Delta Air Lines has revised its animal policy again, this time limiting emotional-support animals to one per customer and banning "pit bull type dogs" as either comfort or service animals.
The changes go into effect July 10. The airline said the updates resulted from safety concerns, after several workers were bitten. Delta said it carries about 700 service or comfort animals daily, or nearly 250,000 per year.
The revisions are the latest examples of the major airlines grappling with how to serve passengers who want to bring animals with them in the cabin. Delta had previously updated its animal policy in March, after a 70-pound dog flying as a comfort animal bit a passenger in the next seat on a June 2017 flight from Atlanta to San Diego.
"The safety and security of Delta people and our customers is always our top priority," said Gil West, Delta's chief operating officer. "We will always review and enhance our policies and procedures to ensure that Delta remains a leader in safety."
Each of the major airlines has updated animal policies in recent months, after the Transportation Department was unable to reach a consensus on emotional-support animals between travelers, advocacy groups for the disabled and airlines.
The department is collecting comment about potential changes in animal regulations, after failing to reach a compromise between passengers, advocacy groups for the disabled and airlines. Nearly 3,000 comments have already poured in, with a deadline of July 15.
Airlines basically have at least four ways for passengers to bring animals on flights. But uncertainty about standards for the different categories has led to conflicts between passengers and airlines.
Most airlines allow passengers to ship animals in crates with luggage. But occasionally pets die under those circumstances, and high-profile incidents raised concerns. The department counted 506,994 animals transported in cargo last year, including 24 that died, 15 that were injured and one that was lost.
Airlines generally allow passengers to bring smaller pets in containers in the cabin, so long as they fit beneath the seat. But that option costs $75 to $125, depending on the airline.
The dispute over regulations and airline policies is about what animals can travel for free with passengers in the cabin without cages.
The Americans with Disabilities Act recognized dogs and miniature horses as trained service animals. The Air Carrier Access Act then said service animals could fly in the cabin with passengers, while also opening the door to broader range of emotional-support animals, which assist passengers with mental-health issues.
Airlines typically require travelers to have a note from a medical provider describing the need for an emotional-support animal and documentation of the animal's health. But some crew members and passengers suspect that travelers bring pets as comfort animals to avoid fees.
In recent years, the variety of emotional-support animals exploded to include monkeys, pigs and ducks as emotional-support animals, although airlines didn't have to accept reptiles, ferrets or rodents. These comfort animals, which didn't require specified training, sometimes upset other passengers.
As the variety of animals on flights multiplied, so did complaints. The department received 2,443 complaints from travelers with service animals on U.S. and foreign airlines in 2016 and another 2,499 last year.
Scarcity of certain species of animals can be caused by different things, is one of the most popular of the existence of illegal hunting for humans.
Monday, March 19, 2018
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
Can lab animals be studied in the wild?
The environment a laboratory animal lives in can have a dramatic impact on whether it’s a good model for human disease. A mouse that lives in a shoebox-size cage, for example, gets less exercise than its wild relatives, and thus may not be the best model for studying obesity.
Enriched environments with bigger cages and more toys can help, says Garet Lahvis, but the best way to make animals good models is to take them out of the lab—and, in some cases, study them outside in the great wide world. This could be accomplished with cutting-edge electronics and remote sensors, says the behavioral neuroscientist at Oregon Health & Science University in Portland. He’s presenting his proposal today at the Behavior Genetics Association’s annual conference in Boston.
Lahvis chatted with Science about what studying lab animals in the wild could look like, and why some researchers think it won’t happen. This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
Q: Why did you become interested in this idea?
A: Our lab studies social behavior in mice. We’ve shown that mice have the capacity for empathy when they hear other mice getting an electrical shock, and that mice are gregarious—they like to hang out with each other. But we were studying them in these small, relatively sterile cages—not anything like they’d encounter in the wild. About 6 or 7 years ago, I started thinking, “How could it be normal for you to spend your entire life with only three other individuals in a small room? Are the mice we’re looking at really normal?” Once that door opened, I started to think about everything else that could go wrong with lab animal research.
