Silent Summer: Editor Interview

Norman Maclean, editor of the best-selling Silent Summer Jacket ImageSilent Summer, talks to NHBS about his career, early home-grown experiments with nature conservation and the state of wildlife policy in Britain today.

What first inspired you to pursue your field of study, and how old were you?

I have been interested in wildlife since my earliest years (aged 6), being brought up amongst fields and farms on the outskirts of Edinburgh. I was equally interested in insects, birds, mammals and fish. My parents were very tolerant of my rearing caterpillars, beetles, field mice and newts at home, mostly in my bedroom.

What were the books that inspired you when you were young?

The books of Richard and Cherry Kearton on Nature Photography in St. Kilda and elsewhere.

“Direct From Nature: The Photographic Work of Richard and Cherry Kearton” by John Bevis.

Later, “Silent Spring” by Rachel Carson.

What is your all time favourite natural history book?

Gilbert White’s “Natural History of Selborne”.

Who are your heroes in the field?

Gilbert White, Charles Darwin, Gregor Mendel, David Attenborough.

How do you split your time between the field and your writing projects?

You might call me a polymath. Academically, I am Professor in Molecular Genetics, but I have strong hobby interests in wildlife, trout fishing, playing tennis, gardening, antiquities and travel.

How has your core understanding of the subject changed since you began your research?

Enormously. As a geneticist I have lived through 50 years of amazing discovery and change. In terms of wildlife, ecology and conservation I have always been a keen field biologist and have taught on student field courses in Southern Spain for over 20 years. I have also been witness to the alarming decline in insects and some birds and mammals. I have studied wildlife in over 50 countries worldwide, seeing the destruction of so much natural habitat, yet savouring the riches of what is left.

What has been the highlight of your career so far?

My main research topic is gene regulation, and I and my research group have made some signicant discoveries in this area. Maybe my proudest moment in youth was discovering the first breeding of the Golden Plusia moth in Scotland when I was twelve – confirmed by letter from the Edinburgh Museum of Natural History.

What do you consider to be the most interesting current developments in your field of study?

In genetics the sequencing of the genomes of many species including humans, and in conservation biology the return to the UK of breeding cranes, red kites, otters, pine martens and others.

Which current issues in conservation do you feel have the biggest impact on your field, and how would like to see these dealt with?

The realization that you cannot effectively conserve wildlife in the UK by making fences round reserves and letting nature take its course.  Ecologically speaking, almost all of Britain and Ireland has been moulded by human interference and activity so our future responsibility lies in the active management of wildlife, including judicious culling where necessary.

How would you like to see your field develop in the future?

With increased political prioritization of wildlife conservation and the preservation of what remains of the countryside. We must urgently control further human population increase and resist further demands on space, water supplies, energy supplies and contributions to global warming. We should all be prepared to reduce our own standards of living in order to improve those of the other species with which we share the planet.

Where will you be taking your next study trip?

Ethiopia.

What will your next book be?

I don’t know. Any ideas welcome!

If you could spend a month working in another field, which would you choose?

Ancient History.

How would you encourage young people who might be interested in pursuing a career in your field?

Get a degree in biology or genetics at a reputable university and learn your own fauna and flora.

Get your copy of Silent Summer today

Pitcher Plants of the Old World – An Interview with Stewart McPherson

Stewart McPherson, the author of the new two-volume set Pitcher Plants of the Old World and the best-selling Lost Worlds of the Guiana Highlands, took time out from his international adventures to answer a few questions for NHBS. We hope you enjoy reading more about Stewart’s experiences in the field!

What awakened your passion for pitcher plants and other carnivorous plants?
While at university, I took part in several rainforest conservation programmes in countries across Central America and Southeast Asia. One of these projects involved an eight week stay in the Maliau Basin in Sarawak, Malaysian Borneo, and this experience gave me the opportunity to observe Nepenthes in the wild for the first time. To my amazement, in the very first pitcher of a N. hirsuta plant which I examined, I found the body of a dead mouse, and from this experience, my fascination with carnivorous plants was fixed.

