Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Book Review: VENOMOUS SNAKES OF ASIA by Gernot Vogel


Reviewed by Rom Whitaker

The first volume in their series ‘Chimaira Terralog’ on venomous snakes of the world, 'Venomous Snakes of Asia' is probably the first book which brings together good pictures of most of Asia’s venomous species. Text is at a minimum in this series, but a lot of effort has been made to find even the most obscure species, some of which have probably not been seen in print before. Most of the photographs are clear, sharp and adequate with a few preserved museum specimens of species rarely encountered. My only criticism would be that more attention needs to be paid to colour correction at the printing stage for both this volume and the following companion volume 'Venomous Snakes of Africa'.

Asia is a special place for kraits and coral snakes, the majority of them almost completely unknown, be it ecology, breeding biology or venom toxicity/effects. Hopefully a book like this will stimulate work on these medically important snakes. There are eleven species of cobras including several ‘spitters’ and of course the king cobra, which with its huge range and variation is likely to be separated into half a dozen species once its phylogenetic complexities are worked out.

Asia has relatively few vipers but a plethora of at least 90 species and subspecies of pit vipers! These are every photographer’s dream snake, they will often just sit there and pose, a gently nudge with a thin twig will reposition the head just so it catches a shaft of sunlight. In fact one Malabar pit viper we encountered on a pathside rock in the Western Ghats of South India was still on the same rock a week later (though it seemed to have moved its head slightly). One mistake I caught was the labeling of Trimeresurus labialis from the Andaman Islands (p.100); as far as we know it is endemic to the Nicobar Islands. Missing from the repertoire is the pit viper ubiquitous to the Andamans: Anderson’s pit viper.

'Venomous Snakes of Asia' bridges the gap between a popular photo guide and a serious scientific contribution to the herpetology of Asia. It is an extremely useful aid both for the naturalist visiting Asia for the first time as well as for the old timer who has not been lucky enough yet to encounter the Andaman cobra or Maclelland’s coral snake.

This book is also clearly aimed at the herpetoculturist with each species photograph accompanied by a series of symbols to indicate recommended terrarium size, ecology, climate, activity cycle, behaviour and diet. For the non-specialist it would have been convenient if the common names for each species (shown in the Contents) were also on the photo captions.

'Venomous Snakes of Asia' deserves a place on every Asian naturophile’s bookshelf.

Edition Chimaira, Germany, 2006.
Text (German and English): 17pp
Photographs: 131pp





Tuesday, October 27, 2009

An old gharial who learnt a new trick

By Soham Mukherjee

Visitors to the Croc Bank would know, sometimes to their annoyance, that little egrets, night herons, cormorants and pond herons nest on the trees that shade the crocs. Ravi Sankaran, the ornithologist, declared Croc Bank to be one of the few natural perennial heronries in these parts and we have jovially considered renaming the place, the Madras Bird Bank.

On the morning of 2nd September 2009, in pen # 24 (a.k.a. temple turtle pond), a fledgling little egret was walking on partially submerged stones and didn’t seem to know that stones usually do not move. WHAM! The resident male gharial snapped it up despite being handicapped. (He lost the tip of his upper jaw in a fight with another male a few years ago!) The gharial’s reaction may have been instinctive. I have seen the same animal snap at other dumb birds that made the fatal mistake of stepping on his august head before. On those previous occasions, he had spat out the offending remains, leaving it for me, the Assistant Curator, to clean up after him.



I stood poised with my camera, expecting to get a shot of the inevitable spit. Instead, the gharial started swallowing the bird! In my hurry to switch the camera to video mode, I jammed it. By the time I jiggled it back to life, the gharial had already made a meal of the bird. You can be sure that my camera moves will be smoother next bird fledgling season!



