Hope for Animals and Their World

by Jane Goodall; Thane Maynard; Gail Hudson

  “When our research began in 2002,” said Tony, “only one coelacanth was known from Mozambique, one from Kenya, four from Madagascar, some from Comoros, and we know that our South Africa population has at least twenty-six individuals.”

  In 1979, a coelacanth was found off Sulawesi by an Indonesian fisherman. This turned out to be a different species, Latimeria menadoensis. Another of these, again off Sulawesi, was caught alive in 2007 and actually lived, in a quarantined pool, for seventeen hours.

  Tragically, these living fossils—which have survived innumerable stresses over the millennia yet remained essentially unchanged—are now vulnerable to extinction. This is because while they are fairly unpalatable and are not targeted by fishermen, they are caught accidentally as a bycatch. Increasing demand for fish and a depletion of the inshore resources have seen fishermen move into deeper water to set gill nets, thus penetrating the habitats of the coelacanth around Africa and Madagascar. The first coelacanth bycatch recorded in Tanzania was in September 2003; since then, nearly fifty have been caught. All have died. This represents the greatest known rate of coelacanth destruction anywhere.

  Fortunately the Tanzanian authorities, with the help of the Sustainable Seas Trust, are planning to develop, off the coast of Tanga, one of several marine protected areas. These refuges are not exclusively for coelacanths but are part of a plan to protect special offshore ecosystems while working out sustainable ways of harvesting them to benefit coastal human communities as well as the fish. But the coelacanth is of such importance that a major awareness campaign has been launched to let the people know about the extraordinary prehistoric fish in their waters.

  “Coelacanths are rare, beautiful, and intriguing,” says Tony. “They have brought together people of many cultures and countries, and inspired a more harmonious relationship between us and the rest of the living world. To the countries of the Western Indian Ocean, they are an icon for conservation—the panda of the sea. And a symbol of hope.”

  A fossilized branch alongside a recent clipping of the rediscovered Wollemi pine that belongs to the two-hundred-million-year-old Araucariaceae family. (© J. Plaza RBG Sydney)

  A Noble Discovery: The Wollemi Pine (Wollemia nobilis)

  On Saturday, September 10, 1994, David Noble, a New South Wales national parks and wildlife officer, was leading a small group in the Blue Mountains of Australia about a hundred miles northwest of Sydney, searching for new canyons. David has been exploring the canyons of these wild and beautiful mountains for the past twenty years.

  On this September Saturday, David and his party came across a wild and gloomy canyon that he had never seen before. It was hundreds of yards deep, the rim fringed by steep cliffs. The party abseiled down into the abyss, past numerous small waterfalls of sparkling water. They swam through the icy waters, and then hiked through the trackless forest. During this adventure, David noticed a tall tree with unusual-looking leaves and bark. He picked some of the leaves and put them in his backpack, then forgot about them until he got home and retrieved a slightly crushed specimen. He first tried to identify it himself but could not find anything to match. He had absolutely no idea that he had just made a discovery that would astound botanists and enthrall people all over the world.

  Unraveling a Mystery

  When he showed the battered leaves to botanist Wyn Jones, Wyn asked if they had been taken from a fern or a shrub. “Neither,” David replied. “They came from a huge, very tall tree.” The botanist was puzzled. David helped in the search that followed, looking through books and on the Internet. And gradually the excitement grew. As the weeks went by, and the leaves could not be identified by any of the experts, enthusiasm grew even more.

  Eventually, after many botanists had pored over David’s leaves, it became clear that the tree was a survivor from millions of years ago—the leaves matched spectacular rock imprints of prehistoric leaves that belonged to the two-hundred-million-year-old Araucariaceae family.

