The Revelator

Why don’t more people talk about chameleons?

These amazing reptiles come in all sorts of shapes, sizes, and colors, and are known for their color-shifting abilities and unique eyes, which can look in two different directions at once.

But not enough human eyes are paying attention to chameleons, and they now represent one of the world’s most at-risk species groups. According to experts as many as 50% of the 200-plus recognized chameleon species are endangered, critically endangered, or vulnerable to extinction.

On the eve of the third annual International Chameleon Day on May 9 — an occasion to call attention to these animals’ amazing abilities and underrecognized plight — I sat down with Dr. Christopher Anderson, chair of the IUCN/SSC Chameleon Specialist Group, to talk about what’s threatening these diverse reptiles, what we need to do to help them, and why they’ve eluded media and scientific attention over the past few years.

Let’s start with an observation: The word “chameleon” is part of our culture — I mean, everyone understands the word, everyone thinks they know what it means — but I have found almost zero news coverage about chameleons over the past two years. There’s been a little bit of coverage of research about their eyes or their tongues, but almost nothing about their conservation.

That is exactly true. And I think it’s one of the biggest shortcomings that we have as far as awareness about chameleons.

Like you mentioned, chameleons have fascinated naturalists, the public, and researchers for centuries. Aristotle wrote about chameleons and a lot of their unique behaviors. If you ask somebody on the street about a chameleon, they have a picture of what a chameleon is in their head because of a lot of those unique features.

Oftentimes people are a little bit squeamish or have some concerns or fear of reptiles — snakes in particular. But generally, when people hear about chameleons, they’re like, “Oh yeah, chameleons are great.”

The question there is, why have chameleons not fostered some of that attention that we see with turtles and tortoises, various snakes, and other groups? If you look at zoological institutions, most zoos will have a chameleon or a couple of chameleons on display, because they are fascinating and they really are important to most collections to be able to display. But most zoological institutions have not really focused on any type of major or large-scale projects with chameleons, in large part because they are difficult to capture, and delicate and difficult to display.

 

View this post on Instagram

 

A post shared by IUCN SSC Chameleon Specialist Group (@iucnchameleons)

So while a lot of zoos have many different turtle and tortoise species, or boas, or iguanas, or crocodilians, and so forth, and are very engaged with conservation efforts in those groups, chameleons have never really benefited from a lot of that attention. If you look at species survival plans or programs that zoological institutions have within reptiles, you see a number of iguana species, numerous turtle and tortoise species, crocodilian species, and so forth. There’s not a single chameleon species that has gotten that focus or attention.

The other thing is, if you look at the number of researchers that are working with crocodilians or turtles and tortoises, and iguanas — not to keep pointing the finger at a few different groups — there are lots of people that study those, even though there’s a lot fewer crocodilians or iguanas than there are chameleons.

But there are actually very few people that specialize in chameleons. I think that that has really been a disservice to even our understanding of where chameleons are as far as their conservation is concerned.

It’s not that they’re not threatened, or that there aren’t numerous species that should be covered, or even that there’s no interest. It’s just that there’s just not enough work that’s being done to really highlight it.

Right. So is that the goal of International Chameleon Day? What do you hope this species awareness day will accomplish?

Yeah, that’s a huge part of one of the goals that we’re hoping to get across with International Chameleon Day. There’s a huge potential, I think, to engage the public, educate them about the conservation status of chameleons, encourage awareness, as well as broader benefits that that could have for different animal groups that live in similar types of environments.

And who knows, maybe in the long run we can actually encourage other people to start focusing on chameleon conservation and increase the number of people that are working with them.

So what’s threatening them? You mentioned that they’re very sensitive animals, and it seems that a lot of them have evolved in particular microclimates or microhabitats. Can you tell us how they’re threatened by climate change or other factors?

We all kind of have an inherent image in our mind of what a chameleon is. But one of the things that fascinates me about chameleons is how diverse they are. There are 236 species that are described in science. And those 236 species are extremely diverse in their biology, ecology, natural history, anatomy, and so forth. They range in size from very small animals that are less than an inch in total length to species that, in total length, are well over two feet. We have species that give live birth, species that lay eggs. We have species that live upwards of 20 years and species that live outside of the eggs for a matter of three or four months.

 

View this post on Instagram

 

A post shared by IUCN SSC Chameleon Specialist Group (@iucnchameleons)

They’re hugely variable, and a lot of that variation and that species diversity is highly specialized to local microhabitats and very small areas. We have a lot of local endemism with chameleons where there’s a species that lives in a certain elevational band on a single mountain, or a single type of vegetation, or habitat in a very small area. That’s where lot of that diversity occurs, in very small, limited-range habitats.

When you have species that have that limited range, they can be very prone to local disturbances potentially wiping out a population or a significant portion of their distribution.

Most of the major threats that we have for chameleons relate to habitat alteration. That can be from clearing of the habitat for subsistence farming, timber harvesting, charcoal production — particularly in Madagascar, that’s a major issue. We see a lot of local effects from surrounding communities altering the habitat that these species live in.

But there’s other threats that we see with chameleons as well. One of those is harvesting for the pet trade, both illegal and legal. Chameleons for the last 30-40 years have been heavily traded in the international exotic pet trade. Some of that is legal and some of that is sustainable, but much of it is not sustainable or even illegal for some species and some regions.

We also see there’s some looming effects of climate change that are impacting chameleons, making the conditions at local habitats potentially unsuitable. Climate change is also doing things like accelerating dangers from fire and increasing the duration of the dry season, which increases the amount of vegetation that fires can consume if they get started.

And similarly, as habitats become smaller and smaller, you have these boundary effects around the edge of habitats where those boundary areas can be more prone to fire and so on.

Changing of a lot of the durations of the wet seasons and dry seasons, increases in temperature and aridity — all of that is going to play into some of these fire issues and so forth. That could affect a lot of these populations, even in protected areas.

Have you seen some of this in the wild? I found a paper you wrote about the Chapman’s pygmy chameleon in Malawi that seems to be suffering specifically from some of these problems.

Exactly. So, you know, I first traveled to Madagascar many years ago. I have not been back professionally recently, but I traveled there for ecotourism. And one of the things that I was shocked with was the amount of erosion and clear-cut forests and habitat alteration that I was seeing. And that’s not slowed down. If anything that’s accelerated in recent years.

That’s a huge issue. I’ve seen it in Cameroon. I’ve seen it in Kenya. I’ve seen it in Tanzania. I’ve seen it in South Africa. Anywhere you go where there are chameleons, we see a lot of those types of issues.

 

View this post on Instagram

 

A post shared by IUCN SSC Chameleon Specialist Group (@iucnchameleons)

I also have noticed over the years that there seem to be shifts in the wet season. When I was in Madagascar almost 25 years ago now, the beginning of the wet season was starting at the end of December, beginning of January. Now that period has shifted. People are now going in February or March to be there when the rain has started and when you can see a lot of that biodiversity.

We’re seeing a lot of shifts. Madagascar over the last few years in particular has gotten a lot of attention for some of the massive fires that they’ve had, particularly in the southern portion of the country, in the central highlands, and the southwestern regions. And those are going to have massive effects on local populations.

There’s a lot of concern that as these fires extend into protected areas, areas that we thought were safeguarding these animals may not actually be safe havens for them.

I don’t want to generalize with a couple hundred species, but what do chameleons need to ensure their continued survival? What can people in the conservation community do to help?

Yeah, like you said, there’s a lot of diversity within chameleons. And some chameleons are doing quite well. They’re habitat generalists, they’re widespread. And those species aren’t really ones that are under a high probability of extinction.

But of chameleon species that we know of, a large proportion are threatened — about 78 species based on our IUCN Red List assessments are considered either critically endangered, endangered, or vulnerable. That’s about a third of the species that we have described.

But we also have a lot of species that are not evaluated yet. They’re relatively newly described species or we don’t have enough data yet. If we figure in these species that are not evaluated, or that we haven’t actually got enough information to evaluate them, we could actually have as much as 50% of the diversity of chameleons threatened with extinction. That’s huge. We’re talking about 120 species that just from what we know right now may be threatened.

Education, I think, is one of the huge things as far as what we can do right now to advance the awareness of the conservation status with chameleons. We need people to be aware of the threat status of these species. If they’re engaged with the pet trade, [we need to teach them] to make educated and sound conservation decisions and make sure that if they’re involved with keeping chameleons as pets or anything, they’re doing so sustainably and ethically and legally.

 

View this post on Instagram

 

A post shared by IUCN SSC Chameleon Specialist Group (@iucnchameleons)

But in addition to that, we really need to reach out to local communities about the status of the environment around them, the species that live there, the importance of those species, and try and encourage sustainable practices in safeguarding of those animals.

