The challenge of fish migration in dammed rivers of the Neotropical region

One of the most outstanding features of the Neotropics is the presence of many large river basins, some of which harbour spectacular ecosystems, such as the Amazon River, the Orinoco River, and the Paraná River, each draining South America in different directions. Particularly noteworthy is the diversity of fish species found in these river systems, which is greater than those found in other continents, with estimates for the Amazon basin alone being over 2000 species, nearly half of which only occur in this region. Amongst this diversity, characins (Characiformes) and catfishes (Siluriformes) generally represent the highest species diversity and abundance. 

This plethora of fish species includes some that undertake amazing migrations. So far, migrations have been described for over 70 species in South America, a number that is expected to increase as more research is conducted within a region with long rivers and high seasonality. The aquatic environments of the Amazon basin are very varied not only due to its large coverage  (over six million sq. kilometres), but also due to differential rainfall resulting in seasonal flooding.  Hence, some fish species migrate up- and downstream to complete their life cycle, whereas others migrate between seasonally flooded plains and the main river channels. Combined with a genetic disposition, the main factors that modulate migration are rainfall patterns, light, and temperature. Fish migration is a complex phenomenon strongly associated with breeding behaviour. As a case in point, the goliath catfishes generally spawn in the western Amazon basin, closer to the Andes and up to 5000 kilometres away from the Atlantic Ocean. Eggs, larvae and juvenile fish drift downstream to the lower reaches of the basin, with some even settling in the Amazon River estuary, from where they undertake upstream migrations once they reach adulthood. 

Some of these migratory species are very important to the people that inhabit the Amazon basin, as they are a source of food and economic activity. It is estimated that about 80 percent of the annual commercial fisheries catch within this region corresponds to migratory fish. Examples include the pacú (Colossoma macropomum), which migrates between river channels and flooded plains, and the piramutaba (Brachyplatystoma vaillantii), a species of goliath catfish that migrates up- and downstream. This phenomenon is known as ‘Piracema’, an indigenous word for fish migration that means ‘river ascent’ (pira: fish; cema: uphill).

The future of these seemingly abundant migratory fish, however, is far from secure. Threats to fish populations in the Amazon basin are numerous—deforestation, overfishing, alteration of river courses, siltation, pollution, and introduction of exotic species, amongst others. However, the main threat to migratory fish is undoubtedly the interruption of water courses by hydroelectric dams, not only transforming free-flowing waters into still waters, but also interrupting fish migrations, such as the ones undertaken by the goliath catfishes. These dams change the flood pulse regime of rivers, cause artificial daily water level fluctuations, alter the interior natural circulation of the water body and temperature, bring biogeochemical changes, and increase turbidity, thereby reducing light penetration, with knock-on effects on food webs as primary productivity is compromised due to reduced photosynthetic activity. As the energy grid of South America is largely fed by river dams, with plans for expansion, disruption of migration will only worsen. 

Although the construction of dams in Brazilian rivers—which account for a large proportion of the Amazon basin—has been regulated by a policy framework that includes mitigation of threats to migratory fish, there remains uncertainty about the actual effectiveness of such policies for conserving these species. For instance, the design of some dams has included so-called fish passages, which indeed allow upstream movement of fish, but with little evidence of downstream movement. Additionally, the hatching and survival rates of fish born upstream of the reservoirs are unknown. Because the movements up- and downstream need to be completed in a cycle, dams are likely disrupting the life cycle of some migratory species, such as the goliath catfishes. A quick and superficial observation of the effectiveness of mitigation measures used in dam design is often illusory. For example, following the construction of the Salvajina dam, surviving adult fish provided food to local communities for some time in a section of the Cauca River in Colombia; however, the fish populations were ultimately depleted as there was no replenishment through breeding. 

Looking ahead, the conservation of migratory fish in the Amazon basin is not only being hampered by human activities, but also by a general lack of knowledge. First, our understanding of the fish diversity of the Amazon basin is still growing, as species continue to be discovered, which means we could be potentially losing species without knowing. Second, those species already described generally lack data on population status and trends, two pieces of information that are vitally important to inform conservation priorities and specific actions. And third, the migratory patterns of fish in the Amazon basin continue to be described, meaning that there are still large gaps in our knowledge that need to be filled,  before we can truly understand how dams and other human activities can impact their survival. Migratory fish are a very complex and fragile evolutionary group due to the heterogeneity of environments associated with their life cycles. Importantly, migratory fish could be considered as an umbrella species for conserving freshwater biodiversity, and thus have the potential to drive international conservation policies across the Amazon basin and other large river basins in the Neotropics and beyond.

Click here to read the article in Portuguese.

This article is from issue

15.4

2021 Dec

O desafio da migração de peixes em rios barrados da Região Neotropical (Português)

This article was translated to Portuguese by Eduardo Gallo-Cajiao.  Click here to read the original article in English.

Uma das características mais marcantes dos Neotrópicos é a presença de muitas bacias hidrográficas grandes, algumas das quais abrigam ecossistemas espetaculares, como as dos rios Amazonas, Orinoco e Paraná, cada um drenando a América do Sul em diferentes direções. Particularmente notável é a diversidade de espécies de peixes encontradas nesses sistemas fluviais, que é maior do que as encontradas em outros continentes, com estimativas apenas para a bacia amazônica de mais de 2.500 espécies, das quais quase metade ocorre apenas nesta bacia. Dentre essa diversidade, caracídeos (Characiformes) e bagres (Siluriformes) representam a maior diversidade e abundância de espécies.

Essa infinidade de espécies de peixes inclui algumas que realizam migrações incríveis. Até agora, foram descritas migrações para aproximadamente 70 espécies na América do Sul, número que deverá aumentar à medida que mais pesquisas forem realizadas em uma região com rios longos e de alta sazonalidade. Os ambientes aquáticos da bacia amazônica são muito variáveis não apenas devido à sua grande cobertura (mais de seis milhões de quilômetros quadrados), mas também devido às diferentes chuvas que resultam em inundações sazonais. Assim, algumas espécies de peixes migram rio acima e outras rio abaixo para completar seu ciclo de vida, enquanto outras migram entre planícies inundadas sazonalmente entre os principais canais dos rios. Combinados com uma disposição genética, os principais fatores que modulam a migração são os padrões de chuva, fotoperiodo e temperatura. A migração dos peixes é um fenômeno complexo fortemente associado ao comportamento reprodutivo. Como exemplo, os grandes bagres geralmente desovam na bacia amazônica ocidental, mais perto dos Andes e até 5.000 quilômetros de distância do Oceano Atlântico. Ovos, larvas e os peixes juvenis derivam rio abaixo para as áreas inundadas no curso inferior da bacia, com alguns até se estabelecendo no estuário do rio Amazonas, de onde realizam migrações rio acima quando atingem a idade adulta.  

Algumas dessas espécies migratórias são muito importantes para os povos que habitam a bacia amazônica, pois são fonte de proteina e atividade econômica. Estima-se que cerca de 80 por cento da pesca comercial anual nesta região corresponda a peixes migratórios. Exemplos incluem o pacú (Colossoma macropomum), que migra entre canais de rios e planícies alagadas, e a piramutaba (Brachyplatystoma vaillantii), uma espécie de bagre-golias que migra rio acima e abaixo. Migração esta chamada de ‘Piracema’, pelos indígenas (língua tupi) que significa ‘subida do rio’.

No entanto, o futuro desses peixes migratórios aparentemente abundantes, está longe de ser seguro. As ameaças às populações de peixes na bacia amazônica são inúmeras—como desmatamento, pesca predatória, alteração dos cursos dos rios, assoreamento, poluição e introdução de espécies exóticas, entre outras. No entanto, a principal ameaça aos peixes migratórios é, sem dúvida, a interrupção dos cursos d’água por hidrelétricas, não apenas transformando as águas de fluxo livre em águas paradas, mas também interrompendo as migrações de peixes, como as realizadas pelos bagres-golias. Essas barragens alteram o regime de pulso de inundação dos rios, causar flutuações diárias artificiais do nível da água,  alterando a circulação natural interna do corpo d’água e a temperatura, trazem alterações biogeoquímicas e, com isso, reduzindo ou aumentando a turbidez, alterando a penetração da luz, com efeitos indiretos nas teias alimentares, em alguns casos alterando a produtividade primária é comprometida devido à redução da atividade fotossintética. Como a rede de energia da América do Sul é amplamente alimentada por barragens fluviais, com planos de expansão, a interrupção da migração só vai piorar.

Embora a construção de barragens nos rios brasileiros—que respondem por grande parte da bacia amazônica—tenha sido regulamentada por uma estrutura política que inclui a mitigação das ameaças aos peixes migratórios, permanece a incerteza sobre a real eficácia de tais políticas para a conservação dessas espécies. Por exemplo, o projeto de algumas barragens incluiu as chamadas passagens de peixes, que de fato permitem o movimento dos peixes a montante, mas com pouca evidência de movimento a jusante. Além disso, as taxas de eclosão e sobrevivência dos peixes nascidos a montante dos reservatórios são desconhecidas. Como os movimentos a montante e a jusante precisam ser concluídos em um ciclo, as barragens estão interrompendo o ciclo de vida de algumas espécies migratórias, como os bagres-golias. Uma observação rápida e superficial da eficácia das medidas de mitigação utilizadas no projeto de barragens é muitas vezes ilusória. Por exemplo, após a construção da barragem de Salvajina, peixes adultos sobreviventes forneceram alimentos às comunidades locais por algum tempo em uma seção do rio Cauca na Colômbia; no entanto, as populações de peixes acabaram por se esgotar, pois não houve recrutamento..

Olhando para o futuro, a conservação de peixes migratórios na bacia amazônica está sendo prejudicada não apenas pelas atividades humanas, mas também por uma falta geral de conhecimento. Primeiro, nossa compreensão da diversidade de peixes da bacia amazônica ainda está crescendo, à medida que as espécies continuam a ser descobertas, o que significa que estamos perdendo espécies sem conhece-las. Em segundo lugar, a maioria das espécies já descritas carecem de dados sobre o status e as tendências populacionais, duas informações que são de vital importância para informar as prioridades de conservação e ações específicas. E terceiro, os padrões migratórios de peixes na bacia amazônica continuam a ser descritos, o que significa que ainda existem grandes lacunas em nosso conhecimento que precisam ser preenchidas, antes que possamos realmente entender como as barragens e outras atividades humanas podem afetar sua sobrevivência. Os peixes migradores constituem um grupo muito complexo e frágil devido à heterogeneidade de ambientes associados aos seus ciclos de vida. É importante ressaltar que os peixes migratórios podem ser considerados uma espécie guarda-chuva para a conservação da biodiversidade de água doce e, portanto, têm o potencial de impulsionar políticas internacionais de conservação em toda a bacia amazônica e outras grandes bacias hidrográficas nos neotrópicos e além.

This article is from issue

15.4

2021 Dec

Conserving Riverine Cetaceans

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Large animals (“megafauna”) around the world are under pressure from human activities, and many well-known species are threatened with extinction. Of all the megafauna, species that live in freshwater are particularly threatened. For these animals, human-produced changes are intense and protected areas are lacking. For example, all freshwater cetaceans (aquatic mammals) in the world are endangered. They often live in a single large river basin and, thus, naturally have very restricted ranges, making them especially vulnerable.

China’s longest river, the Yahtzee, is one of the busiest shipping routes in the world and has been a main thoroughfare for Chinese commerce for thousands of years. But shipping traffic poses great pressures on aquatic megafauna in terms of collisions and disturbance of habitat, including noise pollution, which is particularly threatening to cetaceans that use echolocation. One freshwater cetacean, the Yahtzee River Dolphin (Lipotes vexillifer) is already extinct. New research is now focused on the remaining species, the Yangtze Finless Porpoise (Neophocoena asiaorientalis). 

Mei et al., 2021, investigated the distributional overlap of porpoises and cargo ships in a busy 650 km section of Yangtze River, comparing data from 2017 with 2012 and 2006 data. Using boat-based surveys, they measured the distance of porpoises from river banks and sand bars, and also determined the positions of boats with satellite imagery. The researchers found that the areas within 300 metres of river banks are important habitats for porpoises and accounted for 54 percent of sighting records. However, this same area close to the banks overlapped with where 62 percent of ships travelled upstream, in order to avoid the strong current. Moreover, the percentage of porpoises observed within this preferred area significantly decreased from 2006 to 2017, suggesting that the porpoises are changing their habitat selection due to the shipping activity.

The authors found that shipping increased 65 percent from 2006–2017, which indicates the urgent need to conserve the porpoise. The authors recommend restricting vessels to travel within designated channels that are less preferred by porpoises, and protecting areas that are frequently used by porpoise near sandbars. The authors also call for similar research on other megafauna living in the great rivers of the world, as the amount of shipping is expected to further increase throughout the next century.

Further Reading

Mei, Z., Y. Han, S. T. Turvey, J. Liu, Z. Wang, G. Nabi, M. Chen et al. 2021. Mitigating the effect of shipping on freshwater cetaceans: The case study of the Yangtze finless porpoise. Biological Conservation 257: 109132.

Photographs by Wei Ye(韦晔).

This RIT is part of a series: ‘Letters from China’, which periodically summarises new research from ecology and conservation from China. It is curated by Dr. Eben Goodale, Professor at the College of Forestry, Guangxi University, China, with editorial support from Dr. Krishnapriya Tamma, Assistant Professor, Azim Premji University, India. Click on the ‘Letters from China’ tag above the article title to read other RITs in this series. 

Insights for conservation through sustainable degrowth

Unlimited economic growth, necessary to sustain present-day capitalist societies, requires continued and ever-increasing consumption of materials and energy. This economic growth (which we will hereafter refer to as ‘growth’) has profoundly transformed a large portion of Earth and negatively impacted biodiversity. The expansion of intensive agriculture, forestry, fisheries, aquaculture, industry, urbanization, and transport are some of the economic activities that are currently altering most of our ecosystems. We reviewed sustainability literature and some of the most important biodiversity agreements, such as the Strategic Plans for Biodiversity, to describe the current nature of the relationship between growth and biodiversity. Our paper also offers potential solutions to current social and ecological problems, built around the idea of sustainable degrowth.

Historically, much of sustainability literature has considered growth to be essential for protection of biodiversity. Growth is said to increase profits for capital by promoting technological efficiency, while reducing the use of materials, energy, and greenhouse gas emissions. Therefore, those in favour of it suggest that decoupling growth from environmental degradation and biodiversity loss is possible. However, a body of emerging evidence demonstrates devastating impacts on biodiversity caused by resource extraction associated with growth. Despite this evidence, even the most recent sustainable development ideas still suggest that continued economic expansion is compatible with planetary boundaries and argue for the pursuit of conservation through continued growth. One of those ideas can be found in the EU proposal for a “Green New Deal” encouraging “technological green growth” to fight climate change. Growth is also advocated in the recent and most influential international policy documents and agreements on sustainability and biodiversity, such as the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development and the post-2020 Global Biodiversity Framework.

Today’s conservation policies are almost exclusively based on economic principles, including sustainable use of biodiversity, ecosystem service maintenance, economic value of natural capital and nature’s role in supporting economic activity. With future international programs for biodiversity conservation to be negotiated, it is paramount to revisit the global biodiversity agenda and improve its effectiveness. Much of the planned focus for biodiversity protection is centred around area-based conservation measures and the amount of land and sea that needs to be set aside from production. Such conservation measures go from the Nature Needs Half and the Half-Earth proposals, aimed to conserve half of the planet, to the Whole Earth plan, a more holistic initiative suggesting moving away from growth-oriented strategies. These differing alternatives are currently causing heated debates and rifts between conventional, growth-focused conservationists and the emerging ones, aiming to divorce conservation from capitalism.

It is evident that capitalism is incompatible with biodiversity protection and that current growth-driven conservation programs are highly ineffective for protecting biodiversity. More effective biodiversity conservation can be achieved through a global sustainable degrowth strategy, by reducing exploitation of resources and environmental degradation. Sustainable degrowth should be promoted through socially-responsible and environmentally-friendly practices, reduction and removal of the existing harmful activities and promotion of new sustainable, growth-free and shared prosperity goals without growth. For example, and more specifically, a sustainable degrowth strategy should focus on developing a just energy transition and reducing waste by reusing and recycling the product components, promoting agroecology and improving health and education services. Ultimately, for a more inclusive, safe, and just society, introduction of different goals into the current conservation agenda is timely and crucial. 

We strongly believe that a global sustainable degrowth strategy would effectively halt biodiversity loss and enhance ecological conditions, while improving human well-being. Sustainable degrowth would also help us adapt to a future with fewer resources and increasing social conflicts. It is time to transcend capitalism and find other ways of social organisation and development that are ecologically and socially healthier. A good example of a socially desirable organisation, while on a small scale, comes from the Kichwa people of Sarayaku in Ecuador, living in harmony with the natural world of the Amazonian rainforest. It is unlikely that urban societies could ever achieve the same level of unity with nature as an Amazonian tribe, but if we do not strive towards it, environmental destruction and biodiversity loss will soon become irreversible.

