Red Panda – Wildlife at Heart

Introductions

Hi there! Andora the red panda here — yes, the fluffy-tailed, round-faced, adorable cutie. (Cue video of one of us eating a beloved grape.) Sure, we look precious (we can’t help it!), but there’s a whole lot more going on behind these big bright eyes.

While we do love to play and are a curious lot, we are also naturally cautious given that we have few defenses against predators. So just as we maintain our balance walking across precarious sky-high tree limbs, we also walk the line between the two seemingly contradictory lifestyles. Stick with me for a bit and I’ll show you we juggle these competing priorities.

Fast Facts

Where We Live

We live in patches of isolated forest in the mountainous regions in China, Myanmar, Bhutan, India, and Nepal.

IUCN Status

We are listed as Endangered, primarily due to:

Habitat loss and fragmentation, compounded by an increasing human population and climate change
Capture for the illegal pet trade and fur pelts

celebrity red panda

One 2020 morning when Oregon Zookeepers arrived at the red panda enclosure, they found a surprise: little Pabu. They hadn’t realized he was even a twinkle in his parents’ eyes. But they made the best of it, taking the opportunity for an after-the-fact baby shower and ultimately naming the little one after an animated character from The Legend of Korra. Pabu now lives at ZooMontana.

International red panda Day

is the third Saturday in September! Be sure to check out the Red Panda Network for activities that celebrate us.

Fun Fact

In India, red panda experts are reintroducing zoo-raised red pandas to the natural world.

subspecies of red panda

There are two species of red pandas:

Chinese
- We live on the Eastern side of the Zangbu River in South-central China and northern Myanmar.
- We have more red color on our faces.
Himalayan or Western
- We live on the Western side of the Zangbu River in Tibet, Bhutan, Nepal, and northeastern India.
- We often have more white fur on our faces.

Red Panda Social Structure

We red pandas are big fans of alone time. In fact, we’re so independent that we only come together with other adults during breeding season — and even then, we keep things brief. The rest of the year? Although I often have a cub or two in tow, I need my solitude from other adults!

If I accidentally bump into another animal, you’ll probably hear a dramatic snort or huff-quack from me before I zip off to a safer, quieter spot. A girl has to have her boundaries!

Speaking of boundaries, as adults we each maintain a territory, although they tend to overlap. Male home ranges are typically around two square miles (six square kilometers), while female territories are a bit smaller at one square mile (just under three kilometers). We use scent to map our boundaries but prefer to peace-out rather than vigorously defending our turf.

Red Panda Communications – Scent-sational

Scent marking is our primary way of communicating territorial boundaries. Using our urine and a secretion from our anal glands, we mark trails, rocks, and trees within our territories. Even the scent deposited on the ground from the glands in our footpads lets others know, “Hey, this spot is taken!”. We also employ scat stations at the base of trees, high up in the trees, or along a trail. Once we lay down a boundary mark, we regularly update it. Gotta keep our communication fresh!

Growing Up Red Panda

In The Beginning

I was born in a den within a tree hollow, weighing roughly the same as a twinkie. My eyes and ears were shut, and I was coated in gray, wooly fur. Thank goodness for Mom! She cleaned and dried me, then pulled me onto her chest for a nap. Mom stayed with me full-time for the first few days, then began departing for a few hours at a stretch to grab a bite to eat. Lest you fear for me while I was home alone, I snoozed the time away and she was never gone for too long. When she returned, as well as when we woke from our slumber, she’d move us to the far corner of our den to nurse me. And she’d always give me a good bath while I was eating. It marks the beginning of my lifelong neatnik tendencies.

Sometimes when she heard a sound outside our den, Mom would stop what she was doing and listen carefully. She also used her sense of smell. If she perceived any risk whatsoever to our safety, she would move us to a new site. She wasn’t taking any chances that a predator like a clouded leopard or snow leopard would grab this precious cargo.

At any rate, I continued sleeping most of the day, which fueled my growth spurt. By the time I’d been around for two and a half weeks, my eyes and ears had opened so I could see and hear my new surroundings. And while I was still slow and uncoordinated, I was able to totter around in the den.

All Play and No Work!

By week six, I had nearly perfected the art of getting around inside our home. I also had a huge appetite for playing! I enjoyed wrestling with Mom, playing with twigs, and exploring and climbing on structures within our den. Every so often, I would leap randomly – just to keep things interesting. I also had fun getting my pounce on. Mom was usually my victim, but she managed to mostly sidestep my games. Sometimes, though, it was a little harder to dodge my sneak attacks — like when Mom would startle me and I’d leap forward and swat her – until I realized who I’d just smacked down. Then I’d quickly bow my body and head down submissively to apologize. Good thing Mom was such a good sport!