That’s super challenging because a lot of the areas where these animals live are surrounded by communities that are struggling. Life in Madagascar and life in a lot of these places is not easy. They’re not generally doing mass agriculture that’s wiping out huge tracts of land. Most of it is subsistence agriculture that they depend on for their day-to-day survival.

So helping to provide resources and development that’s sustainable and helps these populations in a lot of these areas is potentially hugely beneficial to the conservation of lot of these animals as well.

This is kind of related to that, but do chameleons have any cultural value to the people who live near them?

This is actually an additional challenge that we face with chameleons and their conservation. What I mean by that is across most of the range of chameleons, there are a lot of local superstitions or taboos or what they call fady in Madagascar about chameleons. They have a longstanding, oftentimes negative connotation to local communities.

Across their range, people tend to think that they’re venomous, that if you touch them, you’ll die. They tend to think things like, if you have a chameleon in a tree in your village, it’s a bad omen. There are stories in northeast Africa saying if a camel steps on a chameleon, the vibrations will kill the camel. There are all kinds of variants on this common theme of not trusting chameleons or thinking that they’re dangerous that they’re bringing bad omens or so forth. So a lot of the time, the local communities don’t view chameleons in a particularly positive manner. When we’re talking about engaging these communities, just convincing them that they need to protect the chameleons is sometimes a little bit of a hard sell.

What we really also need to communicate to them is that they’re not dangerous, that they are harmless animals, that they’re interesting, and that they have value in their local community and in the environment around them. And that can be challenging because we’re trying to challenge and change generations of stories and stuff that have been passed on.

Wow. Are there any memorable encounters you’ve had in the wild with these animals, and can conveying those stories help influence other people?

You know, any time I’m in the field working with chameleons, it’s memorable for me. I am absolutely fascinated with them.

There’s a lot of different species that are very pretty, a lot of beautiful colors that they will express, and there’s some morphologies that are just incredibly intricate and impressive. Finding those species for the first time is always fascinating for me. There are so many species. I’ve never seen all of them in the wild, of course. Every time that I get out into the field and I can find a new species, it’s really exciting. Learning about the environment that each of those species lives in and seeing them in the field and kind of getting a little bit of a better understanding of them is always incredibly rewarding.

My wife and I teach a field course every other year. We bring students from South Dakota, where we’re based, to Kenya. We take them around to different habitats and we teach them about the local environments and so on. One of the things that we do is teach them how to find chameleons, and I teach them about the different species.

The students absolutely love this process of going out and looking for the chameleons. We’re in habitats where we’re looking at lions and elephants and rhinos — these megafauna that they’ve grown up idolizing, wanting to see in the wild. But then we go out and look for chameleons and they love it. The number of students that list that as among the most fun things that they did on these trips is really surprising.

That’s one of the things I really love about teaching that course, taking these students out and showing them these animals and giving them a chance to learn about chameleons firsthand — and appreciate that it doesn’t need to be one of these charismatic megafauna for them to get excited.

So what’s your favorite chameleon species — if you can even answer that?

There are so many species that I think are just fascinating, but I could give a couple that I think are just incredible — and I think some of those actually might surprise people, because they’re maybe not the most colorful species, for instance.

One of those species is the armored leaf chameleon. It’s a species from a drier area in Madagascar, the Tsingy de Bemaraha. It’s an endangered species, and it’s the largest species of the genus Brookesia, which are these miniaturized chameleons — you’ll often see pictures of them on a matchstick. But this is a species that has incredible ornamentation. They’re the only chameleon species that’s known to have osteoderms, these bones in the skin. They have these ornate projections off of their vertebral column that project out of their skins to create spines along their back. Overall coloration-wise, they’re just basically brown with a little bit of different hues of these drab colors, but they’re just incredibly intricate and interesting to me.

There’s a species in Tanzania, Trioceros laterispinis — one of its common names is the spiny-flanked chameleon. It looks kind of like those tree lichens that grow on branches. And it’s incredibly cryptic. You can just look at it and you can tell this is living in an environment that has a lot of those lichens and mosses. It’s beautifully evolved to live in that habitat.

Spiny-flanked chameleon. © Otto Bylén Claesson via iNaturalist (CC BY-NC)

In both cases these aren’t species that are exhibiting bright pinks and blues and reds and greens or flashy colors, but there’s just something about them that I just find fascinating, because you could just see the way that they’re trying to conceal themselves and the way that they’re living in this environment and how they’re adapted to that place, that specific location. I just find that fascinating.

So what can we do to maintain the energy and interest of International Chameleon Day throughout the year?

Chameleons are exciting to the public. They’re interesting. People are intrigued by them. And I think that we really should try to harness that. I think, like you said, if we could see an increase in the coverage of chameleons — just generally, not only on International Chameleon Day, but across different times of the year — that that would go a long way to promoting our understanding and encouraging others to work with these animals in the future. Education about these animals and their local habitats doesn’t need to just be isolated to a single day. We can take advantage of opportunities as they come to educate local communities about the wildlife that they have around them and the value of some of these animals. That would be huge.

Trying to break down some of these longstanding prejudices toward these animals — that doesn’t happen overnight. It doesn’t happen if we’re just isolating that to one day a year. I think that International Chameleon Day is a huge benefit for trying to start those conversations and start those education programs and start those efforts.

But we really do need to continue those across the year at different times and try and promote those messages and get that information and that word out there more generally.

Republish this article for free! Read our reprint policy. Previously in The Revelator:

This Month in Conservation Science: Trojan Seahorses and ‘Vampire’ Birds

The post Even Chameleons Can’t Hide From Climate Change appeared first on The Revelator.

Seventy-two-year-old Namgaukum, from India’s northeastern state of Nagaland, cherishes rare childhood memories of riding an Asian giant tortoise (Manouria emys phayrei) through the forests near his Old Jalukie village.

For the then five-year-old, the nearly two-foot-long carapace of the animals — the largest living tortoise in mainland Asia — often resembled a greyish-brown boulder in the forest about a foot above the mushy leaf litter and undergrowth.

“I would sit on it in the jungle, and after some time suddenly sense stirrings below,” he recalls. First a dark-brown head would cautiously pop out of the “boulder,” followed by a thick, muscular neck and sturdy, scaly legs pressing into the forest floor. “Then we would slowly amble forward, its beak nibbling grass and tender shoots,” he laughs, reminiscing his childhood thrill of riding the giant forest reptile.

At the release event of the critically endangered Asian Giant Tortoises in the Old Jalukie Community Reserve last August. Photo: Newme Shamma, used with permission.

The village elder remembers the tortoises were still abundant in the forests those days, and laments that they had almost disappeared by the time he was 13 or 14.

However, six decades later, a younger resident beams at the “homecoming” of this critically endangered species to the same Old Jalukie forests near his village — now a community reserve. “They are like our children now,” says 22-year-old Haileulungbe, proud to be acknowledged as a “Tortoise Guardian.” Other youths and members of the Zeliang tribe are equally overjoyed at the revival of the species in the wild.

This recovery follows a landmark initiative under the India Turtle Conservation Programme. Last August 10 captive-bred juvenile Asian giant tortoises (each 5–6 years old) were reintroduced into a community-owned and managed reserve rather than the usual state-run protected areas.

The program — implemented by the Nagaland Forest Department in collaboration with the Turtle Survival Alliance Foundation India at Old Jalukie Community Reserve in Peren district — aims to “rewild the growing number of captive-bred individuals and save them from extinction through community stewardship,” says its director, Shailendra Singh.

From Pets and Meat to Freedom

The effort began in 2018 with a captive-breeding facility under the ITCP at Nagaland Zoological Park. It was founded with 13 individuals of wild origin — seven females and six males — recovered from Tribal households, where they were kept as pets, and from local markets, sold for meat. Today the facility hosts the world’s largest assurance colony of Asian giant tortoises, with 114 individuals.

“The program reached its turning point when some villagers voluntarily donated tortoises they had kept as pets in their homes for captive breeding, and the community that once exploited them was sensitized to restore and nurture the species back in the wild from the brink,” says Singh.

Seven to eight months post-release, all the radio-tagged tortoises are reported to be healthy and surviving. Initially kept within a 10,000-square-foot bamboo enclosure in the Community Reserve for acclimatization, they were released into the wild on Feb. 20 this year.

Left to right: A female Asian Giant Tortoise guards her nest made of leaf litter and plant material. They are among the few tortoises in the world with the unique habit of building nests above the ground. Photo: Shailendra Singh, used with permission; A sensitization workshop with local communities conducted by program leaders and the heads of the forest department. Photo: Sushmita Kar, used with permission: Ten radio tagged juveniles of Asian Giant Tortoise prior to their release in the Conservation Reserve. Photo: Shailendra Singh, used with permission.

