Abstract
- Top of page
- Abstract
- Introduction
- Methods
- Results
- Discussion
- Acknowledgements
- References
The ecological impact of an invasive species can be heterogeneous through space and time. One such case in Australia involves native freshwater crocodiles Crocodylus johnstoni, which are highly sensitive to invasive cane toads Rhinella marina in some areas, whereas other populations experience little or no mortality from ingestion of the toxic toads. We studied the impact of toad invasion on three crocodile populations: one crashed, one showed a minor decrease and one appeared unaffected. We tested three hypotheses for the cause of this spatial variation in impact: differences among populations in toad–crocodile encounter rates (proximity of toads to crocodiles during spotlight surveys), differences in crocodile feeding responses (trials of prey preference in the laboratory) and differences in crocodile physiology (reduction of swim speed after receiving a dose of toad toxin). We found little divergence among populations in any of these traits: crocodiles from the three populations all encountered cane toads in the wild, and exhibited similar feeding responses and toxin tolerances. Thus, we cannot confidently identify causation for the impact heterogeneity. Reliance on alternative food resources and an ability to rapidly learn taste aversion may have allowed crocodiles to deal with toad arrival in Lake Argyle and the Daly River. Future work could usefully evaluate potential explanations for the failure of these adaptive mechanisms in the severely affected (Victoria River) population. We suggest that spatial variation in the availability of alternative prey (and thus the willingness of crocodiles to attack a novel toxic prey item) may have contributed to that variation in impact.
Introduction
- Top of page
- Abstract
- Introduction
- Methods
- Results
- Discussion
- Acknowledgements
- References
Biological invasions provide excellent opportunities to understand the ways in which species deal with novel challenges. Even when the nature of the invasion is well understood, however, the impacts of invaders on native ecosystems may be difficult to predict because of substantial spatial and temporal heterogeneity, and the potential for complex indirect effects. For example, invader impacts can vary temporally or spatially due to variation in climate, habitat structure (Melbourne et al., 2007; Rayner, Hauber & Imber, 2007), the composition of local ecological assemblages (Roemer, Donlan & Courchamp, 2002; Rayner et al., 2007; Letnic et al., 2009), and physiological and behavioural traits of the native fauna (Phillips & Shine, 2006).
The invasion of the cane toad Rhinella marina in Australia provides an excellent opportunity to investigate how native species adapt to an alien invader. The cane toad was introduced to north-eastern Australia in 1935 and has since spread through more than a million square kilometres of northern Australia (Urban et al., 2007). Cane toads contain highly toxic bufadienalides, which differ greatly from the toxins found in native Australian frogs (Daly & Witkop, 1971). Direct poisoning of predators is the major mechanism by which cane toads impact the Australian native fauna (Shine, 2010). Many Australian reptilian and mammalian predators lack physiological resistance to toad toxins and die after ingesting or attacking toads (Covacevich & Archer, 1975; Webb, Shine & Christian, 2005; Smith & Phillips, 2006). The level of impact on different groups of animals varies from high and consistent (e.g. Northern quolls, Oakwood, 2003; O'Donnell, 2009), to minimal (e.g. birds, Beckmann & Shine, 2009), possibly reflecting evolved resistance to bufotoxins in groups that have coevolved with Asian bufonid anurans (Letnic, Webb & Shine, 2008; Llewelyn et al., 2010).
Freshwater crocodiles Crocodylus johnstoni are highly susceptible to mortality after ingesting cane toads. Laboratory studies have documented low physiological resistance to cane toad toxins (Smith & Phillips, 2006), and more than 60% of C. johnstoni found dead in the Victoria River in the Northern Territory from 2007 to 2010 contained cane toads in their stomach (n = 80: Letnic et al. unpubl. data). Despite this apparent susceptibility, population-level responses of C. johnstoni to the cane toad invasion across their range in northern Australia vary enormously, from substantial population declines in some areas (77% reduction over a year in some sites, Victoria River, Northern Territory, Letnic et al., 2008; mass mortality, Boodjamulla National Park, north-western Queensland, Whitehead et al., 2008), moderate in some (∼30% decline during the first year, Katherine River, Northern Territory, C. Manolis, pers. comm.), to little or no measurable impact in other areas (Roper and MacArthur Rivers, Catling et al., 1999; Daly River Catchment, Freeland, 2004; Daly River, Doody et al., 2009; Lake Argyle, Somaweera & Shine, 2012).
The mechanisms behind this spatial variability in the response of C. johnstoni populations to the cane toad invasion might reflect features of the toads, of the ecological context in which they interact with crocodiles, or of the crocodiles themselves. The first of these possibilities (differences in toad toxicity) is unlikely because the high mobility of these invaders reduces the possibility of substantial genetic differences among populations (Estoup et al., 2004). The second possibility (environmental effects) could operate via differences in the rate of encounters between C. johnstoni and cane toads in different environments. The third possibility (spatial differences in crocodile vulnerability) might be due either to variation in the prey preferences of C. johnstoni or their toxin resistance, or a combination of both these factors. These mechanisms are not mutually exclusive, and any of them might be enough to allow a crocodile population to persist with toads. Therefore, we tested these possible causes of heterogeneity in the impact of cane toads on C. johnstoni using crocodiles sourced from three geographically discrete areas where cane toads have been documented to have no impact, low impact and high impact on crocodile populations.
