Hope For Animals And Their World Part 5

She told me that she has spent many nights struggling to save whoopers, and has had to work around the clock with veterinarians for weeks at a time. Once a toxic mold grew in the feed and 90 percent of the birds (sandhills and whoopers) became sick. "We had to tube-feed almost all the birds to save them," Kathy recalled. "We worked for six weeks without a single day off ... That was a terrible time. But we got through it."

It was Joe who told me that his dream of leading a much bigger flock that autumn was not to be. "But at least we have seventeen birds to train-and there were not many more in the whole world when the first efforts to save whooping cranes were made." Addison, he a.s.sured me, was doing really well-"strong and feisty."

A Visit to the Original Flock in Texas Meanwhile the wild Aransas/Wood Buffalo flock, which provided those first eggs for the first captive-bred chicks at Patuxent, has steadily increased. In the fall of 2006, 237 birds returned from Canada to Aransas in Texas, with 45 fledged chicks including a new record-seven "twins" (meaning both eggs hatched from seven two-egg clutches). And the following year, 266 wild whooping cranes wintered in the refuge. "twins" (meaning both eggs hatched from seven two-egg clutches). And the following year, 266 wild whooping cranes wintered in the refuge.

The Aransas National Wildlife Refuge was founded by President Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1937 to protect the migratory and other birds that find a rich food source-blue crabs and other aquatic creatures-in the brackish pools of the marshland habitat. We would not have a story to tell if this land had not been protected back then. Unfortunately the wetlands along the coast of Texas have become increasingly degraded due to human population pressures, heavy commercial shipping, and the introduction of exotic species. And fifteen hundred acres of the refuge was lost when a channel was dredged for the Intracoastal Waterway that cut right through the six thousand acres of marshland.

By the start of the new millennium, it was estimated that some 20 percent of the original refuge had been lost. Finally, it was decided that something must be done. A major effort to protect and restore the marshlands is now under way: The banks along the waterway have been lined with heavy matting that completely stops the erosion of the salt marsh. New levees have been built, and material dredged from the channel has been piled up on the inside of the barrier and seeded with marshland plants. It is hoped that the cranes will eventually move into this man-made habitat.

I was in Aransas in 2002 to help celebrate the hundredth anniversary of the entire National Wildlife Refuge System. My visit had been arranged by ConocoPhillips-for many years, Conoco had contributed funds to the preservation of the marshland. At the dinner Tom Stehn, whooping crane coordinator with the US Fish and Wildlife Service, Aransas, presented me with a treasured feather from the wing of a whooping crane (with all its government permissions for ownership!). But before that, there had been time to go out in the research boat. As we moved slowly along the waterways, a roseate spoonbill flew past, the pink of its wings illuminated by the setting sun. And then, filling the air with magic, came the call of the whooping crane. There they were, a pair standing tall and straight, then bowing their heads to search for the blue crabs and frogs of the wetlands. We saw two more pairs before the dusk closed in and we had to head back. We did not try to get close-it was enough to know that they were there, still returning to their old ancestral winter feeding grounds. And one last time, we heard the wild call of a whooping crane sounding over the darkening wetlands.

This picture is vivid in my mind as I sit, thinking back over the past few years. Despite everything, against all odds, these ancient birds have survived, and it is thanks to the imagination, dedication, and sheer determination of the people I have met during this journey of discovery, and all those I have not. People who have devoted their lives to ensuring that the whooping crane shall not vanish from the marshlands and prairies, rivers and skies, of North America.

THE ROMANCE OF GEORGE AND TEX THE ROMANCE OF GEORGE AND TEXGeorge Archibald has devoted his whole life to cranes of all species. He has played a role in the conservation of the whooping crane-and not only in conventional ways. The story of his courtship with a whooping crane named Tex is enchanting. Tex, who hatched at the San Antonio Zoo in 1966, was hand-raised and imprinted on humans. She was a rare and valuable bird carrying unique genes, and it was important that she reproduce-but a decade of introductions to suitable male cranes failed. Tex preferred male Caucasians. George knew that hand-raised cranes will sometimes lay eggs if they form a close bond with a human-so he volunteered to "court" Tex. Tex, who hatched at the San Antonio Zoo in 1966, was hand-raised and imprinted on humans. She was a rare and valuable bird carrying unique genes, and it was important that she reproduce-but a decade of introductions to suitable male cranes failed. Tex preferred male Caucasians. George knew that hand-raised cranes will sometimes lay eggs if they form a close bond with a human-so he volunteered to "court" Tex. In the summer of 1976 Tex arrived at the International Crane Foundation, where a shelter had been built for the unconventional couple. Tex's side was equipped with two buckets-one for fresh water and one for nutritious pellets. George's side had a cot, a desk, and a typewriter. In the summer of 1976 Tex arrived at the International Crane Foundation, where a shelter had been built for the unconventional couple. Tex's side was equipped with two buckets-one for fresh water and one for nutritious pellets. George's side had a cot, a desk, and a typewriter. Most of the day, Tex stood nearby and watched George, but sometimes she led him outside. Most of the day, Tex stood nearby and watched George, but sometimes she led him outside.Cranes have a remarkable courtship dance that includes bowing, jumping, running, and tossing objects into the air. To strengthen their bond, George agreed to join Tex in this elaborate performance many times daily during the early months of their relationship. And it worked. The following spring, Tex laid her first egg. Unfortunately, although it was artificially inseminated, this egg was infertile. So their courtship dancing continued. The next spring she again laid one egg, but to George's intense disappointment the chick died while hatching. And for the next three years George was working in China, so others danced with Tex. But she never laid for them. And it worked. The following spring, Tex laid her first egg. Unfortunately, although it was artificially inseminated, this egg was infertile. So their courtship dancing continued. The next spring she again laid one egg, but to George's intense disappointment the chick died while hatching. And for the next three years George was working in China, so others danced with Tex. But she never laid for them. "In the spring of 1982, I made an all-out effort with Tex," George told me. For six weeks he spent every hour with her, from dawn until dusk, seven days a week. Once more, she laid one egg. And this time the chick hatched. He was named Gee Whiz. "In the spring of 1982, I made an all-out effort with Tex," George told me. For six weeks he spent every hour with her, from dawn until dusk, seven days a week. Once more, she laid one egg. And this time the chick hatched. He was named Gee Whiz. Three weeks later, as George was about to appear on Three weeks later, as George was about to appear on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, he heard that Tex had been killed by racc.o.o.ns. He went onto the show anyway, and after sharing his courtship story with twenty-two million people, he broke the sad news. he heard that Tex had been killed by racc.o.o.ns. He went onto the show anyway, and after sharing his courtship story with twenty-two million people, he broke the sad news. "The studio audience gasped, and that ripple of anguish was felt nationally," he said. "Through her dance and death, I think, Tex made a great contribution to public awareness about the plight of endangered species." "The studio audience gasped, and that ripple of anguish was felt nationally," he said. "Through her dance and death, I think, Tex made a great contribution to public awareness about the plight of endangered species." Gee Whiz prospered and eventually paired with a female whooper. Many of his offspring have been introduced back into the wild, and the genes from Tex are alive and well in both captive and wild populations of whooping cranes. Gee Whiz prospered and eventually paired with a female whooper. Many of his offspring have been introduced back into the wild, and the genes from Tex are alive and well in both captive and wild populations of whooping cranes.