Further Reading

Moranta, J., C. Torres, I. Murray, M. Hidalgo, H. Hilmar, A. Gouraguine. 2021. Transcending capitalism growth strategies for biodiversity conservation. Conservation biology. doi: https://doi.org/10.1111/cobi.13821

Torres, C., J. Moranta and I. Murray. 2022. The construction of a growth-oriented global climate agenda: a critical historical analysis. Investigaciones Geográficas, 77:161-180. https://doi.org/10.14198/INGEO.19351.

 Büscher, B. and R. Fletcher. 2020. The Conservation Revolution: Radical Ideas for Saving Nature beyond the Anthropocene. Verso, London. https://www.versobooks.com/books/3149-the-conservation-revolution.

Otero, I., K. N. Farrell, S. Pueyo, G. Kallis, L. Kehoe, H. Haberl, C. Plutzar et al. 2020. Biodiversity policy beyond economic growth. Conservation Letters, 13: e12713. (Volume number also omitted).  https://doi.org/10.1111/conl.12713

Photograph: https://pxhere.com/

Where have the birds gone? On declining urban bird diversity 

If you live in a bustling metropolitan city, you may want to think over the following questions: When did you last see a woodpecker hammering its beak on a tree outside your window? Or a bee-eater chasing insects in flight with dexterity? Have you wondered why avian diversity in the city is dominated by certain species? This makes you wonder—where have all the other birds gone?

Species diversity indicates the health of an ecosystem. If so, how healthy are our urban areas? Who survives in the city and why? Earlier last year, a group of researchers addressed this in a review paper titled ‘What traits influence bird survival in the city?’. This is an extensively studied topic, and the review evaluated the current status of bird diversity in our urban neighbourhoods. It is imperative for us to learn how cities can become better ecosystems for birds as urbanisation rapidly increases. 

Which bird species survive in an urban landscape depends on various traits ranging from what they eat to how they sing. Bird diversity and abundance is influenced by several factors, such as diet, habitat, and even competition with other species. Experts suggest that generalist species that can cope with a city’s challenging environment survive better and occupy more nesting spaces. They not only acquire basic food and shelter, but also act as competitors to migratory species who arrive seasonally. Chances of a species surviving reduce even further if they are specialists—birds that have specific habitat requirements and diets. For example, ground nesting birds are more affected by infrastructure development, habitat change, and urbanisation, than those that nest in tree holes or nest boxes. 

Urban birds differ in size, colour, and body mass from those occurring in natural habitats. Their diet and the cityscape influence their appearance. With ample resources, they reproduce in large broods and don’t have to accumulate large amounts of body fat. Relatively high temperatures in the city and low quality of food affects their body size and mass. Thus, birds in the city are known to be smaller than those in rural areas, with a few exceptions.

Birds are also impacted by noise and light pollution, which create stressful environments for them. One of the best described examples is the impact of noise pollution on the dawn chorus, where the males of four out of five songbird species residing near street lights are known to sing earlier in the day. Known as the Lombard effect, evidence also suggests that some species increase the amplitude of their songs in order to be heard above the ambient noise in cities.

A significant difference in the behaviour of urban birds has also been noticed. Due to their dependence on food produced by humans, many birds like gulls are known to adjust their activity according to human activities, such as school breaks or the opening of a waste centre. Urban birds are also more susceptible to aggression due to the presence of chemicals such as lead, unlike rural birds. 

Thus, multiple selection pressures exclude many bird species and affect their diversity in urban areas. Conserving and maintaining native habitats and water bodies, such as lakes, can go a long way in providing homes to our feathered friends. Additionally, ensuring that cats and dogs are unable to access birds or their nests is important. Urban planners and park managers need to work with citizens and scientists on this. After all, a collective effort to restore biodiversity can ensure a healthy ecosystem that supports us and our non-human neighbours. 

Further Reading

Patankar, S., R. Jambhekar, K. Suryawanshi, H. Nagendra. 2021. Which traits influence bird survival in the city? A review. Land 10: 92. https://doi.org/10.3390/land10020092

Photographs: Anushka Kawale and Ashish Kawale

Trophy’s choice: How the link between trophy hunting and white land ownership challenges notions of community empowerment in Namibia

 

Featured image credit: Bildarchiv der Deutschen Kolonialgesellschaft, Universitätsbibliothek Frankfurt am Main (urn:nbn:de:hebis:30:2-509343)

As soon as trophy hunting is mentioned, words such as ‘divisive’, ‘emotive’ or ‘polarising’ are dispatched as caveats to any interlocutor brazen enough to wander into these contested waters. And for good reason. The debate is revived every time photographic evidence of a successful hunt surfaces or motions to ban the import of trophies are tabled in foreign parliament. Generally, this infamous polarising force draws “pragmatic” conservationists to one pole and animal rights and/or welfare activists to the other. 

These conservationists argue that trophy hunting is an unfortunate means to an end but serves a vital purpose in conserving endangered megafauna—whether through revenue generation or the reservation of large undeveloped areas for this “sport”. Rights and welfare activists level sadism against it. Somewhere in between, other conservationists argue that not enough ecological or economic evidence can be presented to justify such an ethically dubious activity. And that is usually where the debate ends. Necessary compromise versus animal rights violation. Amidst this warring rhetoric, very little room is left for historical perspectives. Throughout this piece, I refer to trophy hunting within an African and more specifically a Namibian context. I am well aware that trophies are hunted across the globe, but Africa and its charismatic megafauna usually dominate public discourse on the matter—particularly on social media. At this point, we should highlight the intrinsic causal link between the conservation movement, tourism and trophy hunting in Africa. All are vestiges of colonialist endeavours.

Whichever way you try to approach this debate, we are largely left with governments, celebrities, activists, and researchers in the Global North pontificating over the best interests of communities standing to gain or lose the most from structural adaptations. And it is with this pervasive absurdity that I would like to present an often-overlooked argument. A lot of what I reference in this piece is anecdotal. Therefore, this should not be interpreted as an attempt to weigh up empirical evidence, but rather as a perspective which bears further scrutiny beyond the quantifiable which feeds into much wider social complexities.

I write this as a conservation scientist, yes, but more importantly as a descendant of settler-colonialists in an African country. As far as Germany’s colonial exploits go, none were more successful than German South West Africa (now Namibia)—partly reflected in the dominion of our fractional demographic in present-day Namibia. This relates especially to land: at about one percent of Namibia’s population, the Germanophone populace still controls a disproportionately large fraction of commercial farmland in the country. An estimated 70 percent of commercial freehold land is still white-owned. Moreover, colonial land expropriation in Namibia was aggravated and consolidated beyond German hegemony, with Afrikaner nationalism taking its place in the white power void that the Allies felt needed filling after World War I. Only in 1990 was Namibia officially declared independent, after being subjected to South Africa’s oppressive and segregationist rule for most of the 20th century.  

Image credits: Mikael Tham (License: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en)

The land question has been looming large since Namibia’s independence but loud promises of restorative justice have fallen well short of the proclaimed mark. With Germany’s federal government recently having tabled a reconciliation agreement, which apparently also makes provisions for land acquisition, the issue of land distribution has once again been pulled into focus. A reconciliatory hand was extended as a result of Germany’s efforts to exterminate Ovaherero and Nama nations during its colonial rule in the early 1900s. However, the gesture was overwhelmingly dismissed by affected communities, who have lamented not only its inadequacy and insincerity, but also their exclusion from its drafting. This significant link between land ownership and trophy hunting is usually omitted from the public debate, which prompted this essay.

Image credits: Thomas Schoch (License: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en )

Because the Namibian government has been dragging its feet on land reform, German rural communities continue to exist in geographically, and consequently, socially isolated settings, where there is a very limited urge to make the intended transition into a non-racial state. In fact, much like the land ownership that has been handed down through generations, attitudes that drove territorial expropriation remain intact. White rural communities represent (unwanted) time capsules—their swathes of fenced-in territory having served as effective refuges of white power across generations. I speak even more confidently on this matter because my own family owned land here for close to a century. It’s hard to overstate how strong a thread both land ownership and trophy hunting are of German-speaking society’s fabric in Namibia. Approximately a quarter of all freehold land is utilised for the trophy hunting enterprise. And none of this should be romanticised—a temptation many people, both eagerly and unknowingly, succumb to. 

Image credits: Herbert Charles O’Neill; Publisher: London Longmans, Green (1918)

I’ve witnessed a German hunting farm owner angrily close his dining room curtains on a black employee tending the garden, because he “didn’t need to see that over breakfast”. An anecdote that captures a largely homogenous ideological landscape among German farmers in Namibia. What this translates to on a socioeconomic scale, for example, has been partially captured by reports of unjust labour practices on Namibian farms, which I’ve also been witness to. A further example is the common practice within our (German) farming communities of urging white sellers not to sell their land to prospective black buyers, ensuring that the German grip on land is rarely, if ever willingly, loosened. With all this coloniality in perpetuum, hunters from the Global North are treated to a characteristically colonial experience. And therein lies its appeal. It would be incredibly naïve of us to ignore this and the associated demographic contours that define the Namibian trophy hunting community. Overwhelmingly, it consists of white men from Europe and North America being guided and hosted by white men (in Namibia at least). For example, Europeans and Americans (United States) made up 96 percent of Namibia’s trophy hunters in 2000. 

Image credits: Hanspeter Baumeler (Licence: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en )

A project sponsored by the Namibia Tourism Board sought to help develop trophy hunting among non-white farmers. In its proposal published in 2013, the authors reported that, at the time, only one out of 555 trophy hunting operators was not white. Seven privately- and black-owned farms were identified as well-positioned to develop hunting-based revenue streams. According to one of the project’s collaborators, three of these are now operational. This attempt at diversifying the trophy hunting industry in Namibia (even with a 100 percent adoption rate) can hardly be classed as a success.

Given the above, it’s imperative to highlight that it’s not only black African communities who stand to benefit from trophy hunting, as it is so popularly framed. Namibia’s hunting industrial complex is controlled by Afrikaans and German men (with rare exceptions), which relates to capital and the racialised socio-economic disparities it aggravates. These characteristics apply to organisations like the Namibia Professional Hunting Association (NAPHA), which among other things lobbies for favourable environmental policies in the country. A closer look at the tab titled “Conservation” on the NAPHA website reveals how little effort is put into dressing the practice in the more morally sound disguise that conservation offers. The information is merely broken down into huntable species, an award system and a section displaying decorated trophies—it is hard to extract any conservation context from it. This is also evident in careless rebrands, with terms like “ethical hunting” or “conservation hunting” commonplace now. NAPHA was established to protect the white man’s right to hunt and little, if anything, has changed.

 

Image credits: Bildarchiv der Deutschen Kolonialgesellschaft, Universitätsbibliothek Frankfurt am Main (urn:nbn:de:hebis:30:2-478591)

Those conservationists from the Global North jumping to trophy hunting’s defence profess support for African communities. If that is indeed the case, then (at the very least) acknowledging the raw white supremacy forming the bedrock of the industry in countries like Namibia, should assume a pivotal position in any related discussions. And yes, it is systemic. Wrapped in a hodgepodge of coloniality and white saviourism, the Edenic lure of the continent attracts hunters and scientists alike. Truly helping rural communities across Africa forge a path of self-determination should surely come with the concession that this might come at the expense of hunting or research opportunities. 

I find it impossible to align myself with a domain where noisy proclamations of community support are followed by hushed racial slurs. Since trophy hunting has been handed the long end of the economic lever within Namibia’s community-based conservation, it is difficult to argue for its immediate abolishment—given the livelihoods at stake. And its reduction is unlikely to be achieved through import bans or economic innovation within a political climate designed to neglect the very communities that conservationists like to burden with the expectation of economic prudence—under the auspices of environmental protection. Instead, the heavy reliance on trophy hunting, its cousins (i.e., tourism) and their ideological baggage should diminish as a consequence of societal evolution. And this will require us to expand our collective socio-political imagination. 

Far be it from me to speak on behalf of people standing to lose livelihoods as a consequence of the immediate abolishment of trophy hunting. And that was never my intention here. This shouldn’t be considered a critique of trophy hunting’s environmental merits but rather a critical assessment of its character. This should also not be interpreted as ammunition for anti-hunting campaigners trying to impose their distorted Western ideals on African lives. This merely serves as a testament to the fact that the industry’s influential actors (in Namibia) do not prioritise African people’s best interests—and a disproportionate dependency on trophy hunting should not obscure that. For all the money hunters are willing to spend on trophies, a hidden cost is dignity, and conservationists turning a blind eye in the name of pragmatism risk complicity. By its nature, trophy hunting will always pursue the conquest of Africa, its wildlife, and its people.

Click here to read a different perspective on trophy hunting in Namibia.

Rural Namibians respond to anti-hunting campaigns

Hunting is one of the most controversial issues in conservation today, particularly what is known as “trophy hunting” whereby the hunter pays a premium to hunt animals with particularly impressive features (for example, horns, tusks, antlers, etc.). As with many things in conservation, hunting is a complex topic. The debate becomes particularly sharp around charismatic species, such as elephants and the big cats. These are among the most cherished species by animal-lovers globally; yet they are also among the most difficult to conserve due to the substantial conflict they cause with rural people. 

Unfortunately, hunting debates often occur among activists, scientists, and policy makers, with little or no space created for the people who are directly affected by wildlife to contribute their views. With limited access to the Internet and significant language barriers, rural Africans are rarely seen airing their opinions on social media. It is therefore much easier for policy makers to listen to well-organised lobby groups that run multi-million dollar media campaigns, rather than take the time to visit people who have direct experience with hunting in their communities. The lived experience of rural Africans is therefore overlooked in favour of whoever can catch the attention of politicians.

When preparing their Elephant Management Plan in 2020, the Namibian government sought to do things differently. They wanted to capture some of the views from their rural communities on elephants—specifically on how to manage them and what to do about trophy hunting. The consultations for this plan therefore included many meetings with communal conservancies: community-based institutions that have been granted conditional ownership rights over wildlife that occur within their jurisdiction (their boundaries are mapped, but not fenced). Between meetings, people from the conservancies were interviewed in small groups using a questionnaire relating to elephant management. 

Most of the respondents were part of the daily management (staff members, including field staff) or oversight (committee members) of their communal conservancy. As residents and managers in conservancies, these interviewees have both first-hand experiences of living with wildlife and a detailed understanding about how hunting works in their conservancies. In our experience, when rural Africans are given a chance to speak their truth they are forthright and insightful; the transcripts from these interviews did not disappoint!

Among the many elephant-related questions, interviewees were asked what would happen if elephant hunting were banned entirely and what they would like to say to anti-hunting campaigners if they were given the opportunity. In response to a hypothetical scenario of elephant hunting being banned, these conservancy representatives had a distinctly gloomy outlook: 

“No income to the Conservancy, end of the CBNRM programme, no employment for people, livelihood upliftment will decline, hunger and poverty will become worse, conservancy offices will be closed down, and their assets will be repossessed.” 

“The human-wildlife conflict will increase, poaching will sky rocket.” 

“It will kill our conservancy. Elephant hunting generates the most income.” 

“The human elephant conflict will increase. We will lose income and an important source of protein. The cost of managing elephants will increase, a significant challenge for the conservancy.”

“We depend on generating income from elephant hunting which we invest back into the conservation of the species. If we stop hunting elephants, poaching will rise because the conservancy will not have any income to contribute the livelihood of its community. We have about 40 people who are employed by the conservancy and their salaries come from elephant hunting proceeds. If conservancies are not functioning, other species will also suffer.”

It is clear that the conservancy representatives are concerned about the long-term sustainability of their conservation efforts, if elephant trophy hunting were no longer allowed. Conservancies employ community game guards and several other officers that keep the conservancy running; the game guards are tasked with detecting wildlife crime, reporting human-wildlife conflict, and environmental monitoring.

 

Dam damaged by elephants

Besides operating costs, conservancies dedicate a portion of their budget each year to projects that provide benefits for their members. Such projects include water installations, support to schools in the form of food and extra classrooms, kindergartens, transport of the elderly or sick to town, electrification of villages, scholarships to their best students, protection of water installations and other infrastructure against elephants, offsetting human-wildlife conflict and more. Since the respondents know how much money comes into their conservancy in general, and from elephant hunting in particular, their chief concern is that their conservancies would no longer function, with many foreseeable negative consequences. 

Several respondents also fear that if there were no elephant hunting there would be more conflict with this species. Conservancies further generate intangible benefits by giving communities a sense of ownership over their wildlife by actively including them in conservation action and decision-making. These intangible benefits are difficult to measure, yet several respondents indicated that their community would no longer be willing to live with elephants and other dangerous wild animals if conservancies collapsed. 

Given their dire predictions of the consequences of hunting bans, it was not surprising to find some strong messages from conservancy representatives addressed to anti-hunting campaigners: 

“While we respect their freedom of expression and democracy, they should bear in mind that should they continue with their campaigns against regulated hunting then they are indirectly campaigning for the end of CBNRM, increased poaching and killings…These campaigners must understand that exerting power without assuming responsibility is colonial and unacceptable. Where are the alternatives for us who bear the costs?”

