This venemous toad is a symbol of luck and prosperity in Panamá, but is it just any golden frog?
My First Encounter
A highlight of my 2017-2018 gap year was briefly visiting the breeding population of Panamanian golden frogs (Atelopus zeteki) at the Brookfield Zoo in Chicago; seeing them in Panama seemed like an impossible dream, even if only in captivity as they have likely been extinct in the wild since 2006. Panama’s golden frog is a national symbol of prosperity and luck. Almost losing this frog has generated national discussion and education about the amphibian chytrid fungus. Today, the Panamanian golden frog is recognized as critically endangered by the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s (IUCN) Red List of Threatened Species, but many species threatened by this fungus still lack international recognition and protection.
Since Panama was one of the first nations to observe the effects of chytridiomycosis, the Panamanian government and various US zoos have taken many initiatives to conserve the magnificent amphibians of Panama. Conservation work consists mostly of captive breeding programs and attempts to preserve and revitalize natural habitat for eventual repopulation. I hoped during my time there to witness environments preserved by this powerful conservation movement, to stand in restored rainforests and find healthy frogs, but that dream is still a long way away. I wrote during my application for the Watson fellowship about wanting to learn what the golden frog means to Panamanians, and how their probable extinction in the wild affects their national perception as a symbol of luck. I have been surprised by the reality.
Panama's "Golden Frogs"
My first time in the historic range of the Panamanian golden frog was September 22nd 2022, in a town called Altos de Maria. This luxurious retirement community situated above El Valle de Antón is littered with ornamental pine trees in an attempt to look like the Italian countryside. The area was stunning albeit a little out of place. We trudged through rivers and descended into forested valleys to distribute audio recorders along three transects. Half way through our second transect, my coworker Orlando's phone let out a starkly unnatural "ding" from Facebook messenger. He glanced at the message and released a deep sigh. "¿Que pasó?" I asked him. "You know, the usual." he responded somewhat poignantly. "Someone sent me a photo of Dendropsophus ebraccatus (the latin name of a small yellow tree frog) and is claiming the golden frog is no longer extinct in the wild..." I was dumbfounded. "Wouldn't it be easier for them to look up a photo of the golden frog than to reach out to you?" I asked in Spanish. As a wildlife tour guide, Orlando is the only connection to the world of herpetology for a lot of people around Panamá. At lunch that afternoon, looking out over El Valle de Antón, I asked Orlando and Jorge what they considered to be public awareness of the amphibian chytrid fungus. "Nada." Nothing. That broke my heart right in half. But we are the hope. We’re the ones hoping and we’re the only ones who are going to change anything, so we need to provide the hope for ourselves that humans are better than this. "Today has been a heavy and enlightening day." I wrote in my journal.
I begin all of my Uber rides from Panama City with, "Gracias por venir, sé que Gamboa es un poco lejos..." My drivers often chuckle at this, my courteous thank you, because the 40 minute drive outside the city is a little farther than "un poco lejos." But I say it every time because it lightens the mood and it gets us talking. One evening I went out for bubble tea with a new friend, and we split the price of a ride home. After dropping her off, I asked our driver how long she had worked for uber. "Cinco años," she said, but she had never been to Gamboa. She asked what I was doing there, and I said I work with the "Rana Dorada." "Oh, that's a great restaurant!" she remarked. I wasn't sure how to respond, "You know, it's also a real animal. But they're extinct in the wild." "Oh, I know it's real, but they're not extinct!" she said, "I'm from Colón, and we see them all the time there." I knew she must be talking about the hourglass tree frog (Dendrophsophus ebraccatus), but I wasn't sure if it was the right time to say anything. "We have plenty of animals that are really rare in other parts of Panamá: ocelots, pumas, coatimundis, and of course lots of golden frogs. They're actually quite common there." She was so proud of where she came from, I didn't have the heart to say anything more than, "Wow, I didn't know all that. That makes me really glad."
What This Means for Conservation
If Panamanians can find pride in any yellow frog, why should we work to conserve Atelopus zeteki? This question is the cornerstone of everything I work towards. We could answer simply that the decline of the golden frogs was driven by a fungal disease introduced by humans and we therefore have a moral obligation to preserve them. However, the same goes for hundreds of amphibians across the globe, so we must work to conserve them all. We often discuss amphibian's importance as bioindicators for environmental health, though the chytrid fungus can wipe them out of nearly pristine habitat so that argument hardly applies in this case. A wonderful reason for the conservation of the golden frog is that is provides hope. By keeping this species alive in captivity and exhibiting them in zoos and other conservation facilities, we are preserving a legacy of earth's biological past, and the hope for its future. Panama's golden frog has become a poster child for rainforest conservation, thus creating an umbrella under which various species will receive protection. If the last of the golden frogs died tomorrow, there would still be little yellow tree frogs to find and remind people of a bygone age, but it won't mean the same thing to most of us as the hope we have for the eventual release of Atelopus zeteki back into the wild.
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