Writing about tapirs means traveling through time, journeying far back into the natural history of the planet by observing an animal that still walks freely today in some tropical rainforests. Stanley Kubrick was right in 1968 with his iconic film 2001: A Space Odyssey, where in the opening sequence depicting the dawn of the human species in Africa, several tapirs share the scene with many apes. It couldn’t have been any other animal—tapirs had to be the ones to speak to us about the prehistoric past that still lives on this planet. But he was mistaken, because tapirs never inhabited Africa.These large animals originated from their earliest ancestor in North America around 50 million years ago, evolving into the form we recognize today. 

Paleontological evidence shows that at least five species of tapirs once existed across what is now southern Canada and the United States. The California tapir (Tapirus californicus, Merriam 1912) coexisted with humans around 13,000 years ago in North America. It is possible that hunting by these early settlers contributed to the tapir’s extinction. However, by that time, tapirs had already left North America millions of years earlier and expanded into new territories whenever the climate allowed it—first into Asia by crossing Beringia, and later into South America after the formation of the Isthmus of Panama.Tapirs, rhinoceroses, and equines (horses, donkeys, and zebras) all belong to the same group of hoofed mammals known as perissodactyls, or odd-toed ungulates (three toes for tapirs and rhinos, one for equines). Today, only four species of tapirs have survived in the world.

Due to its geographical location, Colombia is the only country that harbors all three tapir species found in the Americas. These prehistoric mammals play a vital role in the rainforest. As herbivores of considerable size, they are key seed dispersers, but in some contexts, they can also act as seed predators due to their strong dentition and the large volume of plant matter they consume daily. These traits have earned them the nickname gardeners of the forest. Because of their size and the habit of maintaining a defined home range, tapirs create trails in the forest through their repeated passage—especially en route to water sources and mineral licks, which are areas of bare ground where they consume essential minerals. This behavior is particularly common in the Amazon rainforest and in the Andean mountains near mineral-rich springs. Tapirs defecate and urinate in streams but also create latrines—designated spots where they consistently defecate—likely as a way to mark territory.

Tapirs are monogamous, with the female being larger than the male. They prefer to mate in water. Gestation lasts over a year—between 13 and 14 months—and they give birth to a single calf, with intervals of two to three years between births. These reproductive traits mean that the loss of a single tapir to hunting has a significant impact on the population due to its slow recovery rate.

Though generally gentle herbivores, tapirs possess sharp canine teeth in both the upper and lower jaws. They use these effectively to strip bark from trees and to defend themselves and their young from predators such as pumas and jaguars. However, in the tropical forests of the Americas, tapirs also share their habitat with a lesser-known predator: the bush dog (Speothos venaticus), a pack-hunting canid that may prey on unprotected calves. Female tapirs often hide their calves in dense vegetation while they forage—this behavior highlights the need for healthy, intact forest ecosystems to ensure successful reproduction. When these forests are destroyed, tapirs are unable to reproduce. Their vocalization is a whistling sound that can easily be mistaken for a birdcall.

Top: Skull, teeth of tapirs, and the marks left by their canines, when stripping bark from a tree to feed.

Middle: A pair of tapirs engaging in pre-mating behavior in the water.

Bottom: Trails created by tapirs as they move through the forest.

These rock art photographs, the one at the top, was a gift from Colombian archaeologist Carlos Castaño Uribe, taken deep within Chiribiquete National Natural Park, located between the departments of Caquetá and Guaviare, Colombia. The second photo was taken at Cerro Azul, a site that is now publicly accessible, in the Serranía La Lindosa in the Department of Guaviare. In both images, the prominence of tapirs in the worldview of ancient humans is evident, as they are consistently placed in the uppermost and most prominent position within the mural compositions.

The second image shows two tapirs facing each other, but with different head and ear positions, suggesting that they are communicating. Although the paintings were created using red ochre, the estimated age has been determined through radiocarbon dating (C14) of organic materials associated with the paintings—materials found in the human occupation layers at the base of the murals. The results indicate an age of approximately 12,000 years. These studies were conducted by Carlos Castaño Uribe and Thomas van der Hammen between 1990 and 1992.