“They should not come here and dictate us. We have our own rights to our resources. Elephant hunting has brought development in our community, such as electrification, hostels, kindergartens, water points, community office. If it were not for elephant hunting there could be no development.”

“We cannot stop hunting elephants because our conservation strategy depends upon it. People conserve and are willing to live with the elephants only if they are benefitting from them. If these people are willing to finance our developmental projects and provide us with mitigation measures, we can stop hunting.”

“They should come down and live with us to understand what elephants are, because many of these people sit elsewhere in their offices, looking at elephants on television. Come down and talk to us so we can share our views. What happened to their animals now that they are so concerned with our elephants and what we do?”

This is a small sample of the stinging rebukes levelled at campaigners who want to ban elephant hunting. While some respondents focused on the material impacts of reduced income and a potential increase in conflict with elephants, others spoke to bigger issues of self-determination and their rights to manage elephants. Anti-hunting campaigners were perceived to be out of touch with reality and their insistence on interfering with African wildlife management was cast as colonial and overbearing. 

Yet the conservancy respondents revealed no ideological commitment to trophy hunting itself—they were quite happy to consider alternative forms of income, if the anti-hunting campaigns would offer these solutions. Many of these conservancies also engaged in joint venture tourism operations, which provide employment for people from their communities and opportunities for selling crafts and other local products. While anti-hunting activists frequently propose tourism as an alternative to hunting, none of the respondents indicated that these two industries were incompatible or that one could entirely replace the other. The meat gained from hunting was frequently mentioned as a benefit, which could not be generated from tourism. Furthermore, most new conservancies and even established ones that are not attractive for photographic tourism only generate income from hunting, which explains why one respondent said that a hunting ban would “kill” their conservancy.

Among the many things that struck us while reading through the 42 interview transcripts was how well the conservancy representatives articulated their issues, which brought home the need to introduce these perspectives to a wider audience. It further highlighted the severe power imbalances and consequent communication gap between the people on the ground and decision-makers internationally. These imbalances are spectacularly exposed at the Conference of Parties (CoP) for the Convention of International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES). When two conservancy representatives attended the last CITES CoP, they felt overwhelmed: 

“I noticed that a lot of people that attended were not from Africa. I felt so small because my presence will not be valued anymore because of the colour of my skin.” 

Yet even among the African delegates, they felt isolated: 

“In Africa it was only the SADC countries that were on one side, it was sad to see that our African counterparts such as central, east and west African countries were on the other side. We felt so little. It was as if our voices and experiences didn’t matter anymore.”

Southern Africa is the last great stronghold for savannah elephants, where they are not only surviving, but thriving. Yet healthy, growing elephant populations are not easy to live with, as people in parts of Namibia can attest. The global public places great value on this large mammal, yet conserving it comes at substantial cost to local people. The practice of trophy hunting currently plays an important role in reducing that cost and providing at least some reason for African people to bear it. Those wanting to ban elephant hunting need to present suitable alternatives—not theories that sound good to other people who sit in offices far from African reality, but real income-generating options that work for the people who live with elephants.

This article was contributed with funding from Resource Africa.

Resource Africa supports rural African community efforts to secure their rights to access and use their natural resources in order to sustain their livelihoods. The interviews presented here were used with permission from the Ministry of Environment, Forestry and Tourism in Namibia.

Neither of the two authors or Resource Africa have any financial links to the trophy hunting industry.

Click here to read a different perspective on trophy hunting in Namibia.

Crossroads

Illustration: The Big Banana Fight by Deepika Nandan, Linoprint on banana leaf and digital illustration, September 2021

Traversing matrilineal passages 

tracking place memory linked instinct and senses 

their movements architect forests, shape ecosystems in footsteps 

collecting rainfall, becoming a breeding ground for the opportunistic and the connected

participants in a long journey, over millennia; who can blame the herd for desiring 

the cultivated, the cared for, the hybridized, the ubiquitous, the available

an archetypal accessory for troublesome primates in weekend cartoons: 

our food, our cookware, our shelter, our livelihood, our ceremony, our community

so essential we’ve hybridized the plant into sterility

protected it from raids with capture, poisoning, electrocution

when orderly plantations fragment migratory paths

conflict escalates frequently and urgently; fatalities accumulate across species

survival requires we mirror their adaptive, intergenerational wisdom

survival requires we coexist alongside 

– Jeanne Dodds

About this work:

Jeanne Dodds and Deepika Nandan have each written a descriptive ekphrastic poem in response to one another’s artworks. The guiding concepts linking both works of art and writing are the parallels between conflict and coexistence models across two unique species and locations. Jeanne’s work is informed by and critiques policies of grey wolf conservation in the United States, while Deepika’s visual work describes aspects of her research around the Asian elephant. This was part of a year-long collaboration as participants in the Creature Conserve Mentorship program, which is designed to provide a support system for artists, creative writers, and scientists as they collaborate and explore the human connection to nature, creating new pathways to a healthier world for all creatures

Read the other poem and artwork pair here.

More about the ‘Asian Elephant Conflict to Coexistence’ project: 

As the habitat of Asian elephants shrinks, tensions caused by human-elephant conflict cause immense economic and emotional stress to communities that live alongside megaherbivores. This conflict has claimed the lives of not only elephants, but also people, with estimates ranging from 100–300 people and 40–50 elephants killed annually in India. Given this context, understanding the impact of conflict on communities and ideating ways in which coexistence can be promoted is crucial. Exploring the material use of damaged crops, my work aims to shift human-elephant interactions from conflict to coexistence and ensure our harmonious living with these gentle giants.

Please visit Creature Conserve’s resource page on Human-Elephant Coexistence to learn more:
https://creatureconserve.com/human-elephant-coexistence

– Deepika Nandan

Useful or Removed

Illustration: Canis Lupus Coexistence by Jeanne M. Dodds, Watercolor, colored pencil, acrylic paint, paper collage; digital illustration, December 2021

Once living in harmony, alongside one another.

Humans and wolves together—coexisted. 

But then came ships, and an exploitative view of nature.

Wolves were then feared, hated.

Native peoples exterminated.

And wolves, extirpated.

Snatched land, snatched rights, disrupted balances,

Settled on now, their land, along with their animals.

Animals? 

Livestock, property, merchandise—claimed as their own.

No regard for their individual lives, just milk, meat, and bones. 

Cattle stocked, tagged, and numbered: defiled. 

On the other hand, a pack of wolves, untamed and wild.

They maintain the integrity of a landscape,

a healthy balanced ecosystem they create and shape.

Opportunistic and intelligent, sometimes prey on cattle,

only for their pack’s survival.

Causing financial losses, making them the target,

humankind’s rival.

“Destructive to useful animals owned by settlers”,

plan and plot to ‘remove’—kill all carnivores and predators.

Neck snares, bait traps, night hunting,

gunned down from helicopters.

Wolves are not just hunted 

they’re slaughtered.

– Deepika Nandan

About this work:

Deepika Nandan and Jeanne Dodds have each written a descriptive ekphrastic poem in response to one another’s artworks. The guiding concepts linking both works of art and writing are the parallels between conflict and coexistence models across two unique species and locations. Deepika’s visual work describes aspects of her research around the Asian elephant, while Jeanne’s work is informed by and critiques policies of grey wolf conservation in the United States. This was part of a year-long collaboration as participants in the Creature Conserve Mentorship program, which is designed to provide a support system for artists, creative writers, and scientists as they collaborate and explore the human connection to nature, creating new pathways to a healthier world for all creatures

Read the other poem and artwork pair here.

More about the ‘Canis lupus Coexistence’ project: 

There are few other-than-human animals as simultaneously revered and reviled as wolves. As a species, wolves have been subjected to a myriad of identities and moral judgements. This project examines varied positions from which wolves are regarded, in particular to redress the conflict-focused United States model of killing wolves in response to livestock predation by wolves, and instead suggesting a coexistence model using scientifically supported non-lethal deterrents. Works from the Canis Lupus Coexistence project illustrate both the problematic, violent nature of human-wolf conflict, as well as visualize methods to reduce animal harm, in support of a transition from conflict to coexistence with our wild and domestic kin. 

The subtle environmentalism in Ruskin Bond’s stories

After reading Ecology and Equity by Madhav Gadgil and Ramachandra Guha, a hard-hitting eye-opener on human-nature interactions, I went on a reading spree of nature-themed novels. Soon, I was in a picturesque town in the Himalayan foothills with my old friend Rusty, and his childhood friends—I was reading The Hidden Pool by Ruskin Bond. It was his first book for children, published way back in 1966. I then proceeded to read all of Bond’s books. Reading them again now as an adult, I found myself being pulled back to reality, rather than being drawn into a different world and living among the characters between the pages. Bond’s stories continue to resonate with current happenings, such as floods in many parts of India, COP26, the coal crisis, and conflicts with wildlife.

The Hidden Pool is a refreshing read. The simple writing is warm and welcoming. Laurie (aka Rusty) is an English boy who comes to a small hill station in northern India with his parents. There, he befriends Anil, a local boy, and Kamal, an orphan who sells odds and ends, hoping to attend college one day. While traipsing through the forest, Laurie comes across a “deep round pool of apple-green water”, replenished by a small waterfall. They name it “Laurie’s pool”, and decide to keep it a secret, known to no one but the animals in the jungle. The hidden pool becomes the cornerstone of their friendship, despite their many other adventures, where they come across beautiful birds, brazen bears, and charming villagers, listen to frightening folklore, and trek up the Pindari glacier.

But soon, it is time for Laurie to leave for London with his parents. The boys promise to meet at the pool when they are older. After a month, Kamal writes Laurie a letter saying, “The stream has changed its course and gone another way, and the bed of our stream was dry. There was no pool, only sand and rocks”. Anil muses that since the pool was Laurie’s discovery, it had disappeared after he left. He believes that the stream would start flowing again once he returns. 

Thus, The Hidden Pool ends with a twinge of bittersweet hope. But before I closed the book, I had a nagging doubt which made me flip through the pages to the first chapter. There, it was mentioned in passing and enclosed in parentheses, that Laurie had come to India as his “father had taken a job with a new hydroelectric project”. Was this a hidden message that the hydroelectric project that Laurie’s father had worked on was responsible for Laurie’s pool running dry? After all, the hydel project’s completion, Laurie’s family’s departure, and the hidden pool’s disappearance coincide. 

Today, this reminds the reader of the disputed hydel power projects in the Himalayas, seven of which were given the go-ahead in October despite protests. As reported by The Hindu, “The Uttarakhand Government has for decades, envisaged hydroelectric projects as the way forward to power the State, premised on the region’s undulating topography.” The floods in Uttarakhand in February this year killed at least 200 people, and ironically, damaged two hydel projects. Over five decades have passed since this short novel by Ruskin Bond was published. How much more time must pass before we realise that hydel projects are ravaging the Himalayas, the consequences of which range from the loss of a rendezvous point for fictional friends to a slew of human-made natural disasters in the real world?  

Speaking of floods, of which the world saw more than 200 during the pandemic, Angry River, published in 1972, is another Bond classic. The story revolves around Sita, a young girl who lives with her grandparents on a tiny river island. Her grandfather is a skilful fisherman, and Sita makes delicious fish curry. Their life is one of subsistence, and all three of them are illiterate. Her mother is long dead, and her father has gone to work in a factory in a faraway city. These snippets of information very subtly tell a story of their own: the lack of access to education in remote, rural areas and the increasing volume of internal migration (which is now projected to rise due to recurring natural disasters). 

When Sita’s grandmother falls gravely ill, her grandfather decides to row her across the river to the hospital at Shahganj, leaving Sita alone on the island. He instructs Sita on what to do if the river rises, for although it was only mid-July, there had been an unexpected surplus in rainfall (by comparison, 2021 saw a monsoon deficit in July, followed by a surplus). Sita notices the water level rising steadily. She sees people’s belongings and dead cattle being carried away by the muddy river. Although the story has a mythological flavour to it, it is extremely touching and relevant. Sita receives no official warning, and despite living in a precarious region, her family is not evacuated. She survives only because of her resourcefulness and a little timely help. But had she been alive today under the same conditions, she could easily have been one of the nearly 7000 people killed in floods in the last three years. 

Ruskin Bond’s writing transports us into the lives of ordinary people, and explores their livelihoods and interactions with nature. If Angry River assumes a wet and rainy setting, Dust on the Mountain is a story of dryness and drudgery. “Winter came and went, without so much as a drizzle. The hillside was brown all summer and the fields were bare.” Here again, the protagonist is a child, a 12-year-old boy called Bisnu. He lives with his mother and sister, and tends to their small plot of land. The plundering of the hills and their ecology is shown deftly through their eyes. Trees are cut by the hundreds, and man-made forest fires leave the mountains scarred. Quarrying is rampant. When the monsoon fails and food becomes scarce, Bisnu goes to Mussoorie to find a job. He sees destruction in the name of development throughout his bus journey there. An old man strikes up a conversation with Bisnu and says between his coughing fits, “Rich men from the cities come here and buy up what they want—land, trees, people!” 

Bisnu starts working at a tea shop in Mussoorie. When the holiday season dies down, he is again on the lookout for a job. He is employed as a cleaner by a truck driver. The truck had been deployed to carry limestone rocks from the quarries to the depot. Since this story is thrilling, I will refrain from dropping spoilers. But here is one line: “It’s better to grow things on the land than to blast things out of it.” It ends on a note of hope and course correction but not before highlighting the serious consequences of environmental degradation. Even the old man’s racking cough could have been an occupational hazard of working at the quarries. Forest fires, internal migration, child labour, class conflict, and loss of biodiversity as well as livelihoods—all just relevant now—are beautifully depicted in Dust on the Mountain.

Ruskin Bond’s writing is evergreen, but the verdant places he has written about are not. Here is an excerpt from his poem, Dirge for Dehradun

“I wonder where the green grass went? 

All buried under new cement. 

I wonder where the birds have flown? 

They’ve gone to find another home. 

[…]

What grows so fast before my eyes? 

A garbage dump, a million flies. 

Is this the place you celebrate? 

In prose you made it sound so great! 

It was … before I knew it’s fate.” 

Photos: Wikimedia commons

Where big mammals belong—the unfair burden to restore

People in the Global North often envision big, charismatic mammals—like lions, rhinos, or elephants—only belonging to countries in the Global South, such as in parts of Africa. But if you stepped into a time machine set for 10,000 to 50,000 years ago—a blink of an eye, evolutionarily speaking—you would find these animals, and many more, in parts of Europe and North America. Traditional conservation typically chooses to look back only 500 years ago as a reference point for understanding where plants and animals belong—the same time period Western Europeans began colonising and documenting environments globally. But with our biodiversity crisis severely worsening, a global deep-time perspective broadens our understanding of where big mammals also naturally belong, opening opportunities for big mammal restoration far beyond just the Global South.

If we think about environmental restoration as a global effort, having big mammals belonging only to countries in the Global South holds ethical and political baggage. People living in these frequently poorer countries are expected to coexist and tolerate conflicts with big mammals in their own backyards, all while facing social and economic precarities that far exceed those of the Global North. The Global North does indeed send significant financial support to the Global South for conservation, restoration, and human-animal coexistence. Yet still, big mammal protection and restoration remains dangerously underfunded. All of this creates an unfair restoration burden that holds poorer countries ultimately responsible for large mammal populations. But this unfair burden—anchored in the idea that large mammal restoration can only happen in the Global South—is being rethought. 

To explore the relationships between where big mammals were in the deep past to present day disparities between the Global North and South, Sophie Monsarrat and Jens-Christian Svenning from the Center for Biodiversity Dynamics in a Changing World, Aarhus University, created four maps of the globe. These maps show where large mammal restoration is distributed today compared to where this restoration burden would be if a reference point of 500, 6,000, or 10,000-50,000 years ago is used instead. They then overlaid these maps with three types of global data by country: financial abilities to support restoration; human development, such as education levels and life expectancy; and governance indicators, such as stability and corruption. Comparing these four maps gave them very interesting results. First, using a reference point of 500 years ago for where big mammals belong concentrates restoration for these animals in the Global South. Second, there is enormous potential for wealthier countries in the Global North to support big mammal restoration back home. According to Monsarrat, “on a global scale, there is an unfair restoration burden happening, and these maps show the hypocrisy taking place”. 

Overall, Monsarrat and Svenning’s study tells us that where big mammal restoration happens is a consequence of what reference point in time is arbitrarily chosen, carrying with it ethical and political implications. Choosing a reference point of just 500 years ago removes responsibility from countries in the Global North and places a hefty restoration burden on countries in the Global South and the people who live there. The UN has called 2021–2030 the decade for ecosystem restoration, and one-sided responsibilities need addressing now for the decade’s success. In terms of big mammal restoration, wealthier countries in the Global North need to strengthen efforts in the Global South—and also take responsibility for restoring and rewilding big mammals in their own backyards. Anything less will only continue an unfair and unjust restoration burden.