  Clearly it was necessary to find out a good deal more about this extraordinary tree, and David led a small team of experts back to the place where the momentous discovery had been made. As a result of that expedition, and exhaustive research into the literature and examination of museum samples, the tree, a new genus, was named, in honor of the finder, Wollemia nobilis, the Wollemi pine. It struck me, as I was talking to David, that for the sake of the majestic tree it was lucky that David had an appropriately majestic name. After all, it could have been found by a Mr. Bottomley!

  It is indeed a noble tree, a majestic conifer that grows to a height of up to 130 feet in the wild, with a trunk diameter of more than 3 feet. It has unusual pendulous foliage, with apple-green new tips in spring and early summer, in vivid contrast with the older dark green foliage.

  Continuing research showed that the pollen of this new tree matched that found in deposits, across the planet, dating from the Cretaceous period somewhere between 65 and 150 million years ago when Australia was still attached to the southern super-continent of Gondwana. One professor of botany, Carrick Chambers, the director of the Botanic Gardens Trust–Sydney, exclaimed in wonder: “This is the equivalent of finding a small dinosaur alive on earth.”

  All this for a pine tree. Horticulturalist dangles from a helicopter to collect the seeds of the prehistoric Wollemi pine. (© J. Plaza RBG Sydney)

  Their Secret Home

  It is now known that there are a few small stands of these rain forest giants in that canyon, all part of the same population of less than a hundred individuals. Very few people—a handful of scientists only—have actually been to see the trees growing in the wild. The exact location has been kept a strict secret to try to protect these ancient trees from new diseases. This is very important, as there is an unprecedented total lack of genetic diversity among Wollemi pine individuals. On one of botanists’ more recent visits, it was found that a ground fungus that attacks the roots of trees had invaded the canyon, perhaps taken there by a bird or by the wind. Immediately measures were taken to treat the ground in the vicinity of the precious Wollemi pines to eliminate the danger.

  David Noble shown here with a Wollemi pine at Mount Annan Botanical Gardens in Sydney, Australia. To this day David keeps the exact location of his original discovery a secret—telling only a few scientists and horticulturists. (© Botanic Gardens Trust, Simone Cottrell)

  Investigations of the rings of the trunk show that the Wollemi pine has withstood a range of potentially lethal environmental conditions, including forest fires and windstorms, and lived through extremes of temperature—from 104 degrees Fahrenheit on the one hand to 10 degrees Fahrenheit on the other. In freezing weather, the growing tips are sealed with caps of resin, which is probably what enabled the Wollemi to survive no fewer than seventeen ice ages! The trunks have unusual bubbly bark—“a bit like Coco Pops,” said Dave.

  “Every Leaf Precious—A Seedling Priceless”

  It was obviously important to try to propagate the Wollemi pine to ensure its survival into the future lest anything should happen to the wild individuals. In an Australian Geographic that appeared in 2005, John Benson, senior ecologist at the Botanic Gardens Trust–Sydney, is quoted as saying: “We caught a species at the point of evolutionary death. But the species isn’t going to go extinct, no. We have come in and played God.”

  A huge effort is under way to propagate and commercialize these pines, not simply as a safeguard for the species itself but also to raise money for conservation of these and other endangered plants. The work began in 2000 and goes on, behind closed doors, in the Wollemi nursery compound at Gympie. This is where Lyn Bradley has been working since the start of the program.

  “Initially,” she said, “every leaf was precious, a seedling was priceless. Now there are hundreds.” She is absolutely committed to this work, and passionate about the pines—to some of which she has assigned pet names. She and her boss, Malcolm Baxter, are the only two who know the secrets of the pine’s commercial propagation, and
both feel privileged to be involved with this extraordinary species. They hope, among other things, that by propagating the pines and selling them to botanists, gardeners, and collectors around the country, people will be less desperate to visit the canyon to see the trees in the wild—but I doubt it. I saw one of the two that was donated to Kew Botanical Gardens during my recent visit there. It was planted by Sir David Attenborough and is growing splendidly within its protective iron cage. And in Australia, I had the privilege of planting one of the little saplings on the grounds of Adelaide Zoo.