Q: What’s wrong with current housing for lab animals?
A: Animals have to deal with a massive landscape in the wild. They need to hunt for food, avoid predators, seek mates, and deal with complex environmental variables, from rain to shifting light conditions. If you live in a cage, even a cage with lots of toys and companions, everything is the same. You’re not using your brain.
We haven’t had any big breakthroughs for psychiatric diseases; even with cancer drugs, the success rates have been very low. I think a contributing factor is that we’re keeping these animals in such unnatural conditions.
Q: What’s the solution?
A: We need to make the lives of these animals as close as possible to what their lives would be like in the wild. If you’re studying something on a macro level—like how an “autistic” animal responds to its companions—you have to put the animal in a situation where it’s dealing with a ton of social and environmental variables, and those variables need to constantly be changing. You can’t just put a couple of mice in a cage for 4 minutes and ask how long they spend sniffing each other’s butts.
Q: So take the animals out of the lab?
A: One option is to put the animals in an outdoor pen, so they’re dealing with things like foraging and weather that they don’t have to in the lab.
But we could also do some of this work in the wild. For example, [some] mice live in barns. So we could construct a real barn in the wild, one that would have all the challenges and opportunities of real barn living, except perhaps we’d try to make sure the barn never got too hot or too cold, and that the animals couldn’t escape. Then you could introduce, for example, a bunch of mice that were genetically predisposed to breast cancer.
Q: But how could you study such free-roaming animals?
A: You could tag them with a radio frequency tag to keep track of them, and implant them with devices that would allow you to measure physiological variables like heart rate. Then you could inject them with a drug and catch them with traps at regular intervals to see if their tumors were shrinking.
Pretty much everything we can do in the lab, we can do in the wild through remote telemetry and other electronics. You could even use camera traps, for example, to see how animals solve puzzle boxes in the wild. Or you could use probes implanted in an animal’s brain to remotely turn genetically modified neurons on and off.
We’ve done this ourselves with ground squirrels. We’ve used video cameras to compare how these animals behave in the wild to how they behave in the lab.
Q: What are the limitations?
A: I wouldn’t modify the genes of animals we’re studying in the wild, in case they escape. Some critics say it’s also a lot more expensive and labor intensive to study lab animals in the wild.
But we also spend a lot of money on infrastructure, cage cleaning, and other things in the lab—and we spend money on experiments year after year that have no relevance to human health. We should spend more money and do it right. Instead, we’re putting monkeys in mop closets.
Q: How have scientists responded to your proposal?
A: Most of them don’t question the science. They realize this is a better way to do things. But they do question the accounting. They think it will cost too much. So the pressure to change has to come from the outside—from an organization like the National Institutes of Health.
Q: What’s the next step?
A: I’ve convened neuroscientists and wildlife biologists in Oregon to explore how use of naturalistic environments can improve research. The U.S. Department of Agriculture, the Department of Fisheries and Wildlife at Oregon State University, and the National Science Foundation have all expressed interest in exploring this.
Q: Have you stopped doing animal research in the lab?
A: I ended my mouse colony and stopped writing grants to study animals in cages a couple of years ago. If this doesn’t work out, [laughs] my days are probably numbered.
Enriched environments with bigger cages and more toys can help, says Garet Lahvis, but the best way to make animals good models is to take them out of the lab—and, in some cases, study them outside in the great wide world. This could be accomplished with cutting-edge electronics and remote sensors, says the behavioral neuroscientist at Oregon Health & Science University in Portland. He’s presenting his proposal today at the Behavior Genetics Association’s annual conference in Boston.
Lahvis chatted with Science about what studying lab animals in the wild could look like, and why some researchers think it won’t happen. This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
Q: Why did you become interested in this idea?
