Exercise like a lion!

Wildebeest wrestling - the ultimate fitness regime? Selous GR, June 2010.

I came across a paper this last week - I can't remember how, because it's certainly not my usual reading material (though my wife has just pointed out a report on the BBC today) - but it suggested an answer to one of the things that puzzle me about lions. Like most cats, lions like to sleep. A lot, in fact - they're perfectly content sleeping for 21hrs a day, so it's no wonder tourists don't normally see them doing very much. As a consequence, I think lions are rather boring: I'd rather be birding. Still, on the occasions when I've got visitors staying who need to see lions I do go and look at them, sleeping away, and I wonder. How is it that a lion, sleeping 21hrs per day, can still be so fit and healthy? On the rare occasions when they do shift themselves, wild lions are certainly lean, mean killing machines. But how do they remain in such good condition, when they sleep nearly all the time, and even when hunting tend to walk as slowly as possible, or sit motionless in ambush?

Commelina, the Maasai Reconciliation Grass

Commelina sp, Mongo wa Mono, March 2011

It's surprisingly easy these days to find information on the medicinal use of plants (there's a great list for the Samuru people here, for example), such as the Commiphora uses we covered last week, but many plants have cultural significance beyond the simple medicinal uses and it's often much harder to find information about these uses. One of the 10 things I like to get people talking about when there are no lions is all to do with people, and talking about cultural uses of plants is often quite interesting. I was seriously impressed when one of the guides on our training course in November said that in 'circumcisim school' he'd had to learn to identify about 200 plant species and know their cultural and medicinal uses, so this knowledge is still very much alive out here - though he did confess to having forgotten many (before going on to hive an example of a rather harrowing use for one of the Euphorbia species that really isn't suitable for polite company...). So it's rather surprising how shy people can be about sharing the information, perhaps thinking it's not interesting, or somehow backward.

Why the hornbill shuts its nest

Von der Decken Hornbill nest cavity - it's tiny!

 This weekend I enjoyed a camping trip out to Simanjiro with some friends, and as well as finding some very cute new-born wildebeest, we found a number of nests. One of these, just near our campsite, was a pair of Von der Decken's Hornbill. All the hornbills of the genus Tockus have two fascinating pieces of nesting behaviour that it's well worth thinking about: firstly, after choosing (and sometimes modifying) a suitable nest cavity, the female climb inside and then plugs the nest hole with mud, faeces and other grot, sealing herself in until there's only a tiny slit through which the male feeds her and, later, her chicks. Secondly, as she's sitting there she carries out a simultaneous moult, meaning she drops all her flight feathers at once and is unable to fly. Nearly all birds moult their feathers once per year (larger birds sometimes take longer), but most do a sequential moult, meaning they drop feathers one after the other and replace them as they go, thus retaining the ability to fly throughout. (There are exceptions, of course - notably ducks and geese who also drop all their flight feathers at once.) In the case of the female hornbill, however, she goes in the nest hole, shuts the door and a little while later drops all her flight feathers. Interestingly, if she doesn't breed, she moults sequentially, just like the male, so there's some suggestion that the simultaneous moult strategy is triggered as a hormonal response to the dark interior of the nest. Now, that's the story that you'll read in all the papers (e.g. here and here), but it can't be the whole story as I was trying to find some pictures to point you to of birds inside nests looking all naked, and I couldn't. In fact, here are a few pictures that show females in the nest - this one is an African Grey Hornbill with smallish chicks, but clearly well feathered mother with fairly worn plumage - she's not just completed a moult. And here's an Asian species also with young chicks who certainly doesn't look in moult to me. I'm sure it happens though, and may be the norm, but there are obviously exceptions that haven't yet made it into the literature.

Threats and opportunities of the bushmeat trade

Snared giraffe, Serengeti NP Jan 2011. A major target right now

Following my post a while back about Dennis Rentsch's work on the bushmeat trade around Serengeti, Matt asked me to cover this issue in a bit more depth. (Though if you want to see how it's possible to have a sustainable harvest of around 100,000 wildebeest per year from Serengeti, with a net value of $2.5-$8.5 Million per year check the original post here!) And there've been a number of interesting papers recently that have started to fill in some details. It's not a subject I've much experience of, so I'm skimming the surface a bit, but I think it might at least highlight some of the issues involved.

