Category: mammals

Readers’ wildlife photos

August 25, 2026 • 8:15 am

Evolutionary ornithologist Bruce Lyon has sent us a batch of lovely photos from his field work in Alaska, including baby Arctic foxes! (He works on birds, though.) Bruce’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge his photos by clicking on them.

Here is a post on the arctic foxes (Vulpes lagopus) of Saint Paul Island, Alaska, where I spent the summer studying songbirds. Two years ago I shared some photos of foxes and text (here).

Arctic foxes are native to St Paul Island and virtually all individuals are blue-morph rather than white-morph foxes. Occasionally, white morph individuals do get to St Paul by crossing the winter sea ice. The morphs are apparently produced by a single Mendelian gene (the MC1R gene).

This year we had two dens that were very close to each other (150 meters apart). We could observe both dens from the windows of our lodging. Often the foxes are nestled away out of sight down in their dens. However, because we could watch the dens from our apartments we noticed whenever the pups were out and being active (mostly playing). If the activity seemed particularly fun I would hop in our truck and drive the 30 seconds it took to be right next to the dens (plus the vehicle serves as blind for close observations). One den had nine pups, the other five, and the pups sometimes joined together in a giant heap of fuzz all playing together , with some of the more excited ones jumping up and down like fleas. I am not sure how typical it is for pups from adjacent dens to have playdates!

The view of the salt lagoon and downtown St Paul and harbor in the back. At low tide the area to the left is one huge beach and the foxes frolic here. The dens are out of view to the left of the photo:

Portrait of an adult fox. The eyes are an interesting amber color:

The harbor sometimes has a large numbers of foxes; they scavenge the discarded parts of fish after the fish are cleaned. On one harbor visit we saw 20 foxes hanging around the harbor rocks, all fairly close together. A plethora of foxes!

A typical dark colored fox on the rocks:

A rare white morph individual:

The individual below looked like a sheep badly in need of shearing and we thought it was amusing—sadly, it turned out to be a sign that the animal is not doing well. All of the foxes molt their winter coats but arctic fox expert Paula White told me that the animal in this photo probably has a disease called Shaggy Lame Fox Syndrome. Paula thought this because the animal has a swollen ankle and animals in poor condition often molt later than healthy animals. This disease is apparently found only in Pribilof populations of foxes. Symptoms include “failure to shed winter pelage and moderate to severe polyarthritis”. Paula pointed out to me that this animal has a swollen front ankle:

The pups are adorable and I will share a few photos of them. I think ‘cute and fuzzy’ pretty much captures their essence:

Whenever I made a mouse-like squeaking noise the pups would cock their heads:

A sibling makes a good pillow:

One day from my window I saw an adult fox trotting across the sand flat near its den carrying what I thought was a gull but turned out to be a northern fulmar (Fulmarus glacialis; seabird related to albatross). The adult dropped the prey on the sand some distance from the den and the pups from the closest den (with nine pups) raced out and piled onto the carcass.  I quickly drove out to get closer and noted the adult was concerned about something. It then gave an alarm bark and everybody scattered. Less than a minute later the pups returned. Then an adult showed up, wrestled the carcass from the pups and took it to the other den. It seems that an adult from the second den came in and stole the prey. I am not sure why the fox who brought the fulmar in did not try to chase the thief off. The two dens do not seem hostile to each other generally because sometimes the pups from the two dens mingle and play together. Perhaps the adults are related?
 
The adult trotting with the fulmar:

What a northern fulmar (Fulmarus glacialis) looks like when it is not dead in the mouth of a fox. They are quite pungent smelling—to me it is almost a mothball smell. I can imagine that they have a funky flavor but these foxes seem to eat almost anything.

I do not know how the fox got the fulmar. Perhaps scavenging a dead one? However, these foxes are very good at climbing cliffs and it is possible that the fox ambushed a fulmar near its nest on the cliffs. In the photo below, a fox takes a nap half way up a cliff:

Back to the drama. After dropping the fulmar on beach the parent seemed to be wary of something, and gave an alarm bark:

A bit later, the adult thief comes in to take the carcass while a pup bravely tries to scare it off”:

A tug-of-war followed:

Of course the adult won, and ran with the carcass the 150 meters to its own den:

The thief with its booty close to its den:

Readers’ wildlife photos

August 14, 2026 • 8:15 am

In light of the absence of reader contribution, but delighted to show such lovely photos, I present some of Dr. Scott Ritchie‘s photos from last October (his FB page is here). Note that the photos include NUMBATS (Myrmecobius fasciatus), which are endangered. Scott hails from Cairns in Australia.