In Colombia, tapirs are commonly known as “dantas.” However, among Indigenous communities, there is a rich diversity of names for this animal. For example, in the Amazon region, the Ticuna community calls it Kinú, the Uitoto call it ñumi, the Bora say niná, the Ruináname call it niíña, the Yucuna say nina, and the Makuna refer to it as sába. In the Orinoco region, the Sikuani or Guahibo people call it dawi, while the Cubeos say juná. In the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, the Arhuacos call it wariwary, and the Kogi or Kággaba call it Bitcha.

This diversity of names reflects the deep cultural significance that tapirs hold for Indigenous peoples—far beyond the value typically recognized by modern Western society. Much remains to be learned about their traditional roles, such as their domestication and use as working animals. This aspect has been especially meaningful in my own research on tapirs. It is well known today that tapirs can be quite docile and capable of forming close relationships with humans—far more than simply being a source of protein. It is also understood that, during hunting expeditions, Indigenous people might occasionally kill a lactating mother. In such cases, the orphaned calf would not be harmed but instead taken home by the hunters, becoming a kind of pet. This bond often developed into a relationship where the young tapir would later be used as a pack animal.

The photograph above shows another orphaned mountain or páramo tapir, this time from the municipality of Pitalito, in the Department of Huila. It was raised entirely in captivity, and as an adult, its docile nature revealed its potential as a pack animal—suggesting that this may have been a traditional role for tapirs in the past, before the arrival of the Spanish during the conquest.

The photo on the side is the first ever camera trap image of a free Tapirus pinchaque—the mountain or páramo tapir—captured in the cloud forests of the Colombian Massif, in the municipality of San Agustín, Department of Huila, Colombia. We can observe that its right ear is injured; we later learned that this type of wound is caused by attacks from the spectacled bear, which is known to prey on tapirs. This species of tapir, or “danta,” was first identified by scientist south of Bogotá, Colombia, by the French naturalist François Désiré Roulin in 1829, in the Sumapaz Páramo. Today, this species is found in three countries: Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru. It is one of the rarest surviving mammal species in the world, inhabiting cold mountain ecosystems such as cloud forests and páramos, at elevations ranging from 1,800 to 4,300 meters above sea level. In the year 2000, the first studies of this species began, aiming to understand its home range through the use of a satellite telemetry collar. This research showed that the animal used an area between 3 and 15 km² over a six-month period.

These photographs correspond to the first study conducted in Colombia on this species, a research project led by Lizcano & Cavelier. In the image are Brazilian veterinarian Paulo Rogério Mangini, veterinary tennis player Franz K. Flórez, along with local farmers Leonel Moya and Arnobis García, and the mountain tapirs (dantas de páramo) from the Otún River basin in the department of Risaralda, Colombia. Today, this population of tapirs is facing the greatest threat of extinction due to Cochliomyia hominivorax, a species of fly associated with cattle. This fly has recently reached the high-altitude habitats where the mountain tapir lives, likely due to the increasing presence of cattle in these highland ecosystems and the effects of climate change. So far, it has caused the death of more than 10 individuals of this tapir species, as any skin wound becomes a site where the fly lays its eggs. When the larvae hatch, they feed on the tapir’s living tissue, leading to a slow and painful death for these incredible and beautiful animals.

Molecular studies conducted in 2024 by Manuel Ruiz-García and collaborators showed that this tapir, or danta, is the youngest of the four tapir species in the world and is a sister species to the lowland tapir (Tapirus terrestris). It evolved in the Andes of South America, and Colombia is home to 80% of the global population of this species. This territorial restriction means that the current crisis caused by deaths from the fly represents the highest risk of extinction for the species. The extinction alarm is sounding — many of us are concerned, but the problem continues to grow, demanding that society unite around the cause of preventing the extinction of the mountain tapir.