The gharial is reputed to live off fish almost exclusively. There is anecdotal historical information of human carcasses, parts of a donkey and other mammalian parts found in its stomach.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Meet the Staff: Director, Patrick Aust


Photo: Rom Whitaker


Growing up years…

I was born in Zimbabwe in 1975. I’m the last of three children. My father was involved in the bush war and because he was in the army, it was tricky. So in 1980, we moved to South Africa for eight years for a cool-off period. After returning to Zimbabwe, I attended a rural bush school called Falcon College where natural history activities were encouraged. This was a great time for me. I had the good fortune of studying under the late Ron Hartley who taught me the unique art of ‘crazy bushman biologist falconer’. (What's this? Quintessentially a Zimbabwean thing - to merge hard science with hunter-gatherer skills to garner some of the finest falconry (and fun) on earth. I flew a neurotic black sparrowhawk called Shaky; he was a legend.) I returned to South Africa after school to attend university in Peitermaritzburg. City life never agreed with me and I ended up completing my BSc and BSc Honours degrees part time whilst working back in Zimbabwe. Initially during this period I worked on our family farm and as a ‘gap year’ teacher at my old school – a very fun and care free time in my life.

One fine day I got a phone call from family friends offering me a job in the southeastern lowveld of Zimbabwe. The lowveld is a semi-arid part of the world where wildlife and cattle ranching are the main commercial activities. The job was to run a project on African wild dogs. For three and half years I monitored the regional population, conducted education and awareness programs as well as carried out my own research for my studies. In 2000, the turmoil caused by land reform began in Zimbabwe. Over the course of the next few years our family farm and many of the wildlife ranching areas where I was working were overrun with so-called war veterans. By the end of 2003, I had had enough and decided to take an extended holiday abroad.

Soon after arriving in the UK I once again realized that urban life was too much for me.  A couple of months later, I got a job in Botswana running a project on wild dogs in the Okavango swamps for Tico McNutt. My main task was to survey the status of wild dogs in northeastern Botswana but I also spent many enjoyable days monitoring the collared packs in Moremi Game Reserve. Shortly after arriving in Botswana, I made friends with Michael Fay. One of my passions was the rainforests of Central Africa and he found me a job there with Wildlife Conservation Society.

I conducted a short survey of lions in the remote Bateke plateau region of the Congo. Historically lions occurred in this forest savanna mosaic but relentless hunting during the colonial period decimated the population, and since then there have been only a few unsubstantiated sightings. My job was to confirm whether there was a remnant population in an effort to bolster the case for a new National Park in this area. As it turned out we never did find any lions and the evidence suggested that they had gone extinct sometime in the recent past.  At this time one of my many applications seeking a scholarship to do a Ph.D. came through. A full scholarship from the Beit Trust saw me back in the UK at Imperial College London where I joined the lab of the biologist guru, Prof. Tim Coulson.

All my life I have been interested in reptiles but making a career in that field is not always easy. So although I dabbled in large mammals, I was seeking an opportunity to get back to reptiles. The Ph.D. gave me that opportunity and I went to work on crocodiles.

Earliest memories of reptiles…

I’ve never really had a mentor in my reptile career. That’s been a big sore point. Most of what I know is self-taught. So I may be wrong by the textbook but I try to keep it quiet… (laughs) Like all small boys you start with herps at a very young age, catching chameleons and frogs, etc. Living in a country with pretty rich herpetofauna lends itself to this. I was 12 when I started catching snakes in earnest. That was in the eastern province of South Africa, in the then Transkie. In those days this area was classified as homeland and we lived there for some years. I started keeping snakes in metal trunks with soil…it was really a disaster. Then we moved to Durban for a while which is fantastic for snakes. My parents built me a snake room when I was about 15. I jammed it floor to ceiling with snakes, turtles, lizards. Snakes were definitely my main interest though. For a time I volunteered at the Fitzsimmons Snake Park but our move back to Zimbabwe put an untimely end to building on this opportunity.

Our family was interested in wildlife; our holidays were always spent in game reserves. Although they weren’t into herps, they didn’t discourage it. If I brought a snake home, they’d make an effort to be encouraging “Ooh, that’s very nice”.

How did you choose your study site for your Ph.D.?

I was originally going to do it in Mozambique. Then I got permission to work in Zambia. But just before I set off, I got in touch with Chris Brown who was the director of a sustainable use NGO in Namibia called the Namibia Nature Foundation. He had just campaigned for the downlisting of Namibian crocodiles from Appendix 1 to Appendix 2, and was looking for someone to do some research on crocodiles, particularly the crocodile conflict problem. Because of that, the logistical support they were willing to offer me was considerable. One of the big hurdles in setting up a field project was transportation - a vehicle and a boat - and they offered me those 2 things. That was the deciding factor and that’s how I wound up in Namibia.