Discussion
- Top of page
- Abstract
- Introduction
- Methods
- Results
- Discussion
- Acknowledgements
- References
Our data show significant spatial heterogeneity in the impact of invasive cane toads on populations of freshwater crocodiles, but the causal basis for that variation remains elusive. The impact of toad invasion on freshwater crocodiles was severe at the Victoria River but not at the nearby Daly River, as previously reported by Letnic et al. (2008) and Doody et al. (2009). Letnic et al. (2008) suggested that differences in aridity of the riparian habitat could explain the impact differential: in the more arid Victoria River site, the need for frequent rehydration in the river in an otherwise arid landscape (Florance et al., 2011) would increase the rate at which cane toads would encounter crocodiles. Our data support one assumption of this hypothesis in that encounters between toads and crocodiles were about twice as common in the Victoria River than the Daly River (Fig. 4). However, high-encounter rates were observed also in the mosaic riparian habitats at Lake Argyle (Fig. 4). Moreover, the proportional difference in encounter rates between sites was much less than the proportional difference in the density reduction of crocodiles (Fig. 3). Thus, we doubt that aridity-driven differences in encounter rates between cane toads and crocodiles can explain the much higher mortality rates of this native predator at some sites than at others.
How reliable is the inference of a difference in magnitude of toad impact on crocodiles in these three areas? One potential weakness involves methodology: although we used the same methods (spotlight surveys) to estimate crocodile densities before versus after toad arrival, different observers were involved in the pre-toad versus post-toad surveys of the Daly River sections. Although inter-observer differences in counts made by reliable spotters are trivial, estimates of crocodile sizes can be significant in such surveys (Webb et al., 1989), potentially weakening the comparison. However, the modest response of crocodile populations to the arrival of cane toads observed both in this study and by Doody et al. (2009), in combination with the scarcity of direct observations of crocodile mortality (this study; Doody et al., 2009; WMI Pty Ltd, 2009, 2010; Somaweera & Shine, 2012), strongly suggest that cane toads have had much less impact on C. johnstoni populations either at Lake Argyle or on the Daly River, than has been the case on the Victoria River. This is true even though counts in a lake (where some crocodiles may be inaccessible to observers) may entail different constraints than counts in a river (where most or all crocodiles are observable). Below, we review potential explanations for this spatial heterogeneity in impact.
Hypothesis 1: Encounter rates between crocodiles and cane toads differ among populations
Our ‘encounter rate’ data show that crocodiles in all three water bodies encountered cane toads. However, to directly address interaction rates between the two species, we would need extensive behavioural and ecological data that are difficult to gather in a system such as ours (Wootton, 1997; Wootton & Emmerson, 2005). Relationships between prey density and prey encounter rate can be nonlinear (Mols et al., 2004; Travis & Pal, 2005), and a predator may be more likely to attack novel (unfamiliar) prey when prey densities are low (Ioannou, Ruxton & Krause, 2008). We have observed crocodiles holding cane toads in their mouths, in all three water bodies. On most occasions, the crocodile eventually swallowed the toad, but in some cases the toad was released (possibly due to our presence). However, due to logistic difficulties in continuously monitoring these crocodiles, the end result of these encounters are not known. Other data confirm that cane toads are eaten by freshwater crocodiles (Tucker et al., 1996). Four of 60 stomach content samples collected from live crocodiles (snout–vent lengths 396–740 mm) from Carl Bay in Lake Argyle contained cane toads (Somaweera, unpubl. data), as did one of 34 yearling crocodiles (181–205 mm) from northern Lake Argyle (Somaweera et al., 2011). None of these five crocodiles showed signs of illness. Freeland (2004) reported that freshwater crocodiles force-fed an adult cane toad died on average 1.5 h later, but it is difficult to relate this to natural behaviour. In summary, our data show spatial heterogeneity in encounter rates between cane toads and freshwater crocodiles, but suggest that such heterogeneity may not be great enough to explain the major divergence in crocodile mortality rates among sites following toad invasion.
Hypothesis 2: Prey preferences of crocodiles differ among populations
Our laboratory trials showed that crocodiles from low-impact populations were just as willing to attack and consume cane toads as were conspecifics from high-impact populations. However, toad-naïve crocodiles were more likely to attack cane toads than were crocodiles captured in the wild from toad-invaded areas (i.e. that likely had had opportunities to encounter toads). Some other Australian predators have an intrinsic preference for native frogs over cane toads (e.g. Llewelyn et al., 2010), or rapidly learn taste aversion when they encounter toads (Webb et al., 2008; Greenlees, Phillips & Shine, 2010). In at least one species (the red-bellied black snake Pseudechis porphyriacus), snakes from toad-infested areas have evolved not to consume toads (Phillips & Shine, 2006). However, the timescale of that adaptive response involves decades, whereas the crocodile populations that we studied have been exposed to cane toads for a few years at most.
