Three ultra-endangered species that you’ve probably never heard of

Sick of the COVID-19 pandemic? Thankfully, our other major crises are still ticking along, waiting for us to pay attention again. Perhaps it’s time to revisit the biodiversity crisis.

I know that most of you are fed up of hearing that this, that, or the other species is threatened or endangered. It was cool when all anybody knew about was the tiger and the panda. But now every new fish, plant, or bird that you find out about seems to be on the brink.

Why can’t species just stick around?!

The main reason is habitat destruction. Destroying native wilderness to grow feed for meat animals (*cough* cattle *cough*), or biodiesel or palm oil or some other thing we have to grow to meet the swelling demands of our hungry, entitled, largely carnivorous western population. Invasive species, wild harvest, and climate change are among the other major factors contributing to the biodiversity crisis.

Saving individual species isn’t always all that useful. While many tigers live safe, happy lives in captive breeding programs, wild tigers face threats to their habitat that also threaten northern river terrapins, Salim Ali’s fruit bat, South Asian river dolphins, and a huge number of other species that share their habitat with tigers.

Save the rainforest, and you give all those species a chance as well. Save the tiger, and it may not have a home to go to.

With that in mind, some species are leaning so far over the edge of extinction that it’s a wonder they haven’t fallen off already. And there’s nobody at the bottom with a safety net. while we all know about animals with good PR campaigns, such as snow leopards, kakapo, and white rhinos, the vast majority of threatened or endangered species are largely unheard of.

Here are three examples. I have included information about why they are cool and important, but I think it’s sad that a species is only considered worth something because it’s cool and important. Dull, seemingly-replaceable species are still unique in their own right, and may have unknown significance. Besides, who are we to say whether or not they deserve to survive?

1: Canterbury knobbled weevil

State Highway 8 in the South Island of New Zealand takes many a tourist to the dark sky preserve and mountain lake of Tekapo. Gazing at the vast mountain scenery, colourful swathes of invasive lupin, and milky-blue waters, few people will notice the scrappy little patch of land that someone with a sense of humour has named Burke’s Pass Scenic Reserve.

But this tiny reserve is special. It is the only known remaining habitat of the Canterbury knobbled weevil, a giant alpine flightless beetle. I helped my friend Emily Fountain to count these curious lumpy insects, by painting numbers on their backs as if they were in a race. To me they resemble tiny elephants, all grey and wrinkled with long snouts and slow, deliberate, clumsy movements.

Emily and I were the first people to breed knobbled weevils in captivity. We were the first to observe them mating and see what their offspring looked like. To us, they are special, endearing, important. We wonder why the hell we aren’t world-famous from our efforts to conserve them. Why ecotourists don’t flock to Burke’s Pass trying to see them. Why people who light fires in the dry, flammable reserve aren’t put in prison for almost wiping out an entire species with their foolishness.

But, as my mother put it bluntly when I told her of our breakthroughs, “Nobody really wants to hear about a weevil”. Weevils aren’t sexy. They are pests, common garden creatures, bugs that are everywhere and unimportant. In a land of adorable giant parrots, brightly-coloured geckos, and nocturnal flightless badger birds, weevils don’t even get a look-in.

Conserving the weevil’s habitat, and ensuring that other populations of weevils are either created or discovered in case Burke’s Pass goes up in flames, would help ensure that Canterbury knobbled weevils continue to munch speargrass and feed skinks and birds in the future. Whether or not these projects will go ahead in a world with little funding and less enthusiasm about weevils, only time will tell.

2: Baishan fir

At the top of Mount Baishanzu stand three lonely adult fir trees. They and their seedlings are the last remaining Baishan firs.

The first attempts at conserving these lofty conifers were catastrophic. Two mature trees (29% of the species) were moved down the mountain and planted in Beijing Botanic Gardens. They died. In retrospect, perhaps taking a highly-sensitive alpine tree on a long journey to grow in a completely different habitat was unwise. But humans love to create captive populations of things, rather than dealing with the problem at its source.

The IUCN states that Baishan firs were reduced to pathetic numbers by deforestation for agriculture. As the forest tries to grow back, fast-growing, competitive species such as bamboos and flowering trees (angiosperms) thrive, while the Baishan fir doesn’t get a chance to bounce back.

Thankfully, Baishan firs have friends. Some people care enough about them to do everything in their power to boost their numbers. Researchers have cloned the remaining trees using cuttings and grafting. While the clones themselves don’t boost the diversity, their seeds have produced viable seedlings which have been replanted on Mount Baishanzu.

Captive breeding does not solve the problems faced by the firs. Climate change has caused increased storms and flooding on the mountain, which could easily whisk away adult trees and erode their habitat. But while China and the rest of the planet must fight climate change, at least for the near future there will be SOME Baishan firs.

3: Vaquita

Okay, maybe you HAVE heard of this one. After all, it is a cute little mammal. But I am surprised by how few people have heard of the vaquita and its plight.

I’m also surprised that it’s still kicking around. Nobody knows how many of these teeny porpoises are left, but it’s almost certainly fewer than 20. Blink and you’ll miss them: they won’t be around much longer. Shame, really. At just over a metre long, the vaquita is the smallest of all the cetaceans (whales, dolphins and porpoises). It weighs about as much as a Rottweiler. Beautiful soft grey markings and heavy use of eyeliner make vaquitas stand out amongst the other porpoises. But illegal fishing continues to drown them, and Mexico’s pathetic attempts at conserving them with a marine reserve and a short-lived preservation project are too little and too late.

We have never known the vaquita to be anything other than endangered. In the 70 years since its discovery, its numbers have dwindled from hundreds to tens to nearly none.

Nearly.

Where there’s life, there’s hope.

Most of us can’t do anything to save the vaquita, but Mexico’s government can. If Mexico pulls out all the stops and eliminates the use of gill nets and illegal totoaba fishing, maybe the remaining vaquita can survive and breed.

That probably won’t happen, but the vaquita’s last act needn’t be in vain. Its dying gasp should ignite a passion in all of us for saving what we already have, before it tumbles down the spiral staircase of vulnerable to endangered to critically endangered to extinct. We mustn’t allow the unsustainable harvest or destruction of species just because they’re not endangered yet. We mustn’t focus on hopeless cases while abundant species and their habitats decline.