Part of the reason I got the scholarship was because I wanted to investigate the concept of sustainable use of reptiles. South Africa has a long history of commercially managing wildlife, particularly large mammals. I always felt that reptiles were overlooked and their potential was untapped. Nobody seemed interested in the huge tracts of land where large mammals had been wiped out although they had fantastic populations of reptiles.

Were large mammals hunted out?

It was combination of hunting, habitat loss, agriculture, disturbance. Now-a-days worldwide, large mammals are mostly confined to protected areas. That’s very much the case in Zimbabwe, which has vast areas of what they call “communal land”. That’s really where I wanted to look. Also worth mentioning here, is that my interests are larger than just reptiles. I’m fascinated by community development, rural land use systems, traditional methods of utilization of wildlife resources. Many of my fondest memories of growing up are of hunting and fishing with local villagers and just sitting around a fire talking with the old men. So my project combined all my primary interests.

What were the findings of your project?

Prior to my study, the feeling was that the crocodile conflict situation was pretty much one way: crocodiles were killing humans and their livestock. Since uncontrolled hunting had been stopped, the population was thought to be huge, they were out of hand, there were crocodiles everywhere. They were perceived as vermin. That was partly the reason for downlisting the species from CITES Appendix 1 to 2.

Namibia has a very pro-active community development scheme. The government lends a very careful ear to what people want and at this point, they wanted crocodiles out. So besides looking at the population, I looked at the feasibility of some kind of community harvest system. I realized that the conflict was going both ways and it was incredibly dynamic. Although the crocodile population was large and there were a lot more of them than there had been in recent decades, things were changing quickly. The situation along the riverbanks made it difficult for crocodiles to sustain that number and it looked like it was going to start crashing again. The baby boom generation of the 70s had matured, and in that process had moved from eating fish to mammals. When I arrived, there were many large crocodiles feeding on terrestrial prey but not only were they not breeding successfully, they were getting killed. There was quite a lot of illegal killing as well as drowning in nets and so on.

Namibia, and particularly the North East where I was working, has a history of civil unrest which only stabilized fairly recently, after Independence. The riverbanks were rapidly filling up with new and growing communities. The overall finding was that the crocodile population was potentially going to fall off a precipice. And one of the big concerns I highlighted was that although there were a lot of protected areas in this part of Namibia, they were mostly bordering rivers. Few protected areas actually straddle rivers so crocodiles are always vulnerable. The pressure on the rivers is constant throughout the whole course. Because of that, crocodiles had a less certain future than some of the more charismatic animals such as lions and hyenas which at least had a core protected area where no one could get them. Crocodiles had no real safe refuge. The river area was a frontline of conflict. Fishing and other freshwater pressures are just as much on the border of a National Park as they were in completely unprotected areas. So the important finding was that, particularly in Namibia, there are crocodiles killing a lot of people and cattle but humans were also killing crocodiles, either directly or indirectly. A management strategy had to be developed quickly if things were to look up.

Did your study have an impact on bureaucrats and decision-makers?

I’d like to say it did but these things take a long time in reality. It’s the planting of a seed.

What were your recommendations?

My recommendation was to take the zoning approach to crocodile management. One big area is fully protected, called Mamili swamp, the end point of the Kwando River. My recommendation was to zone the whole of northeastern Namibia according to the percentage of crocodile habitat that was protected. If both banks of a river have protected areas, then that should be treated as a completely hands-off area, where ecological processes are allowed to carry on. In areas where one bank is protected, sustainable harvests can be allowed with the benefits going directly to the people who live in those areas. These are the people who are most likely experiencing continued high levels of human-crocodile conflict because there will naturally be higher populations of crocodiles in the vicinity of National Parks. Areas where neither bank is protected should have intensive management programs, literally off-take all animals over a certain size. Since there are a lot of safari operations, tourist lodges in these areas, the benefit would be to open up the river for water sports (such as water skiing, wind surfing) which is a huge attraction.

So there is no future for crocs outside Protected Areas?

