Britain's wildest places

FETLAR
Barbara Young, Chief Executive, Environment Agency

Fetlar lies to the east of Yell, is lush and green by Shetland standards, with a sparse population of 100 people, and it’s home to a considerable proportion of the UK’s red-necked phalaropes. Indeed, all but five of the red-necked phalaropes in the UK nest on the RSPB reserve at Fetlar.

Phalaropes, small birds the size of a starling, come back to Fetlar to breed and are often so tame that they run around your feet. Apart from their friendly disposition, the female red-necked phalarope, whose plumage is far brighter than the male, is a great role model. She arrives in Fetlar, larks around with the males, lays the eggs and then leaves the male to brood and rear the young on his own. While he slaves away looking after the kids, she spends the summer schmoozing about.

When not admiring the phalaropes, visitors can marvel at the awesomely wild landscape (once described to me as ‘mamba’ - miles and miles of bugger all), and on the way to and from the island, you will see puffins elbow-to-elbow on the seacliffs on the tangle of the other Shetland Islands, particularly at Sumburgh, where the plane from the mainland touches down.

And there’s much more to Shetland than Fetlar. On islands such as Egilsay, for instance, the moors and fields are crammed with wildflowers and nesting waders. Whooper swans stopover, and locals will tell you about - but never show you - the swan that took to killing sheep as a hobby. The history of these islands is long and eerie, too, so go prepared to be enthralled by the standing stones and circles of prehistory.

GLEN CLOVA
Robert Napier, Chief Executive, WWF

Glen Clova, about 50km north of Dundee and extending westwards from the flatlands of the Scottish east coast, is the place where I was nurtured and where my heart lies. A nature reserve and designated national scenic area, it nestles amid the hills and mountains of rural Angus, providing a bolt hole of tranquillity from the maelstrom of the Surrey commuter belt that is, for the moment, home.

Being brought up in Perthshire ensured a childhood of weekends and holidays exploring the countryside and revelling in the freedom a farm overlooking the Crieff Hills allows. Regular trips back to Glen Clova reveal an area of natural beauty free of cosmetic makeover and artificial enhancement. Arriving late on a Friday evening, watching the moonrise and the mist creep along the River South Esk at dusk is an enthralling sight.

Glen Clova is home to a myriad selection of flora and fauna, and each season offers its own programme of sights and sounds. A favourite time for me is the period just prior to the surrender of summer to autumn, when stags introduce their courting dance with a rutting fanfare and grouse play hide and seek among the undergrowth. The chattering ring ouzel vies for airplay with the whistle of the curlew, and flashes of red and green crossbills can be glanced among the conifers.

Last summer, walking to the top of Mount Driesh - at over 3,000ft, a classified munro - I passed the day mostly alone, with only the odd ptarmigan and dotterel, which was startled by my presence, and the more curious rabbits and deer, for company. Reaching the top, I was reminded again of my youth as, mesmerised by the blueness of the sky, I watched a golden eagle soar and wondered at the vast expanse of space.

I joined WWF because of my love of wild, unspoilt places such as Glen Clova and because I believe they should remain so. The challenge is to protect their natural beauty, while providing sustainable economic activity.

GOYTSIDE MEADOWS, NEW MILLS
Martin Doughty, Chair, English Nature

My favourite wild spot in the UK is a wildlife haven that could have been turned into an environmental disaster. It’s a habitat for many wildflowers, including bluebells and marsh marigolds in the spring and orchids, ragged robin and white eyebright in the summer. And it’s virtually on my doorstep in an area where I was born and brought up and have lived for the past 25 years.

Back in 1992, the Government announced plans for a bypass to link north-west Derbyshire to Greater Manchester. Horrified by the plans, the county council and the Peak District National Park Authority asked the wildlife trust to survey parts of the route where there was a potential conservation value - one of those areas was Goytside Meadows.

Though only a small site, the unimproved grassland, which abuts housing on the edge of New Mills, was found to be of significant wildlife value and home to a number of plants and insects rarely recorded elsewhere in Derbyshire. Indeed, the trust eventually determined that it was one of the last remaining examples of a habitat-type which had all but disappeared from local areas.