They now roam free in the wilderness of the Old Jalukie Reserve’s 370-hectare stretch of hilly semi-evergreen forests, with dense vegetation comprising native trees such as Indian chestnut, Nepalese alder, Karoi tree, and various oak species. The biodiverse landscape has been owned and managed by local tribes since the 1980s from 15 surrounding villages, with elders at the helm.

Vanishing Giants

The species faced a grim situation even two decades ago. Over the past 135 years, the tortoises have lost nearly 80% of their historic range across South and Southeast Asia due to habitat loss, hunting, and the pet trade.

Only about 250 mature individuals of the Asian giant tortoise may survive in the wild globally, according to Shailendra Singh, director of TSAFI. Of the two recognized subspecies, Manouria emys emys is extant in parts of Malaysia, Sumatra, and Borneo, while the larger, darker M. e. phayrei ranges across parts of Thailand, Myanmar, Bangladesh, and Northeast India.

Singh says that between 2012 and 2026, only 20 adult individuals have been reported from the northeastern states of Nagaland, Manipur, Assam, Meghalaya, and Mizoram, although inaccessible hilly terrains and social conditions may have limited surveys and detectability. He estimates that around 100–150 adults may survive in the region.

Building Support

Villages in the region traditionally hunted the tortoises for generations, so securing the support of local communities was crucial if the reintroduction program was to succeed, points out Sushmita Kar, turtle biologist and Project Coordinator, ITCP for Northeast India.

“The Forest Department helped bring local communities on board, keep them motivated, and take them along on this conservation journey,” says Chisayi, divisional forest officer, Peren (from the Indian Forest Service). He explains that the department works with communities at the grassroots through capacity building and livelihood opportunities, envisioning a future where Old Jalukie can be projected as a “tortoise village” in the state.

“As major stakeholders, local communities become more responsible and accountable for conserving the species and the habitat as a whole,” he adds.

Left to right: Successful artificial incubation of the eggs of the Asian Giant Tortoise at the captive breeding centre in Nagaland Zoological Park. Photo: Lalit Budhani, used with permission. Photo: Lalit Budhani, used with permission; Tiny hatchlings of Asian Giant tortoise emerge after artificial incubation. Photo: Sushmita Kar, used with permission; Asian Giant Tortoises on the damp forest floor after their release at the Old Jalukie Community Reserve. Photo: Shailendra Singh, used with permission.

Releasing the tortoises in a community reserve rather than a conventional protected area was a conscientious decision, admits Kar. The approach also followed lessons learned from the first phase of giant tortoise reintroduction at Intanki National Park in December 2022. Of the 10 captive-bred juveniles released then, only one was later found at the forest periphery; two were trampled by elephants, while the fate of the rest remains unknown.

Unlike national parks, community reserves do not restrict access for local villagers. To help make villages aware of the importance of the species, youths are given hands-on field training for regular monitoring of the tortoises. “For a species where every individual counts, these youths, with their almost ‘one-to-one involvement’ with each, develop familiarity and a sense of belonging, ensuring their long-term survival,” she says.

Besides, during the monsoon, when forests become difficult to access, these grassroots conservationists can still move through the terrain and remain vigilant, guided by their lived experience and traditional knowledge.

Meanwhile, unlike most Indian states where forests are largely under government control, nearly 88% of Nagaland’s forests are governed and managed by local communities, clans, and individuals through village councils and traditional institutions. According to official reports, the state has 407 community-conserved areas  safeguarded by traditional laws, as well as 148 formally notified community reserves — the highest in the country and accounting for more than 50% of all such reserves nationally.

Such programs as the ITCP offer good examples of how community reserves can be effectively used for the revival of such critically endangered species, according to Kenlumtatei, Range Officer, Jalukie Range. “It is also bringing about an attitudinal change among community youths, who are gradually moving away from traditional hunting to protect forests and wildlife,” he adds.

Tortoise Guardians

For youths like Haileulungbe and Iteichube from the Old Jalukie Conservation Reserve, it means their enhanced role and commitment as its custodians.

Donning olive-green T-shirts printed with “Tortoise Guardian,” Haileulungbe sets off for the forest at 8 a.m., when the reptiles are most active. He carries a radio receiver, while the project field researcher Victor carries the antenna connected to it. The duo scans for signals from their radio-tagged “giant children” to pinpoint their locations. “Two of the tortoises have already moved about 300–500 meters from the enclosure site,” he says excitedly as they walk me through the forest.

They have been trained to maintain daily records of each individual tortoise’s GPS location, along with observations of their movements and behavior.

Apart from following signals on the radio receiver, they also look for nibble marks on leaves, their favorite bamboo shoots, or mushrooms on the forest floor, or shallow depressions in wet grasslands and puddles, explains 33-year-old Iteichube, another tortoise guardian. “All such signs enable us to identify their basking, foraging, and resting sites,” he adds.

A community awareness event with local villagers, forest department officials and scientists. Photo: Haileulungbe, used with permission.

With adults weighing about 36–37 kilograms (79–82 pounds), they are often described as the “small elephants of the forest” because of their thick, scaly legs that push through dense vegetation, a process that also aids seed dispersal and forest regeneration.

They are among the few tortoises in the world with a unique nesting habit: building nests 2-3 feet above the ground with leaf litter and plant material to lay about 25–70 eggs per clutch. Most tortoises, by contrast, nest by digging holes in the ground.

Seeing their behavior further inspires the guardians. “We started by simply tracking them, but today we realize how important they are in keeping our forest vibrant and alive with their unique ways,” says Iteichube.

The Next Generation

Inspired by the rewilding success of Asian giant tortoises in Nagaland, similar efforts are now underway in neighboring Manipur. Early results are already emerging: A captive-breeding facility set up at the Manipur Zoological Garden successfully produced 28 hatchlings through artificial incubation in August 2025.

As the hatchlings grow, scientists are also carrying out site assessments and searching for Asian giant tortoises in the wild to identify potential release sites of captive-bred individuals. “We aim to repopulate Manipur’s forests with giant tortoises, as in Nagaland, and eventually across its historic range in the Northeast India, through community participatory approach,” says Kar.

An adult male Asian Giant Tortoise pops its greyish-brown head and forelimbs out of its carapace. Photo: Shailendra Singh, used with permission.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The village elder Namgaukum could not be happier with the return of the tortoises to their native forests.

“Earlier we would hang its large, beautiful shells outside our homes to ward off evil and as a symbol of pride, but today we consider it a good omen and blessing for our community to see it flourish in the wild,” he says.

Republish this article for free! Read our reprint policy. Previously in The Revelator:

 

Strategic ‘Matchmaking’ Protects the World’s Smallest and Rarest Wild Pig

The post ‘Tortoise Guardians’ Protect Rare Giants appeared first on The Revelator.

A few weeks ago I replied to a reader who wanted to stay active in environmentalism despite growing older and feeling put out by “ageism.” After the column came out, I received several delightful responses, one from a trio of environmentalist compadres defying the age gap and another from a Brit who wants some advice on enticing a younger generation to engage in environmentalism. Let’s explore these topics.

Hi Dr. Green!

Thank you for your answer on aging. I’m one of a trio of “old fogeys” who have had to cut back our conservation work due to various and sundry health issues, but we lift each other up and keep finding new avenues to work within our limitations. Having this group is essential! We’ve found opportunities for each other, teamed up for lectures, done some writing, pursued new observations, and are digitizing decades of our data, which is helping new research today. We haven’t formally mentored yet, though, so thanks for that advice.

Hello my friends!

Well, this is a fresh and much-needed perspective for environmentalists who have been around awhile and are opening the vaults of their considerable experience and wisdom to others — especially the next generations.

There’s power in a group, and it sounds like you’ve collectively found a solution that solves issues on several fronts: Ageism, reinventing yourselves at this time in your lives, and sharing your knowledge, hard-earned through years of experience and active commitment.

As Kate Ireland, director of youth engagement at The Nature Conservancy, has written:

“Any conservation action, any policy measure, any partnership built today must be stewarded tomorrow. The transfer of care is a continuous cycle.”

“Formal” mentoring is not always necessary, but there are programs organized by The Nature Conservancy Youth Engagement Program and the National Geographic Society Externship Program, among others, specifically for mentoring — and a lot of this can be done virtually through Zoom and other technology platforms to reach an international audience of young people eager to learn from you. If you three want to start a mentoring program of your own, you might study how these environmental giants do it, then do something modelled like that in your field, town, or city.

“To solve our biggest environmental challenges, we need leaders who are prepared to use their talents for nature,” Ireland wrote. With online mentoring and training, “each participant determines their own schedules, research topics and action steps.”

