A Summer With Man’s Closest Living Relatives

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Tchimpounga at Sunset

In college, I fell in love with wildlife medicine and conservation. It’s a tough field to get into though, and at the time I didn’t know if I was really cut out for it. That all changed when I landed the internship of a lifetime with the Jane Goodall Institute at Tchimpounga Chimpanzee Sanctuary in the Republic of Congo. This internship was part of Dr. Robin Radcliffe’s One Health course in partnership with Engaged Cornell and it was the first time it was ever offered. I was the first undergraduate student from Cornell to intern with the Jane Goodall Institute (JGI) in Congo, so I really did not know what to expect. The internship was set up to pair a veterinary student with an undergraduate student to collaborate on a project for the summer. Unfortunately, my partner had a last minute complication and was unable to travel with me. I found this out the same day we were set to travel, just as I was about to catch my flight.

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Camila in the Noumbi River in Conkouati-Douli National park en route to a Mandrill release site

Needless to say, this was not the ideal way to start off my experience in Congo and I would be lying if I said my anxiety wasn’t at an all time high at the thought of having the entire project relying on me. I learned right off the bat that no amount of planning will ever prepare you for a field experience like this. Things can change on the fly so you have to be flexible and roll with the punches. The original project consisted of looking at the cortisol levels of chimpanzees to evaluate at which point in their rehabilitation process they were most stressed. This data would then be used to improve husbandry and rehabilitation practices. This wasn’t exactly what I ended up doing during my time at the sanctuary but I still go a lot out of the experience. In the end, I ended up assisting in several mini projects such as taking measurements of chimpanzees to create a morphometric index to establish malnutrition parameters, taking water cultures of all the sanctuary’s faucets to ensure the water given to the chimps was properly sanitized, shadowing Dr. Rebeca Atencia while she treated several chimpanzee patients and more. I even got to observe a collaring procedure on a Mandrill in the middle of Conkouati Douli National Park–quite literally in the middle of the jungle!

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Working in the lab with the staff at JGI

Despite the incredible experience I ended up having, the first two weeks in Congo were quite difficult for me; I was alone, inexperienced, and thousands of miles away from home. I considered going home several times. Being the first student they had ever hosted only further complicated the situation as there was not a fully established program yet. However, I wasn’t about to let the opportunity of a lifetime go to waste, so I tried to make the best of the situation. I had to push myself out of my comfort zone like never before. I taught myself many things, such as how to work a portable autoclave, how to make my own cell culture medium, and even some basic microbiology from old books the vet kept in the lab. Another big challenge I faced was communicating with the sanctuary staff. This was difficult because not many of them spoke English, so I had to overcome a cultural and language barrier. Thankfully, I was somewhat proficient in French, and this helped me to communicate with my Congolese colleagues. 

Despite all the personal challenges, the good definitely outweighed the bad. The friendships I made, both human and non-human, were what got me through those initial tough times. Every morning I would start my day by walking around the sanctuary to say good morning to the chimps. In time, I came to know every single one by name and learn about their unique personalities. Some of the chimps I connected to most were Alex, Mbebo, Betou, Lemba, Lounama, Falero (the baby of the bunch), and my favorite gal, Youbi. 

Drawing of Betou relaxing

These animals taught me so much about human instinct, and the more time I spent with them, the more I realized just how much they have in common with us. I learned how incredibly intelligent they really are, how cruel they can be, but also how kind and nurturing, not to mention hilarious.  The more time I spent with these animals the more it confirmed that wildlife/conservation medicine was the field for me. Though I still questioned if I had what it took, I got my answer one night when Youbi came into my life. 

Drawing of Camila and Youbi

One evening, the sanctuary was on high alert as we were to receive a new chimp from another sanctuary. This was Youbi. I remember the first time I saw her, she looked so tiny and fragile, could barely move and was basically a bag of bones. She was severely malnourished and anemic, as we soon found out. Youbi required an emergency blood transfusion. Dr. Rebeca Atencia, the head veterinarian selected Tchamaka as the donor, a strong, beautiful male chimp that lived at the sanctuary. We gave Youbi the transfusion, but were unable to anesthetize her fearing she wouldn’t wake up from anesthesia. Instead, some of the staff and I had to hold her down using our own strength. Chimpanzees are about four times stronger than the average person, so despite the extreme level of malnutrition/weakness she was in, it still took all the strength I had, plus that of another staff member to subdue Youbi while she received the transfusion. That transfusion worked wonders! It was as if with every drop of blood, Youbi regained a little bit of life back. For the next couple of days, I was tasked with feeding her, giving her her medicine, and providing enrichment. We would inject protein powder and iron supplements into all her food and after a few days she had the strength to move about the room.

Youbi and I formed a bond like no other I have ever experienced. Being with her and taking part in her rehabilitation made me realize that I definitely have what it takes to thrive in this field. It gave me a renowned sense of purpose and I knew then that I had found my calling. This was an experience I will never forget. I will always treasure the memories of my time in Congo.  I am so thankful for having had this opportunity.

 

Change of Summer Plans: from Field Work to Virtual Teaching

Laci leading the Great Ape Team through their disaster preparedness scenario via Zoom

As an aspiring veterinarian interested in zoological medicine, I have tried my best to take advantage of all zoo and wildlife opportunities available to me. When I think about the kind of veterinary career I want to have, it is one where I can combine my interests in conservation, international travel and cultural immersion. For this reason, I am sure you can imagine my excitement when back in January, I was accepted to work at the Jane Goodall Institute (JGI) in Uganda for the summer of 2020. For eight weeks this summer, I would have been assisting the JGI team with disease monitoring in habituated chimpanzee populations, transmission analysis of infectious diseases between humans and chimpanzees, and community awareness. My proposed project aimed to reduce disease transmission risk for humans and wild-habituated chimpanzees in Kibale National Park to improve public health and conserve this endangered population of chimpanzees. I was particularly excited for this opportunity because it would have been my first veterinary experience that encompassed the topic of conservation with communities. Conservation with communities is an approach to conservation that includes the local people in an effort to make the conservation initiatives more sustainable. It is a concept that I am passionate about because I believe that involving the local community in conservation initiatives helps to better sustain these initiatives. 

