EcoLincNZ

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  • The superpowers of NZ moss: Dry shrubland and its moss ground cover

    I love moss.

    I have always loved mosses. They are so cute!

    Moss is green, all kinds of green, every nuance.

    Some of them are leafy, some of them flat, and some look like cushions.

    They make the forest floor look like a fairyland.

    Moss between bricks in front of Ivy Hall, Lincoln University. (Image from Eva Saison)
    Moss surrounded by render, Lincoln University. (Image from Eva Saison)
    Moss growing on Ivy Hall facade, Lincoln University. (Image from Eva Saison)

    Even better than simply being aesthetically pleasing, mosses have superpowers.

    Like Spider-Man, they stick to vertical flat surfaces, decorating walls with adorable green spots. Moss also has another power. I remember walking through the dunes in my hometown of Calais (France), the sound of waves in the background. Suddenly, between the European beachgrass (Ammophilia arenaria) that keeps the sand and dunes in place, I spot a brown patch of dead moss. Dead? Not really. With just a few drops of water on it, the moss revives in a few seconds, turning the brownish-dead area into a bright green patch of life. Just amazing. Tiny dune zombies are coming back to life through water.

    Moss shows off its Spider-man skills on Ivy Hall, Lincoln University. (Image from Eva Saison)
    Dead looking (but not dead at all) moss on a tree. (Image from Eva Saison)

    Consequently, moss brings joy to people, or at least to me. However, what role is moss playing in nature?

    The study conducted by Rebecca Dollery, Mike Bowie, and Nicholas Dickinson in 2022 helps to answer this question. They were particularly focused on the importance of moss ground cover in a dry shrubland area of New Zealand. They found that moss could be represented as a collector that loves to hoard various things.

    First into the hoard is water. Moss absorbs rainwater or humidity from the air. Moss is almost always wet when touched. The water is then used by the moss. The soil benefits from the waterlogged moss cover: in summer, soil is wetter under the moss carpet. The moss acts as a protective layer for the soil against the summer heat, allowing retention of water in the soil. The water is later used by the surrounding plants. In a dry shrubland environment, moss can have a positive effect on other native plants populating the area.

    Second into the hoard are soil nutrients. All plants need them to grow. One of the most important nutrients is nitrogen (N). It can be found in soil and absorbed by the plants in two forms: nitrate (NO3–) and ammonium (NH4+) molecules. With the ground covered by a moss carpet, the quantity of nitrate and ammonium in the soil decreased, up to 75% for the latter. In addition, the thicker the moss, the lower the amount of nitrate. Therefore, moss not only absorbs water but also sequesters essential nutrients. The nitrogen is trapped within the moss.

    This sounds alarming: moss is taking away the necessary food source of all other plants. However, this is not a tragedy for the dry shrubland environment. Indeed, their soil is low in nutrients under normal circumstances. Consequently, the plants growing there are adapted to these conditions. On the contrary and surprisingly, they might even suffer from a large increase in soil nutrients. The moss carpet thus preserves the original composition of the soil, which is also the optimum growing condition for plants native to dry shrublands.

    Third into the hoard are the seeds that fall and are stored within the moss layer. The researchers tested the impact of moss ground cover on the ability of some native species to germinate. Generally, moss cover prevents germination: fewer seeds germinate than on bare ground. The scientists supposed that the seeds did not germinate because they were in the dark, after falling into the depth of the moss layer. This was mostly observed with tauhinu (Pomaderris amoena) and kānuka (Kunzea serotina) (the species name was revised back to Kunzea ericoides in 2023). Both suffered a 60% reduction of their germination capacity.

    The seeds of the common broom (Carmichaelia australis) can germinate in the dark. For this species, the high humidity within the moss could be the reason why seeds germinated up to 88% less often with moss ground cover. Nevertheless, some seeds germinated and became seedlings. Their next step was to have their roots access the soil to absorb nutrients. The scientists observed that more common broom seedlings survived on the bare ground than with ground moss cover. The moss layer probably acted as a barrier between the roots and the soil. Despite that, the seedlings of common broom and tauhinu that germinated with moss were up to 3 times heavier than the ones from bare soil. This indicates that the conditions provided by the moss cover have had a positive impact on their growth.

    Rebecca and the team identified the moss as a plant that loves to stockpile things: first water, then nitrogen, and finally seeds. The various impacts of the collecting moss were in some ways beneficial for the native plants of the dry shrubland ecosystem. They were, however, detrimental towards exotic and invasive weeds. These invasive species suffer from the low nutrients in the soil and the difficulties of germinating within the moss layer. Moss, therefore, participates in the conservation of native plants in the dry shrubland ecosystem.

    A very interesting name can be added to the “things collected by moss” list: carbon (C). Sphagnum moss are one of the main components of peatlands. In these ecosystems more vegetation is growing than is decomposing, thus vegetation, including moss, is gradually accumulated as layers of peat. Furthermore, when plants are growing, they absorb CO2 from the atmosphere, they keep the carbon to form sugar and release oxygen (O2). Therefore, peatlands are trapping carbon in their vegetation, in their moss. Larmola and colleagues (2014) calculated that one-third of the total amount of carbon stocked on land is trapped in peatlands!