  I am, of course, delighted to have seen and even handled living tissue descended from the ancient giants. But it does not stop me longing to visit that dark and mysterious canyon that has, for millions of years, hidden its secret, and stand in the presence of the original trees themselves. Indeed, several of those privileged few who visited the canyon in the early days said that the experience was close to spiritual. Long may they stand there, undisturbed by the frenzy of a modern world, so different from anything they have known and endured for so many millions of years.

  PART 6

  The Nature of Hope

  It was a joyous moment, releasing this trout that was quivering with life into the cold, cleansed water of a once-polluted stream. Sudbury, Ontario, Canada.(David Wiewel)

  Healing Earth’s Scars:

  It’s Never Too Late

  Throughout the pages of this book, we have shared stories of species that, although rescued from the brink of extinction, are still endangered by lack of suitable habitat in the wild. Tropical and old-growth forests, woodlands and wetlands, prairies and grasslands, moorlands and deserts—all landscapes—are disappearing at a terrifying rate.

  So how, people ask, can I have hope for the future? Indeed, I am often accused of being unrealistically optimistic. What is the point of saving endangered life-forms, people ask, if there is nowhere for them to live except in zoos? So let me share why it is that, against all odds, I have hope for the animals and their world. Why it is I believe that human know-how and the resilience of nature, combined with the energy and commitment of dedicated individuals, can restore damaged environments so that, once again, they can become home to many of our endangered species.

  My four reasons for hope, about which I have written and spoken extensively, are simple—naive perhaps, but they work for me: our quite extraordinary intellect, the resilience of nature, the energy and commitment of informed young people who are empowered to act, and the indomitable human spirit. When human know-how and the resilience of nature are combined with the resourcefulness of dedicated individuals, desecrated landscapes can be given another chance—just as animal and plant species can be saved from extinction.

  We have already discussed the restoration of island habitats. Now let me share some of the successful projects that have restored mainland habitats, including streams, rivers, and lakes. Some of these efforts were undertaken with the express intent to save endangered wildlife. In some cases, cleanup efforts were initiated by the government, in others by citizens determined to create a better environment for themselves and their children. A businessman whose operation had caused horrible ecological damage suddenly felt he must put things right; a child made a pledge to restore a mountain—and made his dream come true. All of these efforts are described more fully and illustrated on our Web site.

  Kenya Coast: From Wasteland to Paradise

  One quite extraordinary project resulted in the transformation of a five-hundred-acre “wasteland,” created by twenty years of quarrying by the Bamburi Portland Cement Company, into lush forest and grassland. And the project was initiated—in 1971—not by a group of concerned environmentalists but by Dr. Felix Mandl, the man whose company had caused the devastation. The miraculous change was brought about by the company’s remarkable horticulturist, Rene Haller.

  When Rene began, the site appeared as “a monstrous lunar-like scar on the landscape, barren, desolate and exposed to the hot tropical sun.” The task seemed all but impossible. “It was appalling to note that even in the oldest parts of the quarry no plants had been able to establish themselves,” wrote Rene. “I spent countless agonizing hours in the hot and dusty barren land, found a few ferns and perhaps half a dozen tiny bushes and grasses which were struggling to take root, sheltering behind some of the remaining rocks. It was hardly an encouraging environment for tree planting.”

  Yet today the area is a self-sustaining habitat for wildlife, including thirty species of animals and plants that are on the IUCN endangered species list. And in addition to recreational facilities for visitors, there are countless environmentally sustainable opportunities to improve the lives of the local people. It has become a major environmental education center for Kenya, and is used by schools throughout the country.

  From the very beginning of the project, Rene had held the firm belief that, if he looked hard enough, nature would provide the solutions to all his problems. The description of how he tackled his enormous task, step by step, learning from nature, introducing each new species with care, is incredibly interesting and inspirational. It is living proof that the rehabilitation of a man-made wasteland is not only possible, but can be accomplished with sound organic principles.

