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Meet the seed collector restoring California’s landscapes - one tiny plant at a time

News Feed
Saturday, April 19, 2025

Deep in California’s agricultural heartland, Haleigh Holgate marched through the expansive wildflower-dotted plains of the San Luis national wildlife refuge complex in search of something precious.She surveyed the native grasses and flowering plants that painted the Central valley landscape in almost blinding swaths of yellow. Her objective on that sweltering spring day was to gather materials pivotal to California’s ambitious environmental agenda – seeds.“Over there it’s a brighter yellow, so I know those flowers are still blooming, rather than going to seed production,” she noted. “Versus over here, it’s these hues of deeper reds and deeper gold. That seed is ready.”As a seed collection manager with the non-profit Heritage Growers native seed supplier, Holgate is tasked with traveling to the state’s wildlands to collect native seeds crucial for habitat restoration projects.The need has become particularly acute as California aims to conserve 30% of its land by 2030, with the governor pledging to restore “degraded landscapes” and expand “nature-based solutions” to fight the climate crisis. And as the Trump administration systematically rolls back efforts to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and protect public lands, the state’s goals have taken on even greater importance.But the rising demand for seeds far outpaces the available supply. California faces an “urgent and growing need” to coordinate efforts to increase the availability of native seeds, according to a 2023 report from the California Native Plant Society. There simply isn’t enough wildland seed available to restore the land at the rate the state has set out to, Holgate said.The Heritage Growers farm in Colusa, California. Photograph: River PartnersBridging the gap starts with people like Holgate, who spends five days a week, eight months of the year, traveling with colleagues to remote spots across the state collecting seeds – an endeavor that could shape California’s landscape for years.That fact is not lost on the 26-year-old. It’s something she tries to remind her team during long, grueling hot days in the oilfields of Kern county or the San Joaquin valley.“What we do is bigger than just the day that we live. The species that we collect are going to make impacts on the restoration industry for decades to come,” Holgate said.Seeds play a vital role in landscape recovery. When fires move through forests, decimating native species and leaving the earth a charred sea of gray ash, or when farmlands come out of production, land managers use native seeds to help return the land to something closer to its original form. They have been an essential part of restoring the Klamath River after the largest dam removal project in US history, covering the banks of the ailing river in milkweeds that attract bees and other pollinators, and Lemmon’s needlegrass, which produces seeds that feed birds and small mammals.California has emphasized the importance of increasing native seed production to protect the state’s biodiversity, which one state report described as “the most imperiled … of any state in the contiguous United States”. Three-quarters of native vegetation in the state has been altered in the last 200 years, including more than 90% of California wetlands, much of them here in the Central valley.For the state to implement its plans, it needs a massive quantity of native seeds – far more than can be obtained in the wild. Enter Heritage Growers, the northern California-based non-profit founded by experts with the non-profit River Partners, which works to restore river corridors in the state and create wildlife habitat.The organization takes seed that Holgate and others collect and amplifies them at its Colusa farm, a 2,088-acre property located an hour from the state capital. (The ethical harvesting rules Heritage Growers adhere to mean that they can take no more than 20% of seeds available the day of collection.)Workers dry the seeds collected in the wild over several weeks, clean them and send them off to a lab for testing. The farm cultivates them to grow additional seeds, in some cases slowly expanding from a small plot to a tenth of an acre, and eventually several acres. The process – from collection to amplification – can take years. Currently, the farm is producing more than 30,000lbs of seeds each year and has more than 200 native plant varieties.A family watches the removal of the Iron Gate dam, near Hornbrook, California, on 28 August 2024. Photograph: San Francisco Chronicle/Hearst Newspapers/Getty ImagesThe goal, general manager Pat Reynolds said, is to produce source-identified native seed and get as much of it out in the environment as possible to restore habitat at scale. The group has worked with federal agencies such as the National Parks Service, state agencies and conservation organizations, and provided seed for River Partners’ restoration efforts of the land that would become California’s newest state park, Dos Rios.The benefit of restoring California’s wildlands extends far beyond the environment, said Austin Stevenot, a member of the Northern Sierra Mewuk Tribe and the director of tribal engagement for River Partners.“It’s more than just work on the landscape, because you’re restoring places where people have been removed and by inviting those people back in these places we can have cultural restoration,” Stevenot said. “Our languages, our cultures, are all tied to the landscape.”He pointed to Dos Rios, where there is a native-use garden within the park where Indigenous people can collect the plants they need for basketweaving.“It’s giving the space back to people to freely do what we would like for the landscape and for our culture,” he said.skip past newsletter promotionThe planet's most important stories. Get all the week's environment news - the good, the bad and the essentialPrivacy Notice: Newsletters may contain info about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. For more information see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.after newsletter promotionJust three farms in California produce thousands of pounds of native seed each year, including Heritage Growers, Reynolds said, meaning that restoration efforts take significant long-term planning. In the case of the Klamath River project, it took at least five years of work – collecting the seed, cleaning it and amplifying it at multiple farms – to obtain the seed necessary to use for river restoration.But before Heritage Growers can amplify seed, Holgate has to gather materials in the wild. Holgate, a sunny and personable seed collector who studied environmental science and management with a focus in ecological restoration, has developed Heritage Growers’ program over the last two years.A field at the Heritage Growers farm. Photograph: Dani AnguianoIn late March, she headed out to scout the Arena plains area of the Merced national wildlife refuge, more than 10,200 acres of protected lands, including wetlands and vernal pools, in the San Joaquin valley. Her winter break had come to an end and collection season was kicking off again, meaning months of travel and logging upward of 1,000 miles a week as she and a group of wildland seed collectors visited dozens of sites across the valley and in the foothills. Collection days typically start when the sun rises, and stretch until it gets too hot to work.In recent weeks, Holgate’s team had planned their collection strategy and surveyed sites to see what plants were available. Getting to the Arena plains area required a 30-minute drive down a bumpy dirt road.In a large white pickup, she passed a large owl perched in a tree and navigated a narrow creekside lane. From her vehicle, Holgate often performs what she describes as “drive-by botany”, quickly scouting the land to see what’s available.She maneuvered through a herd of curious, but cautious, calves before trudging through thick mud and carefully slipping through barbed wire fencing to take in the scene.Equipped with a bucket, a sun hat and a backpack, Holgate was eager to observe the landscape, noting what was seeding and what needed more time. The work is simultaneously thrilling and sometimes tedious, Holgate said as she compared two plants that looked identical but were in fact different species. Seed collectors must be able to distinguish between species to ensure the materials they collect are genetically pure, she noted.The temperature climbed to 89F as she meandered across the plains, noting which species were available and how ripe the seeds were.Holgate monitored a herd of cattle approaching. When she began working in the area, Holgate viewed the creatures and the way they trampled through the vernal pools and chomped on the vegetation as a significant impact to the landscape, she said. But she later learned how grazing can benefit this ecosystem. The depressions cattle make as they move through the area allow seeds to nestle further into the ground, and their grazing reduces invasive grasses, allowing flowers to receive more sunlight and giving them space to bloom, Holgate noted.Chasing down seeds is a nomadic lifestyle in which one has to be OK with long stretches away from home, and an inordinate amount of prepared road food, like bacon and gouda sandwiches from Starbucks, Holgate said, pausing as a coyote and its pup ran through nearby flowers, winding through the cows and heading just out of sight. Along with travel to distant locations from the wildlife refuge to Kern county in the south, Holgate has to return any seeds collected to the Heritage Growers farm within 24 to 48 hours.But the mission is worthwhile, Holgate said. The seeds she collects are expensive, but if they can be amplified and expanded, native seeds will become more abundant and restoration projects can happen more quickly.Haleigh Holgate working in the San Luis national wildlife refuge complex. Photograph: Dani Anguiano“We can restore California faster,” she said. “It’s the only way we are going to be able to restore California at the rate we want to.”The seed collection team has 35 sites they will return to this season. Spending so many hours on the same swaths of land has allowed Holgate and her colleagues to know the areas on a far deeper level than they would if they were just hiking through. It’s left her with a familiarity she can’t shake – that dainty grass isn’t just grass, it’s hair grass, the lighter spots are Hordeum depressum, a type of barley, and the dots of yellow are lasthenia. Sometimes the plants seep into her dreams.“I know that when I’m dreaming about a certain species, I should go check that population and see what’s happening. And normally there’s something going on where it’s like grasshoppers came in and ate all the seed, or the seed is ripe and ready, and I gotta call in a crew,” she said.“I’ve really put my whole heart into this job. I realize it’s more than just getting a paycheck – and it’s more than just doing this restoration for the land. It’s doing restoration for people.”