Like many other students whose summer experiences were cancelled due to the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic, I was devastated. Not only would I no longer get to participate in this once in a lifetime experience, but also I did not have any other summer opportunities lined up. Having traveled back home once classes went virtual, I was no longer able to work my hospital job as a student technician at the Wildlife Health Center and many local practices were not accepting new hires for safety reasons. As a result, I spent my first couple of weeks back home scrambling for summer experiences. That is, until one of my professors reached out to me about an opportunity to become a teaching assistant for his three-week virtual summer course on conservation. The course was offered through Cornell University College of Veterinary Medicine for credit and geared towards high school students. This would be the first time that the course would be virtual. Something I really enjoyed throughout my undergraduate career was teaching so I happily accepted the position.In undergrad, I gained teaching experience mainly through planning and leading educational activities through the student run organizations I was a part of, but this would be different. 

As a teaching assistant I had a lot of responsibilities. I was responsible for managing and organizing the course website, securing guest lecturers, managing discussion boards, creating and grading quizzes, developing course feedback surveys and providing feedback on and grading final projects among many other responsibilities. I was even responsible for creating and leading my own lectures and labs. Some of the topics I gave lectures on were the role of veterinarians in zoos, zoonotic diseases of companion animals, disease transmission at the wildlife-livestock interface and illegal wildlife trade. I was even able to integrate the concept of conservation with communities into some of my lectures! 

Laci presenting her lecture on African Penguin Conservation via Panopto

One of the activities I enjoyed leading the most was on disaster preparedness in a zoo setting. I worked closely with Dr. Abou-Madi to put this activity together which tasked students with acting as a cohesive team to build the different parts of a disaster prevention plan. Following a presentation on disaster preparedness and prevention, students were divided into teams each with a different animal grouping and their job was to look at all the different aspects that are necessary to best prepare and act quickly in the midst of a tropical storm to protect the animals in their grouping. The teams were also tasked with addressing the basic medical needs of the animals they were assigned to as part of their plan. For example, one student group had Komodo dragons as their animal grouping and some of the Komodo dragons had spinal lesions caused by salmonella while others were intermittent shedders of salmonella. In order to come up with an effective disaster prevention plan, students were encouraged to consider how they would secure and care for the animals during and after the storm hits, decide where to best locate the animals, and how to distribute the animals in the selected shelter among many other considerations. 

I did not quite know what I signed up for when I agreed to be a teaching assistant for the course, but I am so glad I did! Throughout my time as a teaching assistant, I gained organizational skills such as carrying out administrative tasks, and strategic planning and decision making. I also further developed my communication skills through teaching, interacting with students and through collaborating with the rest of the core course planning team. I was also able to develop critical thinking skills through coming up with creative ways to make virtual lectures and labs interactive and troubleshooting technical difficulties. Becoming a teaching assistant was a really great way to develop my soft skills and is an experience I highly recommend to other veterinary students. 


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Laci Taylor, class of 2022, is a DVM student at Cornell University College of Veterinary Medicine. She is interested in wildlife and aquatic medicine and hopes to make a global impact as a wildlife veterinarian. Laci hopes to promote biodiversity through rehabilitation and conservation – fields that serve as pathways for understanding many pertinent issues today from the transmission of zoonotic diseases which affect public health, to restoring endangered species.

Holy Fledgelings, Batman!

Momma robin sits on her nest at night (left), Escape is futile as a baby tries to see what’s beyond the nest (middle), Momma robin feeding her fledged bird (right)

My mother, a veterinarian with a passion for birds, is my biggest inspiration! She definitely passed on that passion to me.  Growing up in suburbia there was always an injured bird that needed care, and my house during the springtime quickly became rehabber central.  I remember waking up with my mom every few hours to feed the hungry birds and to rewarm the bottles.  I even remember my mom trying to use puppets to feed the birds with some mild success.  There are a lot of things that my mom wished our neighbors and community had known so we could have had fewer patients. I hope to share some of our baby bird tips and tricks with you here! 

Despite all this snow on the ground we are already dreaming of spring—the warm weather, the green trees, and all those baby birds practicing their flying (key word: practicing).  The bird life cycle has several stages: eggs, hatchlings, nestlings, fledgelings, juveniles, and adults.  The hatchling and nestling stages are the equivalent of human infant and toddler stages, respectively.  Fledgelings are like the tweens and teens of the bird world with juveniles encountering the quarter-life crisis.  When a bird is a fledgeling, just like a teen, they start to leave the nest and to spread their wings.  During springtime, these birds tend to give people a big scare. People try to help birds struggling to fly, but they don’t know exactly what to do. Sometimes people see these birds and think they’re helpless and will even take these birds in their houses to “nurse them back to health”.  We all want to do what’s best for our wildlife, so here are some recommendations for what to do when you find a baby bird out of the nest.

2 hatchlings at 1-2 days old

If you see a hatchling bird out of the nest, the best thing you can do is to find the nest. If there are multiple nests in the area, find the one with babies that are closest to the hatchling in age, i.e. they look the same, and gently place the baby back in.  These babies cannot survive outside of the nest on their own.  The difficulty with these babies is that often the parents push them out of the nest. If this happens, there is probably a problem with the baby that we cannot see, or the parents realize they cannot care for all of the eggs.  Putting them back is the best thing you can do for them at this age.

If you see a nestling bird out of the nest, these birds are more independent than the hatchlings but still cannot survive outside of the nest.

Left: nestlings sleeping (5 days old) Right: nestlings begging for food (6 days old)

So once again, find their nest and gently place them back in it.  If these birds are repeatedly found outside of the nest again, it can be for a multitude of reasons including a nest that’s too small, an underlying health problem (for example, the baby may be failing to thrive), or because the baby decided to jump out and spread their wings (or lack thereof). Continuing to put them back in the nest is still the best policy here.

