Spotting a new Muntjak
How a Lankan zoologist helped discover a new species
of deer
in the jungles of Vietnam
By Eric Wikramanayake
 We
were sitting on the bamboo-slat floor of Mr. Boon's house. A small glass
that seemed to magically fill with strong, home-made rice wine was being
passed around, quite frequently it seemed. Boon and his wife were busy
cutting up a dried carcass of a small rat-sized squirrel to cook for us.
We were honoured guests. I wished I wasn't - the squirrel was black
after having hung above the fireplace for what may have been several years,
judging by the mummified appearance. I feared it wouldn't taste good. But
my attention was divided between the squirrel and the collection of skulls,
feathers, and other assorted parts of mammals, birds, and reptiles that
hung on the far wall and that likely once suffered the same fate as the
squirrel.
Boon was one of the "hunters" in town, and do Touc, the Vietnamese
zoologist in our survey team, was taking a closer look at his collection,
using a flashlight to illuminate the gloom.
Many of the skulls were readily identifiable: small cats, primates,
deer, wild pigs, and even a bear. The muntjak skull in the collection had
small antlers - a juvenile, I thought.
Touc reached up, stretching to his full five foot nothing, took down
the skull, and looked at it, turning it over in his hands. Nonchalantly
grabbing several other skulls he came back and sat next to me, handed me
the muntjak skull, and pointed out the small antlers - about a centimetre
in length sitting atop thin, long pedicels, then turned the skull over
and said, "Look at the teeth, it's an adult."
Sure enough, the teeth were well worn, characteristic of an adult herbivore,
and the pedicels and antlers were much smaller than that expected of an
adult common muntjak. Touc leaned over and said quietly, "Eric, I
think this is a new species."
Boon was now dishing out the squirrel, but Touc and I had a barrage
of questions for him. Where did he get this skull? Could we have this skull?
Where was this animal hunted? How big was it? What colour? When was it
killed? Who killed it? What kind of forest? And more important, could he
take us there?
All the while we tried to maintain an air of calm. I also had to pretend
that the squirrel tasted good lest I offend his hospitality, even though
the other Vietnamese scientists in the team - there was Touc, Dzung the
botanist, Dzung the socio-economist, and Sinh the Head of the District
Forest Protection Department - seemed to be enjoying it. I managed to discreetly
dispatch most of my share between the bamboo slats of the floor.
The answers came slowly, or so it seemed. He had hunted the animal while
visiting A Tin village, about a two-hour walk up and past the mountain
range to the northeast, near the border with the next province. The animal
was about this high, holding his hands about two and a half feet off the
ground - and weighed about 12kg. roughly 26 pounds. It was black in colour,
different from the red-coloured coat of the common muntjak, and lived in
dense forest. He agreed to sell us the skull, although he reminded us that
hunters do not like to part with their trophies. And, yes, he would take
us there. We would have to get an early start tomorrow morning.
Mr. Sinh, realizing that we were excited at the sight of a decrepit
skull, said that there was another hunter in town who also had some skulls.
Would we be interested in seeing them? Taking leave of Mr. Boon, and promising
to see him early next morning, we walked to the other house, about half
a mile away. The hunter was not at home, but his wife showed us his collection
of skulls. Sure enough, there was another small muntjak skull. This one
lacked antlers and the molars were worn down, indicating that it was an
adult female.
But it had long canines about as long as in the male. The canine teeth
are a sexually dimorphic characteristic in all known muntjaks.
Males have long canines on the upper jaw that stick out of the sides
of their mouths; females have short, rather inconspicuous canines. This
was unusual. And exciting. But this time we couldn't buy the skull. The
hunter's wife refused to sell it. We would have to ask her husband, and
he wouldn't be back for several days.
Now we were certain that we either had a new species or that this was
a species known as Muntiacus Rooseveltorum, which had been described in
1929 from one immature male specimen collected during the Roosevelt expedition
to Indochina.
The species had been named after Teddy Roosevelt, the sponsor and leader
of the expedition. Except for that one record, nothing else was known about
the animal. So even if this was Rooseveltorum it would still be an important
piece of information. Now we had to get some more specimens.
Nevertheless we felt that there was a good chance we were onto a new
species because these forests on the northern Truong Son range of the Annamite
mountains have been little explored. We knew that the montane forests straddling
the border between Vietnam and Laos farther to the north had yielded many
such surprises recently. No less than five new species of large mammals
had been discovered by scientists just within the last five years.
But why has this area yielded so many new species? We can only theorize.
About 12 years ago, John MacKinnon started working with the Vietnamese
government to develop a conservation programme and protected areas system.
While perusing satellite images, he realized that most of Indochina's
remaining natural habitat lies along the international borders of countries
in the region -Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia. These borders also run along
mountain ranges, and the ruggedness of these mountains has prevented the
forest from being exploited for agriculture and timber, as much of the
rest of Asia has been. And this same inaccessibility has prevented complete
exploration of the forest for scientific purposes.
MacKinnon decided that these forests are logical candidates for inclusion
in a protected areas system. But first they had to be surveyed and the
fauna and flora inventoried to make sure that there was habitat and species
worth protecting.