Native seed demand far outpaces supply for the state’s ambitious conservation plan. This group combs the landscape to address the deficitDeep in California’s agricultural heartland, Haleigh Holgate marched through the expansive wildflower-dotted plains of the San Luis national wildlife refuge complex in search of something precious.She surveyed the native grasses and flowering plants that painted the Central valley landscape in almost blinding swaths of yellow. Her objective on that sweltering spring day was to gather materials pivotal to California’s ambitious environmental agenda – seeds. Continue reading...

Deep in California’s agricultural heartland, Haleigh Holgate marched through the expansive wildflower-dotted plains of the San Luis national wildlife refuge complex in search of something precious.

She surveyed the native grasses and flowering plants that painted the Central valley landscape in almost blinding swaths of yellow. Her objective on that sweltering spring day was to gather materials pivotal to California’s ambitious environmental agenda – seeds.

“Over there it’s a brighter yellow, so I know those flowers are still blooming, rather than going to seed production,” she noted. “Versus over here, it’s these hues of deeper reds and deeper gold. That seed is ready.”

As a seed collection manager with the non-profit Heritage Growers native seed supplier, Holgate is tasked with traveling to the state’s wildlands to collect native seeds crucial for habitat restoration projects.

The need has become particularly acute as California aims to conserve 30% of its land by 2030, with the governor pledging to restore “degraded landscapes” and expand “nature-based solutions” to fight the climate crisis. And as the Trump administration systematically rolls back efforts to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and protect public lands, the state’s goals have taken on even greater importance.

But the rising demand for seeds far outpaces the available supply. California faces an “urgent and growing need” to coordinate efforts to increase the availability of native seeds, according to a 2023 report from the California Native Plant Society. There simply isn’t enough wildland seed available to restore the land at the rate the state has set out to, Holgate said.

The Heritage Growers farm in Colusa, California. Photograph: River Partners

Bridging the gap starts with people like Holgate, who spends five days a week, eight months of the year, traveling with colleagues to remote spots across the state collecting seeds – an endeavor that could shape California’s landscape for years.

That fact is not lost on the 26-year-old. It’s something she tries to remind her team during long, grueling hot days in the oilfields of Kern county or the San Joaquin valley.

“What we do is bigger than just the day that we live. The species that we collect are going to make impacts on the restoration industry for decades to come,” Holgate said.


Seeds play a vital role in landscape recovery. When fires move through forests, decimating native species and leaving the earth a charred sea of gray ash, or when farmlands come out of production, land managers use native seeds to help return the land to something closer to its original form. They have been an essential part of restoring the Klamath River after the largest dam removal project in US history, covering the banks of the ailing river in milkweeds that attract bees and other pollinators, and Lemmon’s needlegrass, which produces seeds that feed birds and small mammals.

California has emphasized the importance of increasing native seed production to protect the state’s biodiversity, which one state report described as “the most imperiled … of any state in the contiguous United States”. Three-quarters of native vegetation in the state has been altered in the last 200 years, including more than 90% of California wetlands, much of them here in the Central valley.

For the state to implement its plans, it needs a massive quantity of native seeds – far more than can be obtained in the wild. Enter Heritage Growers, the northern California-based non-profit founded by experts with the non-profit River Partners, which works to restore river corridors in the state and create wildlife habitat.

The organization takes seed that Holgate and others collect and amplifies them at its Colusa farm, a 2,088-acre property located an hour from the state capital. (The ethical harvesting rules Heritage Growers adhere to mean that they can take no more than 20% of seeds available the day of collection.)

Workers dry the seeds collected in the wild over several weeks, clean them and send them off to a lab for testing. The farm cultivates them to grow additional seeds, in some cases slowly expanding from a small plot to a tenth of an acre, and eventually several acres. The process – from collection to amplification – can take years. Currently, the farm is producing more than 30,000lbs of seeds each year and has more than 200 native plant varieties.

A family watches the removal of the Iron Gate dam, near Hornbrook, California, on 28 August 2024. Photograph: San Francisco Chronicle/Hearst Newspapers/Getty Images

The goal, general manager Pat Reynolds said, is to produce source-identified native seed and get as much of it out in the environment as possible to restore habitat at scale. The group has worked with federal agencies such as the National Parks Service, state agencies and conservation organizations, and provided seed for River Partners’ restoration efforts of the land that would become California’s newest state park, Dos Rios.

The benefit of restoring California’s wildlands extends far beyond the environment, said Austin Stevenot, a member of the Northern Sierra Mewuk Tribe and the director of tribal engagement for River Partners.

“It’s more than just work on the landscape, because you’re restoring places where people have been removed and by inviting those people back in these places we can have cultural restoration,” Stevenot said. “Our languages, our cultures, are all tied to the landscape.”

