Please You Humans! We want to die in our own way.
The call came about 11:00 PM. I was surprised to hear the breathless voice of Yemaya, one of several volunteers working on environmental projects at Hacienda Barú National Wildlife Refuge. She had gone along to assist the guide on an overnight rain forest camping tour. "Jack," she exclaimed, "I don't know what to do. I have a baby sloth. I think it fell out of a tree, and It needs help. I brought it down to the office."
On the overnight rain forest tour we call the "Night in the Jungle," the guide always takes the visitors on a nocturnal hike. During the walk they had come across a very young sloth laying on the ground. Probably it had fallen from the canopy. It was small, helpless and Yemaya thought it needed medical attention. "What can I do?" She asked "If I don't do something it will die."
Knowing that my answer was not going to please her, I asked Yemaya to take the baby sloth back up into the rain forest and return it to the place where she found it. I tried to explain that nature's ways sometimes seem cruel. Finally, with this entirely unsatisfactory rationale and the promise of a more in-depth explanation later, Yemaya reluctantly walked back up to the jungle and returned the infant sloth to the forest floor.
In another incident involving an injured animal an excited visitor, who had been hiking on one of Hacienda Barú's self-guided trails, came running into the reception office, all out of breath. She excitedly explained to my wife, Diane, that a hawk was caught on a barbed wire fence and needed help. Diane quickly found a pair of wire cutters and accompanied the concerned lady to the sight of the accident. Between the two of them they managed to subdue the terrified bird, cut the wire and bring the scared and injured creature back to the office. When I arrived a short time later Diane had the raptor's head covered with a cloth in an effort to keep it calm. A short piece of barbed wire was sticking out of it's right wing and twisted around in the feathers. One of the barbs was deeply imbedded in the skin.
I identified the bird of prey as an immature double-toothed kite (Harpagus bidentatus.) The wing wasn't broken, and the damage didn't appear to be extensive. We moved outside, and I went to work with a pair of wire cutters and pliers. It took about five minutes to free the magnificent predator of it's impediment. The barb had penetrated only the skin on the wing, and there was no evidence of muscle or bone damage. As I reached for some antiseptic to disinfect the wound, Diane's makeshift hood momentarily slipped from the bird's head. With a quick lunge and flexing of the wings it freed itself from Diane's grasp and took to flight. Landing on a branch a couple of meters away, the young kite turned and looked back at us as if to say thanks, and then flew away to more familiar surroundings.
So what was the difference between these two cases. Why did I help the raptor and not the baby sloth? I can just see those of you who know Diane and I. You're probably smiling, nodding your heads and thinking, "What a coward. He orders a young innocent volunteer to dump that poor helpless baby sloth out in the jungle, but he's too chicken to tell his wife to do the same with the hawk. He probably didn't even tell Diane about the sloth." But before you pass judgment, why don't we look further into this theme? Maybe there's more here than meets the eye. Let's look at another couple of examples before we delve into an explanation.
A few years ago a neighbor girl showed up at our house with a pelican in her arms. About half of one of its wings was dangling helplessly, obviously broken. This time, Diane was taking a nap. "Hi Shirley," I said. "What's with the pelican?"
"It has a broken wing," she replied. "I brought it so Doña Diana could fix it."
"Well, Diane isn't here right now." I lied. "Are you sure you want her to fix the bird's wing? It looks beyond help to me."
"Yeah," she insisted, "I'm sure. She can just cut off the part that's hanging down, just like she did with that parakeet that belongs to that gringo from Matapalo."
"I see." I mused. "And where are you going to get the money to buy fish with?"
"What are you talking about?" Asked Shirley. "I'm not going to buy any fish."
"Well, what's this pelican of yours going to eat after Diane cuts it's wing off? As far as I know the only thing that pelicans eat is fish, and one this size is going to need at least a couple of kilos a day." From the look on her face I knew Shirley was getting the idea. It was time to go for the kill. "You're going to need a pretty good job so you can earn enough money to feed it. With one amputated wing it won't be able to feed itself." It didn't take any more than that. Shirley promptly accepted my suggestion that she return the disabled pelican to the beach where she found it. I don't think Diane ever found out about this one. Not until she reads this, that is.