    Zoom in on Sphagnum moss. (Kirill Ignatyev, CC BY-NC 2.0, Flickr)

    After all those discoveries, I continue to love and admire moss. I will carry on watching the moss turn green again in the dunes and taking naps on forest moss. Those tiny superheroes decorate my city pavement and walls, promote native plant species in New Zealand’s dry shrublands and trap carbon from the atmosphere, as little fighters against global warming.

    This article was prepared by Master of International Nature Conservation student Eva Saison as part of the ECOL608 Research Methods in Ecology course.

    Dollery, R., Bowie, M. H., & Dickinson, N. M. (2022). The ecological importance of moss ground cover in dry shrubland restoration within an irrigated agricultural landscape matrix. Ecology and Evolution, 12(4). https://doi.org/10.1002/ece3.8843

    Heenan, P. B., McGlone, M. S., Mitchell, C. M., McCarthy, J. K., & Houliston, G. J. (2023). Genotypic variation, phylogeography, unified species concept, and the ‘grey zone’ of taxonomic uncertainty in kānuka: Recognition of Kunzea ericoides (A.Rich.) Joy Thomps. sens. lat. (Myrtaceae). New Zealand Journal of Botany, 0(0), 1–30. https://doi.org/10.1080/0028825X.2022.2162427

    Larmola, T., Leppänen, S. M., Tuittila, E.-S., Aarva, M., Merilä, P., Fritze, H., & Tiirola, M. (2014). Methanotrophy induces nitrogen fixation during peatland development. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 111(2), 734–739. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1314284111

  • Kiwi calling: when listening is not enough

    I don’t know about your’s, but my mum gets worried when I don’t respond to her phone calls for a few hours. Once, I can’t remember what I was doing, but I didn’t hear the phone ringing. When I finally checked my phone I saw about 17483 missed calls, oops. I can only wonder what went through her mind when I wasn’t responding: she was probably picturing me skydiving, in an ambulance, or lost in the woods during a hike.

    But what if she’d had a more statistical mindset and thought about why I hadn’t responded? Or even better: what if she’d thought about reasons why she could not detect me?

    Ecologists and conservationists consider something similar when analysing data obtained from searching an area for a certain animal species. An animal could be present at a certain site, but still go undetected. First, they have to consider what ecological reasons might have determined where the species was present or absent (for instance, where is there suitable habitat within the considered area). Second, they have to take into account what factors might have influenced the likelihood of actually observing the species (such as the distance from the observer, or the fact that the surveyor may not be skilled enough to recognise the species). These are defined, respectively, as occupancy (which is the same as saying “presence”) and detection probabilities, and can be estimated by using statistical models.

    Occupancy probability and detection probability are described by two different models and both of them will influence what will be observed during a survey. Taking into account that not all the animals will be observed is very important when attempting to accurately assess a species’ presence, which could otherwise be underestimated.

    A young roroa being released as part of the Operation Nest Egg programme. Image by Jon Sullivan on Flickr.

    Peter Jahn, James Ross, Darryl MacKenzie and Laura Molles, in a study published in 2022, wanted to know how accurate acoustic surveys of roroa-great spotted kiwi (Apteryx maxima) were between 2011-2015. During this time, 18 birds were translocated from the Hawdon Valley, in Arthur’s Pass National Park, to the Nina Valley, in Lake Sumner Forest Park, representing one of the initial efforts of the Operation Nest Egg programme. The researchers also wanted to compare kiwi presence before and after 2015, and between the two areas.

    They gathered data from a survey conducted in 2012-2013 by DOC in both the valleys and then repeated the methodology in 2017-2018. The technique they used was passive acoustic monitoring (PAM). PAM is effective when studying elusive species such as kiwi. Automatic recorders were deployed in the two study areas and left there for up to three weeks, activating just before sunset and switching off shortly after sunrise.

    The team analysed the kiwi calls recorded in each of the valleys. The goal was to find a model that would best describe the obtained data, and use it as a base to estimate occupancy and detection probability. Peter Jahn and colleagues wanted to know which factors were important in detecting the kiwi and looked at the study area (Nina and Hawdon Valleys), year, length of the survey night, breeding/non-breeding season, precipitation, wind speed, night length, varying recorder battery capacity.

    Similarly, my mum could have considered the fact that my phone may have been in silent mode, or had no service, or estimated the actual likelihood of me being in an ambulance. All of these factors could have influenced her imperfect detection of me.

    In both the study areas, the detection probability was found to be higher during the breeding season, to increase with longer survey nights and to be influenced by wind speed, rain accumulation and recorder sensitivity. Also, as expected, kiwi presence in the Nina Valley increased after the translocation, as it did in the Hawdon Valley. Moreover, it was found that the number of sites where kiwi calls were recorded increased in 2017-2018 in both the areas and that, in total, many more calls were detected in the Hawdon Valley than in the Nina Valley.

    The Hawdon Valley in Arthur’s Pass National Park. Image CC-BY-NC by Jon Sullivan on Flickr.