The work helped fuel the opposition to the road scheme, and in 1996 the Highways Agency abandoned it. Within two years, the new Government had agreed to sell the land to New Mills Town Council, which planned to develop it (now mostly realised) as a nature reserve.

I’ve long had an amateur interest in wildflowers and birds, but as much as anything, I just like to snatch an hour or two once a week to enjoy the tranquillity of the place. Part of the area is managed as a hay meadow, while the rest, including acid grass banks and extensive areas of marshy grassland, is grazed, mostly by a few horses these days. It’s here you’ll find the orchids, plus meadowsweet, marsh valerian and lesser spearwort. The funny thing is that that road scheme played a part in saving Goytside - without the original plans, the survey work would never have been done and we wouldn’t now know what an incredible habitat it is.

HANNINGFIELD RESERVOIR
Simon Lyster, Director General, the Wildlife Trusts

"Muddy wellies welcome," says the notice on the door of the Essex Wildlife Trust visitor centre at Hanningfield Reservoir, my little bit of heaven in south-east Essex. It epitomises the people-friendly attitude at this wildlife paradise just 55km from the centre of London.

When I tell people that I’m an Essex man and Essex is one of Britain’s best-kept wildlife secrets, I generally get some pretty withering looks. If I add that my favourite wildlife hotspot is less than 10 minutes from Billericay, the spiritual home of ‘Essex man’, the normal reaction is that I’ve completely lost it.

Well, I admit I am biased (I grew up on a farm on the edge of the reservoir), but I urge you to go and take a look for yourself. The place is stunning. Birdwatchers can clock up to 60 species on a summer’s day, and there’s usually a rarity, such as a passing osprey or goshawk, to stir the blood. Once, I even saw a greater-spotted cuckoo, and in autumn and winter, there are vast flocks of waterfowl.

But there’s more to Hanningfield than birds. I can almost guarantee to find a water vole within 15 minutes, while grass snakes and common lizards are plentiful, and there are bustling wood ant colonies and a wide variety of habitats, such as meadows, secondary woodland and reedbeds. The adjoining ancient woodland, Well Wood, has a mosaic of large trees, coppiced glades and ponds.

What’s more, Hanningfield caters for every type of visitor. If you want to enjoy a cup of coffee in the visitor centre and watch wildlife through the windows looking out on to the water, no problem. If twitching is your thing, there are plenty of hides to keep you happy. And if you just want a nice walk in the country, not far from London, the footpaths are excellent - plus you are certain to see something of interest, and it’s free.

Of course, Britain has more spectacular places for wildlife, and my colleagues in the Wildlife Trusts will kill me for favouring one out of the 2,300 nature reserves we manage. But if I’ve had a hard week, don’t want to travel far and need to see some wildlife to recharge my batteries, I head straight to Hanningfield.

DEVON & CORNWALL COAST
Charles Secrett, Executive Director, Friends of the Earth

Westward Ho! Clovelly. Tintagel. Marazion. The Lizard. Mevagissey. Lostwithiel. Looe. Ending, naturally enough, at Hope’s Nose or Beer Head. The roll-call of evocative place names floats through my mind, filling me again, as easily as the thick cream teas, fresh fish and potato-packed pasties.

Memories of Devon and Cornwall - deep-sea fishing expeditions or catching crabs from old harbour walls. Rip tides and rock pools. Exposed shales and occasional fossils. Tumbling cliffs and hanging woods. Coombes, tors and rusting mine shafts and tight little fields, marking the land as unique. These are places of adventure and discovery. Places of romance and legendary England, too, with compensations galore to escape the tacky, crappy shoppes, fume-filled highways and monopolised chain stores, which corrupt the peninsula’s ancient magic as cancer eats at bone.

I love this part of the world, because it kicks and tickles me alive every time I go or even remember. These are places ripe for chasing the wonders of the everyday - a burst open ammonite suddenly uncovered after millions of years and a thousand failed attempts; flapping plaice at the end of a beach-flung line; exploring the enfolding green darkness of mossy oaklands, where pixies just might have as good a chance of surviving as anywhere; giggling as snub-nosed mullet dart frantically through kelp fronds and clutching fingers, while the hermit c

rab settles down unhurriedly to hide in himself; of racing the incoming tide across flat sands and deep channels to safety, before disaster struck (boy, that was scary stuff and stupid); or standing mesmerised, cliff-top high above soaring crowds of mewling gulls (these days swooping more for tourist hand-outs than the shoals below), liquid-white splashes against black, wave-wet granite rocks.