Further Reading

Monsarrat, S. and J.-C. Svenning. 2021. Using recent baselines as benchmarks for megafauna restoration places an unfair burden on the Global South. Ecography. https://doi.org/10.1111/ecog.05795

African conservation today: New trends, perspectives and opportunities

Introduction to the Current Conservation special issue on African Conservation

Rapid social, technological and environmental change are reshaping conditions for human societies all around the world. Over the past two years, the COVID-19 pandemic has amplifed the pace of change with an unprecedented scope of disruption, and, in many cases, social trauma. For conservation today, the watchwords of our time are urgency, scale, and entrepreneurship. Conservation efforts need to creatively address enormous challenges on a large scale, if they are to step up to address the realities of the unfolding climate and biodiversity crises.

Nowhere are these realities more pressing than in sub-Saharan Africa. With by far the youngest and most rapidly growing human population, widespread economic poverty, and relatively young political systems with fragile democracies, African societies face an additional suite of challenges. And with economies and large rural populations that are heavily dependent on natural resources and healthy ecosystems, the impacts of climate change and environmental degradation are particularly pressing across this region. With the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, disease has become a more prominent direct and indirect threat to the conservation of great apes and other species that generate signifcant tourism revenue, and which supports conservation efforts on the ground.

This puts conservation in a critical position in relation to social, economic, and even political futures across Africa. It demands, as a recent paper published in Science by a leading group of African conservationists (and summarized in this issue of Current Conservation) puts it, “a paradigm shift toward sustainability, meeting peoples’ needs, and equity” in how conservation is conceptualized and pursued. It also makes the ‘old’ ways of doing conservation—top-down, centralized, focused on pristine nature and wilderness, and with a strong bias towards the biological sciences—increasingly anachronistic in a context where human livelihoods and land use practices have been intertwined with ecological systems for longer than anywhere else on earth.


In this context, new ideas and approaches to conservation are indeed fourishing across the region, creating new possibilities. Just as African countries have taken a vanguard role in pioneering new technologies and business models in felds such as telecommunications and fnancial services, the region is fostering pioneering conservation models and practices in felds such as human-wildlife confict mitigation, ecotourism, community-based conservation, protected area management, and One Health approaches.

This special issue of Current Conservation attempts to capture some of the new directions that are reshaping African conservation today. It features a range of perspectives that touch on many of the key themes and trends in conservation from across the region.


One highly innovative and entrepreneurial organization working to reshape African conservation is the African Leadership Group, helmed by its founder and CEO, Fred Swaniker (originally from Ghana). In establishing the School of Wildlife Conservation as part of the ALG network in Rwanda, and creating the Business of Conservation annual conference, Swaniker often talks of wanting to change conservation in the region from an ‘old social cause’ to an ‘engine of growth’ and development. Here, African Leadership University’s Director of Research, Susan Snyman, reports on the key findings of a major new study ALU has carried out over the past year on Africa’s ‘wildlife economy’, and how developing new economic opportunities tied to wildlife and wild landscapes are key to conservation efforts.


Relatedly, David Obura, a Kenyan marine scientist and leading global expert on coral reefs, recently led the authorship of a prominent article by a group of African conservationists in Science that provides an African perspective on global conservation models and targets. Calling for a greater focus on ‘shared landscapes’ that support people and biodiversity, Obura and colleagues ground the ambitions of the 2030 global conservation dialogue in African realities and priorities.


The special issue includes two perspectives on community management, indigenous knowledge and land use systems, human-wildlife co-existence, and locally led collaborations from East Africa: one on the Northern Tanzania Rangelands Initiative by Alphonce Mallya and one on the South Rift Valley of Kenya by Peter Tyrell, Peadar Brehony, and John Kamanga.


The Saharan and Sahelian region is often overlooked in conservation efforts, but some of the most notable efforts at rewilding and restoration of endemic wildlife, and development of locally suitable management systems, is taking place in countries such as Chad. John Newby, of the Sahara Conservation Fund, provides an overview of these efforts.

Building the capacity of African scientifc networks and institutions is important to the long-term effectiveness of conservation in the region. Inza Kone and colleagues describe how the African Primatologist Society is helping to build African leadership in conservation science and action. Lastly, the special issue showcases some of African conservation’s new voices and emerging leaders, who are driving change and innovation in their communities and their countries.

This article is from issue

15.3

2021 Sep

Unlocking the potential of Africa’s wildlife economy to drive conservation

Conservation in Africa today continues to be strongly shaped by economic realities. For conservation to succeed, it needs to contribute to reducing poverty and uplifting the economic aspirations of a rapidly growing population with huge demand for employment and upward mobility. Conservation efforts also must face the reality that many wild species—particularly the region’s iconic large mammals—create real costs that are imposed on local people living alongside wildlife. Fortunately, Africa’s wildlife resources also have immense economic value and are one of Africa’s greatest actual and potential sources of competitive economic opportunity. This value is, however, poorly understood and largely not taken into consideration in decision-making, policy development or in practice.


59 percent of Africans live in rural areas and are heavily dependent on natural resources for subsistence and livelihoods. Local and national economies also rely heavily on natural resources, the sustainable use of which is crucial for ensuring economic resilience and a prosperous future. However, these resources are rapidly declining in the face of various, mostly human-induced threats, with serious implications for conservation, human welfare, and the wildlife economy. African countries must effectively manage their natural resources for them to deliver a sustainable fow of benefts, and to harness the value of wildlife for conservation in both protected areas, as well as on private and community lands.

State of the wildlife economy in Africa


The old adage ‘you can’t manage what you don’t measure’ applies equally to the value of wildlife. It was a key impetus for the African Leadership University to develop a State of the Wildlife Economy in Africa report. An understanding of the wildlife economy and the value of these activities to local, national, and regional economies is essential for encouraging greater investment in wildlife—the asset base of the wildlife economy—so that governments will see wildlife as a key strategic asset, as well as a key growth opportunity. The hope is that by encouraging a ‘growth mentality’ and identifying opportunities, governments, private sector, and all stakeholders will invest more in sustaining the region’s natural assets (i.e., in long-term conservation as a key pillar of Africa’s economic development).


For many years, the focus of the wildlife economy has been on ecotourism. However, COVID-19 and the catastrophic impacts of the pandemic on the ecotourism industry have starkly highlighted the need to diversify the wildlife economy, as well as ecotourism itself, to build resilience and reduce risk. Other important activities with scope for further growth include wildlife ranching, carbon credit projects, film and photography, wildlife estates, non-timber forest products, and fsheries. The report includes detailed information on all of the above aspects of the wildlife economy, as well as the potential challenges and opportunities related to each. Some of the key regional trends highlighted in the report are summarized below.


Key regional trends


Most African countries engage in a diversity of wildlife economy activities, at varying degrees of intensity and scale. Ecotourism is by far the largest activity in most countries, especially in eastern and southern Africa. Yet, despite its ubiquitous nature, detailed data on ecotourism was found to be inconsistent. Forest products are of widespread importance across the subcontinent. However, a large part of the market is informal and, therefore, not accounted for. There is also a signifcant amount of illegal trade and unsustainable use, especially charcoal, which remains the most important source of household energy in most African countries. At the same time, this extensive use highlights the high level of demand for forest products and the huge potential of legal market opportunities.

Wild meat is one of the most valuable forest products in Africa, after timber. Wild meat hunting is largely legal in central and western Africa—where consumption is more prevalent due to strong wild meat-eating cultures and traditions—although it is poorly regulated. Conversely, it is illegal or heavily restricted in many east and southern Africa countries, where wildlife has high tourism value. Wild meat hunting is a key driver of species decline across Africa and African countries need to improve monitoring and research related to it.


Trophy hunting is practiced in a number of countries, and in some, such as Cameroon, Namibia, and South Africa, comprises a large part of local and national economies. There is, however, a lack of comparable data related to hunting, most of which is outdated. And wildlife ranching is prevalent in southern Africa—Namibia, South Africa, Zambia, Zimbabwe—because of enabling legal conditions and policies that provide secure private and, in some cases such as Namibia, communal user rights over wildlife. As a result of COVID-19, many other countries are looking at this as a key activity to diversify the wildlife economy—for example Kenya, Rwanda, and Tanzania.

The report found that the carbon market in Africa has great potential, in terms of the revenues that can be earned and as a means to support conservation, but it is largely untapped. This is due to a combination of policy and legal provisions—relating to property rights surrounding carbon and forests, which would give communities and the private sector rights and, therefore, incentives to engage in the carbon market—as well as a lack of awareness and/or understanding of the carbon market. Where communities have rights to beneft from carbon projects, it has been shown that there can be considerable positive fnancial impacts.

Finally, wildlife film and photography is underdeveloped in almost all countries. It should be seriously considered as a future opportunity for employment and revenue, both locally and nationally. The same holds for wildlife- or ‘ecoestates’, which can provide a mechanism for integrating housing development in natural landscapes in a way that conserves biodiversity, but also provides innovative fnancing for conservation of these landscapes through land purchases, rentals, levies, etc.

Examples and case studies


At a national level, the report includes many examples that highlight the positive impact of different policies and institutional arrangements for unlocking the potential of the wildlife economy. For example, in South Africa, the Game Theft Act (1991) provides certain ownership rights to landowners over wild animals held in adequately enclosed areas. This has provided incentives for a major shift in farming activities, with the sale of wild meat in South Africa now generating approximately USD 56 million annually.


In Rwanda, the Rwanda Development Board (RDB), which was established in 2008 out of a merger of eight government institutions, is a government institution with a mandate to accelerate the country’s economic development by being a ‘One Stop Centre’ for business and investments, and thus providing an enabling environment for the private sector to invest. The government of Rwanda also revised the investment law, in order to facilitate the growth of new sectors and attract new investments, by means of various incentives. The establishment of such a supportive, enabling environment is important for attracting investors in the wildlife economy.

In Namibia and Kenya, community conservancies have been supported and established on a large scale to create formal, legal mechanisms for communities to beneft from wildlife enterprises and uses. In Namibia, over 80 conservancies now generate over USD 10 million in annual revenue and income from tourism, hunting, and other natural resource uses. In Zambia, a new institutional framework for community forest management uses legislation to vest rights to forest products, including carbon, in community forest managers, thereby allowing communities to beneft from their forests in new and important ways.


Strengthening the wildlife economy


Some key recommendations in the report include the need to raise awareness and increase knowledge related to different wildlife economy activities. This is because many stakeholders, especially local communities, are not aware of alternatives or how and where they can get involved. The overall strengthening of policy, legal, and regulatory provisions governing natural resources—particularly property rights over wildlife, forest, and fsheries—is critical to unlocking the potential of the wildlife economy. There also needs to be an improvement in overall governance and the business environment, including institutional arrangements for beneft-sharing, to ensure greater inclusiveness and equity and to garner support from local communities. Essential to the long-term sustainability of wildlife and wildlife
economies is investment by government, the private sector, and communities in the conservation of wildlife—the asset base of the wildlife economy.


The pandemic has highlighted the importance of collaboration and strategic partnerships at all levels, as well as the need for a government strategy to provide direction, guidance, and structural coordination to all stakeholders. The wildlife economy includes a diverse range of stakeholder groups across several sectors. Hence, strategic direction is important to avoid overlapping mandates, a lack of role clarity, and conflicting policies and actions.


In addition, broader diversifcation of wildlife economy activities and products is important in order to reduce risk, build resilience and engage more stakeholders, sharing benefts more widely. The establishment of systems and protocols for data collection and analysis for Africa, at all levels from the community to national, is also critical to promote data-driven decision-making going forward.

Ultimately, we need to change the narrative about wildlife to drive investment and conservation outcomes. Wildlife is a key strategic asset contributing to African development and livelihoods and we need to grow this asset and invest in it.


Further reading


Snyman, S., D. Sumba, F. Vorhies, E. Gitari, C. Enders, A. Ahenkan, A.F.K. Pambo et al. 2021. State of the Wildlife Economy in Africa. African Leadership University, School of Wildlife Conservation, Kigali, Rwanda.


Snyman, S., F. Nelson, D. Sumba, F. Vorhies, C. Enders. (2021). Roadmap for Africa’s Wildlife Economy. A summary of Snyman, S., D. Sumba, F. Vorhies, E. Gitari, C. Enders, A. Ahenkan, A.F.K. Pambo et al. 2021. State of the Wildlife Economy in Africa. African Leadership University, School of Wildlife Conservation, Kigali, Rwanda.

This article is from issue

15.3

2021 Sep

Shared earth, shared ocean: An African vision for the post-2020 Global Biodiversity Framework

In 2021/2022, the Global Biodiversity Framework of the Convention on Biological Diversity will finally be adopted by the 198 member states at the Convention’s 15th Conference of Parties in China. A vast increase in effectiveness will be needed, compared to the last decade, to succeed in its ambitions. Conservation efforts have focused on the most intact natural locations, in Africa and across the globe, but tend to neglect the places where many people need it most—around their farms and homes. It is in these ‘shared spaces’, such as agricultural, fishing, and pastoralist systems, that a new paradigm is needed for conservation action, which is both nature-positive and people-centered.


In a recent article in Science, a group of African conservation leaders call for conservation to fully take on a human face. Legacies of inequitable impacts of protected areas on local and indigenous communities have made many countries in the Global South and varied communities distrustful of global conservation targets and initiatives, which they feel are thrust upon them and fail to address their local needs and contexts.


The ‘shared earth, shared ocean’ framework provides guidance for consolidating and upscaling existing conservation successes, through focusing on the local context. This framework will help put local communities in charge where they live, recognize their local conservation practices, and link their efforts and resource needs to national and global networks. For example, new recognition of ‘other effective area-based conservation measures’ as a complement to formal protected areas, will strengthen overall conservation efforts. This is in large part because of the legitimacy and commitment that full involvement of local people and institutions will bring to decision-making on conserving nature.


In many ‘shared spaces’, restoration of natural areas will be essential to both meet peoples’ needs and to reach new global conservation targets. In cities and intensively farmed areas, a smaller proportion of area under natural habitat may be all that is possible, focusing on values of green spaces to people in densely populated areas.


The study builds on a wide scientifc literature, both on conservation and meeting peoples’ needs, and mirrors the structure of the new Global Biodiversity Framework and its foundations in the Sustainable Development Goals. The authors describe three preconditions for success. First, the commitment of the full level of fnance and material support needed, from both public and private sources, to avoid the insufficient impact of conservation to date. Second, the unsustainable economic and societal production and consumption practices that have driven nature to its current state must be transformed to circular or zero impact models. Third, climate and other global changes are transforming the planet, and these need to be minimized to assure the local conservation commitments made under this framework will have the best chance of success into the future.


Original paper


Obura, D., Y. Katerere, M. Mayet, D. Kaelo, S. Msweli, K. Mather, J. Harris et al. 2021. Integrating biodiversity targets from local to global levels. Science 373: 746–748, DOI: 10.1126/science.abh2234.

This article is from issue

15.3

2021 Sep

Return of the oryx: Restoring the Sahara’s endangered wildlife

The wildlife of the Sahara and bordering Sahelian grasslands are some of the most threatened on Earth. Drought, desertifcation, habitat loss and, above all, over hunting, have reduced many species to the verge of extinction. Animals such as the addax (Addax nasomaculatus), dama gazelle (Nanger dama), and cheetah (Acinonyx jubatus hecki) have disappeared from over 95 percent of the territories where they were found earlier. One of the region’s most iconic species, the scimitar-horned oryx (Oryx dammah), became extinct in the wild in the 1980s, and several others are severely threatened over large parts of their range. This includes species such as the Barbary sheep (Ammotragus lervia), dorcas gazelle (Gazella dorcas), slender-horned gazelle (Gazella leptoceros), Cuvier’s gazelle (Gazella cuvieri), striped hyena (Hyaena hyaena), ostrich (Struthio camelus camelus), and Nubian (Neotis nuba) and Arabian (Ardeotis arabs) bustards.


Over much of the Sahel and Sahara the fate of these unique species is being played out against a dramatic backdrop of climate change, unsustainable land use, political instability, and armed insurgency. Despite this daunting situation, efforts led by the Sahara Conservation Fund (SCF) over the past 20 years have achieved important milestones, including putting Saharan conservation more frmly on the global conservation map. Working with diverse partners in Chad and Niger, efforts are underway to save the remaining wild populations of addax, dama and dorcas gazelles, to restore the scimitar-horned oryx, and to reinforce populations of the almost extinct addax.


Unlike many endangered species today, the oryx’s disappearance was largely due to overhunting rather than habitat loss. Up until the early 1960s, the species was still relatively common over much of its Sahelian range, from Mali in the west, through Niger and Chad, and into Sudan. Always a target species for traditional hunters, using dogs and horses to hunt them, the impact on population size was probably quite low and highly seasonal. As pastoral development opened up the hitherto waterless and largely uninhabited grasslands used by the oryx, the impact of traditional hunting increased, as did the number of all-terrain vehicles and modern firearms.


With virtually no protection or law enforcement, oryx numbers rapidly plummeted and by the end of the 1970s the species was confned to a couple of populations in eastern Niger and central Chad. At that time, the wild population almost certainly numbered less than 5000 individuals, with most of these in the Ouadi Rimé-Ouadi Achim Game Reserve in central Chad. In 1979, civil war broke out in Chad, wiping out much of the larger desert wildlife in the Ouadi Rimé reserve and elsewhere. The last oryx was reportedly shot in Chad in the late 1980s. Fortunately, oryx held in captivity were quite numerous.


