December 18th, 2013 by mongabay
Photo essay by Jenny Denton
Its natural beauty and colorful Hindu culture have drawn visitors to Bali since the 1930s. But more than three decades of rampant development since mass tourism took hold have left the island and its people in a critical state. Bali is struggling with a severe water shortage, huge volumes of waste, a loss of agricultural land and forest, and an influx of foreign investors and workers that threaten to overwhelm the Balinese people. As local environmentalists and other commentators explain, though, visitors to Bali have a role to play in addressing the problems.
“I was born in Kuta in the ‘70s and I’ve seen things change so much – especially in Kuta, and other places in Bali – a lot of changes,” says I Gede Ari Astina (Jerinx), environmentalist and drummer for punk rock band Superman Is Dead.
“The [tourism] industry, the machine, is destroying this island. So someone has to do something.”
Professor Thomas Reuter, from Melbourne University’s Asia Institute explains that “the myth of Bali as a worldly paradise or paradise on earth began back in the ’30s and it became more broad-based in the 1960s, particularly as some of the beat generation and the ‘60s–‘70s generation discovered it was possible to travel the world on a shoestring.”
“Small hotels shot up in places like Kuta, usually family‑operated by Balinese people.”
“It was not until the ‘80s that you really got the mass tourism of people who are not just traveling around the world backpacking but are going for a two week holiday wanting to party and that sort of thing.”
“During the Suharto era tourism development became a sort of megaproject—huge hotels with enormous water usage were built, often near to very important temples, which in an Australian context you might call sacred sites.”
“Even during that time of political repression there were some protests about the displacement of rice farmers. But the developers would simply hire some thugs to break the dykes and cut off the farmers’ water supply so they would be more willing to leave.”
“Irrigation is everything in Bali. Balinese agriculture is reliant on irrigated rice traditionally.”
I Gede Ari Astina (Jerinx): “There are so many, so many issues – for example, the water crisis. We don’t have enough clean water for everyone because they just keep building hotels and malls and resorts.”
“We have enough of them already and they just keep building them.”
Thomas Reuter: “Tourists use enormous amounts of water compared to Balinese people. Most people in Bali still have a traditional bathroom, where two people can have a shower with a large bucket of water. The water usage per day of tourists is very much greater. And there are all the swimming pools and the gardens that have to be watered. Bali has now reached a point where the water supply is absolutely exhausted. There isn’t any more water to be distributed and in fact agriculture has suffered.”
From the ROLE (Rivers, Oceans, Lands & Ecology) Foundation: “Despite the high levels of regional and international investment in Bali’s tourism sector many people are not beneficiaries of rapid development, whilst at the same time they are impacted by loss of arable land, environmental degradation and development‑driven inflation on the prices of everyday basic commodities. In addition, development-linked overfishing has reduced traditional job opportunities in this sector for coastal communities.”
“Labor-related immigration into Bali has increased competition in the employment market and this particularly impacts the poor and unskilled from traditional agricultural and coastal economies. Illiterate and unskilled people have limited work opportunities and are increasingly unemployed, underemployed and underpaid.”
I Gede Ari Astina (Jerinx), again: “After the bombing the government was trying to sell everything cheap to attract people to come. And it just got to a point where everything was too cheap and too easy…”
“In the name of the economy, in the name of surviving, we’re having big sales now in Bali. We’re selling our land, we’re selling our pride, we’re selling our environment. We’re selling everything.”
Made Sana, a tour guide in Ubud: “In 10 years maybe no more rice fields.”
I Gede Ari Astina (Jerinx): “This is our island, this is our home, but very, very few Balinese own something in this island. We only work for someone or get hired by someone. Basically we are slaves in our own home. A lot of people predict the future of Bali will be that everything will be owned by non-Balinese and we’ll just work for them and this island won’t be ours anymore.”
“There’s pollution, traffic, the crime rate, the waste—plastic waste everywhere.”
Tri Wahyudi Purnomo from the Bali Fokus Foundation http://balifokus.asia/balifokus/: “In Bali, approximately 10,000 tonnes of waste is produced a day (or maybe more), around 70 per cent organic waste and 30 per cent non-organic waste.”
The ROLE Foundation again: “More than 5,000 tonnes of illegal trash is dumped every day in the rivers, the sea, the drains and the gullies. When rubbish is not dumped, it is burnt, and not only is the environment threatened but people’s health as well.”
“Liquid, air and solid waste are washing down and polluting the beaches, the reefs and the oceans.”
Tri Wahyudi Purnomo from Balifokus again: “Hotels and villas are growing year after year. With the three big projects to prepare Bali for modernisation, globalisation and liberalisation—the airport expansion, the toll road and the underpass—you can imagine how much more crowded it will get and how much more the waste problem is going to grow if it’s not properly handled. The reality is that almost all rubbish dumps are overloaded.”
