Wildlife Researchers’ Good Intentions Often Can Be Deadly for Animals

Everything was going as planned, until elk began to die.

A helicopter swooped in over the herd and a marksman leaned out, firing tranquilizer darts at elk fleeing across the meadow. Animals hit with darts soon began to weave and stumble, watched by workers waiting to move in once they dropped.

The capture, conducted in March to relocate wild elk from a burgeoning population in western Washington to a failing herd 80 miles away, looked as if it would go without a hitch, wildlife officials recall.

Then one of the tranquilized elk bolted into a rain-swollen creek. As narcotics coursed through its body, the normally strong swimmer flailed about, drowning as its head slipped beneath the rushing water.

A second elk ran into the woods, staggering as the drugs took effect. Pitching down, the animal buried its nostrils into soft earth and lay there, unable to move, until it suffocated.

Two other elk collapsed in the open, but by the time they were blindfolded and strapped onto pallets for transport, they were having trouble breathing. Their systems were shutting down from the trauma of the chase and the drugs; they died within minutes.

It’s a side of wildlife research and management seldom seen by the public: A surprising number of wild creatures are inadvertently killed or injured by the scientists entrusted to protect them.

Wildlife biologists do more these days than venture into nature with notepads and binoculars.

Animals are chased, darted, netted, drugged, tagged, banded and radio-collared. They are cut open and implanted with satellite transmitters. They are caught in leghold traps, then released and caught again.

Decisions about how much death, injury and harassment to allow in the pursuit of science are left largely to the wildlife managers and researchers themselves.

“Anytime we lose an animal, it’s not a good day,” said Jack Smith, who ran the elk capture for the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife. “But if you don’t go into an operation expecting that you’re going to lose a few animals, then you’re not being properly realistic.”

Marc Bekoff disagrees. An animal-behavior expert who has written books on the intelligence and emotional life of animals, he believes researchers have obligations to the animals they study.

“The methods you use are set up by the philosophy you have. If you think it’s OK to let individual animals die, it can be a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Wildlife researchers often underestimate the effect they have on their subjects, said Bekoff, who teaches biology at the University of Colorado.

“Wild animals are living on the edge,” he said. “They’re trying to get food and water, they’re trying to survive. They can’t tolerate stress.”

Some stressful moments in the wild:

* In Colorado, efforts to reintroduce Canada lynx have been particularly deadly. Four of the first five lynx released in 1999 died of starvation. Biologists later improved their methods, fattening up lynx between their capture in Alaska or Canada and their release in the Colorado Rockies, but even so, at least 42 of the 96 lynx released to date have died, and more than a dozen are missing.

* In Alaska’s Prince William Sound, satellite transmitters surgically implanted in scoters in 1998 and 1999 led to the death of about 40% of the sea ducks within two weeks. The implanted scoters kept to themselves, away from their flock, making them easy pickings for predators.

* In Oregon, government biologists investigating the poor survival rate of young pronghorn antelope made matters worse. Fourteen of the 20 pregnant pronghorns they captured in March 1997 died of “capture myopathy,” a wasting of muscle that can occur when animals overheat from the trauma of being chased or handled.

* In Kaktovik, Alaska, Eskimo villager Isaac Akootchook seethes about government scientists who have buzzed around the nearby Arctic National Wildlife Refuge in recent years, studying wildlife for the debate over oil drilling.

One winter’s day about four years ago, Akootchook said, a polar bear wandered into town, acting strangely. Fearing for their safety, villagers shot the bear and then noticed a radio collar around its neck. Akootchook’s photos show the bear’s fur rubbed off by the collar, its skin red and raw.

“It was going to die,” Akootchook said. “It got infected because of the collar, and we couldn’t even eat it.”

Wildlife researchers say some mortality is inevitable.

The day that four elk died in Washington, Smith’s team successfully captured 20 others, for a mortality rate of 17%. Overall, the five-day relocation effort killed eight elk but successfully moved 81, for a 9% mortality rate.

“We would definitely do it again,” Smith said. “We were within what we consider acceptable limits.”