Fledgelings at 12 days old have developed down feathers and are nearly ready to leave

Finally, if you see a fledgeling bird, here’s what to do: these are the most common baby birds that you will find on the ground.Fledgelings (as the name implies) are trying to fledge—develop wing feathers and fly, and therefore leave the nest.  The ability to fly requires good muscle strength and lots of practice, so these birds will continuously hop out of the nest and try to fly…and fall…and try again…and fall.  These birds tend to spend several days on the ground before they’re able to get back up in a tree or in a nest.  So, what do you do? If there are no obvious injuries and no signs of cats (or other predators) in the area, just leave them alone and let nature take its course. The parents are probably keeping an eye on them from afar and are feeding them when necessary so there is no need to provide them with any food.  If there are predators around, you should try to get the baby onto a higher surface like a shrub or back into its nest, if possible.  If the predator is your own outdoor pet, try bringing them inside until the birds are capable of flight.

One of the biggest misconceptions about interacting with baby birds is that once you touch a baby bird, the parents will smell you on the baby and they won’t take care of it after that.  This is false as most birds don’t have a sense of smell and most parents are very happy to have their babies back in the nest. If at any point you find an injured bird (they’re actively bleeding, have an obviously broken wing, are hopping in a circle with a head tilt, etc.) you can always contact your local wildlife rehabber for assistance. So, to summarize: The cardinal rule when finding a baby bird is: when in doubt, put it back in the nest (nestlings and hatchlings) or leave it alone (fledgelings). Stay warm and get Egg-cited for spring!


About Miranda Senft 

Miranda Senft is a current 3rd year veterinary student at Cornell University College of Veterinary Medicine.  She loves small animal and exotics emergency medicine and hopes to become a board-certified criticalist after graduating.  She grew up with a mother who has a Master’s degree in Avian Science (and a DVM) so she has always had a passion for birds and grew up rehabbing numerous wild birds brought to the animal hospital.  She currently lives in Ithaca, loves going birding, and helps out occasionally with mist netting for research projects.  She has a beagle named Ralphie, a cat named Webster, and a very independent and sassy Canary-Winged Parakeet named Macaroni.

Primate Conservation in the Pearl of Africa

A group of baboons at Kibale National Park make behavioral observation easy.

My sophomore year of undergrad at Cornell, I applied on a whim to Hunter College’s winter break study abroad program with Dr. Jessica Rothman, a primatologist in the Anthropology Department at Hunter. I have been passionate about wildlife since childhood.  Even as a toddler, I would stare unblinkingly at my safari motion lamp, watching the elephants, giraffes, and lions strut in an endless loop and dreaming of the day that I would see them for myself. When I was admitted into the program, my dream was coming true. 

Tito, a habituated chimpanzee in Kibale National Park, takes advantage of a photo op.

It’s no secret that there is a danger in setting high expectations. In the weeks leading up to my 2018 trip to Uganda, I had ample time to question whether my study abroad experience could possibly live up to my hopes. And I can’t count the number of times I screamed at the television in horror in the week before my trip, as the Weather Channel heralded the arrival of Winter Storm Grayson, the bomb cyclone that slammed the East Coast two days before my departure from JFK Airport. Pre-trip jitters aside, I can say with tremendous gratitude that this trip managed to exceed my already sky high expectations. This experience lent me an educated view of the nuanced complexities of conservation. 

 The course, Tropical Forest Conservation, was primarily geared towards field research, so we spent time learning how to identify flora and fauna in the forest, how to track primates as they moved throughout the forest, and how to best observe them in Kibale National Park. This first leg of the trip allowed me to see a range of species in their natural habitats and to see for myself the ecological diversity present in the park that makes its protection essential. I also gained a better understanding of the unique opportunities and challenges associated with field work. 

The second leg of the trip in Queen Elizabeth Park consisted of game drives, during which we saw lions, elephants, warthogs, hippos, African buffalo, and more. Seeing these species for myself was definitely among my favorite parts of the trip. However, throughout the course, we also heard lectures from various conservation workers in Uganda, from researchers to members of the Uganda Wildlife Authority. I had the chance to hear firsthand about some of the challenges of conservation and to understand the complexities of achieving lasting change. Before this course, I saw the challenges to conservation as being quite simple. I imagined those who would seek to harm animals as movie-style villains, all but swathed in black capes. The narrative is certainly riddled with villainy, but I now know just how many complicating factors there are. Many people in Uganda have complex relationships with their native wildlife because the animals are inadvertently hindering their way of life. A single elephant can consume in one night the crops that would feed a family for a year. Wild animals can at times pose a threat to the livelihoods of local people, so asking them to help conserve their wildlife is more complicated than I had initially thought.

Elephants at Queen Elizabeth National Park enjoy a dip.

I was so intrigued by the challenges to conservation that months after my trip, I interviewed Dr. Colin Chapman, a professor in the Anthropology Department at McGill University, Canada Research Chair in Primate Ecology and Conservation, and the head of the Kibale Monkey Project in Uganda about his conservation and humanitarian work. Dr. Chapman’s extensive research work around the globe has lent him a unique perspective on how to best promote an interest in conservation. He told me that “Almost everywhere the local people want to conserve. There’s a real pride in their forests and their animals. When they don’t conserve, it’s mostly because they feel they don’t have a choice. If you have to cut down a tree to send your children to school, what’s your choice? I think that’s the thing that I’ve found around the world and I find it really positive. If we can provide things that make life a little bit easier, it’s basically going to mean that there’s a big will to conserve.” My own experience in Uganda led me to similar conclusions. Dr. Chapman’s efforts to improve park-people interactions have already yielded positive results. (For more information, I recommend visiting Dr. Chapman’s website: http://www.chapmancolin.com/ ). 