On another occasion a kind hearted gentleman showed up with an infant anteater. He explained that some dogs had badly injured the baby's mother, and he was sure she would die. Not understanding the difference between a wildlife refuge and a wildlife rescue center, he brought the infant anteater to Hacienda Barú. I took the baby tamandua to Diane. She nurtured it for a couple of days according to instructions from the veterinarian at the, now defunct, Jardìn Gaia Wildlife Rescue Center in Manuel Antonio. On the third day she took it to Jardín Gaia, where they cared for it until it reached an age when it could be reintroduced into the wild. They eventually released it in a rain forest near the Savegre River.
"How do I decide whether to be cruel of kind?" you ask. Or maybe you asked, "Why does Jack hate sloths and pelicans and love hawks and anteaters?
It's really not that much of a puzzle. The baby sloth had fallen for some reason unknown to us. Maybe it had a genetic defect. Maybe it was sick and too weak to hang on. The important thing is that its mother had no interest in retrieving it. Mother sloths never try to rescue fallen young. What is good for the individual may not be good for the species. Defective or weak individuals don't survive to reproduce, and their defective genes are not passed on to offspring. The unwritten rule for baby three-toed sloths (Bradypus variegatus,) is this. If you can't hang on to mom by yourself we don't want you perpetuating our species. Get your butt out of our gene pool. Harsh, you say? Yes, but it keeps the species fit.
The raptor was a little different. Its misfortune was caused by humans. Nature didn't put barbed wire in the double-toothed kite's habitat. Humans did. I figured that since it was my fence that the hawk got hung up on, it was my responsibility to do what I could to remedy the situation. Fortunately the damage was only minor and the young predator lived to hunt again, maybe even to prey on baby sloths.
With the Pelican we're back to mother nature again. Humans did nothing to break the bird's wing. This type of misfortune befalls pelicans frequently. Over the years, I have seen several pelicans with broken wings. The bird might have been old or undernourished or even had the avian equivalent of osteoporosis. Maybe it was just an unlucky accident. The point is that mother nature determined that the individual in question should perish, and who am I to argue with mother nature. If Diane had been awake when Shirley brought it by the house, I'd probably still be buying fish for that unfortunate pelican. By returning it to the beach it served a purpose in nature by becoming food for crabs and vultures.
In the case of the anteater, the damage was done by a domestic dog, someone's pet. Additionally I believe the man who brought it to me was mistaken. I don't believe that a dog could have fatally injured a mother anteater (Tamandua mexicana.) Usually, it is the dog that gets ripped open by the anteater. The anteater rolls onto its back and, when the dog goes for the kill, the anteater digs its long curved claws into the flesh of the dog's face and neck and slashes. The anteater remains on its back in this defensive posture until the dog leaves. I believe that the man saw the mother tamandua in this position and mistakenly thought that she was near death.
So he picked up the baby, lying a short distance away, and brought it to me, thinking he was saving its life. Mother nature didn't put misfortune in the baby tamandua's way. It was a human pet that caused the incident, and this was probably compounded by human error. Nature wasn't dictating the death sentence on this youngster, human beings were. Fortunately, we were able to save it and return it to its natural habitat.
We hear a lot about animal rights these days. In the wild animals don't have rights. They are born in a highly competitive environment where only the very fittest survive. All have an opportunity to fight for survival, nothing more. Animals that die aren't lost. They become food for other living things. Their bodies are consumed by predators and scavengers, insects, fungi and bacteria. They are broken down into basic elements for reuse. The nutrients are all cycled back into the ecosystem and are assimilated by other plants and animals. We've all heard the term "food chain." I think that "nutrient cycle" would be more appropriate. The most important lesson the rain forest has for us is that every living thing, sooner or later becomes food for some other living thing. That even includes us.
If you find an injured animal, you may wish to apply this criteria to the case. The most important thing to remember is that when you take in a wild animal, you and only you are responsible for it. Don't expect someone else to take it off your hands, and don't try to dump it in someone else's lap. Also, you should keep in mind that it is illegal to keep wild animals in captivity without a permit, even if, in your view you are helping it. If you decide to care for the animal and try to get it into a rescue center, keep in mind that rescue centers are all overburdened with wildlife and are drastically under funded. They are very appreciative of any financial help you can provide when you take the animal to them. Caring for wildlife is expensive and the only funding these places have comes from donations.
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