Smith said things have improved since earlier days of wildlife research and management, when conservation of game animals was the primary focus. In those days, since the animals studied were likely to be shot later by hunters, there was less concern about killing them in research. If the overall wildlife population increased, that meant success, even if some individuals died along the way.

This all’s-well-that-ends-well philosophy still permeates research and management, according to animal-rights activists. They argue that wild animals should be viewed not as commodities but as beings with a right to live free of undue suffering.

“There should be more of a humane consideration in research,” said Michael Markarian, executive vice president of the Fund For Animals, based in Maryland. “Researchers sometimes look at the species as a whole without looking out for the welfare of the individual animal.”

John Pierce, chief scientist for the wildlife division of the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife, said researchers have grown more concerned about individual animals during the last 30 years.

“In this day and age, it’s a given that animal-welfare concerns are a major part of our plans,” Pierce said. “It’s a matter of ongoing attention, discussion and improvement.”

Ethical issues aside, intrusive research can change the behavior that scientists hope to observe. Science journals are full of studies documenting so-called instrument effects:

* Wing tags induced ruddy ducks to spend less time courting and more time sleeping.

* Ear tags on white-footed mice kept them from grooming away ticks.

* Mallards wearing 1-ounce radio transmitters rested and preened more, started their nests later and laid fewer and smaller eggs.

* Scientists studying endangered Hawaiian honeycreepers used radio transmitters with long, limp antennas, only to find birds hanging helplessly from tree limbs, entangled by the antennas.

Sometimes the sheer volume of research--even sensitive, well-designed research--can cause problems.

At Yellowstone National Park, one of the world’s most intensely studied natural areas, about 50 wildlife research projects are going on at any given time. The airwaves are crowded with radio transmissions from collared grizzlies, elk, coyotes, wolves, mountain lions and bison.

It’s hard enough coordinating the scientists, never mind the uninvited wildlife enthusiasts who cruise around the park with illegal receivers, homing in on telemetry signals.

“We’re out there trying to do wolf recovery, and we’re bumping into people who are too close to these critters,” said Glenn Plumb, a park biologist.

At the same time, Yellowstone is considered a model for research that considers both animal welfare and the sensitivities of park visitors.

A full-time employee keeps track of research proposals, which must be reviewed first by academic peers and then by a park committee that includes rangers and naturalists, who must answer to visitors protective of the park’s wildlife.

Elsewhere in America’s fields and forests, the level of official scrutiny applied to wildlife research varies according to who’s doing it and where it’s done--despite attempts by the federal government and research organizations to set standards.

Research institutions that receive federal money must establish “animal care and use committees” to evaluate projects. Professional groups including the Wildlife Society and the American Society of Mammalogists also publish recommendations for good field techniques.

“In theory, they’re good guidelines,” said Markarian, of the Fund for Animals. “But usually they’re mostly for looks. The committee will be made up of researchers themselves. Once in a while, they’ll put a token animal-welfare person on there, but it’s not the kind of unbiased committee you’d hope for.”

Bekoff said state wildlife managers are subject to even less formal review than academic researchers. He called Colorado officials “unethical and disingenuous” for trying to reintroduce lynx while knowing from the start that half their released animals might die.

But other wildlife researchers say it’s worth risking some death and injury if there’s a chance of helping a wildlife population imperiled by human activities.

“You hate to think you’re learning at the expense of these animals, but you realize it’s never been done before,” said Russell George, director of Colorado’s Division of Wildlife.

Indeed, study methods are improving. Telemetry devices for tracking wildlife have grown smaller and lighter. Satellite tracking allows researchers to monitor animals with less intrusion. New immobilizing drugs have wider tolerances, so an overdose is less likely to kill an animal.

Scientists have an obvious interest in reducing the number of animals killed by their studies, Bekoff said, but they often neglect another option: Leave the animals alone.

Animal-rights advocates say concerns about career advancement, the pressure to publish and the use-it-or-lose-it nature of grant money can tempt scientists to engage in research that does more harm than good.

“A big question is deciding whether to do the work at all,” Bekoff said. “There’s a bias toward doing things, because that’s what they get paid to do.”