The issues surrounding conservation are so multi-faceted, they will require an equally complex approach to solving them. My trip to Uganda and the conversations that ensued were a tremendous learning experience for me. Through my different conservation and wildlife medicine related experiences, I have met so many different people with different backgrounds, opinions, and skill sets. What unifies them is a passion for conservation and a drive to support animal populations and their environment, and, in doing so, better the human experience. 

 


Colleen Sorge, class of 2024, is a Cornell DVM student from Long Island, NY. She obtained her undergraduate degree in Animal Science from Cornell University in 2020. She has a wide range of interests within the veterinary field, including both small animal and wildlife medicine. 

 

Lessons from Wolf Tracking in the Pacific Northwest

Wild wolf caught on trail camera.

Few species have as storied a history with humans as the wolf. From an early age, I was fascinated by their prehistoric domestication and their more recent exterminations and reintroductions. I devoured every book about wolves I could find, and learned about the 1995 reintroduction of wolves into Yellowstone National Park. I found it so fascinating that one species could have such an extensive impact on the landscape. The wolves pushed elk from their comfortable hangouts on river banks, allowing stream flora to build up, and a greater variety of birds to make their homes on the banks. Wolves’ presence went so far as to have a physical effect on the topography of the area, and even brought back the quaking aspen tree from the brink of extinction! Learning these facts made me realize how important wolves are to their ecosystems as a keystone species, and kindled my desire to go out and explore the land they were changing.  

As a high school freshman already thinking about a career working with animals, I took part in a wolf tracking summer camp for teenagers run by Wilderness Awareness School, based in Washington State (quite a distance away from my home in New Jersey). At this camp we searched for signs of wildlife during the day on field expeditions, and came back in the afternoon to hit our mobile library to research our observations. Our instructors drilled us in subjects like paw pad morphology, bird markings, and common behaviors of local wildlife. We developed our deductive reasoning skills by transforming our observations on the ground into conclusions about the ecosystem’s structure. Every time we thought we’d found a sign of the area’s resident wolf pack, we’d mark it down on our map. By the end of the camp we had a pretty good idea of its recent activities. We left a trail camera at one of their high activity sites, and captured a video of an adult wolf accompanied by that year’s new litter of pups! Not only was it rewarding to see such elusive animals on our own cameras, but also we were the first observers to confirm that the pack had whelped that year. We were able to provide that information to Washington’s state scientist.

Front and hind track from a wolf in the cascade mountains.

There I also learned about the current challenges that occur when the lives of wolves and people intersect. In Washington and Idaho where wolves travel down from Canada and up from their reintroduction point in Yellowstone, they live on the same land where cattle farmers raise free range beef. Needless to say, this creates a complex intersection of values. Cattle farmers depend on their livestock for their livelihoods. Ranchers and their communities are concerned that wolves will harm that livelihood by killing their cattle instead of elusive deer. Whether it was seeing bumper stickers that said “smoke a pack a day” next to a picture of a wolf’s head, or hearing stories about hunters shouting at the top of the lungs that all wolves need to go to hell, I learned quickly that people felt strongly about this issue. As a future veterinarian and scientist, I understand the need for veterinarians to protect and help both cattle and wolves, supporting farmers and healthy ecosystems. 

Before attending this program, I didn’t understand how reintroducing wolves could have any negative impacts. Through my experience at Wilderness Awareness School I came to appreciate the validity of the concerns for reintroduction. Even if reintroducing wolves benefits the overall ecosystem, we cannot ignore the effects they have on ranchers’ livelihoods. Whether it’s protecting a herd of cattle, or treating an injured wolf, veterinarians can help innovate solutions to benefit all animals, wild and domestic. 


Patrick Liu, class of 2024, is a Cornell DVM student. He graduated with a degree in chemistry from Rutgers University in 2020, and plans to pursue internships and residencies after veterinary school. Apart from his love for horses, he has a strong interest in ecological research and wildlife and conservation medicine. 

 

 

Moving Forward with Wildlife

I am truly fascinated by the interconnectedness of our world. One of the reasons that I am so passionate about wildlife medicine and conservation is because it spans the dimensions of human, non-human animal, and environmental wellbeing. I could spend hours avidly discussing all of the intricate connections between wildlife and human health.

The COVID-19 pandemic is no exception to the fact that everything in the world is deeply intertwined. Over the last few weeks, I’ve had conversations with my friends and colleagues about issues such as social inequality, healthcare, community, societal values, epidemiology, history, new developments, and the list goes on. These recent current events also reveal an important intersection between human and wildlife health and, in doing so, provide an impetus for us to take responsibility for the wellbeing of wildlife and the environment.

Elephants in Tanzania (Loxodonta africana)

There is a great deal of evidence that suggests that many emerging human diseases, including this current pandemic, are linked to our interactions with wildlife. The CDC estimates that 6 out of every 10 established infections and 3 out of every 4 new or emerging infections are from non-human animals. In addition to the current pandemic, past health crises, such as HIV and Ebola, were also linked to the wildlife trade. The goal of this article is not to thoroughly evaluate the evidence for that connection, but rather to discuss its consequences. If you would like to learn more about the relationship between wildlife and emerging human diseases, check out the resources at the end of this article.

If we acknowledge that potentially dangerous emerging diseases can often be linked to our interactions with wildlife, then we must ask — what do we do about it? For the most part, I hear two responses. One — support wildlife health and reduce harmful interactions between humans and other animals. Two — get rid of wildlife. You might guess that I would personally choose option one. I believe that every person has many reasons to do the same.

We rely on wildlife health more than we often acknowledge, or maybe would even like to admit. Wildlife health is imperative for healthy ecosystems and we rely on those ecosystems for life itself. Think big — oxygen, food security, water, climate stability, and more. Healthy ecosystems also provide enormous economic stimulation through massive industries such as transportation, shipping, recreation, and many more. We continue to uncover potential medications from areas that have persistent biodiversity, such as alternatives to opioids and possible new sources of antibiotics. We need healthy ecosystems all over the world to support and enable us to continue living on this planet. Unfortunately, those ecosystems and the inhabiting wildlife species are threatened from many directions.