What variations exist between pitcher plants in the Old World and the New World?
In the Old World there are two genera (families) of Pitcher Plants – Nepenthes and Cephalotus. Nepenthes occur across tropical areas of the western hemisphere, mainly in Southeast Asia, and consists of 120 species, including the largest of all carnivorous plant species which produce giant “pitcher” traps larger than 3 litres in volume that occasionally trap prey as big as rats. Each species of Nepenthes differs in the shape, size and colouration of its pitchers – often these traps are bizarre and extremely beautiful. Cephalotus, on the other hand, grows only in S. E. Australia and produces small, purple pitchers the size of a thimble which are specialised towards the trapping of small prey, namely ants. 

There are five genera of pitcher plants in the New World (Americas). These include the Sarracenia of North America – which mainly produce striking, tall, but narrow, trumpet shaped pitchers that grow in marshy grasslands. Also in North America, there grows Darlingtonia – the cobra lily – which produces bizarre, cobra-shaped traps. Both the Sarracenia and Darlingtonia grow in temperate areas, so experience cold conditions (often frost and snow) in winter. So these plants can often be cultivated outdoors in England. In addition to these, there are three pitcher plant groups from the tropical Americas – the ancient Heliamphora which produce stout, cup shaped traps, and grow atop of the tepuis – ancient “lost-world” plateaus scattered across southern Venezuela, as well as representatives from two groups of tank bromeliads (Brocchinia and Catopsis).

All seven genera of pitcher plants are extraordinary – each with remarkable adaptations to kill insects and other small animals. They are also often very beautiful and colourful, and all seven groups are grown by increasing numbers of horticulturists around the world.

What has been your greatest discovery?
While undertaking research for Pitcher Plants of the Old World, I climbed a remote and little explored peak in Central Palawan, in the Philippines. After a difficult climb, on the top of this mountain, two friends and I discovered a spectacular, giant, new species of pitcher plant. It is one of the largest of all known pitcher plant species, producing traps over 30 cm long, and beautifully coloured with green, yellow, red and purple. I had been lucky to find several other new species on different mountains previously – but this was the most interesting by far, because it is so massive, colourful and beautiful. We decided to name this new plant after Sir David Attenborough – and so it is now formally been described Nepenthes attenboroughii. Both a description of this new plant, and an account of how it was discovered, are presented in Pitcher Plants of the Old World, Volume Two.

Tell us about some of the challenges that you’ve experienced in the field.
I prepared Pitcher Plants of the Old World in response to the lack of available information on dozens of species of Nepenthes. Since many species of Nepenthes are not in cultivation, and also because there is often confusion concerning those that are, I resolved to study and photograph each species of Nepenthes and Cephalotus in the wild, in order to document each adequately. After graduating from university in 2006 at the age of 23, I began three years of intense research focusing on Nepenthes and Cephalotus, and spent a cumulative total of eighteen months in the field. Over the last three years, I climbed over one hundred mountains across Southeast Asia in search of species of Nepenthes. Many of these journeys were relatively simple, lasting just a few days or less. Others required more extensive effort, and in a few cases, I spent more than one week to find a single Nepenthes taxon.

