Chronic Wasting Disease
It's not often that a wildlife disease makes headlines. This one
has.
Article by Chris Madson
(This article appeared in the May, 1998 issue of Wyoming Wildlife
Magazine)
The biologists first recognized it in 1967. Some of the captive deer
at the Colorado Division of Wildlife's research facilities in Fort Collins
began to lose weight on a diet that sustained other deer. After several
months, they had wasted away to skin and bones. They drank incessantly,
urinated often, and spent much of their time standing listlessly in their
corrals, heads down, ears drooping, saliva dripping from their mouths.
The biologists knew they had a unique syndrome on their hands, but what
was it? Blood samples showed nothing unusual; liver and kidneys were normal.
The disease was like nothing they had ever seen— at least, in deer.
Over a ten-year period, the illness showed up in Colorado research pens
and in the Wyoming Game and Fish Department's Sybille research unit near
Wheatland. Because the Colorado and Wyoming facilities regularly traded
deer and elk, the appearance of the disease in Wyoming came as no great
surprise.
At first, researchers monitoring the affected animals suspected that
they were suffering from a nutritional deficiency or an unfortunate reaction
to captivity, but as the years went by, more and more facts interfered
with that diagnosis. Mule deer were living in captivity all over the West—
if the stress of captivity or dietary deficiency were causing the illness,
why was it confined to deer in these Colorado and Wyoming research pens?
And why was this disease so virulent? Between 1974 and 1979, sixty-six
mule deer and one black-tailed deer were held captive in Colorado and Wyoming
research corrals, mainly as subjects in long-term studies of deer food
habits and nutrition. Of these sixty-seven long-term residents, fifty-seven
contracted the strange disease. None survived.
A search for several likely viruses and bacteria turned up nothing.
Since the illness in these deer was unlike any other disease reported in
deer, the biologists christened it "chronic wasting disease" in recognition
of the long, irreversible weight loss that eventually killed the victim.
As the death toll mounted, wildlife vets began a painstaking analysis
of tissues, looking for a cause. In 1978, Beth Williams, now with the Wyoming
State Veterinary Laboratory, found the first evidence in the brains of
the victims. Under high magnification, she could see tiny holes in the
contents of the nerve cells, so many holes that the tissue looked like
a sponge.
The damage appeared in many parts of the brain and upper spinal cord.
In addition to the holes, there were patches of protein build-up between
some brain cells and degeneration of others, but in spite of this fatal
destruction of brain tissue, there was no sign of inflammation or response
of the animal's immune system.
The condition of the tissue samples and symptoms of the illness itself
reminded pathologists of a sheep disease called scrapie. Like deer with
chronic wasting disease, sheep with scrapie tend to lose weight. But scrapie-infected
sheep show different symptoms, too— they seem to be itchy and will scratch
themselves until they wear off their fleece and break the skin (hence,
the common name for the disease). They often lose control of their muscles,
staggering and showing tremor in the muscles around their heads.
Scrapie seems to be the oldest of a small group of related diseases
called spongiform encephalopathies. First reported in the mid-1700s, scrapie
has affected sheep and goats in Great Britain, Europe, and North America
for centuries. In all that time, it has never been reported in other animals,
including generations of shepherds who have lived in close association
with their flocks.
The apparent similarity between chronic wasting disease and scrapie
raised more questions than it answered. In the 1970s, no one was sure what
caused scrapie. Since the disease took several months to run its course,
some researchers assumed that it was a genetic illness. Others thought
there must be a "slow virus" too small to be detected by existing techniques.
This stealth germ was thought to be the cause of all the transmissible
spongiform encephalopathies from scrapie and chronic wasting disease to
rare human diseases like Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease.
While the discussion over the cause of chronic wasting disease continued,
biologists in the field reported more unsettling news. The disease had
turned up in wild deer. Vets with the Colorado Division of Wildlife and
the Wyoming Game and Fish Department and pathologists with the Wyoming
and Colorado veterinary diagnostic laboratories routinely examine animals
that have been collected because they were sick. In March 1981, biologists
in northcentral Colorado brought in a sick elk that turned out to be suffering
from chronic wasting disease.
Over the next fourteen years, lab work turned up sixty cases of chronic
wasting disease— forty-four in mule deer, six in white-tailed deer, and
ten in elk. In 1986, a Wyoming elk was diagnosed with the disease, the
first case reported in a free-ranging Wyoming big game animal. All of the
sick animals were found in northeastern and northcentral Colorado and in
southeastern Wyoming.