Angonoka or Ploughshare Tortoise (Geochelone yniphora)

My friend Alison Jolly, a renowned primatologist and author, first told me about the angonoka or ploughshare tortoise, which lives in a remote area of northwestern Madagascar known as the Soalala peninsula. It was called the ploughshare (or plowshare) tortoise because part of the lower sh.e.l.l sticks out between the front legs like a plow.

"They are marvelously funny animals," Alison told me. "The males joust with the long 'plowshare' spur on their lower sh.e.l.l that sticks forward under their chins. The goal is to tip one's rival over on his back. They are big, like soccer b.a.l.l.s. The one on his back rocks wildly as he struggles for a foothold to turn over again." Although for the losing male it is, without doubt, a very undignified situation and not funny at all!

These tortoises live within a six-hundred-square-mile area of bamboo scrub forest and open savanna. Without the dedication of a group of conservationists, it seems almost certain that they would have slipped over the brink into the abyss of extinction. The tortoises were not hunted for food, but irresponsible dealers were taking many for sale to collectors in the international trade in rare species. And the angonoka's habitat was being overrun with bushpigs, imported from Africa. The local people believe that keeping an angonoka with their chickens will sustain the birds' health-strangely, people in south Madagascar keep a closely related species, the "radiated tortoises," with their poultry for the same reason. Maybe there is some truth in it.

In 1986, the Durrell Wildlife Conservation Trust (DWCT) launched Project Angonoka in collaboration with the Malagasy government and with support from the World Wildlife Fund (WWF). For more than ten years, this program was headed by Don Reid, whose name will forever be a.s.sociated with the restoration of the angonoka. I spoke to Don over the telephone, and he told me that when he first arrived at the site he found himself in a small field station, in the middle of a forest, surrounded by villagers who were not only puzzled by what these conservationists were up to but also suspicious of almost everything done by white people. There were a few WWF biologists who occasionally came and went, and although they were near a main road, it was extremely difficult to travel during rainy season. His job-to start a captive breeding program to try to save the angonoka from extinction.

Don Reid, whose name will forever be a.s.sociated with the restoration of the angonoka, shown here with a female in northwest Madagascar. A radio transmitter is glued to her sh.e.l.l. (Don Reid) (Don Reid) Trial and Error "When we started," Don told me, "we had to do everything from scratch. No one knew anything about the behavior of the tortoises. We didn't know what their diet was. So we had to go out plant collecting into the forest and sort of guess what they might like." They learned through trial and error. They found that the tortoises loved an introduced cactus. "They loved it so much we could give them medicine with the leaves," said Don, laughing. He told me that he found them strange creatures. "They sat around, doing nothing, for weeks throughout the long dry season," he said.

They started the captive breeding with eight individuals, five of whom were males, all of whom were confiscated from local homeowners. Gradually, over the years, others were confiscated, babies hatched, and the captive population grew.

Between January and July, each female digs between one and seven six-inch-deep nests, twenty-eight to thirty days apart. "She nests only at night," Don told me. "In each nest she lays only one, huge, egg. At midnight." Amazingly, all the eggs hatch within two weeks of one another, in the height of the wet season.

In November 1987, the first year of the breeding program, when Don went out at lunchtime to check the temperature (as he always did three times a day), he noticed that the soil in the center of a nest hole had sort of collapsed. "I saw a movement," he said. He fetched a spoon and very carefully felt under the sand-"and out came a baby hatchling!" To be followed by many more.