When you guys are at an event, presentation, or lecture, spend some time during breaks or meet-and-greets to scan the room for younger folks. Introduce yourselves and ask what brought them to this event. Once they’ve gone to the trouble of attending, it’s likely they’re open to making new contacts and willing to ask questions, learn, and get tips on how and where to spend their energy. You’ll make an impression.

Here’s the thing: Many of the young feel lost, lonely, and rudderless. They tell me they’re angry with older people for leaving them with a big mess to clean up, but older people don’t always let them in to step up and be heard. We older folks still have time to right that wrong. And really, it’s our obligation.

Your experience may help them to have hope, ignite their passion, or guide the way toward real solutions.

Bravo and applause for these amazing Green Amigos! Exciting work from seasoned environmentalists. Keep taking names and kicking ass!

Cheering you on,

Dr. Green

Dr. Green,

Thank you for this! I’ve already learned a lot. My story: After decades of (toots own horn: successful) activism here in the UK, I feel a disconnect with my sons’ friends. They seem to have given up on trying to make a difference. I try to engage them with stories of our wins, but I can’t seem to break through.

 They act like they have lost the battle. Any advice?

 Incidentally, we call these advice columns “agony aunties” in the UK. Not sure if that carries over in the States!

Signed, Agonized in Bath

Hello, Agonized in Bath,

Please say hello to Bath for me. It’s a beautiful town. I’ve lived in England and was actually inspired by the British “agony aunties” to create this column for environmentalists. (Tips her hat and bows to the UK agony aunties).

I understand your feelings of disconnection to your son’s friends — as I explained to the Three Green Amigos, younger generations are quite disgruntled with us older folks for leaving the planet in its current state. As much as we tried our best for the environment, we weren’t entirely successful. Young peoples’ minds have also been annexed by “social” technology that overwhelms their minds (which are still developing) with addictive tech-use habits, misinformation and often nonsensical and nihilistic content (Kops, Schittenhelm, and Wachs, 2025; Anvarovna, 2025).

Let’s take a look at some ways we can communicate with the young and meet them where they live in their hearts and minds:

My colleagues who specialize in youth psychology find that creating and facilitating intergenerational conversation should be based on mutual learning, shared values, and focusing on hope rather than anxiety or fear. Be an active and present listener, without interrupting or correcting young people (see resources below).

Pay attention to their concerns, mutually share feelings about environmental change, and plan local, practical projects to collaborate on.

Intergenerational Conversations on Climate and the Extinction Crisis Are Effective When Older People:

• • • Listen and validate their rightful concern about the future and their fears.
    • Share personal stories (after they have shared their concerns — don’t act like the expert just because you’re older). For example, talk about how much local seasons or rivers have changed over the decades.
    • Focus on action and solutions, avoiding doom-and-gloom wallowing to actionable, positive steps. Are there local green efforts you can do with them to make feel empowered? If they can make even one small, visible, local change in their community, they can brag to all their friends and get them involved. For example, creating a planting of some sort in a park, cleaning an empty lot, or arranging an information booth at local events.
    • Pinpoint shared values in protecting family, community, health, and nature.
    • Avoid intergenerational blame and steer the focus on working together to tackle climate change and the destruction of the wild.
    • Acknowledge young people’s existing knowledge and motivation to make a change in the status quo.
    • Use creative, fun and active engagement like community gardening, cleanups or other local events that bring folks together.

Never give up on the young; we owe it to them to meet them halfway.

I hope these suggestions help — and let me know how it’s going.

Cheers!

Dr. Green (who secretly hopes she’s your new favorite “agony auntie”)

Are you having trouble communicating the importance of environmental issues with younger people? What are your challenges and concerns? Do you have some success stories to share with our readers?  We want to know! Maybe together we can come up with solutions for bridging the age gap.

See you next time!

Share your challenges and success stories by sending Dr. Green your questions using the form below:

Resources:

Dr. Green: How to Stay Environmentally Active at Any Age

The National Geographic Society Externship Program

The Nature Conservancy Youth Engagement Program

Kara Swisher Wants to Live Forever (CNN series, April 2026): Inspired by her own experiences with mortality, award-winning journalist Kara Swisher embarks on a deeply personal and sharp-witted journey into the science, culture, and business of longevity.

Young people and false information: A scoping review of responses, influential factors, consequences, and prevention programs. Kops, M., Schittenhelm, C., & Wachs, S. (2025). Computers in Human Behavior, 169, 108650.

Psychological characteristics of difficulties in communication in adolescence. SHOKH LIBRARY, 1(11). Anvarovna, A. S. (2025).

Engaging Teens with Story : How to Inspire and Educate Youth with Storytelling by Janice M. Del Negro and Melanie A. Kimball

7 Active Listening Techniques for Better Communication by Arlin Cuncic, MA (2026)

Republish this article for free! Read our reprint policy. Previously in The Revelator:

Dr. Green: Can Wildlife Get PTSD?

The post Dr. Green: The 3 Green Amigos and Agony in Bath! appeared first on The Revelator.

Editor’s note: This article is a joint publication of SEJournal and The Revelator.

Like a lot of journalists, I love writing underdog stories.

For me, though, covering an underdog story might mean reporting about red wolves — or wolf spiders or wolfsnails.

For more than 20 years, I’ve been on the extinction beat, writing stories about rare or endangered species, the people trying to understand what’s threatening them or how to save them, and the plants and animals it’s now too late to save.

Along the way I’ve written more species “obituaries” than I ever imagined I might.

Most recently I collected the stories of more than 30 species declared extinct in 2025. Many of these disappearances were caused by the same factors that threaten people around the world: climate change, pollution, development, income inequality, and introduced diseases.

But at the same time, I’ve written about species recoveries, rediscoveries, conservation victories (big and small), scientific breakthroughs, and the very human efforts behind them all.

That’s one of the secrets of the extinction beat: You’re writing about animals and plants, but at the same time you’re really writing about people — at their worst and at their best.

Yes, it’s a difficult beat, one with more bad news than good. But looking back at the past couple of decades, I can see several reasons why I’ve stuck with it.

Writing About Extinction Is (Believe It or Not) Hopeful

I’ve said this several times over the past few years: Writing about extinction is an inherently hopeful act.

That might seem like a disconnect, but here’s the truth: Although I’ve covered hundreds of extinctions, I’ve written or edited thousands of articles about species surviving, often with the help of scientists and conservationists, sometimes through their own tenacity.

Even the negative stories — the tales of population declines or disappearances, the new threats that emerge, the projections of climate change — only happen because people are looking into those problems. And the discovery of a problem is the first step toward a solution.

That’s another secret of the extinction beat: While the word “extinction” implies a finality, the journalism surrounding it is rarely about “the end.” Instead, it’s often about preventing that end.

We write about what has been lost, what’s being lost, to ensure we have the knowledge and the collective will to prevent further declines or the next extinction.

Every story is potentially a lesson in what to protect and a road map for how to do it better.

Extinction Is About People

Behind every endangered species is a spider’s web of scientists, activists, and local communities whose lives are intertwined with that animal or plant.

Telling their stories and describing their passions or dramas brings a relatability to stories about species who can’t speak on their own — which might otherwise be more challenging when writing about unfairly maligned creatures like snakes, insects or parasites.

When we write about a species on the brink, we’re often also writing about the people who refuse to let it go — the ones who spend their lives in remote habitats, in labs or in the halls of government, fighting for creatures who will never know their names or who few people will ever see.

And that’s another secret about the extinction beat: These people can also be the underdogs of your story. They’re the ones fighting the system, often against seemingly impossible odds.

Extinction Is About Culture

Our societies are built upon observations of the natural world. When that world unravels, so does human culture.

Take sports, for example. How many teams are named after rapidly disappearing species? Or employ animals as their anthropomorphic mascots? What would the Detroit Tigers be without actual tigers?

Or go deeper, into our religions, fables, creation stories, idioms, slang, pop culture. They’re all deeply rooted in the natural world and in the ecosystems that we inhabit.

When a species goes extinct, it isn’t just a biological loss; it’s a cultural one. We lose a piece of the world that informed our ancestors’ stories and our children’s imaginations.

Writing about extinction is, in many ways, an act of cultural preservation. We’re helping to prevent the “extinction of experience” — where we even forget the way things once were.

Plants and Animals Can’t Tell Their Own Stories

One major reason why endangered species are underdogs is that they can’t tell their own stories — at least, not directly. They can’t explain to indifferent humans how their habitats are changing or advocate for their right to exist.

As journalists we act as their translators, bringing the dangers they face into the light for a world that might otherwise overlook them — and in the process, perhaps, we provide a new lens to help our readers understand the threats we all face.

Plastic pollution is an obvious example. The photos of sea turtles with plastic straws up their noses helped change behavior for many people.

More broadly, can describing the threats a species faces from climate change, PFAS pollution, or wildfires help readers understand that those threats are coming for them, too?