  The Man Who Restored Forests to a Mountain

  This story—one of my favorites on our Web site—is about the absurd dream of a six-year-old boy that eventually came true. There was no fairy godmother waving a magic wand—only his sheer determination to make his childish vision into reality.

  This hero is Paul Rokich. His father worked for the big copper mine at the foothills of the Oquirrh Mountains in Utah. Paul remembers standing with his father in 1938, when he was six years old, and looking up at the mountains. They were black, the once beautiful forests (that he had seen in a photograph in a school textbook) gone, destroyed by logging, by extensive sheep grazing, and finally by the toxic emissions of the smelting operations.

  Paul told his father that one day he would go up those mountains and put the trees back. Surely an impossible task. Yet twenty years later, he set to work to honor his pledge. Every evening, every weekend, year after year, he carried buckets of grass seed up the mountain, driving as far as he could then walking—and sowing. For fifteen years, Paul worked mostly alone, with his own money. Sometimes his family and friends helped. And despite the countless setbacks and disappointments he endured, he never gave up.

  Finally the Kennecott Company was shamed into cleaning up the poisonous emissions from its smelting operations, spending millions of dollars. And eventually company managers hired Paul to help them with their belated restoration project. Today the Oquirrh Mountains are green, covered with native grasses and plants originally seeded by Paul, and trees that he planted as seedlings. And the animals have returned.

  I have flown over those mountains, looked down on those trees—and marveled. Paul sent me a laminated leaf from one of the very first trees he planted. I carry it around the world, for it symbolizes both the indomitable human spirit and the resilience of nature if given a helping hand.

  Sudbury, Ontario

  When I first visited Sudbury in the mid-1990s, I heard an extraordinary story that illustrates how a vast landscape utterly devastated by years of destructive human activity can—with time, money, and determination—recover. It is one of the largest community-based environmental restorations of industrially despoiled land ever undertaken. The full story, on our Web site, is amazingly inspirational and one that I never tire of sharing.

  It tells how irresponsible logging and industrial pollution gradually created a landscape similar to the surface of the moon, and how the citizens eventually determined to do something about it. I found it so inspiring that I returned, several years later, to learn more. I walked through a glorious landscape where young trees were bursting into spring glory, flowers bloomed everywhere, and the air was full of birdsong. It was almost impossible to believe that, not so long ago, everything had been barren and lifeless—but one
area has been left untreated, and the blackened rock is a stark reminder of the harm our species is able to inflict.

  The original forests have not returned, nor will they. But the area is beautiful, and much of the wildlife is back. As I turned away from the blackened rocks of yesterday, I was just in time to glimpse the arrow-swift flight of a peregrine falcon—back again after more than fifty years. It was almost as though nature herself was sending me a message of hope to share with the world. They gave me a feather, found near one of the three peregrine nests, as a symbol of all that can be done to heal the scars we have inflicted on Planet Earth.

  Before I left Sudbury, I had the joy of releasing a brook trout into the clean water of a stream that had, until recently, been dank, poisoned, lifeless.

  Water Is Life

  The pollution of our streams, rivers, lakes, and oceans is one of the more shocking results of the use of chemicals and other damaging agents in agriculture, industry, household products, golf courses, and gardens, since much of this poison is washed into the water. Even many of the great aquifers are now polluted. This chemical pollution has led to the destruction of many endangered species’ habitats. Yet there are signs of hope here: Slowly our waterways are being cleaned.

  I remember when the River Thames in London seemed beyond hope, flowing through London lifeless, contaminated, and murky. Fifty years ago, the Potomac River passed through Washington, DC, stinking like a sewer. And many other major waterways were in much the same state as so many of those in China today. In the United States, Lake Erie was at one time declared a fire hazard, and the Cuyahoga River actually went up in flames and blazed for at least two days! Of course, most species of flora and fauna vanished from such contaminated waters.