Sure, there is too much ‘heritage’ for sale. Too many visitors striving to cram home pre-packed Cornish glories before they spoil. Too much straining for profit, in busy summer weeks, throughout the region’s creaking economy. Sure there is. But there is also more; much more of substance behind the façade of commerce run riot. Real people, real places, real life - and the tingling spark deep down that confirms you’ve arrived at somewhere very special, somewhere full of meaning.

When is a wild cat really a wildcat?

		When is a wild cat really a wildcat?
		While taking care of two abandoned wildcats until they were old enough to take care of themselves, Grace Laidlaw got the chance to experience first hand everything that distinguishes a wild feline from its domesticated relatives.
		1

My Mckittens
I am sitting under an oak tree with a wildcat at my feet. Birds protest loudly at her presence, as she rubs her cheek against mine, her wet teeth brushing my skin. Soon she will leave, turning once or twice to call to me, and weeks may pass before I see her again.

Their mother had been frightened off by a keeper out lamping for foxes on a grouse estate in the east of Scotland. He had discovered the two kittens, wet and angry, in a hole nearby. They had been born late in the season and were too young to fend for themselves, so he decided to find them a home on the west coast, where they could eventually be released into a wilder but safer place.

But, were they just feral orphans with particularly bad tempers? They certainly looked like wildcats, their soft coats patterned with striking stripes and spots in varying shades of grey and black. They used their short, hooped tails like big cats use theirs - standing straight up when pleased or excited, and tucked low on the ground when displeased or frightened. An encounter with one of my domestic cats produced the typical wildcat spit - ears flattened and mouths as red as their anger. Some claimed that my kittens couldn't be true wildcats if I could pick them up or stroke them. But, I had scars to prove just how wild they could be.

Training for freedom
The following summer, they began a training-for-freedom programme. Before leaving, they rewarded me with their company for a further six weeks, when I could watch them enjoy their freedom, racing up and down trees, hunting, or sleeping in the sun on the bough of a tree. They were so different from my domestic feline friends. They had a lion-like swagger, and their cries were unlike any I had heard before. They had no taste for cooked food, grew beautiful silver coats for the winter and shed them in the spring, and panted like dogs after running in the sun.

My wildcats now live independent lives in the dark pinewoods, and sometimes I hear their strange cries on a still night. It wasn't easy rearing these two little tigers, and even harder to let them go. I've shed blood and tears over them. But, in the end, they gave me far more than I ever gave them.

True wildcats?
Two thousand years of potential interbreeding with domestic cats, and persecution for its fur and as vermin, has taken a considerable toll on the Scottish wildcat, and doubt now surrounds whether true wildcats still exist at all in Britain. But recent research suggests that wildcats do prowl the Highlands and points a way forward for conserving Britain's only native feline.

A 1990 prosecution for the illegal killing of three wildcats failed because the expert witness could not identify them beyond reasonable doubt as wildcats. This confusion over the distinctions between wildcats, feral domestic cats and their hybrids prompted Scottish Natural Heritage (SNH) to make detailed measurements of wild-living cats either trapped alive or killed by game keepers and cars. The specimens fell into two groups. Group one had longer leg bones and shorter guts than group two and was associated with cold and dry regions of the eastern Highlands, making it a contender for the 'wildcat' label. But coat markings were highly variable in both groups, suggesting that visual identification is untrustworthy, and legal protection, therefore, problematic. "What is clear is that there is a group of wild-living cats in Scotland which have different characteristics to other cats," says SNH advisory officer for mammals, Mairi Cooper. "Whether these cats are true wildcats is something we are currently addressing."

Hybrids
Andrew Kitchener of the National Museums of Scotland in Edinburgh is more confident: "Yes, I think there is a wildcat out there, but there's an awful lot of hybrids too." In contrast to the SNH study, Kitchener found that certain features of the wildcat markings are closely correlated with other wildcat characteristics. But he doesn't believe there is any serious disagreement between the two studies, and he is now investigating whether the two groups of SNH cats can be separated by the coat characteristics he used. Researchers now await the results of a genetic study, which they hope will shed more light on the situation.

