The Power of Poo: Why Conservationists Are Turning to Animal Scat to Protect Wildlife

There is no other substance that can tell you so much about an animal you may never see.
The researcher argues scat is an unlikely but powerful conservation tool for elusive species.
Mark

Why would scientists go to such lengths over droppings?

Mimi

Because the animals they most want to protect are rare and hard to see. Scat tells you they are there, roughly how many, what they eat and whether they're sick, without anyone catching them.

Mark

The dogs stand out. What did they actually show?

Mimi

In one study they found about 53% more koala scat than human searchers did.

Luke

Worth noting that's one study, and it's koalas. It doesn't tell us the dogs would beat people by that margin for other species or terrain.

Mark

And the disease testing? Is that equally solid?

Mimi

For koala chlamydia, scat results were as accurate as invasive swabs. That matters because swabbing is uncomfortable for the animal.

Luke

Again, that's the one disease named. The piece doesn't say the same holds for other pathogens.

Mark

What about the genetic work?

Mimi

It's been used on greater bilbies, ghost bats in northern Australia, and snow leopards on the Tibetan plateau, where they found the cats don't cross between breeding sites.

Luke

The big caveat is degradation. DNA breaks down outdoors, and the author says more work is needed before scat can replace blood and tissue samples. How soon that happens isn't stated.

  • Threatened species are so few and so elusive that finding them at all has become a race against their disappearance.
  • Trapping and swabbing animals for health checks causes stress and disruption, pushing researchers toward a gentler alternative.
  • Detection dogs and systematic grid searches are being combined to hunt scat more thoroughly, with dogs finding over half again as much as people.
  • Scat is being read for diet, microbiome, disease and genetic diversity, guiding fences, feeding plans and breeding decisions.
  • The tool is landing as promising but fragile, since outdoor exposure breaks down DNA and scientists are racing to find ways to preserve it.

Every living creature leaves something of itself behind, and for the scientists who guard threatened species, the humble dropping has become a quiet archive of life. In this account, a wildlife researcher recounts how scat, the droppings of wild animals, can reveal what creatures eat, which diseases they carry, how many remain, and how varied their inherited traits are, all without trapping or handling them. Its value lies in its gentleness: species that hide and dwindle can be understood without being disturbed. The method is still maturing, since the DNA it holds fades under open sky, but it offers a patient way of listening to animals that are slipping away.

One morning, before her team set out to trap and monitor Tasmanian devils, a wildlife researcher found her boots wrecked, their laces gone. The culprit was soon found in a nearby trap: an older female devil, carrying several inches of shoelace in her scat. The episode is amusing, but it opens a serious subject. Scat, the droppings of wild animals, has become a vital tool in conservation, and for researchers studying devil diets it has meant long hours searching for it and then picking it apart.

Finding it has always been difficult. Scientists walk set transects and collect what they see, and some now bring in detection dogs whose noses can outperform human eyes. In one study, dogs located about 53% more koala scat than people did. The effort matters because threatened species are rare and secretive, and scat can show whether a species is present at all and help estimate how many remain.

Scat also reveals what an animal eats and the health of its gut microbiome, the community of bacteria and viruses that aids digestion and immunity. Devils eat almost anything, and tracking their diet helps keep captive animals well fed and shows which prey needs protection, guiding decisions such as where to build exclusion fences. Disease monitoring benefits too. Rather than trapping animals for blood or swab samples, researchers can detect infections such as chlamydia in koalas from scat alone, with accuracy matching invasive tests.

Finally, scat carries cells from the gut, and their DNA shows how genetically diverse an animal is. Diversity helps species adapt to disease and climate change, and scat DNA has helped study bilbies, ghost bats and snow leopards. Yet the method has limits: outdoors, DNA breaks down quickly. Researchers are working on ways to preserve samples in the field, but until those methods mature, scat remains a powerful complement to, rather than a replacement for, blood and tissue sampling.

One morning, before her team set out to trap and monitor Tasmanian devils, a wildlife researcher woke to find her boots wrecked and stripped of their laces. The culprit did not take long to find. In a trap not far from the campsite sat an older female devil, and in her scat were several inches of shoelace.

The episode is a funny one, but the researcher uses it to make a serious point: scat, the scientific term for wild animal droppings, is a vital part of species conservation. It comes in every shape, from the cube-like droppings of wombats to the small round pellets of rabbits. For researchers studying devil diets, it has meant countless hours of searching for scat and then pulling it apart to study what is inside.

The traditional way to find it is a systematic grid search. Scientists set up transects, narrow paths running across a study area, and collect whatever scat they see. More recently, some have brought in detection dogs, trained to sniff it out with their millions of olfactory receptors. In one study, the dogs found about 53% more koala scat than human searchers did.

The effort is worth it because threatened species live in low numbers and are often elusive, which makes them hard to find and harder to monitor. Scat can show whether a species lives in an area at all, and it can be used to estimate how many animals are there.

It also records what an animal eats and how healthy its gut microbiome is. That microbiome, the community of bacteria and viruses in the digestive system, supports digestion and immunity, and it shifts with where an animal lives. Captive Tasmanian devils have significantly fewer bacteria in their scat than wild ones, yet once released they pick up new bacteria quickly and adjust. Diet shapes the microbiome most of all, and devils eat nearly anything: shoelaces, wetsuit zippers, frogs, fish, even sheep. Tracking this lets scientists meet the nutritional needs of captive animals. It also shows which prey, including wallabies and birds, devils eat most often, so protections such as exclusion fences can be put in place.

Disease monitoring is another use. Scientists usually trap animals and take blood or swab samples, similar to COVID tests for people, which can be uncomfortable for the animal. Because bodies shed infectious material in scat, it offers a non-invasive way to detect harmful bacteria, viruses and parasites. Researchers can identify koalas with chlamydia from scat alone, with results as accurate as invasive swabs.

Scat also carries genetic information. As it passes through the body it collects cells lining the gut, and DNA extracted from them reveals how genetically diverse an animal is. More diversity is generally better, since variation helps animals adapt to threats like disease and climate change. Scat DNA has been used to assess the genetic diversity of the greater bilby, to study the breeding and movement of ghost bats across remote northern Australia, and to determine that snow leopards do not travel across breeding sites on the Tibetan plateau.

There are limits. Exposed to the elements, DNA in scat degrades quickly, making reliable data harder to extract. Researchers are looking at ways to keep scat fresh in the field, but more work is needed before scientists can rely on it instead of blood and tissue samples.

Scat is a powerful, and perhaps unlikely, conservation tool.
— Wildlife researcher, The Conversation
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