It was certainly no raging disease outbreak, and it didn't seem to be
gaining momentum as time went on. Still, vets and biologists had cause
for concern. They were pretty sure that chronic wasting disease was 100
percent fatal to deer once they become ill, and they still didn't know
what caused the disease or how it spread.
Their concern deepened as they experimented with ways to sanitize the
holding pens in Fort Collins and Sybille. All the deer and elk in the contaminated
pens at Sybille were killed, and the pens were left empty for six months
to a year. When deer and elk were reintroduced to the pens, they were animals
that weren't known to have had direct contact with infected deer and elk.
In spite of these efforts, elk in the pens came down with chronic wasting
disease within five years after the attempt at sterilizing the facility.
In Fort Collins, the effort was even more intense. All the deer and
elk in the facility were killed and buried. Then personnel plowed up the
soil in the pens in an effort to bury possible disease organisms and sprayed
structures and pastures repeatedly with a strong disinfectant. A year later,
they took twelve elk calves from the wild and released them in the sanitized
holding areas. In the next five years, two of these elk died from chronic
wasting disease.
If the disease were caused by a "slow virus," it was an exceptionally
tough organism.
In 1972, a neurologist serving his residency at the University of California's
School of Medicine lost a patient to Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, an exceedingly
rare and brutal brain disorder. During his struggle to arrest the disease,
he was struck with the lack of information on the cause. Two years later,
he established a laboratory at the University of California-San Francisco
and decided to look into the notion of an undetectable "slow virus."
His name was Stanley Prusiner and his investigation of the group of
pathogens responsible for scrapie, Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, and other
transmissible spongiform encephalopathies won him the Nobel Prize in Medicine
in 1997.
Prusiner and a few other pioneers recognized that, whatever caused scrapie,
it was hard to defuse. Sterilization techniques that killed known germs—viruses,
bacteria, fungi, and protozoans— didn't affect the scrapie pathogen. The
only procedures that seemed to short-circuit the scrapie bug were those
that actually broke down proteins. He knew that killing normal germs is
usually a matter of destroying the delicate DNA and/or RNA that makes up
their nuclei. He knew that tissue infected with scrapie showed no foreign
DNA or RNA. With all this information, he guessed that the scrapie agent
lacked DNA, that it was naked protein.
The notion was near-blasphemy in biological circles. Modern biological
theory is based on the notion that all proteins are built from a blueprint
provided by DNA or RNA. Without the blueprint, the reasoning goes, it's
impossible to reproduce an accurate copy of any protein. Prusiner was saying
that a protein could transform other proteins into its own image, and more
than two decades of research are proving him right. He called this group
of pathogens proteinaceous infectious particles"— prions, for short.
If one of these prions causes scrapie, the thinking went, then other
prions are probably responsible for the other spongiform encephalopathies.
In a few cases, the blueprints for these prions may even be inherited,
which would explain why exceedingly rare human spongiform encephalopathies
like fatal familial insomnia, Gerstmann-Stäussler-Scheinker disease,
and some cases of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease are found only in a tiny number
of extremely unlucky families.
Typically, human spongiform encephalopathies aren't passed from one
individual to another. There's only one known exception to this rule, an
odd prion disease passed from one tribal member to another among the Fore
Highlanders of New Guinea. It was custom among the Fores to honor the dead
members of the tribe through ritual cannibalism, including eating the brains
of the departed relative. This spread a fatal illness called kuru or the
laughing death. When western missionaries convinced the Fores to find other
ways to honor their deceased comrades, the disease died out. Other prion-caused
diseases seem to find less direct ways to jump from one victim to another,
but scientists aren't sure how. And there is a possibility that the prions
aren't transmitted but arise from a spontaneous change in a protein molecule.
Since proteins differ from one species to another, prions are less likely
to prosper in a new species than in the one in which they began. This "species
barrier" is hardest to breach when proteins in the two species are most
different. Species with closely related proteins may be able to exchange
prion-caused diseases, but even in such circumstances, the prions probably
won't jump the species barrier unless there is massive exposure or the
prions find an unusual way to get straight into a new victim's brain. Researchers
working with lab mice have found that the most efficient way to do this
is to inject prion-infected tissue directly into the brain. Injecting prions
from another species under the skin is thousands of times less effective
in inducing the disease, and feeding infected food to the mice is less
efficient still.