He pointed to Dos Rios, where there is a native-use garden within the park where Indigenous people can collect the plants they need for basketweaving.

“It’s giving the space back to people to freely do what we would like for the landscape and for our culture,” he said.

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Just three farms in California produce thousands of pounds of native seed each year, including Heritage Growers, Reynolds said, meaning that restoration efforts take significant long-term planning. In the case of the Klamath River project, it took at least five years of work – collecting the seed, cleaning it and amplifying it at multiple farms – to obtain the seed necessary to use for river restoration.

But before Heritage Growers can amplify seed, Holgate has to gather materials in the wild. Holgate, a sunny and personable seed collector who studied environmental science and management with a focus in ecological restoration, has developed Heritage Growers’ program over the last two years.

A field at the Heritage Growers farm. Photograph: Dani Anguiano

In late March, she headed out to scout the Arena plains area of the Merced national wildlife refuge, more than 10,200 acres of protected lands, including wetlands and vernal pools, in the San Joaquin valley. Her winter break had come to an end and collection season was kicking off again, meaning months of travel and logging upward of 1,000 miles a week as she and a group of wildland seed collectors visited dozens of sites across the valley and in the foothills. Collection days typically start when the sun rises, and stretch until it gets too hot to work.

In recent weeks, Holgate’s team had planned their collection strategy and surveyed sites to see what plants were available. Getting to the Arena plains area required a 30-minute drive down a bumpy dirt road.

In a large white pickup, she passed a large owl perched in a tree and navigated a narrow creekside lane. From her vehicle, Holgate often performs what she describes as “drive-by botany”, quickly scouting the land to see what’s available.

She maneuvered through a herd of curious, but cautious, calves before trudging through thick mud and carefully slipping through barbed wire fencing to take in the scene.

Equipped with a bucket, a sun hat and a backpack, Holgate was eager to observe the landscape, noting what was seeding and what needed more time. The work is simultaneously thrilling and sometimes tedious, Holgate said as she compared two plants that looked identical but were in fact different species. Seed collectors must be able to distinguish between species to ensure the materials they collect are genetically pure, she noted.

The temperature climbed to 89F as she meandered across the plains, noting which species were available and how ripe the seeds were.

Holgate monitored a herd of cattle approaching. When she began working in the area, Holgate viewed the creatures and the way they trampled through the vernal pools and chomped on the vegetation as a significant impact to the landscape, she said. But she later learned how grazing can benefit this ecosystem. The depressions cattle make as they move through the area allow seeds to nestle further into the ground, and their grazing reduces invasive grasses, allowing flowers to receive more sunlight and giving them space to bloom, Holgate noted.

Chasing down seeds is a nomadic lifestyle in which one has to be OK with long stretches away from home, and an inordinate amount of prepared road food, like bacon and gouda sandwiches from Starbucks, Holgate said, pausing as a coyote and its pup ran through nearby flowers, winding through the cows and heading just out of sight. Along with travel to distant locations from the wildlife refuge to Kern county in the south, Holgate has to return any seeds collected to the Heritage Growers farm within 24 to 48 hours.

But the mission is worthwhile, Holgate said. The seeds she collects are expensive, but if they can be amplified and expanded, native seeds will become more abundant and restoration projects can happen more quickly.

Haleigh Holgate working in the San Luis national wildlife refuge complex. Photograph: Dani Anguiano

“We can restore California faster,” she said. “It’s the only way we are going to be able to restore California at the rate we want to.”

The seed collection team has 35 sites they will return to this season. Spending so many hours on the same swaths of land has allowed Holgate and her colleagues to know the areas on a far deeper level than they would if they were just hiking through. It’s left her with a familiarity she can’t shake – that dainty grass isn’t just grass, it’s hair grass, the lighter spots are Hordeum depressum, a type of barley, and the dots of yellow are lasthenia. Sometimes the plants seep into her dreams.

“I know that when I’m dreaming about a certain species, I should go check that population and see what’s happening. And normally there’s something going on where it’s like grasshoppers came in and ate all the seed, or the seed is ripe and ready, and I gotta call in a crew,” she said.

“I’ve really put my whole heart into this job. I realize it’s more than just getting a paycheck – and it’s more than just doing this restoration for the land. It’s doing restoration for people.”

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Conservation group names Mississippi River 'most endangered,' cites proposed FEMA cuts

A conservation group on Wednesday named the Mississippi the “most endangered river of 2025,” citing threats to abolish the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), which plays a key role in federal flood management. American Rivers, a nonprofit environmental advocacy group, said the Mississippi River in recent years has faced “increasingly frequent and severe floods,” which...

A conservation group on Wednesday named the Mississippi the “most endangered river of 2025,” citing threats to abolish the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), which plays a key role in federal flood management. American Rivers, a nonprofit environmental advocacy group, said the Mississippi River in recent years has faced “increasingly frequent and severe floods,” which have damaged homes and businesses and worsened the health of the river, which provides drinking water for 20 million people. The organization said the federal government plays a key role in protecting the river and helping homeowners prepare for, and rebuild after, major flooding. Amid concerns about further layoffs at FEMA and as government officials — including Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, who oversees FEMA — threaten to abolish the agency, the conservation group said the risk to the Mississippi River is exceptionally high. “Communities along the river need significant support for disaster prevention and response, as well as river restoration – but the fate of the Federal Emergency Management Agency hangs in the balance,” the report read. The group called on the Trump administration to “modernize FEMA to improve river health and maximize the safety, security, and prosperity of Mississippi River communities.” “The Mississippi River is vital to our nation’s health, wealth and security. We drink from it, we grow our food with it, we travel on it, we live alongside it, and simply, we admire its beauty,” Mike Sertle, American Rivers’ central region director, said in a statement. “We cannot turn our back on Mississippi River communities or the health of the river millions depend on at this critical time when they need unified direction instead of uncertainty at the national level,” Sertle added. A press release from Americans Rivers stressed FEMA’s role in preparing for potential flood damage, not just responding to it, saying the agency develops minimum standards for construction in floodplains and helps relocate flood-prone homes to higher ground. “The most cost-effective way to reduce disaster response costs is to invest in mitigating the impacts of disasters before they happen. Every $1 spent on flood mitigation yields $7 in benefits,” the press release read.

Endangered greater gliders recorded in proposed great koala national park in NSW as logging continues

Conservation groups call for immediate action to protect wildlife as two-year wait for Labor’s promised creation of park continuesGet our afternoon election email, free app or daily news podcastGovernment surveys have found tens of thousands of endangered greater gliders could be living within the proposed area for a great koala national park in New South Wales, prompting new calls for the area to be quickly protected from logging.Data from aerial drone and ground-based surveys at 169 sites within the proposed park were used to model the likely presence of Australia’s largest gliding possum across the entire 176,000 hectares the NSW government is considering for protection.Sign up for the Afternoon Update: Election 2025 email newsletter Continue reading...