Today, although the oryx’s native grasslands of central Chad are impacted by serious overstocking of livestock, overgrazing and bushfres, wildlife still has access to large areas of suitable habitat. Recognising the opportunity and with encouraging support from regional governments, the Sahara Conservation Fund began collecting data to develop a plan to reintroduce the oryx from captive-bred sources into a suitable site. Meetings were held in 2010 and 2012 and the selected reintroduction site was the Ouadi Rimé-Ouadi Achim reserve in Chad—the oryx’s previous stronghold.


Following a feasibility study carried out in 2015, March 2016 marked a major milestone for regional conservation efforts. 25 oryx bred in captivity were fown from Abu Dhabi to Chad to seed one of the world’s most ambitious reintroduction programmes. From this founding population, 218 oryx have been reintroduced into the wild to date and by mid-2021 these had grown to a free-roaming population of around 380 animals. There have been setbacks, including deaths from disease, calf predation, and possibly malnutrition during hard times, but the overall trend continues to be very positive.


Bringing back the addax


In the neighbouring Sahara, the addax population has been following an inexorable downward decline for many decades. Today, the entire remaining wild population of a few dozen animals is confned to the Tin Toumma desert of eastern Niger. Two decades ago, the addax population had stabilized at around 300–400 animals. But with the discovery of oil in eastern Niger and the fall of the Ghaddaf regime across the border in Libya, new threats to their survival emerged in the form of massive disturbance from oil exploration, an infux of arms and four-wheel drive vehicles from Libya, and uncontrollable poaching by the armed forces sent to protect the oil workers.


The extinction of a species, either locally or globally, is not simply the loss of a unique plant or animal amongst many others but often the disappearance of a key element in a complex local web of life. For species like the addax, it is also the loss of innate and learned behaviour that, in addition to physical and morphological adaptations, permit the animals to survive and thrive in one of the world’s most hostile environments. Reintroduction may be able to bring back similar animals biologically, but it can never replace the intrinsic knowledge and culture of the animals that lived, learned, and evolved in that place over countless generations. Preventing, at all costs, the extinction of wild populations of animals, however small their numbers, is essential.


Encouraged by the results of the efforts to restore the scimitar-horned oryx, the Government of Chad, the Environment Agency of Abu Dhabi, and the Sahara Conservation Fund decided to include the addax as part of their reintroduction programme. In 2020, the frst addax were released into the wild and today they total over 50 animals. Plans are also underway to supplement populations of the critically endangered dama gazelle, a magnifcent Sahelian species now reduced to four tiny, isolated populations in Chad and Niger. In association with African Parks Network, ostriches from southern Chad are also being reintroduced into the Ouadi Rimé and Ennedi reserves.

The need for long-term conservation


While the reintroduction of the scimitar-horned oryx, and more recently the addax, has posed a host of logistical challenges, the longer-term conservation of these species will depend on the successful management of the large arid landscapes in which they reside. Much has changed across the grasslands of the Sahel since the 1990s. Land that was largely unoccupied for most of the year is now dominated by livestock and the consequent impacts of competition for natural wet season waterholes, overgrazing and loss of preferred plant species, disturbance, bushfres, and the spread of cattle-borne diseases. In Chad, at least, hunting is under control for now, but could become a major problem should insecurity and civil unrest occur. Human activities apart, there is also the impact of habitat loss through long-term climate change and desertifcation. Coming to terms with this new paradigm is far more challenging than simply
controlling poaching.


Created in 1969, the Réserve de faune de Ouadi Rimé-Ouadi Achim allows the pursuit of traditional forms of resource use, including grazing, use of dead wood, and access to natural waterholes and wells. What this arrangement failed to recognize was the vast increase in the numbers of people, livestock, and wells. Other rules and regulations are also completely out of date, necessitating a major overhaul of the reserve’s decree and limits, not only to bring it up to date, but also to permit management of space and natural resources for the long-term beneft of both humans and wildlife.


While most of the local people in and around the vast Ouadi Rimé-Ouadi Achim reserve are genuinely happy to see the return of the iconic and truly impressive addax and oryx, they currently have no real vested interest in their long-term conservation. Direct benefts are few and indirect ones—such as improved rangeland management, bushfre control, and the potential of future tourism development—are largely intangible. In the long term, improved rangeland management and the restoration of currently degraded grazing resources could be strong incentives.


To achieve long-lasting results in the social and environmental context of a largely mobile pastoral society requires not only working at a larger scale—the Ouadi Rimé-Ouadi Achim reserve is twice the size of Belgium—but also in a way that truly incorporates social needs and priorities with those of conservation. The two are not incompatible, but even if they were, the realities of today dictate the pursuit of cooperation and cohabitation. Exclusion of the human element from landscapes so critical to the survival of people with virtually no viable alternatives is neither just nor practical. The promising growth in delegated management and private-public partnerships over the past decade is highlighting what can be achieved using new models of protected area administration. Thanks to support from the European Union, an experiment in management of the Ouadi Rimé-Ouadi Achim reserve with full participation from the local population is underway. The development of an effective and sustainable conservation model in the region will hopefully emerge, beneftting the interests of both people and wildlife while providing a valuable example to other protected areas in the Sahara and the Sahel.

This article is from issue

15.3

2021 Sep

The new voices in African conservation

A rising generation of new African conservation leaders are creating innovative solutions to conservation challenges across the region. They are developing new people-centric organisations that will determine the future of the continent’s most critically important natural landscapes.

Daniel Sopia – As the CEO of the Maasai Mara Wildlife Conservancies Association (MMWCA), Sopia has been integral in the evolution of communityled conservation efforts in the Maasai Mara, one of Kenya’s most vital ecosystems. MMWCA is the umbrella body representing the landowners who have pulled together their individual parcels to form big, contiguous areas for wildlife and tourism now known as group conservancies, that protect the land surrounding the Maasai Mara National Reserve.

Paine Makko – Ujamaa Community Resource Team (UCRT) is Tanzania’s top land rights group that has helped secure more than one million hectares of community land, empowering communities to own, manage, and beneft from it. As the Executive Director, Paine combines her experience as a pastoralist and background in development to create solutions that work for both people and nature through UCRT.

Maxi Pia-Louis – Maxi is the Director of the Namibian Association of CBNRM Support Organisations (NACSO), and has greatly contributed to Namibia’s success in community conservation. She coordinates NACSO’s three thematic working groups and ensures collaboration and learning between its nine non-proft member organisations. She also facilitates communication and partnerships between NACSO, the government, and other partners.

Moreangels Mbizah – Moreangels is the Founder and Executive Director of Wildlife Conservation Action, Zimbabwe, an organisation that aims to build the capacity of local communities to protect and coexist with wildlife. A conservation biologist by training, Moreangels has worked in wildlife conservation for more than a decade, focusing on the preservation of large carnivores, such as lions and African wild dogs, as well as human-wildlife coexistence.

José Monteiro – Jose is an experienced Forest Ecologist skilled in land-use practices and management, including natural resources governance for development. His particular area of focus is communities living in rural Mozambique. As the Coordinator, José has played a critical role in facilitating the establishment of the Community Based Natural Resources Management Network in Mozambique (R-GCRN), aiming to empower communities to build robust governance systems to improve their decision-making over land use and management of their natural resources.

Tiana Andriamanana – Tiana is the Executive Director of Fanamby, an organisation that works across a portfolio of half a dozen protected areas spanning more than 500,000 hectares of Madagascar’s diverse forests and ecosystems. Madagascar is one of the most critical countries globally, with most of its plants, mammals, and reptiles found nowhere else on earth. Tiana’s experience in business engagement has shaped her approach to natural capital management in Madagascar.

Thandiwe Mweetwa – Thandiwe Mweetwa is a Project Manager at Zambia Carnivore Programme. She is a globally-renowned ecologist and educator whose work focuses on carnivore conservation on human-impacted landscapes in eastern Zambia. Thandiwe is a champion of community-centric conservation, including finding innovative and sustainable ways to promote human-lion coexistence.

Sam Shaba – Honeyguide works to develop ecologically viable and fnancially sustainable Wildlife Management Areas in Tanzania. They accomplish this by advancing the business side of community conservation. As a Program Manager, Sam is integral to Honeyguide’s leadership, helping steer the team’s strategy, including inventive thinking in how technology and businesses can support conservation outcomes.

This article is from issue

15.3

2021 Sep

What’s good for livestock can be good for wildlife

Natural history documentaries set in East Africa’s iconic savannah landscapes abound with enchanting scenes of wildlife and wilderness. But something critical is generally missing from this archetypal savannah scene: people and their livestock living alongside wildlife. This idea of wilderness, a wild place without people, doesn’t not exist.


Conventional conservation thinking—in Africa and around much of the world—tends to hold that livestock ruin the land through overgrazing and are bad for the planet. Cattle release greenhouse gases and large swathes of the Amazon forest have been cleared for ranching. There have been harrowing stories of livestock invading national parks and herders spearing lions and elephants. But in East Africa’s rangelands, wildlife is found in areas that have been created by pastoralists and managed principally for livestock. Maintaining livestock and finding solutions to the challenges faced by livestock herders can also help us to conserve wildlife. Here’s how.

Going beyond protected areas


Partitioning off vast protected areas from people and their livestock has been the mainstay of conservation practice for over a century. Protected areas now cover at least 15 percent of Earth’s land surface. And at the recent World Conservation Congress in September 2021, members of the International Union for the Conservation of Nature approved a motion to protect at least 30 percent of land and ocean by 2030. However, many conservation researchers and practitioners believe that continually expanding protection by creating spaces that are devoid of people is impractical and misguided. Instead, habitat conservation should value rural people, and include them, their land and livelihoods within conservation projects that span entire landscapes. Indeed, despite increases in the area designated as protected in countries like Kenya and Tanzania, wildlife populations are still declining, and much of the remaining wildlife and biodiversity are found outside of protected areas.

In this vein, research from a number of rangeland scholars shows that sustainable livestock rearing can help conserve the world’s remaining rangelands, which make up an incredible 40 percent of the world’s land area. Rangelands are defined by low and erratic rainfall, yet they host large herds of migratory animals, like bison and wildebeest. But in places like the North American prairie and the savannas of East Africa, most animals are domestic livestock, who also extensively graze these areas. These livestock are cultural and economic centrepieces of these landscapes and must be at the heart of any conservation solution.

In East Africa today, conservation is largely focused on finding ways to ensure that extensive rangelands, including savannah ecosystems, remain intact and deliver value for people, their livestock, and wildlife, who move widely across the boundaries of different protected and unprotected areas.

Threats to livestock are threats to wildlife


Understanding the ecology of rangelands in East Africa is crucial if we wish to protect the wildlife living there and foster more effective and resilient conservation strategies.


Patterns of rainfall in East Africa’s rangelands are inherently erratic, with wide oscillations around annual means, and a relatively predictable long dry season running from June to October. When rain does fall on the rangelands, several species of large mammals generally migrate hundreds of kilometres for the fish of vegetation that follows. During droughts, these animals search out the last patches of vegetation and remaining trickles or puddles of water. In the Mara-Serengeti ecosystem this leads to the world-famous migration of over 1.5 million wildebeest and zebra each year, covering nearly 1000 km in their annual round-trip migration, chasing rainfall and pulses of vegetation.


Likewise, resilient livestock management requires large-scale mobility for the ecological and economic benefits it brings. Herders and livestock move to access resources, while also resting other pastures, allowing vegetation to recover, and acting as reserves during long periods of droughts.


But space for wildlife is now rapidly shrinking across rangelands. From East Africa, to Tibet and Mongolia, urban areas are growing, land is being subdivided into individually-owned units, agriculture is being mechanised, and fences are springing up to demarcate ownership. If other land uses are perceived to be more profitable, financial and political pressures lead to the transformation of previously wildlife-friendly pastoral landscapes. Therefore, areas with the highest potential land value are likely to experience land transformation, if the opportunity cost cannot be met. For instance, recent research from southern Kenya demonstrates that land prices are increasing astronomically as urbanisation continues and speculators buy up parcels of land. This has led to large-scale fencing of landscapes, with around 40,000km of fencing in southern Kenya—enough to encircle the earth—further limiting the migration of wildlife between the remaining patches of intact habitat.


Importantly, these threats to wildlife populations are the very same threats that are experienced by herders and their livestock. As the space for these herders and their livestock shrinks, the health and number of livestock decrease, the rangelands degrade, and people’s livelihoods suffer.


As a result of these twin challenges, conservation efforts in East Africa’s rangelands today are increasingly focused on addressing the problems of subdivision, fragmentation, and range degradation, by generating incentives for pastoralist communities to maintain healthy, connected, communal rangelands.

Opportunities for wildlife conservation by overcoming threats to livestock


Before colonial changes in livestock policy, the Maasai in southern Kenya managed their livestock over vast areas using principles they call “eramatere”. The rules on where to graze, and for how long, were enforced through close social ties that tightly linked people and their extended families together. It’s much harder to break the rules when it jeopardises the well-being of a close friend or family member. This compelled individuals to make decisions that benefited the whole community.


But cultures are changing, and so too are these principles. It is now vital to understand how we can support or rekindle indigenous management practices as a way to sustain landscapes that support both wildlife and livestock. For instance, in Kenya’s South Rift Valley, communities are working with the South Rift Association of Land Owners (SORALO) to overcome these challenges by adapting and improving traditional governance systems, and reinforcing social ties all across multiple scales. This improves the ability to manage livestock at a landscape-scale and, consequently, preserves rangeland health. In doing so, the communities are indirectly preserving the resources and mobility that wildlife too needs to survive.

To achieve this, SORALO works with local governance bodies to map, plan, and monitor the foraging of livestock. Spatial planning helps communities to plan the future use of their land and balance the tradeoffs with competing interests of agriculture and urban development. SORALO also supports traditional governance institutions to adapt to the modern legal systems and gives them the rights to support their management choices. They support networking and planning with neighbouring groups of herders and their governing bodies. At a time when there is increasing pressure to stay in one place, these efforts help to ensure that the crucial mobility to follow rain and resources can continue.


In doing so, decisions made about livestock grazing beneft the entire community, not just certain individuals. Grazing can happen at a scale that is large enough to access erratic vegetation and water, and to rest those patches of grass which have been overgrazed or that need to be preserved for prolonged drought. This means that people have healthier livestock, which are less likely to die during droughts.


Indeed, research from southern Kenya’s rangelands shows that a combination of effective traditional livestock management, which includes mobility and access to wet and dry season grazing areas, can help to maintain resilience and ensure that a diverse and abundant wildlife community can coexist with people and livestock in these landscapes.


Healthy rangelands with livestock and wildlife also allow for the possibility of supplementary and diversifed revenue. This includes equitable eco-tourism partnerships, payment for ecosystem services— like the Chyulu Hills Conservation Trust’s carbon credit project, which pays local landowners to manage and restore their rangelands—and sale of rangeland products, such as plants, honey, and other food. All of these can increase the economic value of livestock-wildlife landscapes, and thus help to reduce the threat of land degradation, fragmentation, and conversion to urban development, crop agriculture or land speculation. And by generating suffcient economic returns, people may not feel that they need alternative income streams to support their families. In all this, livestock—the most valuable product in rangelands—are key, and conservation efforts need to be founded on improving rangeland management and productivity, which will in turn beneft wildlife.

Building conservation from a community world view


By focussing on the potential of livestock, communities can preserve rangeland health, prevent rangeland fragmentation, and build pride in their landscapes, an approach we have termed “inside-out” conservation. In other words, by improving the cultural, economic and ecological sustainability of livestock production systems in rangelands—including both traditional and commercial production systems—wildlife can also benefit. Best of all, this approach doesn’t require large sums of money to incentivise landowners to change their livelihoods or lifestyles, and it doesn’t require governments or conservation NGOs to impose top-down rules and regulations on herders that can lead to conflict. By drawing on lessons from the past and from current systems that function well, such an approach reminds us of the possibility of coexistence across landscapes.


Although these approaches are critical to the future of East Africa’s rangelands, they still face challenges. Livestock and their products are the most important revenue generator in rangelands. We need to find more ways to generate greater economic returns from them. We need to do more to ensure that benefits from ecotourism or payments for ecosystem services are equitably distributed and reach the people who are doing the most to conserve their living resources. And beyond economics, we need to ensure that the rights, knowledge, and experiences of people living and managing these rangelands are recognised as vital in any conservation activities. We need to do more to maintain or restore the cultural pride of healthy landscapes, livestock, and wildlife. Without the “place” for wildlife in people’s lives, the “space” created for them may not matter.