We'll start with the caveats. Understanding the bushmeat trade is tricky - in most places it's illegal, and people aren't always going to talk freely. And if they do talk, there's a good chance they won't tell you the truth either - they might either say they do less hunting than they really do to play down the impact, or they might go down the macho route and tell you they're excellent hunters and never come back without a pile of buffalo, etc... Dennis's work took an alternative strategy, instead of asking the poachers to tell him what they hunted, asking the villagers to tell him how much bushmeat they consumed and working back to the harvest that way. Others have worked on data using poacher arrests, viewing this as an index of poaching activity - though there's no way to tell what proportion of poachers get away with it (what poacher, when arrested, will really tell you how often they've been poaching before and not been caught?!). The only comparison between these three methods is Dennis' and that suggests that measuring consumption gives a poaching pressure that parallels that from arrest records, but neither of these fit with pressure as assessed by poacher interviews. That suggests to me that Dennis' work is probably the most accurate, but he's not yet published these studies, so for now you can only read about it here. The vast majority of other work is based on poacher surveys, and we also know that when you compare what poachers say the meat is with what the DNA tells you, you get remarkably little agreement too.All of this suggests to me that we need to take the research based on poacher surveys with a large pinch of salt. So, with that in mind,  I'm going to focus more on the declines that are reported to be associated with bushmeat, rather than the more poacher-based surveys.

Myrrh trees (Commiphora) are useful things...

Most Commiphora have distinctive peeling bark, Eyasi Aug 2011.

Having last week given you the bad news about the biological warfare that plants with thorns are engaging in, I thought it only fair to share some tips that may help you stave off those tropical nasties threatening to kill you... So the good news is that some of those very same thorny trees that are out to get you also hold the cure in their sap. Traditional healers and many folk still living in the country have long known about the beneficial effects of the sap of Commiphora trees. Indeed, the earliest recorded use of Commiphora to treat infections goes back to 1100BC where Sumerians were recorded using myrrh (for that is what Commiphora is) to treat tooth infections and intestinal worms. It's use is also clear in the Bible, as one of the three famous gifts presented to the infant Jesus. Today it's still commonly used in village communities to treat an endless list of infections and maladies, and it's also pretty good as a mosquito repellant if you need emergency cover!

The wheatear's remarkable migration: Alaska to East Africa

A great piece of research came my way today, detailing the migration of the individual wheatears from their Alaskan breeding areas to winter territories in East Africa. We've long known this must happen, as pretty much all the world's Northern Wheatears Oenanthe oenanthe spend the winter in Africa, but now technology has allowed us to follow individual birds on their 14,600km long migration from Alaska to East Africa and back. It's a remarkable story, not least that a 20g songbird can repeatedly do this sort of movement, but that we now have devices that can be attached to such small birds and record their journey. Wheatears are also a favourite of mine, and their migration has been the subject of one of my student's research so I almost feel qualified to make a few comments!

Migration routes and wintering grounds of three northern wheatears breeding in Alaskan (AK) and one in the eastern Canadian Arctic (CN; grey dot, breeding area, blue, autumn migration, orange, spring migration, dashed lines indicate uncertainty in migration routes close to equinoxes). Fifty per cent kernel densities of winter fixes (beginning of December 2009-end of February; purple, bird AK-1; green, bird AK-2; orange, bird AK-3; blue, bird CN-1) are given depending on the sun elevation selected (with 228 for most southern and with 24.58 for most northern densities). Pie charts indicate the proportion of individuals (AK: n ¹/₄ 9, CN: n ¹/₄ 4) originating from one of the three pre-defined wintering regions (red, western; orange, central; yellow, eastern) [8] based on stable-hydrogen isotope (dD) values in winter grown feathers and the dD values within each wintering region (mean+s.d. shown); Credit: F. Bairlein et al. 'Global migration of wheatears' (doi:10.1098/rsbl.2011.1223) in Biology Letters

Tarangire wildebeest migration

Tarangire wildebeest on the move, Sep 2011.

Following the ATBC / SCB conference in June I mentioned a talk by Thomas Morrison on the movements of the wildebeest in Tarangire. The Tarangire migrations is, of course, tiny in comparison to the better known Serengeti migration and involves a different race of wildebeest (C. t. mearnsi in Serengeti, C. t. albojubatus in Tarangire) , but it's just as interesting to understand, and Tom and his supervisor Doug have recently published some work describing the movement that was covered in the conference talk. Until fairly recently, Tarangire was home to a large wildebeest population, though only around 6000 remain today. It's still one of my favourite places to visit though... These animals move into Tarangire in the main dry season (arriving in June) and then move out to one of two main areas for the wet season either east onto the Simanjiro plains, or north-west towards lake Natron. As with the Serengeti migration, these wet season movements are onto grasslands growing on recent volacanic soils with high nutrient content and just what is needed during late pregnancy, then when lactating after calving in February. One of the mysteries, however, is whether the population that moves to Simanjiro is the same as that moving to Natron - do the animals go one direction one year, and the other the next? And as those moving to Natron pass close to another population in Manyara, do those Manyara animals also join the movement? It's important to know the answers to these questions if we're to try and protect the animals, given that they spend around six months of the year outside the National Park system.