To prevent further hybridisation, Kitchener recommends that all domestic cats in the putative wildcat's range, are neutered (and inoculated against disease). He also advocates removing the incentive for gamekeepers to kill wildcats by finding ways to keep them away from gamebird-rearing pens. Protection of key habitats, alternatives to indiscriminate lamping and snaring of feral cats and an education program, Kitchener maintains, should also improve the survival prospects of this symbol of Scottish wilderness.

Plants that kill

		Plants that kill
		Discover the UK's carnivorous plants, and how they lure their victims to a nasty end. Words: Peter Marren Images: Adrian Davies/BBC NHU and Natural Image/Bob Gibbons

Spare a thought for the midges
Anyone who has sploshed over a peat bog on a still, hot day will know what paradises they are for insects, especially the biting sort. But spare a thought for those midges. British bogs are full of plants that have turned the tables on the insect world and will capture, kill and eat every gnat, bug and ant they can catch.

The best known carnivorous plants are the sundews, reddish, jewel-like plants covered with glistening blobs held on long hairs, like threads of glass. Then there are the butterworts, with exotic-looking flowers suspended above sticky leaves. Finally, and mostly under water, are the bladderworts, with what look like tiny flotation bags among the thread-like leaves.

Eleven species in Britain
We have three species of sundew, two butterworts and six bladderworts. Bladderworts are strange, stripped-down plants, without roots or much of a stem and, more often than not, without flowers either. They drift just below the surface in peaty pools and fen dikes, and become conspicuous only when the flowers appear above the water, like bright yellow flags. Unfortunately, most of the diagnostic features are in the flowers, which is why two species were overlooked until the 1980s.

How do bladderworts catch their prey?
Glue and fly-traps are easy to understand. But how do bladder traps work? Under the microscope, each transparent bladder has an inner coating of glands. These are capable of absorbing water, which creates a partial vacuum. Any tiny animal - water fleas, midge larvae and worms - touching the trigger bristles at the neck of the bladder is sucked inside in a millisecond. While the bristles block any escape, the versatile glands secrete enzymes, which slowly digest the edible parts of the luckless creature.

Carnivorous plants make sacrifices for their unusual way of life. Much of their energy is directed towards growing traps, which along with the production of digestive enzymes, reduces their photosynthetic efficiency. This way of life is limiting, and they are restricted to wet, low-nutrient environments in full sunshine. This makes them vulnerable.

Dropping numbers
Carnivorous plants are in decline throughout lowland Europe. It seems the plants are disappearing at a faster rate than their habitat, which means it cannot be just a question of drainage. The more likely cause is eutrophication. We have swamped the land and water in fertility chemicals. Increased soil fertility and murky, silt-laden water are bad for carnivorous plants, since they increase the competition from other vegetation, which effectively shades them out.

Carnivorous plants prove you don't need a brain and swift movements to be an efficient hunter. They demonstrate the extraordinary versatility of leaves. And they have become the most cunning of hunters, relying not on strength but on the universal lure of beauty and desire.

Find out more about Britain's native and introduced plants at www.plantlife.org.uk

Lifespan of Birds

How long does a bird live?
by Dr Mike Hounsome

A Dunnock in a garden in Britain. Contrary to popular belief, most adult small garden birds in Britain live only for around 1¼ to 1½ years.

"How long does a bird live?" is one of the questions ornithologists are always being asked and there is not a simple answer. There is a great difference between the various types of bird and there is a great difference between the average length of life and the greatest length of life.

Many years ago David Lack was addressing an audience of learned ornithologists on the subject of his studies on Robins. He said that the average life expectancy of a Robin was a little over one year. He was laughed off the stage. Everybody knew that they have had a Robin in their garden for years and they were sure that it was the same one.

But he was right. And it takes only a moment’s thought for anyone to work it out. No need for complicated modern maths - anybody can do it.

