by Scott Leslie
Like most members of the 30 strong Amazona genus, this noisy, green-bodied bird, with its scarlet forehead, blue primary (wing) feathers, and white eye-ring, is hard to miss. About 30 centimetres long and weighing in at under 300 grams, the Amazon eats mainly fruit, nuts, and nectar it gathers in the forest canopy. It isn’t fussy, consuming more than 60 varieties of food. Mating for life, the iguaca nests in deep cavities in large trees, especially palo colorado trees, where it lays three to four eggs during the dry season from February to June, when its primary food, the fruit of the sierra palm, is most abundant. The female alone incubates the eggs for about 24 to 28 days until they hatch. Chicks stay in the nest for about two months before fledging.
Although the early indigenous Taino people hunted the amazon as food, their activities had little effect on the bird’s massive population on the island, which may have been as high as a million, or 110 birds per square kilometre, spread throughout the island’s forests and mangroves. It also appears to have lived on the smaller nearby islands of Antigua and Barbuda, as well as those of the Virgin Islands, where it has long since been extirpated.
It wasn’t until Puerto Rico began to be heavily settled by the Spanish incursion in the 18th century that the parrot’s numbers began to plummet (perhaps not coincidentally, this is also when the indigenous Taino people began to decline, devastated by the smallpox brought by the conquering Spaniards). Widespread clearing of the island’s virgin forests for sugar cane, cotton, corn, and rice removed most of the old mature trees the parrot required for nesting. Furthermore, as its natural habitat was destroyed, the bird’s enormous population was forced to forage on the very farms that replaced its native ecosystem just to get enough food to survive, like the Carolina parakeet decades before. This didn’t sit well with the colonizing Spanish farmers. A campaign of extermination was waged against it. If that weren’t enough, parrots of the genus Amazona are superb at mimicking human speech, so capture for the caged-bird trade may have also contributed to the species’ troubles.
In 1972, only 16 birds survived, so the US Fish and Wildlife Service began a captive breeding program to try to boost the species’ numbers. Just three years later, however, the iguaca had reached a low point. Only 13 birds were left on earth. But the breeding program would slowly begin paying dividends, and by 1989 the count went up to nearly 50 individuals, only to be slashed to just 23 birds later the same year as Hurricane Hugo ravaged Puerto Rico. In 2001, thieves stole several adult birds from the aviary where captive breeding was taking place. By 2004, the wild population had become fairly stable at 30 to 35 birds. Today, the species’ stronghold is in the El Yunque National Forest in northeastern Puerto Rico, where its habitat covers a scant 16 square kilometres—just over one-tenth of 1 percent of its original range. Though it is fully protected, a population of about 30 birds means they are at a high risk of extinction. In 2006, some birds were released into the wild in Rio Abajo State Forest, establishing a second wild population for the species.
The good news is that more than half the newly released amazons are surviving, raising hopes that the population can be sustainably increased. This is not an easy task. Although the bird is well protected from human disturbances in its remaining tiny range, and its numbers are being augmented through a captive breeding program, the small population faces a slew of challenges from nature itself. Introduced alien species such as pearly-eyed thrashers (a large songbird) and European honeybees compete with the parrot for natural nesting cavities, and rats prey upon eggs and chicks. And the hard lesson of Hurricane Hugo can’t be ignored: with such a small population, one catastrophic event can wipe out an entire species. The US Fish and Wildlife Service, working with the Puerto Rico government, the US Forest Service, the US Geological Survey, and Mississippi State and North Carolina State Universities, hopes to have two separate wild populations, each with a population of 500 birds, by 2020.
ENIGMATIC OWLET-NIGHTJAR
Unlike parrots—colourful, noisy birds not easily missed when they are around—the owlet-nightjars, a very small family of just nine species, are among the most secretive and cryptically plumaged birds on earth. They are found only in the forests of the Australasian region. As befits their name, all species look like a cross between owls (with their large eyes surrounded by facial disks) and nightjars (with their short, gaping bills; relatively small weak legs and feet; and slender bodies). Strangely enough, recent evidence suggests they may be more closely related to hummingbirds and swifts than to either owls or nightjars. Like many nocturnal birds and other wildlife, there is an air of mystery about owlet-nightjars because they’re active when it’s dark. And one member of the family is particularly mysterious.