    Wait, the number of sites where calls were recorded and the presence of kiwi increased in the Hawdon Valley after kiwi were removed from there? How is that possible? Yeah, that was one surprising finding of the study. In fact, the researchers were expecting that occupancy would decrease after the birds’ removal, but what they found actually suggests that new pairs re-occupied the territories left inhabited by the translocated individuals.

    This is a promising result, because it means that such conservation strategy doesn’t necessarily negatively influence the population from which the individuals are taken. Also, the ongoing pest mammal control in the Hawdon Valley could have balanced the negative effect of the translocation. I guess the only thing left to do now is find out what makes kiwi desire those territories so much that they can’t stay away: maybe they have the most delicious earthworms of New Zealand?

    To conclude, these findings demonstrate that the species is reacting well to this reintroduction programme, considered that kiwi presence increased in the Nina Valley too. Furthermore, this study showed that combining occupancy estimates through statistical models with acoustic monitoring is very useful when studying the outcomes of kiwi’s translocations. However, if you, reader, can’t wait to know more about what happens to our dear kiwi when we move them around, sit back and read Peter Jahn’s PhD thesis: never stop learning.

    Finally, going back to my mum trying to “detect” me: I suggest the probability would increase a lot if she learned to call outside of my usual napping times!

    This article was prepared by Master of International Nature Conservation student Francisco Bini as part of the ECOL608 Research Methods in Ecology course.

    Jahn, P., Ross, J. G., MacKenzie, D. I., & Molles, L. E. (2022). Acoustic monitoring and occupancy analysis: Cost-effective tools in reintroduction programmes for roroa-great spotted kiwi. New Zealand Journal of Ecology, 46(1), 3466.

  • A foreign threat: New Zealand’s Invasive insects

    One of the many great fascinations of New Zealand is the absurd number of bugs found here that are found no where else on Earth. What’s a bug, you might ask? They’re the six-legged creepy crawlies you find everywhere. They are a part of your life, from the obnoxious house fly in your room to the big, bold beetle in the garden! Well, technically, I mislead you with the name bug. Bugs are a single group of piercing-sucking insects; the correct term to describe errant creepy crawlies is insects.

    Aside from being a nuisance in the home, what do New Zealand’s insects do? They provide excellent services to our ecosystem, whether churning up dirt, pollinating flowers, or controlling noxious weeds. They also serve as an essential part of the food web and are a key to the survival of many birds and lizards.

    A friendly, Robust grasshopper says hello! This photo I took in the Mackenzie district shows one of our largest grasshoppers. They’re excellent grazers of lichens and mosses. Historically they provided great nutrition for many birds and lizards.

    Despite their abundance, insects are massively understudied both globally and in New Zealand. We must understand how our insects contribute to our ecosystems and what might happen when new insect species arrive in our country. Species not previously found in New Zealand (nonindigenous creatures) have been a massive threat to New Zealand’s native biodiversity over the past 200 years.

    Of the non-indigenous species in New Zealand, much of the focus has been on mammals, like stoats, and plants, like wilding pines. This work is essential because these sorts of species have huge impacts on our environment and our economy. But what effects do the over 2000 introduced insect species have on New Zealand? A study by Brockerhoff (in 2009) featuring Lincoln University’s Dr Cor Vink, attempts to determine the threat of new insects to New Zealand’s ecosystems.

    The threat of introduced insects was recognised soon after European arrival. From what we know few of these species are capable of affecting native ecosystems aside from the well-studied Vespula wasp.

    The currently accepted view is that new insects do not generally hurt our ecosystems. However, as New Zealand’s ecosystems are often so understudied there is little way for us to measure the effects of new insects on the environment. Across most of the world, the arrival of new insects can be a catastrophe with substantial environmental and economic impacts.

    A photo by Will Frost of a typical Mackenzie Basin floodplain grassland. A habitat type threatened by new species of weevils and the expansion of dairy farming.

    So far New Zealand has avoided such a catastrophic invasion. Brockerhoff (2009) suggests that perhaps our intact native ecosystems repel insect invasions well compared to other parts of the world. While our forests have repelled invaders so far, the threat of climate change may alter the balance in the war of plants and insects.

    Brockerhoff (2009) aimed to investigate the effects of insect invaders across a range of New Zealand’s habitats. It was found that over 200 insects capable of damaging forests have been found in New Zealand but have had minimal impact on our native ecosystems. Several generalist moth species and a passion vine hopper have had minor effects without significant damage. In grasslands, several weevil species have been found all over New Zealand, even as high as 2800 metres, but their impact on the surrounding environment so far seems to be minor. These results suggest that all is well for New Zealand’s ecosystems. However, with rising temperatures creating more optimal conditions for invaders there could be an increase in foreign insect invaders.

    When species reach more significant numbers, their effects can start to worsen. Vespula wasps are well documented for their disruptive effects in beech forests. They feed on honey sap and compete with native birds for this resource. Worse still, these wasps predate on many native insects, some requiring a 90% reduction in Vespula wasps to survive.