A: Our lab studies social behavior in mice. We’ve shown that mice have the capacity for empathy when they hear other mice getting an electrical shock, and that mice are gregarious—they like to hang out with each other. But we were studying them in these small, relatively sterile cages—not anything like they’d encounter in the wild. About 6 or 7 years ago, I started thinking, “How could it be normal for you to spend your entire life with only three other individuals in a small room? Are the mice we’re looking at really normal?” Once that door opened, I started to think about everything else that could go wrong with lab animal research.
Q: What’s wrong with current housing for lab animals?
A: Animals have to deal with a massive landscape in the wild. They need to hunt for food, avoid predators, seek mates, and deal with complex environmental variables, from rain to shifting light conditions. If you live in a cage, even a cage with lots of toys and companions, everything is the same. You’re not using your brain.
We haven’t had any big breakthroughs for psychiatric diseases; even with cancer drugs, the success rates have been very low. I think a contributing factor is that we’re keeping these animals in such unnatural conditions.
Q: What’s the solution?
A: We need to make the lives of these animals as close as possible to what their lives would be like in the wild. If you’re studying something on a macro level—like how an “autistic” animal responds to its companions—you have to put the animal in a situation where it’s dealing with a ton of social and environmental variables, and those variables need to constantly be changing. You can’t just put a couple of mice in a cage for 4 minutes and ask how long they spend sniffing each other’s butts.
Q: So take the animals out of the lab?
A: One option is to put the animals in an outdoor pen, so they’re dealing with things like foraging and weather that they don’t have to in the lab.
But we could also do some of this work in the wild. For example, [some] mice live in barns. So we could construct a real barn in the wild, one that would have all the challenges and opportunities of real barn living, except perhaps we’d try to make sure the barn never got too hot or too cold, and that the animals couldn’t escape. Then you could introduce, for example, a bunch of mice that were genetically predisposed to breast cancer.
Q: But how could you study such free-roaming animals?
A: You could tag them with a radio frequency tag to keep track of them, and implant them with devices that would allow you to measure physiological variables like heart rate. Then you could inject them with a drug and catch them with traps at regular intervals to see if their tumors were shrinking.
Pretty much everything we can do in the lab, we can do in the wild through remote telemetry and other electronics. You could even use camera traps, for example, to see how animals solve puzzle boxes in the wild. Or you could use probes implanted in an animal’s brain to remotely turn genetically modified neurons on and off.
We’ve done this ourselves with ground squirrels. We’ve used video cameras to compare how these animals behave in the wild to how they behave in the lab.
Q: What are the limitations?
A: I wouldn’t modify the genes of animals we’re studying in the wild, in case they escape. Some critics say it’s also a lot more expensive and labor intensive to study lab animals in the wild.
But we also spend a lot of money on infrastructure, cage cleaning, and other things in the lab—and we spend money on experiments year after year that have no relevance to human health. We should spend more money and do it right. Instead, we’re putting monkeys in mop closets.
Q: How have scientists responded to your proposal?
A: Most of them don’t question the science. They realize this is a better way to do things. But they do question the accounting. They think it will cost too much. So the pressure to change has to come from the outside—from an organization like the National Institutes of Health.
Q: What’s the next step?
A: I’ve convened neuroscientists and wildlife biologists in Oregon to explore how use of naturalistic environments can improve research. The U.S. Department of Agriculture, the Department of Fisheries and Wildlife at Oregon State University, and the National Science Foundation have all expressed interest in exploring this.
Q: Have you stopped doing animal research in the lab?
A: I ended my mouse colony and stopped writing grants to study animals in cages a couple of years ago. If this doesn’t work out, [laughs] my days are probably numbered.
Thursday, January 18, 2018
Event raises funds for animals in need of forever homes
Every year thousands of homeless animals are in need of a forever home in mid-Michigan.