From Ubud monkey forest website: “Despite the fact that many species of macaques thrive in areas that are heavily utilized by humans, there is evidence that the viability of Balinese long-tailed macaques (the ability of macaques to continue to thrive) may be dependent upon the conservation of Bali’s forested areas.”
Wayan Gendo Suardana from WALHI (Friends of the Earth Indonesia) Bali: “Bali is badly in need of at least 8 percent more forest, as the ideal quantity of forest cover is a minimum 30 percent of the total area.”
Jerinx, again: “Because the education in Bali is not as good as some other countries, it would be cool if people who come to Bali can share knowledge and share goodwill with the locals here … by volunteering or just by good example”.
The ROLE Foundation has built an ‘island sustainability centre’ on 1.5 hectares of land at Sawangan, Nusa Dua, on the Bukit Peninsula. “ROLE Foundation is a non-profit humanitarian organisation whose aim is to improve the education, wellbeing and self-reliance of people living in underprivileged circumstances, whilst ensuring environmental resilience and sustainability.
Thomas Reuter from Melbourne University: “The way people organize their holidays and most importantly where they stay and what they do does make a difference, and it’s important to be aware of that and try to spend your money where you think it might actually make a difference to the local people, because that is certainly one way to empower them.”
Jerinx: “For the long term it’s very important that tourists set a good example. If you can’t do something in your country, don’t do it in Bali. It’s very important so that everyone can see the good Bali, the beautiful Bali.”
“That should be the reason to come here, not because it’s cheap and you can do whatever you want. If that’s your reason, maybe better not come.”
Click here to see a list of Environmental and other NGOs working in Bal:
December 6th, 2013 by mongabay
Reader contribution by Jean-Baptiste Pouchain
A loggerhead hatchling. Photo by Jean-Baptiste Pouchain.
A loggerhead mother laying on the beach at sunset. Photo by Jean-Baptiste Pouchain.
Among the shadows of the night, I finally spot them: fresh tracks, coming from the sea and making
their way to the obscurity of the sand dunes. Somewhere up there, a sea turtle is looking for an ideal
nesting site. Silently, I lie down on the wet ground and start crawling, all my senses on the watch, along
the crescent-like marks. I hear her before seeing her: a muffled noise of sand thrown in the air. Then,
the moonlight unveils a perfectly round carapace engaged in a pendulum-like motion. My weeks long
training to become a tagger tells me that she started digging her egg chamber. My work will start in
about ten minutes. I seize the opportunity to enjoy the greek summer’s nocturnal sky illuminated by the
shooting stars. When everything becomes silent, I carefully move forward until I’m behind the shell.
A loggerhead mother returning to sea. Photo by Jean-Baptiste Pouchain.
A loggerhead nest with four eggs. Photo by Jean-Baptiste Pouchain.
There is the loggerhead turtle, or Caretta-Caretta, distinctively brown and endowed with a large head
and a powerful beak. I observe her contractions, characterized by a steady vertical stretching of the
hind flippers, before flashing my infra-red light towards the egg chamber: a small quantity of pingpong-
like eggs is already there, while others keep falling from the reptile’s cloaca. From now on, doped
by a hormonal spurt, the turtle is unaware of the world around her. It’s time to set up the tagging
equipment: the PIT, a chip inserted in the front left flipper’s muscle via a large-gauge needle; the plastic
and the metallic tags, respectively attached between the scales of the hind left and front right flippers
with different applicators. Measurements of the carapace and a superficial statement of the animal’s
health will complete the process. If the turtle is rather old, calm and experienced, the tagging should
prove to be easy and last about twenty minutes, between the moments she covers the eggs, camouflages
the nest and goes back to sea. If she lays for the first time, it is likely that she will struggle, flap the air
with her powerful flippers, and even try to bite. But this one turtle comes as a surprise to me. While
inspecting her, my eyes are suddenly caught by a small, yellowish shape on the hind flipper: a
rectangular piece of plastic with a code. She has already been tagged. That is something I had been
expecting for a little while now, and a meaninful event as a part of ARCHELON‘s program; tags
allowing us to follow the turtles’ migrations and study their nesting patterns. A quick glance at my
logbook: I discover that she was tagged exactly two weeks ago by one of my colleagues, on this same
sector of Kyparissia beach. Turtles can lay more than four times within the nesting season, that
stretches from mid-May to mid-August and tend to come back to the same place. But they also achieve
long migrations through the seas: turtles tagged on the neighboring island of Zakynthos have thus
emerged from the Bay of Kyparissia to nest.
Volunteers checking on marked nest sites. Photo by Jean-Baptiste Pouchain.
One of the marked nest sites. Photo by Jean-Baptiste Pouchain.
A loggerhead mother returning to sea after laying. Photo by Jean-Baptiste Pouchain.