Thus, aversion learning seems more likely than genetically based adaptation as a proximate cause for a refusal by field-collected crocodiles to consume toads. In support of this interpretation, hatchling freshwater crocodiles from toad-free areas learn to avoid cane toads as prey after one or two encounters in captivity (Somaweera et al., 2011). Compared with toad-naïve conspecifics, ‘toad-smart’ crocodiles inflicted fewer bites on toads, held toads in their mouths for shorter time periods and were more likely to reject toads as prey in subsequent encounters. Although frogs and toads were seen in approximately equal numbers in the field, crocodiles consumed frogs more often than toads (Somaweera et al., 2011). In summary, our data do not support the idea of pre-existing spatial heterogeneity in crocodile feeding responses to cane toads; instead, our results suggest, at least under captive conditions, that freshwater crocodiles from all populations will readily seize toads but soon learn to avoid them.
Hypothesis 3: Toxin resistance of crocodiles differs among populations
It is difficult to derive an a priori prediction about expected divergences in toad-toxin tolerance between impacted and non-impacted crocodile populations. On one hand, we might expect more sensitive animals to be more easily killed by ingesting toads (i.e. high-impact populations should exhibit greater sensitivity to toad toxins), but on the other hand, adaptive change [as in Phillips & Shine's (2006) black snakes] might rapidly reverse this situation, such that impacted populations rapidly evolve higher toxin resistance because of differential mortality of the most vulnerable animals. Our data did not support either of these scenarios; instead, physiological resistance to toad toxins was similar among the three crocodile populations we studied, and we found no evidence of physiological acclimation of Bufalin resistance. We also noticed an increase in the swim speed of the control animals, possibly due to alcohol that was used as the solvent. This dose of alcohol used, however, did not affect the locomotor speed of snakes in a previous study (Phillips et al., 2010).
Future work could usefully examine toad-toxin tolerance in freshwater crocodiles from across a wider range of localities, encompassing areas where toads arrived decades ago. If adaptive shifts have occurred in toxin tolerance, such shifts should be evident at that larger spatial and temporal scale. Given a generational turnover period of c. 50 years (Smith & Webb, 1985), however, the 75-year period of toad occupancy in Australia may have been too brief for such adaptive changes to occur in crocodiles. In summary, we found no evidence of differential toxin resistance in crocodiles from our three study populations.
Overview and future research
Our field data on crocodile abundance confirm earlier reports of substantial spatial heterogeneity in the magnitude of cane toad impact on freshwater crocodile populations, but none of the three hypotheses we erected to explain that heterogeneity were supported by our data. Crocodiles from the three populations all encounter cane toads in the wild, and exhibit similar feeding responses and toxin tolerances. Why, then, did the Victoria River population crash following toad arrival, whereas the other two populations did not? We cannot answer this question but can point to some possibilities. Most obviously, the availability of alternative prey to crocodiles likely differs among the Daly River, Victoria River and Lake Argyle study sites, potentially influencing predator vulnerability during the toad invasion (Webb et al., 2005). Lakes often contain more food (especially fish) than tropical rivers (Da Silveira & Magnusson, 1999), and fish are the main prey of adult C. johnstoni (Webb, Manolis & Buckworth, 1982; Tucker et al., 1996). Both freshwater and saltwater crocodiles attacked cane toads readily after lengthy periods without feeding, but refused them when fully fed (Covacevich & Archer, 1975; Freeland, 2004). Spatial and temporal variation in the abundance of alternative prey (and thus the willingness of crocodiles to attack a novel prey type like the cane toad) might explain at least part of the spatial variation in the magnitude of toad impact. More detailed studies on the rates of encounter between cane toads and crocodiles, and the factors influencing these encounters, may help resolve this continuing puzzle.
Acknowledgements
- Top of page
- Abstract
- Introduction
- Methods
- Results
- Discussion
- Acknowledgements
- References
We thank the Parks and Wildlife Service of the NT, the WA Dept. of Environment and Conservation, Bill Stewart, Bluey and Janelle Pugh, and all volunteers for fieldwork assistance. We are grateful to Nilusha Somaweera and Michelle Franklin for laboratory work, and Charlie Sharpe and Kim Hands for logistical support. Charlie Manolis and Grahame Webb from Wildlife Management International provided facilities for housing hatchlings prior to trials at Crocodylus Park. This work was supported by the Australian Research Council (R. Shine, M.L.), Hermon Slade Foundation (M.L. and T.D.), IUCN-SSC Crocodile Specialist Group (R. Somaweera), University of Sydney PRSS (R. Somaweera) and the Wildlife Preservation Society of Australia Ltd (R. Somaweera).