This endeavour has been a journey in every sense of the word. It has taken me to Nepenthes habitats in mine fields, various rebel and guerilla conflict zones, through prison grounds guided by murderers, to the slopes of active, smoldering volcanoes. I travelled through intense storms, floods, and repeatedly to the habitat of wild tigers, elephants and always the ubiquitous leeches of the forests of Southeast Asia. Several times I had to resort to drastic measures, for example when running short on food, I was forced to eat wild frogs in Kalimantan and fruit bats in Sulawesi. Often the journey has been physically difficult, and a few times I had to accept failure and return disheartened from difficult efforts to climb mountains that could not be summited. Equally on a few occasions, after spending days climbing peaks, sometimes no pitcher plants were to be found. The great botanist Carolus Linnaeus named Nepenthes after a spirit that banishes all ills and grief, and as he prophetically suggested 250 years ago, after every success in finding remarkable Nepenthes species, all thoughts of past difficulties and hardships are replaced with amazement and wonder, and so it has been for me. This search has given me a wealth of memories from the most beautiful corners of the world which I will always treasure. From countless beautiful rainforest scenes, to the summits of many misty, tropical mountains, and even to the cliffs of remote coral islands. I had the privilege of venturing to some of the enduringly least explored corners of Southeast Asia, through traditional villages to remote mountain peaks to encounter four new species of Nepenthes. However, all journeys inevitably end, and this one is now complete shortly before my 26th birthday. Undertaking this work has been both the most difficult, but equally the most enjoyable experience of my life, and I sincerely hope that you might you enjoy the result.

What are the most pressing conservation concerns affecting pitcher plants in the wild?
Several species of Nepenthes are either on the verge of extinction in the wild, and one may already have been completely wiped out. Because dozens of species of Nepenthes pitcher plants occur only on one mountain and no where else in the world, and since in a few cases, the total wild population may be just a few hundred plants, they are at serious risk of being poached, overcollected or having their habitat destroyed. This risk is made even greater because of the value of these plants – horticultural interest is such that even seedlings of the most rare and sought after species are often worth hundreds of pounds, dollars or euros.

In general, poaching represents the biggest threat overall to most pitcher plant species, but habitat loss, mining, forest fires and a plethora of other factors are also real risks to these incredible plants. Realistically, it is highly likely that several species may become extinct over the next few years in the wild. Which is why it is important for horticulturists, botanic gardens and conservation organisations to work together and maintain collections of different strains of the rarest species to prevent complete loss. Perhaps one day, the rarest species may be reintroduced back into the world – and for this hope – the horticulture represents the only means of survival for several species for the time being. Documenting both the status of the various pitcher plant species, and the various threats and practical means of conservation are fundamental elements in the books that I have written.

Is there an increasing interest in pitcher plants outside of academia?
Definitely. There are dozens of specialist societies, horticultural nurseries, online forums and thousands of websites – not just in Europe and north America, but increasingly across Asia and Australia. More and more horticulturists are becoming fascinated by these alluring, bizarre, but beautiful plants of prey.

What would you recommend to people interested in seeing pitcher plants in their natural habitat?
The most spectacular and fun place to see pitcher plants in the wild is Mount Kinabalu in Sabah, Borneo. This mountain is great to climb. It is located in the Kinabalu National Park – which is incredibly organised and a model for sustainable management of wilderness areas. Tours are easy to book (but often sell out during busy seasons). The climb takes just one day each way, and you reach the top of the highest peak in Southeast Asia. On the way, you see several spectacular species of pitcher plants. But – a little known secret – is that when you descend – ask your guide (before you start your climb) to go down via the Mesilau centre. This is a beautiful resort – but right by the resort, there is a short trail which all the guides know. It is called the nepenthes rajah trail, and along this short walk, you see the largest of all pitcher plant species – N. rajah – which produces pitchers that trap prey as large as rats! It is incredibly easy to see (just a 10 minute walk from the resort) and breathtakingly beautiful. The plants are strictly protected and well managed, and the revenue from your visit helps maintain the area.

Tell us about your best-selling book, Lost Worlds of the Guiana Highlands. What drew you to publish a book about this subject? What are the logistics involved in visiting such an isolated place?  
The book is about the tepuis – the immense, sandstone plateaus of Southern Venezuela and borderlands of northern Brazil and western Guyana. These mountains are simply the most extraordinary and breathtaking places on the planet – each is encircled by towering sandstone cliffs up to 1,000 meters tall. The summits of each of these so called “lost worlds” has remained variably isolated for millions of years – and today they are home to many ancient plants and animals that occur no where else in South America. Indeed, some of the animals on top of these great plateaus are most similar to extinct fossils. The story of how these tablelands were discovered and explored inspired Arthur Conan Doyle’s adventure classic “The Lost World”.