Every Species Is Amazing

Let’s step back from the doom and gloom and remember that just about every species has something amazing about it. A certain biological function, unique vocalizations, mating habits, feeding behaviors, migratory feats …

A recent paper found that conveying the awe about nature can inspire pro-environmental behaviors, such as helping and supporting conservation efforts. Even extinct species had unique qualities that we can recognize and mourn.

Think of chimpanzees. How much more endangered would they be today if Jane Goodall hadn’t spent years studying their behavior and bringing that story to the world (with the help of many journalists)?

As an aside, one of the most frustrating things about covering extinct and endangered species is the dearth of good photos for many of them. But when you finally find the right image? That can often sell your story as well as your words.

If Not Me, Who Else?

I often ask myself: If I don’t cover these stories, who else will?

Despite the stakes, extinction stories remain chronically underrepresented in environmental journalism and in the broader media landscape. We’re saturated with political commentary, influencer videos and sports analysis, but the literal disappearance of life on Earth often struggles to find space on the front page — let alone manage to reach eyeballs through social media algorithms.

But I’m always surprised. My stories do find readers, and they make a difference. They’ve inspired fundraisers, petitions, podcasts, and even a death-metal album. They’ve been cited in lawsuits and the Federal Register. They’ve brought “thank you” emails from readers around the world, many of whom have found ways to explore their grief for a disappearing world, or who have found their own ways to participate in conservation.

And so, as I do whenever I talk about this subject, I’ll now turn my question around: Why not you?

Joining the extinction beat is not just a professional choice. It can be a deeply rewarding and emotional journey, a chance to stand out from the pack, an opportunity to tell unique stories and a way to make a difference.

Reporting stories about species teetering on the brink of extinction allows you to tap into local expertise, explore your own regional culture and highlight species who exist in your own backyard. Or you can focus on faraway animals who rank high in our popular culture, or even species who few people realize even exist.

From a practical standpoint, you won’t be competing with 1,000 other climate journalists for the same headline. Instead, you may find new, vital angles that resonate with readers on their own emotional levels — and keep them coming back for more.

And in a world where journalism itself is an endangered species, that may be one of the best reasons of all.

Republish this article for free! Read our reprint policy. Previously in The Revelator

Why Don’t We Hear About More Species Going Extinct?

The post Why I Write About Extinction appeared first on The Revelator.

Editor’s note: This edition of our “Protect This Place” column is produced in collaboration with the Climate Listening Project, whose short film about this place appears below.

The Place:

We’re traveling the waters of the world, where communities are coming together as gas export development threatens places along the U.S. Gulf Coast — like Lake Charles, Louisiana — and gas import development threatens places in Asia like small islands along the Verde Island Passage in the Philippines.

Why it matters:

The Verde Island Passage is known as the Center of the Center of Marine Shore Fish Biodiversity in the world. It’s the heart of the Coral Triangle and home to a unique concentration of more than 1,700 shore fish species, more than anywhere else on Earth.

Photo by Zachary Kanzler

In Louisiana each year, Mardi Gras brings people together throughout the state for community celebrations unlike any others in the United States. The seafood from Gulf waters is a big part of the culture — from crabs to shrimp and dishes like gumbo — and many of the people along the Gulf Coast of Louisiana are fisherfolk, just like those along the coast of Philippines.

I have been invited to both places, to listen to and film the stories of fisherfolk who are affected by pollution. A recent oil spill in the Verde Island Passage had ripples of impacts on water, wildlife, and communities in this beautiful place, and I touched the oily residue left behind.

When I was last in Lake Charles, Louisiana, I could see and smell the smoke from the fossil fuel refineries and read signs warning that pollution was inside the crabs.

The threat:

Gas from Lake Charles travels by ship, sometimes from the Gulf into the Caribbean Sea through the Panama Canal from the Atlantic Ocean into the Pacific Ocean, then on to the Coral Triangle, where the Verde Island Passage connects the South China Sea to the Sibuyan Sea.

My place in this place:

Five years ago I attended a community listening meeting hosted by Roishetta Ozane in Lake Charles. Ozane, founder of the Vessel Project of Louisiana, is working with communities in southwest Louisiana on environmental education and justice and bringing people together around the world — from Louisiana to Texas to Japan, the Philippines, Canada, and other connected places. I listened with Roishetta for my film effort “Gulf Coast Love Story,” traveling from the borderlands of Texas to New Orleans, listening to people talking about the impacts of liquified natural gas while envisioning a healthy future with clean energy, clean air, clean water, and healthy communities.

Roishetta Ozane / Photo by Dayna Reggero

Since attending Roishetta’s first community meeting, I’ve listened on her journey to Washington, D.C. to join Jane Fonda for Fire Drill Friday, and Jane has joined us over the past couple years, filming Roishetta and frontline heroes for the new film “Gaslit.” I’ve listened as Roishetta has helped and provided aid, and I’ve listened as she’s shared voices from the frontlines calling on the big banks financing fossil fuels with her Gulf South Fossil Finance Hub. I am grateful to listen all the way to the Philippines to meet smiling faces and beautiful communities working together as part of the Protect VIP campaign. We honored the moment when President Biden paused all LNG exports.

Who’s protecting it now:

The Vessel Project of Louisiana, a grassroots mutual aid, disaster relief, and environmental justice organization in Southwest Louisiana. Connect with Vessel Project of Louisiana: VesselProjectofLouisiana.org.

The Center for Energy, Ecology, and Development is a think-do institution aimed at providing relevant data and information on issues pertaining to energy, integrity of ecosystems, and general development pursued by the Philippines. CEED envisions a people-oriented, accessible and sustainable energy that respects the integrity and preservation of the environment and ecology while promoting social progress with social justice. Connect with CEED: ceedphilippines.com.

What this place needs:

Roishetta Ozane, founder of the Vessel Project of Louisiana, believes that “The best way to help people is by asking them what will help.”

 See more:

The post Protect This Place: Connected Communities on the U.S. Gulf Coast and the Philippines appeared first on The Revelator.

This week we look at the relationship between humans and wildlife. Are we working together? PTSD is the result of climate degradation and affects all living beings in our world. Let’s explore this further.

Dear Dr. Green,

Can animals get PTSD? I think about all those animals constantly fleeing wildfires here in California and I worry. Tanya K.

Thank you for your question, Tanya.

Yes. Sadly, science has shown, wild animals can experience PTSD, a.k.a. post-traumatic stress disorder.

These studies, started in the 1990s, coined the term ecology of fear. This concept describes the ripple or domino effect that occurs when the destruction of one species negatively affects an entire biological community, animal and plant life alike.

To a degree, the ecology of fear is normal in the wild: Prey species must maintain constant vigilance for predators to stay alive. However, the introduction of new predators — or new threats — can create a state of hypervigilance, one of the most common symptoms of PTSD.

In this case we might see humans as apex predators, sometimes referred to as superpredators, although that term remains under a fair amount of debate (and it’s worth noting that it’s not related to the harmful criminal justice trope used in the 1990s). Humans are causing the decline of populations, and extinction of wildlife species, at a rate and speed that far outpaces natural wildlife predation rates, due to our technological capabilities and tendency to overexploit and undervalue the natural world.

People all too often view nature as “other,” a place outside us, “a place to go” to spend vacations and weekends — often failing to understand that we’re active, integral beings intertwined in nature.

A Brief Look at How PTSD Works in Both Humans and Animals

Brain imaging shows that humans with PTSD have remarkably altered brain structures. Trauma causes startling physical and chemical changes in the hippocampus, amygdala, telomeres, and Broca’s center that compromise the growth of new neurons (neurogenesis). The mind is unable to put traumatic memories in sequential order. PTSD patients get “stuck” in memory loops of the trauma (the past) and find it difficult to resolve the trauma; they often struggle to move forward, never have children or leave the ones they have, and separate themselves from society (the herd) by moving around restlessly.

This is a very simplistic explanation of post-trauma for the purpose of demonstrating how our trauma responses correlate to those of wildlife and can illustrate how trauma affects wildlife living in threatened natural settings and unrealistic artificial habitats.

Scientific research is increasingly showing the same neurogenesis in wildlife: Trauma stemming from the destruction of habitat, torture, threat of death, and other human-causes hardships results in permanent fear, startle effect, hypervigilance, and anxiety. The brains of animals, though differently structured from humans, react similarly to trauma (depending upon the particular species, of course).

Wild creatures can likewise experience depression, lack of interest or cessation of reproduction, or loss of direction in migratory patterns or loss of their traditional seasonal homing locations due to habitat destruction and have greatly reduced survival rates during or after anthropogenic disasters associated with climate change, such as forest fires, drought, floods, and other crises.