There are about as many Robins this year as there were last year (populations usually fluctuate about an average); so if there was a pair in your garden last year then there is a pair this year. But in the mean time that original pair has had, say, two broods of five young - that is ten new Robins. But by the start of the next breeding season there are only two. So:

2+10=2

So how many have died? Obviously, ten. So out of twelve (2+10) birds, ten have died - that’s more than 83%. Ringing studies have shown that about 60% of the adult Robins die each year, so of the original two adults only 0.8 of a bird will be alive this year (yes, 0.8 of a bird is nonsense but we are talking about averages here), so for us to have two birds again this year 1.2 (2 minus 0.8) birds must have entered the population. In other words, those ten young have resulted in only 1.2 adults - that’s an 88% mortality.

Much of that ‘infant mortality’ happens in the nest or shortly after fledging. Ringing studies have shown that the first year mortality of young once they have fledged is about 72%.

Robins are a familiar bird in many British gardens.

So are we any nearer answering the question "How long do birds live?". Well, I’m afraid that we have to do a little bit of maths now. The opposite of mortality is survival. Both can be written as a percentage or as a fraction of one, for example a mortality of 83% can also be written as 0.83 and usually in these kind of studies we use this fraction-of-one method. So if the mortality is 0.83 the survival is 0.17 (17%) because if 83% died then 17% (100-83) must have lived. We can now answer the question, for Robins at least. There are two expressions that are used for calculating life expectancy: the first one is more straightforward:

So if the mortality is 0.6 (as it is for adult Robins) then the life expectancy is 1.2 years.

The other expression uses natural logarithms, so you have to use a calculator (the natural log button is labelled ‘Ln’):

In the case of our Robins, if the mortality is 0.6 then the survival is 0.4 (i.e. 1-0.6) and the life expectancy is 1.1 years.

Which one is correct? Ornithologists usually use the second one because it fits into several other equations that are used in studying bird populations. But as you can see, the simple equation gives almost the same answer.

Most of our common small birds have similar survival rates and life expectancies. Adult survival rates are usually between 0.4 and 0.6 with first-year survival rates often being between 0.1 and 0.2 - so roughly a half of all the adult birds and nearly ALL the baby birds you see will be dead in a years time. It’s a sad thought, but this has to happen if the population is to remain roughly constant.

Generally, large birds and seabirds live longer than small birds. Albatrosses live so long that it is hard to calculate their survival rates - they can live longer than the metal rings that identify them, and probably longer than most humans.

Even little seabirds like Storm Petrels live a remarkably long time - about seven years on average for adults - and they take about four or five years to reach adulthood.

But there is a very big difference between the average life expectancy and the maximum one and the maximum known age for a Storm Petrel is over 31 years! And the oldest known Robin was 8½ years old. Even very small birds can live a remarkably long time; for instance, the oldest Marsh Tit was more than 10 years old and there has been a 21 year old Blue Tit! These are species for whom the average life expectancy is only just more than one year, so you can see how very much better than average these particular individuals are. Their contribution to the subsequent generations is ten or twenty times as much as the average individual’s so it’s easy to see how natural selection could work.

Although most adult Blue Tits live for only a little over a year, at least one has been known to live for 21 years!

So, the answer to our question is that most adult small birds in temperate regions such as ours live for between 1¼ and 1½ years, but that only about 10-20% of young reach adulthood. Big birds, seabirds and tropical birds can live much longer. But some individuals of any species can live as much as ten times as long as the average - that’s like an exceptional human living for about 800 years!

All of this information refers to wild birds; birds in captivity can live to much greater ages - even exceeding the longest lived wild birds.

Kashmir burns world’s largest fur stockpile from endangered species

Wildlife authorities today torched a huge pile of banned wildlife furs and skins as part of the government’s effort to stop an illegal trade that threatens to wipe out many of India’s most endangered species.

Under the orders of the High Court, 8 truckloads of stockpiled pelts were burned by state officials in a public display of destruction, in the northern Indian state of Jammu & Kashmir. Incinerated items included skins, rugs, fur coats and gloves made from dozens of tiger, snow leopard, leopard, hill fox, leopard cats, black bear, otters and wolves. All species are protected under the Indian Wildlife Protection Act 1972, the Jammu & Kashmir Wildlife Protection Act 1978 and the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES).

The huge stock, estimated to be worth several million US dollars, came from more than 125,000 articles surrendered by furriers from the Kashmir Valley region. The fur traders were forced to give up their illegal stash by the court, which will oversee a compensation scheme for the animal skins worth almost $2,500,000 USD.