Lemon shark off of South Caicos, Turks & Caicos Islands (Negaprion brevirostris)

Species that once had the space to exist without interacting with humans are now forced into contact with human communities after their habitats are continuously destroyed and fragmented. Climate change leads to shifting geographic ranges leading to species appearing in new locations around people that have never been exposed to them before. Many species become endangered or extinct every year, all representing possible losses for unforeseen discoveries. Devastating abuse is committed against animals through the wildlife trade all across the world. Those wildlife trade markets also pose a major risk to human health by exposing a wide variety of stressed, immunocompromised animals to each other and humans in tight quarters, sometimes being ingested and in other cases begin transported all across the world. The more we push these animals to the brink, the more at risk we become — to disease, climate instability, food insecurity, loss of biodiversity, and more.

I have good news though. Every single person has the potential to be a conservationist. That means you. Each one of us has our own unique set of perspectives and skills that can be wielded to improve the state of wildlife and ecosystem health, and therefore environmental and human wellbeing across the world. The most important thing to know is that we all have something to offer.

New Zealand fur seal on the South Island of New Zealand (Arctocephalus forsteri)

If you have training, consider how you might apply that knowledge to offer a new solution. Successful communication takes on infinite forms — use your method to spread awareness, organize, and build ideas together. We can communicate through visual art, music, words, writing, and so on. Find your strength and implement it. Be mindful of what you consume and purchase. Turn off your lights. If you are coming from a place of privilege, acknowledge that with a sensitive awareness and use it to make the world a better place for humans and so many other species.

No action is ‘small’. Taking action is a big and mighty step to take, no matter the scale. When you take action, you become a conservationist.

This crisis has exposed just how reliant we are on mutual compassion and consideration for other beings sharing our communities and our planet. By taking action on issues we care about, we can nourish that feeling of unity and respect. We need to nurture a culture of compassion that acknowledges the interconnectedness of all facets of our globe and daily lives. No matter how you decide to contribute to positive change in this world, you should know that it is all deeply and inevitably intertwined. An improvement on one problem supports change for another in direct and indirect ways.

Moose in Alaska (Alces alces)

While you are thinking about how you can contribute to this global kindness, don’t forget to be kind to yourself. Sometimes the constant drive to make a difference can be confusing, complicated, and filled with uncertainty. Sometimes we can inadvertently put large amounts of stress on ourselves or our relationships. Give yourself the space to constantly learn and evolve. Remember — no one is perfect and no one can do everything. We all must work together. While you are being kind to the planet and all of the creatures living on it, always remember to be kind to yourself and those around you.

I hope we learn from the solidarity that has been conjured by this pandemic. I hope we harness it for empowerment, triggering a cascade of positive actions that can change our world for the better. In my experience, taking action for the things that are important to me has been empowering. That empowerment can be a brilliant source of invigorating positive energy, particularly in times when we feel utterly powerless. When we emerge from this crisis, I hope that we can continue to unite and pursue empowerment by taking action for positive change. Let’s change the way we see and engage with each other, our world, and the other animals living within it.

Thank you for your time and thoughts. I sincerely wish health and safety to everyone reading this. I have many resources saved regarding all of the issues mentioned in this short article and I would love to share them with you if you are interested!

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Resources to learn more:

A recent, short Scientific American interview about COVID-19, the wildlife trade, and human disease: https://www.scientificamerican.com/podcast/episode/covid-19-the-wildlife-trade-and-human-disease/

A CDC page explaining zoonotic disease: https://www.cdc.gov/onehealth/basics/zoonotic-diseases.html.

Karesh et al. Wildlife Trade and Global Disease Emergence. Emerging Infectious Diseases; 11 (7) 2005.



Mariah Rayfield Beck, class of 2020, will be starting a small animal rotating internship at Ocean State Veterinary Specialists in Rhode Island this summer. After that, she plans to specialize in wildlife and conservation medicine. She is also an educator that teaches about marine conservation in classes, workshops, and summer camps.

Navigating Lemur Conservation in Madagascar

When I stepped onto the plane to Madagascar, I had no idea what to expect. Expanding Horizons has sent students on a wide variety of experiences, but never to this location. It is sometimes said that the only constant when working with wildlife is uncertainty; for me, that was an understatement.

I arrived in the capital city of Antananarivo with a definitive plan, developed along with Dr. Patricia Wright, primatologist and anthropologist from Stony Brook University. I would spend the first week at Centre ValBio, the research station founded by Dr. Wright in the continuous rainforest, observing and taking behavioral data on the lemurs that reside in Ranomafana National Park. Then, a team of Centre ValBio research technicians and I would travel to a remote area of forest fragments, dart and capture a group of greater bamboo lemurs, take biological samples for research purposes, and translocate the group of lemurs into the protected pristine rainforest of Ranomafana National Park. This project had three different goals. The first was a rescue mission for the threatened lemurs in the fragmented forest. The second was to collect data on this critically endangered and relatively unstudied species. The last goal was to increase genetic diversity in greater bamboo lemurs by introducing a new population to the two lemurs already in Ranomafana National Park. The rest of my summer would be spent processing samples and monitoring the group of lemurs as they adapted to their new environment, or so I thought.

Unfortunately, the trip to the fragmented forest was severely delayed, but I made the most of that time by working closely with my team in the design and management of the project and looking for ways to improve it. I met with the regional head of Malagasy National Parks, park rangers, and environmental administrators where we discussed the future of the national park in lemur conservation. At the research station I worked with researchers, veterinarians, and even botanists, both local and international, to assimilate their expertise into this lemur conservation project.

In the process of researching and networking, the scope of the project began to grow. We found funding for a humanitarian team to build a dam for the local villages near our target population and the botanists joined our team to examine the possibility of reconnecting the forest fragments with the continuous forest. We consulted the experts around us to figure out how to take full advantage of a single capture event by collecting a wide array of samples from each lemur. Together we set up a plan to establish long-term preliminary data prior to the translocation.