Protected Areas are essential to safeguard populations of crocodiles. You need clever management outside of those areas which is market driven to get people and crocodiles to live together indefinitely. When there are protected areas and wildlife tourism it works quite well; it becomes part and parcel of a wider utilization of natural resources by the communities. When there are no protected areas and there is only agriculture, large crocodiles are always going to be a problem. You are never going to be able to protect them until the whole education/development program kicks in. Until such time, there is no point having a crocodile conservation program in those areas.

What’s the wildlife situation in Zimbabwe now?

I may be wrong but I think Zimbabwe has lost 70% of its wildlife in the last 10 years. That’s because there was a massive population of wildlife living on private land. Literally all that private land has gone now. When agriculture came to an end, the level of poverty skyrocketed and people have been living off the animals. It’s a dire situation. Rhino poaching has taken off again and is back to critical levels. Even the most secure populations are being hammered. It’s not going to get better anytime soon because there is a huge population below the poverty line and they are obviously the priority. We haven’t even started the regeneration process, bringing those people up. The infrastructures are just not there; they are not going to be there for the foreseeable future. It’s going to take a long time. By the time we can start looking at how to manage our wildlife, I fear there will be very little of it left. It is sad, I’m perhaps looking at the glass half-empty. In such situations in Africa, wildlife comes off second-best and it’s a resource that is totally, totally undervalued because they have had so much of it for so long. People will not believe that an impala can go extinct. “eh? No way”. A lot of these people have seen hundreds of elephants all their lives and it’s so difficult when you try to explain to them that this is an animal that needs to be conserved, because they have not seen any evidence of that. I think the country needs to go through a growing process; they have to learn themselves that these are not infinite resources, that we do really need to look after them.

What do you feel about taking on an admin job which may require just supervising people who are actually doing what you love doing?

These are some big decisions one has to take. I love being in the field and playing with animals. I’m sure most of the world loves doing that. The reality is that unless you start climbing the food-chain, become the decision-maker, look at the big picture, it isn’t really feasible. Now I’m married with two children. Being in the field doesn’t pay the wages to support the family.

Well, you could have opted for an academic career

Academia never appealed to me. During my Ph.D. I quickly realized that professors spend an extraordinary amount of time behind a computer or nurturing wayward students (like myself). At the same time I have always had a management role to play in various field projects and I’ve enjoyed that role. I have also a great interest in commerce, the economics of conservation. The idea of managing the Madras Crocodile Bank really appealed to all my mature passions – to further my career in a professional sense, learn a bit more about accounts, how to market a zoo, learn a bit more about conservation on a worldwide scale at a decision making level… I still love playing with snakes.

What do you see as your major challenges?

My initial impression was that there were a lot of challenges but they don’t appear to be as big now. People are always going to be the tricky part. I’ve yet to figure who’s who and who’s in charge of the various projects that are on-going here. I do know that if you have a few tricky moments with people, it can create major wars in the process.

When I cross the road from the Crocodile Bank to the neighbouring village, I feel like a fish out of water. I don’t feel comfortable. I don’t know if I can sit down next to a guy and chat with him. I don’t know if I can chat with his wife. It may seem silly but in Africa, these are the very little things that a lot of people neglect to do and as a result, I see them coming off second-best. I feel so at home there that I can walk into these situations and be completely relaxed. It’s cultural, reading facial expressions, body language – it’s the key to success in a lot of the things we do. Local NGOs are always more successful than outside NGOs because of this. I’m acutely aware that I don’t know them and it worries me from that side. I want to get in there, right down at the grassroots level, chew the fat with the guys across the road, start to understand how things really work. Even then, I don’t worry about it. It’ll work; it always has done for me. So it shouldn’t be a major problem.

Although I have minimal experience, I do want to make the whole commercial side of things run smoothly. I’d really like to make that a focal point. I need to learn some new skills there.

Are there any lessons from Africa that you can apply here?

There are many roads a developing country can take in the quest for a balanced human wildlife relationship. I have been down several of these paths during my career in Africa, some of which have met with considerable success. Right now it’s too early for me to tell but I have no doubt there will be some junctions here at the Crocodile Bank and in India where I will be able to at least recommend a well trodden path. For instance, in both countries/continents, we have some of the same set of problems – siltation, over fishing, river pollution. Any country that wants to move forward has to deal with these problems.