The First Step Is Trust The other person with whom I talked at length was Joanna Durbin, who became involved with the angonoka program in 1990. She told me about the fascinating experiences she and others of the team had as they struggled to gain the trust, the interest, and finally the support of the local villagers.

At first, she told me, their only interest in the tortoises was to keep their chickens healthy. They certainly were not interested in conservation. Joanna was told that she should ask advice from the village elders, who told her (once they agreed to talk to her at all) that it was necessary for the conservation team to be accepted by the ancestors. She learned that King Ndranokosa, the last king of the region in the nineteenth century, often returned to his people and spoke to them through the voice of an elder. Quite often he attended village ceremonies.

One day, Don took her to a village where a sick person was seeking help. For a day and a night, they sat and watched. There was much chanting, some villagers went into a trance-like state, various people from the past appeared, and old women became young men. After that marathon introduction, it was not long before Joanna met the king himself-speaking through an elder, of course. It was a successful meeting, at the end of which he p.r.o.nounced that the conservation team should be accepted since they were friends of angonoka. A cultural event should take place to bring the villages together to discuss the need for conservation of the angonoka and its habitat. They should hold a festival.

Eventually all was ready. The s.p.a.ce was cleared in the traditional fashion by driving a huge herd of cows, some from each village, around and around through the undergrowth. There was singing, dancing, chanting, and a huge feast attended by the king himself. Remembering the trouble I had when I included, in my Gombe budget, money for sacrificial chickens, white robes, and so forth in order to exorcise black magic from our field site in the north, I asked Joanna who footed the bill. "The village elders organized it-the Durrell Trust paid for it," she said.

When, eventually, the time came to discuss the angonoka, it was decided that an area in the very heart of its habitat should be protected. "We used to manage our environment," said one of the elders. "We know how to do it. But no one bothers anymore."

The habitat of the angonoka is in a remote area 150 miles from the breeding center. It was, Don told me, just too remote to site the center there. He did some fieldwork there himself, but the detailed study of the angonoka in the wild was carried out by Lora Smith. Her work-also part of the Durrell program-on the behavior and requirements of the tortoises enabled the team to locate the best area for the establishment of a protected habitat.

A Trance, a Prayer, and Then a Release Of course, the ultimate goal of the breeding program-to put angonoka back into the wild-could not happen until there was enough safe habitat to make this feasible. So it was a good day when, in 1998, the Baly Bay area in northwest Madagascar, optimum habitat for the tortoises, was declared a national park. It would be protected by eight full-time guards and a network of forty village para-rangers watching for poachers and forest fires, working closely with the local police.

Initially, a small number of juveniles were released and monitored. They adapted immediately, and their growth rate equaled that of their age mates in the breeding program. There were no deaths, no poaching, and no serious fires.

The first large-scale release took place at the end of 2005, when twenty young angonoka were released into large temporary enclosures in the forest. The event is described in a newsletter of the British Chelonia Group (BCG), an organization dedicated to promoting the interests of tortoises and turtles that raises money for conservation projects worldwide.

"We got to the village at dusk to a tumultuous welcome from the villagers who led us to a special palm thatched shelter decked out in greenery and flower chains," wrote Richard Lewis, the conservation coordinator for the Madagascar Programme of the Durrell Wildlife Conservation Trust. After speeches and an all-night dance (for those up to it!), the team and the tortoises finally set off for the forest the next morning. Everyone gathered at a small field station built at the edge of the forest. A spiritual leader offered a prayer, asking for the goodwill of the king and the ancestors. One of the elders went into a trance and spoke as the king, accepting the efforts being made by the conservation team.

Finally the twenty young tortoises, oblivious of all the hard work, planning, and celebrations, were taken into the forest and put in groups of five in outdoor enclosures. There they stayed for a month, getting familiar with the new habitat before being released, equipped with radio transmitters stuck to their sh.e.l.ls with glue.

Over the next few years, more angonoka will be released into the wild. The success of the program is, of course, due to the commitment and dedication and hard work of so many people, including and especially the Durrell team-and Don Reid. And it is a program that will not be sustainable without the continuing goodwill of the local people.

MY CHILDHOOD TORTOISES MY CHILDHOOD TORTOISESWriting this story brought back memories of my own two tortoises (not ploughshare!), which I had as a child. We had no knowledge of the pet trade that was endangering them in the wild, or the terrible conditions of their transport. The male, Percy Bysshe (because, with schoolgirl humor, he was "sh.e.l.l-y!"), was the first to arrive. One day, despite searching everywhere, it seemed he had escaped for good. To our amazement he turned up about six weeks later-followed by a female! How on earth he had found her, I cannot imagine, since tortoises were not very common in our area. I named her Harriett, and they became an all-but-inseparable pair. I suppose when she was receptive, he would follow her closely; when he got close behind, he withdrew his head and lunged forward to b.u.mp her sh.e.l.l with a loud One day, despite searching everywhere, it seemed he had escaped for good. To our amazement he turned up about six weeks later-followed by a female! How on earth he had found her, I cannot imagine, since tortoises were not very common in our area. I named her Harriett, and they became an all-but-inseparable pair. I suppose when she was receptive, he would follow her closely; when he got close behind, he withdrew his head and lunged forward to b.u.mp her sh.e.l.l with a loud crack. crack.It seemed that he always became particularly amorous when my grandmother was entertaining in the garden at teatime. Then, when she failed to divert their attention, the little group of ladies, despite their Victorian sensibilities, would be riveted as, again and again, Percy struggled to mount the impregnable wall of his beloved's sh.e.l.l, only to fall back as she, fed up with the whole procedure, simply walked away from under him. It's a hard life, being a tortoise! My son rescued two females, with damaged sh.e.l.ls, from the last shipment imported into England. When one died, the other seemed listless, and we thought she might die, too. To our amazement, she was befriended by the small black cat from next door. Day after day we would see him, curled up beside the lonely tortoise in her hutch. Eventually she went off to a colony in Chester Zoo, where she has adapted well. My son rescued two females, with damaged sh.e.l.ls, from the last shipment imported into England. When one died, the other seemed listless, and we thought she might die, too. To our amazement, she was befriended by the small black cat from next door. Day after day we would see him, curled up beside the lonely tortoise in her hutch. Eventually she went off to a colony in Chester Zoo, where she has adapted well.

