“Stay there, stay there!” We quietly let the pangolins wait in the bushes. The ant-eating mammal couldn’t see what we could: it was blurry through the vegetation, heading straight for the PAWS of a waiting lion. As the pangolin quickly curled into a tight ball of armor, the young male lion nibbled at its impenetrable scales until it got tired of the game. The pangolin carefully unfurled itself and tried to shuffle away, but the big cat immediately pounced on his new toy. This scene was repeated repeatedly until, at sunset, the lion finally left.
I had to pinch myself. Seeing a pangolin on a safari is good luck, and seeing an interaction like this is even luckier. But my trip to the arid north of South Africa, where the Tswalu Kalahari Reserve is home to one of the world’s leading pangolin research teams, gave me the advantage.
Until recently, scientists knew almost nothing about pangolins. But their status as the second most trafficked mammal in the world after humans has helped draw attention to their plight. Since last year, they have also attracted global interest as a possible host for SARS-CoV-2, the new coronavirus that causes COVID-19.
Like many wildlife lovers, I’ve always been fascinated by pangolins. I’d love to see them in the wild, but I’d also love to learn from conservationists who study them. The animal is prized for its scales (used in traditional medicine) and meat. Most are sold in China and Vietnam, but there are markets in parts of Africa and the United States. There are eight species of pangolin, evenly distributed in Asia and Africa. The name comes from the Malay penggulung, meaning “roller” or “scroll”. The animals have poor eyesight and are preyed upon by many species, ranging from vulnerable to critically endangered. The Chinese pangolin population is believed to have declined by 94 percent since the 1960s. This rarity may explain the growing African trade. In South Africa, where I live, the Temink pangolin is listed as vulnerable.
To learn more, I set off to the Fida Private Game Reserve in South Africa’s eastern KwaZulu-Natal province, where a pioneering rerelease program is underway. Visitors can pay to watch the pangolins feed and watch them play, thereby funding their care. “Guests play an essential role. We would never have been able to do this without them, “said Simon Naylor, Fida’s conservation manager.
2019 Feda received the first pangolin from the Johannesburg Wildlife Veterinary Hospital. Before that, the last recorded sighting in the area’s rolling hills was in 1986. This is the first time the animals have been reintroduced to an area where they were locally extinct to expand their range into neighboring protected areas.
The reintroduction of large mammals such as lions or rhinos is familiar in African parks and reserves. Still, pangolins are certainly a tricky challenge for the simple reason that we know so little about them. “It’s high-intensity work,” Naylor said, something I saw firsthand during an afternoon hike with him and ecological monitors Charlie de Vos and Winston Pretorius.
We are looking for a giant male pangolin that has just arrived at the reserve and left its usual feeding spot. We followed the signal of his tracking tag, climbed over rocks and through thick undergrowth, and found him sleeping under some rocks next to the fence. Before we moved the pangolin back, we weighed it and found that its mass had decreased. As I wrapped my tight arms around the still-strangely heavy, musty creature, we noticed its breath rattling and pointy nose dripping. Naylor immediately drove him to a local vet, put him on antibiotics, and returned him to his den later that evening.
This is a reminder that pangolins are highly susceptible to disease. Under the pressure of trafficking and captivity, there have also been large numbers of deaths, although no one knows precisely why.
In fact, “we don’t know” is a phrase I’ve heard from many researchers. We need to find out how they navigate or if they’re territorial; Mating is rare in the wild. We’re trying to understand why they prefer certain ants or termites. But the more we know, the better we can protect them.
I witnessed a lion-pangolin standoff in Tswaru, about 350 miles southwest of Johannesburg, where I met two leading experts on pangolins. PhD candidates Wendy Panaino and Valery Phakoago are studying what animals eat and how climate change affects their life cycles. Visitors can join the ranks of Panahino and Pacogo.
I met the couple one night at the feeding grounds of a male pangolin they call HWP3. We followed him quietly, watching him dig a hole in the ground, sticking out his long tongue to catch ants. As we stood silently, he shuffled over comfortably and gently sniffed our shoes.
Squatting on the sand in the light of her headlamp, Pacogo expertly placed some ants into a jar. “My family thinks I’m crazy,” she said coldly. Over the next few nights, the pair continued to track HWP3, waiting for it to defecate so Phakoago could collect samples for her study. Panino and Paco danced quietly in the dark when the pangolins were finally liberated. “It’s like gold!” Phakoago said, scooping feces into a plastic bag.
No one said environmental protection was glamorous, but it is necessary. Between the scientific research carried out in Tswaru and the reintroduction in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa’s pangolins have a greater chance of survival. But there’s always more to learn. According to DeVos, “The more you think you know about them, the more you realize you don’t really know anything.”
