The impossible conundrum

It’s 100+ degrees in the Fort Jackson wildlife rehabilitation center, sweat is pouring down my face and back as I peer under the mesh cover of the pelican pen. Thirteen birds, all cloaked in burnt-orange oil, huddle in one corner of the pen. They are shivering.

The Fort Jackson facility consists of a warehouse and several mobile buildings, all geared toward housing, cleaning, and hopefully saving the lives of the myriad wildlife species that are covered with oil spilled from BP’s Deepwater Horizon rig in the Gulf.  Today, all of the facility’s patients are brown pelicans, a species just recently removed from the endangered species list.

Upon walking in the warehouse door a wave of pungent, nearly overpowering odor washes over us. The warehouse is enormous, with most of the floor space taken up by deep wooden crates, cubes of about 5 feet in all dimensions. Inside the crates are groups of pelicans, black and orange with oil, waiting to be cleaned. Some are shivering, though it is uncertain whether this is an effect of the oil or the stress of the situation. One of the main dangers for birds covered with oil, (which we know from a sadly long history of despoiling bird habitat) is that it damages their ability to regulate temperature. The quivering pelicans remind me of my dog, Maggie, who in certain situations will start to shiver in the same way. Sometimes she does it when she is cold, but more often when she is scared—and always at her doctor’s office. The first time I saw her do this was the day we met, as she cowered in the corner of the Humane Society kennel I adopted her from.

I imagine the pelicans here feel much the same way. Most have, over the past few days, encountered patches of oil unleashed from BP’s rig and become so coated in the substance that their ability to fly away from animal rescue boats was hampered. Scooped up into crates and carted through the muggy Louisiana coast, they were then deposited in these wooden pens, under a cloud of bird fear and confusion. Their eyes dart about as my group peers into their pens, snapping photos and capturing video.

They are all awaiting the long process of decontamination. Those already at the cleaning phase are being held in the grasp of staff trained to do minimal harm while trying to cleanse the birds of the muck that clings to their feathers. Clearly the process stresses the birds, but gradually a vigorous scrubbing with dishwashing detergent returns their feathers to white and brown. The cleaners have a tough job, restraining the anxious birds while trying to scrub them clean, their rubber gloves and aprons becoming slimed with the oil they are washing from the birds. Many of these folks have been working nearly round the clock to push birds through the system. There are hundreds of birds waiting to be cleaned, and with only three birds being cleaned at a time, staff and birds will have many long days ahead of them. The staff is already working 14-16 hour days or more, but so far they remain energetic and efficient, and the undoubted strain of the situation has not yet begun to wear on them.

But this cleanup operation, already taxed, will only grow more so. More than 1000 birds have been collected in the past six weeks, and the numbers have been growing by the day. Only a fraction of the oiled birds are entering this rescue system. Most will not be collected due to fears of disturbing nesting colonies and the shear vastness of the area impacted by the oil. Many will die unnoticed, uncounted. Some will arrive here too late to save. Others will be released into the wild in areas distant from the gushing oil, in hopes that the oil will be contained before it makes it to the further reaches of the Gulf or even the eastern seaboard. Some of those released will die. Lack of funding for modern technology to monitor the birds after release will mean we will never have an accurate assessment of whether these decontaminated birds survive after release.  And studies from previous oil spills have yielded inconsistent data.

The sad fact is that years after Exxon Valdez, the effectiveness of these treatments on wildlife has not been given the attention that it deserves.  Billions of dollars in research has been aimed at engineering the best technology to drill for oil, but relatively little for studying the impacts of that drilling on the environment.

Some limited research has however given us clues to the fate of birds caught up in oil contamination. One study by an Oregon ornithologist Brian Sharp, who tracked the survival rates of birds impacted by the Exxon Valdez spill, suggests the birds may not survive long. Most of the birds he tracked after their oil rehab died within days or weeks, according to an interview he did with National Public Radio. Other scientific studies have had similar results, leading some experts to say the birds should not be captured, but rather, either left alone or euthanized. But not all studies point to failure in wildlife recovery. Some in fact, suggest birds can recover, depending on the location and circumstances of the spill, leading some wildlife biologists to argue that we should not give up trying. The International Bird Rescue Research Center cites several studies indicating that birds can be successfully rehabilitated and returned to the wild, where many survive for years and breed. And given the fact that some of the wild species impacted by this spill are already endangered, it is perhaps imperative to try to save every single individual that we can.

Add this conundrum to the long list of torturous questions that arise from the ecological predicament we have put ourselves in. Do we put wild animals through the stress of capture, cleaning and captivity, only to have a 50-50 or less chance of survival? It seems a similar question to one I face currently with my dog, and so many pet owners have to face at one point or another. Maggie is 14, she has a recurring ear infection that won’t go away, and now she has a tumor on her leg. I have to get it checked, and perhaps surgically removed to know what happens next, but the question has already posed itself to me: what if the vet suggests chemotherapy or radiation? If I chose such a radical treatment for her, would I be doing it for her or me?

It is nearly impossible to sit by and see hundreds or thousands of birds smothered in oil, knowing we are responsible for their deathly plight, and do nothing. But if their chance of survival is slim, are we putting them through added anxiety for them, or for us? And might we not be better off making amends by making real change, passing a strong climate bill and taking real steps to end not only our dependence on oil and gas—because solar and wind can have environmental consequences too—but to move toward ending our dependence on boundless comfort and consumption. It would not save these particular birds, it could make this the last generation of wild victims of our excess.