COFFMAN, G.C. 2021. DISCOVERING THE MAJESTIC MAI HING SAM OF LAOS. ARNOLDIA, 78(3): 18-27 
Discovering the Majestic Mai Hing Sam of Laos 
Gretchen C. Coffman 
n early April 2007, less than three weeks 
after submitting my dissertation and receiv- 
ing my doctorate at the University of Cali- 
fornia, Los Angeles, I got on a plane headed for 
Laos. It took four flights and more than twenty 
hours of flying time to get to the capital city 
of Vientiane. From there, I was bound for the 
Annamite Mountains: an eight-hour drive from 
Vientiane, then onward by truck, hand tractor 
(tok tok), and boat. 
The remote Annamite Mountains run 680 
miles (1,100 kilometers) along the border 
between Vietnam and Laos, reaching into north- 
ern Cambodia. This range divides the Mekong 
River Basin to the west from Vietnam’s nar- 
row coastal plain to the east. The mountains 
are home to exceptional biodiversity. After the 
Vietnam War ended, Laos closed to Western- 
ers, but in the early 1990s, the borders began to 
open. Biologists began to document fascinating 
endemic wildlife, some new to science, includ- 
ing the enigmatic saola (Pseudoryx nghetinhen- 
sis), a critically endangered bovine that, due to 
its rarity, has been dubbed the Asian unicorn. 
Perhaps the most miraculous discovery was 
that of the endangered Laos rock rat (Laonastes 
aenigmamus)}, a rodent identified as a surviving 
member of a family (Diatomyidae) previously 
thought to have gone extinct about eleven mil- 
lion years ago.! 
Plant biodiversity in this mountain range is 
exceptionally rich as well, and many new spe- 
cies have been documented.” When I initially 
arrived in the foothills, I could not have imag- 
ined that I would become part of one of these 
discoveries: the first biologist to collect samples 
of the majestic Asian swamp cypress (Glypto- 
strobus pensilis) growing in the country. This 
critically endangered species—locally known as 
mai hing sam—is currently documented in only 
two other heavily degraded populations, both in 
Vietnam. The mai hing sam in Laos are the 
only old-growth specimens in the world, and 
in recent years, the stands have been increas- 
ingly threatened by agricultural development 
and poaching for the luxury timber market. The 
protection of the few hundred remaining indi- 
viduals in Laos has become my mission. 
Arriving in Laos 
My journey to the Annamite Mountains had 
begun four months earlier, when a member of 
my doctoral committee, Phil Rundel, emailed 
me with a proposal to work on a project in an 
especially remote part of Laos. I was imme- 
diately intrigued by the biodiversity, and the 
thought of getting away from my computer days 
after finishing my dissertation was alluring. Yet, 
I was hesitant. The opportunity involved work- 
ing as a restoration ecologist on a World Bank 
hydropower project. As a wetland and riparian 
ecologist by training, I had always focused my 
research and professional work on protecting 
rivers and streams, not damming them. 
Rundel encouraged me to research both points 
of view—pro- and anti-hydropower dam. On 
my breaks from dissertation writing that win- 
ter, I read articles and websites from advocates 
and opponents (including, among the latter, 
International Rivers and other nongovernmen- 
tal organizations). I also corresponded with 
wildlife biologists who would be working on 
the project. The work was part of mitigation 
actions for the Nam Theun 2 Hydropower Proj- 
ect and supported the development of a national 
park in the reservoir’s headwaters. At more 
than 1,300 square miles (3,500 square kilome- 
ters), this protected area is one of the largest 
remaining contiguous areas of forests on the 
Indochinese Peninsula.* 
Ultimately, I made a pragmatic decision: 
there was no stopping the dam, but I could 
work for the wildlife by helping to develop a 
conservation plan. I would work closely with 
Facing page: The author was the first researcher to document the critically endangered Asian swamp cypress, Glyptostro- 
bus pensilis, growing in Laos. This old-growth specimen, photographed in 2015, is locally known as the “mother tree.” 
PHOTO BY DAVID MCGUIRE 