    The Argentine ant spreading through New Zealand and is also of grave concern. In large numbers this ant has the ability to displace native ants and often eradicate many other native insects in the soil ecosystem.

    A photo by Will Frost showing a honey-dew beech forest from Craigieburn Forest Park which is threatened by Vespula wasps.

    So far many of the more harmful insect species are isolated to human-altered habitats. And insects which make it to intact ecosystems fail to make an impact. As these insect’s populations build over time and more begin to enter the country as temperatures warm the threat of invasion into native forests may increase.

    Many insects are selective of the plants they consume due to plant defences and palatability. This is true even for generalist insects that specialise on many plants. This likely explains why so far our plants have provided protection from so many would-be insect invaders.

    Honey dew being produced by scale insects. A rich food source for wasps. Photo from Adrian Paterson

    Brockerhoff (2009) suggests that for these reasons the greatest risks to our ecosystems now are from generalist insects, especially those which don’t rely upon plants. Generalist predators, like Vespula wasps, threaten the whole ecosystem’s natural processes. Due to their ability to consume the sugar produced by scale insects. These wasps prey on the majority of native fauna in beech forests to provide food for their young. When in huge abundances the composition of insects in the forest and availability of sugar sap is hugely reduced. If more generalist insect species with no natural predators were to arrive within New Zealand the impacts would be even greater.

    To reduce the threats to our ecosystems in future, introduction of more insects for biocontrol should not be taken lightly. We are fortunate that few exotic insects have been established in New Zealand’s native habitats. However, many of the subtle effects caused by invasive insects are not yet known, more study is needed to grasp how these effects are impacting the ecosystem.

    In the future, climate change and habitat disturbance could allow new insects to arrive and threaten our native ecosystems. We know enough now to say our environment is safe from hugely adverse effects; however, the future is uncertain. Developing a greater understanding of how these creepy crawlies subtly affect our ecosystems is paramount.

    This article was prepared by Master of Science postgraduate student Will Frost as part of the ECOL608 Research Methods in Ecology course.

    Brockerhoff, E. G., Barratt, B. I. P., Beggs, J. R., Fagan, L. L., (Nod) Kay, M.,K., Phillips, C. B., & Vink, C. J. (2010). Impacts of exotic invertebrates on new zealand’s indigenous species and ecosystems. New Zealand Journal of Ecology, Suppl.Special Issue: Feathers to Fur, 34(1), 158-174. https://newzealandecology.org/nzje/2916

  • Fantastic mantids and where to find them 

    This past year I have been reading a lot of papers about mantids because I will be doing my Masters thesis on the New Zealand mantis. They are very interesting animals that fill the niche of a top predator in many habitats.

    New Zealand only has one native species of mantid which is called te whē/rō in te reo Māori. Te whē/rō is a name shared with the stick insect. This relates to a tradition that Māori have where, depending on which of these insect species lands on you, this will indicate which gender your child will be. Maybe New Zealanders could bring it back for some niche (and traditional) gender reveals?

    Image from Ken Vernon

    The New Zealand mantis isn’t the only mantid species in New Zealand though. Since the 1970s we have had a second species in our country. Spreading from Auckland and across the North Island, the South African mantis quickly established itself in New Zealand. This South African invader is also well established in Nelson on the South Island.

    These invasive mantids have caused the decline of our native mantis on the North Island. This impact is likely driven by the female South African mantis that eat our native mantis males. These males follow their noses to the exotic female only to find out that it is a dinner date, and they are on the menu.  

    NZ ootheca (Jon Sullivan)

    The native mantis is more of a gentle species, where the females are unlikely to try and eat their mate. They don’t live for very long, perhaps six months in the wild. Mantids need a way to survive the winter and ootheca (little mantid egg cartons) protect their eggs while they develop. Both mantid species in NZ have ootheca, though they can easily be told apart. The South African mantis has a puffy white ootheca, which looks like a small meringue, while the New Zealand mantis has a brown ootheca that is smaller and more geometric.

    Mike Bowie, and his son Matthew Bowie, looked at where the New Zealand mantis laid their ootheca. Mike recently retired after over 40 years at Lincoln University, working on many native species, including the habits of New Zealand mantids.  

    The Bowies found that the New Zealand mantis preferred kowhai, native broom, lancewood, and cabbage tree, which together had 78% of the oothecae. Over half of the ootheca were found on smaller branches, predominantly non-shaded. They found that these spots were warmer and brighter than other parts of the trees and this would help with development.

    Oothecae were also centred on true north, which works with most New Zealand houses and fences since most properties are also facing true north. Ootheca are attached to houses and fences that face north, maximising their sunlight. This allows developing mantids to grow quickly. 

    The Bowies also found that there was a size difference between ootheca in Lincoln compared to those in Palmerston North. The Lincoln oothecae were significantly larger than the egg cases up north. There could be a few reasons for this and one of them is that a larger size helps them handle the colder temperatures down here. This size difference also allowed the southern population to fit a few more eggs in their ootheca giving them a bit of an advantage.  

    South African ootheca (Jon Sullivan).

