Ding Yuhua vividly remembers the day when his old lost friends came
back from the dead. It was a sweltering summer day in 1986 and the
young student heard the cries of his mentor Ma Jianzhang, an
established expert on wildlife protection: "The milu deer have come
back!"
The 32-year-old was studying in the Northeast Forestry
University in Harbin of Heilongjiang Province and the milu's return
marked the beginning of his memorable career.
The rare animal, also known as Pere David's deer, was first
recorded in China more than 2,000 years ago and the wetland species
was known for its unique appearance. It had a camel's neck, a
donkey's tail, cow-like hooves and stag antlers. Chinese often
called this strange creature Sibuxiang - Four Unlikes.
The deer became extinct in China at the turn of the 20th century
and it wasn't until 1985 that 22 of them returned from Britain,
where they had been kept at Woburn Abbey by the dukes of Bedford.
More followed. In 1986, 39 milu at Dafeng Nature Reserve, east
China's Jiangsu Province.
Ding is a native of Dafeng and the veterinarian has devoted his
life work to the animals and has become China's "father of
milu".
When the deer came back from England, Ding was assigned to the
milu project and he had to ride his bicycle for more than two hours
across wild terrain to the reserve - a large area of wetlands.
The reserve had nine staff, including Ding, the only technician.
His dormitory was a 15-square-meter thatched cottage, which he
shared with two colleagues. The roof was so low that they had to
bow when entering. The desk was made up of a broken wooden case.
The air was thick with mosquitoes and a random swat in the air
could kill dozens of them, some as big as flies.
"Life was not easy, but as a young man who had just started his
new career, I was overwhelmed by the arrival of milu," Ding
said.
Joy soon turned to anxiety. The team knew little about the
species and the first problem to solve was what to feed it. What
does a 3-million-year-old camel/donkey/cow/deer eat?
They invited a British expert to help, but he would take one
month to arrive. There was no international calls, no Internet, not
even a telephone. So Ding experimented. He offered the deer various
kinds of grass and observed which type they preferred. He found 198
kinds of grass for milu, many of which were never recorded
before.
Like anyone involved in protecting endangered wildlife, Ding was
eager to see more deer born and grown in the reserve. To his joy,
26 female deer were soon pregnant. However dystocia, a problem
affecting the birth of this species, caused the death of the first
six fawns. Ding rested only two or three hours a day, keeping a
telescope on his neck and writing everything in his notebook to
observe the pregnant deer.
About 5 pm on April 3, 1987, a pregnant milu left the herd. Ding
could tell she was going to deliver, so he followed the deer, who
stopped beside a ditch. To get a better view, he climbed a
3-meter-high bamboo fence about 50 meters away, as milu is a shy
animal that fears humans. About one hour later, the fawn was
born.
Ding said the mother licked her baby all over and after 20
minutes, with wobbly legs, the newborn struggled to stand, and
began to search for his mother's nipple, but suddenly fell into the
nearby ditch.
Ding jumped over the fence and rushed to the fallen fawn. He
dried the baby deer with his own coat, then quickly placed it
beside its mother and ran back to the fence to continue
observation. He feared if he had stayed longer with the baby, the
mother would abandon it if she smells the scent of human
beings.
It was a cold early spring evening, but Ding recalled feeling
nothing but warmth all over. "I was overjoyed," he said. "The
reserve finally had a live milu baby!" His colleagues brought him
wine. They had a joyful night. Though not much of a wine drinker,
Ding recalled with a smile, that he became a big drinker that
night.
In the same year, another 12 deer were born and six survived.
Ding continued his observation every day, most of the time wearing
an army-style overcoat whether it was a warm June day or cold
December night. The green coat made him a familiar existence to the
vigilant deer.
His unremitting effort is now recorded in his 500,000-word
observation diary, a book on milu studies and 42 essays published
both at home and abroad. Now there are 1,007 milu in the reserve,
accounting for about one-third of the endangered deer's world
population and half of the Chinese population.
To return milu back to nature, however, is always the ultimate
goal of the reserve. What made Ding determined to stop the
captivity was a "rub" between him and one of his beloved
"children".
In 1998, Ding and his colleagues were talking with journalists,
when a young male milu jumped out of the fence and rushed toward
the crowd. Ding dashed toward it and grasped its antlers. But Ding
was not a match for the deer weighing about 250 kilograms.
The deer threw his "father" off balance. Out of inertia, the
deer jumped over Ding and fell on the ground. When it stood up and
headed towards Ding, some colleagues scared it away with a loud
shout.
Ding realized that the captive breeding method was no longer
suitable for these wild creatures.
Later that year he selected eight deer and began another major
campaign - to return milu to the nature. The deer were fitted with
wireless receivers and released into the wetlands. Five years
later, the first baby milu was born in the wild since the species
disappeared in China a century ago. This fawn's birth finally
removed milu from the red list of endangered animals published by
the World Conservation Union.
Now there are 83 wild milu living in the reserve's nearby area.
Ding is hopeful that the wild milu's population could surpass 100
this year.
His colleagues and other people often call Ding "father of
milu", but the old vet's pet phrase has been "Milu shaped me."
"I used to be an ordinary vet in the countryside. Now I am the
visiting professor of Zhejiang University thanks to milu," he said
slowly in strong accent. As he talks, he spends most of the time
fiddling with something near his hands. The 53-year-old expert who
has helped save an once endangered species is still shy. Only when
speaking of his beloved milu, would he speed up his speech and
sparkles would appear in his eyes.
As the reserve's vice director, Ding has to handle many tasks,
such as building a restaurant in the reserve to host the increasing
number of visitors and applying to government departments for
salary increases for his employees.
His hair is turning grey, his complexion is a mix of dark and
red due to too much suntan. Yet his eyes remind people of those of
the deer - mild, moist and loving.
"I often ask myself: Why I am here? Who does not like an easy
life with high income? But I am a person who never stops in the
half way. Since I have started, I would not give up before I see
milu thrive here."
(China Daily May 23, 2007)