Ashok Kumar, trustee of the Wildlife Trust of India, lit the pyre. He said: “This is a hugely significant moment. Going up in flames was the largest single agglomeration of wildlife skins anywhere in the world. Compensation will be given to those furriers who willingly surrendered their stock. It is a small price to pay to protect endangered species from the decimation of poachers.

“The job of enforcement officials throughout the region will be much easier now as any new stocks that are found will be seized immediately and the trader brought to justice. Wild species have respite from the Kashmir fur trade, although at no time can we give up the battle.”

Chief Wildlife Warden for Jammu & Kashmir, A. K. Srivastava, said: “We have waited many years for this moment. This historic event is taking place with the support of the local community, in an open and transparent manner, for the ultimate protection of our precious wildlife.”

Kashmir has historically been the centre of the wild animal skin trade, with specimens being brought into the Valley from all parts of India. This is demonstrated by the existence of the head of an Asiatic lion, which lives exclusively in the western state of Gujarat, in the stockpile.

The first truckload of illegal skins was burnt in Srinagar in October. Today’s burning begins to destroy the remainder of the 127,326 items held in storage by the Forest Department. The total tally includes: tiger (45 skins, 44 heads and 14 manufactured items), snow leopard (104 skins, 1 head and 25 items), black bear (120 skins and 5 mounted heads), leopard (422 skins, 115 heads and 435 items), jungle cat (33,235 skins and 6,255 items), one lion head and one Tibetan antelope skull.

Robbie Marsland, UK Director of IFAW, witnessed the burning and said: “Like Kenya’s burning of stockpiled ivory in 1989, I hope these flames send a strong message to consumers around the world that the trade in endangered species is illegal and totally unacceptable in today’s society.”

Endangered Plants Focus of New Study

ST. LOUIS — Species conservation doesn't just apply to faraway rain forests or endangered whales.

A network of botanical institutions is launching an unprecendented study of endangered native U.S. plants to determine their potential for recovery -- and in hopes of preventing their disappearance. Those plants range from the Western lily to the Tennessee coneflower, says the Center for Plant Conservation.

The center, a St. Louis-based nonprofit organization comprising more than 30 botanical organizations around the country, was founded in 1984 to stop the extinction of native plants. Center officials said an analysis of this scale has never been performed before at a national level.

The center estimates that about 2,000 U.S. plant species, or about 10 percent of the nation's native flora, are at risk of extinction.

The roughly $500,000 study aims to look at endangered or threatened plants and also those being considered for listing under the Endangered Species Act. Much information has already been gathered on endangered plants, but the new study, due for completion at the end of 2006, will bring it together and update information to provide an overall snapshot of the current plant populations.

Study participants will not go into into the field to gather data, rather they'll bring together information, much of it in databases, already gathered by federal workers, contractors and amateur botanists on endangered species.

The study of more than 800 species will give federal agencies information about how much of an endangered plant species they have on their lands.

"We're going to try to let them know what they've got, about the robustness of their populations and how what they've got stacks up against what's available for recovery," said Kathryn Kennedy, the center's executive director. The study will also provide a summary of which species are most dependent on private lands for recovery.

The information could lead to new partnerships between organizations trying to bring back a self-sustaining plant population, or help them set budgets and priorities related to endangered plants.

Center officials also hope the study will reveal success stories, plants no longer in danger because of recovery programs.

Diversity in nature is important because a plant's extinction could lead to declines for animal, insect, other plant populations and the environment, said Bruce Rittenhouse, the center's conservation programs manager.

"They are the canary in the coal mine," he said. "They are the signals of health."

In addition to food, plants provide fiber, fuels and pharmaceuticals for human use.

Eighty percent of rare plants are closely related to economically important plants, Kennedy said, and plant breeders have found traits in rare wild plants that have proven useful to the others. Native plants in the U.S. have properties used to treat sickness, fight agricultural pests and improve crops.

Kennedy said the study also will be essential to other work done by the center. For instance, the botanical network maintains the National Collection of Endangered Plants, which the center believes is the largest living collection of rare plants in the world.

The collection includes hundreds of the nation's most imperiled native plants. An imperiled plant is one vulnerable to extinction because of habitat loss, invasion by exotic species, over-collection of the plant or pollution.