We’ve included some examples of scientific studies of PTSD in wildlife in the resources list below. To outline all of the studies over the past century here would be impossible but take a look for proof that PTSD between humans and wildlife is strongly correlated.

Some other examples of direct infliction of trauma on wildlife by humans include overproduction of agriculture to meet increasing human populations, overfishing, overhunting, habitat destruction, placing value on animal parts (poaching, illegal wildlife trade), hunting for social status (“trophies”, or “aphrodisiac medicines”), and keeping wild animals as “pets,” symbols of wealth and human superiority.

So, Tanya K. and other readers, what will calm your worry about wildlife and your concern they have PTSD? For starters, participation in the environmental movement — a mightily empowering endeavor. Do some research on where your current skills and talents in other fields could help prevent disasters like wildfires and protect wildlife.

We hurt ourselves, as well as the rest of the living, by “othering” wildlife. The best cure for our worry and discomfort is to get off the observation deck and into the fray.

Let me know how it goes — Dr. Green always welcomes life stories when it comes to saving the planet.

Cheers!

Dr. Green

What are you struggling with emotionally when it comes to your relationship with our planet? What are your challenges and concerns? Do you have some success stories to share with our readers?  I want to know! Maybe together we can come up with strategies that will enrich your inner—and outer life! 

See you next time!

Share your challenges and success stories by sending Dr. Green your questions using the form below:

Resources:

Ecology of Fear  (Zanette LY, Clinchy M. Ecology of fear. Curr Biol. 2019 May 6;29(9):R309-R313. doi: 10.1016/j.cub.2019.02.042. PMID: 31063718).

Ecology and Neurobiology of Fear in Free-Living Wildlife (Liana Y. Zanette, Michael Clinchy. 2020. Ecology and Neurobiology of Fear in Free-Living Wildlife. Annual Review Ecology, Evolution, and Systematics. 51:297-318. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-ecolsys-011720-124613).

Wolves and their prey all fear the human “super predator” (Kasper, Katharina et al. “Wolves and their prey all fear the human “super predator”.” Current biology: CB vol. 35,20 (2025): 5111-5117.e3. doi:10.1016/j.cub.2025.09.018).

 “Predator-induced fear causes PTSD-like changes in the brains and behaviour of wild animals”. (Zanette, Liana Y.; Hobbs, Emma C.; Witterick, Lauren E.; MacDougall-Shackleton, Scott A.; Clinchy, Michael (2019-08-07). “Predator-induced fear causes PTSD-like changes in the brains and behaviour of wild animals”. Scientific Reports. 9 (1): 11474. Bibcode:2019NatSR…911474Z. doi:10.1038/s41598-019-47684-6)

Check out the Journal for Ecopsychology, a peer-reviewed journal founded in 2009 that “places psychology and mental health in an ecological context to recognize the links between human health, culture, and the health of the planet.”

Reporting on PTSD in Wildlife (just a few examples):

• • • Do Wild Animals Get PTSD? Many creatures show lasting changes in behavior and physiology after a traumatic experience
    • Humans are ‘unique super-predators’
    • The Challenges of Studying (and Treating) PTSD in Chimpanzees: Apes used in animal testing often display symptoms of psychological trauma. Wildlife sanctuaries are helping them recover. (The Revelator, April 22, 2024 – by Tim Brinkhof)
    • New research shows that elephants and other animals can suffer from PTSD
    • Do Wild Animals Suffer from PTSD and Other Psychological Disorders?

Republish this article for free! Read our reprint policy.

The post Dr. Green: Can Wildlife Get PTSD? appeared first on The Revelator.

The first time I was asked to explain why a forest was dying, I expected to face the most difficulty in diagnosing the problem. Instead I experienced an even more complex challenge — one my training had not prepared me to expect.

It happened during a field excursion in Denmark as part of my master’s program, where my cohort of forestry students and I were brought to a small-scale, family-owned forest. Denmark has experienced a steady increase in forest cover since the introduction of the Danish Forest Act in 1805, from roughly 2% to 15% over the past two centuries. Many landowners — like the ones we visited — have an incentive to convert agricultural lands into forests for harvesting timber, often growing North American conifer species that are in global demand.

I didn’t fully grasp it at the time, but having this historical, social, and economic insight would have been extremely valuable.

As we gathered amongst the uniform rows of declining, exotic trees, our professor stood beside the two landowners, an elderly father and son. He then addressed our small but eager group of graduate students and asked us a question, which in hindsight was far more consequential than intended: “Can you explain why their forest is not thriving?”

Our classes had armed us with silvicultural theory and ecological knowledge, so it felt obvious that the forest — recently established on former agricultural land using nonnative species — had become heavily infested with Heterobasidion root rot that would render the site severely compromised for at least this first generation of trees. Unbeknownst to the father and son, their forest had become unhealthy and would not be profitable within their lifetimes.

The science was very clear to us students. However, it was unclear how we were supposed to convey and contextualize this while standing across from the people who were suffering the inevitable consequences.

Within minutes the atmosphere shifted. What was meant to be an engaging and cooperative experience across landowners and scholars quickly became tense and uncomfortable as some of us quietly blamed the owners for making management choices that were irreparably harmful, not just for themselves but for the environment as a whole.

Other students sympathized with the owners, who had simply acted in accordance with generous subsidies provided by their government. As the tone of the conversation devolved further, I felt painfully conflicted and equally understanding of the two opposing sides. Still, no one asked the most important question: What did the landowners need from us?

I had hoped that a later discussion, or even a formal lecture, would follow this excursion, so that we could be equipped for similar situations in the future. My peers and I were left with many questions about what could be learned from that day, and how we might act in the future to support both forests and forest owners. Unfortunately, this dialogue never took place.

A Rift Between Science and Society

This story is not unique to one educational excursion. Across the globe, scientists must explain complex environmental realities to the people whose livelihoods, identities, cultures, and futures are tied to forests. Climate change, invasive species, and land exploitation all coincide with management approaches that have deeply social, political, and economic implications.

Despite our collective need to address each of these problems and their drivers, institutions frequently fail at translating decades of research into meaningful action. We have seemingly neglected a crucial step of the scientific method: dissemination and implementation.

At its core, this is a communication breakdown, and as a result public opinion suffers from distrust and misinformation.

Arguably, scientists and academics bear the immense responsibility of situating their knowledge within societal contexts and applications — especially in the forestry sector, where our actions (or inactions) today will materialize centuries into the future.

This rift reflects a deeper systemic issue in the natural and “hard” sciences. While it is apparent that environmental experts must approach today’s wicked problems through interdisciplinary thinking, universities lag behind these circumstances. Social sciences in particular are often treated as peripheral, rather than complementary, to empirical science.

As an advocate and student of science, I ask: Where policy is created and decision-making occurs, for either the betterment or destruction of the planet, is it in our best interest as a scientific community to avoid the human dimensions of our work?

Lessons Learned

After the field excursion, I began writing my thesis on bridging the youth-nature divide through forest education. Through my research, I came to understand how environmental progress requires us to connect scientific information with societal needs and values.

Much of this work can be advanced in universities, and even primary education, by equipping upcoming generations with both technical and soft skills for problem-solving. Practice in navigating conflict, training in creative thinking, and a learned appreciation for diverse knowledge systems must be mandatory learning outcomes for any student. As one person I interviewed articulated: “It’s about making the students empowered and resilient.”

From this perspective, my fellow forestry students would have benefitted from an educational approach that included social, political, and historical awareness alongside ecological knowledge.

To move beyond this knowledge-action gap, scientists must recognize integrated and iterative communication as essential to the research process. In practice, this means engaging nonscientists and adapting research outputs and public education in response to their feedback. For practitioners and citizens who care about our forests and a sustainable future, demanding accessible and sustained communication across sectors provides a promising pathway forward.

In hindsight, I wish I had invited the forest owners to share their personal goals, understanding, and challenges to provide a relational context for my technical diagnosis. I wish I’d had the foundation in social sciences that I do now. Maybe that more holistic toolkit would have allowed for a constructive dialogue centered around solutions.

The post The World’s Forests Won’t Be Saved by Science Alone: We Need Better Communication appeared first on The Revelator.

In the early morning, the light in the Atacama Desert is still a muted gray. In places the ground is damp, moistened by fog that flows in gentle waves over rocks and scree slopes at daybreak. In northern Chile this weather phenomenon is known as the camanchaca, bringing life where it sometimes doesn’t rain for decades.

Thanks to this climate, some of the world’s rarest cacti grow along the steep coastal hills around the town of Paposo: the Copiapoa. These plants draw nearly all their water from the maritime fog, which sustains surprising biodiversity in an otherwise hostile region.