By the time I was seven weeks old, I was roughly the equivalent of a reddish-brown football, having outgrown my gray natal coat. This was a huge milestone because it meant I was better camouflaged in our forest trees, which sport a similarly colored reddish-brown moss. Now, Mom didn’t have to worry about me quite so much. Although, instead of me sleeping on Mom’s chest or with her curled around me, she started using me as a pillow. What the heck?

Around that same time frame, Mom started bringing bamboo twigs to our den for me to chew on. Sometimes she brought leaves she had chewed up in advance for me too so I could sample a bamboo mash. Yum! I was still nursing at the time but now Mom would drag me to a branch outside our den to feed me. She also began gently repelling my awesome wrestling moves.

Outdoor Recreation

By the time I was ten weeks old, Mom encouraged me to play outside. One night, a few weeks later, I took the first step of venturing out to the branch on my own. It felt safe there and gave me regular access to solid food. Eventually, I got really brave and followed Mom out into the wide world. I stayed super close to her though.

As I graduated to juvenile status at three months of age, I was grooming myself for at least 40 minutes a day. Playtime now featured running, jumping, and, of course, the fan-favorite — pouncing. And to my stunned amazement, Mom started actually defending herself against my rough housing. She’d sometimes nip my nose or leg if I was getting too rough. Rude, Mom!

I was starting to spend more time outside by then and even slept outside unless the weather was bad. By four months, I was swaggering across the trees. And if I reached a thin branch, no problem! In case you didn’t know it, we red pandas are superb climbers. We’re just built for this arboreal lifestyle with tails to help us balance when walking across branches and false thumbs that allow us to grip a branch or a vine. We have such a good grasp on climbing that we tend to climb down trees headfirst.

By five months, Mom and I were roughly the same size. I continued to hone my awesome climbing skills and imitated Mom’s methods for meals. By then, she was limiting the milk bar to outdoor time only and when I was eight months old, she cut me off completely. Still, I followed Mom around to continue learning how to red panda for another two months. By then, I was ten whole months old and was no longer following Mom so closely. Within the month, Mom stopped our co-habitation and no longer slept with me. By then, we were well into spring, and it was time for me to find my own place in the world. Over the next several months, I dispersed some thirteen miles (twenty-one kilometers) away.

Red Panda Communications

While it’s unusual for an adult red panda to vocalize, we babies have no such hesitations. When I was hungry, I let Mom know with a high-pitched whistle.

Adulting, Red Panda Style

I want to Hang out with someone?

Now that I was on my own, I spent the next year enjoying my new solitude. But suddenly, something changed. As the days began to lengthen, I started craving companionship.

I began marking my territory with more scent marks than usual, which as it turns out, led Teddy straight to me. When I first saw him, I gave him a beguiling head bob. He twittered back at me, and I bleated in response. (Both sounds are heard only during mating season and resemble a rapidly repeated syllable.) He responded by resting and eating near me and as the days passed, he came closer. We spent a few days in each other’s company, playfully chasing each other along high tree branches, our bushy tails knocking snow to the ground below. With him in close pursuit, I’d sometimes scurry down the tree and land in the snow. He’d drop down near me and then we’d tussle and swat at each other. We even slept next to eat other, snuggled beneath the thick branches of a yew tree. Eventually things got a little amorous and we groomed each other between those sessions.

How Cute Are We?

All adult red pandas look alike, with an average body-length of 25 inches (63 centimeters) plus another 19 inches (48 centimeters) for our rather glorious tails. But if you want to wager if you’re looking at a gent or a lady, the biggest distinction is that we females are slightly smaller — eight pounds (four kilograms) compared to twelve pounds (five and a half kilograms).

Cubbies

As quickly as the need for companionship took over my life, it similarly disappeared in a flash. A few weeks after my time with Teddy, I started to feel lethargic. A month later, I found myself making several dens, each a hole in a tree in a secluded glen. I lined them with soft plants, leaves, small twigs, and mosses. After setting things up, I rolled on my back to squish it all into a cozy nest. Two weeks later, my sweet Moshu and MeiMei were born.

It was nice to have a choice of dens. Each time before I entered my current home, I would listen to my surroundings and then stick out my tongue to collect scents. If I heard or sniffed anything that made me nervous, I relocated the three of us immediately. Within these dens, I cared for my little darlings for the next six months and supported them until they were ready to take on the world by themselves.