The 28-centimetre-long, enigmatic owlet-nightjar of New Caledonia has speckled grey-brown and black feathers; a long tail; short, rounded wings; a wide-gaping bill; and huge eyes for seeing in the dark. It’s thought that the endangered bird, whose legs are longer than other members of its family, may hunt on the ground more often than other owlet-nightjars, which usually make short flights from a perch to capture flying insects. Its habitat is in humid evergreen forests and melaleuca (tea tree) savannahs. Although nobody has ever found a nesting enigmatic owlet-nightjar, the species probably breeds in tree holes. With an estimated population of fewer than 50 individuals, it is among the most endangered of the approximately 10,000 species of birds worldwide.
Located about midway between Australia and Fiji, in the South Pacific (and sitting on the same suboceanic ridge as New Zealand 1,500 kilometres to the south), the French territory of New Caledonia is made up of Grande Terre, a large mountainous island 350 kilometres long by about 60 kilometres wide, plus a few smaller islands. Formerly a chunk of the ancient supercontinent Gondwana, Grande Terre has been separated from other major land masses for 55 million years. Such long isolation has allowed a distinctive fauna and flora to evolve on the island, and many species, like the enigmatic owlet-nightjar, are found nowhere else. And this is indeed an enigmatic living thing: even local people residing in the area where the bird lives apparently have no knowledge of it.
Only two specimens of the bird are known, and it has never been photographed alive. It was first described in 1880 when one accidentally flew into a house in a rural village on Grande Terre. Not seen again for decades, it was thought to be extinct. That is, until there were unconfirmed reports of a dead enigmatic owlet-nightjar found in the 1950s, and another in the 1960s. For decades there had been little else to suggest its continued existence. Then, on November 5, 1998, professional ornithologists Jonathan Ekstrom and Joe Tobias of BirdLife International watched what appeared to be an enigmatic owlet-nightjar hunting insects as it flew in and out of the woods along a dirt road at dusk in Grande Terre’s Riviere Ni Valley. Although nearly a week of further searching failed to find the bird, the credibility of the observers, who were sure of what they saw, meant the possibility of the species’ existence simply couldn’t be ignored. Currently listed as critically endangered on the IUCN Red List, it is not, as far as we know, yet extinct.
In a happy coincidence, the area where the bird was seen in 1998 already lies within a 7,500-hectare protected area, so at least here it should be safe in its habitat. Other than continued searching to find the species, both through organized surveys and by educating local people about the bird and asking them to report any sightings, there is little else that can be done to ensure its survival. However, New Caledonia’s Grande Terre island has a central mountain range running its length, with five peaks over 1,500 metres high. Much of this area is inaccessible and poorly explored. Biologists are hopeful that additional populations of the enigmatic owlet-nightjar might be found here in the future.
3. Darwin wasn’t the first person to propose evolution. His grandfather Erasmus Darwin, among others, did earlier, but Charles, along with Alfred Russel Wallace, who came to the same conclusions independently, was the first to show how it worked through natural selection.
4. In fact, Mo
zart had a pet European starling (closely related to the Bali bird) that he taught to speak and to mimic his music. He eulogized it in a short poem when it died.
5. A similar situation exists in the depopulated demilitarized zone between North and South Korea, where scores of otherwise endangered species thrive in the half-century-long absence of human activities.
6. The toucans of South America also have large bills but aren’t closely related. They do live in similar habitats and eat the same kinds of food, however, illustrating how nature arrives at similar solutions for adapting to similar ecological niches thousands of kilometres apart—a concept known as convergent evolution.