The Desert Walkers

Few people know this desert as well as Mauricio González. With his volunteer group, the Caminantes del Desierto (Desert Walkers), he regularly patrols the Atacama with a notebook, camera, and water, mapping cactus populations and documenting changes.

In recent years the walkers have seen disturbing patterns.

“We have witnessed the death of entire cactus populations — hundreds of plants simply disappearing,” González says. When fog moisture is no longer sufficient, the plants overheat. Volunteers try to water them, “but often we arrive too late. Then we find only remnants — literally charred by the sun.”

Many Copiapoa are over a century old and adapted to the desert’s extremes. But climate change — hotter temperatures, drier winds, less fog — is pushing them beyond their limits.

A second pressure compounds the crisis.

“We have also observed massive extraction of rare species for the illegal trade,” González says. Local poachers dig up plants for a flourishing global black market. “A loss that cannot be repaired without the help of experts and the public.”

Copiapoa are among the most endangered cactus genera in the world. Researchers still debate their taxonomy, but the International Union for Conservation of Nature has assessed 39 taxa and listed 29 as threatened. Six are considered critically endangered. International trade is restricted or prohibited under the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species, the global treaty that regulates cross-border trade in wild species to prevent overexploitation — a system that also governs how Copiapoa can, or cannot, be traded.

For botanist Pablo Guerrero of the Universidad de Concepción, the sharp rise in illegal extraction is especially troubling. He links it directly to international buyers.

“The demand comes from enthusiasts who want to own a piece of the desert — ideally with all the marks of the wild,” he says. For many collectors, Copiapoa have become status symbols, especially when the plants come directly from their natural habitat.

Smartphones and social media have made this trade easier.

“A lot happens via Facebook and Instagram,” Guerrero says. “Buyers can choose the plants themselves. Some sellers even stream live videos from the desert and ask which plants they should dig up.”

The latest IUCN assessment for the species “is significantly worse than the one we conducted 10 years ago,” he adds. He emphasizes that these pressures do not act independently: “Climate change does not act in isolation. It interacts with threats like habitat loss or declining habitat quality.”

Copiapoa grow extremely slowly; some species grow only millimeters per year and take decades to flower. Although they have adapted to life in tough desert conditions, plant ecologist Michiel Pillet of the University of Lausanne, who studies the genus’ climate sensitivity, warns against assuming that cacti are universally hardy.

“Cacti … are adapted to the conditions in their distribution range,” he says. “If those conditions change, as they already are under human-induced climate change, species must adapt, shift their range — or go extinct.”

Pillet’s modeling suggests Copiapoa could lose up to 60% of their habitat as fog patterns and temperatures change.

Illegal trade adds further pressure. A recent study found that 31% of all cactus species worldwide are threatened by poaching — one of the highest rates among plant groups.

The ecological impact becomes visible in the Atacama. Copiapoa are not solitary organisms but structural species that collectively create shade, store moisture, and provide habitat. “They create microclimatic refuges where vertebrates can live and protect themselves not only from the harsh environment but also from predators,” Guerrero explains. Their pollen supports insects and other invertebrates. Removing even a few plants disrupts these networks; the loss of many can be devastating.

A Landmark Ruling

More than 7,500 miles away, in the Italian port city of Ancona, another dimension of the Copiapoa crisis unfolded. Through spring 2025, a courtroom examined the largest documented theft of Copiapoa plants — a case whose extensive investigation became known as “Operation Atacama.”

The case began in February 2020, when Italy’s Carabinieri Forestali — the country’s environmental and forestry police — followed information provided by botanist Andrea Cattabriga in the town of Senigallia. Cattabriga regularly assists European Union authorities in identifying illegally traded ornamental plants.

Inside dealer Andrea Piombetti’s apartment, officers found more than 1,000 Copiapoa. Some species were entirely prohibited from commercial trade; others lacked required documents. The estimated market value exceeded €1 million (about $1.16 million U.S.).

“My first reaction when I saw the Copiapoa was shock — because there had already been a similar incident with this trader years earlier, when he could not be convicted,” Cattabriga recalls.

Forensic evidence and soil samples linked the plants to repeated trips Piombetti made to Chile between 2016 and 2019. Messages and auction records on his devices revealed an international network of at least 10 dealers and 10 regular buyers, with plants sold to collectors in Japan, South Korea, and North America. Piombetti’s closest accomplice, Mattia Crescentini, advertised plants through a since-deleted Instagram account called “Cactus_Italy.”

Piombetti and Crescentini were convicted in criminal court in January 2025, receiving fines and suspended sentences. But the case gained additional significance when Cattabriga’s NGO — the Associazione per la Biodiversità e la sua Conservazione — filed a civil claim arguing that the illegal extraction caused a moral injury to nature and, therefore, damaged ABC’s mission of protecting nature.

In the spring of 2025, the court recognized this second claim — a first in a civil biodiversity case in Italy.

The defendants appealed. Their procedural challenge before Italy’s Supreme Court of Cassation was rejected, and the case was sent back to the Court of Appeal for further review. A new hearing is currently scheduled for spring 2026.

If the original decision is upheld, Piombetti and Crescentini would need to pay €20,000 in damages to ABC — money that, according to Cattabriga, would support cactus research, public outreach, and protection.

“What makes this case absolutely unique is that, for the first time in history, a court ordered those responsible to pay damages to an organization — our association — for harming its mission to protect nature,” Cattabriga says. The ruling symbolically acknowledged “a nature that is finally recognized here in all its components: plants, animals, but also rivers, forests, entire ecosystems … with a right to exist.”

This is exactly the kind of precedent environmental scientist Jacob Phelps hopes to strengthen. A longtime advisor to ABC, he is also cofounder of Conservation Litigation, an initiative promoting legal tools for conservation.

“It is very unusual for the state to use its authority to seek remedies for environmental damage,” Phelps says. The Ancona ruling marked the first time in Italy that a conservation organization received damages for biodiversity loss. According to Phelps, such recognition can have symbolic power and may influence courts in other countries. “Access to justice is realistic in many countries — if you know how to do it and if the costs remain manageable,” he says.

Conservation Litigation is supporting similar cases in countries such as the Philippines, Liberia, and Indonesia, focused on habitat destruction and wildlife trade. The aim is to establish that ecological damage can be treated as a civil harm within national legal systems.

For now the Ancona case remains an exception — and its influence will depend partly on how restitution is conceived in practice.

Sending Them Back to the Desert

In April 2021 around 840 confiscated Copiapoa were transferred from Milan’s botanical garden back to Chile. More than 100 of the plants had already died; others remained in Milan for research.

The repatriation was organized by the IUCN Cactus and Succulent Plants Specialist Group under Bárbara Goettsch.

“There was no protocol for returning confiscated plants,” Goettsch says. “We had to develop the procedure step by step ourselves.”

It was the first large-scale return of living cacti to their country of origin, although true reintroduction proved impossible. Many plants had unclear origins, were genetically mixed, or carried potential disease risks. Most will remain under cultivation.

Still, Goettsch calls the case “unprecedented” — less for ecological impact than for awareness raising and international cooperation.

“Many people do not realize that their plant may have been illegally collected. They buy based on appearance — not on origin,” she says.

This desire drives illegal extraction.

“Demand comes from enthusiasts who want to own a piece of the desert — preferably with all the traces of wilderness intact,” Guerrero says. Social media makes it easier: “Some sellers even stream live videos from the desert and ask which plants they should dig up,” he explains. Many Copiapoa are listed only under CITES Appendix II, which regulates but does not prohibit trade. “Some species should be moved to Appendix I,” Goettsch says. “But without capacity building, that won’t help much.” Enforcement authorities worldwide struggle to distinguish legal from illegal plants.

European nurseries grow cacti from global seed stocks, but cultivated plants lack the appearance of old, wild specimens, which often bear scars from decades of exposure — including weathering, sun damage, and lichen growth — that give them a distinct, aged form shaped by harsh desert conditions.

“Trade in European-produced cacti is legal — but it does not help conservation in the countries of origin,” Goettsch says. “Not a single cent from what is sold in Europe goes back to Chile.”

Botanical gardens could support conservation, but many are underfunded and at capacity.

More serious, Pillet warns, is a growing divide between researchers, conservation practitioners, and hobby growers. “Illegal trade has driven a wedge between research, practice, and hobby cultivation.”

Despite steep losses, González and the Caminantes continue searching remote hillsides for surviving plants. Some undocumented species persist in hidden spots known only to the volunteers, who carry water to them in summer.

One site near Mejillones haunts González. Thousands of Copiapoa solaris once grew there, some nearly a meter tall. Today almost all are dead — except for two standing on a windswept ridge.

“We devote our full attention to these two. We preserve them at any cost,” he says.

Their survival is a quiet act of defiance — against the disappearance of life from the desert.

Republish this article for free! Read our reprint policy.