That is all the beauty of these reptiles, which survived the dinosaurs and never ceased to come out
under the moon to lay their eggs on the world’s sands from then on. It is such a primeval behaviour that
the holiday-makers Dimitris and Anna Margaritoulis witnessed during a mass nesting on Zakynthos in
the summer of 1977. Their life was forever transformed, and ARCHELON, the Sea Turtle Protection
Society of Greece, was officially created in 1983. Their efforts to communicate about the loggerheads,
via articles and conferences, were the basics of turtle monitoring and protection programs in Europe,
and participated in rooting them in the greek consciousness. With financial support from WWF
International and the scientific community, they identified other nesting sites of importance through
Greece, including the bay of the Kyparissia; and initiated actions of public awareness as well as tagging
programs. The task wasn’t always easy, and Zakynthos, historically the heart of the organization and the
island with the biggest nests density, faced the storm before achieving its goal: the establishment of a
marine national park in 1999. Volunteers, the main workforce of ARCHELON, were subjected to
violence from the locals and tensions culminated with a bomb exploding in the premises of the
organization, often considered by many land owners as a threat to their activities. Today, Zakynthos is
back to more friendly feelings, but the Peloponnesus has come to face similar issues. And I just need to
walk back to ARCHELON’s van at the end of my tagging’s night to be reminded of it. Our four tyres
have been properly slashed, the engine is unroadworthy. Panick, anger. We know perfectly well who is
behind it, because they are the same people that, day after day since the beginning of this 2013 season,
have been trying to prevent us from doing our work in the name of real estate and money. Welcome to
ARCHELON, the volunteering program that can offer within a single night the most exciting of
wildlife encounters, as well as the premises of an ecological war.
A loggerhead female swims out to sea. Photo by Jean-Baptiste Pouchain.
Photo by Jean-Baptiste Pouchain.
A loggerhead hatchling. Photo by Jean-Baptiste Pouchain.
A loggerhead hatchling. Photo by Jean-Baptiste Pouchain.
It took me little time to learn that the organization had alone dared to stand up against illegal
development. I had just arrived at its base camp, on the Western coast of Peloponnesus, for a two
months volunteering during the nesting and hatching seasons. Before being trained to be a tagger, I had
followed other volunteers from different countries in their main task: morning surveys, carried out by
groups of three to five people over 10 km of sandy beach to look for and protect turtle nests. We had to
spot all the tracks from the previous night, to determine whether they led to an actual nest, and to
protect it from predators and human disturbances with metallic grids and bamboos. My first impression
had been that of a preserved environment, barely known of the tourists. The beautiful scenery and the
excitement of a treasure hunt-like volunteering were only matched by the physically demanding work
and the unbearable heat. Then, I had noticed that we were being followed by a rather unpleasantlooking
man with a dog. I had been told he was an observer, nicknamed “Napoleon”. A local real-estate
company had hired him, as well as others, to collect informations about our
work and try to prove that ARCHELON wasn’t carrying any serious study out, and was even falsifying
field datas, for instance by dividing the nests in order to increase their total number. The firm was then
hoping to crush the main obstacle to its goal: the illegal building of 50 luxurious villas on one of the
main nesting site of loggerhead turtles, protected by the Natura 2000 networking european program.
Development had already caused major damages to the bay’s ecosystem when its caterpillars had
wiped out parts of the pine forest and sand dunes habitat bordering the beach, in order to build five
illegal roads. The survival of the loggerheads, classified “endangered” on the IUCN Red List, had been
more compromised and some of the coast’s inhabitants had then dared to demonstrate. Nowadays, if the
proposed plan has been stopped by ministerial decision, the firm’s methods have switched to the
guerilla warfare; vandalizing our van or sending intrusive, and sometimes aggressive, observers being
only a few of its multiple aspects. That is how, from appalling discoveries to reactive measures, the
2013 volunteering season within ARCHELON is torn between joy and bitterness. One day, the public’s
awareness raised through conferences and slide-shows fills us with satisfaction; the day after, we
experience frustration upon discovering that turtle tracks have been scrubbed and nests’ protections,
stolent during the night. The morning surveys’ excitement alternates with the fear to be threatened, or
even bullied, while tagging in the dark. The locals, once standing for their rights, refuse to take part
nowadays. The code of silence prevails, and those who push turtles away with their lights seem to have
been granted impunity; forcing ARCHELON to set up night patrols on the beach. For the first time
since 1989, we were obliged to shut our seasonal information kiosque down. This is how the
organization has become a textbook case of today’s world’s conservation issues, when development and
money clash with nature and preservation.
Like every turtle species in the world, anthropogenic threats to the loggerheads are the main cause of
their decreasing number: bycatches from fisheries; trawling, that drowns the air-needing reptiles in
giant nets; plastic bags, which are confused by turtles with jellyfish; or the illegal wildlife trade, mostly
for the asian market. In the bay of Kyparissia, and especially next to the small town of Kalo Nero,
turtles are subjected to land disturbances, such as tourists inconsiderately encouraged by a hotel owner
to look for them at night; or beach bars with flashing lights and invading chairs. Panagiota Theodorou,
project coordinator in the Peloponnesus, denounces this illegal development by a contradiction: “these
sites are the property of all of us, that will benefit us on the long-term much more than a short-lived
building activity. It’s like slaughtering the goose that lays the golden eggs…” Not to mention the turtles’
ecological importance, a key-species to the environmental balance. Not only do they regulate other
marine species such as jellyfish (and, a fortiori, plankton and fish), but the nutrients coming from the
eggs laid in the sand contribute to the stabilisation of the dune system and minimize the beach erosion.