Further reading:


Russell, S., P. Tyrrell and D. Western. 2018. Seasonal interactions of pastoralists and wildlife in relation to pasture in an African savanna ecosystem. Journal of Arid Environments 154: 70–81. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jaridenv.2018.03.007


Tyrrell, P., S. Russell and D. Western. 2017. Seasonal movements of wildlife and livestock in a heterogenous pastoral landscape: Implications for coexistence and community-based conservation. Global Ecology and Conservation 12: 59–72. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.gecco.2017.08.006


Western, D., P. Tyrrell, P. Brehony, S. Russell, G. Western and J. Kamanga. 2020. Conservation from the inside-out: Winning space and a place for wildlife in working landscapes. People and Nature 2(2): 279–291. https://doi.org/10.1002/pan3.10077

This article is from issue

15.3

2021 Sep

Working towards a common purpose in northern Tanzania

Not long ago, I was walking in a place that I have visited many times before in northern Tanzania—the Randilen Wildlife Management Area. This is a community-owned and run conservation area that forms a key refuge for wildlife during seasonal movements between Tarangire National Park and Lake Manyara National Park, two of Tanzania’s most famous protected areas. It is used by elephants, zebras, wildebeests, giraffes, lions, and several other animals that move across the park boundaries onto surrounding lands.


But that day in Randilen was my frst time spotting six lions all together in that area. I had never observed lions there before, but now suddenly I was seeing six in a single place, and on foot no less. It was a thrilling encounter and a marker of real conservation progress on the ground. Randilen is just one example of wildlife population recovery thanks to local action and leadership, supported by collaborations at the landscape scale. Moreover, the return of wildlife is happening alongside improvements in well-being and economic security for the local communities.


For the Northern Tanzania Rangelands Initiative (NTRI), a collaboration of different organisations working across the landscape, this is what successful conservation is all about. NTRI works to support local leadership and forge stronger links between different organizations around a shared, common vision for the landscape. In Randilen, community management efforts are being supported by two NGOs—The Nature Conservancy and Honeyguide, an innovative Tanzanian organization that specializes in improving local management and business planning so people can beneft from their wildlife and resources.

A threatened landscape


The northern Tanzania rangelands are witness to some of the world’s largest mammal migrations, including thousands of zebra, wildebeest, and other species that migrate between famous protected areas like the Ngorongoro Crater, Tarangire National Park or the Mt Kilimanjaro National Park. The rangelands are also home to the Maasai pastoral communities that have resided here for countless generations. Their lifestyle and norms guided them to use natural resources sustainably, meaning that there was a healthy balance between levels of resource consumption and regeneration.


Now with development pressures increasing across the landscape, including the construction of new roads and power lines, major towns like Arusha have spread into surrounding rangelands. Consequently, these areas have started to witness an influx of people and increasing competition for natural resources. This has created many conficting resource interests: more people need land for farming and settlement, others need pasture to graze livestock, and occupying the same space is the wildlife that supports a billion-dollar tourism industry in northern Tanzania. As resources decreased, we began to see an increase in conflict.

Working together to achieve big changes


To tackle this problem, local conservationists began to think about optimising existing efforts to work with communities, with the help of additional resources, increased coordination, and collaboration. For example, local organizations like Honeyguide, the Ujamaa Community Resource Team (winner of the Goldman Environmental Prize in 2016), and Tanzania People & Wildlife were already working to develop new approaches for promoting coexistence between people and wildlife. Meanwhile, international conservation groups like Wildlife Conservation Society (WCS) and The Nature Conservancy (TNC) were supporting these efforts as well as working with the government.


Given the range and scale of conservation challenges, it became evident that an individual or an organisation could not hope to address them alone. We began to view the landscape as one large system, with wildlife moving from one national park to another through communal lands and farmed areas and settlements. Thus, we realized the need to operate collectively at the landscape level, while acknowledging that most organisations at the time were operating independently in silos.


Those insights led to the formation of the NTRI in 2011. It is a consortium of ten organisations: Oikos, Tanzania People & Wildlife, Carbon Tanzania, Honeyguide, WCS, Dorobo Fund, Ujamaa Community Resource Team (UCRT), Pathfnder International, Maliasili, and TNC. We are united around a common goal and vision, with different backgrounds, skill sets, and resource access, coming together with a common strategic approach to work with indigenous peoples and local communities in the rangelands to tackle these challenges.

NTRI partners pursue several key strategies to address conservation challenges in the landscape. A key one is to help the communities with land use planning as well as securing ownership of their land and rights to its resources, in order to protect both the land and people’s rights, and keep the landscape connected to allow livestock and wildlife to continue moving freely across it.


Second, we support and strengthen management and governance strategies that address the drivers of habitat degradation and fragmentation. Third, we work to add economic value to livestock and wildlife enterprises to incentivise sustainable land use and promote equitable sharing of benefts.


Working as a consortium brings many advantages. For example, in addition to the conservation organisations, one of the partners, Pathfnder International, brings expertise in addressing health and environmental conservation in an integrated way, further enhancing the group’s ability to bring in expertise, experience and resources from different angles.


Working as a consortium has also allowed us to support innovative approaches to beneft both people and nature in the landscape. Makame, another community-owned and managed Wildlife Management Area (WMA), has weathered the total loss of tourism earnings caused by COVID-19 because it has a new and growing revenue stream selling carbon offsets.


Multiple efforts from multiple angles are needed for a project like that to succeed: law enforcement to protect the community’s assets, in this case the vegetation storing the carbon; community buy-in to conserve a portion of land and avoid deforestation in that area; strong governance and management; revenue to carry out all the necessary carbon assessments, and a partner who would enable the communities to access carbon financing. Collaboration between NTRI partners such as Carbon Tanzania, UCRT, TNC, and Honeyguide has been key to this pioneering initiative that is now helping restore and protect over 350,000 hectares of rugged woodland and savannah.

The combined impact of all our partner organisations working together is greater than the sum of its parts. Through the NTRI partnership, over 900,000 hectares are now under improved natural resource management, with a little over 15 percent of degraded rangelands already in a better condition, and the functionality of two crucial wildlife corridors maintained, giving wildlife access to 440,000 hectares of connected habitat. By sustainably managing rangeland resources, two WMAs and 48 villages have improved their ability to adapt to challenges resulting from climate change.


Approximately 47,000 people have beneftted from various conservation activities, including beekeeping, leather crafts, village game scouts, crop protection, rangeland monitoring and management, holistic grazing management, and early work for invasive species control and management. We have helped establish 80 COCOBAs (community savings banks) in 21 program villages with 2,221 members who have a total benefit share collection to date of more than $500,000.


Lessons learned


The NTRI partners have learned many lessons so far about how to develop and sustain collaborations amongst different types of organizations in a complex, dynamic, and changing landscape.

First, for effective cooperation between multiple stakeholders at different levels, there must be an acceptance
of collaboration as a way forward, guided by effective and concrete ways of engaging them. There must be tangible benefts to the collaboration for all the parties involved.


Second, developing a common vision that everyone buys into is key for working towards shared objectives.


Third, partnerships succeed when, in addition to shared goals, plans, data, and other information, partners deliberately align or adjust their actions to achieve mutually agreed on objectives.

Finally, it is important to recognise that organisations work at different paces as well as value individual contributions, regardless of the magnitude. Every partner has a role to play as a piece in the puzzle, and diverse pieces are needed to solve the challenges of landscape-scale conservation in East Africa today.

This article is from issue

15.3

2021 Sep

Putting local communities at the centre of African conservation: A tribute to Professor Marshall Murphree

As this special thematic issue of Current Conservation was being fnalized in late October, we received news of the passing of Professor Marshall Murphree at the age of 90 in his home country of Zimbabwe.


During the past year, one of the foremost themes in conservation has been the marked surge in support for what are now termed ‘IPLC’ (Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities) conservation efforts. In the African context, no individual had a greater infuence on the thinking around community management and governance of natural resources, and the implications for conservation policy and practice, than Marshall Muphree.

Murphree became a key fgure, with ultimately a global infuence on conservation, starting in the 1980s when Zimbabwe was pioneering new ideas and feld-level management experiments in wildlife management. From his academic home at the University of Zimbabwe’s Center for Applied Social Sciences (CASS), which he led starting in 1970, he provided much of the key design thinking behind Zimbabwe’s CAMPFIRE (Communal Areas Management Programme for Indignenous Resources). CAMPFIRE’s aim, drawing on earlier experiments with devolving ownership of wildlife on private ranches in Zimbabwe, was to create a new paradigm of community-driven conservation, based on community-level ownership of wildlife and the resource’s economic value.


These new ideas and management experiments in Zimbabwe would ripple throughout Africa and indeed the world during the 1990s, largely because Murphree was able to connect academic theory, particularly in the new feld of common property scholarship (then also being pioneered on a wider global scale by future Nobel Laureate, Elinor Ostrom), with practical management realities in African rural communities. His work provided rigour to the emerging ‘new paradigm’ of community-based conservation, as well as fueling a growing community of scholars and practitioners from across southern Africa, many of whom studied at CASS and collaborated with Murphree on a profusion of papers and research projects during that time. By connecting southern Africa with parallel ideas and initiatives taking place elsewhere, through new networks such as the International Association for the Study of Common Property (IASC) and the IUCN Sustainable Use Specialist Group, which Murphree helped found, these efforts had a huge role in changing global conservation in ways that are only today seemingly coming to fruition.


Murphree’s work was both highly collaborative and politically charged. At the heart of his work was recognition that community-based conservation was not primarily about wildlife, but concerned with the political dimensions of shifting power to marginalized rural communities.

He said what few other conservationists were able or willing to state: that community-based conservation ultimately was tied to “a potential agrarian revolution” and “ a largely unrecognised struggle over property rights in rural Africa.” To put it more plainly, it could be said that ‘power to the people’ was the underlying theme of all of Murphree’s work and conservation agenda. Murphree fully recognized that the community conservation experiments of the 90s had only just started to make headway in this larger, critical political project. He used the memorable phrase ‘aborted devolution’ to describe the limitations that government figures tended to place on reform efforts, often undermining the key tenets of community conservation.

Are conservation efforts in Africa and around the world now finally starting to overcome those vested interests and put more meaningful rights in the hands of the local communities and Indigenous Peoples who live on the land? Time will tell, but Murphree’s ideas and vision will continue to provide a core foundation for the efforts of activists and scholar-practitioners for years to come.


Further Reading


Murphree, M. W. 1993. Communities as resource management institutions. International Institute for Environment and
Development.


Murphree, M. W. 2000. Boundaries and borders: the question of scale in the theory and practice of common property
management. Eighth Biennial Conference of the International Association for the Study of Common Property. Vol. 31.


Hulme, D. and M. Murphree. 2001. African wildlife and livelihoods: The promise and performance of community conservation.James Currey Ltd.

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15.3

2021 Sep

Promoting local leadership and networking in African primatology

The African region (including Madagascar) has the highest concentration of nonhuman primate diversity on Earth. In all, the continent is home to 42 percent of the world’s 713 primate species and subspecies and more than half of all primate genera. Five of the top 12 countries on Earth for primate diversity are African— Madagascar, Democratic Republic of Congo, Tanzania, Cameroon, and Nigeria. Madagascar alone is second on the world list and has the highest number of endemic primate taxa of any country on Earth. Also of considerable interest is the fact that we continue to discover new species and subspecies of primates. 97 species and subspecies were described for the frst time in the past two decades, and more than half of them are from Africa—50 lemurs from Madagascar, and three prosimians (two galagos and a potto) and four monkeys, including a new genus, Rungwecebus (the Kipunji), from mainland Africa.


African primates play an important role in our research on numerous aspects of human biology and the cognitive sciences, as well as in understanding the threats of emerging diseases. Arguably more fundamental and critical is their role in sustaining the healthy ecosystems vital for human livelihoods and in their presence in the cultures and folklore of many African societies. Sadly, as is the case in all other parts of the tropical world, the primates of Africa, and Madagascar in particular, are severely threatened. The latest IUCN Species Survival Commission Red List assessments carried out between 2012 and 2016, showed that 63 percent of all primates worldwide are threatened—the highest degree of threat for any of the larger groups of mammals— and with many of the Critically Endangered species literally on the verge of extinction.


There are several reasons for this decline in primate populations. Foremost is habitat destruction and fragmentation, mostly as a result of logging, large-scale mining, and agroindustry (notably oil palm and soy plantations), but with many other factors at play as well. In West and Central Africa, for example, bushmeat hunting is a major cause of primate declines, and the same is true for Madagascar. Primates are also killed for medicinal purposes, for the ornamental use of various body parts (for example, black-and-white colobus, geladas), and as crop pests (for example, baboons, vervets). Outbreaks of major diseases in Africa can also be of serious concern, both for nonhuman primates and humans, with recent Ebola outbreaks having killed large numbers of gorillas and chimps in certain countries (such as Congo-Brazzaville).

In recognition of the importance of primates in Africa and to further stimulate the development of concerted domestic efforts to curb the threats to their continued survival, a number of African primatologists worked to advance the establishment of a primate-focused group—the African Primatological Society (APS). This group would provide a platform for sharing data, information, tools, and technical assistance to support Africa’s preparedness and domestic efforts in primate research and conservation,as well as to encourage greater participation and leadership of African primatologists. This initiative began as a genuine attempt to increase the robustness of African involvement in international primatological meetings and in decision-making bodies; enriching their capacity to engage and influence stakeholders and policies within their home country; and improving the quality of their scientific inputs and roles in major dialogues or activities relating to African primates.

The APS was formally established during an inaugural Congress in Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire in July 2017. The congress brought together about 150 experts, including aspiring primatologists, researchers, conservation practitioners, tourism stakeholders, and policy makers from 22 African countries, along with a few dozen people from other countries across the globe.


Two years later, the second congress of the APS was held in Entebbe, Uganda in September 2019. The event was a resounding success, bringing together over 300 primate experts to discuss the theme ‘Challenges and Opportunities in Primate Conservation in Africa’, and to fnd ways to promote active participation of native African primatologists in the international primatological arena. With 250 out of 312 delegates hailing from 24 different African countries, the APS more than achieved its goal of providing an accessible platform for African primatologists to collaborate, network, and discuss pressing challenges and issues, opportunities, and potential solutions towards protecting Africa’s primates and their habitats.


The two congresses benefitted from the avid support of various stakeholders in academia, non-governmental organizations, civil society groups, national and local governments, funding agencies, public and industry scientists, local, national and international media, and delegates from all regions of Africa (North, West, Central, East, Southern Africa, and Madagascar).

The added value to the congresses was the deliberate inclusive approach, which involved students from African institutions working on primates for their dissertations. This bottom-up or ‘catch-them-young’ initiative will help us also focus on prospective primatologists across age and gender. It was also gratifying to see how we were able to mobilize the international community and governments to play their role to advance and support the goals and objectives of African primatology at large.

One main recommendation that was emphasized during the congress was for members to not only have a greater level of commitment to the new society, but also to promote public dialogue and effective policy advocacy within their own sphere of influence. Genuine inclusivity was also highlighted as a way to boost the participation of all primatological expertise and interests on the continent.

The congresses have underscored the following action points and agenda to inform the work needed to be
done for the effective conservation of African primates and for the development of African primatologists in
the wake of the establishment of the African Primatological Society:


Africa-based training programs needed


In general, African countries are faced with major challenges concerning the lack of adequate resources, equipment, dynamic institutions, and governance. A well-designed training program and infrastructure will play an important role in enabling many African primatologists to learn from best practices of peers, and to obtain continuous input on their performance. The turnout of African participants at the congresses has shown that the region has a high proportion of people conducting research on or working for the conservation of African primates. However, to promote growth, enhance the quality of their work, and increase the level of their involvement in primatological communities, there must be some structural training and environment that will empower them. To achieve this, leadership-based training that is grounded in a robust scientific curriculum is required to build and equip both experienced and upcoming primatologists.


Strengthen regional and global integration of African primatologists


Regional and global integration is needed to overcome the limitations of Africa’s small but growing mass of primatologists, and also to give the continent a stronger voice in the conservation and management of its primates. Until the birth of the APS, many African primatologists and primatological groups, such as the Groupe d’Etude et de Recherche sur les Primates de Madagascar (GERP) and the Primate Ecology and Genetic Group (PEGG), South Africa, have been working in isolation from the rest of the larger community of Africans and non-Africans working on primates. The African Primatological Consortium (APC) headquartered in Uganda is an excellent example of regional integration to create a forum for a collaborative research community for primatologists in Africa. The impact of these fragmented communities or individual primatologists on the conservation and management of primates has, however, been limited in addressing many of the conservation development issues on the continent. Active and increased African participation in international primatological meetings should also be encouraged so as to promote global integration.

Develop a red colobus action plan


Certain groups of African primates besides the great apes—man’s closest living relatives—are of particular concern. Of these the red colobus monkeys of the genus Piliocolobus are a prime example. 18 species and one subspecies are currently recognized and all are threatened, with seven being in the Critically Endangered category. Workshops were organized during the two congresses to develop an action plan for the conservation of these remarkable animals, which involved a large network of red colobus researchers and conservationists. The action plan was launched at the 2018 Congress of the International Primatological Society in Nairobi, Kenya. It focuses on site-specifc activities, but also uses common themes to leverage efficiencies of scale.


Develop and/or revise other action plans


Other primate groups, such as the lemurs of Madagascar, are in urgent need of attention. A lemur action plan for 2013–2016 was successfully funded, but there is much that still needs to be done. A Red-Listing Workshop for Lemurs was held in Madagascar in November 2017, with the objective of updating our knowledge of these species and revising the action plan. Action plans for other taxa and regions are also needed, and a major initiative is underway for the 16 mangabeys and mandrills, 13 of which are currently threatened.