Government surveys have found tens of thousands of endangered greater gliders could be living within the proposed area for a great koala national park in New South Wales, prompting new calls for the area to be quickly protected from logging.Data from aerial drone and ground-based surveys at 169 sites within the proposed park were used to model the likely presence of Australia’s largest gliding possum across the entire 176,000 hectares the NSW government is considering for protection.The Minns Labor government promised to create a koala national park before the state election more than two years ago, but has not taken a decision on the boundaries and has allowed logging to continue.A greater glider in flight. Photograph: Sami Raines/WWFBetween April and July 2024, the surveys detected greater gliders at 82 sites. The government’s analysis estimated the planned park has between 29,693 and 44,211 gliders, with a mean estimate of 36,483. Some survey sites in the north-west recorded “extremely high detections” of the species, according to the new report.“This puts paid to any argument that this is not an environmentally significant area and endorses the protection of the complete 176,000 hectares in a national park,” Justin Field, spokesperson for the Forest Alliance NSW and former independent member of the NSW upper house, said.A great koala national park in in the state’s north was NSW Labor’s key environmental commitment at the 2023 election, but two years on, the government has given no indication of when it will announce how much of the 176,000 hectares it plans to protect.“The politically pointed question is: why is Chris Minns allowing the great potential legacy of this park to be undermined by a slow decision?” Field said.A NSW government spokesperson said the creation of the park was “one of our key election commitments, and it will be delivered soon”. “Creating this park will protect koalas, and that protection will extend to other important species including gliders.”Community groups and conservation advocates have grown increasingly frustrated as the government has allowed logging to continue within the proposed park instead of declaring a moratorium until assessment is complete.“These gliders do not tolerate logging and this report should motivate the Minns government to immediately end logging in the proposed great koala national park,” the chief executive of the Nature Conservation Council of NSW, Jacqui Mumford, said.“In fact, logging should cease in all state forest areas identified as containing greater gliders.”skip past newsletter promotionSign up to Afternoon Update: Election 2025Our Australian afternoon update breaks down the key election campaign stories of the day, telling you what’s happening and why it mattersPrivacy Notice: Newsletters may contain info about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. For more information see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.after newsletter promotionEndangered yellow-bellied gliders and the tradie keeping watch over them – videoKita Ashman, a threatened species and climate adaptation ecologist at WWF Australia, said the report highlighted the significance of the proposed park for multiple species.“That’s the crux of the whole story,” she said.“Yes, we’re calling it the great koala national park. But you could easily call it the great greater glider national park – although it doesn’t have the same ring to it.”The forest alliance, made up of community and state environment groups focused on forest conservation, said it was also concerned about the findings of the government surveys for another glider species, the vulnerable yellow-bellied glider.The report found yellow-bellied gliders were less abundant than other species assessed, with the drone and on-ground surveys detecting the animals at only 21% of the sites.Because of the low number of observations, the government was unable to estimate an overall population number for the species within the park area.Field said this highlighted a need for further investigation to understand its conservation status.

UK's rarest wildlife being 'pushed to extinction' by grass fires

Wildfires could spell the end for rare species like water voles and hen harriers, conservationists warn.

UK's rarest wildlife being 'pushed to extinction' by grass firesSteffan MessengerEnvironment correspondent, BBC Wales NewsClare HutchinsonBBC Wales NewsGaran ThomasThis blaze on the Rhigos Mountain in south Wales in June 2023 destroyed an area the size of 140 football pitchesSome of the UK's rarest wildlife is being "torched alive" and pushed closer to extinction after weeks of intense grass fires, conservationists have warned.They include endangered birds like hen harriers and water voles, which are now the UK's fastest declining mammal.The National Trust said it believed ongoing wildfires at Abergwesyn common in Powys had destroyed "the last remaining" local breeding habitat for golden plovers - considered one of the most beautiful birds of the British uplands.So far this year 110 sq miles (284 sq km) of land has been burnt by wildfires around the UK - an area larger than Birmingham.Figures obtained by the BBC show that in Wales, fire crews have battled almost 1,400 wildfires already this year, leading fire services to urge people to "act responsibly" and report any suspicious behaviour to the police.The National Trust said 2025 was "turning out to be the worst year ever for these human-caused fires across the country"."We're extremely worried, this is looking like it's going to be the worst year for seeing our wildlife going up in flames," said Ben MacCarthy, the charity's head of nature conservation.A record dry spell and unusually high temperatures in March are believed to have contributed to the fires. A low number of blazes in 2024 also left more vegetation to fuel them.Getty ImagesWater voles are already on the UK's Red List for endangered animals due to loss of habitatCoed Cadw, the Woodland Trust in Wales, said an "irreplaceable" area of temperate Atlantic rainforest had been affected at Allt Boeth near Aberystwyth, with damage to protected bluebells too.Also known as Celtic rainforest, the habitat harbours scarce plants, lichens and fungi, and is considered more threatened than tropical rainforest.In England, the National Trust said several thousand newly planted trees at Marsden Moor, in West Yorkshire, had gone up in flames.While on the Morne Mountains, in Northern Ireland, invertebrates and ground dwelling animals like reptiles were "simply being torched alive"."That then cascades through the food web because without the invertebrates you don't get the birds who are reliant on them for food," Mr MacCarthy said.He said government funding to help farmers and land managers restore peat bogs in the uplands, to prevent fires while also soaking in planet-warming carbon and providing habitat, was essential.National Trust/PAThe hen harrier nests in upland moorlands and is one of the most endangered breeding birds of prey in the UKConservation charities including The Wildlife Trusts and the Initiative for Nature Conservation Cymru (INCC) also voiced fears for the future of the water vole, which is already under serious threat from habitat loss and predation by American minks.Small animals like water voles and shrews, which live in burrows, can survive fast-moving fires but their habitats and the food they rely on are destroyed.Water voles are "the fastest-declining mammal ever" according to Rob Parry of the INCC."Their last foothold [in Wales] is in the uplands so when those sites are burned it is awful for that particular population, but from a UK point of view we are one step closer to the extinction of an entire species," he said.Rob ParryThe scorched burrow of a water vole, following grass fires in CeredigionThe INCC is also monitoring five breeding pairs of barn owls in the Amman Valley in south Wales, where wildfires have destroyed huge areas of habitat. "A few weeks ago they had all of this area to find food for their chicks and suddenly they don't have that any more," said Mr Parry."I don't know how they are going to cope. A wildfire just makes that habitat disappear overnight."Other rare birds are also affected, including hen harriers, which have been subject to recent conservation efforts to increase their numbers in the Welsh uplands, and skylarks, which have declined in huge numbers since the 1970s."We're worried enough as it is about wildlife," said Mr Parry."We're one of the most nature-depleted countries in the world and wildfires every spring at the worst possible time is a burden that wildlife and the environment just can't cope with."Eddy BlancheFire crews have reported more than 1,100 wildfires in Wales so far this year - including this one near in Merthyr Tydfil in MarchThe INCC has called for closer oversight of controlled burns by farmers and better monitoring of the impact of wildfires on the environment.Natural Resources Wales (NRW) said wildfires were a "massive issue", particularly in south Wales, where Welsh government figures showed more than half of wildfires in Wales took place last year.Becky Davies, a senior officer at NRW, said: "In the last three days we've had over 75 fires in the south Wales valleys alone."We have a lot of hillsides that are linear, the valley side has a lot of bracken, a lot of heathland, grassland and coal spoil and that is the sort of hillside that goes up in flames."The environmental impact of wildfires can also be felt more widely.When it rains after a fire, the newly bare soil and the phosphates that were trapped inside it can wash off into streams and rivers, affecting water quality.'Deliberate fire setting is a crime'Numbers of wildfires vary year-on-year depending on when spells of dry weather happen.But figures obtained by the BBC show that in south Wales, grassfires have increased by 1,200% from the same time period last year.In north Wales, crews have attended 170 fires this year, and Mid Wales Fire and Rescue said it had tackled 772 blazes.Wildfires are also up in England and Northern Ireland compared to last year, while the fire service in Scotland has issued an extreme wildfire alert covering the whole country.Statistics show the majority of wildfires are started by people, including accidental fires from disposable BBQs or controlled burns that get out of hand.Firefighters and police are teaching children in schools about the damage wildfires can cause to wildlifeIn south Wales, firefighters are going to primary schools to teach children from a young age about the devastating impact.At Pontnewydd Primary School in Cwmbran, staff from South Wales Fire and Rescue Service and Gwent Police brought along animals like snakes, hedgehogs and foxes for children to meet.Station manager Mark Bowditch said his crews saw the damage to wildlife from wildfires first-hand."We see the death of local wildlife, we see the destruction of their habitat," he said."We accept that some fires can be accidental, but deliberate fire setting is a crime and that's the message we'd like to get out."Additional reporting by Dylan Greene.