    The study shows that our mantis has various adaptions that allow them to survive the New Zealand winters, especially by using the modified habitat we have created in New Zealand. Despite this, the New Zealand mantis is in decline. The South African mantis lay their ootheca in more sheltered spaces and produce oothecae that are larger than the locals, giving them advantages. They can even lay an ootheca without mating and it will hatch successfully.

    Just like those male mantids, we’ll be praying for a happy ending!

    This article was prepared by Master of Science postgraduate student George Gibbs as part of the ECOL608 Research Methods in Ecology course.

    Bowie, M. K.; Bowie, Michael H. 2003. Where does the New Zealand praying mantis, Orthodera novaezealandiae (Colenso) (Mantodea: Mantidae), deposit its oothecae? New Zealand Entomologist 26(1): 3–5. (https://doi.org/10.1080/00779962.2003.9722103)

    Further reading:

    https://academic.oup.com/beheco/article/27/3/851/2365697

    https://traviswetland.org.nz/about-travis/scientific-papers/praying-mantis-in-new-zealand/

  • The handle on the climate change pot

    I live at a student apartment here in Lincoln on campus and the handles of all of our pots are loose. Maybe you know the feeling. It is a problem, but it feels like a problem for the future.

    Recently, I talked to one of my roommates about it: “Let’s find a screwdriver and fix the pots”. But we have no screwdriver at our apartment, so nothing happened. One of these days, while picking up a pot, my pasta will end up on the floor, as the handle came off! We know this moment will come and it will then be a problem. But it probably will not be tomorrow and there are other more pressing matters at hand, like all of the assignments I have to complete over the next two weeks.

    The infamous pots and pans from our flat. No firm handles in sight. Photo: Jess Bardey

    Climate change is our global pot with a loose handle.

    During 2019, multiple councils in Canterbury, New Zealand, issued emergency declarations for climate change, basically saying that our response to climate change has to happen now. There was a global wave of these declarations in 2019, as it felt like a way for local governments to do something against the global problem of climate change. What a climate emergency declaration entails can vary widely, from a vague “climate change is an emergency in our region” to an outline of possible solutions. Looking back over the last three years, the Corona virus response showed us that governments are able to react quickly to a crisis. A reaction that was hoped for in response to the declarations as well.

    Every time we pick the climate change pot up, we can feel its handle rattling and it feels a bit more loose than the last time. We can see the slow loosening of the handle in the ever drier and warmer summers, the high fluctuation in temperature, and the higher frequency and strength of natural catastrophes. With disasters like droughts, floods or wild fires, climate change feels very real and like an emergency. The handle feels like it is falling off right this second and we feel like we should immediately do something about it, for example set it down, grab a screwdriver, so that it does not end in disaster. But we don’t, we pick the pot back up and go on with business as usual, forgetting about the incident until the next time it occurs.

    Climate protesters demand an emergency declaration, Washington DC, 2021
    “Climate Emergency Banner – DC March” by Backbone Campaign, licensed under CC BY 2.0.

    Sylvia Nissen from Lincoln University looked into two of those declarations to understand their impact, or lack thereof, which were issued by Environment Canterbury and the Christchurch City Council. After the declarations were released they were seen as a sign of hope that might lead to some action. In fact nothing really changed even multiple months after the declaration, with one of the councils even supporting a decision that would lead to more carbon emissions. The declaration by Environment Canterbury was issued after their work was inhibited by activists chaining themselves to their building and stopping their water supply, and the Christchurch City Council felt they were under global pressure, following the release of many declarations around the world. The release of these statements was a fast and easy way to appease the public without having to put much work into it. I mean, looking at our rattling pot handles again, talking to my roommate did feel like we did something about the problem, even though we really didn’t.

    Calling climate change an emergency also led to a weird appearance in the declarations, namely that much of them were focused on defining how climate change is different from other emergencies. Canterbury is well acquainted with emergencies over the last 15 years, with earthquakes in Christchurch in 2010 and 2011, followed by fires, floods and droughts in the region. An emergency is defined as a problem that is surprising and unexpected and in need of an immediate solution. Even though the effects of climate change are getting more prevalent each day, we still feel like we can find the screwdriver to fix it tomorrow. However, none of the existing screwdrivers seem to fit, so maybe we need to find a new one, or a new toolbox. Climate change is an intricate, multilayered problem that needs work on many different fronts at the same time. Local authorities often feel as if they need the governments higher up to change something, because they do not have the authority to do so.

    The emergency declarations were used to get the government of New Zealand to release an emergency statement as well. Often in times of emergencies, the authority completely shifts to one entity to make the response efforts more efficient. This is especially concerning in New Zealand as non-emergency situations have often led to suppression and disregard of Māori rights, and a centralization of power might especially lead to excluding Māori advice from councils. In the declarations Māori advisors were often described as only “present”, not giving an indication as to whether their worries were taken into account.

    Looks like a good start to a toolbox. The yellow gives them quite the emergency color. By hehaden, licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.

    The notion of just giving the solution over to the next higher authority can also be seen as quite concerning, as bottom-up approaches were seen to lead to more realistic and inclusive solutions. And though no local government will be able to find the whole solution, each can provide their own, unique screwdriver to help fill a toolbox that can fix all the different issues, to screw the handle of the climate change pot back on.

