3 years in the lives of 3 rescued baby manatees

The orphans were found in Florida, fattened up in Ohio(!), and sent back south for release.

The orphans, three baby females, arrived one after the other at ZooTampa’s manatee hospital. The first had been found swimming alone in shallow waters, her umbilical cord still attached. Two months later, another was rescued from a canal. Then came the smallest they ever had received: Manatees typically should weigh about 65 pounds at birth, but this one was only 44 pounds.

They were named Calliope, Soleil and Piccolina.

It was 2021, a bad year for Florida manatees. On the state’s east coast, decades of sewage and fertilizer pollution had led to a mass die-off of seagrass, which the animals rely on for food. Wildlife officials tallied hundreds of emaciated corpses. Elsewhere, other threats continued, such as collisions with boats and poisoning from red tide, a toxic algae.

No one knows what happened to the mothers of the three babies, who were rescued on Florida’s west coast. Normally, a calf stays with its mother for up to two years, swimming right behind one of her flippers as it learns where to find both food and the warm-water areas it will need to survive cold spells.

“Obviously, some sort of trauma happened,” said Molly Lippincott, who manages Florida species at ZooTampa.

And so Calliope, Soleil and Piccolina joined the scores of manatees each year who get personalized interventions akin to ambulance rides, intensive care units and long-term rehab. Some even fly on airplanes before they’re released back in the wild.

Manatees were among the first animals listed on the Endangered Species Act in 1973, when their population was estimated at 1,000. Now they’ve come to exemplify both the power of conservation and how tenuous its successes can feel. The most recent population estimate, for 202122, is about 10,000. Researchers largely attribute the increase to habitat protection and speed restrictions for boats. In 2017, the federal government downlisted Florida manatees from endangered to threatened. But new threats loom. Climate change and Florida’s growing population are expected to create the conditions for an increase in harmful algal blooms, said a report commissioned by the state. Red tide can kill manatees directly, while other kinds of algal blooms can choke off the seagrass they need to survive.

From Florida to Ohio: A temporary home

During their year-plus at ZooTampa, the three babies gained weight well. By November 2022, Piccolina was 375 pounds, Calliope was over 400 and Soleil came in at 475.

But manatees aren’t released into the wild until they hit at least 600 pounds, a size thought to give them some padding, as it were, as they learn to fend for themselves. They put on about a pound a day, so gaining that much weight takes time. To free up critical-care pool space, manatees are sent to yet another temporary home.

For Calliope, Soleil and Piccolina, that meant traveling almost 1,000 miles, to the Cincinnati Zoo.

The zoo, one of three facilities outside Florida that can take in manatees that need to get bigger, is part of a consortium of more than 20 agencies and organizations that collaborate on manatee rescue and rehabilitation.

In Ohio, Calliope, Soleil and Piccolina dined on romaine, endive, kale, escarole, green leaf lettuce, napa cabbage and bok choy. They often gobbled the greens from containers on the bottom of the tank arranged to imitate seagrasses.

Calliope was curious, smart and a bit of a troublemaker.

“She wants to be in all the business that’s going on in the tank,” said one of her Cincinnati keepers, Remy Romaine.

“Has to be in the know,” said another, Tara Lay. “Very involved. No personal space.”

Soleil, in turn, seemed sweet and easygoing, more than happy to oblige her keepers’ requests, especially if there was food involved. “Our big chunk-amunk,” Lay called her.

Piccolina, nicknamed Pickles, seemed a little shy and stayed close to her adopted sisters. Although manatees are considered only semi-social, the three appeared to take comfort in one another.

Back to Florida, packed up as precious cargo

Eleven months flew by. Last fall, it was time for them to return to Florida. Only now, they were about twice as heavy.

To move a manatee, you have to start by getting it out of the water. In Cincinnati, that meant draining a medical pool.

Zoo workers used thick straps to physically shift each manatee onto a tarp-like stretcher with poles that, when suspended, creates a hammock of sorts. A winch lifts the manatee into a custom-built container that’s bedded with 8 inches of foam.

The animals weren’t sedated because that could conceal a medical emergency or compromise their ability to breathe.

It’s unclear how stressed manatees get by being lifted through the air in a hammock or placed in a strange, waterless container. But they seem to tolerate such moves well, experts say, and look surprisingly calm throughout the ordeal.

Off to the airport

DHL, a global shipping company, is not in the business of moving animals. But it makes some exceptions to help with conservation efforts, and it has become a go-to courier for flying manatees.

Location is a big reason. The company’s national hub is about 30 minutes from the Cincinnati Zoo and a couple of hours from the Columbus Zoo, which also rehabilitates manatees.

“You’re part of something different, right?” said Joe Collopy, a senior director at DHL who oversees the animal moves. “The goal is every one of them getting back to where they were. And that makes it special.”

This flight carried the most manatees that DHL ever had flown at one time: not only Calliope, Soleil and Piccolina, but five others from the Columbus Zoo.

Finally, back to nature

ZooTampa’s Lippincott said she takes comfort in knowing she is one part of a bigger collective trying to help manatees, with many partners focusing on root causes. And given that the animals can live into their 60s, a year or two of rehabilitation is more than worth it, she said.

It was a fitting place for the release: Three Sisters Springs in Crystal River, about 80 miles north of Tampa.

Calliope went first. A team carried her into the water on one of the tarplike stretchers. She slid in on her back before slowly swimming away.

“Bye, Calliope!” called Lay, who had traveled from Cincinnati to witness the release. “I love you! Please be good.”

The tracking device floated behind Calliope, making her seem like the nerdy new kid as she joined the dozens of wild manatees lolling in the warm natural spring.

She swam around the entire perimeter, curious as always.

An hour later, it was Soleil’s turn. The next day, Piccolina’s.

They found one another and gathered for a moment, away from the other manatees. Then they floated apart.

PHOTOS BY JASON GULLEY/THE NEW YORK TIMES A trio of manatees swims through the Cincinnati Zoo’s Manatee Springs exhibit in September. They were found orphaned on Florida’s Gulf Coast in 2021, spent about a year in Ohio to gain weight, then sent back to Florida and released in the wild last month.

A manatee rehabilitated at the Columbus Zoo is loaded into a DHL plane at the shipping company’s hub in Hebron, Ky., in September. DHL’s crew has experience in the task, thanks to its proximity to the Columbus and Cincinnati zoos, which play leading roles in helping rehabilitate manatees. Hebron is about 20 miles from Cincinnati, 120 from Columbus.

Calliope (with tracking device on tail), who was found orphaned in 2021, mingles with other manatees after being released back into the wild at Three Sisters Springs, in the Crystal River National Wildlife Refuge in Florida, on Feb. 13.

Soleil, found orphaned in 2021, is weighed one final time at ZooTampa in February before being released back into the wild near Crystal River, about 90 miles north of Tampa. Soleil, whose new home will be the Gulf of Mexico, is one of about 10,000 manatees in the world.

Workers use padded mats to prevent a manatee from thrashing about during a medical procedure at ZooTampa’s care center in January. More than 100 injured manatees are rescued annually, far fewer than need help. But acute care spaces are expanding.