The solution likely involves beginning to reduce the number of cattle living within the tapir’s habitat, promoting alternative production models for the campesino and Indigenous communities who share this territory, and ensuring the protection of remaining individuals in areas of their ecosystem that are still free of extensive cattle ranching. Additionally, an intensive monitoring system must be established to track the last wild mountain tapirs in Colombia, assessing their population status and overall health.

Finally, I would like to share the work we have carried out through the Nativa Foundation (www.nativa.org) for the last remaining tapirs (dantas) of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta over the past 20 years. In the year 2000, a settler farmer named Carlos Fernández Rueda, known as “Cayito,” encountered a pair of lowland tapirs (Tapirus terrestris colombianus, Hershkovitz 1954) in the forests of the Naranjal River basin, in the municipality of Dibulla, La Guajira, Colombia. After four years of phone conversations, I visited him, and together we began actions to prevent the extinction of this species in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, in the midst of the violence unleashed by drug trafficking and the political war among guerrilla groups, paramilitaries, and the national government. The first thing we did was carry out a field reconnaissance to confirm, through our own means, the presence of this species, since no scientist had reported that this tapir still existed after it was first documented in the Sierra by American mammalogist Philip Hershkovitz in 1954. It was believed that subsistence hunting by settlers and Indigenous communities, the expansion of cattle ranching, the intensive cultivation of coca and marijuana, the construction of new roads—which permanently fragmented the last tropical rainforests of the Sierra—and the ongoing war had wiped them out. In fact, some scientific texts on Colombian mammals stated that tapirs no longer existed in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta.

During our first expedition into the territory settled by “Cayito,” who was growing two hectares of Arabica coffee in the middle of the forest, we found fresh tapir tracks and some bones donated to us by a local hunter named Buenaga. We no longer had any doubt: the tapir of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta was still alive. Our base was always in a seaside town called Palomino, where “Cayito” lived. However, the town was controlled by paramilitary forces and had such a reputation for danger that no one dared to visit. Yet, in the midst of all this pressure, we began this story of defending the last remaining tapirs of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta. No one believed in the existence of this large animal, so we made a documentary that captured the evidence: tracks, footprints, and interviews with the settlers who dared to live in the jungle growing coca. At that time, there were no Indigenous communities living in that territory.

With the confirmed presence of the species, we began seeking support from government entities—but they didn’t believe us. At the same time, it was difficult to imagine starting a conservation project in forests where a permanent war was unfolding, due to the many risks involved. But for us, the very existence of such a wonderful animal filled us with excitement and gave us the motivation to fully dedicate ourselves to preventing its disappearance from the Sierra Nevada.

Several months passed in which armed clashes prevented us from returning to the forest. We would always wait for the brief calm that followed a confrontation—after the gunfire and its consequences, the territory would quiet down somewhat, and we would return to continue exploring more of the jungle. Of course, encounters with guerrilla fighters or paramilitaries were always our greatest fear, but since Cayito was a local, we were often able to speak with them, and nothing ever happened to us. This campesino became known in the region for being a defender of nature amid war, and I, his companion from the interior of the country—a “cachaco,” as Colombians from the highlands are called—stood by his side.

When we went out into the forest, encounters with snakes were very common. I enjoyed catching them and carrying them to photograph them. So, whenever we were stopped by guerrilla fighters, the army, or paramilitaries in the jungle, I would pull out a snake I carried in a cloth bag. That always ended the questioning and eased the tension—they would let us go on our way without further trouble. After several months, I met a Mexican biologist in Bogotá named Alberto Botello, and he promised that if I invited him to the Sierra, he would bring camera traps to try and take the first photograph of this tapir species in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta. And so it was: a friend from the United States, Sheryl Todd of the Tapir Preservation Fund, supported the visit of this Mexican specialist. He brought with him the first camera traps—analog ones, using film—donated by the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM). Together with two local hunters invited by Cayito, named Chapolo and Willian, we ventured deep into the forest to install three camera traps. Then, on December 21, 2005, we succeeded in taking the first two photographs of the tapir of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta—proof for everyone that these tapirs have endured everything and are still here…

We took many photographs, to the point that we felt the need to organize an event that would allow us to share this work we were doing amid the war. This was an opportunity for the farming and indigenous communities to discover this world through images and to momentarily set aside thoughts of the armed conflict. We organized the first tapir photography festival in the central park of Palomino, allowing the entire community to feel the project and encouraging the actors of the war to continue granting us permission to enter these jungles, as it was prohibited, and those who dared to do so did it at their own risk.