    And looking at all the effects climate change already has on our world, is it really still a problem for tomorrow?

    So now I am going to get up and find a screwdriver. Because the loose handles of our pots (including the climate change one) can very quickly become a problem of today.

    This article was prepared by postgraduate student Jess Bardey as part of the ECOL608 Research Methods in Ecology course.

  • The hotspots are where it’s at if you want to spot a cat: the search for the common leopard

    The Himalayas are an almost mythical place, where mountains loom and the clouds surf down their sides before sliding into the forests below. The songs of rhesus monkeys, palm civets, and the occasional jackal sing out from the thick trees. This landscape is beautiful yet rugged. Travelling through is difficult for our human capabilities, in many cases impossible.

    Now imagine. This is the backdrop you must navigate to discover the number of big cats that live there. To top it all off, your target is the shyest and one of the rarest of them all, the inappropriately named common leopard.

    A common leopard relaxing in the sun
    (Source: Daily Pakistan: Pakistan’s common leopard endangered due to loss of habitat)

    Now, it’s not unusual that scientists doing field research are thrown into difficult situations. You might end up with dangers like Carlos Jared who innocently picked up a frog while doing fieldwork in Brazil, discovering frogs can be venomous. Or you might accidentally glue yourself to a crocodile while attaching a radio transmitter like Agata Staniewicz did (find that and more hilarious field research fails here).

    But when you’ve got a shy animal, add in an impassable landscape, plus the addition of the very real and dangerous threat of bumping into rebels which is, unfortunately, the reality in parts of Pakistan, you’ve really got your work cut out for you.

    This momentous task is one Muhammad Asad, PhD student at Lincoln University, took on as he bravely set off to northern Pakistan. Nobody had done this before and the leopard landscape was mostly unknown. But he was up for the challenge.

    The not-so-common leopard

    Leopards are found all over the world, the most widespread of all land-based carnivores. They’re incredibly adaptable, able to make their homes in all sorts of climates: from the savannas of Africa, the tropical forests of South East Asia, to the freezing mountains of far north Russia. They even make it work when humans move in.

    Their only request, being rather introverted, is that they have lots of space. They’re very territorial, protecting their home range fiercely. But honestly, a bit of peace is a reasonable request!

    Despite this incredible flexibility, common leopard populations are in decline. They’re no longer found in 63-75% of their historic range. The decline in Asia is even bigger, with an 83-87% drop! It’s no surprise that these gorgeous cats are listed as critically endangered.

    The majestic common leopard
    (Source: Daily Pakistan)

    Leopards are facing many different threats. The main ones are:

    • habitat is lost or changed,
    • trees cut down,
    • inbreeding from being cut off from one another,
    • human developments being built near their protected ranges,
    • prey disappearing,
    • poaching,
    • and human-wildlife conflict.

    Clearly, these cats need protection. So, leaving New Zealand and heading back to his native Pakistan, Muhammad took the first step to build a conservation plan; he had to figure out how many leopards there were and where they were found.

    To do this across the entire country would be too big a job. Instead, he focussed on the Gallies and Murree Forest Division in northern Pakistan, lying in the outer Himalayas. Here, leopards are protected under the law. Even so, there are often no checks for this, with hunters easily getting away with it. This is made worse by the slow and sometimes non-existent compensation programmes, programmes designed to reimburse farmers who have lost livestock to a leopard attack. The locals often resent the leopards. But it’s hard to blame them when people, including children, are occasionally attacked and killed.

    Leopards are poached frequently in Pakistan. Cubs are trapped to sell in the illegal pet trade or body parts and skin are taken for sale. Skin, claws, and teeth are sold in north Pakistan.
    (Source: Raj K Raj/Getty Images)

    Estimating the number of leopards in an area is very tricky. They have large territories with very few cats within each area. Figuring out where to look, especially when the landscape has the worst access, is the key to success.

    How to find leopards

    Muhammad and his crew began with a questionnaire survey. They asked people from local communities who lived nearby to fill these out. They asked about losses of livestock, when the attack happened, and the type of injury, for example, bite marks on the neck, missing dogs, or human casualties.

    Based on the information from the locals, they ended up with 63 different sites where they could focus the leopard hunting efforts. A much better start!

    Next, they moved into these sites, peeling their eyes for signs of poop, territorial markings (such as peeing on a tree), and tree scratches. These signs meant one thing; here be leopards.

    With this proof, they set up special cameras, known as camera traps, on either side of the trail, ready to capture the cats on the silver screen.

    They also set up cameras on 5 connecting trails which hadn’t shown any signs of leopard action. These were used to see if they could capture leopards in areas where they had left no signs. As new leopard trails were discovered, the camera traps were moved to snap those too.

