the International Society of Arboriculture Annual Conference and the Tree Care Industry Association Annual Expo host programs focused on connecting and empowering female professionals.

Despite these positive examples, there’s more work to be done in promoting diversity, equity and inclusion in the green sector. Companies and organizations must prioritize DEI initiatives and invest in training and professional development for all individuals, regardless of gender.

As stewards of the environment and advocates for our planet, leaders and workers in green industries have to encourage and empower more women to pursue careers in the field. By breaking down barriers and fostering inclusivity, we can build a greener, more equitable future.

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.

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