Sunday the "Paws in the park" event, hosted by the Capital Area Humane Society, didn't only raise money for a local shelter, but it hoped to raise awareness.
The event had little dogs, big dogs, dogs up for adoption and dogs in costumes who flooded the Cooley Law Stadium for a day of games, endless doggy treats, and a good cause.
Julia Willson, the President & CEO of the Capital Area Humane Society said these events are a fun way to attract dogs and their owners. She said, "This type of event funds our activities, including finding new homes for animals that don't have homes, spay and neuter services and providing a wide range of care for the animals in our community."
And in the community here in mid-Michigan, Willson said she cares for hundreds of animals on any given day at the shelter. She told News 10 this major issue is not just a local one but extends on a much larger scale. "It's really a national problem, I think many communities experience the fact that many animals don't have a home," Willson said.
With a lot of animals living in shelters, owners at the event said they suggest people look at shelters before purchasing their pet from anywhere else.
Marilyn Jackson, a rescued dog owner, got her dog Miles from a family that could no longer care for him. "There are so many loving dogs that are great with family and kids who need homes, and its best sometimes to adopt and not shop," Jackson said.
Sarah Dobbrastine is another dog owner who is also no stranger to having her own rescued dogs, "There are always going to be animals looking for homes."
Dobbrastine has welcomed 10 huskies into her home, all of which she rescued or were given to her from people who know she likes that breed.
She told News 10, "more than half of mine have been abused or abandoned so that's how they came to be, or just people who gave them to me because they knew I dog sledded." She said she loves huskies for their personalities and comforting quality.
Sunday was a walk for animals in need, a walk animals took one paw at a time.
Sunday the "Paws in the park" event, hosted by the Capital Area Humane Society, didn't only raise money for a local shelter, but it hoped to raise awareness.
The event had little dogs, big dogs, dogs up for adoption and dogs in costumes who flooded the Cooley Law Stadium for a day of games, endless doggy treats, and a good cause.
Julia Willson, the President & CEO of the Capital Area Humane Society said these events are a fun way to attract dogs and their owners. She said, "This type of event funds our activities, including finding new homes for animals that don't have homes, spay and neuter services and providing a wide range of care for the animals in our community."
And in the community here in mid-Michigan, Willson said she cares for hundreds of animals on any given day at the shelter. She told News 10 this major issue is not just a local one but extends on a much larger scale. "It's really a national problem, I think many communities experience the fact that many animals don't have a home," Willson said.
With a lot of animals living in shelters, owners at the event said they suggest people look at shelters before purchasing their pet from anywhere else.
Marilyn Jackson, a rescued dog owner, got her dog Miles from a family that could no longer care for him. "There are so many loving dogs that are great with family and kids who need homes, and its best sometimes to adopt and not shop," Jackson said.
Sarah Dobbrastine is another dog owner who is also no stranger to having her own rescued dogs, "There are always going to be animals looking for homes."
Dobbrastine has welcomed 10 huskies into her home, all of which she rescued or were given to her from people who know she likes that breed.
She told News 10, "more than half of mine have been abused or abandoned so that's how they came to be, or just people who gave them to me because they knew I dog sledded." She said she loves huskies for their personalities and comforting quality.
Sunday was a walk for animals in need, a walk animals took one paw at a time.
Thursday, December 21, 2017
How the Love of a Dog Saved My Life
Two things that have been a part of who I am for as long as I can remember are a love of dogs and a tendency to depression, the first of which can sometimes help to take the sting out of the second. But around the time I turned 30, I went through a period of depression so profound that I could barely function. Spiraling toward oblivion, I made the painful decision to check myself into a psychiatric hospital and to give away my dog, Lou. Though I eventually climbed my way back to health, I remained shaken by the encounter with my own fragility and ashamed that I had fallen to the point where I was unable to take care of not just myself but a dog who depended on me.