    Sampling locations of the camera-traps survey in Gallies Forest (Ayubuia National Park, surrounding Reserved Forest and Guzara Forest), and Murree Forest (Protected, Reserved and Municipal Forest). Country map (top left – green). Study area showing different city boundaries (middle left).
    (Source: From paper)

    A leopard can’t change its spots – a handy identification tool

    You may have heard the proverb that a leopard can’t change its spots. This is supposed to teach us that we all stay true to our nature, even if we pretend we’re different. But it turns out when it comes to leopards it’s 100% true! The coat of a leopard is as unique as our fingerprints. Incredibly useful when you’re a scientist trying to tell the difference between two cats in a grainy photo!

    Their gorgeous spots are a bit like the shape of a rose, giving them the name ‘rosettes’. This means that by matching up the images of the rosettes you can figure out if it’s the same cat. The best place to match things up is on either side of their back legs or the top of their tail.

    Example of an individual being identified using the rosettes on the tail
    (Source: From paper)

    This is trickier than it sounds. The rosettes change shape as the leopard moves. And it can look different depending on the angle it is to the camera. But still, it’s a pretty helpful method to avoid double-counting cats. Double counting would give you a very different population size! You can find out more information on leopard identification techniques here.

    Example of when the spots don’t match up.
    (Source: From paper)

    So, how many are there?

    In 2017 Muhammad estimated there were between 16-24 common leopards in the Gallies and Murree Forest Division. This went down to 7-12 in 2018.

    However, they don’t think the population dropped. In 2018 they got fewer clear images making it harder for them to identify the cats. They think the real number could be closer to 12-18, meaning its range overlaps with the 2017 estimate.

    But, this might not be the case. In 2018, Pakistan was suffering from a drought. Perhaps the leopards had been forced to move out of their territories to look for food. So far there hasn’t been any research on leopard movements in relation to strange weather. This would be an interesting thing for someone to look into (are there any leopard enthusiasts up for the task?).

    Or perhaps this drop is real. Poaching and unreported killings are still huge in Pakistan. Plus, Muhammed and his team did find signs of hunting. So the reason could in fact be nefarious.

    Regardless of the reason, Muhammad estimated there to be 8-12 leopards and 3.5-6.5 leopards per 100 km2 in the Gallies and Murree Forest Division. They also confirmed they lived in the Swat, Dir, and Margalla Hills, even though locals as well as wildlife departments thought they had disappeared.

    These estimates are not 100% accurate. But the team is pretty confident that they are close to the true number. All in all, a great success.

    Mother common leopard and her cub.
    (Source: Daily Pakistan)

    What next?

    Now there’s a basic understanding of how many leopards there are and where they like to hang out, we can start to protect them.

    With this information, we can:

    • Use the leopard hotspots to keep an eye on the population trends and demographic changes over time.
    • Decide on the most important conservation areas. Special attention should be given to the corridors that join areas together to protect the long-term health of the leopard populations.

    For example, Muhammad discovered that 70% of leopards killed for revenge in the Guzara Forest happened outside of the Reserve area, close to the village, and in winter. That tells us we should focus the conservation efforts on the hotspots in the Guzara Forest surrounding the Reserved Forest so that human-leopard conflicts can be reduced.

    There’s still a lot of work ahead for the common leopard in Pakistan. But with Muhammad on the case, their future is looking a little brighter.

    You can read Muhammad’s research in full here: The Un-Common Leopard: presence, distribution and abundance in Gallies and Murree Forest Division, Northern Pakistan

    This article was prepared by Master of International Nature Conservation student Kat Douglas as part of the ECOL608 Research Methods in Ecology course.

    Full citation: Asad M, Waseem M, Ross JG, Paterson AM (2019). The Un-Common Leopard: presence, distribution and abundance in Gallies and Murree Forest Division, Northern Pakistan. Nature Conservation 37. 53-80. https://doi.org/10.3897/natureconservation.37.32748

  • I see you: Sauron and the panda

    “I wish we could get away from these hills! I hate them. I feel all naked on the east side, stuck up here with nothing but the dead flats between me and that Shadow yonder. There’s an Eye in it. Come on! We’ve got to get down today somehow.” JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

    We’ve all had that feeling of being watched, of something that has taken an interest in what we are doing, and not perhaps with our best interests. It makes us fell uncomfortable, awkward, and we often change our behaviour in response, become more cautious, less spontaneous.

    Tolkien knew the power of the watching individual. Sauron, the chief antagonist in The Lord of the Rings, is literally portrayed as the Great Eye – “The Eye was rimmed with fire, but was itself glazed, yellow as a cat’s, watchful and intent, and the black slit of its pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing. Then the Eye began to rove, searching this way and that; and Frodo knew with certainty and horror that among the many things that it sought he himself was one.” Knowing that someone can see you wherever you are is about as big a threat as we can imagine, whether it is Sauron, your boss, or your mother! We generally hate the concept that someone is watching us.

    Tolkien loved the word ‘watch’ (he used it over 330 times in the Lord of the Rings!). The watch-tower of Weathertop is the site of Frodo’s wounding, a Watcher-in-the-water nearly ends the journey at the entrance to Moria, there are Silent Watchers at the gates of Cirith Ungol, the menace of the Old Forest, Fangorn (known as the Watchwood to the Ents). Threats are usually described in the language around the feeling of being watched. And it works, it quickens the pulse of the reader. We know the feeling and respond.