MacKinnon picked the Vu Quang area, about 90 miles north of our survey
area, to begin with and found two new large mammals that eventually became
new genera - the Sao La and the giant muntjak in quick succession. He also
found several plant species and fishes. Obviously MacKinnon had chosen
well. The Annamites were an "Evolutionary hotspot," rich in species
diversity.
With hopes of being as lucky as MacKinnon was, Touc, Dzung and Dzung,
Sinh, and I were ready to accompany Mr. Boon to A Tin village at six o'clock
the next morning.
The trail immediately began to climb steeply as we went up and over
the hills north of town. The trail was well-worn and slippery, making climbing
difficult as it traversed through grassland and harvested corn fields.
There were no trees to provide cover and although
it was early, it was beginning to get quite hot. But by the time we got
to the higher areas there was more forest and the going was easier, especially
as we were climbing down the other side. This landscape is typical of Vietnam,
where most of the lowland and low mountain forest have been cleared for
agriculture. The remaining forests are mostly montane, where they are generally
inaccessible to people and are unsuitable for agriculture. However, there
are a few patches of forests left in the lower areas, especially along
the border with Laos.
These are usually surrounded by mountains and it was to a patch like
this that we were headed.
By noon the trail began to head downhill again - very steeply. All around
us the forest had been cleared. Burnt stumps of trees stood in mute testimony
to a once thriving forest, now littered with the stubble of dried corn
stalks. These fields indicated that we were close to a village.
I walked to the edge of a cliff down which the trail disappeared and
looked over. Far below was a cluster of four huts next to a river. There
were some signs of life - we could make out a few children at play, but
the pigs and dogs were lying around in the mid-day heat. This was A Tin
village, our destination. We still had to get down the trail to the village,
which took another half hour or so. And all the while I was thinking about
our return journey. We would have to climb back up.
The people in A Tin village belong to an ethnic minority group called
Ca Tu. The village headman was also one of two hunters in the village,
and our first visit was to his house. As typical of houses in the region,
it was made entirely of bamboo and set on stilts. Little light entered
through the small windows and the gaps in the woven bamboo walls.
Sitting on the bamboo floor we began our discussion, which was translated
from the indigenous Ca Tuc language to Vietnamese by Sinh and Boon, and
in turn into English for my benefit by Dzung, Dzung, and Touc. But first,
the obligatory rice wine.
Looking around we noticed several muntjak skulls among a collection
that included skulls of serow or wild goat, small cats — likely leopard
cats, jungle cats, golden cats, and a host of other small felids that are
known or thought to be found in these forests — primates such as langurs,
gibbons, and macaques, wild pigs, various rodents, civets and the magnificent,
long tail feathers of Argus pheasant.
At first the headman was reluctant to talk to us about his activities.
Although many people hunt, both for subsistence and for a significant wildlife
trade, hunting is illegal in Vietnam.
The headman was afraid that our team was there to arrest him. But with
some convincing and after a few glasses of wine he decided that we were
more interested in learning about the muntjak and other wildlife than in
taking him to jail. He told us that there were three different species
of muntjak in the area; one was bigger than the others and was uncommon.
Of the two smaller muntjaks, one was black and the other red. We knew
the larger muntjak would be the giant muntjak, or Megamuntiacus Vuquangensis
and the red animal was probably the common muntjak, muntiacus muntijak.
The black-coloured animal was what we were interested in. The headman
told us it was called sam soi cacoong in Ca Tu language, which means 'the
deer that lives in the deep, thick forest.'
Muntjaks, also known as barking deer because of
their doglike bark belong to the Family Artiodactyla, along with the other
deer species. Although the taxonomy of the muntjak is still rather confused,
there are at least seven species in three genera that have been scientifically
described.
Of these, the common muntjak, also known as the Indian muntjak or the
red muntjak, is widely distributed throughout Asia, from the island of
Sri Lanka off the southern tip of the Indian subcontinent to Nepal, Bhutan,
and China to the north, and as far east as the Indonesian island of Lombok.
The other species have much more limited distributions.
Characteristic features of the muntjaks are their small antlers raised
on long pedicels, and their upper canines. Although both sexes have upper
canines, they are much longer in males. Because of the characteristic features
associated with the skull morphology, we wanted to collect a good sample
of skulls. This would allow us to measure certain parts and features of
the skulls — such as the antler lengths and circumference, the length and
circumference of the pedicels, the width of the braincase, the width and
length of the nasal bone, the size of the eye opening (orbit), the distances
between sets of teeth — and compare them with similar skull measurements
of other species of muntjaks to see if there was a significant difference
in size and form.
With luck, we would also be able to scrape off bits and pieces of flesh
and dried blood from the skulls for DNA testing. A comparison of the DNA
of this muntjak with the DNA of other known species would tell us if "our"
species was different enough to warrant a new species status.
Two days and several sessions of rice wine later we would be able to
collect 15 skulls of adults and one of a juvenile. With Boon's skull that
would give us a total of 17 skulls, comprising eight males, eight females,
and one juvenile.