Engineering Marvels of the Silver State

Discover the 19th-century innovations that put Nevada on the map

Imagine stepping onto the scenic Marlette Flume Trail, winding high above the shimmering blue expanse of Lake Tahoe. The crisp mountain air fills your lungs as you take in the panoramic views—but you may not realize you’re also standing on the remnants of a 19th-century engineering marvel. Beneath your feet was once an innovative wooden flume and pipeline system that helped channel water from Tahoe’s forests to Virginia City and the silver mines of the Comstock Lode.  The Marlette Flume was hardly Nevada’s only 19th-century engineering wonder: the Silver State’s rise was built on ambitious projects. To extract the vast wealth beneath the desert, environmental and logistical hurdles had to be solved with similar large-scale innovations.  The Comstock Lode: Supplying America’s First Major Silver Discovery  The 1859 discovery of the Comstock Lode—an immense silver deposit—was a turning point in American mining history. This rich vein of silver and gold, buried beneath the mountains of western Nevada, transformed the region into an economic powerhouse, drawing thousands of prospectors and engineers eager to stake their claim. At its height, the Lode produced hundreds of millions of dollars in silver, fueling the growth of Nevada and even financing the Union during the Civil War.   However, extracting silver from deep underground came with significant challenges. Virginia City—the Comstock Lode’s largest settlement—was built on a remote mountaintop in what was already a remote desert. This made supplying the town (and keeping its miners happy) a logistical nightmare. Critical resources like food, water and building materials were simply not available locally, which meant the city had to import pretty much everything it needed.   Today, visitors can take a 24-mile round-trip tour from Carson City to historic Virginia City aboard the Virginia & Truckee Railroad (V&T). Travel Nevada Most supplies came via an endless stream of wagon and mule teams that navigated the steep mountain passes. This included fresh water. But as Virginia City grew, officials knew they needed a more permanent solution to their water woes. The answer came in the early 1870s, when developers constructed an intricate flume and pipeline system. The Marlette Flume took fresh water on a 50-mile journey from Marlette Lake—located just above Lake Tahoe—down the slope of the Sierra Nevada, and then back uphill into mountains of The Comstock.   Additional supply relief came in 1869 with the completion of the Virginia & Truckee Railroad (V&T). Not only did rail make the Comstock much easier to supply, but its silver mines were finally connected to processing centers and markets across the country. The line ran supplies until 1950 before shuttering. In 1976, the V&T Railroad was revived as a heritage railroad, and today it still offers tourists the chance to ride the historic route from Carson City to Virginia City. Experience It Today: The Marlette Flume Trail (otherwise known as the Lake Tahoe Flume Trail) has been transformed into a world-renowned hiking and mountain biking route that offers breathtaking views of Lake Tahoe. Remnants of the original flume system are still visible along portions of the trail. The Flume Trail: A Water Slide That Fueled the Mines Although Comstock officials were able to solve logistical supply issues to keep the town running, building and maintaining the mines were an entirely different problems that required cutting-edge Wild West technology.  One of the biggest issues miners faced was that the silver was far below the earth—sometimes more than half a mile down. To extend (and support) mine shafts at that depth, new construction methods would need to be developed. One of those pioneering technologies came from German mining engineer Philip Deidesheimer. His system—known as square-set timbering—used interlocking wooden frames to stabilize the soft, collapsing rock, making deep mining not only possible, but far safer. The only problem was that this method required a significant amount of timber.   Timber was not abundant around the Comstock Lode. However, the dense forests surrounding Lake Tahoe were relatively nearby. To bring the lumber to the mines, developers had to build an advanced rail and flume system, today called the Incline Flume. This incredible feat of engineering brought trees harvested from the Tahoe basin to Incline Village. The timber was then winched up 35-percent grade incline railway to the top of the mountain then launched down the Sierra Nevada via a spectacular wooden flume system.  The Incline Flume—essentially a waterslide for logs— carried logs more than 30 miles using only the force of gravity. The wooden scaffolding snaked along cliffsides, through rugged canyons, and across vast expanses of desert terrain, delivering the timber necessary to keep the Comstock mines operational and structurally sound.   While it was an effective innovation, the Incline Flume helped accelerate deforestation in the Tahoe Basin, altering the landscape at the time. However, by the late 19th century, efforts to replant and conserve the region’s forests were already underway, and dedicated conservation initiatives continue to this day.  Experience It Today: Not to be confused with the more-popular Marlette Flume Trail above Lake Tahoe, portions of the Incline Flume are still accessible today via Mt. Rose Highway. Sutro Tunnel: A Game-Changer for Nevada’s Mining Industry  By the 1860s, mining operations in the Comstock Lode had hit a major obstacle: deep tunnels flooded with water, while stagnant air polluted with toxic gases combined to make working conditions treacherous. Miners often found themselves wading through knee-deep water, with ventilation shafts struggling to supply fresh air throughout their shifts. Enter Adolph Sutro, a Prussian-born engineer with a radical idea: an underground tunnel that would drain the mines, improve airflow, and create a safer passage for miners and supplies.  Sutro envisioned a 4-mile drainage tunnel running beneath the Comstock Lode, diverting floodwaters and allowing mining operations to continue at even greater depths. Construction began in 1869, employing thousands of workers who blasted through rock with dynamite—an innovation at the time. Progress was slow, however, and by the time the tunnel was completed in 1878, the silver boom had begun to decline.  Entrance to the Sutro Tunnel site today. Travel Nevada [/] A historic photo of the Sutro Tunnel site circa 1870. Courtesy of Friends of Sutro Tunnel [/] A photograph of an early entrance to the Sutro Tunnel. Courtesy of Friends of Sutro Tunnel [/] Despite this, the Sutro Tunnel proved valuable, remaining in use for decades as a critical drainage system for nearby mines. While debates persist over whether it was worth the effort, its engineering impact was undeniable. The tunnel influenced later mining operations and set a precedent for large-scale infrastructure projects in Nevada and around the world.  Experience It Today: The Sutro Tunnel is currently being restored, and expert-guided tours offer visitors a rare glimpse inside this ambitious engineering project. Today, explorers can walk along the same underground pathways that miners once used to navigate the depths of Nevada’s silver industry. The Lasting Legacy of Nevada’s Silver Boom  Nevada’s history is deeply intertwined with engineering innovation. The breakthroughs of the 19th century shaped the state’s economy and influenced mining technologies in other Western states and beyond. Today, remnants of these once-cutting-edge feats can still be explored—no longer as functioning infrastructure, but as part of Nevada’s rich and proud heritage. Ongoing preservation efforts are helping to restore and protect these historic landmarks, ensuring they remain accessible for future generations. From trail access along the Flume Trail to the restoration of the Sutro Tunnel to guided tours of Virginia City and more, historical tourism plays a vital role in keeping Nevada’s mining legacy alive today. Plan Your Visit  Whether hiking the Flume Trail, touring the Sutro Tunnel, or walking the streets of Virginia City, visitors can experience Nevada’s rich industrial heritage firsthand. These historic sites invite travelers to step into the past, engage with the stories of grit and innovation, and support the ongoing conservation of the state’s most iconic engineering landmarks. Plan your trip to stunning Nevada to experience the nation’s proud history of engineering and innovation. 

