Trying To Save The Snails of Hawaii

Endlings:

When the last of a species disappears, it usually does so unnoticed, somewhere in the wild. Only later, when repeated searches come up empty, will researchers reluctantly acknowledge that the species must be extinct. But in rare cases like George’s, when people are caring for an animal’s last known representative, extinction—an often abstract concept—becomes painfully concrete. It happens on their watch, in real time. It leaves behind a body. When Sischo rang in the new year, Achatinella apexfulva existed. A day later, it did not. “It is happening right in front of our eyes,” he said.

Hawaii was once known for its snails, or kāhuli. Most are smaller than the average garden snail, and far more beautiful. ... But in recent decades, kāhuli have come to exemplify the opposite force: extinction. Confined to specific valleys, slow to breed, and inexperienced with predators, they are uniquely vulnerable to the carnivores that have been introduced to Hawaii. Rats and chameleons are serious threats, but their archnemesis is another snail—Euglandina rosea, the aptly named rosy wolf snail. Voracious and fast (for a snail), it tracks its indigenous cousins by following their slime trails, then yanks them from their shells with a serrated tongue or swallows them, shell and all.