Tell me about the missing part of your finger.

(Laughs) It was a moment of madness in my youth. When I was working at my old school, I took charge of their snake club. I was cleaning a cobra cage one day and yeah, I was just not careful enough. Next thing I knew, when I woke up, ppphhhew (slices the finger with his hand), finger gone.

Has any incident left a lasting impression on you…

No, no, no. (shakes his head in the negative). I had a look at Google Earth before I came to India. It’s basically one big plowed field. I wondered if there was enough place to breathe down there. I walked on the beach outside the Crocodile Bank and wondered if there was any place I could just go for a walk everyday. Some place quiet and I couldn’t really see any place. I started getting jumpy, and figured this was going to be too claustrophobic, may be not in the first week but certainly after a year. Then visiting your farm, I realized “if there are open spaces 2 hours from Chennai, 5 hours from Chennai there must be really cool places.” Then there was the thought of the trips to Agumbe, Andamans, Chambal…this could be really good. I knew I could be at home here. I’ve always had access to the wilderness, to go for a walk everyday, animals all around. So that has become necessary now to keep my sanity. So it’s all good now. My only impression is that India is my new home, and if she allows, I am Indian.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Aldabra-cadabra - A giant with too many names

- Janaki Lenin and Jack Frazier



They are the largest native herbivores on the island they inhabit in the Indian Ocean – Aldabra Atoll – and amongst the largest living tortoises on the planet. As four of these Aldabra tortoises deliberately and calmly munch their way through leaves at the Madras Crocodile Bank, an international debate on their scientific name, which has been simmering for more than two decades, is now raging.

Biologists give every living thing a “scientific name,” usually based on Latin or Greek words. This allows them to cut through the babel of names in various languages (there are 17 names recorded for the flap-shelled turtle, Lissemys punctata, in Indian languages alone!).  But the case of the Aldabra tortoise has made a mockery of this practice, for there are nearly a dozen “scientific names” in use for the same animal. There is so much confusion that some scientists have used more than one name in the same chapter or even on the same page! So, now the reverse is true: the common name of the Aldabra tortoise has far more universality than its scientific names.

The saga begins with the expansion of European colonial powers and Napoleon’s conquest over much of Europe. About 1809 August Friedrich Schweigger, a German botanist, visited the Paris Museum and did the first scientific study of turtles. Among the dozens of specimens that he described was one that had formerly been part of the King of Portugal’s collection, but after Napoleon’s army claimed Portugal, this tortoise, along with various other scientific specimens, was taken to Paris. Schweigger called this spoil of war Testudo gigantea and recorded the country of origin as “Brasilia” (modern day Brazil). His Latin description of the animal has been variously interpreted and reinterpreted by different experts over the years because Schweigger did not clearly distinguish gigantea from the other large tortoises found on islands of the Western Indian Ocean, Galapagos, mainland Africa or South America.

More than 20 years after Schweigger’s classic study of turtles was published in 1812, André Marie Constance Duméril and Gabriel Bibron, two renowned French biologists, described T. gigantea on the basis of another, larger specimen also lodged in the Paris Museum. There are no records that indicate the origin of this second specimen, and in 1855, A.M.C. Duméril and Auguste Henri André Duméril referred to the same specimen again as the only one of this species in the Paris Museum. For nearly two centuries following Schweigger’s description of T. gigantea the original specimen was never mentioned again. Meanwhile, Duméril and Bibron had also described a new species of giant tortoise, T. elephantina said to be native to islands in the Mozambique Channel, including Anjouan, Comores and “Aldebra”. Could Schweigger’s T.gigantea be the same as Duméril and Bibron’s T. elephantina? This line of thought occurred to Duméril and Bibron as well as to Albert Charles Ludwig Gotthilf Günther, another important 19th century zoologist working in the Natural History Museum in London. A few years later, Ambrosius Arnold Willem Hubrecht in Holland and George Albert Boulenger, yet another important figure at the Natural History Museum, London, concluded that T. gigantea lived on Aldabra. For the next 100 years, the Aldabra tortoise was routinely known by the name of Testudo gigantea.

