To Karanambu

Karanambu, Guyana, Sept. 16, 2009 — When Diane McTurk and I first met in 1997, she was taking care of an orphaned giant otter named Peter. I spent several days at her home, Karanambu, a cattle-ranch-turned eco-lodge that also serves as a part-time wildlife rehabilitation center. Soon we were talking otter nonstop. I’d worked with hundreds of wild river otters during my residency training in North Carolina, and Diane had, over the years, raised and released several dozen orphaned wild giant otters. This is an old photo of us from that year, weighing Peter.

Diane holding Peter, a giant otter, as I try to read the scale

During that first visit to Karanambu, I fell in love with the Rupununi region of Guyana. I’ve returned at least once a year, except during the period I spent in Africa. Diane and the giant otters are part of the reason I keep coming back. But so is the place itself.

My last trip to Guyana was in October 2006, just before I started as the regional veterinary field manager for MGVP, Inc. (see Gorilla Doctors on Wildlife Direct). I guess it’s no surprise that within two weeks of returning home to the U.S., I was back on a plane in July — this time to South America.

Rupununi River as seen from a plane, near Karanambu, Guyana

I arrived just in time for the rainy season. The rains flood the savannah and fill the Rupununi River, widening it to the point where it overflows in some places. The result is a maze of ponds and marshy areas. With so much water, the fish can go anywhere, and so can the otters. Instead of driving across the savannah, we switch to boats.

Diane with Tsunami (left) and Sappho

Getting back to Guyana was important to me for a special reason: my experiences in central Africa convinced me that “one-health medicine” can work for dozens of species, not just gorillas. As I see it, the way to protect the giant otter is to ensure that we’re meeting the needs of all who live in the same ecosystem. The health of the otters is linked to that of people, their domestic animals, the environment and other wildlife.

The North Rupununi Savannah and Wetlands

Most of the orphans Diane has rehabilitated are discarded pets, animals that got too big, too hungry and too dangerous, for their owners. The otters, of course, had their own ideas. Diane never planned to become a wildlife rehabilitator, but she has a special touch with animals. Over the years, she has made it her life’s mission to give every orphan a chance to return to the river. In the process, she shares them with any and all who visit Karanambu. It’s for this reason that Diane is sometimes known as “the otterly delightful lady of the Rupununi.”

Alvin, a member of the Karanambu staff, who catches fish specifically for the orphans

Across much of South America, giant otters (Pteronura brasiliensis) are perceived by the local people as competitors for fish. This is true to a certain extent, but many of the fish species eaten by otters are not the ones preferred by humans. Among the 13 species of otter found worldwide, the giants are among the most endangered. They are 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. They can consume up to 20 percent of their body weight in fish a day (several kilos). They are also highly territorial and live in large family packs, like wolves. In fact, in Brazil, the giants are known as river wolves (Lobo in Portuguese), and in Guyana as water dogs.

Rupununi River, near Karanambu Landing, Guyana

Being fearless, adult giant otters are easily killed by fishermen — who may then capture their cubs to keep as pets. But it’s usually only a matter of time before the growing otters kill a chicken or bite a child. At that point, if they’re not killed in retaliation, they are brought to Diane, who teaches them how to fish and swim in their native habitat, the Rupununi River. Eventually, they leave the ranch, following wild otters. Though some don’t survive attacks by caiman alligators, territorial otters or angry fisherman, many do.

As the plane readied to land at Karanambu on my recent trip, I figured this wouldn’t be an otter-filled visit. After all, it was the rainy season, and I knew Diane didn’t have any orphans on hand at the moment. But that didn’t matter–I was eager to reconnect with everyone at the ranch and to hear about Diane’s plans to turn it into a protected area. At the same time, I knew something unusual would happen. It always did.

Buddy, a young orphaned male giant otter

Sure enough, during the short drive from the airstrip to the main house, Diane explained that we might need to go rescue an otter. A tame male otter had been hanging around the Iwokrama Forest Lodge, (a six-hour drive from the ranch) and had become something of a problem. “What wonderful timing for your visit,” she exclaimed. “Evidently he needs to see a vet!”.

[To be continued ...]