Acclaimed Lion Conservationist Paola Bouley on Her Second Chance: ‘It Feels Like a Homecoming’

Bouley’s new project at Macossa-Tambara in Mozambique is part of an effort to double the African lion population by 2050. The post Acclaimed Lion Conservationist Paola Bouley on Her Second Chance: ‘It Feels Like a Homecoming’ appeared first on The Revelator.

Ecologist Paola Bouley recently spent a day with local women in central Mozambique as they whirled around in colorful skirts, dancing near ancient baobab trees as part of a community ritual. The next day she heard zebras, saw evidence that an elephant had passed by, and followed large lion pawprints down a forest path in central Mozambique. Bouley with lion tracks. Photo courtesy Macossa.org The day stirred up echoes of her childhood, when she first felt an innate draw to the natural world. As a 10-year-old in apartheid South Africa, she preferred climbing trees in her backyard, sitting on rock outcrops with her dogs observing the animals. But the neighborhood around her was rapidly suburbanizing. The untouched landscape was soon paved over. “I found refuge in nature,” she says. “So when the development happened, I had this feeling of loss.” Today Bouley finds herself back in nature, helping lead a team of Mozambican and international conservationists and scientists rehabilitating the Macossa-Tambara region, an ecosystem the size of Yellowstone National Park. Centered around a river basin, the area supports lions, leopards, pangolins, a vast forest, and 40,000 people. “When you’re in an area like Macossa-Tambara, you feel very whole,” says Bouley. “It’s the birthplace of humanity. We all have roots in a place like this.” Bouley became the codirector of Macossa-Tambara in 2023. Her goals there include supporting efforts to double African lion populations by 2050. In many ways that’s a return to form. Macossa-Tambara sits to the west of Gorongosa Mountain and Gorongosa Park, where Bouley first earned international recognition for her efforts conserving lions and other endangered species. But the journey between the two sites posed many challenges and nearly pushed her out of conservation altogether. Gorongosa Park Bouley found her way to Mozambique through a series of magnetic pulls. After moving to the United States for college, Bouley studied engineering with a plan to become an astronaut, but she says she left classes feeling that she was being pushed into a soulless military-industrial complex. A chance poetry class returned her to her interest in the natural world, and she switched majors to biology with a focus on marine conservation. In graduate school and afterward, she worked on a program that conserved a nearly extinct salmon population in the San Francisco Bay. But missing her native continent — and grappling with persistent seasickness that made being on boats challenging — Bouley returned to Africa in 2010 to work on a large carnivore project in Zambia. In 2011, when she was waiting to board a flight in a small airport for a holiday in Mozambique, an old park warden asked her if she was going to Gorongosa Park. Bouley had never heard of it. Gorongosa Park in Mozambique had once been seen as a crown jewel of Africa. Then its war of independence from Portugal and subsequent civil war — spanning the 1960s to 1990s — ravaged the ecosystem. Gorongosa was an epicenter of resistance. During the war animals were caught in the crossfire, leaving the park barren. But the worst part for the park came after the war, a period marked by further unrest that enabled a trophy hunting free-for-all as foreign and national wealthy hunters descended on the land to kill what they wanted, whether for ivory or food. During this difficult transition period for the country, rural people in poverty and in desperate need of cash would set snares and steel door traps, mainly to kill animals and sell bushmeat to buyers in the city. The traps were meant for warthogs, waterbuck, and antelope, but lions frequently traversed the same trails. By the time Bouley first heard of Gorongosa, the lion population there had fallen to just 30 big cats, many of whom bore permanent injuries from traps and snares. Common sightings included a lion without a paw or a three-legged lioness hopping around with her cubs because a snare or steel jaw trap had severed her limb. Some lions had gnawed off their own limbs to handle the pain. But in 2007, after three years of negotiation, the Mozambican government inked a deal with an American tech entrepreneur named Greg Carr to fund the rehabilitation of Gorongosa, an effort called the Gorongosa Restoration Project. Gorongosa also received significant investments from other donors, including the governments and taxpayers of the United States, Norway, Ireland, Canada, and Portugal (according to an email from Carr, he and his contacts via outside fundraising fund the majority of the park’s efforts today). At the time many hoped the infusion of money would lead to jobs for the local community and renewed conservation of the wildlife. Rehabilitating the Lions In 2012 Bouley was still traveling back-and-forth between California and Africa. One of her former professors volunteered to connect her with Princeton ecologist Rob Pringle, who was on the board of Gorongosa. Pringle was working closely with Carr who, after pioneering voicemail technology and making many millions in tech, became a powerful name in conservation and human rights spaces (Harvard’s Carr Center for Human Rights is named after him). That year, while still a graduate student, Bouley made her first trip to Gorongosa to meet Carr and the local team and embark on a large carnivore rehabilitation program as part of her doctorate to study the restoration of lions. Bouley remembers landing and being “whisked away” by Carr’s entourage, which included a filmmaking crew and biology and conservation legend E.O. Wilson. By 2014 she’d begun an intended five-year fellowship program at the University of California Santa Cruz, splitting time between California and Gorongosa to focus on the lion population with an academic lens. One day she heard about a mother lioness named Helena and her cub; a couple of months later, Helena was killed by a snare. Bouley realized then that there wasn’t much she could do in California to help, so she decided to forgo her fellowship and embark on lion recovery at Gorongosa full-time. Helena and cub before her death. Photo courtesy Paola Bouley. When it came to the lions, Carr recognized the potential for saving large carnivores. He put his weight behind the project and gave Bouley autonomy to implement her program. Bouley transferred from the science department to the conservation department, which she says had completely collapsed. She found that wildlife rangers had no training and were being paid close to nothing. Bouley took on a highly operational role, and their first conservation plan was to put satellite collars on the lion prides. Lions are surprisingly difficult to locate, especially with so few remaining in the 1,500-square-mile park, and the collars would allow