Scott’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge his photos by clicking on them.

Some really cute mammals from Dryandra, SE of Perth. The forest area is home to the critically endangered Numbat. I was really pleased to see this cute little fella, and get some decent pics. And here are a few birds from the area too.

Looking for his brother. He caught a bit of golden light before sunset.

Oh, there he is!

Hop to it!

Standing tall:

A Tassie tiger look, love it!:

A Varied Sittella (Daphoenositta chrysoptera) hops along a gum branch:

The Rufous Treecreeper (Climacteris rufus). This guy always seemed to be puffed up:

Here he goes again:

A Painted Buttonquail (Turnix varius), I think:

The Australian Ringneck (Barnardius zonarius; western subspecies):

Yellow-plumed Honeyeater (Ptilotula ornata) with flower frill:
Carnaby’s Black Cockatoo (Zanda latirostris):

August 1 ducks

August 2, 2026 • 8:15 am

“How is the Duck Family doing?”, you ask.  They’re peachy—couldn’t be better. Today is the two-week anniversary of when they came to Botany Pond, and Miss Duck and her Brood of Four are healthy, happy (as far as I can tell), vigorous, and certainly well fed.  You’ll see below how the babies have grown: they now have pointy tails, are at least twice as large as when they came to the Pond, and soon will enter their awkward teenage phase as their feathers start to come in.

All the ducks know me and come to me when they see me at the pond; I don’t even have to whistle for them. I am their Human Food-Vending Machine.

For two of the last three mornings, they were waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs leading from my building to the Pond, and when they saw me they came waddling and strutting up. As you can see below, the babies were peeping and Miss Duck was making soft quacks because she wasn’t quite sure of my intentions. I herded them to the water in the channel, as I always feed them in the water—it makes less mess if there is uneaten food. (The fish and turtles get it quickly in the water.)

Miss Duck, unlike other hens I’ve tended, is frightened of the large turtles, quacks when they approach (the babies don’t care), and swims away from them. She feints at them with her bill, and sometimes at the fish as well. But I manage to get enough food in them all to keep them fat and growing. (They get fed three or four times per day).

So here’s what greeted me yesterday morning when I came to the Pond about 6:30 a.m. You can hear me speaking to them, as a duck expert told me that they will also recognize my voice. Although my vocal timbre changes, I don’t speak to them like one who speaks to a child, for I think animals should be addressed as adults.

Sound up on all videos.

After breakfast in the channel, the family invariably swims back to the main Pond, deciding to settle on one of the three or four rocky spaces where they can dry off, rest, and digest. Here they first try the “Sacred Rock” in the NW part of the pond, and then settle on the big flat rock between the benches.

Look how they’ve grown!

Yesterday morning there were fairly heavy rains, but the ducks were all dry when they came for food after the rain stopped. I have no idea where they go to stay dry, as when it rains heavily you simply can’t look over the Pond in person without getting drenched. Here they are after the rain in a screenshot from thePondCam. Can you find Miss Duck and her ducklings?

Finally, a first yesterday: a rabbit appeared at the Pond. Though Hyde Park is full of Eastern Cottontails (Sylvilagus floridanus), I have never seen one at Botany Pond. If it hangs around I may try to feed it, though I’m wary of that Cooper’s Hawk who sometimes comes by.  The arrow points to the bunny.

I’ll do my best to provide updates, but I just changed Big Computers and that always causes problems and stress, in this case with uploading pictures and videos. Stay tuned: you will not miss the ducklings growing up!

Readers’ wildlife photos

July 26, 2026 • 8:45 am

We are in dire need of wildlife photos, so if you have some good ones, please send them in.

Today we have the sixth and last installment of Ephraim Heller’s photos from his recent trip to Namibia. His captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

This is the last installment in my series on a May-June 2026 visit to Namibia. Today’s photos were taken inland, at the Ongava/Etosha region (where I photographed rhinos for last week’s installment) and at Nkasa Rupara National Park in the Caprivi Strip.