7. Fred Bodsworth, Last of the Curlews (London: Longmans, Green, 1955), 9.
8. The North American Plains Indians knew a good dance when they saw one. One of their most familiar rites is the prairie chicken dance. Outfitted in ceremonial dress, men belonging to Cree, Blackfoot, Lakota, and other tribes have performed it for centuries, dancing in circles, stamping the ground, bowing, and turning. They imitate in honour of the mating display of male prairie chickens, whose own rite is as old as the plains themselves.
RAVAGED AND RARE: REPTILES
Some endangered species fight a real uphill battle for good PR. Let’s face it, if you’re ugly—and in the eyes of many beholders, reptiles aren’t the most lovable things imaginable—it’s going to be tough. After all, many of them creep or slither along the ground and possess a scaly, toothy, dragon-like appearance. Moreover, we seem to tar them all with the brush of nastiness, owing to the usually undeserved reputations of a few; the man-eating myth of the crocodilians and the belief that most snakes are venomous come to mind. When you add their cold-bloodedness, and the typically forbidding places they inhabit, it comes as no surprise that it’s harder to engender support for their protection. The exceptions, of course, are the generally more appealing turtles, which nevertheless are widely endangered as well. Reptiles need good PR fast. Of the 3,000 or so assessed by the IUCN, 664 are threatened with extinction.
PHILIPPINES CROCODILE
Crocodiles have been around in one form or another since the age of dinosaurs. Some 65 million years ago, they survived the Cretaceous-Tertiary extinction event. This catastrophe, which killed off 65 percent of all species on earth, was likely caused by a 15-kilometre-wide asteroid slamming into the earth at 70,000
kilometres per hour, ringing it like a bell with a force equal to one billion Hiroshima bombs. Tyrannosaurus rex, triceratops, and the rest of the dinosaur pack perished, marking the end of their 160-million-year reign on the planet. Somehow crocodiles managed to squeak through. Although such survival skills in the past can’t be argued, they may have less luck surviving the planet’s current extinction event: the one being waged on the natural world by us.
The endemic Philippine crocodile is the rarest species of crocodilian in the world (a distinction for which it barely nudges out the critically endangered Chinese alligator of the dammed, dredged, and heavily polluted Yangtze River). Once found widely across the massive Philippines Archipelago, today fewer than 100 mature animals survive in a few scattered locations, most of them in one national park. An exploding human population, dynamite fishing, wetland drainage, habitat destruction for agriculture, and commercial poaching for crocodile skins have all taken their toll on the critically imperilled reptile.
The Philippine species is one of the smallest of the 14 crocodiles found worldwide. It grows to an average of only about two to two and a half metres long and weighs in at just 15 kilograms. Owing to its small size and relatively non-aggressive nature, it hardly fits the stereotype of a man-eater and isn’t considered particularly dangerous by those who know the animal. Its diet is made up of fish, snakes, wading birds, pigs, civet cats, and the occasional domestic dog, while hatchlings eat everything from dragonflies to small fish. Females build a mound nest on a riverbank (sometimes they nest in holes) and lay about 20 eggs, which they incubate for over two months. The species also displays motherly care of her newly hatched young, a trait common to all crocodiles.
Largely a freshwater species, this rare croc lives in streams, creeks, rivers, lakes, and wetlands from sea level well up into the mountains, as high as 850 metres. It’s also known to swim through salt water when it’s moving from one freshwater creek to another. When it does, it crosses paths with the imposing saltwater crocodile species, which, at up to seven metres long and 1,000 kilograms, is the world’s biggest reptile. Could this occasional commingling with its giant cousin be one of the reasons for the Philippine crocodile’s current predicament? Is it possible that much of the historical persecution of the smaller species has its roots in a chronic case of mistaken identity? Given the significant size difference between the two species, locals have long mistakenly thought the Philippines crocodiles they saw were actually the young of the much-feared saltwater species. They killed them accordingly.
There was little interest in the Philippines crocodile until 1999, when one was found on the large island of Luzon, where it was thought to be extinct. This single, young animal, named Isabela for the provincial territory where she was found, was taken into captivity by Crocodile Rehabilitation Observance and Conservation (CROC), a project run by Filipino and Dutch conservationists, a local university, and the local government. After growing to maturity in captivity, Isabela was released back into the wild in 2007. By the time of her release, she had become somewhat of a media darling in the Philippines, a flag-bearer for her species who defied the odds and won the uphill battle for PR. Even so, Philippine crocodiles remained dangerously close to extinction.