Hence the essential mission of public awareness to which ARCHELON is commited since the
beginning, that prides itself to inform over 35 000 people annually, in Zakynthos only. Unfortunately, the
project is getting no help from a Greek state in dereliction, tainted by corruption and deprived of
satisfying, enforced environmental laws. Some stubborn Greek people are inclined to every extremism,
illegal development being one of the worst. “The environment is always the first thing being inflicted,
regrets Theodorou. But the economic crisis and unemployment that exist in our country should not be
an excuse for actions that will lead to reckless destruction of habitats and areas of high ecological
value. The State will have to make up for the damages to Kyparissia’s bay.” However, as of today, an
efficient turtle conservation system has yet to be implemented: they still suffer great disturbances
throughout Greece. Because of this violation of articles 6 and 12 of the Habitats Directive 92/43/CEE;
the country, as part the of the Europe-wide Natura 2000 network of nature protection areas, received a
reasoned opinion from the European Comission in October 2012. Since then, nothing.
When the nesting season comes to an end, it is replaced by the hatchling season, after about 55 days
of incubation. Despite all the issues that ARCHELON had to face this year, we protected the highest
number of nests ever recorded: over 1500, twice as much as the previous year. For the first time,
Kyparissia has become the most important nesting site for loggerhead turtles in Europe, before
Zakynthos. The chaotic profusion of hatchlings rushing to the sea offers a touching contrast to the
feeble arguments of ARCHELON’s enemies. “We are now witnessing the consequences of the great
work carried out by the organization for 30 years, explains Celine Campana, veterinary-nurse and
returning volunteer. Our volunteering program made this increase in nests number possible, thanks to
worldly people who come to experience something new, and then come back because it’s the best thing
they have ever done. We train them, give them responsibilities, and they are rewarded by close
encounters with sea turtles.” If the 2013 season is a conservation success, the organization’s protocols
can be improved, stresses Theresa Stewart, ecologist and monitoring leader at Kyparissia camp. “I
believe that a more holistic approach to habitat management is required in this area. A habitat
management plan should incorporate the entire coastal ecosystem, which includes the beach, sand
dunes and coastal pine forest, which should be protected as a whole and not as individual habitats as
the degradation of one will ultimately impact another.” The long-term goal for Kyparissia is the same
as Zakynthos: the establishment of a protected marine national park. In hope that today’s volunteers
will be able to come back in 15 years without witnessing the same damages inflicted, for instance, to
Crete: its Rethymno beach, once roamed by turtles, is nowadays mostly filled with beach chairs.
According to Stewart, a middle-ground is possible: “ARCHELON has a motto which is “We can all
live together”. The thought behind this is that humans can use the beach in the day time and we can
then remove all of the beach furniture when the sun sets and leave the beach at night only for turtles.
Appropriately designed mitigation schemes can work to incorporate measures that minimize impact to
the habitats and species present and include habitat creation.” Therefore, in the future, men will have to
find a way to come to terms with loggerheads. “I never lose my faith in people and their potential,
concludes Theodorou. Kyparissia needs a local government with a vision, good promotion strategies
and a strong will for work in order to develop the area in a sustainable way.”
I remember the night of August 6th. I had just tagged a turtle whose nest was right next to one of
Hotel Irida’s beach chair, in Kalo Nero. The owner was notoriously bad-tempered, and I knew this nest
would be the source of issues for the morning team. The next day, while my colleagues were trying to
protect it, he and his wife had rushed towards them and started pulling violently the bamboo sticks out
of the sand, in order to dig and make sure it was an actual nest. Volunteers had defended themselves,
locals had joined the melee, and the police had intervened. Suddenly, 18 hatchlings had come out of a
neighboring nest together and, covered in sand, had run to the sea under the guard of volunteers and
marvelled tourists. Those turtles that would perhaps come back to nest at this very same place had just
put an end to the drama with a glimmer of hope.
Note: The information in this post is the opinion of a guest contributor. Any views expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views or endorsement of mongabay.
December 3rd, 2013 by mongabay
By Natalie Millar
With recent surveys showing the rate of deforestation in the Amazon averaging 2,000 square miles each year, we are at a time where conservation of the rainforest is becoming more and more critical. Threats like logging and illegal gold mining are becoming more prominent, particularly in the Peruvian Amazon, where mercury used in gold mining devastates habitat and pollutes waterway, threatening fauna and local communities. Mercury is used to amalgamate particles of gold, and is then burned off afterwards leaving the nugget of gold intact underneath, but excess mercury forms pits, intermittently staining the rainforest landscape.