Most of the animals in this post are well known to readers, but the history of the Caprivi Strip is worth a digression on 19th century colonial competition in Africa. Here is a map (courtesy of WorldAtlas) of present-day Namibia. The Caprivi Strip is the odd extension in the northeast corner of the country that juts out to contact Angola, Botswana, Zambia, and Zimbabwe. It is 30 km wide and 450 km long:

Germany had established the colony of German South West Africa (modern Namibia) in 1884. Germany also had the colony of German East Africa (Tanganyika, the mainland portion of modern-day Tanzania). German Chancellor Leo von Caprivi wanted to establish a trade corridor between the two German colonies on the west and east coasts of Africa, but there was one problem: the British held colonies in between. He came up with the idea that if he could extend German South West Africa’s eastern border to the Zambezi River, there would be a navigable waterway linking the two German colonies.

This ambition led to negotiations with Britain and to the signing of the Heligoland–Zanzibar Treaty in 1890. Britain transferred the Caprivi strip and ceded the North Sea island of Heligoland to Germany. In return, Germany recognized British authority over the Zanzibar islands (now also part of Tanzania) off of Tanganyika.

All of Chancellor Caprivi’s scheming came to naught, however, because the Germans were not aware of a small obstacle to navigation in the Zambezi River known today as Victoria Falls, one of the largest waterfalls in the world (photo courtesy of Wikipedia Commons):

The cunning British, on the other hand, were well aware of the existence of Victoria Falls (David Livingstone having named them in 1855). Perfidious Albion, indeed.  As usual during the Scramble for Africa, the indigenous people were not a consideration in this deal.

Now, on to the animals. I’ll skip descriptions as most species will be familiar to readers:

Wahlberg’s striped skink (Trachylepis wahlbergii) peeking out of the skull of an African buffalo (Syncerus caffer):

Lion (Panthera leo) at sunset:

Black-backed jackals (Lupulella mesomelas) playing at dawn:

Angolan giraffe (Giraffa giraffa angolensis) coming to drink at the Linyanti River:

Shikra (Tachyspiza badia):

Nile monitor (Varanus niloticus):

Rock hyraxes (Procavia capensis):

More from the sunset photo series. A Burchell’s zebra (Equus quagga burchellii):

Red Lechwe (Kobus leche):

Vultures (species unknown):

Readers’ wildlife video

July 24, 2026 • 8:15 am

We have another short video from Tara Tanaka in Florida, whose property is a wetlands and also a wildlife sanctuary. Tara’s notes are indented below:

There is a large church property directly across the truck route from our wildlife sanctuary, and a developer is about to meet with the county to discuss building a 108-single family subdivision on part of the property. According to the neighbor who is working to inform those affected by the proposed development: “Any development of that size would have devastating impacts on the character of our surrounding neighborhoods. The traffic impacts would further clog our roads, making traffic even worse than it already is. The light pollution coming from a site with 108 new homes would disrupt our tranquil way of life. Water runoff from the site will only worsen the flooding we see after rain events, especially to our neighbors in Riverwood Acres. And no one really knows of the impacts a new development would have on the wildlife we currently enjoy year-round.”

Some in the neighborhood are meeting with a reporter from a local TV station to make people aware of what is happening, and I was asked to provide video footage of some of the wildlife that nest, spend time in, and pass through the sanctuary, and I wanted to share it here as well.

How many species can you identify?

Readers’ wildlife photos

July 18, 2026 • 8:15 am

Today we have photos from Ephraim Heller continuing his series on a recent trip to Namibia. Ephraim’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge his photos by clicking on them.

I continue my series on a May-June 2026 visit to Namibia. I’m organizing the posts by habitat, in the order of our visits, so that you get a sense of the ecosystems. Today’s post features the south-western black rhinoceros (Diceros bicornis bicornis) and southern white rhinos (Ceratotherium simum simum) of Etosha National Park and the adjacent, private Ongava Game Reserve. This is one of the most important rhino populations in Africa. In other African national parks I was happy to see one or two rhinos. On this trip I was surprised and pleased to view dozens of individuals.

[Note to readers: I have a lot of difficulty distinguishing the two species. I would appreciate corrections from experts if I have made an identification mistake.]

White rhino in morning light:

My previous posts documented Namibia’s desert coastline. Etosha National Park lies inland. The region is semi-arid with mean annual precipitation of 300-430 mm (12-17 in) and hot summers with typical temperatures around 40 °C (104°F).