Closely confined, the research deer had the greatest possible chance
of transmitting the disease. Elk are fairly close relatives of the mule
deer and, confined with infected deer, occasionally developed chronic wasting
disease. Whether they actually caught the disease from the deer is open
to some question. Pronghorns, bighorn sheep, mouflon, and other more distantly
related species didn't come down with the disease, even though they were
often exposed to it.
In wild deer where there is much less day-to-day contact than there
is among penned research animals, the disease spreads very slowly and affects
a small proportion of the herd. What remains is to find the way the disease
passes from one animal to another and the best way to destroy the prions.
It about the time Prusiner and his colleagues were discovering prions,
prions found their own way into international news. In 1986, British vets
reported a new disease in the United Kingdom's cattle herds. It started
with changes in behavior— nervousness, frenzied activity, sudden fear of
doorways, and heightened response to sound and touch. The affected animals
began to lose weight, and in dairy cows, milk yield dropped. Finally, the
cows began to lose control of their muscles, showed tremors, and stood
with their heads and ears drooping.
The vets called it bovine spongiform encephalopathy (BSE); the press
dubbed it "mad cow disease." By backtracking the outbreak, disease specialists
were able to determine that the first case in history had probably occurred
in 1985. The cause may have been a change in the way cattle feed was processed.
The British have long used meat and bone meal from animals in their cattle
feed. For most of that time, they used a special solvent to extract fat
from the protein when carcasses were rendered. Sometime in 1981, the use
of this solvent was reduced, possibly allowing a much higher concentration
of prions into the finished protein meal. Another possible cause of contamination
was that more sheep byproducts were being included in British dairy feeds—
more sheep could have meant more scrapie in the feed as well.
As a result of the contamination, British farmers were confronted with
a BSE epidemic. There were twelve cases reported in 1986, 461 in 1987,
and nearly 37,000 by 1992. More than half of the United Kingdom's dairy
herds were infected. In 1988, officials banned the use of ruminant proteins
in cattle feed, and a year later, they prohibited the use of cattle brains,
spinal cord, tonsils, thymus, spleens, or intestines in human food.
Thanks to the change in cattle feed, incidence of the disease began
to drop in 1992 and continues to decline to this day. At current rates
of change, officials hope that BSE in Britain may disappear entirely sometime
after the year 2000.
However, in 1995, a new variant of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease appeared
in British patients. By March 1996, ten cases had been reported. Analysis
eventually convinced health officials that the new version was a human
form of BSE. By the end of October 1996, three more cases of the disease
had been diagnosed in Britain and one in France.
In the wake of the "mad cow disease" news coverage, officials in the
U.S. began wondering about the possible risks of chronic wasting disease.
After all, they reasoned, BSE is a prion-caused disease; chronic wasting
disease is a prion-caused disease. If BSE could spread to humans, why not
chronic wasting disease? Headlines in the Denver Post shouted, "To eat
or not to eat is the hunter's question" and "Ill animals spook hunters."
And, on another front, some ranchers worried about their free-ranging livestock
mixing with deer.
Of course, from the standpoint of sensational press, the story is in
the similarities between the two diseases, not the differences, but the
differences are worth considering. It took a massive contamination of feed
to establish BSE in British cattle and contamination of British beef products
to produce twenty-four cases of the new variant of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease.
Right now, the human disease has appeared in a little more than .00004
percent of the British population. Since the disease can take years to
develop, it may be a decade before we know how many cases of the variant
Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease the British BSE outbreak finally caused but with
the cleanup in British cattle feed and strict controls on beef sold for
human consumption, the likelihood of new infections in humans is infinitesimal.
In comparison, surveys in northern Colorado during the 1997 hunting
season showed that few deer there carry chronic wasting disease. Samples
taken in Larimer County show that about six percent of the deer killed
there tested positive for the disease. Collection of elk show that less
than one percent of the animals taken by hunters test positive.
Wyoming did a similar survey among deer hunters in the southeastern
part of the state and reached similar conclusions. Last fall, biologists
collected samples of deer and elk brain from cooperating hunters in southeastern
Wyoming. They took 137 usable samples of deer brain tissue from hunt areas
that were suspected to contain chronic wasting disease— areas 16, 59, 60,
62, 63, and 64. Eight of these animals tested positive— slightly less than
six percent of the animals tested. Seven of the cases came from hunt area
64.
Biologists also took ninety-three deer samples from surrounding hunt
areas— deer areas 15, 55, 57, and 73. None of these deer had chronic wasting
disease. Fifteen elk samples from elk hunt areas 5, 7, 12, 13, 21, 82,
and 110 were also free of the disease.
Since chronic wasting disease first turned up in the wild in 1981, about
100 cases have been reported in wild mule deer, white-tailed deer, and
elk, and only eleven of those cases were in Wyoming. The number of cases
has gone up in recent years— no one knows whether that is because we're
looking harder for the disease or because more deer are infected now. At
this point, chronic wasting disease remains rare in the wild, and it is
confined to a few hunt areas in northcentral Colorado and southeastern
Wyoming. And in the thirty years we have known about the disease, no human
has ever come down with it.
Veterinarians at the U.S. Department of Agriculture's Agriculture Research
Service, the University of Wyoming, the Colorado Division of Wildlife,
and the Wyoming Game and Fish Department are studying the issue of chronic
wasting disease in livestock. They are looking for the answers to three
questions. First: Can cattle be infected with chronic wasting disease?
The vets have injected infected tissue directly into the brains of calves
to find out whether it's even possible for a cow to suffer the illness.
Second: If infection is possible, can a cow pick up the disease in its
feed? The vets have given cattle a single dose of contaminated feed to
find out whether chronic wasting disease can be orally transmitted.
And third: Can cattle catch this disease by living in pens where it
has occurred in the past or by sharing pens with infected deer and elk?
Deer and elk may catch chronic wasting disease in this way, but only many
years of tests will show whether the same can be said of cattle.
Chronic wasting disease can take several years to claim its victims,
and the vets running the studies expect to continue them for as much as
a decade. In the meantime, the Wyoming State Veterinary Laboratory will
continue to cooperate in the national watch for BSE, and the Game and Fish
Department will continue to test for chronic wasting disease to keep tabs
on how many animals are affected and where the disease is found.
Should hunters be concerned?
Chronic wasting disease isn't known to affect people. Scrapie, a disease
related to chronic wasting disease, has existed in sheep for at least 300
years, yet there has never been a case of scrapie reported in a human being,
even among people who work with sheep and the millions of people who eat
lamb and mutton.
There has been concern over Great Britain's experience with "mad cow
disease" and a handful of cases of human new-variant Creutzfeldt-Jakob
disease. Those twenty-four cases resulted after a population of 50 million
people was exposed to a huge outbreak of spongiform encephalopathy in British
cattle. With the passing of the disease in British livestock, the likelihood
of further cases of the new variant of Cruetzfeldt-Jakob disease will drop
rapidly.
Even in the parts of Wyoming and Colorado where chronic wasting disease
is found, less than six percent of deer are infected. In these areas and
in other places where big game animals may carry different diseases, a
few precautions are sensible:
1) Don't shoot an animal that is acting abnormally or looks
sick.
2) Wear rubber or latex gloves when you field-dress your animal.
3) In areas where chronic wasting disease has been reported, minimize
your contact with a dead deer's brain and spinal cord and wash your hands
after contact.
4) Don't eat deer brains or spinal cord.
5) Bone out your deer meat and discard the brain, spinal cord, eyes,
spleen, and lymph nodes.
Prions: New germs
Since our discovery of the chemical basis of genes in the 1950s, our understanding
of the chemical working of cells has exploded. But the more we discover,
the more we find needs discovering.
Even though Stanley Prusiner recently won the Nobel Prize for his work
on prions, the concept of a prion as a protein that can transform other
proteins still has opponents in the scientific world. However, intense
research with genetically engineered mice here in the U.S. and in Great
Britain is proving him right.
In yeasts, prions may act as a kind of gene, passing valuable traits
from one generation to another. In mammals, normal proteins of this general
class are found on the membranes of nerve cells. Researchers are still
working to define their role. Mice that are genetically engineered to keep
from producing prions suffer from changes in the way electrical charges
move through the brain. Some scientists believe that an absence of these
proteins may interfere with the mouse's ability to learn. Too many of them
may lead to muscle diseases.
But these problems are insignificant compared to the difficulties these
proteins cause when they twist into certain forms that resist the attacks
of enzymes. These molecules stick together in microscopic mats called beta
sheets. As these uniquely twisted molecules contact normal protein, the
normal molecules twist as well, forming a new generation of dangerous prions.
These sheets of molecules collect and eventually kill the nerve cell,
leaving microscopic holes in the tissue of the brain.
Document URL: http://gf.state.wy.us/html/hunting/chronicwast.htm
Last Modified: Thursday, January 28, 1999 2:31 PM
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