In the collection, live plant material is collected from nature and then maintained as seed, cuttings with roots or mature plants.

Scientists use the banked seeds and plants both to stabilize existing populations of imperiled plants and to reintroduce new populations in proper habitats.

The new study is being done in partnership with the Washington-based nonprofit conservation organization NatureServe. The center's network of botanical institutions will take part in the study, which is funded by the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation, the Henry Luce Foundation, Chevron Texaco and the St. Louis-based Edward K. Love Conservation Foundation.

Central Americans Save Plant Diversity Through Local Cultivations

ScienceDaily (Nov. 12, 2005) — In a refreshing twist, humans have been shown to be part of the solution to the issue of decreasing genetic diversity in our world rather than part of the problem. Global genetic diversity is being eradicated through any number of human-driven activities, the removal of large scale forests key among them.

---

See also:

Plants & Animals

• Evolutionary Biology
• Wild Animals
• Agriculture and Food
• Nature
• Trees
• Endangered Plants

Reference

• Monoculture
• Heirloom plant
• Agroecology
• Inbreeding

Now researchers at Washington University in St. Louis report that farmers and families in Central America actually have saved genetic variation in the jocote (ho-CO-tay), (Spondias purpurea), a small tree that bears fruit similar to a tiny mango. And they've done this by taking the plants out of the forest, their wild habitat, and growing them close to home for family and local consumption.

Allison Miller, Ph.D., a post-doctoral researcher at the University of Colorado, and former graduate student at Washington University, and Spencer T. Olin Professor of Biology Barbara Schaal, Ph.D., from Washington University, in conjunction with Peter Raven, Ph.D. Engelmann Professor of Botany and Director of the Missouri Botanical Garden, have shown multiple domestications of the jocote in Central America in the midst of large-scale deforestation, a practice that endangers genetic diversity.

Weeding out genetic diversity

One effect of modern-day agriculture is the eradication of genetic diversity, as growers select hardy plants that grow vigorously, and continually "weed out" genetic diversity through the selection process.

"Many of the crops are so highly domesticated that they don't have much genetic variation, and we are kind of looking at them after they've been highly domesticated and produced these elite varieties," Schaal explained.

In a paper published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Science (2005, Aug. 26), Miller identifies the various wild and cultivated jocote species and indicates that cultivation of the jocote has preserved genetic diversity. Genetic diversity has been estimated to have decreased by as much as 80 percent in cultivated populations through the last century, so it's quite a remarkable occurrence when domestication is identified as being a process for preserving genetic diversity, rather than limiting it.

With less than two percent of the Central American tropical dry forests remaining, jocotes would be significantly limited if it were not for the cultivation of the species.

Miller, primary author on the study, collected over 96 samples of S. purpurea through field studies in Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico, Nicaragua, and Panama. In each of eleven geographic regions, samples were taken from wild and cultivated habitats. Polymerase chair reaction amplification of DNA extracted from the jocote samples allowed for analysis of the chloroplast spacer, a commonly used molecular marker in botanical studies.

The authors say that, through multiple domestications in arenas such as living fences — fences made of plants like jocotes — crops, orchards, trees cultivated in backyards and forests, genetic diversity in the jocote has been preserved.

This is the "first phylogeographic evidence of multiple domestications of a cultivated fruit tree in the Mesoamerican center of domestication," said Miller. With at least 180 common names in various languages for the jocote, the fact that the mature fruits can be green, yellow, orange, red or violet, have varying lengths of a few centimeters, and varying textures (chalky, juicy) and tastes (sweet to acidic), it can be said that there is considerable variation in the species.

The wild fruits are generally bright red, smaller, and more acidic than cultivated varieties. In contrast to cultivated varieties, which reproduce through cuttings, wild jocotes reproduce by seed, indicating that domestication has altered the species.

By taking the jocote out of its natural, wild habitat and planting them in living fences and other means of cultivation, farmers in the Mesoamerican region have helped to preserve the jocote's diversity, the authors note.

"I think it is really amazing to consider that the food we eat today, the foods we find in grocery stores, originated in all different parts of the globe," said Miller. "For me, it is interesting to think that every crop species, including even a little-known fruit tree from Mexico and Central America, has an involved and unique evolutionary history."