The post A Cactus in Court appeared first on The Revelator.

One evening last winter, I sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic on an eight-lane highway. It was rush hour but felt much later, with dark gray clouds hanging low in the sky. Red LED taillights blinked on and off as the traffic inched forward alongside a mass of dirty, day-old snow on the shoulder. Exhaust from the idling cars floated skyward, and I imagined it getting trapped under the low clouds, contributing to the sooty darkness.

Itching to get home, I turned on CBC News, the local radio station. The voice of Dr. Holli-Anne Passmore, associate professor of psychology at Concordia University of Edmonton, cut through the hum of the motor and the neighboring car’s stereo bass.

Passmore recounted how she had spent years studying how to move the needle on emotional wellbeing. Particularly during the winter, she said, many people find themselves struggling with the dreary days and shorter daylight hours. The gloomy suburban landscape through my windshield offered little in the way of contradictory evidence.

Passmore’s research on improving mental states pointed to something extremely simple: noticing nature. In a study involving 395 undergraduate students in Edmonton, and later replicated among 173 undergraduate students in China, she showed that simply taking a moment to truly notice everyday nature (such as a tree on a street corner, a bird pecking at feed, or a squirrel racing along the top of a fence) can trigger feelings of joy, wonder, and gratitude. No sweeping wilderness vistas are required: Participants in her studies reported feeling more satisfaction with life and more connected to nature even in largely urban environments.

It was an appealing idea, though my own relationship with the natural world felt somewhat complicated.

Like many of us, I’ve spent my entire adult life under the shadow of the climate crisis, weighed down and sometimes paralyzed by climate despair. Pursuing a master’s degree in environmental policy at the University of Cambridge only made me feel more hopeless — how could I, an insignificant piece of an extractivist society that seemed hell-bent on self-destruction, ever hope to do anything about it?

While there’s no use in burying one’s head in the sand, there’s also an inherent tension between seeking out knowledge to inform oneself about the climate crisis and the emotional burden that comes with it.

Those who frequently read the news know this feeling all too well. Every day is like watching the ship approach the iceberg, seeing it looming just ahead but having no power to force the captain to chart a different course. It’s a deeply exhausting experience.

Today such eco-anxiety is common. While not a formal medical diagnosis, feelings of fear, rage, and sadness over rapidly rising global temperatures and resulting climatic crises can have significant mental health effects. The impact of eco-anxiety is greatest for young people, but it can affect people of all ages. Though it may sometimes drive positive behaviors such as activism, information-gathering, or efforts to reduce personal environmental impact, all too often it provokes a sense of helplessness.

How, then, can we as environmentalists immunize ourselves against this grief? How can we understand and care about what’s happening to our beautiful planet while still taking care of ourselves?

Passmore’s words lingered in my mind as I pulled into my driveway later that evening. Just inside my front door was my Monstera deliciosa houseplant. While I’d had the plant for a few years and was careful to water it regularly, I had seen it as more of a decorative, static object than a living thing.

But that night I bent down to observe it at eye level and saw a new, light green leaf just beginning to emerge from another stem. Without any intervention or attention on my part, this tiny miracle was taking place in my living room, creating life from sunlight, air, and water.

And so began a habit of truly noticing and marveling at the nature around me.

As the days grew longer and the months grew warmer, I found myself enchanted by dozens of small caterpillars inching across a hiking trail, by the leaves emerging slowly and then all at once from the maple tree on my street, and by the woodpecker that took up residence outside my window and woke me up in the wee hours of every morning. A walk by the lake was no longer solely for the purpose of getting fresh air but also an opportunity to examine the goose and goslings bobbing along beside the rocky shore. A sunny autumn afternoon on my grandfather’s hobby farm left me in awe of the gift of apple trees, heavy with fruit brought forth from the earth.

With this change in perspective came a change in my actions. I began having more positive and hopeful conversations with other environmentalists, felt compelled to donate to new conservation causes, and, perhaps most therapeutically, started writing.

As our planet continues to warm, an ever-greater number of people will be affected by eco-anxiety and environmental grief. However, we as environmentalists can and should combat this. Defending ourselves from environmental grief and apathy by choosing to notice the wonder of everyday nature can not only improve our mental health but also help us reconnect with the world we love so deeply.

Despair is not productive; it prevents us from taking the actions we need to seek change. A recent piece in The Revelator by Rick MacPherson said it well:

“But despair isn’t neutral. It doesn’t just describe reality. It shapes it. Despair hands momentum to the forces counting on our fatigue. To the industries that benefit when we withdraw. To leaders who flourish when we believe we are powerless. It masquerades as honesty. Underneath it is permission — not to feel, but to quit.”

We cannot afford to give ourselves this permission. We regain our power by allowing the wonder of nature to ground us and guide us, to cut through the fog of grief, to inspire our resolve, and to remind us why this matters.

If this simple act can help motivate us to demand something different, count me in — and in the meantime, I’ll be paying close attention to my houseplants.

Previously in The Revelator:

Dr. Green: A Wildlife Researcher Asks About Trauma and Grief

Republish this article for free! Read our reprint policy.

The post The Antidote to Your Eco-Anxiety May Be Right Outside appeared first on The Revelator.

Welcome to “Dr. Green’s Emotional Rescue,” our advice column designed to help environmentalists navigate the emotional and mental-health challenges of working toward a greener, healthier planet.

We’ve received many great questions from readers over the past few weeks (submit yours below). Here’s one that offers a chance to lay out some of the basics for environmentalists or anyone else seeking therapy:

Dear Dr. Green,

I’ve tried communicating my environmental anxieties to my therapist, but it feels like we’re speaking different languages. Are there some “therapy code words” I can use to get my points across? (Or do I need a new therapist???)

Thank you for your question.

This is a difficult question for me to answer because I’m not familiar with the relationship you have with your therapist when you’re “in session.” Nor should I inquire, due to the oath I made to The Ethics Code (Ethical Principles of Psychologists and Code of Conduct), which is the equivalent of The Hippocratic Oath that medical doctors take.

In general I can tell you how the therapist-client relationship or therapeutic alliance works. This may be helpful for all our readers who may be seeking psychotherapy, feeling unsatisfied with a current therapist, or simply curious about how therapy works.

Basically, therapists tend to focus on collaboration, empathy, positive regard, and acceptance. These are essential to building trust and safety between therapists and clients, and research shows they are effective. Collaboration is very important; the client and therapist must meet each other halfway. A central element of the therapeutic process is an openness to explore thoughts and feelings. Clients must be honest about how they feel, and therapists are responsible for finding ways to use their own experience in the service of their clients. Therapists should be nonjudgmental, actively present, and listening. There are no “therapy code words” that can get your points across.

There can always be challenges communicating about environmental issues to people who aren’t familiar with them, if that’s the case. But concentrating on collaborative communication should help you express your anxieties.

I can’t tell you what to do about continuing with any therapist; that’s up to you. However, if you decide to discontinue with your therapist, the resources below provide guidance in finding a therapist that is the best match for you.

Good luck and good mental health!

Dr. Green

What are you struggling with emotionally when it comes to your work in environmentalism? Do you have some success stories to share with our readers?  I want to know! Maybe together we can come up with strategies that will enrich your inner—and outer life! 

See you next time!

Share your challenges and success stories by sending Dr. Green your questions using the form below:

 

 

All participants will remain anonymous. This column is not a substitute for psychological therapy or care. We are merely a place where peers can find advice on handling their inner conflicts and problems as a result of their environmental efforts.

All questions are considered intended for publication; published questions will be kept anonymous. Individual replies are not possible.

Disclaimer: This column is not a replacement for therapy, and the advice given is educational in nature, not a replacement for professional psychological or psychiatric therapy. This is a peer-driven support effort by The Revelator to inform and build community with environmental and wildlife defenders.

Resources

Ethical Principles of Psychologists and Code of Conduct (The Ethics Code)

The Hippocratic Oath

Toward Causal Understanding of Therapist-Client Relationships: A Study of Language Modality and Social Entrainment

Vail, A. K., Girard, J. M., Bylsma, L. M., Cohn, J. F., Fournier, J., Swartz, H. A., & Morency, L. P. (2022). Toward Causal Understanding of Therapist-Client Relationships: A Study of Language Modality and Social Entrainment. Proceedings of the … ACM International Conference on Multimodal Interaction. ICMI (Conference), 2022, 487–494. https://doi.org/10.1145/3536221.3556616

Why the Most Important Part of Therapy Is So Misunderstood: The therapist-client relationship can’t go just one way. by Santiago Delboy, MBA, LCSW

Mental Health Match

A step-by-step guide to finding a therapist by Andrea Muraskin

The post Dr. Green: The Therapist-Patient Relationship appeared first on The Revelator.