Río Huaypetue gold mine in Peru. Photo by Rhett A. Butler.
Madre de Dios in southeastern Peru is contaminated with approximately 30 to 40 tonnes of mercury each year, and now 78% of Madre de Dios residents have dangerously high levels of mercury in their bodies.
According to the Amazon Conservation Association (ACA) in 2010 gold miners felled over 370,000 acres of forest to make room for illegal mines (with 50% of these being small, informal set ups) and since then it is predicted that these numbers have soared.
It’s hard when presented with numbers like 370,000 acres or 2,000 square miles to visualize the extent of the damage, as our brains can’t understand the complexity of the very large, or the very small. The “One Tree In A Billion” project based in Tambopata, Peru, unlike most other rainforest studies, is focusing on a single fig tree and documenting all of the species this single tree can support over a 60-day period, to show what we lose each time a tree is felled. Being carried out by three wildlife photographers and endorsed by WLT, the project will use camera trapping, macro-photography and infrared to compile a visual catalog of the life in the area.
Forest along bank of Tambopata river in Peru. Photo by Rhett A. Butler / mongabay.com
Birds, mammals, reptiles, amphibians and invertebrates will all be documented, using a wide array of techniques and equipment. Birds will be photographed from hides for the most part, but mist nets will also be set up around the subject tree to temporarily capture any birds, enabling the team to photograph them before their release. These mist nets will be kept open during the night, to capture any bats that may inhabit or travel around the fig tree. Infrared cameras and non-lethal traps will be used to document mammal species, whilst non-lethal malaise traps will capture flying insects. Insects and invertebrates that may be too small to identify with the naked eye will be photographed through a light microscope. Pitfall traps will be set up in various areas around the diameter of the tree, to temporarily capture reptiles and amphibians, while headlamps are to be used at night to detect the glowing eye-shine of the many frog species found in the rainforest.
The photographs will be used to make a field guide, to aid local research scientists and local conservation groups, as well as being part of an interactive roadshow in the UK, to educate children on the importance of the protection of this diverse landscape. The project is being covered by Photography Monthly Magazine amongst others, with the hope that radio and TV productions will pick up the story, and convey the importance of the conservation of the Amazon to a wider audience.
All of the equipment, construction of hides, and transportation is costly, so the team have started a kickstarter page offering the chance to become a backer, and be involved in the project.
December 3rd, 2013 by mongabay
Mother giant armadillo with baby in Baia des Pedras. Photo by: The Pantanal Giant Armadillo Project.
The elusive and unknown giant armadillo (Priodontes maximus) is rarely caught by the lights of a camera, and never before has a baby giant armadillo been captured on film – until now. This unprecedented image has garnered recognition from the 2013 BBC Wildlife Magazine Camera Trap photo competition.
The photo, along with another winning image, is the result of the hard work of the Pantanal Giant Armadillo Project. Dr Arnaud Desbiez, the Regional Coordinator for Conservation & Research in Latin America for Royal Zoological Society of Scotland, and a leader of the project, said: “Collecting two awards in the BBC Wildlife camera-trap competition, one as a runner up and one a commendation, is an amazing accolade for the project. The worldwide competition actually had an incredible 850 entries from spots as far apart as Argentina, Bangladesh, Borneo and Hawaii, so it is particularly special to have received this recognition.
“We are particularly delighted as one of the main goals of the Pantanal Giant Armadillo Project is to raise awareness of this species. Many people in the Pantanal actually live their whole lives without seeing a giant armadillo and some even believe the creature is a myth. And did you know that due to its low population density, nocturnal activity and secretive nature, the giant armadillo could go locally extinct without anyone noticing? It is really vital we do everything we can to increase awareness and develop our understanding of this mysterious creature.”
A unique kind of contest, the four-year-old BBC Wildlife Magazine Camera-trap Photo of the Year competition actually awards the prize money to the winning conservation projects instead of individual photographers. Judges for the competition select winners by evaluating the contribution that each image makes to scientific knowledge.
Mongabay has covered the capture of this image and the work of the Pantanal Giant Armadillo Project in recent months.
Arnaud Desbiez and Danilo Kluyber looking at camera trap pictures. Photo by: The Pantanal Giant Armadillo Project.
November 21st, 2013 by mongabay
November 21st, 2013 by mongabay
Bouba, WCS Queen’s Zoo’s newest Andean bear. Photo by Julie Larsen Maher / WCS.
The Andean bear (Tremarctos ornatus) is the only endemic bear on the continent of South America. The IUCN lists the species as Vulnerable to risk of extinction, with habitat loss and hunting as drivers behind its dwindling numbers. This elegant species is sometimes referred to as the spectacled bear due to occasional markings around the eyes that resemble glasses.
The Wildlife Conservation Society’s Queens Zoo has welcomed an ambassador of the Andean bear, a 2 year-old male named Bouba. Hailing from a zoo in France, Bouba will share his new home with a female friend of the same species, Spangles.