Formosan Landlocked Salmon (Oncorhynchus masou formosa.n.u.s)

I heard about this fish in 1996 during my first visit to Taiwan. I had gone there at the invitation of Jason Hu, at the time the director of the Government Information Office, responsible for foreign affairs. A father of two children, caring pa.s.sionately for the environment, he felt that a high-profile visit of someone well known to the international conservation community would help him in his efforts to better protect the environment. I was able to have meaningful talks with key decision makers, there was a good deal of positive media coverage, and finally, just before I left the country, I was given an audience with Taiwan's President Lee Teng-hui. heard about this fish in 1996 during my first visit to Taiwan. I had gone there at the invitation of Jason Hu, at the time the director of the Government Information Office, responsible for foreign affairs. A father of two children, caring pa.s.sionately for the environment, he felt that a high-profile visit of someone well known to the international conservation community would help him in his efforts to better protect the environment. I was able to have meaningful talks with key decision makers, there was a good deal of positive media coverage, and finally, just before I left the country, I was given an audience with Taiwan's President Lee Teng-hui.

It was a positive meeting. We talked about animals, the environment, and various conservation issues. I showed him some of the symbols I carry around the world-such as the flight feather of the California condor-and I asked him if he could think of anything I could take away to symbolize a Taiwanese success story. This is when he told me about the fight to save the Formosan landlocked salmon from extinction. I was fascinated by the story, but felt it would not be quite appropriate to travel around with a dried fish, as he suggested!

Survivor from the Ice Age The Formosan salmon became landlocked during the last ice age, trapped in cold mountain streams. It is found only at elevations above five thousand feet in the Chichiawan Stream, where water temperatures can fall below sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit. Studies show that the salmon requires this exact temperature of extremely clean-flowing stream to survive.

The joy of saving a unique species. Dr. Liao Lin-yan, a leading force behind Taiwan's effort to save and restore the Formosan landlocked salmon. (Liao Lin-yan) (Liao Lin-yan) At one time, it was plentiful and was a staple in the diet of the aboriginal people living there, who called it the bunban. But by the end of the last century, due to overfishing and pollution, there were only some four hundred individuals known to exist, making it one of the rarest fish in the world. If it was not to slide into extinction, something would have to be done.

And in the late 1990s, something was was done. A dedicated team from the Shei-pa National Park decided to protect and restore the fish. An important member of this team, Liao Lin-yan (a PhD candidate at the time), is especially committed to the cause. Unfortunately, during my last visit to Taiwan I was not able to meet with Dr. Liao Lin-yan. And as he cannot speak English nor I Chinese, we could not even talk on the telephone. But Kelly Kok, executive director of JGI-Taiwan, talked with him and translated the information he offered. done. A dedicated team from the Shei-pa National Park decided to protect and restore the fish. An important member of this team, Liao Lin-yan (a PhD candidate at the time), is especially committed to the cause. Unfortunately, during my last visit to Taiwan I was not able to meet with Dr. Liao Lin-yan. And as he cannot speak English nor I Chinese, we could not even talk on the telephone. But Kelly Kok, executive director of JGI-Taiwan, talked with him and translated the information he offered.

Liao has loved animals since he was young. He initially wanted to be a veterinarian but was accepted into the department of aquaculture. "It's quite the same thing really," he said. "Fish get sick, too, and instead of helping individual animals, I get to help a whole pond of them!" After graduating, he applied successfully for a job at the Shei-pa National Park.

"Because the Formosan landlocked salmon is a finicky species, needing clean water at the right temperature, and very particular about its diet, trying to restore them to the natural environment is difficult," said Liao, "but our team was determined to make it happen." They racked their brains to think of ways to increase the number of fry, and then spent sleepless nights persuading the young fish to feed. "The trouble is, they prefer live organisms," Liao explained, "but water fleas are difficult to acquire in the mountains and shrimp is not an appropriate choice." And so they had to be trained to eat fish food. Liao described how he made the food float about on the water, looking like live prey. "And once the more daring ones take their bites, the timid ones follow suit," he said.

When Liao began working on the project, the condition of the restoration ponds as a result of frequent typhoons and flooding was appalling-they looked like abandoned pits. And the equipment was inadequate and makeshift. "We really had a hard time back then," Liao recalled. "The ponds were located far up in the mountains, and acquiring the most simple maintenance parts was a task." Nevertheless, gradually they improved conditions.

Risking Their Lives to Save the Salmon And then, in 2004, exceptionally strong typhoons struck Taiwan-and the team, out in the field, had to watch helplessly as the level of the water rose in the ponds, and precious fish were carried away by the floods. They battled to save as many as they could, but it was dangerous work and they were risking their lives-at any moment one of the team could have been swept away by racing floodwater. And not only were they losing fish, but both water and power supplies were cut off. The remaining fish were endangered by leaking tanks and by rising water temperatures. The team brought in an emergency water supply truck. They borrowed ice blocks from local hotels. The hard work of the previous few years had mostly been swept away. "It was a pity," Liao said, "but we can always start all over again."

