One Health

10/29/2009

Sick animals are often predictors of serious health problems in people. One of the best-known examples is the near extinction of the American bald eagle due to the pesticide DDT; this chemical has been linked to cancer and birth defects in humans.


Photo courtesy of the American Eagle Foundation

Consider Type II diabetes, a disease that affects millions of Americans, and its root cause: our poor diets. Veterinarians in small animal practice have been dealing with the same problem in domestic cats and dogs for years. It doesn't help that the number of pet food brands are TNTC — too numerous to count — an abbreviation we normally use when we look at cells under a microscope.



And what about the mountain gorillas? In central Africa, a seasonal illness known as “the grippe” affects tens of thousands of people each year. This is a respiratory disease caused by a mixed bag of organisms, rather than a single nasty bug. Indeed, there are at least 200 hundred viruses circulating around the world that cause coughs, colds and flu (excluding influenza) in people. All indications are that the same diseases affect the great apes, our closest relatives, including gorillas, chimpanzees, and bonobos. This is worrisome enough, given that only 750 mountain gorillas remain on earth. But it's also a concern in light of how many humans suffer for every sick ape. When one gorilla coughs, there may be as many as tens of thousands of people who are also coughing.



This is the bad news. The good news is that we can do something about it. The many connections between animal, human and environmental health mean that the solutions to such health problems are also linked. By studying the impact of one species' health on another, we can identify treatments and solutions that benefit people as well as animals.

Here's another example. I've been studying giant otters for several years, and have recently started a blog designed specifically to raise money for their conservation in Guyana, South America. In this ecosystem, healthy healthy fish are the key. Not only do the otters eat several kilos a day, but they are also the main source of protein for the local Amerindian population.



In this blog, I’ll examine the evidence for animals as indicators of human health. I'll also give examples of what we have done — and can do — to solve health problems that affect more than one species.

Why does this matter? Because the future of our own species depends on our ability to recognize — and heal — the proverbial canary in the coal mine.

Rescuing Buddy

09/17/2009

As I wrote last week, after returning from Africa, and before moving to Rhode Island, I flew to Guyana — a small country on the northern coast of South America. I went to visit my friend Diane McTurk at her ranch, Karanambu, located near the border with Brazil. This region, known as the North Rupununi, is notable for its tremendous biodiversity. Not only is it prime habitat for giant river otters, hundreds of other endangered species also thrive here, including giant anteaters, caiman alligators, jaguar, river turtles, storks and macaws. I should add that it’s also the buggiest place I’ve ever been!

Diane has been working for years to turn Karanambu into a protected area for all of the animals who live there. Now that I don’t live quite so far away, I’m ready to get more involved. The “one-health medicine” approach to mountain gorilla conservation certainly could work in the Rupununi — with modifications, of course.

The good news is that I’m not alone. There are more of us than ever before who are ready to help. Toward this end, Diane is in the process of creating a non-profit organization, Karanambu Trust. The new charity will support conservation in the Rupununi by raising funds, spreading the word and providing scientific expertise. The area remains relatively unstudied. As conservationist Baba Dioum once said, we will protect only what we love, and love only what we know.

The timing of my visit couldn’t have been better. Not only was Diane gearing up for a visit to London to solidify the plans for the Trust, she had also just gotten a call about an orphan in trouble. Apparently a tame male otter had been hanging around the Iwokrama Forest Lodge, about a six-hour drive from the ranch. I had just landed at Karanambu when Diane told me about the problem. She added, “What wonderful timing for your visit. Evidently he needs to see a vet!” Buddy was suffering from fly strike — maggots. As you can see from this photo (taken later in the week), the problem was not immediately obvious.



Before we set off to rescue Buddy, I was able to gather a little more information. Someone at Iwokrama had been able to pull out some of the larvae from the infected area around his tail with tweezers. They saved them for me to photograph — ick! These were screwworms, maggots that burrow into healthy tissue. The flies are usually found around (human) garbage and livestock pens. We deduced that Buddy must have been kept in a village somewhere, probably as a pet. This wasn’t a problem that would affect a healthy, free-living wild otter.



The treatment for fly strike is to pick out the maggots, treat the patient with antibiotics, and, if necessary, anesthetize it for surgery to remove damaged tissue. Anesthesia wouldn’t be easy, but at least I knew how to do it. Years ago, I’d developed a protocol for giant otter anesthesia. My first patient was Georgie, shown here, at the Georgetown Zoo in Guyana. I knew that trying to sedate the otter lightly wouldn’t work. The giants might as well be tigers or bears in this respect — they’re not safe to handle without full anesthesia.