In 1957, Arthur Loveridge and Ernest E. Williams, from the Museum of Comparative Zoology at Harvard University, reorganized tortoises of the genus Testudo into seven different genera; the large, or giant, tortoises were now in the genus Geochelone. In addition, Loveridge and Williams created a new subgenus – Aldabrachelys – specifically for the Aldabra tortoise and its close relatives; understandably, they designated T. gigantea as the “type species” for their new subgenus.

In 1982, Roger Bour of the Paris Museum declared that Schweigger’s 1812 specimen was not an Aldabra tortoise, but was “unquestionably” an extinct tortoise, Geochelone (Cylindraspis) indica, from the Mascarene islands; this group of volcanic islands, which includes Mauritius, lies east of Madagascar and is distant from and unrelated to Aldabra and the Seychelles. Bour thus argued that the Aldabra tortoise could not be called T. gigantea (or Aldabrachelys) anymore, and that the appropriate name was T. elephantina, the name coined by his famous compatriots Dúmeril and Bibron 150 years earlier. To fill the void left by rendering Aldabrachelys irrelevant to the Aldabra tortoise, Bour created a new genus, Dipsochelys. Bour based his assumptions on his interpretation of Schweigger’s description of T. gigantea, by no means an unequivocal source.

In 1986, Peter Pritchard agreed with Bour’s conclusion that the 1812 Latin description did not refer to the Aldabra tortoise, but he disagreed that Schweigger had described an extinct tortoise from the Mascarenes. Since the locality for the Napoleonic war trophy was “Brasilia”, Pritchard argued that the specimen in question was the largest tortoise of that country: the yellow-legged tortoise, Chelonoidis denticulata. However, since the name Aldabrachelys had been expressly created for the Aldabra tortoise and was in use, Pritchard appealed for its continued usage. That same year, Chuck Crumly explained that Schweigger’s original 1812 description in Latin was not that easy to interpret, and he went on to clarify that gigantea was the established species name by which the Aldabra tortoise had been regularly known for many years; thus, he argued that the name should continue to be used on the grounds of “nomenclatural stability and universality”.

There is yet another name that complicates the history of the Aldabra tortoise even more: one that had been forgotten for 150 years. In 1831, John Edward Gray, the curator at the Natural History Museum in London, had included T.gigantea with a host of other tortoises under the name T. indica. Gray believed that all giant tortoises, whether those from the Galapagos Archipelago in the eastern Pacific or those from the Seychelles (which includes Aldabra Atoll) in the Indian Ocean, were all the same species. He thought that the virtually global distribution of the single species was from translocations of tortoises among the islands by sailors. Among the different names for tortoises that Gray included as synonyms of T. indica was T. dussumieri. In 1984, Bour declared the name T. dussumieri to be a forgotten name (“nomen oblitum”) – after all, it had not been used for nearly 150 years. But in 1995, confusion escalated again when Justin Gerlach declared Dipsochelys dussumieri as the correct name for the Aldabra tortoise.

Hence, the name of this distinctive tortoise had become a tower of scientific babel. By now five generic names (Aldabrachelys, Geochelone, Dipsochelys, Megalochelys and Testudo) and three specific names (elephantina, gigantea, and dussumieri), combined in at least eight different combinations, were being used to refer to just one tortoise. And, there were yet other names in the running (Testudo daudinii, T. hololissa, T. ponderosa, T. sumeirei, T. gouffei and Dipsochelys arnoldi). In one year alone (2003), Bour used both Aldabrachelys gigantea and Dipsochelys dussumieri in two different publications to refer to the Aldabra tortoise. Yet, whichever name was used, the authors routinely took pains to clarify that they were indeed referring to the animal also known as gigantea.

In 2006, Jack Frazier tried to bring some order by nominating a specimen of an Aldabra tortoise from Dune Patates, Aldabra Atoll, lodged at the Smithsonian Institution as the neotype: since the Schweigger specimen was widely presumed to be lost, the neotype would provide a clear reference for the name T. gigantea.