I had always been interested in these mysterious mountains because they are the home of the Heliamphora pitcher plants (see above) which I had grown since a child. I was actually undertaking a conservation project whilst in Belize, and after five months working in the jungle and teaching in a remote village, I returned back to a seaside village for a break, and after diving one day, found a copy of a May 1989 National Geographic magazine including an absolutely spectacular article on these mountains. At the time, there were no detailed books about these mountains, how they had formed, how they were discovered, or the weird wildlife of their summits. So at that moment, I decided to write a book on the subject.

Visiting the tepuis is not easy. Most can be accessed only by helicopter. Only four tepuis can be climbed – only one of which – Mount Roraima – is regularily visited. Mount Roraima is a tourist attraction and many people climb up it each year. I had to visit 20 or so of these tepuis to undertake the research I needed to finish my book, which took 6 months of traveling. These mountains take my breath away – they are still (in my opinion) the most incredible and spectacular places on earth.

Of the many places you’ve visited in your travels, which ones stand out in your mind? Why?
Aside from the tepuis – I think the Philippines. I spent 14 weeks researching the pitcher plants of this beautiful country. The people are the friendliest, kindest and in many ways the most innocent and warm I have met. The landscape is extraordinarily varied and beautiful, as is the wildlife. However this is a country with a turbulent past that has seen more than its fair share of troubles. Partly due to this history and political instability, the wildlife – especially the plant life – remains little documented. The pitcher plants of the Philippines have hardly been studied. My friend and I found several new species there, as well as spotting one species of pitcher plant that had not been seen for more than a hundred years. Without a doubt, there are more new species of pitcher plants (and of course other plants and animals) awaiting discovery in the Philippines. The Philippines is also one of the most interesting places I have ever been to; from chickens and goats on buses, to local “delicacies” such as unhatched eggs, to jeepneys – perhaps the strangest type of vehicle ever built – you really can’t guess what each day will hold.

Browse the two-volume set Pitcher Plants of the Old World

Browse the best-selling Lost Worlds of the Guiana Highlands

An Interview with Richard Wrangham – Author of Science and Conservation in African Forests

Science and Conservation in African ForestsScience and Conservation in African Forests illustrates the key role that field stations play in conservation using a unique case study from Kibale National Park. We caught up with author Richard Wrangham at the International Primatological Society Congress this August in Edinburgh and asked him a few questions about Kibale and the research that’s being undertaken there.

What is the most pressing requirement for the conservation of Apes? What is the role of field stations in that?

Every population needs advocates on its behalf, because without them the pressures of habitat loss and hunting take a continuing toll until there is nothing left. The advocates are sometimes government departments such as national parks and forestry, and sometimes conservation NGOs, but field stations provide critical extra voices that maintain a call for protection when other advocates are too busy or distracted. Field stations lead to scientists, conservations and government representatives working together, trusting each other and cooperating for conservation. They generate information, education, and publicity.

You make a compelling case for the establishment of a greater number of field stations – what is needed to bring this about?

Field stations tend to evolve rather than be created de novo (since the investment required to make something out of nothing is rather a big gamble), and they depend very much on the initiative of their founders and directors. But at some point they also depend on substantial support from agencies with a vision of just how much field stations can achieve. From the researchers’ perspective, we need to do a better job in documenting the conservation impact that field stations have had, and getting that information into the awareness of donors.

I believe that enlightened donors at the major international level will come to recognize the importance of field stations as foci of conservation. It would be very exciting to see some large initiatives by big donors, such as aiming to provide support to convert a number of small research programs into long-term field programs every year. The ultimate vision should be that every major forest needs a monitoring presence to help it survive, and national and international field stations are a key part of that future.