And so, the cycle continues. As the daylight stretches a little longer, I feel a short-lived urge for company. When that passes, I start preparing my dens, and about sixty days later, I’m snuggling a brand-new cub or two.

Red Panda Lovin’

Not all males play the mating game. Rather, it is a few males who take care of the business end of amore. When more than one guy is interested, they may engage in a boxing match to see who wins the honors. Both will stand on their hind legs with their arms raised, making a quacking snort and swatting at each other until a victor emerges.

Low Survival Rate

Sadly, our cubs have a very low survival rate with only 26% reaching adulthood.

A Typical Day For Me as an Adult

Nighttime is the Right Time

My day begins at dusk, and my first order of business is to tidy myself up because I’m still a bit fanatical about cleanliness. I lick my forepaws and clean my face, very much like you’ve seen pet cats do. While I’m still seated, I lick my legs and chest. Finally, I pull my tail towards my mouth with my forepaws to clean it.

After I’ve tidied myself up, I head out to mark my territory. I live in a dense bamboo thicket and make use of my awesome climbing skills to scratch my belly along the trunks. I also leave a scent where I walk, courtesy of the glands in my paws and mark a few rocks to be on the safe side. Then it’s time to do a quick patrol along my boundaries.

Once I’m sure my territory is secure, it’s chow time! Bamboo provides the bulk of my meals. Occasionally, I will eat while I’m on the ground, but most of the time I find a seat on a branch, tree stump, or fallen log to elevate myself to the tree where I meticulously nip the leaves off the branch. I adore the young leaves and shoots of spring and fall and enjoy fruit during the summer. Otherwise, I contentedly nibble my bamboo leaves and may supplement my diet with flowers, seeds, eggs and insects. Overall, I will spend ten hours a day eating three pounds (1.5 kilograms) of fresh bamboo leaves.

Once I’ve had my fill, it’s time to make my daily drink dash. While I really don’t like to get wet, I do need water every day. It’s scary to be on the ground and so vulnerable, though. Once I reach the nearby stream, I dip my front paw in the water and then lick my paw. After a few sips, I dash back to the safety of the trees.

After all this activity, it’s time for a quick nap. Afterwards, I return to foraging. As dawn approaches, I have a short-lived final feeding frenzy and then, the trees beckon me for a good long nap. [After all, through the night I’ve moved some 770 feet (235 meters) from my last sleeping spot. It’s enough to exhaust anyone as cute and adorable as me!] I will spend the bulk of my day sleeping but rise once or twice for a quick snack.

On Being Cool

I have a strong preference for lower temperatures so during the summers I retreat to the forests higher up in the mountains. I descend back down to the lower forest during the winter. To keep warm, my fur grows thicker, and I use my tail as an insulating blanket. When it gets really, really cold, I become dormant for hours at a time – a state known as “torpor”. When I’m ready to eat, I can temporarily increase my metabolism while I find food. Then it’s back to sleepy time.

How To Help Us

If you’re interested in helping us (thank you most kindly!), I have a few suggestions. Since habitat loss and fragmentation are the biggest threats we face, you can support conservation groups that protect our forest homes. You can also donate to organizations that work to stop poaching and illegal capture – sadly, many of us are still taken from the wild for the pet trade.

You can help in other ways, too:

Support sustainable products. Choosing goods made from responsibly sourced wood, bamboo, and paper helps reduce pressure on our forest homes.
Spread the word. Tell your friends about red pandas, share reputable conservation groups, or educate others about why wild animals should stay wild.
Buy a bracelet from Fahlo to support AZA’s SAFE and SAFE Red Panda conservation work.

Even small actions can have a big impact. From one grateful red panda to you — thank you for caring about us!

Returning the Favor

Since you’re thinking of helping us, I’d love to give something back. We red pandas are proof that you can be shy yet curious, and bold yet cautious all at once — and still thrive. So take a page from our treetop playbook: let all your sides coexist. Let your brave days and quiet days both matter. You don’t have to choose just one version of yourself. The magic happens when you balance them, just like we do.

For more information on Red Pandas, read Red Pandas (Living Wild) by Mellissa Gish or, if you want to read something more science-minded Red Panda: Biology and Conservation of the First Panda by Angela Glatston. You can also check out the Red Panda Network website.

Special thanks to Nicki Boyd, General Curator at the San Diego Zoo, Program Leader for SAFE Red Panda, and founding and current board member of Red Panda Network for serving as an expert advisor on Red Panda.