The Western lowland gorilla, dying off at the hands of bushmeat harvesters and through related Ebola infections. Photo by Arpingstone.
The New Scientist title has it right: Endangered species list is more bad news. The World Conservation Union (IUCN) has released the latest version of the Red List, a roster of endangered species with the severity of threat to their survival described, and the news just keeps getting worse.
Lowlights:
The woolly-stemmed begonia is declared extinct.
The western lowland gorilla is now considered to be “Critically Endangered” — at risk of going extinct at a moment’s notice, due to habitat pressure, bushmeat hunting and Ebola infection. The other subspecies of lowland gorilla, the Cross River gorilla, has been Critically Endangered since 1996.
The Sumatran orangutan is Critically Endangered.
The Po’o-uli, a bird of Maui, has not been seen since 2004, when probably the last two wild individuals were observed. It has been declared “Critically Endangered — Possibly Extinct”, a new designation for the IUCN.
The gharial is now Critically Endangered.
The first coral species ever listed as endangered — the Floreana coral and Wellington’s solitary coral — made it to the Red List this year. Both are Critically Endangered, the Wellington’s solitary coral being Possibly Extinct.
And a current topic of discussion on some progressive blogs is whether or not it’s too mean to suggest North Americans have kids at the replacement rate or lower.
I am seeing the blinking Warning Light of Misanthropy glaring on the path I am treading. I am not sure that’s a bad thing. I love people. I love art and literature and music, I love humor and architecture and science, and right now if you asked me whether I would trade all of human achievement for a world with western lowland gorillas…
I might tell you to read the book I finished in the Mojave last week, Alan Weisman’s The World Without Us, which offers a clear-eyed if somewhat optimistic scenario about post-human life thriving, despite PCBs and nuclear meltdowns.
Or I might tell you something I recently learned about Johnny Cash. In 1964 Cash was driving in the Los Padres National Forest in California and his truck caught fire. Before the fire, there were 53 condors living in Los Padres NF. After the fire, there were four. The 49 condors Cash killed were almost half the total world population of California condors. [Update: this book says nine survived. Either way.]
I love Cash’s music still, despite learning that at his hearing he professed not caring about “your damn yellow buzzards.”
But give me that magic wand, and offer me the chance to decide between a world where those 49 [update: or 44. Either way.] condors died in 1964, and a world without “Cry, cry, cry”? Not a moment’s hesitation there.
There is no human accomplishment so grand that it outshines a single damn yellow buzzard, and I would burn down the Library of Congress with myself in it if it gave the lowland gorilla another year.
That’s how I feel today.
Posted by: Chris Clarke
Categories:
Wildlife
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