The long-term viability of research stations like Kibale seems to depend on the passion and dedication of a few committed individuals over many years. Is there a need for the multitude of roles a field research station can play to become more widely accepted in order for their long-term viability to be assured?

Field stations seem to have a rather predictable growth and development. They begin as sites of pure research, but as they grow they take on increasing numbers of people interested in conservation and community development. Committed individuals are needed to help reach the point where it becomes an easy place to work, but then it takes on a life of its own.

Have funders/philanthropists been sold on the direct conservation benefits field stations can bring? What more could be done to promote this view?

I believe the donors do not yet appreciate the multiple impacts that come from field stations. My hope is that our book will launch a conversation among primatologists that will lead to more realization of this point through publicity, research on the impacts themselves, and imagining how much more could be achieved in the future.

Are field stations and their long-term research a pre-requisite for effective conservation in African forests (and elsewhere)?

They are not a pre-requisite but they are a vital component. The current situation is very severe because we face a rapidly growing and already intense series of threats. Forests are falling, and hunting is often excessive. Every effort helps, and the effort provided by field stations is particularly valuable because of the intimate knowledge that it provides, the long-term relationships it generates, and the passionate constituencies of support.

What’s the best way for researchers interested in working at or with a field station to find out more about the locations and their facilitates? There doesn’t seem to be a anywhere with an up to date list of research stations?

This is a great point! I do not know of any international data banks about field stations. It could be a helpful development.

How do field stations like Kibale and eco-tourism interact? How can they work together?

In Kibale eco-tourism is confined to one area, and research to another. The relationship works well. Obviously the system has to be adapted to different locales. The important thing is that people trust each other to collaborate – i.e. the managers of eco-tourism, and the researchers – which comes about through longterm commitment.

How do local communities benefit from the research at field stations?

Local communities benefit in ways that differ in each site, but typical benefts include employment, eco-tourism, direct investment in community institutions such as schools, and help with planning resource use such as firewood.

Could you describe for us a typical day in the field at Kibale?

On a fieldwork day, I leave camp at 5 with two research assistants and a graduate student, walk for 30-60 minutes into the forest, sit by a nesting site where we left chimpanzees last night. The next half-hour while dawn breaks is perfect – silent in the forest while chimpanzees slowly stir above us, maybe calling evocatively. They climb down and start the day by walking to a fruit-tree. We follow, and join their rhythm all day, feed, rest (and groom) and travel. At mid-day we each step away and hide from the chimpanzees while we eat our own lunch. By evening we have walked for several kilometers and are grateful when they finally climb to make nests again. We reach camp between 7 and 8, go to our lab to process specimens we have collected, and finally sit down to eat and chat in camp about which chimpanzees we saw that day, what interesting things they did, and why!

An Exclusive Interview with Sharon Chester – Author of a Wildlife Guide to Chile

Sharon ChesterSharon Chester’s new Wildlife Guide to Chile is the first field guide to this diverse country’s flora and fauna. Sharon is a naturalist, wildlife photographer, illustrator, and author of several natural history guides, including Birds of Chile/Aves de Chile, Antarctic Birds and Seals, and South to Antarctica. We interviewed Sharon for The Hoopoe to celebrate the publication.

When did you first visit Chile and what first drew you there?

I made my first trip to Chile in December 1983. I was chasing birds – the sheathbill, in particular. I had spent several years trying to see all the bird families of the world and Chionididae, the sheathbill family, was one missing from my list. December and January were the only months I could get away, and at that time of year most self-respecting sheathbills are in Antarctica. So, my husband and I decided to travel a bit through southern Chile before embarking on a cruise from Punta Arenas, Chile, to the Antarctic Peninsula and then on to the Ross Sea and New Zealand.