Proclaimed as a reserve in 1907 by the German colonial administration and later reduced by the South Africa administration to just a quarter of its original size due to political and agricultural pressure, the park today encompasses over 22,000 km² (8,500 mi²). It is Namibia’s flagship conservation area. The park is dominated by the Etosha Pan, a ~5,000 km² (1,930 mi²) saline depression that is the remnant of an ancient inland lake.

White rhino at night. You can see the impressive scarring along its torso:

On the southern boundary of Etosha National Park lies Ongava Game Reserve, a private conservation area whose name means “rhino” in the Herero language. Starting in 1991 with the purchase of ~30,000 hectares of former cattle farmland, the Reserve’s ecology has slowly recovered. While the Park is closed to visitors at night, the Reserve caters to photographers with lodges and photo blinds overlooking illuminated waterholes.

White rhino baby nursing at the waterhole at night:

I wondered whether the two rhino species compete with each other. I learned that despite being closely related, they occupy distinct ecological niches. The mopane and mixed woodlands provide critical browse for black rhinos, and the grasslands support white rhinos.

This young male white rhino came too close to a baby. The baby’s mother inflicted this wound as a helpful reminder to respect her baby:

The southern white rhino is the larger of the two species, with adult bulls commonly exceeding 2,000 kg and occasionally approaching 3,500 kg. Despite the name, both African rhinos are grey and no one knows why are they called “white” and “black.” White rhinos are obligate grazers that crop grasses. Their large head is held low and supported by a pronounced hump at the neck.

White rhino with an impressive horn. Note the hump at the neck:

Socially they are more gregarious than black rhinos, often forming small groups of cows and calves, with territorial bulls maintaining more solitary ranges. Southern white rhinos recovered from a severe population bottleneck in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and are currently listed as Near Threatened. They disappeared from Etosha and were reintroduced in the 1990s from South Africa.

White rhino in the grass:

White rhino in dawn light. I love the ear tufts:

Black rhinos are smaller and more compact, typically weighing 800–1,400 kg. Allegedly, their most distinctive feature is the prehensile, hooked upper lip used for browsing leaves, twigs, and shoots from bushes and trees (I can’t distinguish the difference in their mouths). The head is held higher than in white rhinos, and the back shows a saddle-like dip. They are generally more solitary and can be more aggressive.

Rhinos on the way to the waterhole at dusk. I’m told that these are black rhinos, but those sure are big humps:

In the mid-20th century, remaining black rhinos from elsewhere in Namibia were relocated into Etosha. With improved protection and habitat, the population recovered strongly to over 500 black rhinos. Namibia has the south-western subspecies. Etosha is a global stronghold for this population. The species as a whole remains Critically Endangered following catastrophic declines in the 20th century.

Black rhino baby at the waterhole at night:

Poaching remains the primary threat to African rhinos. The news here is mixed. Etosha National Park has not fared well due to its large size and public management, with dozens of rhinos poached annually in recent years. On the other hand, and to their great credit, Ongava has had zero poaching incidents in recent history due to its private ownership, smaller size, and intensive security (dedicated, armed, anti-poaching teams conducting foot patrols; trained canine units; aerial support; and continuous high-tech monitoring). Tourism revenue helps fund security. Dehorning is used selectively in some high-risk areas as an additional deterrent.

This black rhino appears to be a veteran of many battles:

Readers’ wildlife photos

July 12, 2026 • 8:15 am

We’re running out of wildlife contributions—I suppose we always are, but this is the last batch on hand. You know what to do if you have good photos.

Today we continue with Ephraim Heller’s photos from a recent trip to Namibia.  Ephraim’s captions are indented, and you can enlarge his photos by clicking on them:

Today I continue my series on a May-June 2026 visit to Namibia. I’m organizing the posts by habitat, in the order of our visits, so that you get a sense of the ecosystems. Today’s post features the Skeleton Coast, yet another coastal desert region.

Stretching 500 km along the Atlantic, the Skeleton Coast is where the cold, nutrient-rich waters of the Benguela Current collide with the Namib Desert, producing dense coastal fogs most mornings. The indigenous San once called the region “the Land God Made in Anger.” Portuguese mariners knew it as the Gates of Hell.

