Indonesian wildfires threaten world's longest orangutan study as apes flee Borneo

Critically endangered Bornean orangutans are fleeing fires, with at least five individuals from the long-term study population observed escaping flames, threatening the survival of a population dependent on forest habitat.
If all we have left is the building, what are we studying?
Knott describes the paradox of saving the research station while losing the forest and orangutans it was built to study.
Mark

So this is about a research station in danger, but it sounds like the real story is about what happens to the orangutans themselves.

Mimi

Both things are happening at once. The station is threatened, yes, but the apes are already fleeing. Five individuals from the study population were observed running from the flames. These aren't anonymous animals—researchers have tracked them for years, watched them reproduce, raise offspring, age.

Luke

How do we know those five orangutans made it? The reporting says they were observed fleeing, but does it say whether they survived?

Mimi

It doesn't. We know they were seen escaping. What happened after that isn't documented in the reporting.

Mark

And the research itself—32 years of data. Is that stored somewhere safe, or is it at the station?

Mimi

The reporting doesn't specify where the data is physically kept. It emphasizes that the continuous observation is what's irreplaceable—the fact of having followed the same individuals over decades. That's the knowledge that can't be recreated.

Luke

Right, but that's different from saying the data will be lost if the station burns. The data might be backed up elsewhere. The loss would be the interruption of the study, the inability to continue collecting observations.

Mimi

That's a crucial distinction. The station itself is a place where research happens. If it burns, the work stops. The apes lose habitat. The study loses continuity.

Mark

What about the broader forest? Is Gunung Palung national park protected, or is it vulnerable to development even if the fire doesn't destroy it?

Mimi

The reporting describes it as one of the few truly ecologically intact tracts of lowland tropical rainforest in Borneo. That suggests it's rare and valuable. But it doesn't detail the legal protections or threats beyond the fire.

Luke

And the fire itself—is it still spreading, or has it been contained in some areas?

Mimi

The reporting says flames have burned within 200 metres of Rangkong station and that without intervention, fire will reach Cabang Panti in 20 days. It's still advancing. The team is fighting it, but they're asking for resources they don't have.

Mark

So this is also a story about climate. El Niño created the conditions.

Mimi

Yes. The fires are intentionally set every year, but El Niño has made them uncontrollable. It's a direct line from global ocean temperatures to local fire to the destruction of a research site and orangutan habitat.

Luke

Though it's worth noting: the reporting attributes the fire season forecast to Indonesian meteorologists and the El Niño prediction to climate forecasts. Those are solid sources. But the specific claim that this particular El Niño is "exceptionally strong"—is that quantified anywhere?

Mimi

It's described as "extremely strong" but not with specific numbers. We're taking that characterization at face value based on the reporting.

Mark

What happens after October, if the fire season ends?

Mimi

The reporting doesn't address recovery or what the landscape looks like afterward. It's focused on the immediate crisis.

  • Fires set deliberately for land clearing have escaped all control under El Niño-driven drought, burning to within 200 metres of Rangkong station and advancing toward Cabang Panti with 20 days to spare.
  • At least five orangutans from the long-term study population have been observed fleeing the flames, some only metres ahead of the fire's edge — animals whose entire lives have been documented now running for survival.
  • Over 40 people are working around the clock, building firebreaks and improvised sprinkler systems to keep the peat soil wet, knowing that once peat ignites it can smoulder underground for months.
  • Local defenders have reached the limits of what human hands can hold back — water-bombing aircraft and trained firefighters are urgently needed but have not yet arrived.
  • Even if the station is saved, scientists warn the victory could be hollow: orangutans need vast forest ranges, and if the habitat burns, the research building becomes a monument to an absence.

In the forests of West Kalimantan, a 32-year record of wild orangutan life — among the most complete portraits of any non-human primate ever assembled — stands within 20 days of being consumed by fire. El Niño has turned routine land-clearing burns into an uncontrollable force, driving flames through forests that should not burn toward Cabang Panti research station and the critically endangered apes it has long sheltered. What is at risk is not merely a building or a dataset, but the irreplaceable accumulation of patient human attention to another species — and the forest itself, without which neither the animals nor the knowledge can survive.

In the forests of Borneo, fire is closing in on one of the world's most consequential repositories of knowledge about wild apes. Flames have already reached within 200 metres of Rangkong research station, a satellite facility of Cabang Panti inside Gunung Palung national park in West Kalimantan. Scientists now predict the fire will reach the main camp within 20 days. If it does, it will not simply destroy a building — it will erase 32 years of unbroken orangutan observation led by Cheryl Knott of Boston University, a dataset with no equal anywhere on Earth.

Hundreds of Bornean orangutans live near the stations, part of a population of more than 2,500 in the park. All three orangutan species are critically endangered. Researchers have already watched five individuals from their long-term study population flee the flames — animals whose reproductive cycles, social lives, and survival strategies have been recorded across three decades. Among the station's defining discoveries: Bornean orangutans reproduce on an eight-year cycle, the longest birth interval of any mammal on Earth — a finding that emerged only through patient, continuous observation of the same individuals over time.