I vividly remember landing in Santiago for the first time. Our Lan Chile jet made its approach over the Andes into Santiago on one of those glorious, clear, Sunday summer mornings when the snow-capped mountains and the Pacific Ocean simply danced with light. That unforgettable sight certainly captured my heart, only to be augmented by the gracious hospitality of the Chilean people and the fine cuisine and wine offered in even the most humble setting.

Other memories stand out from that first visit. I will never forget the morning I was waiting for an elevator on the top floor of the Cabo de Hornos Hotel in Punta Arenas. I casually glanced out the seaside window and out there, over the windblown waves of the Strait of Magellan, were a dozen or more black-browed albatrosses soaring and banking in the gale.

That incident ranks second only to the occasion of my first landing in Antarctica. We landed by zodiac on Nelson Island, which is located in the South Shetlands near the Chilean naval base, Captain Arturo Prat. It was evening and the penguin colony was in full swing. Weddell seals were thick on the beach, penguins newly returned from foraging at sea were preening on the shore, penguin chicks were peeping for food, and snowy sheathbills (the original objects of my quest) were nonchalantly picking their way through the colony. As the sun dipped to the horizon, the clouds turned fiery, and a lone Adelie penguin jumped onto a rocky ledge, distancing himself from the mob and guano below. He arched his back, threw back his head and flippers, and let out a joyous, raucous bray of ecstasy. That moment and sound are etched in my memory forever.

How did you happen to return to Chile so many times?

My first two visits to Chile in 1983 and 1984 were for tourism and birdwatching. From 1985 to 1996, I worked as a naturalist on various expedition cruise ships, including the M/V World Discoverer and the M/S Explorer. Both of those ships are no longer in existence. The Discoverer ran up on a reef in the Solomons in 2002, and was beached after passengers were disembarked onto rescue vessels; the ship was completely gutted by locals before salvage crews  could arrive. All the wonderful memorabilia, paintings, and furnishings – even the toilets – disappeared into the forest, never to be seen again. The Explorer, as you probably know, hit a large piece of submerged sea ice off the South Shetlands in 2007 and sank within a few hours. Fortunately, there were no injuries or loss of life in either incident.

But back to your question. In 1985, my husband and I were invited to join the team of naturalists and lecturers on expedition cruise ships operating in Antarctica, South America, and the South Pacific. This was a great privilege and, more importantly, a wonderful opportunity to learn from specialists in fields outside my expertise in ornithology. The lecture staff usually included an historian, a botanist, a geologist, and an expert in marine mammals. We were a close-knit group dedicated to the giving and sharing of knowledge. The shore landings offered unlimited opportunities to observe the flora and fauna first hand. Because we travelled by ship, we were able to observe a continuum of wildlife — how it ebbed and flowed, changed and differed from place to place. And so, for about thirteen austral summers, I was able to immerse myself in Chile, gleaning every bit of information from her great rainforests, deserts, seas and far-flung sovereignties.

What inspired you to write A Wildlife Guide to Chile?

There was an urgent need for a comprehensive and portable field guide to the wildlife of Chile. English language field guides — except for those covering the birds of Chile – even today are virtually non-existent, and Spanish language guides to the flora and fauna are generally unavailable in North America and Europe.

From the start, I envisioned a guide that would serve the needs of international visitors as well as Chilean readers. I felt it was important to introduce the Chilean names of species so the book could be used locally, both in schools and by native guides, and to include German and French species names for the benefit of European travellers. I also wanted the guide to be portable so as to fit in a back pack, and yet cover the common flora and fauna of mainland Chile and Chilean Antarctica, the Juan Fernandez Archipelago, Easter Island, and Islas San Felix y San Ambrosio. Good maps were also hard to obtain, so I spent the better part of a summer hand drawing the regional maps from old, and sometimes inaccurate, relief and political maps collected during my travels.

Chile’s wildlife is less-documented than some other regions. Which was the most difficult taxonomic group to cover?