Finally, it is vital that African primatologists engage in a multi-sectoral approach to promote conservation efforts that include governments, local communities, the private sector and NGOs.


References


Estrada, A., P. Garber, A. B. Rylands, C. Roos, E. Fernandez-Duque, A. Di Fiore, K. A. I. Nekaris et al. 2017. Impending extinction crisis of the world’s primates: why primates matter. Science Advances 3: e1600946. DOI 10.1126/sciadv.1600946.


Imong I., R. Ikemeh, I. Kone and D. Ndeloh. 2016. The Birth of the African Primatological Society for the future of African Primates. African Primates 11(1): 49-50.


IUCN SSC, PSG. 2021. Primate Specialist Group taxonomic data base. A. B. Rylands and R. A. Mittermeier. 13 October 2021.

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15.3

2021 Sep

Asian giant hornets: More than a delicacy

Entomophagy, or the practice of eating insects, is not something that has been adopted only in recent times. In India’s Northeastern region, it is part of a culture that has been around for as long as anyone can remember. 

Lobeno Mozhui has identified as many as 106 edible insects that are consumed by local communities in Nagaland alone. Among these, the Asian giant hornet (Vespa mandarinia) is one of the most expensive and sought-after, and Naga tribes are the only groups known to rear them for consumption. Adult giant hornets are also consumed but it is the larvae that are considered a delicacy.  

A fire is made at the entrance of the nest and the smoke is driven into the nest.

In November 2019, I found myself in a village called Maikhel in Manipur, inhabited by the Mao, a major Naga tribe. Dipen and Seela, two other Green Hub Fellows, were with me to film the giant hornet harvest, as part of our internship program with the Bangalore-based Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment (ATREE).

After around 5 hours of intense labour, when everyone else in the village is asleep, Lorhü proudly presents a fraction of the night’s harvest.

Harvesting takes place around 4–5 months after a giant hornet nest is relocated from the wild to a rearing site. By October–November, there are thousands of workers foraging, feeding the grubs, and guarding the nest. The harvest is usually carried out by the second week of November, before the grubs can metamorphose into adults. 

Harvesting takes place at night. Water is sprinkled at the entrance of the nest, driving the sentry hornets inside—a natural response to rain. The entrance is then blocked with burning twigs. Indian wormwood (Artemisia species) leaves are fed into the fire and smoke is driven into the nest with a blower. Wormwood smoke is believed to knock the hornets out quicker. Once the sounds of distressed hornets inside the nest stop, the nest is dug out, and the combs containing the larvae are collected for consumption.

After a late night’s work, freshly harvested hornet larvae is brought to the market early in the morning.

The following day, the night’s harvest is sold to a middleman at a wholesale rate. These are then sold at rates as high as INR 30,000 in the local market. Despite a high demand for giant hornet larvae, the cost is inhibitive, and only the elite and the rearers themselves are able to consume them.  

People here believe that giant hornets are a healthy substitute for conventional meat, especially for people with high blood pressure. Insect farming is an efficient and sustainable source of protein, requiring zero to minimal energy and inputs. This makes it an attractive alternative to the large meat farms seen in the West. 

From being an egg to metamorphose into a full adult, it takes 2 weeks. 
A plate like this would cost around INR 500/- and most older folk prefer it over red meat.

With an estimated rise in human population from 6.8 billion to 9.1 billion by 2050, efficient methods of producing protein are critical and edible insects are an effective solution. However, western diets, which have long been alienated from entomophagy, are only just beginning to accept the advantages of insect protein over conventional meat protein. They are now looking to indigenous communities to learn about edible insects, which are aptly called the food of the future.

Photo essay by Photo essay by Thejavikho Chase, Fellow at Green Hub

One-on-One with Rivaldo

Whenever I hear the name Rivaldo, I think of Brazil; I relive the 2002 World Cup, and replay memorable matches of the legendary footballer in my head. The popularity of that name has traveled farther than Brazil, as I discovered. It was given to an enormous 30-year-old tusker who wanders through the forests of Masinagudi and Mudumalai Tiger Reserve (MTR) with a monitoring collar around his neck.  

With support from WWF-India, Rivaldo the elephant was collared to record and track his movement and habits. I  had the opportunity to visit Mudumalai in August, and while there, it so happened that Rivaldo went  “missing” for about five to six hours. My colleague, Ravikumar, and I had  been visiting a forest campsite in the buffer zone of MTR that morning. On our return around noon, we travelled back towards Masinagudi town to assist in scouting out the wayfaring absentee. As per his last recorded location, Rivaldo was not too far from the town, and had lingered around the area of Vazhaithottam. We parked the jeep at the forest checkpost and made our way down a snaking stream, until we espied a group of Forest Department staff holding aloft a drone-shaped antenna. 

A brief discussion was followed by an inspection of the seemingly faulty radio device that was emitting a consistent barrage of static crackles. This proved confusing at first because it indicated two contradictory things: either that the elephant had vanished into thin air, or that he was omnipresent and approaching us from all sides. But Ravi anna (elder brother in Tamil) expertly adjusted the numbers on the screen, and tweaked the various knobs. Soon enough, we started receiving a short, and increasingly frequent blip that grew in intensity as we moved closer to our target. 

We made our way through an open field before reaching a thorn-covered patch of bamboo. Ever so often, we would halt, and with the antenna held high, correct our course by a few degrees, before moving forward again. We advanced in a single file and—despite getting myself caught in the nettle and thorn of the scrub with the inexperience and clumsiness of a newcomer—made steady progress. Small groups of chital (spotted deer) scurried past at the sound of our approach. We eventually emerged from this patch on to the banks of a boulder-filled stream. The blip was starting to spike; Rivaldo was not very far. Once again stopping to track the proximity of the elephant —and for me to catch my breath under the suffocating embrace of my face mask—we trekked another furlong. The Forest Guard surveying ahead informed us that he had spotted Rivaldo asleep. 

This explained the curious case of the missing tusker. As the elephant lay down, the GPS tracker on the collar might have swiveled downward and under his great bulk, thereby jamming and jumbling the signal. As we inched closer to Rivaldo through dense thickets of thorn-covered undergrowth, each step seemed an eternity, and the crunch of dry leaves underfoot could have awoken the slumbering giant. Stories of treacherously close encounters with elephants whirled through my head. Suddenly, I heard a loud thunderous snore and what sounded like the snap of a leather belt. Rivaldo lay on his side, fast asleep. His ears flapped mechanically, hitting the collar with that belt-snapping sound, while his trunk gathered the surrounding sand and sprinkled grains overhead, reminiscent of a gentle exfoliating massage. He moved his front foot up and down, as if walking in a dream.

After ten minutes and several overly cinematic what-if scenarios rushing through my head, we started to make our way back. It was extraordinary to think that a full-grown tusker lay so close by, and that without the aid of a monitoring device, one wouldn’t have had a clue. A short while later, as we took a water break and chatted, Rivaldo awoke and wandered further afield, adjacent to a large open expanse. We quickly followed, staying parallel to him. We then cut across, reached the field first, and stood waiting for him under the shade of a tree. If he emerged from the forest and into the open, he would come into view about 40 metres away. I waited with bated breath. The leaves began to rustle and out came the object of our rapt attention. Rivaldo walked slowly, his trunk sniffing and exploring the shrubbery directly ahead of him. He came closer to where we stood. By then, we had ventured away from the tree and were standing in the sun, in plain view of our companion. Rivaldo placidly observed us.

We froze. Ravi anna was crouched over, clicking photos. I was transfixed, fumbling to keep my phone camera on my chest. We remained rooted to the spot, as his massive bulk and lumbering presence dominated the landscape. His curiosity soon waned, and with a casual side glance, he swayed to the left and walked away to forage. We circled around and  continued to watch him through binoculars. With the Nilgiris in the backdrop, the hungry giant came to a halt. Using his front foot he scraped the soil and loosened the grass. Then, with his trunk, he neatly bunched and gathered the vegetation, encircling it with the dexterous coiled instrument that was in fact his nose. As if using a fork and spoon, Rivaldo bundled the grass in his trunk and secured it with the assistance of his front foot. Finally, with a single fluid motion, he ingested it all. Rivaldo indulged us for a good half an hour before returning to the dense scrub. 

Later that evening, Ravi anna asked if I had been frightened as I stood in front of Rivaldo. I would be lying if I said I had felt no fear or trepidation. Yet, we were fortunate to have encountered him when he was of a gentle disposition, perhaps soothed by his afternoon siesta. However I might choose to rationalise his mild behaviour that day, our wordless exchange made an indelible impression on me.

Adapting the What, Where, When, Why and Who of nature conservation to be more effective in a changing climate

The realities of climate change are forcing conservation practitioners around the globe to take a closer look at how they design nature conservation strategies and actions. Business-as-usual approaches are at risk of failing over time. For example, rising seas can drown out coastal conservation easements and refuges intended to protect salt marsh ecosystems and species. Ignoring these climate-related risks could lead to wasted conservation investments at a time when awareness of humanity’s dependence on healthy ecosystems—to support people’s livelihoods and well-being, stabilize the climate system, and protect against pandemics—is ever increasing. 

As conservation practitioners and funders begin to accept this new reality, they are faced with the challenges of how to make their investments “climate-smart”. In our new paper, Rapid assessment to facilitate climate-informed conservation and nature-based solutions, we present an accessible framework for addressing the question of what, if anything, do we need to do differently about conservation work to be effective in a changing climate? Our framework prompts users to consider the common refrain of “What, When, Where, Why and Who”—or the “5Ws”—to determine if strategic adjustments in these dimensions of a conservation project will increase the likelihood of desirable outcomes as the climate changes. 

“What” refers to the need to consider modifying current actions or taking new actions to ensure their long-term effectiveness, for example by re-designing culverts and road crossings to allow for fish passage during larger flood events that are expected to become more frequent. A project might adjust the “Where” by selecting implementation sites that are projected to remain suitable for a target species or support specific ecosystem services into the future. The “Who” of a project can relate to how climate change might alter with whom the work needs to be conducted, who is likely to benefit, and who might bear potential unintended harm or tradeoffs. 

The 5Ws rapid assessment emerged from a decade of climate-informed conservation grantmaking through the Wildlife Conservation Society’s Climate Adaptation Fund. Since 2011, the Climate Adaptation Fund has invested over $21 million in over 110 conservation projects across the United States that have designed their goals and actions to address climate risks. This portfolio offers numerous examples of conservationists shifting the paradigm of conservation practice. Over time, a clear framework for making climate-informed modifications emerged as altering the What, When, Where, Why, and Who of their work.

As climate change accelerates, the need for proactive, climate-informed conservation action in ecosystems across the planet is imperative. By translating lessons from these funded projects into a rapid assessment tool, we aim to provide a practical entry point to help newcomers to climate adaptation get started on the path to safeguarding conservation investments from a changing climate.

Further reading

Oakes, L. E., M. S. Cross and E. Zavaleta. 2021. Rapid assessment to facilitate climate-informed conservation and nature-based solutions. Conservation Science and Practice

This article is from issue

15.3

2021 Sep

The World Re-Afforestation Project

We are not the Lorax. But we speak for the trees anyway.

There have been a number of disturbing papers published recently about re-afforestation. These have suggested that we need to be careful about where we plant trees, that we might even not want to plant trees in some places, and that there are rules for wise tree planting

We would like here to restore the balance of affairs and put trees in their proper place, which, lets face it, is just about anywhere on the planet. The Earth may be molten in the middle, but Gaia is wooden at her core. Trees are the highest life form. The fact that evolution did not stop there was the result of truly selfish actions by some renegade genes which are now profoundly sorry for their misbehaviour. There is only one rule for tree-planting: if it’s a tree, then plant it.

To avoid confusion, we’d like to define what we mean by ‘tree’. (And you know how bad a debate is when you have to write such a sentence). A tree, to be clear, is a tall plant with a trunk and branches, and generally woody. Amongst other things, it is not a human. It does not cut itself down. A tree is a thing which a human isn’t. And, ergo, if you can see a tree occupying a space then a person is not in that same space. They are mutually exclusive (despite what we may have said in a previous column). 

It follows from this (we are almost somewhat certain) that places with lots of trees should not have people.   ‘Forest-dwelling people’ is, therefore, an oxymoron, and has as little chance of succeeding as a proton and an antiproton sharing a motel room. All this talk about talking to people about where forests should grow just proliferates a myth that is nothing like true forest at all. 

To avoid confusion, we would like to direct readers to recent welcome attempts published in the highest quality journals, including the Great One whose ‘I’s we are not worthy to dot, which have begun to hint at the true miracles that might be possible were we seriously to get serious about tree planting. Indeed, the only thing wrong with these authors’ plans is that they do not go far enough. They omit a host of places where trees could, and should, be planted in order more effectively to sequester carbon. These are:

1.Trees in lakes, and trees in seas: If you look at any map of the world then the obvious constraint to a world covered in forests is that far too much of it is covered in water. And the obvious, and if we may say so, ingenious, response to this is to plant trees which are more water and salt tolerant. It won’t be too difficult, we just need taller mangrove trees. We have recently patented the idea of crossing a mangrove with a redwood and expect to be planting forests right up to the edge of the continental shelf.

2. Antarctic trees: Antarctica is a huge wasted tree-planting opportunity. It’s a massive continent which has shown a rather lazy preference to grow ice, when it should be growing trees. Fortunately, current global warming trends mean that we should be able to get a healthy plantation of Scots pine growing their fairly soon. A bit of gene splicing with polar bears or penguins (Ed – which is the one that lives down there?) should make them more tolerant. 

3. Trees in space: We have been lax about terraforming nearby planets to house us in due course and trees are obviously the best way of doing this. And think how much carbon the moon could absorb once we worked out how to get it there.

4. Trees on trees: The prevailing philosophy seems to be that once you’ve planted a tree and it is growing, then your job is done. But what about all that extra space created by trees when they grow? Again, with appropriate gene editing other trees could be encouraged to plant themselves on each other and grow sideways of their fellows. We’d just need to make sure they were evenly positioned for balance. Currently trees themselves are being rather selfish about this. They tend to dominate space, and compete for light, rather than sharing it. But with a bit of group therapy for the aggressive species, and new thermal powered, LED UV ground-lighting, forests could be lit from anywhere, and tree space extend some 2–3 kilometres into the sky.

5. Trees in motion: One of the main problems with trees is that they simply refuse to move. An evolutionary glitch in an otherwise excellent conception. Once again, through appropriate gene therapy, we believe that trees that can shuffle around the neighbourhood, and occupy football fields and vacant lots when they are not being used. Why, some could learn to fly, flapping away with large leaves— imagine a flock of trees soaring above, munching away at all that Carbon in our atmosphere.

Conservation is sometimes accused of inventing the landscapes and places it wants to exist. Conservationists conserve their idea of what things should look like, rather than the living, evolving landscapes that exist. 

And what a load of cobblers that base and foolish accusation is! As should be plainly apparent in our wise words above, conservation is about restoring things that were lost back to their proper state. We could not be more confident that when trees once more rule the planet—as in the great golden Carboniferous age, before the Mesozoic came along and ruined everything—then we will have restored the greatest forest ever to have ruled.

This article is from issue

15.3

2021 Sep

Tale of an avian trickster

The gift for mimicry fills me with awe—the ease with which artists mimic the voice, expressions, and mannerisms of another individual. In the Animal Kingdom, most of us have heard of social birds like parrots and mynas, which are capable of mimicking human speech in captivity. But there are other mimicry artists out there in the wild. Have you ever seen the greater racket-tailed drongo in action? It is a highly vocal bird with black plumage that has a wide distribution across Southeast Asia. 

Although I had seen this species several times around my home in Kannur, Kerala, I learnt more about their peculiar behaviour only when I started birdwatching during my postgraduate course in Wayanad. What began as a hobby soon became the focus of my research. Drongos are relatively easy to identify and amongst them, the greater racket-tailed drongos stand out with their beautiful, wiry tail streamers, which end in small racket-shaped feathers. With such fancy tails, their flight is indeed a stunning sight. This species is famous among birdwatchers for its incredible vocal mimicry. 

I never failed to record sightings of greater racket-tailed drongos on my daily campus birding sessions. One day, as part of the fieldwork for my Master’s project, my friend, Nithin, and I set out for birding in a nearby coffee plantation. A particular spot, that was usually full of bird activity and filled with calls, was relatively silent that day. We kept walking, ducking below and clambering over branches of the trees and coffee shrubs, careful not to disrupt tenacious spider webs and shrugging off leeches that had crawled their way up our clothes. All the while, we kept our hopes up. All of a sudden, we heard a loud, repetitive, familiar call. We stopped in our tracks and listened. Soon we identified it as the call of the crested serpent eagle, a common raptor in the area—one of the first bird calls we learnt and memorised. We then started walking towards the source of the sound. This call, however, was coming from a fixed position, unlike the typical call of serpent eagles, which slowly fades as they soar away. I told Nithin that the bird was definitely perched somewhere close by. I got my camera ready to get a picture. We walked slowly and carefully before stopping at a location where the call sounded close. 