Gorongosa to track where families moved — or if they stopped moving. Snares remained a big threat to the cats at the time. Bushmeat sellers would place traps near watering holes and grazing areas where prey such as waterbucks and warthogs would dwell, but lions also seeking those prey often stumbled into the traps. They even trapped humans; Carr himself got snared one day while he was hiking. The team needed a veterinarian to subdue the lions and put on the collars, so Carr called in a native Mozambican named Rui Branco to partner with Bouley. The lions slept by day, and at night the conservation team would use a dart gun to safely tranquilize the lions and collar them. If a collared lion’s signal went static for more than 24 hours, Bouley’s team would know whether the animal had been ensnared and could send a rescue team. The collars worked: Branco and Bouley found themselves all-too-frequently called out to rescue snared lions and other animals. Bonded by the intimacy of treating and de-snaring maimed animals, they would go on to forge a close friendship that ultimately developed into a romantic partnership. Branco, who saw the need to empower and manage local rangers, soon became the head of law enforcement in the park. He also felt that foreign hunting, conducted legally in certain areas, needed to be controlled to meet conservation goals. Bouley, working alongside a team of Mozambican rangers and in partnership with Indigenous communities, launched a range of initiatives that included addressing elephant-human coexistence, first-response during the unprecedented devastation of historic Cyclone Idai, and providing support for communities during multiple severe drought and famine periods. It paid off. They removed more than 20,000 snares and reduced lion deaths by 95%. Today, as a result of that work, the population in Gorongosa has grown to more than 200 lions. They also eliminated the poaching of elephants over multiple years, established the nation’s first pangolin rescue and rehab center, and laid the foundations for and reintroduced populations of endangered painted wolves, leopards, and hyenas. During that time the number of large mammals in the park surged to more than 100,000 — up from fewer than 71,000 in 2014. The efforts earned Bouley and Gorongosa international acclaim. But behind the scenes, long-brewing concerns had started to boil over. Problems in Paradise “Greg Carr did it,” announced CBS News anchor Scott Pelley. In 2022 Pelley toured Gorongosa Park for 60 Minutes, a follow-up to a 2008 story about Gorongosa. The satellite collar program had been successful for years in monitoring lion families. But in the 13-minute report, Bouley and Branco were nowhere to be seen. Bouley says they’d resigned the previous year after clashing with Carr over what she describes as his increasing centralization of power — and the organization not doing sufficient work to protect women. According to Bouley and people with familiarity of the culture at Gorongosa over the years she was there, this was indicative of another problem: Carr maintained a team of highly paid white male foreigners as senior leaders, including two communications leads, the head of science, and the former head of finance. Locals like the Mozambican rangers were paid far less than expats, a problem that Bouley said she raised frequently with leadership. Sources say some foreign leaders had a long leash. In 2021 an American employee — now no longer at Gorongosa — was found to be having a relationship with someone who reported to him. He was asked to leave the organization. According to an email written to Bouley by a Gorongosa employee, that employee “kept a journal” about his alleged “sex addiction,” divulging that he “has slept with many of his employees.” According to Bouley, multiple Mozambican women in mid-management positions under the supervision of this employee had suddenly resigned before he was let go. Despite the former employee’s transgressions, tax records show that the Carr Foundation paid him a consulting fee of $136,000 in 2023 after his departure. Carr says the man’s knowledge of “carbon credits” was critical to a program that would net the park $30 million, so the payment was part of ensuring that intellectual property wouldn’t be lost. In response to questions about Gorongosa’s sexual harassment policy, Greg Carr wrote over email: “It is a fact that we support women’s rights and we have a strong anti-harassment policy, and people are terminated immediately who violate it. There has been no exception to this.” He cites the fact that this employee is no longer with the organization is a prime example of their anti-harassment policy. In 2021, faced with the options of reporting their concerns to Carr, human resources, or the Mozambican government or silencing themselves, Bouley and Branco decided to resign. In an email to Branco on Sept. 3, 2021, Carr wrote about Bouley’s “anger,” writing “she is not the same person now that I met 10 years ago in Chikalango who was happy and enthusiastic about studying and protecting lions. I want that Paola back again. That Poala [sic] was my friend.” Bouley in an email says, “I have since owned being ‘combative.’ I believe being combative and ‘not a team player’ in an org plagued with racism, abuse of women and Mozambican employees, and bullying is not only a good thing to be, but the right thing to be.” Changes at Gorongosa People familiar with the organization say that Carr formed a new oversight board in late 2023 and early 2024, placing Mozambicans and women prominently in leadership positions. But Bouley remembers one time when Carr told her it was the “Machiavellian in me” that put Bouley at the top of an organizational chart to show a face of women in leadership. Bouley left the meeting disturbed by this tokenization of women. Over email, Carr shared that “99% of our employees are Mozambican.” The current president of Gorongosa, Aurora Malene, who joined in 2021, and director of human resources Elisa Langa, who joined in 2020, are both Mozambican women. The current head of conservation and program director are Mozambican men. In Carr’s words, he spends most of his time on the “outside” fundraising, and that his giving is “unrestricted” — meaning that the money is in the hands of the leaders who are accountable to the board and the Mozambican government. Carr shares that Malene is one of the most talented leaders he knows, and that the “Machiavellian” comment was meant ironically. “She’s the boss, and she’s amazing.” He admits that pay equity has been at the forefront of his mind after Bouley left, citing several examples of Mozambican women whose salaries have doubled or tripled since becoming employed with Gorongosa. We spoke with several current Gorongosa employees. But almost a decade ago, during Bouley’s time there, getting people to go on the record about work at Gorongosa without explicit approval was more difficult. When journalist Stephanie Hanes embarked on a book called White Man’s Game, which showed the darker underbelly of conservation efforts at Gorongosa, several