In fact, because of the disaster, the restoration team realized that the precious fish needed a safer environment, and they decided to establish the Formosan Landlocked Salmon Ecological Center in the Shei-pa National Park. It was not easy to raise the money, but after months of hard work they succeeded. In 2007 the center, with its comprehensive facilities to ensure constant power and water supplies, was complete. It was launched with a big celebration at which a dance troupe from the local elementary school performed traditional dances and sang tribal songs of the Atayal aboriginals. Each guest was given a sapling to plant to symbolize land rehabilitation and the protection of the bunban. "With teamwork, we can help the salmon fry breed in the ecological center and maintain the population at five thousand," said the director of the park.

That celebration launched the first of the center's educational programs, Dialogue with Mother Nature, emphasizing the importance of protecting the environment and protecting endangered species-especially, of course, the "National Treasure Fish," the Formosan landlocked salmon. Over the years since the project began, many scientists have been involved from national universities; the little fish has created a flurry of interest spanning many aspects of its prehistory, ecology, and behavior. The Taiwanese are proud of their unique landlocked salmon and are determined to do their best to protect it.

The Need for Backup Populations Clearly there was a danger that the one population of Formosan landlocked salmon could be wiped out by typhoons or disease, and the recovery team decided it was necessary to try to establish additional populations as backups. After extensive surveys, they found two areas that seemed suitable, in the Szechiehlan and Nanhu Rivers. Dr. Liao told me that some one thousand fish have been released into the new sites. A survey conducted after two years found schools of eighty to ninety salmon in the Szechiehlan River containing second-generation fish; in the Nanhu River, about forty young fish were found.

Thus the outlook for the long-term survival of the Formosan landlocked salmon gradually improved. By 2008, the national parks team had worked for ten years to protect the Chichiawan River Basin area, and the number of salmon there has remained fairly stable, at around two thousand individuals, over the past few years. A big difference from the few hundred that existed at the start of the restoration project.

A Very Special Memory I asked Kelly to contact Liao one more time to see if he could share with us a personal story. He wrote about something that happened when he joined the team in 1999. "The first time I attempted to capture a salmon for artificial insemination, I was very concerned as to whether I would get the right fish-a female that we could successfully inseminate. There were about five hundred wild salmon out in the Qijiawan Creek-how could I be sure that I would get the right one? I faced my task with trepidation and hoped for all the luck I could get."

By then, the team had discovered that the best way to capture a mature salmon was to use fishnets, working at night so that no shadows were cast on the water. On this occasion, Liao was in charge of the group that headed for the creek to cast the nets; another group was waiting in the lab to receive any fish caught. "We cast around for three full hours on that trip," Liao remembered. "Every time we cast the net, we checked our results eagerly." But again and again the nets were empty, and at the end of the three hours they had caught only one salmon, a male. As they were all absolutely exhausted, they decided to call it a night.

"But then," said Liao, "I spotted a female salmon lying near the bank; she was apparently full of eggs. I caught her, and together with the male fish, we rushed back to the lab." The excitement and suspense came through along with the words. "It turned out that my salmon was ready to lay her eggs. All we had to do was gently squeeze them out and inseminate them. There were over six hundred eggs! I was told that it was the most beautiful female salmon they had ever seen. It was truly my lucky fish!"

Because of his work, Liao has had to spend a lot of time away from his home in Keelung, which is a three-hour drive away. But he said that, although his work is hard, "the sight of a freed salmon swimming with ease in the river more than compensates me for my sacrifices." Liao is always reminding everyone that each one of us must do our bit to help protect our planet. "Fish cannot survive in polluted waters," he told me, "but neither can we!" And he speculated that "if the Formosan landlocked salmon becomes extinct, it may be that human beings will eventually disappear from earth as well."

Vancouver Island Marmot (Marmota vancouverensis)

These marmots, about the size of a domestic cat and weighing between five and fifteen pounds, are extraordinarily attractive. With their thick chocolate-brown fur, white muzzles, and engaging expressions, they look just like characters in a Walt Disney cla.s.sic. Historically, they lived on Vancouver Island in the sub-alpine meadows that are created and maintained by avalanches, snow-creep, storms, and fire. Such meadows tend to be rare on Vancouver Island, which is why these marmots have never become more plentiful.

It was not until 1910, when some were killed to provide museum specimens, that the Vancouver Island marmot was recognized by science as a species. After this, confirmed sightings were rare until 1973, when Doug Heard of the University of British Columbia began studying marmot behavior in two colonies. Several years later, local naturalists began systematic population counts. And in 1987, Andrew Bryant began a study that, originally planned as a short-term master's project, has already lasted more than twenty years! It has involved him, deeply, in efforts to prevent the Vancouver marmot from toppling over the brink into oblivion.

Meet Andrew Bryant, Marmot Man In December 2007 I called Andrew, who lives on a small farm near the city of Nanaimo on Vancouver Island, and we talked-about marmots-for a long time. As with so many of the other individuals featured in this book, I longed to sit down with him and have a face-to-face conversation. And in November 2008, I was able to do just that over a quiet lunch at the hotel where I was staying in Vancouver. Originally I had planned to visit the marmots themselves-but it was the wrong time of year, and they were all hibernating. In fact, they hibernate for many months each year. So he brought me a gift of a stuffed toy marmot instead! And in fact, having the chance to sit and talk with the man who has worked so hard to save them was, in a way, even better than seeing the marmots. For he is a man after my own heart, with a great sense of humor, an obvious pa.s.sion for his work, and a deep love for the marmots to which he has devoted so much of his life.