After that, the idea of ever getting another dog seemed out of the question. But in the fall of 2012, my significant other, Charlotte, with whom I'd lived for fifteen years, said that she wanted a dog. A few years earlier, we had talked about having a child and, for various reasons, it hadn't worked out. Now, our relationship was going through a difficult time, and in the way some couples look to a baby to save a faltering marriage, Charlotte and I each hoped that adopting a dog would draw us closer. And as soon as she texted me a picture from the North Shore Animal League of a tiny 12-week-old terrier mix—fluffy and white with brown and black markings, a black gum drop of a nose, and giant brown eyes—I instantly texted back: "Bring that dog home! Now!! I think her name is Quincy!"
When Charlotte arrived at our rented cottage on Eastern Long Island, carrying Quincy wrapped in a blanket, I felt a rush of love. As I watched her pad clumsily around the living room—sniffing the skirt of a couch here, mouthing a coffee table leg there—it seemed to me that this could be a new beginning. I vowed to myself that this time I would take good care of my dog. It would be my way of putting things right for abandoning Lou all those years ago.
For a while, Quincy seemed to be a dog designed more for looks than loyalty. (One night, as Quincy was snouting a tennis ball under a table rather than snuggling on the couch with us, Charlotte started crying and said, "I think there's something wrong with her.") But over time, as she saw that we understood and would meet her needs, a powerful bond developed between us and she lavished us with affection—all the sweeter because it felt earned, though she remained an independent little creature who lived and loved on her own peculiar terms.
We soon settled into a routine: Awakened by Quincy's melodic whine—we called it "warbling"—we would take her to the dog run when we were in the city, where we watched her go from a timid puppy cowering by our sides to a fearless scrapper, or to the beach when we were on Long Island, where she developed into a dazzlingly fast runner, obsessed with chasing down tennis balls and various creatures of the land and air. Quincy attracted attention wherever we went—women started smiling at me on the street when I was with her—and passersby routinely stopped to ask what kind of dog she was. I would proudly announce that she was a mutt; Charlotte told people that she was a "Tricolor Snowball," adding, "they're very hard to find."
I was besotted, and my Instagram feed became all-Quincy, all the time. I spent dozens of hours researching dog food on the internet, settling on a brand that consisted of raw, grass-fed meat and organic vegetables, a bloody mess that I delighted in watching Quincy devour. I even wrote a song about her, whose lyrics I will spare you.
As a writer who works at home, I had spent most of my adult life allowing my days to unspool as a series of jazz improvisations. During my unhappy young adulthood, Lou's routine was dictated by my vagaries, to both our detriments. Now, I was submitting to Quincy's rhythms, and she gave my days a structure and order that went beyond meeting her needs. Every morning after her walk, I began meditating for half an hour and sitting down at my desk to work by 9:00. I also started going to CrossFit five times a week and adopted a Paleo diet, which turned out to be much like Quincy's, though I preferred my meals cooked and free of offal. Getting a dog may not be a panacea for all human problems, but to take care of Quincy, I had to take care of myself, and that was a lot.
After that, the idea of ever getting another dog seemed out of the question. But in the fall of 2012, my significant other, Charlotte, with whom I'd lived for fifteen years, said that she wanted a dog. A few years earlier, we had talked about having a child and, for various reasons, it hadn't worked out. Now, our relationship was going through a difficult time, and in the way some couples look to a baby to save a faltering marriage, Charlotte and I each hoped that adopting a dog would draw us closer. And as soon as she texted me a picture from the North Shore Animal League of a tiny 12-week-old terrier mix—fluffy and white with brown and black markings, a black gum drop of a nose, and giant brown eyes—I instantly texted back: "Bring that dog home! Now!! I think her name is Quincy!"
When Charlotte arrived at our rented cottage on Eastern Long Island, carrying Quincy wrapped in a blanket, I felt a rush of love. As I watched her pad clumsily around the living room—sniffing the skirt of a couch here, mouthing a coffee table leg there—it seemed to me that this could be a new beginning. I vowed to myself that this time I would take good care of my dog. It would be my way of putting things right for abandoning Lou all those years ago.