The overall goals of the project remained the same, but the timeline was elongated and incorporated more disciplines. Instead of doing the capture with sample collection and translocation all in one trip, an initial team would capture, sample, radio collar, and release the lemurs back into the fragmented forest. Then a team of technicians from the research station would remain at the site for at least five months to gather behavioral, nutritional, and hormonal data. In the future, once sufficient data is collected and it is deemed safe to transport the lemurs, another expedition will embark to capture the lemurs for translocation to the safety of Ranomafana National Park.

While I waited for the initial team to embark, I was lucky enough to join a different project where I operated small mammal traps to gather morphometric data on mouse lemurs and chased ring-tailed lemurs through the forests to collect fecal samples. This expedition took me to the undisturbed and utterly breathtaking Lost Rainforest of Crystal Mountain, which is even more Indiana Jones-esque than the name implies, but that is a story for another time.

After returning from the Lost Rainforest, I had a quick turnaround before embarking on my own team’s expedition to capture a group of greater bamboo lemurs. The journey was wrought with obstacles, both literal and metaphorical. These included driving three days over one of the worst roads in the world where the winches on our vehicles were exercised often, being stuck for five days in a hotel while we waited for a government official to send a single email that would allow us to progress, and almost being turned away by the villagers upon arrival to the fragmented forests. However, once we finally established our camp around the clay church in the village, we wasted no time in jumping into action. From the daily river crossings that required full pants removal to the herds of cattle that stumbled through our processing setup, nothing could stop us once we found our momentum. Our blowdart experts were bringing us lemurs faster than we could process them and we had a queue of lemurs patiently waiting their turn. Our processing team consisted of three vets (two from Germany and one from Madagascar), one parasitologist from the US, and myself and it only took us a couple of lemurs to become a well-oiled machine. Not only did we monitor anesthesia and conduct physical exams, but we also took a wide variety of samples including blood, hair, feces, swabs from every orifice, parasites, morphometrics, and even breath. In just two and a half days, we darted and processed 12 greater bamboo lemurs and it was glorious.

It was extremely fun and rewarding to work with the lemurs and to safely release them back into the forest, but what made the experience truly special was that we were actively championing the conservation of a critically endangered species. I hope that I am able to return to Madagascar next year to continue my work on the translocation of the lemurs, but even if I am unable to return, this past summer in Madagascar has been an extraordinary experience that I will never forget. As the Malagasy say, olombelona tsi akoho!


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Bekah Weatherington, class of 2021, is a Cornell DVM student from San Diego, CA. She has received her B.S. in biology and M.S. in biomedical sciences from Colorado State University. Bekah is interested in how veterinary medicine can be used as a tool in wildlife conservation. Her special interests include rehabilitation, aquatic species, and international field work.

Opinion: The Value of a Common Cottontail

As a profession learned in the causes of animal suffering, one of the most fundamental ethical questions we veterinarians can ask ourselves is, “to what extent do we have a moral obligation to maintain the health of an animal that has no perceivable benefit to society?” To answer this question, I examine the nature of a moral obligation within the context of the veterinary profession.

The moral obligation on the part of the veterinarian is restricted in some ways by the nature of moral obligations. For example, moral obligations are always achievable which means veterinarians are not responsible for the treatment of an animal for which they lack the knowledge or resources to treat. However, if the veterinarian has the ability and a moral obligation to treat the animal, then the animal ought to be treated so long as treatment does not come into conflict with a greater moral obligation.

A veterinarian’s moral obligations towards a Bengal tiger or a Basset Hound should theoretically be the same as a veterinarian’s obligations towards an ordinary bunny. We should not consider endangered status or existence of an owner because the intrinsic value of an individual Bengal, Basset and bunny are (at this point) assumed to be the same.

If the life and health of an animal have an intrinsic value, then by virtue of their training, veterinarians have a moral obligation and responsibility for suffering that accompanies increased knowledge of the causes of suffering. Essentially, the claim that this moral obligation exists is a determination that the value of the healthy animal is greater than the cost in time, money, effort or emotion of caring for the animal. However, the value of the animal may not be enough to warrant this investment.

Animals also have extrinsic value, which is the value an animal has as a means to an end (e.g the charm of a wild animal, the production value of a cow, or the sentimental value of your family’s cat). Extrinsic values can be subjective (e.g. I feel rabbits are adorable and you feel they are garden gnawing goblins) or objective (e.g. the price of a rabbit pelt). The problem with objectivity is that it is much easier to believe in an objective value when we have science-based evidence to support our claim. Proof of an objective intrinsic value is nearly impossible beyond the metaphysical realm. This is problematic because we must prove the value exists in order to reasonably claim we have a moral obligation towards saving an animal with little to no extrinsic value. In other words, to say veterinarians ought to save the aforementioned rabbit, one relies on the premise that an individual rabbit – with no means of paying for its healthcare or value to society – is worth being saved.

Most animal lovers would make the argument that animals have a worth beyond their extrinsic value. That is, most animal lovers will claim that a veterinarian should treat a rhinoceros even if the rhinoceros does not act as a source of income for an individual or organization. However, once we strip an animal of the things that make it fun, exciting, or enjoyable to people (think sewer rat), the obligation that most of us we feel we or others have towards the animal diminishes.

A snag we hit when attempting to defend the intrinsic value of an animal is that even if you could prove its objective existence, the intrinsic value may not be enough to warrant a moral obligation on the part of the veterinarian, or anyone for that matter (e.g. say we could establish that bunnies have an intrinsic value of 10 units but the cost of treatment is worth 100 units, then the health of the bunny is not enough to justify cost of treatment).