A big change at Karanambu since my last visit is that the ranch now has now Internet access. What a difference it makes! I jumped on Google to find out more about a screwworm spray the lodge staff had mentioned, and found that the product they were ready to spray on Buddy, Mata Bicheira (Portuguese for Bug Killer), is a dangerously strong organophosphate (chemical insecticide). I sent a note to Iwokrama asking them not to use the stuff under any circumstances. I couldn’t understand how they were able to pick out Buddy’s maggots. Was he so sick that he couldn’t move? This photo (taken with Denton at Karanambu a week later) shows his overall size — about 35 pounds, or half the weight of an adult.



Our plan was to drive to the Iwokrama field station the next morning, be there by noon, meet Buddy, and make a recommendation as to whether or not he’d need treatment. Diane and I were thinking that he should probably be moved to Karanambu, since her staff is accustomed to taking care of orphaned otters. This was the first one to show up at Iwokrama. We scrambled around to gather necessary supplies, including a plastic dog kennel for the car ride. Here is Ryol (yes, that’s the correct spelling), Karanambu’s ranch manager and our driver for the upcoming adventure, getting the Land Rover ready.

As we headed out across the savanna early the next morning, Diane and Ryol discussed our route. Normally, we would have to go the long way around to get to the main road, a two-hour drive as opposed to 45 minutes. Since it hadn’t been much of a rainy season so far, we decided to take the dry-season shortcut . . . and our tires soon sank deep into slippery mud. Fortunately, we weren’t far from one of the Karanambu outposts. We had several passengers with us who were making the most of a free ride. Diane asked one of them, a young woman, to run for help, calling after her, “Tell them to bring horses. We need horses!” I thought to myself, Yeah, right. But about an hour later, three vaqueros (cowboys) came to our rescue. As this photo shows, Horse Power rocks!



After a fairly uneventful ride (one flat tire), we arrived at Iwokrama in time for a late lunch. Buddy hadn’t been seen all morning. The staff had begun to fear the worst. Fortunately, he showed up at the boat landing early in the afternoon, looking for a handout. While the staff fed him some freshly caught fish, Diane and I learned more about his history. He was one of a pair of young giant otters raised by an Amerindian couple at a nearby village. The female had been shot for killing a pet bird. The male had escaped — for now.



For the past five days, Buddy had been begging for food along a stretch of river frequented by fishermen as well as wild otters. He was exceptionally tame — this photo was taken without any zoom. Any of us could walk right up to him, which meant that his chances of surviving around Iwokrama weren’t good. He would soon become a nuisance at the field station, and if other otters didn’t kill him, there was a good chance that people would. On the other hand, moving him to Karanambu wouldn’t guarantee his safety. There were wild otters there, too.



I was relieved to see Buddy was generally in good health aside from the fly strike. As this photo shows, he has some old scars on his neck. There’s also a place where I can feel what I think is a fragment of a bullet or a pellet lodged under his skin. Fortunately, it’s small, and even if it’s made of lead, it shouldn’t do him any harm.



After Buddy finished eating, I learned how the staff had been able to see the maggots around Buddy’s rear and pick them out without getting bitten. The otter came up to the staff housing area to dry off, then curled up in a ball and began to suck on his private parts, making a continuous humming noise, the sound cubs make when they’re nursing. “Oh, no, he’s a pervert!” Diane exclaimed. Absorbed in this unattractive occupation, Buddy made it easy for me to examine his wounds.



Such behavior is unfortunately common among hand-raised carnivores — otters, foxes, and raccoons, for example. It can start early as displacement nursing, or later as the animal begins to mature sexually, and can become an ingrained, or stereotypical, habit associated with boredom. As you can tell from Diane’s reaction, she’d encountered the problem before. Above is a pair of earlier cubs, Pluto and Persephone, shown with their adopted wild pack. They nursed on each other’s tails and ears for a few months, but the behavior stopped once they went wild.

I’d noticed that Buddy had worn areas along the inside surface of each rear leg. Now I understood why. The fly strike made sense, too. The otter had been keeping his rear end moist, and/or exposed, and this had attracted the flies. But the good news was that he and Diane had already started to bond. Even better, he didn’t need anesthesia or surgery. Moving him to Karanambu might be enough to break the behavior.

For the rest of Buddy’s story, see the new blog I’m launching to support conservation at Karanambu. It will be called “Helping Otters —Big and Small” and will be posted on Wildlife Direct, a site that raises money for conservation through blogging. Diane has asked me to be a Trustee of the new charity. I said yes, of course!