The name “Skeleton Coast” has a dual origin. It first referred to the vast quantities of whale and seal bones that once littered the beaches, remnants of the 19th- and early-20th-century whaling industry. Over time the moniker also came to encompass the skeletal remains of the ships wrecked along one of the most dangerous coastlines in the world. There are about 300 recorded shipwrecks, with a total of >1,000 estimated over centuries. Persistent, dense fog reduces visibility to near zero for days at a time. Strong, unpredictable currents and heavy surf pound the beaches. Offshore rocks and poorly charted shoals lie just beneath the surface. Before modern navigation systems, the featureless desert coastline offered almost no landmarks, and any shipwrecked sailor who managed to reach shore faced a waterless, nearly lifeless desert.

One of the most dramatic wrecks occurred in late November 1942 and the story was told in the book “Skeleton Coast” (John Marsh, 1944). The British refrigerated cargo ship MV Dunedin Star, carrying passengers, crew, and war supplies, struck a submerged obstacle. The master beached the vessel about 550 yards offshore. A motor lifeboat managed to ferry 63 of the 106 passengers and crew to the desolate beach before it was disabled by the heavy surf, leaving the remaining 43 people stranded on the breaking-up ship and those ashore with almost no supplies. What followed was a >2 month rescue operation that itself was plagued by bad luck and the difficult conditions of the Skeleton Coast. Here’s a photo of the Dunedin Star (courtesy of bluestarline.org):

Within hours of the distress signal reaching Walvis Bay, the South African tug Sir Charles Elliot and the minesweeper HMSAS Nerine set out, soon joined by the cargo ships Temeraire and Manchester Division. A land convoy of trucks departed from Windhoek and crossed the roadless desert to reach the survivors on the beach.

South African Air Force Lockheed Ventura aircraft flew supply drops, many of which were swept away by the wind and currents. One aircraft landed on what appeared to be firm ground only to sink into a salt pan, becoming stranded. Several weeks later, a recovery party returned for the plane. After on-site repairs and several days of digging the plane free, they managed to get it airborne again on January 29, 1943. The aircraft flew for about 43 minutes before one of the engines failed and it crashed into the sea. The crew survived the ditching, swam ashore, and were rescued by the returning land convoy a couple of days later.

While all of the Dunedin Star passengers and crew survived and returned to port by late December, 1942, some of the rescuers did not return until early February, 1943. However, the tug Sir Charles Elliot grounded near Rocky Point while returning, with two crew members losing their lives.

Enough with the history lesson. Now for the animals:

Cape fur seals (Arctocephalus pusillus pusillus) are the most conspicuous animals on the coast, with breeding colonies reaching more than 100,000–200,000 individuals during the November–December peak. The colony that I saw numbered about 1,000:

Males establish and vigorously defend harems of up to ~50 females, fasting for weeks while defending territory:

We saw (and smelled) many pup carcasses. High pup mortality from stampeding, predation, and starvation is the norm. The carcasses are the primary food for scavenging jackals and hyenas:

Black-backed jackals (Lupulella mesomelas) are one of the most basal extant wolf-like canids, with a fossil record extending back 2-3 million years and relatively little morphological change since the Pleistocene. On the Skeleton Coast their diet is opportunistic: they take seal pups and afterbirth, scavenge carcasses, and hunt birds and small mammals. Their kidneys are adapted to water scarcity, allowing them to thrive where freestanding water is absent:

Brown hyenas (Parahyaena brunnea) are the rarest of the living hyenas (global population 4,000–10,000) and is listed as Near Threatened. Sightings are rare, as they are shy and nocturnal. I was very lucky:

Along the Skeleton Coast they are beachcombers, ranging long distances at night to feed on seal carcasses, abandoned pups, and whatever jackals or other predators leave behind. Their jaws and dentition crack bones that many other carnivores cannot process. They live in small, stable clans (typically 4–6 related individuals) but forage largely alone. All clan members help provision cubs at communal dens:

Just inland from the beach begin the sand dunes. In this apparently sterile environment, I found a tractrac chat (Emarginata tractrac):

I normally don’t post lodge photos, but the lodge at which I stayed was remarkable both for its architecture and isolation. At over 120 km to the nearest village and over 400 km to the nearest paved road, I believe that it may be the most remote place I have slept. The buildings have a nautical motif: