Scientists studied pangolin DNA from seven countries and rediscovered a Himalayan species that had been overlooked since 1836

In 1836, a young British diplomat and naturalist named Brian Houghton Hodgson was stuck in Nepal’s Kathmandu Valley, far from Europe’s great museums but close to the forests and hills where strange animals still lived largely unseen.

One day, he came across a creature that looked almost like a pangolin—and yet, not quite.It was covered in armor‑like scales from head to tail, just as the French zoologist Georges Cuvier had described for pangolins. But this animal had clearly visible external ears, and far more scales along its trunk than any known species. For Hodgson, then 35 and hungry for discovery, this wasn’t just a curiosity; it was a question: had he stumbled onto a new species, or was this just a peculiar individual?Convinced he was looking at something undescribed, he named it Manis auritus—“auritus” meaning “with large ears” in Latin.

Still, he wasn’t entirely sure, so he hedged his bet with an alternative: Plurisquamis, “the many‑scaled,” in case the ear turned out not to be unique after all. Then he sent a specimen to London, wrote up his findings, and moved on. The world mostly forgot about auritus.Almost two centuries later, scientists are finally catching up to his question, reported the Mongabay.

A forgotten name, rediscovered in smuggled scales

Fast‑forward to the years 2016–2017, on the China–Myanmar border.

A team of Chinese researchers led by Jiang‑Yong Hu were sequencing DNA from pangolin scales seized from smugglers. They assumed most of the scales belonged to the Chinese pangolin, Manis pentadactyla, the only species believed to live in that region.But when they analysed the genetics, the scales split into two distinct lineages. One matched the known Chinese pangolin. The other—labeled “MPB”—did not match any recorded species.The question that had haunted Hodgson in 1836 surfaced again: was this something new?Around the same time, in Nepal’s Kathmandu Valley, researcher Narayan Prasad Koju was independently studying pangolins. He set up camera traps at night, collected droppings, and ran DNA tests. His results suggested the pangolins in Nepal were genetically distinct from those in China. He wrote a report in 2018 to Nepal’s Ministry of Education, Science and Technology, but with limited funding and sample size, he didn’t have enough evidence to make a formal claim.For a while, these two threads—Myanmar’s mysterious MPB lineage and Nepal’s unusual pangolin genetics—remained separate stories.

Connecting Nepal to Myanmar: “We realized they were the same”

The link came through Kai He, a biologist who had known Koju for years. In 2020, there was almost no genetic information about pangolins from western Myanmar, Nepal and northeastern India. When Koju sent him gene sequences from Nepal, Kai compared them to the MPB sequences from smuggled scales on the Myanmar border.They matched.It was a pivotal moment. The same genetic lineage was present in seized scales from Myanmar and in wild pangolins from Nepal. He and Koju suspected they weren’t looking at an odd variant of the Chinese pangolin—they were looking at a distinct species.To prove it, they turned to museums.They contacted major collections in the U.S. and Europe, asking for images and measurements of pangolin specimens. One image from a London museum came with a label neither of them recognized: Manis aurita.Until that moment, Koju said, they had no idea Hodgson had once described a “new” pangolin species from Nepal, nearly 200 years earlier.

Reading Hodgson’s words with new eyes

Curious, they searched the name online and found Hodgson’s original 1836 description in the Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal. Two features stood out for him: the presence of distinct external ears, and an unusually high number of scales.“The external ear, though small, is perfectly distinct,” Hodgson had written, noting that the specimen had “23 [scales] for the neck and body alone; there being also 10 for the head, and 19 for the tail”—more scales than any pangolin known at the time.

On that basis, he named it auritus, and tucked Plurisquamis into the same paragraph as a backup.Later zoologists revised the name to aurita to fit the feminine gender of Manis. But by 1918, the animal was demoted to a subspecies. By 1951, it had been quietly folded into the Chinese pangolin and lost its separate identity. Its name and description remained buried in old journals and museum drawers, absent from modern databases and conservation lists.For Kai, Koju and their colleagues, Hodgson’s forgotten observation suddenly looked very relevant.

Five years of DNA, skulls and skins

A dusty name, however, wasn’t enough. They needed hard evidence.From 2019 to 2024, the team—now spanning 20 researchers from 12 institutions in seven countries—set about gathering it. They:- Extracted DNA from museum specimens in London, Chicago and Kunming, including the very skin Hodgson had sent to London in the 19th century.- Collected full genomes from 55 pangolins, plus mitochondrial DNA (mitogenomes) from 70 more.- Focused specifically on samples from the MPB lineage—seven of them, including Hodgson’s specimen.- Measured and compared 44 skulls and 26 skins, seven skulls and six skins belonging to the same lineage.They wanted to answer two questions:- Is this lineage genetically distinct from the Chinese pangolin and other known species?- Do the animals look different enough to be clearly recognized as a separate species?The answer to both was yes.Genetically, the MPB/Himalayan lineage formed its own branch, separate from the Chinese pangolin and the six other recognised species worldwide. Morphologically, it also showed consistent differences—confirming that what Hodgson had described was not just a quirky individual, but representative of a distinct species.

A naming race—and a dispute

Science, of course, rarely moves in a straight line. While Koju and Kai’s team were still waiting for complete DNA results from Hodgson’s specimen—delayed by the museum’s move to a new facility—another group reached a conclusion of their own.In early 2025, researchers led by Lenrik Konchok Wangmo published a paper describing what they believed was a brand‑new species, Manis indoburmanica, the “Indo‑Burmese pangolin,” based on mitochondrial DNA from confiscated scales. They didn’t reference aurita; that name existed only in old texts and lacked public DNA sequences to connect it to modern samples.Mukesh Thakur, a co‑author of that study, later explained that their choice reflected the limits of available information.

Aurita wasn’t in major databases, hadn’t been recognized by the IUCN, and no genetic data were publicly tied to that name. “When we didn’t know what aurita looked like, how could we say this is aurita?” he argued.Nomenclature rules, however, give priority to the oldest valid name. Mammalogist Jelle S. Zijlstra wrote a commentary pointing out that if Hodgson’s aurita could be shown to refer to the same species, it should take precedence.

Thakur’s team defended their description in a reply, and the debate simmered.Everything hinged on one specimen in a museum drawer.

The moment of proof: Hodgson’s animal speaks through its DNA

When the transfer of collections was complete, and DNA could finally be extracted from Hodgson’s original skin, the results were decisive. Its genetic profile matched the MPB lineage from Myanmar and Nepal.That meant:- The animal Hodgson described as Manis aurita in 1836 belongs to the same distinct lineage identified in modern smuggling busts and field surveys.- The lineage is a separate species, not just a variant of the Chinese pangolin.Under naming rules, Manis aurita—now called the Himalayan pangolin—has priority, while Manis indoburmanica becomes a junior synonym: a name that remains recorded in literature but is no longer used.The “Himalayan pangolin” label reflects more than Nepal alone. Koju favoured it because the species’ range likely stretches along the broader Himalayan foothills—from Nepal into western Myanmar and northeastern India—rather than being confined to a single country.

What this means for conservation—and for the pangolins themselves

For conservationists, this isn’t just a win for taxonomy. It changes how protection is planned.South Asia officially has two pangolin species: the Chinese and the Indian pangolin. Now, there is strong evidence for a third, the Himalayan pangolin. Each has different ranges, threats and genetic profiles, so lumping them together can hide real risks.The Chinese pangolin is already listed as “critically endangered” by the IUCN.

The Himalayan pangolin will likely qualify for the same status once formally assessed, given its limited range and heavy pressure from illegal trade.The new study also carries a warning: Himalayan pangolins in Kathmandu Valley show unusually high levels of inbreeding—signs that individuals are breeding with close relatives. That reduces genetic diversity, making populations more vulnerable to disease, environmental change and random shocks.To counter that, Koju recommends:- Protecting the existing Kathmandu population as a priority.- Where possible, introducing individuals from other parts of the species’ range to increase genetic diversity.- Conducting more field surveys in western Nepal and along the Myanmar border—areas that remain hard to access but may hold key populations.The IUCN Pangolin Specialist Group has not yet formally recognised the Himalayan pangolin as a new species; that process will take time.

Meanwhile, other research teams are already working on documenting at least two more potential new pangolin species in Southeast Asia. In other words, the pangolin family tree may still be missing branches.

Aurita, Plurisquamis—and what Hodgson got right

Brian Hodgson died in 1894, never knowing whether his “aurita” would stand the test of time, or whether his backup, Plurisquamis (“many‑scaled”), might someday be needed instead. For nearly 200 years, his chosen name was quietly buried, absorbed into the Chinese pangolin and forgotten by modern catalogues.As later scientists discovered, Cuvier had been wrong about one key detail: Asian pangolins do have external ears, not just Hodgson’s specimen. The feature Hodgson considered “remarkable” wasn’t unique. In that sense, his justification for aurita was flawed.But he had noticed something genuinely important: the animal’s scales. The Himalayan pangolin carries more scales than other species, and that distinctive “many‑scaled” nature turns out to be one of the traits that marks it as different.In the end, Plurisquamis remains what Hodgson intended—a quiet hedge, a private nod to the real uniqueness he sensed. Officially, the species now carries his original name: Manis aurita, the Himalayan pangolin. Unofficially, his second choice may have been closer to the truth of what made this animal special.A young naturalist’s hunch, a forgotten label in a museum, smuggled scales on a modern border, and years of patient genetic work have converged to restore a species that was almost erased from science.When you think about this story, what strikes you most—the persistence of one man’s 19th‑century observation, or the way illegal trade and modern technology combined to bring a hidden species back into view?