We were surrounded by tall trees with thick canopies. We looked around, peering through branches, twigs and leaves, trying to locate a large bird. The call was repeated several times while we tried to locate it. A sudden movement at the end of a branch 10–12 meters away caught my attention. I zoomed in with my camera to check, and there it was. A drongo! Out in the open, nicely perched on a branch, tail streamers swaying in the cool breeze. There was no sign of a crested serpent eagle. 

As happy as I was to see the racket-tailed drongo, something struck me as odd. We could still hear the eagle and I could see the drongo’s beak moving. Confused, I started recording a video to be completely sure that what I was hearing, seeing, and thinking at the time made sense. Soon after, the drongo flew away and the eagle’s call stopped as well. We then observed a small nest with two hatchlings, which we later identified as belonging to the greater racket-tailed drongo. It took me some time to realise that we had witnessed a perfect mimicry of the crested serpent eagle by this talented avian artist, and that I had fallen prey to its clever deception. Since then, I have been fooled by the drongo’s vocal tricks several times in almost every birding session. 

Greater racket-tailed drongos are known to mimic almost all birds, mammals such as the Malabar giant squirrel, and even inanimate objects, such as camera shutters or the reverse tune of a car! Studies suggest that vocal mimicry is used by drongos to invite other species in their habitat to form groups. These are known as mixed-species flocks or mixed hunting parties, a type of group behaviour by which individual birds obtain benefits in the form of increased foraging opportunities and protection from predators. However, mimicking calls of predators is observed mostly during the breeding season, near their nests. Hypotheses suggest that predator mimicry near their nests provide an environment where the young ones can learn sounds that are connected with danger, or it could serve to distract perceived threats away from the nest. Mimicry could also play a role in attracting mates and is also known in other species, such as lyrebirds,  as well.

Such complexities of bird behaviour make birdwatching all the more interesting and leads me to wonder whether the term ‘bird brain’ should be taken as an insult. Birding brings me immense joy. And it is even more thrilling when a greater racket-tailed drongo is around because who knows what it might be up to!

Further Reading

Goodale, E. and S. W. Kotagama. 2006. Vocal mimicry by a passerine bird attracts other species involved in mixed-species flocks. Animal behaviour 72(2): 471-477.

Goodale, E., C. P. Ratnayake and S. W. Kotagama. 2014. The frequency of vocal mimicry associated with danger varies due to proximity to nest and nesting stage in a passerine bird. Behaviour 151(1), 73-88.

A MEMORABLE WEEK IN PAKKE TIGER RESERVE

Pakke Tiger Reserve is located in the Pakke Kessang district of Arunachal Pradesh, a state in India’s Northeast. It covers an area of 862 sq. km and is surrounded by Papum Reserve Forest in the east, Nameri National Park to the south and southeast, Doimara Reserve Forest and Eaglenest Wildlife Sanctuary in the west, and the Shergaon Forest Division in the north.

One November morning I received a call from Rajen Tachang, a Green Hub Fellow based out of Seijosa, in Arunachal Pradesh, asking if I would like to join him on an expedition into the core zone (core zone is where the actual forest exist and is given maximum protection by the forest department) of Pakke Tiger Reserve. A few weeks later, I met Rajen at Kandra bhaiya’s home in Seijosa. Kandra bhaiya was a member of the Special Tiger Protection Force (STPF), who was assigned to accompany us, and had been working with Rajen on planning the trip into the Reserve.

Forest guards like these work on a meagre salary, risking their lives daily, to protect and preserve our natural world.

We set out on two motorbikes the next day. I fell off my bike countless times as we rode through impossible terrains and rivers. One of the most exciting moments of the trip was on the first day as we were crossing the buffer zone (buffer zone is the area around the core zone which is open for restricted and regulated human economic activities like tourism), on our way to the core zone. Kandra bhaiya and I found, what according to him was, a very fresh pugmark of a tiger; and to make things more exciting, he said he was still able to catch the scent of the tiger! But when I tried sniffing the air, I could only smell our sweat and nothing else.

Unexpected rain meant wet boots for the whole trip, but we were able to pause and take in the beauty of the rainbow.

After a whole day’s journey from Seijosa, we reached the Panchali Anti-Poaching Camp, around 23 km inside Pakke. That evening, from our front yard to a drop of around 60 feet below, we bore witness to several animals (like wild boar, monitor lizard, sambar deer, barking deer, porcupine and also many pug marks of leopard, tiger, and bear), who came to the stream for a drink.

Every night, we would sit by the fire and exchange stories.

From Panchali Camp, it took two days of continuous trekking to reach our destination, a place called Champing Pung—a salt lick. As we zigzagged across deep rivers, we were rewarded for the tough trek by scenes of beautiful fish swimming past in the crystal-clear water.

Kandra bhaiya and Laguna bhaiya observing two wild elephants at the salt lick—Champing Pung—early one morning.

Early on the third morning, as we were about to reach our destination, Kandra bhaiya, who was leading, suddenly pointed towards the top of a waterfall. It was then that I spotted a beautiful creature called the Himalayan serow. We also managed to get the first photographic record—other than from camera traps—of the Himalayan serow in Pakke Tiger Reserve.

We caught a glimpse of a Himalayan serow. Aside from camera trap images, this is the first photographic record of the species in Pakke Tiger Reserve.

What an adventure it had been!  From riding through a thick forest on a motorbike as well as on elephant back, and from stumbling upon wild elephants and wild boars to my first-ever sighting of a Himalayan serow, my time in Pakke Tiger Reserve was special. I treasure those memories not only for the thrilling experiences, but also for the amazing people I had the privilege of connecting with. 

Photo essay by Thejavikho Chase, Fellow at Green Hub

Dusky crag-martin

There’s mischief outside my window —
a little black bird pretending to be a fish!
Like a wave, she drifts through the sky,
dives straight down and moves
just as quickly upwards to startle the wind.
Like the weight of a breeze on my palm
she is hardly there,
twisting mid-air to the sounds of general living.
Her tiny wings just two strokes of paint,
her beak, a single dot,
her chirps as loud as the wind swooning by;
I am yet to see her feet,
her fine tail runs seamlessly from the length of her body.
She is like a punctuation mark chasing
an incomplete sentence.
To call her a bird would be prosaic,
she is a poem in the sky.


The Last Stand

It is the 2nd of February 2053.

I am going to tell you how the last of the wild corals were born.

Corals were capable of building reefs for 500 million years, until the temperature of the sea began to soar. When the myth of rising temperatures soon turned real, scientists began to realize that it was too late to save the world’s biggest reef. The Great Barrier, had been reduced to small fragmented mounds, devoid of life, and far from the thriving ecosystem it had once been. Last November the sea surface temperatures in Australia averaged above 34 degree Celsius, making it almost impossible for any rehabilitation effort to succeed. The only living representatives of the once abundant corals were now maintained in aquariums under thermostatic conditions at Reef Headquarter, Townsville – one of the largest reef aquariums in the world.

Coming back to how the last of the reef building corals were born in the wild, it was a surprise in every way. I never imagined having the privilege of observing the phenomenon first-hand. It could have easily gone unnoticed. It had been over 14 years since the world had given up on searching for corals in the wild. I was once a researcher interested in coral reproductive biology, but massive bleaching events wiped the reefs clean from the world’s oceans. Hence, I had moved on to study algal blooms and ocean warming. The probability of being in the right place at the right time, to observe and document the birth of wild corals, still makes me wonder.

The last corals were not the massive gigantic boulder corals that guarded barrier reefs. In fact, they were nowhere near the barrier reefs. In an atoll far away in the Arabian sea, in the deepest depths of a lagoon, stood the last stand of wild coral – the delicate staghorn coral.

Maybe it was because of the monsoons (characteristic of the region) that had given respite from the scorching summers, which had bleached all the other reefs dead, or maybe it was the shelter of the lagoon, which allowed that stand to survive. Whatever the reason, it was the last ideal place in the ocean for a coral species. Leading research on coral had centred on the reefs of Australia, America and other regions where environmental science and climate change research was well-funded, but many countries with more pressing matters to attend to, had forgotten to record the parameters of many of these important pockets of resilience. 

What I saw felt like a dream! I’d anchored my boat in the back reef of the atoll and was sampling the water with my husband, when slowly, tiny pink eggs broke the surface to form a reasonably clear pink slick. I initially refuted the idea, but the pinkness of the slick looked undeniably like that of coral eggs.

 We dived down to a surprising depth of 20 m. This was unnaturally deep for a lagoon. There, in the shadow of a ridge made up of towering dead boulder coral, existed a silent garden, fish flitting in and out of the delicate branches. Almost uniformly sized bushes stood still in the dull moonlight. As I switched on my torch, yellow eggs like spangles floated towards the surface, leaving the blue-tipped branches of their parents – the last surviving corals in the wild. We recorded the event and hurriedly returned to collect the spawn slick, which we cultured into planula larvae. We shipped them to every major coral aquarium that we possibly could. The ‘last stand’ was all over the news.

I had no idea that after all that hype, it would be the last time we would see the stand. The next monsoon, a storm collapsed a section of the already dilapidating reef. This might have made the staghorn coral vulnerable to the temperatures of the open sea. We were too late to react. The last stand had died.

Thanks to overwhelming support, we have currently patched up and reinforced the collapsed sections of the reef with scrap metal from a decommissioned merchant ship. Debris and rock now hold the scaffolding firmly intact, thanks to a team of architects and engineers. Marine life around has gradually returned. Two aquaria have been generous enough to contribute live coral fragments of the same species that we lost. We were also able to transplant fragments from adult coral, grown from the spawn we collected years ago at the same location. However, these cultivated corals would not stand a chance without the protection of the reinforced reef. 

The last wild stand of coral is gone, and no reports of coral in the wild have resurfaced to date. Our only hope lies in genetically modified, temperature resistant corals. However, with sea temperatures now rising to irreconcilable levels, is it too late not just for sensitive corals, but for all marine life? 

Anatomy of a wetland

I am known by many names. When woody trees abound and I resemble a forest, I am a swamp; when I’m not too deep and grasses thrive, I am a marsh. If you spot me along the coast, and you are a keen observer, you would notice plants neatly arranged in zones. This is because the ones that can tolerate salty sea water moving in and out of their root zones, tend to be arranged closer to the shore. Those that have trouble adjusting pitch a tent safely inland. 

I may have you confused at times, especially in the summer. You would be quick to question my very character. But regardless of where I am or what I’m called, two things define me: I’m saturated with water and the plants that grow in and around me love it! Water almost entirely covers my soil all year round and the plants that call me home thrive in flooded conditions. I am known by many names, but you may call me wetland. 

Provider par excellence

I am a refuge for life forms, from microscopic organisms that elude the human eye to mighty beings that soar across the skies. I provide a safe space for them to feed and breed. I satiate the birds with snakes and frogs and the frogs with insect larvae. Many of the roots, leaves, and fruits I nurture are used by humans and animals alike.  

Scaly-breasted munias and mynahs visit me regularly. Feeding on mosquitoes and dragonflies is their thing, as is pecking at the cattail reeds from time to time to refurbish their nests. Toads and frogs join me in welcoming the monsoons with their incessant croaking. The boisterous bullfrogs and green frogs congregate in my waters and the females populate me with their spawn soon after.  

If you happen to be in the city of Chennai, a tapestry of colours is what you will see in winter. Greater flamingos colour me pink, feeding leisurely on my shrimp and molluscs. Did you know, flocks of pintails and garganeys fly thousands of miles all the way from Europe to escape the harsh winters there? They vacation in style, while I keep their bellies full with spotfin barbs and carps that they share with the brahminy kites and ospreys here. 

I not only provide but also help regulate. I am the receptacle that keeps neighbourhoods and cities from flooding when it rains cats and dogs. And in doing so, I also help preserve soil by filtering, collecting, and retaining sediments that come my way. Furthermore, in slowly letting the water I hold pass through the soil, I systematically help replenish the underground water bank.   

Wetland or wasteland? 

Deities guard me; people celebrate me.    

Yet, despite the reverence, I am severely misunderstood. As water levels dip, my worth is aggressively questioned, threatening my very existence. Would I be more “useful” if I were to metamorphose into a housing complex overnight? Or maybe I would serve people better as a garbage dump, instead? Strangely enough, roads cutting right through me seem acceptable to people, even if it means disorienting flocks of birds that fly thousands of kilometers specifically to nest and feed in my waters. And when I am allowed to remain, my integrity is rarely intact. What harm can a little untreated sewage do, right?  

They say streams and rivers remember. When rain falls over a landscape, water finds a way to reach every gully it ever gushed through and depressions it filled up in the past. Water finds me even when I’m altered beyond recognition. Haphazard walkways and streams of sewage may come at me menacingly. Against all odds, I will survive. 

I am a wetland.

Illustrations by Anisha Murali and Denver Pereira (u:i:make)

u:i:make is a design practice that concerns itself with making- to reveal processes and stories emerging from simple observations and studies of nature, materials and handwork embedded in a place. 

The paperboat

“Nothing better than a grey, gloomy rainy day!” thought little Jhanko (pronounced ‘Django’).

He swirled around waving his little fins, swaying to the rhythm of the raindrops drumming on the surface of the pond. It was cold and hazy—that time of the year again, promising a new adventure. 

“There you are!” his mother said as she spotted him, fear and sadness reflected in her eyes. Jhanko was a teenage paradise fish—greyish brown, with a long wavy tail. Black spots that ran from head to tail and his body had a reddish tinge. . His mother, being an adult, had bands on her body instead. 

“Ma, why don’t I have bands like you?” he had asked once. 

“You will get them when you grow up,” she replied.

“Jhanko, look here, son… It’s time for me to go…” she said to him now, “and you are not yet old enough to join me.”

Jhanko sniffled. He swam up and embraced her tightly, not wanting to let go. He would see her again only after a year, in the following rainy season.

His mother was off to Paradise Land, a place she had described to him vividly in bedtime stories. 

“When the first rains of the season come, our home—this shallow, flooded rice field—will be connected to Paradise Land through new streams that will be formed!” she would exclaim.

“In Paradise land, you will make new friends—different kinds of fish from other places. But beware the vicious cranes who will be waiting to snatch you out of the water.  Show them your tail and swim away swiftly, until you lose sight of them.”

“There are mosquito larvae and insects for you to eat there. But the best part is the paper boats!” she said. 

“Paper boats?” Jhanko was curious now. 

“Human children make them. They float on the water. It’s such fun to swim around them! Oh, Jhanko… Paradise Land is a large pond. It’s much deeper than this pond and you have to be careful.”

 “It’s time to go, Jhanko,” his mother repeated, as she patted him on the head with a fin. He watched her swim away, through the hazy waters, until she disappeared from sight. 

Jhanko dreamed of Paradise Land every day. He dreamed of swimming freely in the large pond, playing with the paper boats, relishing the mosquito larvae, listening to the croaking of frogs, waving his fins to the human children, and showing off his beautiful bands.

A year passed. He missed his mom. Jhanko flaunted his new bands and colours. “Rain, rain, come again,” chanted the fish, as they waited for the first shower of the season. Jhanko gazed at the sky all day. When lightning first streaked across the darkened sky, the fish were overjoyed. 

“It’s time to go,” Jhanko said, as he waved his fins, mimicking his mother.

But something was wrong. 

Swimming towards the stream in his Ma’s stories, he was shocked to find a huge concrete wall in front of him. Humans had erected it to stop the stream from flowing further.

 Where was the large stream in Ma’s stories that connects the paddy field with Paradise Land? 

With the way to Paradise Land was closed off, Jhanko’s dreams shattered—all he wanted was to see his mother. The other paradise fish were also clueless and could not guess what had happened.

“Whom should I ask for directions to Paradise Land?” poor Jhanko wondered in confusion. 

“Paradise Land was a lie,” he thought,  gazing tearily at the dark sky.

Suddenly, Jhanko heard a distant splash. He swivelled around to see a bright yellow thing floating above on the shallow surface. He couldn’t believe it! His eyes sparkled with joy. “It’s… It’s a paper boat!” he shouted.

He saw many more coming down the little stream, all of different colours. He waved at the human children who followed the boats along the stream, trying to draw their attention. 

“Hey, this little fish is waving at me,” gasped a boy, waving back at Jhanko. “They must be trying to get to the big pond on the other side of this wall. I have seen a lot of paradise fish moving freely to the pond during the rains before.” 

“Poor fish. They are… trapped here,” said another child. “Yeah, you are right. There was no wall here the last time. They are definitely trapped here,” he added. He then ran back to his house and returned with a scoop net.

The children soon started to scoop out the school of fish and released them in the larger pond on the other side of the wall. 

Jhanko felt joy and relief, as he waved thanks to the children who helped him and his school. He was finally in the Paradise Land of his dreams. It was bigger than he imagined. The frogs croaked, there were larvae wriggling near the surface. Further ahead, he saw schools of other fish approaching. And at last, he saw his mother waving her fin at him. She darted towards her son and embraced him with joyful tears. 

I would like to acknowledge Harshitha Ramamoorthy (researcher at Bombay Natural History Society) for her support in writing this story.