Home Again ... Sort Of

08/07/2009

Providence, Rhode Island, Sept. 4, 2009 -- This is Nyandwi (ni-an-dwi), a young female mountain gorilla. She was my last patient before I left Rwanda, where I worked for nearly three years as a gorilla doctor for MGVP, Inc (www.gorilladoctors.com.) As you can see, Nyandwi wasn’t the least bit concerned about the loop of rope snare wrapped around her arm. But we were: the rope would eventually cut off circulation to her hand. We had to intervene. Fortunately, this didn’t happen often. I treated just 16 gorillas during my time in central Africa. But that was enough, given the fact that most of the problems we dealt with were human-induced — like Nyandwi’s snare. For more about her case, see my blog, "Gorillas in Peril."

One of the most important things I learned from my experience as a gorilla doctor was the need to keep one eye on the patient and the other on the bigger picture. We couldn’t treat the gorillas as if they were the only animals in their ecosystem. Their health was linked to the health of the local people, their livestock and the other wildlife in the park, in addition to the staff that visit them on a daily basis. Indeed, as field manager for MGVP, part of my job was to coordinate a number of programs designed to improve the health of the community surrounding the gorilla parks in Rwanda, Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo. We called this approach "one-health medicine." The use of sustainable sources of energy is just one example. Here’s a photo the of the cows whose manure is used as biogas (methane and carbon dioxide) for a human hospital in Rwanda.



Now that I’m home from Africa, my life has changed significantly. My best (canine) friend, Ptero (tay-ro) is with me, and we’ve moved to Newport, Rhode Island. In this photo, he’s enjoying a swim during our early-morning run.



Twice a week, I’ll be in Providence at Brown University, where I’m about to begin work as a visiting Assistant Professor in the psychology department. I’ll be teaching a course this fall on Comparative Primate Behavior, and one in the spring on "One Health." I’ll also be returning to private veterinary practice twice a week — it’s time for me to brush up on my internal medical skills. I’ll be working with dogs,cats and an assortment of birds, reptiles and pocket pets at the Wickford Veterinary clinic.

During the summer, not long after I returned home to the U.S., I decided to sneak in a few more adventures before starting my new jobs. I flew to South America for a month, where my first destination was the Karanambu Lodge in the North Rupununi region of Guyana. Before I moved to Africa, this was a place I visited at least once a year. The animal in this photo is one of the reasons I keep coming back: the giant otter, Pteronura brasiliensis.



Among the 13 species of otter found worldwide, this is one of the most endangered. It is also the largest in terms of absolute body size. Giant otters can weigh up to 45 kg (100 lbs) and measure up to six feet in length — a third of which is the powerful tail.

Diane McTurk is another reason I feel drawn to Karanambu. I’ve spent many wonderful weeks at her cattle ranch-turned-eco-lodge in the Rupununi region of Guyana — right in the middle of giant otter habitat. Unfortunately, giant otters are perceived as competitors for fish. Being fearless, adult otters are easily killed by fisherman. Their cubs are sometimes captured as pets — but it’s only a matter of time before they kill a chicken or bite a child. At that point, if they’re not killed in retaliation, they are brought to Diane, who raises them for return to the wild. She raised the two orphans in the photo, Tsunami and Sappho, as she has dozens of others.



Years ago, I worked out anesthetic techniques in river otters as part of a project helping biologists in North Carolina reintroduce otters to the western part of the state. I’ve been fascinated by all 13 species of otter ever since. When Diane and I first met in 1997, we talked otter nonstop. This is an old photo of us from that year, weighing an orphan named Peter.



Thanks to Diane, I’ve learned a great deal about this giant species over the years. She’s not only a superb hostess and dedicated conservationist, she also has a special touch with animals. She hopes to turn her family’s 125-square-kilometer ranch into a protected area.

The giant otters share their ecosystem with dozens of other animals, including jaguars, giant anteaters, harpy eagles, anacondas, caiman and hundreds of species of fish. In the dry season, the Rupununi River, which runs right through Diane’s ranch,is the center of activity, attracting all kinds of creatures in search of water and fish. During the rainy season (July through September), the savannahs flood, creating dozens of ponds and marshy areas. This is the hardest time of the year to see otters, because they have to move farther to find their next meal — the fish, of course, can go anywhere the water goes. It’s a stunningly beautiful place, as shown in this aerial photo.



Of course, there’s no guarantee that Diane’s orphans will survive back out on the river. The dangers include other wild otters, caiman alligators, and fisherman. Some have become so habituated to people that they jump right into boats to steal fish, a move that can be fatal. But at least Diane gives them a chance. Her giant otter rehabilitation program also means that guests at Karanambu may have a chance see one of these amazing creatures up close. The orphans are ambassadors for their species in the wild. This photo is of Buddy, Diane’s newest orphan, and my most recent giant otter patient. I’ll be writing about him next week.