The species wasn’t given any actual legal protection by the national government until 2001, after which killing one would get you a minimum of six years in jail and/or a 100,000 pesos fine (about US$2,100). Beyond that step—admittedly an important one—the Philippines government showed little interest in helping the species to actually recover. That job was left in the hands of private and local organizations such as CROC.
Through public education and awareness campaigns, and by empowering local communities in the areas where the crocodiles survive, the Mabuwaya Foundation (which spearheaded CROC) has created three sanctuaries to protect the endangered reptile. What’s more, in the summer of 2009, the foundation released 50 captive-bred subadults into promising lake habitat within the Philippines’ largest protected area, Northern Sierra Madre National Park, on Luzon. The hope is that these animals will pioneer a self-sustaining wild population by 2012. Ten of them have been fitted with radio transmitters to monitor their movements and so that we can gain a better understanding of the species’ natural history. Such information will be used in future conservation and reintroductions. In the hope of generating income for the local economy through ecotourism, nearby communities are taking pride in their stewardship of one of the world’s rarest species. They are training guides and building local facilities for croc-watching, birdwatching, and other nature activities.
In addition to the small wild population, hundreds of captive Philippines crocodiles are being reared in breeding facilities both within the country and outside it. Although there haven’t been any large-scale introductions into the wild aside from the one mentioned, these captive crocodiles are a “gene bank” for future reintroductions. Perhaps one little crocodile named Isabela has started a revolution.
LA GOMERA GIANT LIZARD
Sporting a name that’s every bit as intimidating as a crocodile’s, the critically endangered La Gomera giant lizard lives on one of the most sparsely populated of the seven Canary Islands, Spanish outliers located in the Atlantic Ocean about 100 kilometres off the coast of Morocco. The island of La Gomera is 370 square kilometres of rugged, volcanic-formed lava chimneys, mountains, and deep valleys—
an ideal place for lizards. Unfortunately for lizards, it’s also been home to humans for millennia. People brought a hearty appetite for the easy-to-catch, slow-moving animals, as well as agriculture, grazing animals, and
marauding rats and cats. It’s not surprising that this half-metre-long lizard (not exactly a giant, despite its name), had all but disappeared. It was thought to be extinct for the last 500 years—that is, until the very end of the 20th century. Then, encouraged by the Lazarus-like reappearance in 1974 and 1996 of other presumed extinct giant lizards on El Hierro and Tenerife Islands, also in the Canaries, Spanish biologists began searching La Gomera. In 1999, they found a tiny surviving population of just six animals.
Desperate to escape the cats that preyed upon them, the last six lizards had been relegated to about a hectare of sparsely vegetated, crumbling rock ledge. They could only be reached on climbing ropes. Once found across the islands in large numbers—they had been abundant enough to be hunted, after all—the species was reduced to literally hanging on to the edge of a cliff. For centuries, nobody on the island knew of their existence.
Though the lizard’s numbers may have declined historically owing to habitat destruction and hunting, today La Gomera is an unspoiled, rugged island, whose population of rural people is largely isolated from the rest of the world. Like natural evolution, cultural evolution can be very inventive on isolated islands; to wit, the unique whistled language invented by the people of La Gomera. Had the discovery of the giant lizard been made by La Gomeran natives instead of Spanish scientists from the mainland, news of the find might have echoed throughout the valleys of the island by means of Silbo Gomero, one of the few whistled languages anywhere. Known since Roman times, Silbo Gomero was probably developed by early shepherds who had to communicate across valleys and steep ravines. It works by mimicking the sound of the spoken language (Spanish nowadays, of course) and can convey information in complete sentences that can travel for several kilometres over the landscape. Though now largely replaced by the much less romantic cellphone, El Silbo lives on in La Gomera.