Two weeks on the tundra: Tracking threatened emperor geese in Alaska's wetlands

Posted by Joanna Klass, Woodland Park Zoo Animal Care Manager

Editor's Note: In addition to being an Animal Care Manager at Woodland Park Zoo, Joanna serves as Vice Chair for the Association of Zoos and Aquariums' Anseriformes Taxon Advisory Group. She also volunteers with the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, which heads up the research project she writes about here.

Emperor geese at Woodland Park Zoo. Photo: Jeremy Dwyer-Lindgren/Woodland Park Zoo

If anyone saw me walking through the airport last June, they would’ve thought ‘TSA is going to love her!’. The item in question was a portable incubator, which on the outside looks like a hard, black briefcase with wires and a temperature readout on the front. In other words, not your typical roller-bag luggage. So, why was I taking this unusual item through the TSA gauntlet? It had a very important place to be—the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta in southwestern Alaska. I was invited by Tasha DiMarzio, a waterfowl biologist for the Alaska Department of Fish and Game (ADFG), to assist with implanting GPS transmitters in 30 female emperor geese (Anser canagicus) and collecting eggs from greater white-fronted geese (Anser albifrons) to hatch and raise as part of a banding study. I met Tasha back in 2016 at a workshop in North Carolina and we quickly became friends while bonding over all things waterfowl. When she mentioned the possibility of volunteering with an emperor goose project being led by Tyler Lewis, PhD and Principal Investigator, I responded with an enthusiastic ‘Heck yeah!’

Joanna holds an emperor goose that was part of the tagging study. Photo: Scott Ford, DVM

The emperor goose is one of ADFG’s target species. A striking bird with a bold, snowy head and luminous pearly-gray feathers edged with black and white, the species is endemic to coastal Alaska, northeastern Russia, and into Canada. Their declining population is currently listed as Near Threatened by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN). This is due to several factors, including the fact that they don't reach breeding age until they're around 3 years old, they don't nest every year, and they have low juvenile survival rates with roughly 1 in 10 goslings not making it through their first year. Their global population estimate as of 2019 is around 140,000 individuals. The goal of implanting transmitters into females was three-fold: to track site usage, hen survival, and estimate brood survival. If the females remain in the nesting area after tagging, they are likely raising goslings in the food-rich wetlands. If they leave before their young are old enough to fledge, their brood likely failed, and they are now focusing their energy reserves on molting.

Eighty percent of the world’s emperor geese breed along the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta coast, with the remaining nesting along coastal areas of northwest Alaska and in Siberia. Map of habitat range: Courtesy of Alaska Department of Fish and Game

You may be wondering, ‘If emperor geese are the target species, why did you collect greater white-fronted goose eggs?’ and I would say ‘Excellent question!’ Greater white-fronted geese share similar habitat with emperors and are around the same size. They are also extremely abundant not just in North America, but in Europe and Asia as well, with an estimated global population of around 5-6 million birds and an IUCN listing of Least Concern. Their robust population is much less sensitive to disturbance, so permitting allowed for collection of greater white-fronted eggs in lieu of emperors. 2-3 eggs per nest were taken, leaving 2-3 left for the geese to raise. The goal for egg collection was to raise goslings under human care and test out different types of tags and transmitters that could be safely fitted at a young age to wild emperor goslings and other applicable species. This would give a more accurate picture of wild gosling survival rates. Performing this work in a controlled setting allows close monitoring of the goslings in case any issues arise with the transmitters. It helps ensure that these methods and devices are safe before deployment on wild birds, who we may never have in hand again. A priority of fieldwork is minimizing its impact on wildlife, and this is no exception.

Researchers traverse through the wetlands of the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta in southwestern Alaska. Photo: Joanna Klass/Woodland Park Zoo

To capture these birds, we first needed to set up camp. This involved bringing all of our supplies for the next few weeks in on float planes. I felt like a Clydesdale clomping through mud as we lugged our totes and tents across the delta towards the pingos I’d be calling home. Pingos are hills that form when a mass of ice grows beneath the earth, pushing the ground upward. On a floodplain, they’re a refuge for wildlife (and researchers!) trying to escape the muddy waters.

An emperor goose nest in the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta of southwestern Alaska. Photo: Tasha DiMarzio

The next step was to scout for nests. The field technicians could cover between 8-20 or more miles in a day searching for emperor and greater white-fronted nests. When a nest was discovered, a pin would be dropped on the handheld GPS device, the hen would be flushed off the nest, and the bow net put into place with either a remote trigger or with the classic string attachment, Wile E. Coyote style. We would then keep our distance and give the female time to come back to her nest. The following day, the technicians set out with crates and GPS units at the ready, aiming to trap. The bulk of my involvement was as veterinary assistant in the field surgery tent with Dr. Scott Ford, a veterinarian who specializes in GPS transmitter implantation. Here, we waited for the field team to bring back the hens. This team was comprised of Tyler, Michael Guttery, PhD, Jason Herreman, MS, and Tasha DiMarzio.

Joanna carefully monitors heart rate and respiration of the goose during the procedure. Photo: Tyler Lewis, PhD

Once they brought back a hen, field anesthesia to insert the transmitter was performed. I monitored respiration, heart rate, and assisted Dr. Ford with surgical instrument and fluid preparation. I also got the highly coveted job of sitting with the geese as they recovered before placing them into the recovery tent. A groggy goose is shockingly adorable. After about an hour, the tent was opened to allow for a soft release once the bird was ready. If any birds showed signs of lethargy or needing additional time, we held them back a bit longer so they could recover with a companion.

Once the procedure was finished, the "patients" got to wake up and recuperate with companions in a quiet recovery tent until they were ready for release. Photo: Joanna Klass 

After completing the 30 field procedures, the greater white-fronted goose egg collection began. On the tundra, there is no hiding – the amount of visibility could make anyone feel eagle-eyed. We needed to tread carefully so as not to disturb the emperor geese after their procedures, or the plethora of other nesting loons, waterfowl, cranes, gulls, longspurs, and shorebirds. If we accidentally flushed a bird off the nest, we quickly covered the eggs with peat and grasses to hide them from prying eyes. Gulls and jaegers are omnipresent on the tundra, and passing up a fresh omelet is not something they’re apt to do.

Carefully packing each greater white-fronted goose egg into the incubator. Photo: Jacob Kraemer

During the afternoon of our last day, we set out in teams of two to collect the eggs. Jacob Kraemer, the Director of Pinola Conservancy’s Aviary in Shreveport, Louisiana, then monitored the eggs overnight. A generator was on site to ensure the incubators were holding temperature properly. I am happy to report that 31 of the eggs successfully hatched and the goslings are being closely monitored by staff at Pinola.

In this wild part of Alaska, transportation is by float plane. Photo: Michael Guttery, PhD

The view of these fragile wetlands from above is spectacular! Photo: Joanna Klass

The next morning, we packed up camp with our new precious cargo and waited for the float planes to arrive before the tide ebbed. I soaked up the last rays of tundra sunshine, packing as many memories away as my mind’s library could store. I doubted any bed would be more comfortable than the soft peat beneath my tent.

An emperor goose chick—called a gosling—that hatched at Woodland Park Zoo several years ago. Photo: Jeremy Dwyer-Lindgren/Woodland Park Zoo

Here at Woodland Park Zoo, we have two pairs of emperor geese. One pair, Mimi and Poppi, can be seen in the Marsh exhibit in the Temperate Forest. Our other pair, Matthew and Roberta, are in an off-exhibit yard with other geese. Both pairs are accomplished parents, and we hope to continue working with this incredible species for years to come.