But we also needed more information from the headman. How common are
the animals? What kind of habitat do they live in? How are they hunted?
Could he take us to a place where he hunts them? After a bit of persuasion
he agreed to take us to the hunting area the next day. Satisfied with our
day, we strung our hammocks in the unoccupied half of the house next door
and spent an impatient night.
We were ready early next morning. After another breakfast of dried,
shredded pork and rice we left, first walking along the stream and then
climbing away from it to follow the ridge line up the mountain. The vegetation
was denser now, and the understory of ferns, palms, rattan, shrubs, and
herbs was still damp with dew. The leeches soon found us. The upper story
vegetation was old growth, but it was not primary forest. I estimated that
it would have been cleared for crops 30 to 50 years ago.
We soon came across some drift fences made of split bamboo with long-fall
traps set at various strategic points. The muntjak and other small animals
such as mongooses, civets, smaller cats, and even pheasants encounter the
drift fences and walk along them. When they come to an opening in the fence
and try to walk through it, they trigger the "trip-wire" to bring
the log crashing down on them.
Some animals are also shot. War-era auto matic
weapons are still readily available and our hunter friend now carried one.
He told us that the hunting season lasts from about September to March,
when the animals are said to migrate down from the mountains to the lower
elevations. During the past two years, the two hunters in A Tin village
had shot four muntjak and trapped four more between them. Hunting provides
a significant source of protein in these communities, and the hunters share
the animals with the rest of the village.
That night it rained. Hard. The rain continued through the next day
and the river began to rise rapidly. I was content to lie in my hammock
and work out a strategy for what we should do next while Touc and the others
bargained for the skulls. Since the hunting season was over and we had
little time in A Tin village, we stood little chance of seeing an entire
animal, and would have to rely on the villagers' descriptions. Obviously
the DNA testing would be critical. But would we have enough samples? Some
of the skulls were several years old. Would they still yield good results?
Only the test results would tell, but the uncertainty of the what ifs'
brought a edge of pessimism.
It would be a long week before we returned to Hanoi, and I started working
on the skulls immediately. I scraped tissue and blood off each skull and
packed them in individual envelopes, which were then carefully sealed and
marked with a number that corresponded to a number that I assigned each
skull.
These samples were sent courtesy of the Danish Embassy, to Peter Arctander,
a geneticist at the University of Copenhagen's Department of Population
Biology who had performed DNA work on two other muntjak discoveries, for
analysis. In the meantime I measured the skulls and compared the measurements
to those available for other muntjak species known from the region.
They were different, as our first impressions suggested "our"
muntjak had much smaller antlers atop relatively thinner and shorter pedicels.
The skulls were also much smaller in size and of course the long canines
of the females were distinctive. But the spectre of rooseveltorum still
haunted us, and we would have to wait for the DNA analysis to exorcise
the possibility that we had re-discovered an "old" species rather
than discovered a new one.
To banish the impatience and the uncertainty we – the Vietnamese biologists
on the team, John MacKinnon the "Vietnam hand" we had recruited
for advice, and I began to think of a name for the new species, in the
event that it was. One of the Vietnamese scientists suggested Canicervus
annamicus, because of the large canines in both males and females, but
John and I had to gently convince him that the new animal most likely would
not be a new genus. So we would have to go with Muntiacus.
The final choice of the species name then was between Hienii, after
the district in which it was found, or troungsonensis after the Troung
Son range of mountains in the northern Annamites. This would keep the etymology
consistent with two other species of mammals that were found not five years
ago, also in the Annamites of Vietnam, a little farther north of Quang
Nam.
Of these, the Sao La, also known as the Vu Quang Ox, was named Pseudoryx
nghetinhensis, after the two provinces - Nghe An and Ha Tinh - close to
where the animal was discovered.
The other, which was the giant muntjak, was named vuquangensis after
Vu Quang where the animal was first found. We settled on Muntiacus troungsonensis
because there was no indication of the animals in the southern part of
Hien district, suggesting that the southern extent of the range of the
animal barely extends into Hien District: thus, most of the range would
be outside the district.
But we would still have to wait for Peter to finish his analysis in
Denmark. Within two weeks of arriving in Hanoi, I left Vietnam for Washington,
D. C. and immersed myself in other work, trying to forget about muntjaks
and new species. John, who had worked with Peter before and knew him well,
was given the task of pushing Peter to hurry up.
We knew that other scientists were conducting surveys across the border
in Laos and would surely find similar skulls there; thus, was a sense of
urgency. But we also knew that it would take time, because Peter would
have to get DNA samples from other known species for comparison.
Finally, three long months later, we had results. A long e-mail from
Peter that contained a long DNA sequence and an explanatory sentence at
the end said that "our" muntjak was indeed genetically different
to the other known muntjaks in Indochina and China. We could add one more
new species of muntjak to the taxonomy.
Eric Wikramanayake is a senior conservation scientist at World Wildlife
Fund - US, and has worked in Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Bhutan, Vietnam, Laos
and Cambodia.
(Courtesy Zoogoer Magazine)
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