WCS conducts research on Andean bears across multiple countries in South America and aims to develop local habitat conservation of the Andean bear and mitigate threats such as human-wildlife conflict. WCS works in tandem with Cleveland Metroparks Zoo and Cleveland Zoological Society, the Andean Bear Conservation Alliance, and other supporters to protect the future of the Andean bear. You can learn more about their efforts or donate to the projects by going to wcs.org.
November 14th, 2013 by mongabay
By Peter Essick
Our Beautiful, Fragile World: The Nature and Environmental Photographs of Peter Essick
Our Beautiful, Fragile World features a career-spanning look at the images of photojournalist Peter Essick taken while on assignment for National Geographic magazine. In this book, Essick showcases a diverse series of photographs from some of the most beautiful natural areas in the world and documents major contemporary environmental issues, such as climate change and nuclear waste.
Each photograph is accompanied by commentary on the design process of the image, Essick’s personal photographic experiences, and informative highlights from the research he completed for each story. Our Beautiful, Fragile World takes the reader on a journey around the globe, from the Oulanka National Park near the Arctic Circle in Finland to the Adelie penguin breeding grounds in Antarctica.
Our Beautiful, Fragile World will interest photographers of all skill levels. It carries an important message about conservation, and the photographs provide a compelling look at our environment that will resonate with people of all ages who care about the state of the natural world.
An excerpt from the text – The Boreal: A Great Forest Under Threat
The boreal forest is often referred to as Earth’s Green Crown. Tucked between the tundra to the north and the temperate zones to the south, the boreal region stretches across central Alaska, Canada, Scandinavia, and a huge swath of Siberian Russia. I jumped at the chance to do a story about these beautiful forest landscapes and contemporary environmental issues.
Photo by Peter Essick.
For the coverage, I wanted to photograph the boreal forest in every season. Winter in Russia sounded like great material, so I flew to St. Petersburg in April of 1999 for a six-week trip. My guide, Max, and I hired a driver and headed north towards the forests of Karelia. The first day’s drive ended when we had a flat tire somewhere that I couldn’t find on my map. On the third day, we arrived at a Russian Strict Nature Preserve near the Finnish border.
The preserves are usually reserved for scientists and are not open to the public. Max was able to negotiate access and persuade a ranger to stay with us at a guesthouse in the preserve. I took many pictures during our stay, the best being one of a solitary man walking by in a snowstorm after being caught fishing illegally. Each night after photographing, the three of us would go into a sauna behind the house. After about a half an hour of sweating, Max and the ranger would jump out and roll around in the snow as I watched in disbelief.
In the Ural Mountains, we had to hire a Russian helicopter to fly into a remote valley in the Komi National Park. We planned to stay in a lodge for three days and then have the helicopter return for us. On the third day, there was a blinding snowstorm, the helicopter arrived anyway. During the flight out, Max panicked when he realized the pilot was flying almost blind. Fortunately, we landed safely and continued on our trip.
Next, I set out for Canada and Alaska in mid-summer. The distances are great, but I didn’t have to deal with the big language and cultural divides that I faced in Russia. Near Winnipeg in Manitoba, I took an aerial photo of a log yard of old-growth trees from the boreal forest. I later learned that the timber was being turned into pulp to make newsprint, a sad irony for me as a photojournalist.
I timed my trip to Sweden in the fall to photograph the autumn colors. The tree species of pine, spruce, and birch are all remarkably similar in the boreal forests around the globe. The deciduous birch trees’ leaves turn golden-yellow in the fall, and I found some nice colors at Färnebofjärden National Park on the southern edge of the boreal. In Swedish Lapland, I was driving down a remote dirt road when all of the sudden a large group of reindeer appeared and crossed the road. A Sami man was herding several hundred through the forest. Then, right in front of me, two of the reindeer started locking their horns. The males were so engrossed in their fight for mating rights that I was able to photograph them closely for several minutes.
Scientists now know that the boreal forest plays a key role in the future of climate change. Huge amounts of carbon and methane are locked up in the bogs and permafrost. If these greenhouse gases are released by global warming, the consequences are frightening.
November 7th, 2013 by mongabay
A 285 lbs baby Asian elephant (Elephas maximus), that is.
Max and his mom. Photo courtesy of Stefan Groeneveld / ZSL Whipsnade Zoo.
Max was on his feet in just a few minutes and entertaining his keepers and elephant family with his independent and playful nature.
Max is now three weeks old and zookeeper Stefan Groeneveld said: “[He] has come on so much in just three weeks and is already showing an independent streak. He’ll happily leave his mum’s side to go and play in the paddock with the rest of the herd.”
Asian elephants are listed as Endangered on the IUCN Red List, and scientists estimate there are just 30,000 to 35,000 of these giants left in the wild, with major threats including habitat loss, forest degradation and fragmentation, and human-elephant conflict. ZSL and the Elephant Conservation Network (ECN) have been working in collaboration with the Salakpra Wildlife Sanctuary in Thailand for years to address conflict, protecting swaths of forest and helping locals develop sustainable practices that allow the forest to remain intact.