The tapir project was successfully introduced, and we achieved our first objective, which was to awaken admiration and respect for the existing biodiversity, leading to the first-ever ban on tapir hunting. We also managed to collaboratively write our first scientific article on the historical and current distribution of tapirs in the Municipality of Dibulla – La Guajira – Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta. What followed was the need to understand the area where the tapir lived through the installation of satellite telemetry on a tapir, similar to what we had helped do years earlier with the Páramo tapir. However, this time we had to do it ourselves, using this information in conjunction with what we learned from the camera trap photos to begin inferring how many tapirs remained in the Sierra Nevada, which was the most sought-after information to attract the attention of environmental authorities at that time. The work team now consisted of farmers, Afro-Colombians, Wiwa and Arhuaco indigenous people, Kogi, and for the first tapir, there were two veterinarians: Luz Agueda Bernal and myself, all Colombians, with support from the local government environmental entity named Corpoguajira. We achieved our goal of installing the first satellite telemetry collar on a tapir in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, with the scientific aim of beginning to understand its behavior as the first step to better understand the species and know how to prevent its extinction. With this capture, we demonstrated to ourselves the ability to conduct scientific studies through the skills and cooperation of all social components of the territory, and we definitely succeeded in making society in general understand what the presence of these species means and the need to promote respect for their existence and that it represents the well-being of the ecosystem of which we are all a part. 

The satellite collar worked very well, and we managed to create a map of this individual’s movements during the three months the collar’s battery lasted and to publish the scientific results. Subsequently, the team was consolidated, and we continued capturing tapirs from the Sierra, mainly to conduct genetic studies of this population with Professor Manuel Ruiz-Garcia from Javeriana University, and with more information, to define their life expectancy.

With the blood samples obtained from the four tapirs we have been able to tranquilize and then release back into the forest, we have contributed to in-depth studies of the genus Tapirus in Colombia and South America, particularly in genetic aspects. What has been done is not enough; the territory continues to face threats and actions that severely affect the tapirs, such as hunting, the expansion of extensive cattle ranching, and the destruction of the last forests. This tapir population is isolated and has no connection with any other population, which favors inbreeding and thus genetic deterioration that threatens its long-term viability as a population. What we believe is necessary now is to maintain monitoring of the remaining individuals to allow the construction of a census through new modern methodologies, to know exactly how many tapirs exist in the Sierra.

Additionally, a situ breeding program needs to be initiated. This will bring members from other populations outside the Sierra Nevada of same species to enrich the genetic pool of the new individuals. In turn, this will reintroduce tapirs into some National Natural Parks where there is no cattle ranching, such as Tayrona National Natural Park, thereby expanding the species’ viability prospects in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta. 

Arhuaco Felix y el Tapir N° 2

 In this way, the tapir conservation project in the Sierra took on a new ethnological dimension. It sparked in me a growing interest in discovering this way of understanding life and death, trying to answer questions that would help me understand how they live without accumulating possessions, without electricity, and without many other things we need, yet still find the existential comfort we all seek. Continuing the tapir research, now with the Kogi, we captured another tapir in the jungle as part of the genetic studies, and we tested radio telemetry as a more cost-effective method to monitor the last tapirs. 

In the end, what remains from all this work are seven scientific articles, friendships with farmers and indigenous people, and memories of this pristine jungle world with tapirs—understanding that the investment of my lifetime following tapirs has been a step towards coherence that has made me happier.

I would like to conclude by saying that tapirs will continue to live on this planet as long as Indigenous cultures continue to exist, to resist, and to know how to change in order to remain the same.

By: Franz K. Florez