Andrew Bryant has devoted his life work to protecting these enchanting mammals. Shown here with Barbara at Pat Lake, Vancouver Island, British Columbia.(Andrew Bryant) Clear-Cutting on Vancouver Island In the spring, Andrew told me, young marmots, during their "teenage years" (usually when they are two years old), traditionally left their mountaintop homes and traveled to the tops of nearby mountains where they bred and lived for the rest of their lives. But by the time he began his study, years of unregulated clear-cutting of the forests during the 1970 and 1980s had led to a change in marmot behavior. The timber companies, inadvertently, had produced new habitats similar to the marmots' preferred natural one-treeless regions that are open, covered with gra.s.ses and other plants to eat, and with good soil in which the marmots can make their dens.

And so many of the adolescents no longer bothered to journey to the next mountaintop, instead colonizing the clear-cut areas. The additional habitat enabled their population to boom, likely doubling from 150 to 300350 by the end of the decade. "If it didn't influence predator populations, clear-cut logging would likely be beneficial for marmots," Andrew told me.

However, the marmots preferred to use logging roads to move about in their new habitat, which made them easy prey for the many cougars, wolves, and golden eagles that also lived there, especially where the trees had started to grow back, thus providing cover. The rich new areas, Andrew told me, "became 'population sink,' since few of the marmots who moved there survived for long." And so the wild population plummeted. By 1998, there were only about seventy marmots in the wild, and five years later the number had dropped to thirty. Ironically, a contributor to this final decline was the collection of marmots for captive breeding programs-fifty-six wild-born marmots were taken into captivity between 1997 and 2004.

"If It Hadn't Been for the Logging Companies ..."

In the early days of his study, Andrew was heading up the mountains on a nearly daily basis to observe the marmots on the privately owned logging land they inhabited. He would often sign in, at around 3:30 or 4 AM, as "Mr. Marmot, heading up Green Mountain." As the months went by, the loggers became curious as to what he was doing on their mountain in the early hours, and one morning Wayne O'Keefe, a logger who worked for MacMillan Bloedel Limited, decided to drive up and see what "Mr. Marmot" was up to.

"All of the elements were perfect that morning," said Andrew. "I was able to tranquilize a female and tag her, and get a photo of Wayne holding the marmot with his wonderful Day-Glo safety vest and hard hat glistening in the light. The man said, 'Wow, this is cool-you should come down and talk to the guys over lunch.' So I did."

Wayne O'Keefe, a logger who worked for MacMillan Bloedel Limited, holding Iris. This was the moment that led to major changes in logging practice to benefit the Vancouver Island marmot. (Andrew Bryant) (Andrew Bryant) The talk was a big success, and led to his meeting with first the logging foreman, then the woods manager, and finally with Stan Coleman, a highly placed manager within the company. "I found myself in the boardroom of a logging company, armed with photos and slides and maps, and told the man what I thought I knew about marmots and the effects of logging." After listening patiently, Stan asked, "What do you want me to do about it?"

"I told him he could take ethical responsibility for the animals now, or have their demise on his hands when the species is lost," Andrew said. After that meeting, Stan became one of the marmots' greatest advocates, encouraging the company to do all it could to support marmot conservation efforts.

Andrew loves to point out that, while the Vancouver Island marmot was the first species to be officially listed as endangered in Canada, and was also listed as endangered by the IUCN and by the US Fish and Wildlife Service, these listings "ultimately did little or nothing to help marmots-but the love-of-the-landscape by a local woodcutter eventually led to something that did." A donation of a million dollars Canadian helped establish the Marmot Recovery Foundation (MRF), a nonprofit organization to which Andrew continues to serve as scientific adviser.

The lands were later purchased by Weyerhaeuser in 1999 and subsequently resold. Today the marmot habitat is owned by Island Timberlands and Timber West Forests. So far all of the landowners have honored the commitment to marmot protection in the form of ongoing financial support. "And the great irony of it all," Andrew says, "is that if it hadn't been for the logging companies, we never would have gotten started!" He told me that, while logging still continues, there are protected areas now; as the forests regenerate, conservation measures can be implemented.

The Recovery Work Began in Earnest The Marmot Recovery Team estimated that a total population of four to six hundred marmots would be necessary, dispersed in three separate locations on Vancouver Island, to const.i.tute full "recovery" of the species. From 1997 through 2001, the team drew up a recovery and reintroduction plan that included a captive breeding program to be implemented by the Toronto Zoo, Calgary Zoo, the privately owned Mountain View Breeding and Conservation Centre in Langley (near Vancouver), and a specially designed facility constructed at Mount Washington on Vancouver Island. Release sites were selected where the habitat was appropriate and predation less prevalent. The first pups were born in the breeding program in 2000, and the first of these were released into the wild in 2003.

Field observations after release showed that captive-born marmots had retained natural predator-recognition skills, often whistling to alert other marmots when a cougar or wolf approached, or when an eagle flew overhead. In 2004, the team achieved something of a milestone when a captive-born marmot mated with a wild female, and the following year the first litter from a captive-born pair was recorded. They were living in a fully protected natural habitat where an earlier colony had become extinct.

