This is Nyandwi (ni-an-dwi), a young female mountain gorilla.  She was my last patient before I left Rwanda, where I worked for nearly three years as a gorilla doctor for MGVP, Inc (www.gorilladoctors.com.)  As you can see, Nyandwi wasn’t the least bit concerned about the loop of rope snare wrapped around her arm.  But we were: the rope would eventually cut off circulation to her hand.  We had to intervene.  Fortunately, this didn’t happen often.  I treated just 16 gorillas during my time in central Africa.  But that was enough, given the fact that most of the problems we dealt with were human-induced—like Nyandwi’s snare. 

One of the most important things I learned from my experience as a gorilla doctor was the need to keep one eye on the patient and the other on the bigger picture. We couldn’t treat the gorillas as if they were the only animals in their ecosystem.  Their health was linked to the health of the local people, their livestock, and the other wildlife in the park, in addition to the staff that visit them on a daily basis.  As field manager for MGVP, part of my job was to coordinate a number of programs designed to improve the health of the community surrounding the gorilla parks in Rwanda, Uganda, and the Democratic Republic of Congo.  We called this approach “one-health medicine.”  The use of sustainable sources of energy is just one example.  Here’s a photo of a human hospital in Rwanda that uses biogas (methane and carbon dioxide) made from cow manure. 

Now that I’m home from Africa, my life has changed significantly.  My best (canine) friend, Ptero (tay-ro) is with me, and we’ve moved to Newport, Rhode Island.  In this photo, he’s enjoying a swim during our early-morning run.  Twice a week, I’ll be in Providence at Brown University, where I’m about to begin work as a visiting Assistant Professor in the Psychology department.  I’ll be teaching a course this fall on Comparative Primate Behavior, and one in the spring on “one health.”  I’ll also be returning to private veterinary practice twice a week—it’s time for me to brush up on my internal medical skills.  I’ll be working with dogs, cats, and an assortment of birds, reptiles and pocket pets at the Wickford Veterinary clinic. 

During the summer, not long after I returned home to the U.S., I decided to sneak in a few more adventures before starting my new jobs.  I flew to South America for a month, where my first destination was the Karanambu Lodge in the North Rupununi region of Guyana.  Before I moved to Africa, this was a place I visited at least once a year.  The animal in this photo is one of the reasons I keep coming back: the giant otter, Pteronura brasiliensis.  Among the 13 species of otter found worldwide, this is one of the most endangered.  It is also the largest in terms of absolute body size.  Giant otters can weigh up to 45 kg (100 lbs) and measure up to six feet in length—a third of which is the powerful tail.

Diane McTurk is another reason I feel drawn to Karanambu.  I’ve spent many wonderful weeks at her cattle ranch-turned-eco-lodge in the Rupununi region of Guyana—right in the middle of giant otter habitat.  Unfortunately, giant otters are perceived as competitors for fish.  Being fearless, adult otters are easily killed by fisherman.  Their cubs are sometimes captured as pets--but it’s only a matter of time before they kill a chicken or bite a child.  At that point, if they’re not killed in retaliation, they are brought to Diane, who raises them for return to the wild.  She raised the two orphans in the photo, Tsunami and Sappho, as she has dozens of others. 

Years ago, I worked out anesthetic techniques in river otters as part of a project helping biologists in North Carolina reintroduce otters to the western part of the state.  I’ve been fascinated by all 13 species of otter ever since. When Diane and I first met in 1997, we talked otter nonstop.  This is an old photo of us from that year, weighing an orphan named Peter.  Thanks to Diane, I’ve learned a great deal about this giant species over the years.  She’s not only a superb hostess and dedicated conservationist, she also has a special touch with animals.  She hopes to turn her family’s 125-square-km ranch into a protected area.

The giant otters share their ecosystem with dozens of other animals, including jaguars, giant anteaters, harpy eagles, anacondas, caiman, and hundreds of species of fish.  In the dry season, the Rupununi River, which runs right through Diane’s ranch, is the center of activity, attracting all kinds of creatures in search of water and fish.  During the rainy season (July through September), the savannahs flood, creating dozens of ponds and marshy areas.  This is the hardest time of the year to see otters, because they have to move farther to find their next meal—the fish, of course, can go anywhere the water goes.  It’s a stunningly beautiful place, as shown in this aerial photo.

Of course, there’s no guarantee that Diane’s orphans will survive back out on the river.  The dangers include other wild otters, caiman alligators, and fisherman.  Some have become so habituated to people that they jump right into boats to steal fish, a move that can be fatal.  But at least Diane gives them a chance.  Her giant otter rehabilitation program also means that guests at Karanambu may have a chance see one of these amazing creatures up close.  The orphans are ambassadors for their species in the wild.  This photo is of Buddy, Diane’s newest orphan, and my most recent giant otter patient.  I’ll be writing about him next week.