
Understanding plains zebra society could prove crucial to conserving Africa's tropical grasslands
Copyright
Jessica Snyder Sachs, as first appeared in National Wildlife magazine
THE DRY SEASON grips the highland savanna of eastern Africa
between late May and early June. As the relentless sun drives the last bit of
moisture from the soil, the verdant highlands shrivel to yellow and brown.
Herds of antelope, gazelle, wildebeest, elephant and buffalo gather by the
hundreds of thousands, chafing to begin their annual migration to the lowlands
to find water. Lions, hyenas and other predators likewise ready themselves to
follow their prey on the seasonal journey.
But none can leave the depleted highlands
until the plains zebra departs--and readies lowland grasses for the grazers that
follow. "They start the whole grazing succession," says Princeton
University ecologist Daniel Rubenstein, who has been studying the species for
the past 15 years. Because zebras have an unusual hindgut digestive system rich
in fermenting microbes, they can gorge on the low-quality coarse straw
available at the start of the rainy season. Buried beneath this
sunlight-blocking thatch lies the tender new growth upon which all other
grazers depend. This means that from the vast, acacia-dotted savannas of the
Serengeti, south through Zambia's scrubby woodlands and the treeless veldt of South
Africa, the plains zebra plays an unmatched role in maintaining some of the
most biologically diverse habitat on the planet.
Consequently, the long-term conservation of
Africa's tropical grasslands relies on the wise stewardship of this linchpin
species, says Rubenstein. In partnership with the African Wildlife Foundation
and Earthwatch Institute, he currently heads a broad-based project aimed at
integrating zebra conservation with the rapid growth of agriculture, livestock
and game-ranching industries in eastern Africa.
To the tourist on safari, the plains zebra
certainly looks to be thriving. Indeed, where these zebras still occur, their
inimitable stripes dominate the landscape, with a population of nearly 665,000,
dwarfing that of its two gravely endangered cousins--the Grevy's zebra of Kenya
and the mountain zebra of Namibia and South Africa.
"But if you actually look at the
details," says Rubenstein, "you see that the plains zebra has been
extirpated from much of its historic range." Today, 70 percent of its
population concentrates in just two countries, Kenya and Tanzania. Ecotourism
dollars have enabled these nations to protect large swaths of lowland zebra
habitat inside national parks. But just outside park borders, farms and ranches
have sprung up to block many of the age-old migration routes that zebras need
to cross between dry season refuges and lusher uplands. Though the lengths of
these migration routes vary widely, many populations travel hundreds of miles a
year.

In Tanzania, for example,"there used to
be nine migratory routes out of Tarangire National Park," says Rubenstein.
"Now there are only two or three left, all on privately owned land."
Because of the low quality of their grasses, dry-season refuges such as
Tarangire can't support large populations of zebras unless the animals can
fatten up in adjacent highlands during the wet season.
How this changing landscape will affect the
plains zebra is unknown. But what is certain, given Rubenstein's studies, is
that human activities are affecting the species' unique multilayered social
structure.
At the core of plains zebra society is a
breeding group, or harem, with a single breeding stallion, up to six mares and
their young. Rubenstein has discovered that although the stallion defends his
harem from danger and harassment, the mares generally call the shots. "The
males that let their females do what they want--organize behind the scenes and
choose the kind of grazing they want--those are the stallions that get the most
females," he says.
As with many social mammals, female plains
zebras form strong, long-term bonds with one another and stay together even
after the death of a stallion. What's unusual is that the females in a zebra
harem are not related. And unlike many other large mammals--such as lionesses
and female elephants, which form alliances with sisters and daughters--plains
zebra mares cast out all of their offspring. "In fact, it's usually the
young females who get the message first and take a hike," says Rubenstein.
In her second year, a maturing filly goes in search of a young stallion. A
young male leaves by his third year, either to join a bachelor group or begin
recruiting his own harem.
Adding more complexity, stallions and their
harems often band together to form a much larger, loose-knit herd of several
hundred, where the females freely comingle. Yet the stallions generally resist
pilfering each other's mares. The purpose behind these superherds appears to be
defense against raiding parties of bachelor males. "A single stallion set
upon by a large group of bachelors has little chance of defending his females.
As he barrels into the mob, taking on five or six of the marauders, the others
just stream around him and head for the females," says Rubenstein. By
contrast, a coalition of stallions can present a united front to keep the
interlopers at bay. Rubenstein has observed that the more bachelors in a given
area, the larger the combined-harem herds.
This elaborate social system complicates the
task of conserving and managing the plains zebra. Many zebras live on private
game ranches, where hunters target established stallions--the male's brighter
coat makes for the most desirable trophy and the "homebody" stallions
tend to be easier to find than the farther-ranging, vagabond bachelors. But increasing
the proportion of bachelors causes surviving stallions and mares to band
together even more, producing an unnatural herd size. "It's creating a
whole new population structure," says Rubenstein, "It's not clear
whether this is natural or sustainable, or what it might mean for the
future."
More clear-cut is the impact that stallion
hunting has on the zebra birth rate. Remove a harem's stallion and the
fertility of the surviving mares drops dramatically for at least two years
while young and inexperienced bachelors vie for control. "From a game
management point of view, that means fewer babies," says Rubenstein,
"a fact that has to be taken into consideration when setting hunting
quotas if zebra populations are going to remain self-sustaining."
That said, wild populations as large as the
plains zebra's can adapt to new pressures. But only if they have enough space.
"Free run is the issue," says Rubenstein. "The zebras can take
care of themselves."
Jessica Snyder Sachs, a regular contributor
to National Wildlife magazine, is the author of Good Germs, Bad Germs: Health and Survival in a Bacterial World (Hill&Wang/FSG) and Corpse: Nature, Forensics, and the Struggle to Pinpoint Time of Death (Perseus/Basic Books).
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