Max enjoying his new home. Photo courtesy of Stefan Groeneveld / ZSL Whipsnade Zoo.
October 31st, 2013 by mongabay
By Simon Bradley and Tammy Mildenstein
It’s Halloween time again, and around much of the world people are decorating with images of ghosts, vampires, witches, black cats, and, of course, bats.
For the superstitious, there may be nothing scarier than the flying foxes of the Philippines, whose 2-meter wingspans make them the largest bats in the world!
In keeping with a popular fear and mistrust of nocturnal animals, Philippine flying foxes (which are actually fruit bats) are associated with a rogue’s gallery of eerie spirits that haunt Philippine nights and minds. While entertaining and spine-tingling, the lingering power of these associations can present challenges for bat conservation, but can also open up opportunities for engaging with the public. Tammy Mildenstein of SOS – Save Our Species project Filipinos for Flying Foxes, describes some of the legends she has encountered in her time working to protect these creatures.
The evening departure of thousands of flying foxes overhead could send the superstitious running for cover. Credit Tammy Mildenstein, Filipinos For Flying Foxes
Perhaps, most closely resembling this magnificent bat is Manananggal whose legend mirrors the same distribution pattern throughout Southeast Asia as flying foxes. This “aswang” – a Filipino term for a variety of vampire-like creatures – is a woman by day, but transforms into a fearsome predator after dark. As families prepare to slumber, Manananggal’s torso detaches in the middle, while the upper half grows bat wings allowing her to fly through the night in search of her prey: unborn babies. According to the myth, Manananggal lands on the roof of a home and drops her long, needle-thin tongue into the belly of a pregnant woman in her sleep to feast. Grisly and chilling? Yes. True? Unlikely, but a great ice-breaker for talking about flying foxes and setting the record straight on the true cultural and economic value of flying foxes, according to Tammy Mildenstein. Flying foxes are fruit bats, she explains, they don’t feed on human blood much less unborn babies.
Indeed there are others in the menagerie of mythological and winged menaces – all seemingly drawing inspiration from the Philippines’ rich diversity of bat species. For example there is Tik-tik and Wak-wak – both similar to Manananggal, named respectively, for their “tik-tik” nocturnal calls and the “wak-wak” sound of their airy flapping wings, both of which are reminiscent of the sounds made by flying foxes in flight at night. Yet another is Tiyanak – a creature in the form of a human baby, but with fangs and sharp claws that flies away as a black bird. Capre and Tikbalang take on other animal forms, and are said to be found in fig trees at night with red reflective eyes just like fruit bats.
Meanwhile, aside from inspiration for scares at bedtime, scientific research has shown these amazing creatures are vital to human survival. As pollinators and seed dispersers, flying foxes for example, are essential for maintaining natural forests, often the only source of fresh water, air, and timber and non-timber forest products. Flying foxes are also known to pollinate hundreds of agriculturally important crops for the region, explains Mildenstein.
Ironically, being nocturnal it is flying foxes which can become easily stressed by diurnal human presence near their nest sites. That is why a central component of the Filipinos for Flying Foxes project is to establish six roost sanctuaries to boost species populations allowing the bats and local communities to live in harmony.
So the legends may live on, and keep a couple of kids awake at night, but maybe if Filipinos for Flying Foxes is successful, staying up past bedtime will be to marvel at the sight of the world’s largest bat taking to the sky as darkness falls….all around you! Mwuhahaha! Happy Halloween!
October 30th, 2013 by mongabay
By Eleanor Warren-Thomas
Ladybird, Amazon-style. Photo by Eleanor Warren-Thomas.
The day begins at around 5 a.m., when the sounds of motorbikes revving, dogs barking, wood being chopped and shouting men start to permeate the room. I haven’t needed to set my alarm for weeks.
I am here to help run a project on Brazil nut harvesting from lowland rainforests in Madre de Dios, in the Peruvian Amazon. Brazil nut collection from these forests forms a huge part of many people’s livelihood in this area, and the project aims to improve knowledge about the variation in Brazil nut production, which changes among trees and between years for as-yet unknown reasons.
Brazil nut trees, known locally as castaña, take decades to mature and start producing nuts in the wild, so the majority of the productive trees in these concessions are enormous – at least a meter across at the base – and are some of the tallest trees in the forest. Brazil nut trees are protected by law, and in some areas they stand alone in areas cleared for pasture. In many other areas, they form part of standing intact forest within concessions owned by local people, who walk well-managed trails through the forest each year to collect the nuts by hand.