When I met Andrew, he told me that 2008 had been a hugely successful year for the marmots. The captive breeding program had "the largest litter ever recorded-nine pups weaned-and fifty-seven marmots were released into the wild." And eleven litters totaling thirty-three pups were recorded in the wild, most of them from captive-born parents. As of October, there were 190 individuals in captivity and approximately 130 in the wild. "The grand total of 320 marmots is a far cry from the estimated total of 70 individuals in 1998," Andrew said triumphantly. Moreover, these individuals are distributed over a dozen mountains-whereas five years before, no more than five mountains had been occupied.

Each wild pup is tagged, each individual of the population is known-all of them by number, many still by name. And the genetic profile of each individual is known, too. The Marmot Recovery Team is justly proud of the fact that genetic variation has been maintained-that not one allele has been lost since the start of the captive breeding program (although some genetic variability was undoubtedly lost when whole colonies became extinct).

The recovery plan requires captive marmots to be released each year to boost the wild populations until a self-sustaining population of four to six hundred marmots is achieved-which should be sometime during the next fifteen to twenty years, Andrew believes, although he points out that many factors have to be considered in a long-term perspective-such as numbers of predators, continuing support, and global warming. Nevertheless, all in all he remains highly optimistic that the Vancouver Island marmot will be fully restored to its traditional habitats on the mountaintops.

Oprah Winfrey, Franklin, and All the Rest And of course there are the marmots themselves, each with his or her own personality and contribution to make. When Andrew began writing up his data for his degree, his supervisors chastised him for using names instead of numbers to identify individuals. He told me that, for him, names were easier to remember-something I, of course, agree with! He knew the marmots as individuals: "I knew where they lived, I knew what they did, and I knew how to find them," he told me. He named his favorite female Oprah Winfrey, and he knew her for ten years, during which time "she had eleven pups before she was killed, probably by a wolf." Then there was Franklin, who was tagged as a (nameless) pup, monitored for a while, but by the following year had vanished. Five years later he turned up, alive and well, on Mount Franklin-hence his name. "Since then," Andrew told me, "Franklin has sired a whole gaggle of pups."

Andrew is unstinting in his praise of all who have helped make this recovery effort possible. "I had the luxury of some rather tall shoulders to stand on and a large number of supporters. More importantly, without the dedication of a huge and very talented array of people-staff and volunteers-dreams would have remained just that. I can't stress this enough ... it is teamwork teamwork that has given this species a potential future!" that has given this species a potential future!"

But no one has done more to ensure the survival of these delightful creatures than Andrew himself. I asked what kept him going during the past twenty years, through the downtimes when things go wrong He smiled as he answered, simply: "I truly love those little guys. They are real survivors: They have learned to live where few creatures dare."

THANE'S FIELD NOTES

Sumatran Rhino (Dicerorhinus sumatrensi)

It was only hours after his birth that I first laid my eyes on Andalas, the baby Sumatran rhinoceros who was born in fall 2001 at the Cincinnati Zoo. After years of antic.i.p.ating this miraculous birth, I was amazed by how drop-dead cute he was, with his oversize eyes and surprisingly thick red hair. Rhinos are many things, but "cute" is not a typical field marking for the animal. This was the first successful birth of a captive Sumatran rhino in 112 years. Nicknamed the "hairy rhino" for its long red hair, the Sumatran rhino is the most endangered large mammal in captivity. The species is down to fewer than three hundred in the endangered wilds of Malaysia and Indonesia.

This is an animal that has hidden its secrets deep in shadowed forests for a very long time. It has taken a lot of big brains, and even heftier hearts, to understand the ways of this elusive species in the hope of keeping it in our world.

In fact, six years later when the world's third Sumatran rhino was born, the Today Today show sponsored a naming contest. The winner was show sponsored a naming contest. The winner was Harapan, Harapan, which is an Indonesian word for "hope." I can't think of a more fitting name, as "Harry" is indeed a symbol of hope for this beleaguered species. He won all our hearts at the zoo as soon as he began tentatively walking just an hour after his birth. And we had no doubt he would grow to be a big boy, since he nursed every fifteen to thirty minutes for his first few weeks of life. (The growth rate of this seldom doc.u.mented species is astounding: Harry weighed eighty-six pounds at birth, and topped two hundred at four weeks of age. When he's a full-grown adult, he'll weigh about fifteen hundred pounds.) which is an Indonesian word for "hope." I can't think of a more fitting name, as "Harry" is indeed a symbol of hope for this beleaguered species. He won all our hearts at the zoo as soon as he began tentatively walking just an hour after his birth. And we had no doubt he would grow to be a big boy, since he nursed every fifteen to thirty minutes for his first few weeks of life. (The growth rate of this seldom doc.u.mented species is astounding: Harry weighed eighty-six pounds at birth, and topped two hundred at four weeks of age. When he's a full-grown adult, he'll weigh about fifteen hundred pounds.) The saga of how Andalas, Harry, and their sister, Suci, finally came to be born is an excellent example of how challenging captive breeding can be. In 1990, a bold plan to help save the Sumatran rhino was launched by a consortium of American zoos working together with the Indonesian government to form the Sumatran Rhino Trust. The plan was to import rhinos for captive breeding from the areas of forest in South Asia that were slated to be cut down for timber and cropland. Just seven rhinos were shipped to leading American zoos in an attempt to not only breed the species as insurance against extinction, but also raise the public's consciousness to the plight of the wildlife of South Asia.

