How long do animals live in the Wild? Northern Woodlands contributor Kenrick Vezina penned an interesting article on that sublject that was published this week: "If you're a wild animal, you're almost always killed by something other than the slow, peaceful death-in-sleep we all hope for".... "Be it bus or bear, weather or wolf, rabies or red-tailed hawk, something comes along and picks you off before you have the chance to live out your golden years in a cozy den"..... "Odds are, you don't even see the first gray hairs in your pelt before death sweeps you away"........"There are trends in longevity as well".... "The clearest is this: the larger an organism is, the longer it tends to live"..... "The lowly common vole, even in the comforts of captivity, won't make it much past three years".... "Captive red foxes have seen 21 years; captive black bears have made it to 34"..... "This large-small divide often mirrors predator-prey relationships"..... "A mature cougar, a whopping 138 pounds on average, can live to be 18 years in the wild"..... "On the other end of the food chain, eastern cottontails, a wimpy 2.75 pounds, max out at five years and average only 15 months"..............."And, of course, some species buck the trends"..... "Snapping turtles, the largest turtles in New England, have lived to be 47 years old"..... "Painted turtles weigh less than a tenth as much as an average snapper, yet at least one has been recorded as living to the ripe old age of 61"...... "Captive bobcats have lived to 32 years, while the oldest captive cougar has only seen 23 years, 8 months"

Life in the Wild: Live Hard, Die Young

by Kenrick Vezina Northern Woodlands Magazine

Illustration by Adelaide Tyrol

Have you noticed a few more wisps of gray of late? An ache in your joints? Crow's feet clawing around the corners of your eyes? If so, you're well on your way to becoming a victim of one of the leading causes of death in the world today: aging. Known to biologists as "senescence," it's the systemic degradation of an organism's bodily functions until, at long last, something vital (a liver, a lung) gives and the whole system goes toes-up.

While this thought can be unsettling, there is some solace in the fact that, from a zoological perspective, dying from old age is a luxury. After all, animals in the wild almost never make it that far. (When was the last time you saw an elderly raccoon hobbling around your garbage cans, gumming at your refuse and cursing the young whippersnapper raccoons?)

Fact is, raccoons seldom make it past five years in the wild. That's impressive compared to an ermine (short-tailed weasel) – they're lucky to see the first half of their second year.
If you're a wild animal, you're almost always killed by something other than the slow, peaceful death-in-sleep we all hope for. Be it bus or bear, weather or wolf, rabies or red-tailed hawk, something comes along and picks you off before you have the chance to live out your golden years in a cozy den. Odds are, you don't even see the first gray hairs in your pelt before death sweeps you away.
Nevertheless, animals sometimes do reach old age. A raccoon subject to the comforts of captivity (all the crawfish it can eat) might make it to 21 years – more than quadruple the lifespan of its average wild counterpart.

This difference is even more pronounced in the common raven. These largest of North American corvids (crows, jays, and their kin) have a recorded wild lifespan of almost 22 years, yet there are reports of individuals at the Tower of London having persisted in excess of 44 years. There's even an unsubstantiated report of one individual hanging on to the perch for 80 years.

There are trends in longevity as well. The clearest is this: the larger an organism is, the longer it tends to live. The lowly common vole, even in the comforts of captivity, won't make it much past three years. Captive red foxes have seen 21 years; captive black bears have made it to 34. This large-small divide often mirrors predator-prey relationships. A mature cougar, a whopping 138 pounds on average, can live to be 18 years in the wild. On the other end of the food chain, eastern cottontails, a wimpy 2.75 pounds, max out at five years and average only 15 months.

There are also trends among taxonomic groups. Turtles generally can last longer than a half-century. Snakes can't. Wild garter snakes live up to 14 years, and the black racer doesn't usually survive far past 10 years.

Insects have it the worst: in their adult phase, monarch butterflies never live longer than eight or nine months. Bumblebee queens may persist all of a year, while their workers can look forward to a few months of forced labor before they kick the honey-bucket. And in the live fast, die young competition, the mayflies have it wings down – after a year as aquatic larvae, they ascend to the skies and taste sweet freedom for all of a day before dying en masse.

And, of course, some species buck the trends. Snapping turtles, the largest turtles in New England, have lived to be 47 years old. Painted turtles weigh less than a tenth as much as an average snapper, yet at least one has been recorded as living to the ripe old age of 61. Captive bobcats have lived to 32 years, while the oldest captive cougar has only seen 23 years, 8 months. This could all be chalked up to a lack of good comparative data, but the numbers are intriguing, anyway.

Amid all the scientific uncertainty, aging continues. Eyesight weakens; tendons slacken; reaction times slow. You miss a few more rabbits; it's harder to make the dash for cover. Fur loses its luster, talons their edge, scales their sheen – every organism lurches over the hill of life and begins the ignoble, tumbling descent down the other side. But hey, there's always a hungry bear or a hurtling bus, and it's liable to get you first.

Kenrick Vezina is a science writer, naturalist, and raconteur; he loves animals and alliteration