Captain Choloepus lands in Central America

Another tough day on the job. I first visited the headquarters of the Pan-American Conservation Association back in March, to assist on the shoot of Lucy Cooke's infamous Sloths calendar

First published on A Focus on Nature's Blog.

It's four o'clock on a Sunday morning, and I'm stood beside a check-in desk at Heathrow airport discussing sloth body odour with a pair of American tourists. This curious conversation has come thanks to the flimsy piece of A4 paper I have tucked under my right arm sporting, in bold, black ink, the mission statement that I’ll be carrying with me for the next three months. In a few hours, we'd both be going our separate ways - while they returned to regular life in Washington, I was about to board a plane to Panama to embark on my biggest and most exciting adventure yet…

It's been three days since I arrived here in Gamboa. This historic canal-side town - home to the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute - must be the only place where scientists outnumber regular, working citizens; you can rarely drive anywhere without spotting at least one towering mist net or elaborate tracking device. My home for the next three months is a pastel yellow, weatherboard three-story that’s nestled in the heart of the Soberania National Park, a 55,000 acre patch of ancient, protected forest that holds host to a wealth of incredible life, from giant, alien-looking moths to sci-fi frogs and technicolour toucans. But there's one animal that I'm particularly excited about encountering, and it’s quite possibly the most otherworldly of them all. It is, of course, the sloth.

Captain Choloepus reporting for duty...

For those of you that don’t know (or haven’t already guessed) I’m unashamedly obsessed with sloths. It’s hard not to be brainwashed by their sweet, smiling faces and wonderfully weird ways, particularly when you’ve got a job that involves looking at photos of them day in, day out… Last October, I landed the role as manager of Lucy Cooke’s Sloth Appreciation Society and since then I’ve grown incredibly passionate about championing these kooky creatures. As part of my sloth-saving mission, this summer I’ve teamed up with the Pan-American Conservation Association (APPC) - Panama’s only conservation and wildlife rescue organisation - to document what it really takes to rescue, rehabilitate and release wild sloths, and to even give it a go myself…

Upon leaving Tocumen International Airport that Sunday evening, I was greeted by a band of ominous-looking clouds which served as a useful reminder of what I should expect from the weather over the course of the next ninety days. It was wet season, and my driver Alfonzo was quick to warn me of the mysterious nature of the rains here: sudden, heavy downpours could be expected every day from now, right the way up until the end of December.

I should count myself lucky that heavy rain is all I’ll have to contend with: the creatures I’ve come here avenge have it far worse. One of the biggest modern-day drivers of sloth death and injury across Central and South America is habitat destruction and fragmentation. Humankind’s relentless decimation of the forest is leaving these animals, along with many others, incredibly vulnerable to everything from road traffic strikes and power line electrocutions to genetic deformities and even human cruelty.

In many cases, this is where the APPC steps in. Fronting the entire operation is biologist and conservationist Néstor Correa and his wife, Yiscel Yanguez. The pair have dedicated their entire lives to rescuing and rehabilitating Panamanian wildlife, and over the course of their organisation’s fourteen year history, they’ve been responsible for returning more than 3,500 sick, orphaned and injured animals back into the wild. 

That having been said, it’s perhaps not surprising to hear that the APPC’s HQ is positively bursting with peculiar patients. Almost every inch of the place (which also happens to double up as Néstor and Yiscel’s home) has been modified with the animals' health and welfare in mind; even the back garden is occupied, acting as a vital safe haven for a tapir named Valencia. She’s one of less than 5,000 Baird’s tapirs left on the planet, and Néstor tells me that she cannot be released thanks to how vulnerable she’d be to local poachers. Poaching is just one of many the reasons why her kind is now teetering on the edge of extinction, and is exactly why she herself ended up orphaned and in need of the APPC’s help four years ago, her mother having been captured and killed for her meat. Her terrible table manners having since been excused, Valencia now lives a life of luxury with bananas and human fuss on tap, as well as her very own private swimming pool and trusty agouti sidekick.

Valencia is one of just 5,000 Baird's tapirs left on the planet. I highly doubt that the selfie skills of the other 4,900 are quite as refined as hers...

Out of all the types of animal the APPC receives - and the list is extensive - sloths account for around 30% of all rescue cases. There are currently seventeen sloths here, seven of which are fewer than six months old, and in need of round-the-clock care. Baby Branston was the first to greet me when I arrived - he and his best buddy Pickle were both found orphaned in nearby areas of fragmented forest earlier in the year, and brought here by members the country’s Ecological Police.

Pickle (right) is happy to tolerate Branston's constant attempts to steal his milk at dinner time in exchange for plenty of hugs

Over the course of the next three months, I’ll be following the progress of Branston, Pickle, and all the rest of the APPC’s slow-mo patients as they undergo treatment and rehabilitation ahead of their release. I’ll be discovering why so many of Central America’s wild animal populations are under threat, and finding out about what’s being done to protect them here in Panama, and beyond.