Inexplicably, within months of the declaration of the neotype, Bour reversed his earlier position and agreed with Gerlach that the long forgotten name dussumieri should be used for the Aldabra tortoise henceforth. At the same time he described in great detail a stuffed tortoise that he claimed had been overlooked in the Paris Museum for over a century. This specimen had a catalogue entry from about 1864 and the museum label stated that it was Testudo carbonaria, the red-legged tortoise from South America. However, Bour pointed out that this old specimen, evidently studied by Dúmeril and Bibron, is really a yellow-legged tortoise (Chelonoidis denticulata), evidently from Brazil. Since the size of the specimen and locality matched the 1812 description of T. gigantea, Bour claimed to have “rediscovered” the long-lost specimen that Schweigger had described, and changing his earlier held opinion, now agreed with Pritchard’s reinterpretation of Schweigger’s 1812 description. Bour also identified Duméril and Bibron’s 1835 specimen of gigantea, and he claimed that these two doyens of herpetology had made a terrible mistake; he said, they were the first to describe the Aldabra tortoise but wrongly named it as T. gigantea.

If Bour’s purported rediscovery of the long-lost Schweigger specimen were accepted, then gigantea can never be used to refer to the Aldabra tortoise again. However, several museum curators and chelonian experts are not convinced of Bour’s and Pritchard’s claim (which would first require a clear understanding of Schweigger’s description). Whether or not the “rediscovery” can ever be proven, various taxonomists, conservationists, zoo curators, and other educators have argued that stability of the name is the fundamental concern, not the “pedantic legalistic” speculations about what may have happened 200 years ago. They argue that to avoid confusion, it is important to continue calling the Aldabra tortoise by a name that has been in continuous usage for more than a century: gigantea. The rules of the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature (ICZN) also give primary importance to “nomenclatural stability”. The simple and straight forward mechanism to accomplish this stability is to set aside the “rediscovered” holotype in favour of the 2006 neotype which conserves the name that has immediate and universal recognition: gigantea.

That is the essence of Case 3463 that was submitted to the ICZN in March of this year. Letting the status quo continue with endless debates about whether or not the original specimen from 1812 has or has not been rediscovered and different names being used by various factions does nothing for the future of a species that is threatened by many different risks, including global climate change and rising sea levels on an atoll that is but a few meters above sea level.

Source: Frazier, J. (2009) ‘Case 3463: Testudo gigantea Schweigger, 1812 (currently Geochelone (Aldabrachelys) gigantea; Reptilia, Testudines): proposed conservation of usage of the specific name by maintenance of a designated neotype, and suppression of Testudo dussumieri Gray, 1831 (currently Dipsochelys dussumieri)’. Bulletin of Zoological Nomenclature 66(1): 34-50.
(a PDF of this document is available on request)

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

“Like leaves in the forest”

 – Karthikeyan Vasudevan as told to Janaki Lenin

Usually male cane turtles in breeding colours sport red coloured heads. Only a few turtles with black heads such as the one in this picture have been observed so far. Photo - V.Deepak


Three years ago, we didn’t even know where to look for cane turtles. We spent six months in Kariyan Shola of Anamalai Tiger Reserve (then Wildlife Sanctuary) without spotting one. On one post-monsoon morning, four of us walked in a line, scanning the forest floor and finally we saw it. It blended into its habitat so effectively that it looked no more conspicuous than a little brown leaf. With the search image now embedded in our minds, we saw more of them. We realized that although these animals are called turtles, they did not frequent steep river valleys or water bodies but liked to live in flat terrain. After many days of grueling work, Deepak, the field researcher, mapped 42 grids of 100 by 100 m each. In the next two and half years we encountered 40 different individuals in this 42 ha of rainforest. For a species that is rarely seen, that is an amazing number of animals in one small area. We were also able to observe that individuals do not maintain territories. We radio tracked four cane turtles for more than two and half years. This has allowed us to make observations on mating, male combat, feeding on different plant and animal matter. Although we saw two hatchlings, we were never able to see egg-laying.

Cane turtles are specialized animals but we didn’t realize that they were so finely-tuned to environmental factors. Their operating temperatures are between 18 to 22°C and this is directly correlated to rainfall; if the mercury drops below or shoots above this range, then the turtles withdraw their heads and limbs and go into dormancy. We were worried about one animal which maintained a motionless state for about a month and a half until the rains came and ‘turned it on’ again. It’s likely that these turtles spend as much as three months of the year in torpor. We have even recorded lichen growing on their carapace; the only other chelonian to play host to this class of plants is the Galapagos tortoise, though water turtles regularly grow mantles of algae. The sex of most turtles is believed to be programmed by incubation temperature. With such a narrowly defined activity temperatures, I wonder if cane turtles may be the exception to the rule where genetics determines the sex. Only future studies will tell if this is the case.