For a while, Quincy seemed to be a dog designed more for looks than loyalty. (One night, as Quincy was snouting a tennis ball under a table rather than snuggling on the couch with us, Charlotte started crying and said, "I think there's something wrong with her.") But over time, as she saw that we understood and would meet her needs, a powerful bond developed between us and she lavished us with affection—all the sweeter because it felt earned, though she remained an independent little creature who lived and loved on her own peculiar terms.
We soon settled into a routine: Awakened by Quincy's melodic whine—we called it "warbling"—we would take her to the dog run when we were in the city, where we watched her go from a timid puppy cowering by our sides to a fearless scrapper, or to the beach when we were on Long Island, where she developed into a dazzlingly fast runner, obsessed with chasing down tennis balls and various creatures of the land and air. Quincy attracted attention wherever we went—women started smiling at me on the street when I was with her—and passersby routinely stopped to ask what kind of dog she was. I would proudly announce that she was a mutt; Charlotte told people that she was a "Tricolor Snowball," adding, "they're very hard to find."
I was besotted, and my Instagram feed became all-Quincy, all the time. I spent dozens of hours researching dog food on the internet, settling on a brand that consisted of raw, grass-fed meat and organic vegetables, a bloody mess that I delighted in watching Quincy devour. I even wrote a song about her, whose lyrics I will spare you.
As a writer who works at home, I had spent most of my adult life allowing my days to unspool as a series of jazz improvisations. During my unhappy young adulthood, Lou's routine was dictated by my vagaries, to both our detriments. Now, I was submitting to Quincy's rhythms, and she gave my days a structure and order that went beyond meeting her needs. Every morning after her walk, I began meditating for half an hour and sitting down at my desk to work by 9:00. I also started going to CrossFit five times a week and adopted a Paleo diet, which turned out to be much like Quincy's, though I preferred my meals cooked and free of offal. Getting a dog may not be a panacea for all human problems, but to take care of Quincy, I had to take care of myself, and that was a lot.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
Safety Tips for Pet Owners on Halloween Night
With Halloween around the corner and trick-or-treaters on the hunt for candy, pet owners can take a few precautions to keep their pets safe.
Some pets may be afraid of spooky, eerie noises and be protective when people ring the doorbell or come in for a treat, so it's best to keep them away from the front of the house.
"In either case, some dogs get so stressed out, they act out," said County Animal Services Director Dan DeSousa. "Do Fido a favor and keep him behind a closed door or a crate away from the front door."
Also, if you decide to buy a costume for their dogs, make sure it isn't too restrictive or bothersome, according to Tracy DeFore County of San Diego Communications specialist.
A few pet owner tips:
Secure your dog away from the door.
Distract your dog with a favorite toy.
Turn on the TV or play music in the dog's room to mask sounds of activity at the front door.
Close the drapes so the dog doesn't see people walking by the front windows.
If your dog barks at the doorbell, disconnect it or watch for trick-or-treaters so they won't ring the bell or knock at the door.
Keep all pets indoors (cats, too) so they don't get spooked and run away.
Make sure all your pets are microchipped and dogs are registered with Finding Rover in case they do escape out the front door.
But parents and kids out trick-or-treating should also stay away from a pet owner's dog to prevent agitating them.
Dodgers Face Elimination After Heartbreaking Loss to Astros
Here are some tips for parents and kids out trick-or-treating:
Don't approach any dog even if you know him. He may not recognize you in costume.
Avoid houses with a dog barking behind the door or a fence.
If a dog is at the door when the owner opens it, do not approach him. Let the owner come to you with candy.
If the dog escapes or you meet a loose dog, stand still and "be a tree." That means fold your hands in front and watch your feet. The dog will probably just sniff you and move away but if the owner is present, wait for him to get the dog before you turn away.