Today we are starting out from the only hospedaje in the little town of Alegria, and will travel about 20 km along a dirt road to visit a castañero who lives in his Brazil nut concession. My colleague and I load the rear pannier of the motorbike with two rucksacks full of tents, food and multiple pairs of socks. Calling in at our favorite breakfast spot, we find that there is ‘no quinoa in town’ so make do with sweet bread and strawberry yogurt from one of the grocery shops. Sitting outside the shop, we attract the attention of two kittens who attempt to scale our trousers, and a puppy who finds he doesn’t have the ability to climb, but is happy to make do with finishing off the yogurt pot.
Motorbike loaded and ready to go. Photo by Eleanor Warren-Thomas.
Squeezed onto the motorbike, we head along the tarmac road out of town, and turn off onto a red dirt road. After rain, these roads take on the texture of butter and are perilous for motorbikes, but today it is dry and fine. The morning is cool and the clouds are low, rubbing out the tops of trees and swirling across the road. We fly along the road and the plastic bag full of eggs and bread that I am clutching flaps madly in the wind. The road is full ofhazards – soft rivulets of mud, hidden bumps, the occasional wooden bridge – requiring expert driving.
The red road. Photo by Eleanor Warren-Thomas.
Forty minutes later we arrive, windblown, under an enormous mango tree dripping with fruit that guards the front of our host’s house. Set in a field of tough tropical grass are several wooden buildings that house grandparents, a daughter, a son and their spouses. Ducks and chickens roam about amongst the fallen fruit, and two dogs bark in cautious greeting. It is mango season here, and the soft thumps of fruits hitting the ground are frequent. We are invited into the kitchen, an airy building with a handmade thatched roof, where a neat three-ringed charcoal burner made of compacted mud is roaring. Two cups of hot “chapo” are handed to us as a welcome second breakfast – sweet plantain mashed with sugar and spices using a specially selected stem of a young “quillabordon” tree that naturally forms a whisk-like shape.
Under the mango tree. Photo by Eleanor Warren-Thomas.
Photo by Eleanor Warren-Thomas.
As the day starts to heat up, our 77-year-old host dons his canvas shoes, picks up his machete and leads us into the forest. We quickly leave the strong sun behind on the open road and enter a perfect green corridor as we follow a narrow logging road into the forest. The huge tire tracks have formed long-lasting puddles in the soft clay soil, that are filled with tadpoles. This part of the forest feels special – we walk for about half an hour without encountering any logged trees, and the forest seems particularly dark green. Hidden birds shout from all around us, and the soft mud reveals the presence of deer, peccary and agouti. The soft ground after rain tells all sort of secrets – in other forests we have seen fresh tapir tracks only hours old, and even ocelot prints.
Ocelot prints. Photo by Eleanor Warren-Thomas.
We veer off the road onto a carefully cleared path, the ground cloaked in big brown leaves from the towering castaña trees. As we crunch along, I have the odd impression of being on a walk through an English woodland on a summer’s day, until my eye is caught by a 6-inch electric blue butterfly floating along the path. Blue morpho butterflies seem to be found everywhere here, often in what seem to be leks of male butterflies flashing their wings at each other in clearings and on paths.
Blue morpho butterfly wing. Photo by Eleanor Warren-Thomas.
Brazil nut trees tower over us at regular intervals, some more than an arm-span in diameter and 40 meters high. The carefully maintained paths lead from tree to tree, each trunk cleaned of lianas and giving the appearance of columns holding up the green canopy. Piles of emptied “cocos” – the hard outer shells that contain sets of individual brazil nuts – lie at intervals along the paths, partially hidden under leaves and ready to twist the ankles of unwary walkers.
A castañero makes a temporary shelter from the rain. Photo by Eleanor Warren-Thomas.
High-pitched squeaking from the trees betrays the presence of saddle-backed tamarins which peer inquisitively at us as we respond with our own squeaky noises. They seem reasonably confident around people despite the fact that they are often taken from the wild as pets here. In the past week howler monkeys, titi monkeys and spider monkeys have all also come within earshot, or even partially into view.
The presence of so many animals despite so much human activity in the forest is wonderful, and seems to demonstrate how fundamental the economic value of brazil nut trees is for the health of these forests. Although selective logging and hunting of local wildlife continues, the presence of producing castaña trees preserves patches of forest where its structure is undisturbed and the shade is deep and cool. Wildlife is persisting well into disturbed areas, but for me the dark green patches feel like safe havens.
After five hours of walking along forest trails our host leads us back to his house in time for lunch, where we are served rice, beans and fried plantain washed down with sweet tea. His wife and daughter spend the day in the house, preparing food for us strangers along with the family without a thought. At 77-years-old, our host understandably prefers to spend the afternoons napping on a bench in the shade of his mango tree, leaving us free to visit the stream that runs past the house and bathe in the sandy bottomed pool they have created through clever use of a log dam. Tiny fish swim about, palm trees provide shade overhead and the musical song of oropendulas drips from the trees. More tamarins swing past to peer at us, as we nibble on mangos and cool our feet in the water. I can’t help but smile as I think back on the day and hope to myself, long may the dark green persist.
Brazil nut flowers. Photo by Eleanor Warren-Thomas.