The fires are not accidental. Land clearing by fire is routine in Indonesia, but this year an exceptionally strong El Niño has created extreme heat and dryness across the archipelago. In parts of West Kalimantan, months have passed with almost no rain. Fires meant to be controlled have instead spread rapidly through forests that should be too wet to burn.

On the ground, more than 40 people — field assistants, staff, and local villagers — are working around the clock to defend Rangkong. They have built firebreaks and an improvised sprinkler system to saturate the surrounding peat soil, knowing that once peat catches fire it can smoulder underground for months. But Caitlin O'Connell, deputy director of the conservation programme, is clear: local effort has reached its limits. Large-scale water bombing and trained firefighters are needed — and have not come.

Even survival of the station may not be enough. Orangutans are solitary animals requiring vast ranges; they cannot be compressed into whatever forest remains. As Knott herself has said, if the orangutans are gone and their food sources destroyed, there is nothing left to study. The forest is not incidental to the research — it is the research. Indonesian meteorologists forecast the fire season will intensify through October. The 20-day countdown to Cabang Panti runs against a much longer countdown to any relief.

In the forests of Borneo, a fire is moving toward one of the world's most valuable repositories of knowledge about wild apes. Flames have already crept within 200 metres of Rangkong research station, a satellite facility of Cabang Panti, which sits roughly four miles north inside Gunung Palung national park in West Kalimantan province. The station is home to what may be the longest continuous study of orangutans in existence—32 years of unbroken observation led by Cheryl Knott, a biological anthropologist at Boston University. If the fire reaches the main research camp, as scientists now predict it will within 20 days, it will not simply destroy a building. It will erase a dataset that has no equal.

Hundreds of Bornean orangutans live in the immediate vicinity of these research stations, part of a population of more than 2,500 thought to inhabit the park. All three species of orangutan are classified as critically endangered. The animals are already moving. Researchers have documented five individuals from their long-term study population fleeing the flames, some only metres ahead of the fire's edge. These are apes whose lives have been tracked from birth through to grandmotherhood—animals whose reproductive patterns, social structures, and survival strategies have been recorded in meticulous detail across three decades. Now they are running.

The fires themselves are not accidental. In Indonesia, land clearing by fire is routine practice, done annually to prepare ground for agriculture and development. But this year, an exceptionally strong El Niño has warmed sea-surface temperatures across the equatorial Pacific, disrupting weather systems globally and creating conditions of extreme heat and dryness across Indonesia. In some areas of West Kalimantan, months have passed with virtually no rain. The fires that were meant to be controlled have instead escaped, spreading rapidly through forests that should be too wet to burn. What happens on Borneo does not stay contained—it becomes part of a global climate story.

The research conducted at Cabang Panti has fundamentally altered how science understands orangutans and, by extension, primate reproduction itself. The station's scientists discovered that Bornean orangutans reproduce on an eight-year cycle—the longest birth interval of any mammal on Earth. This finding emerged not from theory or laboratory work, but from patient, continuous observation of the same individuals over decades. The database is, in Knott's words, unparalleled in its scope and detail. Andrew Marshall, an anthropologist at the University of Michigan who ran an orangutan project at the site from 2000 to 2020, emphasizes what is at stake: the station protects one of the few truly ecologically intact tracts of lowland tropical rainforest remaining in Borneo. Without the long-term field data that only such a place can generate, scientists cannot understand how tropical ecosystems respond to or suffer under global climate shifts.

On the ground, the response has become desperate. More than 40 people—field assistants, station staff, and local villagers—are working around the clock to defend Rangkong research station. They have built a firebreak and constructed an improvised sprinkler system using punctured hose lines to saturate the peat soil surrounding the facility. The peat is critical: once fire reaches a peat swamp, it can smoulder underground for months, even after surface flames are extinguished. Keeping the ground wet is the only defence. Yet Caitlin O'Connell, deputy director of the Gunung Palung orangutan conservation programme, is clear about the limits of what local effort can achieve. The scale of the crisis has overwhelmed local capacity. What is needed is large-scale water bombing and trained firefighters—resources that, as of now, have not materialized.

But even if the research station survives, the victory may be hollow. Orangutans are solitary animals that require vast ranges and live at low population densities. They cannot be crowded together in whatever forest remains. If the fire consumes the habitat, the building becomes an empty monument. Knott articulates the paradox plainly: if the orangutans are gone and their food sources are destroyed, what is there left to study? The forest is not incidental to the research. It is the research. Without it, there is only a structure.

Indonesian meteorologists forecast an intense fire season extending through October as climate models predict El Niño will intensify. The hotspots are everywhere. O'Connell does not shy from the implications: what was thought to be unburnable could vanish entirely if dry conditions persist for months. The countdown to Cabang Panti is 20 days. The countdown to the end of the fire season is much longer.

Orangutans are fleeing from these forests. It's just horrible.
— Cheryl Knott, biological anthropologist at Boston University
The issue has surpassed any local organisation's capacity. We need large-scale water bombing and skilled firefighters.
— Caitlin O'Connell, deputy director of the Gunung Palung orangutan conservation programme
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