Friday, October 20, 2017
Extinction looms for two rare birds after devastating hurricanes
Conservationists race to save remaining populations
Conservation biologist Paul Reillo is torn between two worlds in the aftermath of Hurricanes Irma and Maria — one of swift action and one of waiting.
There is little time to rest. More than 200 animals, many fighting extinction, are relying on him. The FIU scientist is the founder of the Rare Species Conservatory Foundation (RSCF), a partner in FIU's Tropical Conservation Institute (TCI), which offers safe haven, captive breeding programs and field-based conservation to help save endangered species. In a matter of two weeks, two species of birds on the brink of extinction were dealt devastating blows when hurricanes Irma and Maria crossed the Caribbean, leaving devastation in their wakes. The team at the Tropical Conservation Institute knows it is facing an unprecedented conservation crisis.
Working
Hurricane Irma caused more than $200,000 in damages at RSCF's property in Loxahatchee, Fla. Little could be done to save enclosures and fences from the storm, but Reillo and his team secured the animals, including 40 endangered east African bongo antelopes, 35 primates including endangered golden lion tamarins, nearly 100 parrots representing a variety of threatened and endangered species and 42 critically endangered Florida grasshopper sparrows.
The TCI team is putting in long hours to rebuild what was destroyed at the RSCF facility and to help the animals recover from the stress brought on by the storm. The Florida grasshopper sparrows are the greatest cause for concern. It is the world's most endangered bird with less than 100 remaining in the wild before Irma. The team fears the hurricane has crippled the wild population which resides exclusiv
ely in the prairie grasses of Central Florida. They are working with state and federal wildlife officials on strategies to help preserve the small number of birds that remain on the planet.
Waiting
Meanwhile, Reillo is waiting for news about Dominica's critically endangered Imperial Amazon.
Since the late 1990s, he has been working with Dominica's Forestry, Wildlife and Parks Division to help restore the rare parrot's population in the wild which has been devastated by habitat loss, the pet trade and natural disasters. In 2000, the local government established a national park to protect critical habitat for the rare parrot species. Reillo raised many of the funds himself to purchase the land necessary for the initiative.
Hurricane Maria, in a matter of a single day, destroyed more than 20 years of work to save the species.
"The flagship species we have fought to save for so many years may now face imminent extinction," Reillo said, pausing for a rare break from post-hurricane clean-up.
When Maria marched across the Caribbean, the expansive forests of the island were decimated. Tree canopies were gutted and critical habitat for the Imperial Amazon was destroyed. Dominica is among the most hardest hit countries by the recent spate of storms that attacked the Caribbean. Fewer than 250 mature Imperial Amazons were known to populate the forests of Dominica before Maria. Local forestry officials have been looking for any signs that some of the rare parrots weathered the storm, but the bird is elusive and difficult to find under normal circumstances. These are not normal circumstances.
"TCI's fight to save endangered species is critical," said Mike Heithaus, dean of FIU's College of Arts, Sciences & Education, which houses TCI. "Recent hurricanes have proven how very vulnerable many species are. Our programs can make the difference between an animal being here and not, but the monumental task before us is going to require tremendous local, national and international support."
Even if Imperial Amazons survived, the catastrophic destruction of the island's richly biodiverse forests is causing alarm for conservationists. Locals have spotted the more common Jaco parrot among the gutted forests, but those are struggling to find food. Their plight represents a much larger crisis looming over Dominica's wildlife and especially the Imperial Amazons.
Reillo believes the Imperial Amazon still has a fighting chance. For now, the focus is on getting supplies to the island including tarps, chainsaws, tools and veterinary supplies. Researchers and forestry officials are still trying to assess the status of the population and develop a strategy for recovery. The FIU Tropical Conservation Institute team is preparing for an aggressive plan that Reillo knows will come at a significant cost. But the alternative — loss of another flagship species — poses a far greater cost to the health of the planet.