Cane turtles appear to be “captives” of pure evergreen forests only. It is amazing that such a specialized animal can continue exist in discontinuous habitats over the centuries. We confirmed J. Vijaya’s early observations that they ate fruits and millipedes but we discovered that they particularly relished mollusks; the large red snails are a favourite. They also like the purple fruits of Diospyros buxifolia, of the Ebony family; one female turtle spent 14 days under one tree feeding on the fallen fruits.

These turtles appear to be very colour conscious. During the breeding season, the heads of the males turn red and yellow. At this time, a male literally sees red when he spots another in breeding colours. In fact a male would attack any object that was similarly coloured. On a couple of occasions we watched two males fighting viciously. They bit and tore at carapaces for up to half an hour at a stretch. That explained why some males had missing nuchal scutes. Cane turtles are also extremely sensitive to movement. They definitely detect vibrations on the ground from 10 m and have visual acuity up to 20 m. They also climbed up vantage points to look around and take stock of their surroundings. Typically, we take up positions at a distance from the animal (to be observed) in the morning and remain motionless through the observation period, ignoring the various itches, bugs, leeches and muscular numbness. Like Karna watched over his sleeping teacher, Drona, oblivious to insect stings and irritations, we watch our cane turtles hoping to learn the secrets of their lives. This isn’t research at its glamorous best. In fact, it would be hard for anybody to do a full scale study on the cane turtle alone as data is so hard to come by. But any information we get is a bonus since so little is known about this cryptic animal. It is all unchartered territory. We’d like to look at their reproductive biology next as well as to establish the extent of their population distribution.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Breeding the Pink-ringed Tent Turtle Pangshura tentoria circumdata

By Soham Mukherjee and Nikhil Whitaker.

Despite being a popular species in the pet trade, very few zoos or private keepers have managed to breed the beautiful Pink-ringed Tent Turtle in captivity. The species is one of the most widely distributed of Indian chelonians, being found in India, Bangladesh, and Nepal.

On 11th March 2009, we were fortunate enough to discover two baby "tentorias" swimming around in the adult pond. We collected several more individuals the next day, and found a nest that had full term (ready to hatch) eggs. These hatched the day after. Another nest was recently discovered, but all eggs appear to be infertile.

The 15 babies are all growing rapidly in a large aquarium with a filtration system, which keeps the water clean. Hatchlings are fed daily at this early stage in life, and they are growing fast !

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Gharial Surprise!!!





By Soham Mukherjee

Just as we were coming out of the main office after our short morning meeting, Nikhil was summoned for an unusual event. A Gharial had laid eggs! Nikhil and Gerry couldn’t believe this had happened as mid Feb is way too early for a Gharial to lay eggs. It was just then I remembered that I had seen one female up on the sand-bank that morning! It was unusual for a female to be so far up on the sand-bank early in the morning. Was it the same female?

Sure enough, it was and she was guarding her nest! There was a mixed feeling of happiness, surprise and excitement. Mohan (whose job is to watch the Gharial, especially during the breeding season when the males have bad fights) couldn’t stop smiling. While Nikhil dug out the nest, Ganga and Pindey made sure that ‘momma’ didn’t come too close. We were also keeping a watch for the ‘papa’ Gharial.

After taking notes like depth of nest and nest temperature, Nikhil took the eggs out, very carefully. The orientation of the eggs was marked and they were carefully placed in a sand tray without shaking them. After a few eggs, I was allowed to take out the rest. Awesome! One more first for me! the first tray was soon full with eggs and there was still more to go. With the sun rising it became tiring, especially since the sand was collapsing into the nest hole almost constantly.

Finally, all the eggs were out. The number of eggs totaling to 40! That was more than twice the expected number. Fortunately the incubators were already set up in anticipation of the coming breeding season. Candling revealed all eggs viable!