Another issue with the veterinarian’s moral obligation to an animal is that the intrinsic value of that animal could be so insignificant that any expenditure would not be justified. This occurs when, despite the intrinsic value, the extrinsic value of an animal is greater when humans act against the animal’s well-being. Unfortunately, for many animals their quantifiable extrinsic value is greater when they are not treated (i.e. a rabbit: with no owner to cover the cost of treatment) or dead (i.e. a rhinoceros: whose remains can be sold for an exorbitant amount of money).

In order to determine if an act ought to be done, we weigh the extrinsic and intrinsic value of acting against not acting:

A Moral Obligation Exists When:

Extrinsic Value + Intrinsic value > Cost (money, time, emotion, etc.)

It occurs often that no extrinsic value exists, and the intrinsic value of the animal does not outweigh saving the animal. The clearest instance of this truth in veterinary medicine is evidenced by our control of parasites wherein we actively kill some animals (fleas, roundworms, etc.) for the benefit of another animal that has a greater extrinsic value to us (tigers, dogs, etc.):

No Moral Obligation Exists to Save the Rabbit (or flea) when:

(no extrinsic value) + Intrinsic Value of the Animal < Cost of Treatment

Despite my desire to argue otherwise, it is difficult to claim veterinarians have a moral obligation to assist animals that do not provide some benefit to mankind. This same notion is reiterated in the Veterinarian’s Oath whereby we swear to “benefit society” through the “relief of animal suffering” as opposed to relieving animal suffering for its own sake. From a conservation point of view, this post is frustrating. From a practical point of view, this means that rather than attempting to convert people to conservation by claiming a bunny should be saved by virtue of its being a being, energy should be directed to revealing the extrinsic value(s) of the bunny.  Success will require application of psychology, patience, economics, empathy, public health, philosophy, and – of course – veterinary medicine.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

María Juarez (Class of 2021) hopes to use comparative reproductive physiology to promote the preservation of North American species and improve the health of livestock. As an admirer of ethics and economics, she hopes augment community conscious conservation strategies after veterinary school.

How Space Technologies are Transforming Wildlife Conservation

The conservation of forests and wildlife is becoming increasingly important around the world due to human interference and the rising number of endangered species.

Currently, many practices involved in the monitoring, tracking and protection of wild animals involve time-consuming, resource heavy processes. New, sustainable solutions for conservation are needed to safeguard wildlife effectively in the current climate.

Projects utilising space technologies such as satellite navigation and imagery and the wireless transmission of data are finding new ways to help protect the health of wild animal populations around the world.

Here, we feature some of the initiatives driving positive change in the sector.


WAMCAM: Monitoring Endangered Species Through AI

The WAMCAM project was originally created to aid researchers studying the native leopard population in Borneo. The process of setting up and checking live animal traps and camera traps in the dense jungle was a long-winded process that didn’t allow for wide scale study.

The solution was the WAMCAM, a battery-powered camera with added AI capabilities to identify the species of animals captured by traps. When an animal triggers a trap, the camera, which is connected to remote devices via satellite, will send a signal to researchers. This allows researchers to only travel through the rainforest when needed and makes tagging and health monitoring more efficient.

Satellite navigation technology can also be used in areas with decreased visibility to locate traps across a wider area for more extensive studies on animal population.

All the information gathered is stored digitally, resulting in clearer, more reliable research data to be shared globally.


Space Applications for Wildlife

This project provides a global service for the monitoring of wildlife habitats and nature around the world. Designed for governments, NGOs, businesses and universities, the project delivers regular wildlife trend reports, wildlife management advice and crisis prevention plans.

The project uses existing data collected by satellites monitoring the earth to provide reports on habitat quality around the world. By comparing historical data from the satellites to current satellite imagery, trends and changes can be detected and plans put in place for the protection of natural habitats.

Light pollution, land ecosystems, marine ecosystems and the quality of animal habitats can all be tracked by this innovative technology. One of the main benefits of this, is that it can be used in any location.


SISMA: Monitoring Domestic and Wild Herds

The SISMA project has been created with herders and agricultural state agencies in mind. One element of this project works to protect the reindeer population in Russia. Due to weak terrestrial communications in Northern Russia, the scheme utilises satellite navigations systems, Earth Observation and satellite imagery to track herds. This technology has the aim of reducing animal loss, preventing disease and managing habitats through remote, accurate monitoring.

The project includes a collar system connected to a mobile app to inform herders of their animals’ location and check for disease via temperature monitoring and alerts.

There is also a ‘disease channel’ for veterinarians to share early warning signs for diseases. The final element is the ‘data centre’ which collects current and historical statistics for further analysis, accessible via cloud services.

Funding Conservation Projects

Finding new, sustainable ways to protect endangered species and monitor the health of wild animals around the world is crucial.

For projects such as these to become more wildly accessible, they need support and funding from governments, local authorities and commercial stakeholders.

These projects have all received essential funding from ESA Business Apps.


ABOUT THE ORGANIZATION:

The European Space Agency (ESA) is an international organisation which organizes European space programs to find out more about the Earth, our solar system and the Universe. ESA is dedicated to encouraging investment in space research and satellite-based technologies and services for the benefit of Europe and the rest of the world.

The European Space Agency: Business Applications (ESA-BA) offers zero-equity funding, access to their network and project management advice to any business looking to use space technologies for new services.

To discover more projects they’ve helped grow, head over to the ESA-BA funding page.

The Bioethics of Wildlife Intervention

A young springbok prancing in the air, a behavior known as “pronking.” Photo via Wikimedia Commons, licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0.

A one-day-old springbok rises on his gangly legs — the shriveled umbilical cord still dangling from his ventrum — and begins to boing around his new surroundings. There is plenty to discover in the vast African bushveld, which he proceeds to do with reckless abandon.

Suddenly, a group of jackals saunters from behind an acacia tree and one of them seizes the “bokkie” by the neck. Within seconds, a game reserve employee dashes out of his safari vehicle to shoo away the jackals, gingerly picks up the injured springbok, and races to the wildlife clinic. Thankfully, no puncture wounds are detected, only bruising — the bokkie is later returned to the original site. The veterinarian waits from afar, hoping the youngster will rejoin his springbok herd.