Conservation biologist Paul Reillo is torn between two worlds in the aftermath of Hurricanes Irma and Maria — one of swift action and one of waiting.
There is little time to rest. More than 200 animals, many fighting extinction, are relying on him. The FIU scientist is the founder of the Rare Species Conservatory Foundation (RSCF), a partner in FIU's Tropical Conservation Institute (TCI), which offers safe haven, captive breeding programs and field-based conservation to help save endangered species. In a matter of two weeks, two species of birds on the brink of extinction were dealt devastating blows when hurricanes Irma and Maria crossed the Caribbean, leaving devastation in their wakes. The team at the Tropical Conservation Institute knows it is facing an unprecedented conservation crisis.
Working
Hurricane Irma caused more than $200,000 in damages at RSCF's property in Loxahatchee, Fla. Little could be done to save enclosures and fences from the storm, but Reillo and his team secured the animals, including 40 endangered east African bongo antelopes, 35 primates including endangered golden lion tamarins, nearly 100 parrots representing a variety of threatened and endangered species and 42 critically endangered Florida grasshopper sparrows.
The TCI team is putting in long hours to rebuild what was destroyed at the RSCF facility and to help the animals recover from the stress brought on by the storm. The Florida grasshopper sparrows are the greatest cause for concern. It is the world's most endangered bird with less than 100 remaining in the wild before Irma. The team fears the hurricane has crippled the wild population which resides exclusiv
ely in the prairie grasses of Central Florida. They are working with state and federal wildlife officials on strategies to help preserve the small number of birds that remain on the planet.
Waiting
Meanwhile, Reillo is waiting for news about Dominica's critically endangered Imperial Amazon.
Since the late 1990s, he has been working with Dominica's Forestry, Wildlife and Parks Division to help restore the rare parrot's population in the wild which has been devastated by habitat loss, the pet trade and natural disasters. In 2000, the local government established a national park to protect critical habitat for the rare parrot species. Reillo raised many of the funds himself to purchase the land necessary for the initiative.
Hurricane Maria, in a matter of a single day, destroyed more than 20 years of work to save the species.
"The flagship species we have fought to save for so many years may now face imminent extinction," Reillo said, pausing for a rare break from post-hurricane clean-up.
When Maria marched across the Caribbean, the expansive forests of the island were decimated. Tree canopies were gutted and critical habitat for the Imperial Amazon was destroyed. Dominica is among the most hardest hit countries by the recent spate of storms that attacked the Caribbean. Fewer than 250 mature Imperial Amazons were known to populate the forests of Dominica before Maria. Local forestry officials have been looking for any signs that some of the rare parrots weathered the storm, but the bird is elusive and difficult to find under normal circumstances. These are not normal circumstances.
"TCI's fight to save endangered species is critical," said Mike Heithaus, dean of FIU's College of Arts, Sciences & Education, which houses TCI. "Recent hurricanes have proven how very vulnerable many species are. Our programs can make the difference between an animal being here and not, but the monumental task before us is going to require tremendous local, national and international support."
Even if Imperial Amazons survived, the catastrophic destruction of the island's richly biodiverse forests is causing alarm for conservationists. Locals have spotted the more common Jaco parrot among the gutted forests, but those are struggling to find food. Their plight represents a much larger crisis looming over Dominica's wildlife and especially the Imperial Amazons.
Reillo believes the Imperial Amazon still has a fighting chance. For now, the focus is on getting supplies to the island including tarps, chainsaws, tools and veterinary supplies. Researchers and forestry officials are still trying to assess the status of the population and develop a strategy for recovery. The FIU Tropical Conservation Institute team is preparing for an aggressive plan that Reillo knows will come at a significant cost. But the alternative — loss of another flagship species — poses a far greater cost to the health of the planet.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)