From the get-go, the captive breeding plan was controversial. Much like when the California condor was taken out of the wild for breeding, there were some conservationists, including those from the Asia-Pacific branch of the World Wildlife Fund, who fought the captures. One of their main concerns was the near-total lack of understanding of the husbandry requirements for this elusive species.

As it turned out, this lack of husbandry knowledge contributed to the deaths of several captive rhinos, which were originally imported in 1990. Figuring out how to care for these surprisingly delicate beasts was much harder than anyone planned. When the rhinos first came to America, everything seemed to be going splendidly. They were eating enormous amounts of timothy hay and alfalfa, and though they are antisocial by nature, it was hoped they would settle in and breed well in zoos like their African rhino cousins.

However, the Sumatran rhino was not a plains rhino, accustomed to digesting gra.s.ses. They come from the secluded reaches of dense tropical rain forests, and their habits and food preferences were little known. So even though they were eating, they were not getting everything they needed from their hay and grain. Soon many of the rhinos brought into zoos were ailing. And by four years later, in 1994, there were only three hairy rhinos left in captivity, all at the Cincinnati Zoo.

Then it came down to a life-altering moment of truth. At that time, in sad and sometimes contentious meetings, zoo veterinarians, keepers, and Zoo Director Ed Maruska discussed what they would do for Ipuh, who had not eaten or stood up in days. He was literally withering away. After much arguing and wrestling with the issues, it was decided that this species was too rare and Ipuh too valuable as a potential breeder to consider euthanasia. However, something had to be done.

And the solution was surprising. The head keeper of the rhinos-a gruff, tattooed rhino of a man named Steve Romo-though not a nutritionist, was the one to solve the puzzle of Ipuh's health. Romo, as he's called at the zoo, put it this way: "I knew from watching Mahatu, our female, waste away on her diet of hay and pellets and die that this did not work for Sumatran rhinos."

Romo told me he learned about the Sumatran rhinos' natural diet in 1984, when the US Zoos sent him to Malaysia to a.s.sist with the first Sumatran rhinos they rescued, Jeram and Eronghe. He remembered that Jeram ate food with "a lot of very sticky sap in the jackfruit ... the same sticky sap that is in ficus." Although jackfruit could not be found in the United States, Romo knew ficus could.

"No one expected Ipuh to survive, including myself," Romo told me. So he ordered some ficus for Ipuh's "last meal." However, when Romo dragged the ficus into the barn and started washing it off, the keeper sitting watch with Ipuh yelled, "Hey, I don't know what you've got, but Ipuh lifted his head for the first time in two days!"

From forty feet away and around a stall door solid enough to contain a male rhino, Ipuh could smell the ficus. And when they brought it to him, Ipuh stood up and began to eat. In fact, he ate it all in just two days and continues to this day to eat fig and ficus species flown in from California in refrigerated boxes. Which also makes the Sumatran rhino by far the world's most expensive animal to feed!

Ipuh, now thirteen years later, remains the only captive breeding male Sumatran rhino in history. He has sired three young, including our beloved Harry, and continues to thrive. And what Romo taught us about rhino nutrition has been put into place across the globe, from the zoos that exhibit Sumatran rhinos to a protected area in Indonesia, where small captive populations are kept on the edge of the preserves.

And to this day a partnership has been underway with the San Diego Zoo, which collects ficus and fig brows and ships them to the Cincinnati Zoo to feed the Sumatran rhinos.

BREEDING M MISHAPS AND M MYSTERIES.

Figuring out how to feed Ipuh was the first mystery to be solved. Figuring out how to successfully breed him with a female was almost as deadly. Every single time keepers put the male and female in the same yard, they fought and chased and screamed and smashed into each other, often until they were bleeding. You can imagine the mayhem outside the rhino yard, as well. I can a.s.sure you that the rhinos weren't the only ones screaming.

So year after year, attempt after attempt, their keepers would intervene and have to use fire hoses to separate them. And this went on for five years, until the Cincinnati Zoo hired a young reproductive physiologist named Terri Roth, who had been working at the Center for Research and Conservation at the National Zoo in Washington, DC. Months pa.s.sed as Terri and her team studied the hormone levels in Emi's urine and feces. Eventually the veterinary technicians conditioned Emi to let them draw her blood and perform daily ultrasound examinations of her ovaries. At last, in 1997, Terri's crew determined that Emi's estrus, or receptive period, was only about twenty-four to thirty-six hours long, so pinpointing it was essential for successful mating.

FIRE H HOSES R READY.

Terri was able to identify the exact day that the keepers should put Emi and Ipuh together for mating. That morning everybody was nervous and excited. And, of course, keepers were stationed with fire hoses on the sides of the yard, as always. But as of that spring morning the fire hoses have been relegated back to the hydrants, because those rhinos put on a surprisingly amicable demonstration of reproduction.

Ipuh tried to breed Emi forty-seven times that day and was never quite successful, but there wasn't a single chase or fight to worry about at all. Twenty-one days later, Terri had the rhinos put together for breeding again, and this time Ipuh was successful. Soon it was determined, to everyone's delight, that Emi was pregnant. However, the challenges were not yet over. Over the next few years, Emi developed a pattern of becoming pregnant, then miscarrying within the first ninety days. She eventually lost five pregnancies between 1997 and 2000, prompting Terri to prescribe a daily oral dose of progesterone, a hormone she knew was commonly used on horses, for Emi's next pregnancy.