Adult male sable antelope (Hippotragus niger). Photo via Wikimedia Commons, licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.

A month later, an adult male sable is seen hobbling on three legs due to a severe hoof infection. Darting supplies and medications are loaded onto a helicopter, from which the sable is safely anesthetized. After sedation is achieved, the hoof is examined and subsequently treated with saline flush and antibiotics. A reversal drug is then injected into the thigh muscle, upon which personnel are instructed to vacate the premises expediently. Meanwhile, the veterinarian remains on-site to verify the antelope’s full recovery.

Clearly, there is never a dull day in wildlife medicine. As an aspiring wildlife veterinarian who plans to pursue conservation medicine, I have frequently encountered this bioethical issue in both my academic studies and fieldwork. The aforementioned circumstances were experiences I witnessed during my summer in Namibia, where I was conducting research and shadowing the resident veterinarian on a wildlife reserve. Although these individual scenarios involved many factors worth analyzing, the veterinarian plays a prominent role in each situation, often deferred to for coordinating the remedial actions taken and their outcomes.

The aftermath of the above scenarios: the sable gradually improved post-treatment, whereas the springbokkie was never seen again — and thus, presumed dead.

That begs the question: Was it right for the employee to painstakingly pluck the baby springbok from his herd after being attacked by jackals? Were his actions compassionate or officious? Although the infant was promptly returned, it was possible the bokkie was rejected from his herd since the human handling had now covered him in foreign scent. After failing to be adopted back into the group, he was left vulnerable to the pesky jackals once more.

As health care professionals, veterinarians are uniquely positioned to address complex ethical issues involving human, animal, and ecosystem health — a concept aptly known as “One Health.” This initiative governs the core of conservation medicine and reflects the interrelationship and transdisciplinary approach needed to ultimately ensure the wellbeing of all.

The history of human-wildlife relations has experienced some challenges and backlash, but handling these interactions involves balancing valid concerns, prioritizing values, and adopting a hybrid perspective. We regularly wrestle with whether our actions are restorative or destructive, and reflect on a track record of gratifying wins and unsavory losses to learn from. Given our substantial roles in the fate of conservation, it is imperative to debate the significance of interventional efforts and whether they can be rationalized.

While the veterinary profession certainly paints a noble picture of treating injured and sick animals, conducting mass rescues, and mitigating human-wildlife conflict, the interventional aspect entailed in all these tasks suggest, to some, the controversial idea of “playing God.” Are the measures taken regarded as dutiful obligation or self-righteous interference?

On a more abstract level, such apotheosis is inevitable for any professional practicing contemporary medicine. However, the hubris of playing God is arguably heavier for veterinarians since more stakeholders fall within their jurisdiction. As an arbiter for animals, humans, and the environment, veterinarians are constantly confronted with clinical decisions involving life and death and must calculate the associated risks and benefits for multiple constituents. Tampering with the system may result in inadvertent consequences. Conversely, just because resources are available does not necessarily mean they should be used.

Though many have applauded scientific achievements such as GMOs, assisted reproductive technologies, and instrumental surveillance, others have perceived these fields as an exercise of human dominance. The idea of wildlife intervention engenders similarly conflicting sentiments. When physicians and scientists employ these seemingly “unnatural” methods, public fear arises around their potential negative — albeit unintended — consequences. Such discomfort may reflect an underlying mistrust of science and technology in favor of a powerfully unpredictable force of nature as the ultimate source of authority. When working on a free-ranging wildlife reserve that actively promotes conservation, there are various instances in which human intervention is utilized, sparking discussion of the decision-making principles that are applied and the degree of success achieved.

On one hand, the “Circle of Life” argument is commonly cited against wildlife intervention. Such critics support a laissez-faire policy that enables Mother Nature to take her course. Any meddling on the veterinarian’s part would thereby violate this principle. Despite one’s desire to aid the patient and provide necessary care for its survival, that may interfere with the operative principle of natural selection. In retrospect, with the bokkie case, a passive approach may have been best. Simply put, there are predator species and prey species; animals must eat to survive, and we cannot disrupt this instinct.

However, the “Circle of Life” argument fails to extend to veterinary work conducted with domestic pets — namely, preventative medicine. For example, routine vaccination protocols that keep our companion animals healthy are also employed in wild animals to prevent the spread of infectious diseases. If an emerging disease threatens an epidemiological crisis — especially if the pathogen is zoonotic, i.e. can be transmitted between animals and people — this must be addressed on a population level to prevent a mass mortality event.

Generally, the guideline regarding wildlife intervention is to act when the problem presented is due to human impact. Whether it’s gunshot wounds, lead toxicity, or hit-by-car cases, we are obligated to treat accordingly. We bear a responsibility to rectify anthropogenic consequences wrought on wildlife, simply because we caused them. Moreover, other factors warrant intervention, particularly if there is monetary value attached to a certain animal or species in need of saving. In fact, this factor supported the decision to intervene with the adult sable, who was one of three males on the entire reserve. For the purposes of his health and tourism value, treating this sable was deemed permissible.

As stewards and advocates of nature, we understand the precautionary principle of playing God, its inextricable social and ethical implications, and the requisite, evidence-based risk management of any impending decisions. While there is no absolutism with these difficult situations and exceptions can occasionally be made, moral reflection, consideration of all stakeholders, and development of our own self-knowledge may help us navigate this complex terrain.

This post is written by Elvina Yau and was originally published on Mongabay on October 8, 2018.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Elvina Yau, class of 2020, is a veterinary student from Long Island, New York. She graduated from the University of Pennsylvania in 2016 with a degree in Behavioral Neuroscience and double minor in Creative Writing & Biology. Elvina aspires to split her time between practicing Companion Animal Medicine in the U.S. and contributing to conservation efforts abroad both as a clinician and freelance photojournalist.