    Ever get that feeling that something was looking for you?

    The problem with knowing that you are observed (or can be observed) is that you behave in ways that are different to your normal behaviour. Many species will respond to observation by not performing rarer sorts of behaviour, like play or reproduction, or by moving away from the observer.

    Gollum knows all about the watching eye and this makes him much more cautious in his movements. “His Eye watches that way all the time. It caught Smeagol there, long ago.’ Gollum shuddered. ‘But Smeagol has used his eyes since then, yes, yes: I’ve used eyes and feet and nose since then. I know other ways. More difficult, not so quick; but better, if we don’t want Him to see. Follow Smeagol! He can take you through the marshes, through the mists, nice thick mists. Follow Smeagol very carefully, and you may go a long way, quite a long way, before He catches you, yes perhaps.’ Gollum scuttles about because he does not want to be observed.

    Frodo, under the wearying influence of the ring as he stumbles through Mordor, almost completely changes his normal behaviour under the threat of constant detection. “Anxiously Sam had noted how his master’s left hand would often be raised as if to ward off a blow, or to screen his shrinking eyes from a dreadful Eye that sought to look in them. And sometimes his right hand would creep to his breast, clutching, and then slowly, as the will recovered mastery, it would be withdrawn.” If not for Sam, who does not have this anxiety, Frodo would not make it to Mt Doom.

    In animal behaviour we have a similar problem. We usually want to observe an animal’s ‘normal’ behaviour but they will often change their behaviour if they can see a human watching them. Today, technology can come to our aid.

    Yes, yes we realise you are the cutest species… Red Panda resting. Image from Kat Bugler.

    One of the more powerful new-ish tools available to those that study animal behaviour are trail cameras. These devices allow us to observe animals in the field 24/7 (just as long as they wander past the unsleeping gaze of the lens and trigger the image capture). This is a huge improvement for behavioural studies, as we can watch without the actual presence of human observers. We have used cameras in many studies here at Lincoln, mostly in understanding the life history and behaviour of nocturnal mammalian pest species..

    Recently, we used trail cameras to find out more about red panda in Nepal. Cameras were placed on red panda latrine trees (which are exactly what you are imagining). We were able to record activity patterns of wild red panda in their natural environment. Such data is useful in working out management plans to help with their conservation. We were also able to record other wild species that share their habitat.

    In some of these captured images, it appeared that the red pandas were looking at the trail cameras. If they are aware of the cameras then this might alter their behaviour. Maybe they are curious and spend more time loitering in the areas? Maybe they are frightened and don’t behave in their normal way?

    Kat Bugler, as part of her MSc at Lincoln University (with supervisors Adrian Paterson and James Ross), decided to examine whether red pandas were camera shy. Kat was able to get permission from zoos in New Zealand and Australia to observe their captive red panda in their enclosures. Each habitat was different but Kat was able to set up trail cameras to record behaviour around the main activity areas and platforms. She had a more powerful camera set up out of the enclosure to record behaviour of the pandas in these areas and around the trail cameras. Kat also spent time recording her own observations.

    Trail camera setup in a zoo enclosure. Image from Kat Bugler.

    In a paper published in Animals, Kat was able to show that there was a difference in red panda behaviour when a human observer was watching them, compared to a camera. When red panda were being watched by an individual they defecated less, ate less, moved less, played less, rested less, and slept more than when they were only being ‘watched’ by the trail cameras. Red panda were much slower to change behaviours when being observed. Interestingly, there were similar differences, if not as large, when comparing behaviour recorded by the outside camera compared to the enclosure trail cameras. The presence of people changes red panda behaviour, but so does the presence of a trail camera.

    These are subtle changes. Trail cameras are hardly the eye of Sauron: “And suddenly he felt the Eye. There was an eye in the Dark Tower that did not sleep. He knew that it had become aware of his gaze. A fierce eager will was there. It leaped towards him; almost like a finger he felt it, searching for him.” Are trail cameras useful for monitoring red panda behaviour if they can cause changes in behaviour? Absolutely, they do record all of the behaviour that red pandas exhibit, they just may alter the duration and frequency of occurrence. As long as we bear that in mind then we have a great tool to use in the wilds of the Himalayas and in understanding more about the red panda.

    “He did not feel invisible at all, but horribly and uniquely visible; and he knew that somewhere an Eye was searching for him” Maybe Sauron would have been better off putting trail cameras on all of the paths into Mordor!

  • And we’re back!

    As you may have noticed EcoLincNZ has been offline for the last three months. It seems that we were victims of a nasty hack that meant that we had to migrate and rebuild the site, over Christmas and the summer break.

    Jon Sullivan has been outstanding in getting virtually all of our material into the new site.

    It did make us ponder about whether we wanted to continue with our research blog, after all blogs are not as popular as they once were. However, we like this format and we have developed some good teaching/learning tasks around this kind of creative writing. And hopefully, dear reader, you obtain some value from what we do.

    So, EcoLincNZ is back and we look forward to providing more overviews of ecology-related research projects done by Lincoln University.