staff at Gorongosa signed ghostwritten letters to the publishers that Bouley now describes as “smearing” Hanes and her work. Bouley sent Hanes two letters at the time that painted Gorongosa in a positive light. She tells me she “felt pressured” to sign the letters at the time to continue with her work, adding      “those who refused to sign were quietly dismissed from his project.” Bouley has since apologized to Hanes for signing those letters. Carr says in an email that Hanes last traveled to Gorongosa 18 years ago and that her reporting is not connected to practices today. Under the new leadership, Carr and the female Mozambican leadership team say that the organization is building a hospital in Gorongosa with a hospital and women’s health center, as well as scaling an after-school program to steer at-risk girls away from child marriage. He says the organization is fully run by Mozambicans to whom he has deferred power, and that six out of seven of the people on the board are Mozambicans. Bouley, remembering her own “Machiavellian” placement on the organizational chart, wonders if this is good marketing and a “facade,” and questions whether the changes have genuinely taken place for the purpose of prioritizing Mozambicans or women as leaders in the organization. In a Zoom conversation, Gorongosa president Malene reiterated that “our policy is zero tolerance for women abuse but also for any kind of disrespect.” Supporting girls’ education and protecting girls is their north star, and they also reference their community ranger work to distribute food to people currently experiencing hunger. A New Beginning: Macossa-Tambara After leaving Gorongosa Bouley had what she calls “limiting beliefs” about what she could achieve next. She was unsure that she could build anything of value again in conservation, worried that her passion could be weaponized against her — and that there would never be anything like Gorongosa. She began working with the Malamba Coastal Collaborative, helping communities to strengthen governance of coastal and marine areas. One area of focus is the Inhambane Seascape, which according to Bouley is under severe threat from oil and gas prospecting and heavy sand mining extraction. Then, in 2023, the Mozambique government identified a territory double the size of Gorongosa Park in need of restoration, in a region called Macossa-Tambara. There was a high level of poaching in Macossa, especially among the elephant communities and in communal grazing areas. But Macossa remained a critical habitat for pangolins, lions, elephants, and endemic species of zebra and buffalo. Bouley and Branco, along with a coalition of local Mozambican and international conservationists and scientists, applied to manage the land. In 2024 they won a 15-year extendable agreement with the government to restore and protect a block of land called C13, an area of 1,900 square miles. They then forged an agreement with neighboring block C9, based on their belief that the environment needs to be collectively managed rather than in blocks (or coutadas), which were imposed on the people by colonial, imperial Portugal in the 1920s. Since then the Macossa-Tambara project has received hundreds of thousands of dollars in grants, allowing the team to hire local staff on the ground and create a fully functional camp with tents, Wi-Fi, energy, and bathrooms. Their partners include the Lion Recovery Fund, the Wildlife Conservation Network, Women Together, and the Mozambique Wildlife Alliance. Today an estimated 30-50 lions call the greater Macossa-Tambara landscape home. The team believes that with its vast and intact Miombo woodlands, riverine and savanna habitats, and a shared boundary with corridors connecting to national parks, the landscape has enormous potential to support a robust population of lion, prey, and other wildlife. Despite the poaching pressure, Bouley says it’s not uncommon in Macossa-Tambara to bump into a lion on foot. “You have to turn on all of your senses, walking through lions, elephants, snakes, and warthogs,” she says “We recently walked into a lioness with cubs, with zero room to run. She roared at us — it was overwhelming and goes right through your bones and into your blood, you think this might be the last moment of life.” Bouley says lions can be very forgiving, contrary to what mainstream media has us believe. “We usually get many signs before we are ourselves in danger. But we have to tread carefully in some of these places.” Two greater kudu at Macossa. Photo: Paola Bouley   Associação NATURA, the nonprofit receiving the grants for Macossa, is the only Mozambican-led NGO in Mozambique to ever win a tender for such a project. Bouley, Branco, and their team work directly with local communities on youth well-being and health services, fully supporting a vision where Mozambicans lead. “There is a high-level of eco-literacy among Indigenous people,” says Bouley. “They know the land more than any of us.” Malene of Gorongosa says in an email that local people in Macossa are starving, and that “it is no longer considered morally correct to focus only on wildlife.” Bouley shares that one of their most critical projects now is helping communities manage elephants who move through agricultural fields that are also elephant corridors. Because endangered species can move in and out of areas where communities eat crops, the animals can fall quickly out of favor with people whose entire year of food is in those fields. The team is working on a proactive approach here rather than “old defensive modes,” says Bouley, so conflicts between people and elephants can be prevented before they arise. This includes landscape planning and zonation, to avoid development in the middle of elephant corridors, and deterrents like beehive and chili fences — tactics that Malene and Langa at Gorongosa share. The Macossa team’s vision is to create a living space where native Mozambicans can authentically lead as environmental leaders, health experts, and peace-building educators. Bouley says that stands in stark contrast to some other conservation efforts. “Even if you’re trained and have degrees, you’re always under an expat or foreign organization that earns 4-10 times the amount that you earn,” she says. “You never have the space to be leading.” There are moments where Bouley feels blown away by the beauty and immensity, but she also describes a fast-paced and demanding environment where they’re responding to needs of the team and engaging in community development with the approximately 40,000 Indigenous people in the region. Bouley says Macossa has also provided a comforting space for her and helped to fill the void of what she’d lost. “We had been so rooted in Gorongosa, I felt like I left part of myself there,” she says. “To be back in a landscape that felt so familiar, it felt like a homecoming.” Previously in The Revelator: Giraffes for Peace The post Acclaimed Lion Conservationist Paola Bouley on Her Second Chance: ‘It Feels Like a Homecoming’ appeared first on The Revelator.

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