Probably the most difficult were the reptiles, amphibians and butterflies — none of which were marked for inclusion when I began the book. As I mentioned in the preface, only birds and mammals were to be covered. As the work developed, I felt that a brief chapter on the floral communities of Chile should be included. Like Topsy, the book just grew. The international community of scientists and colleagues were incredibly generous with their time and advice. I couldn’t have completed the book without their help.

How did you produce the illustrations?

My illustrations are based mainly on slides that I shot in Chile. Some images of species I had not seen or photographed were generously loaned to me by colleagues. I would select two or three pictures of each species, scan them into Adobe Photoshop, and then draw a composite from them on a touch-screen monitor. Later, I’d group the individual images together on a plate as dictated by the text. The last step would be to lay out the chapter, including text and plates, in Adobe InDesign. Needless to say, there were innumerable revisions over the five to six years it took to produce the guide.

You mention in your introduction that the work sprang partly from your field notebooks. Natural history is a subject that has always been closely associated with the travelling naturalist’s field notes – but this seems less common than it used to with people relying more on photos. Have you always been an avid note taker? What tips would you give to those needing a bit of inspiration to be more disciplined with their notebook?

I’m not a born note taker, but one could say that I was conscripted into the role. As junior member of the ship’s lecture team, I was usually assigned the task of keeping the bird list current and writing the expedition log. The latter was a document prepared for distribution to passengers at the end of the voyage. It was basically a daily compilation of the staff’s and lecture team’s notes and observations. In the end, I came to regard writing the log as a marvelous opportunity to organize my thoughts and solidify the day’s experiences in my mind. Many of the observations presented in “A Wildlife Guide to Chile” were taken from the expedition log books I prepared.

As for keeping a daily account of events, I feel the written log and photo journal are of equal value. In the case of a written log, it is more important to provide pithy rather than trite comments. For example, one can write, “ Nice day today! We had a great time and saw a lot of birds.” Or the entry could read, “Morning showers followed by light breezes, blue skies and sunshine. Our trip to the bayland marsh yielded views of 28 bird species, including a great blue heron attempting to swallow a big rat it had drowned in water of the incoming tide.”

If one is keeping a photo journal, one should faithfully record the date and place where the image was taken. In the case of photos of plants and animals, the English and scientific name of the subject should also be duly recorded. Photos should be culled to include only the best shots and placed in an album where captions can be written down adjacent to the images. You might also ask a friend to take a photo of yourself in situ as a remembrance of the day.

What is being done regarding conservation and sustainable management in Chile?

Several private and governmental organizations, both international and national, have been established to conserve the integrity and diversity of nature, and to ensure that any use of natural resources is equitable and ecologically sustainable. A lot of conservation funding and efforts come from organizations such the World Wildlife Fund and Nature Conservancy. There are also numerous individuals and philanthropists from Chile and abroad who have privately purchased large tracts of land, which they intend to eventually turn over to the Chilean government for use as national parks or nature reserves.

In addition, the IUCN (International Union for the Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources) has a strong presence in Chile, providing scientists and experts to help prepare and implement national conservation and biodiversity strategies. The IUCN  works closely with the Chilean National Forestry Service, CONAF (Corporación Nacional Forestal), which manages the national parks, reserves and monuments. Other Chilean conservation organizations that actively support and work toward sustainable land use include the CEA (Centro de Estudios Agrarios y Ambientales); CODEFF (Comite Nacional pro Defensa de la Fauna y Flora); Fondo de las Americas, Chile; TERRAM (Fundación para la Promocion del Desarrollo Sustentable); and ONG Terra Australis para la Conservación de la Naturaleza.

What is your favourite place in Chile and why?

I find it difficult to name a single place as my favourite. Certainly Lauca National Park in the High Andes of northern Chile and Torres del Paine National Park in the south rank in the Top Ten. These parks harbor vast reservoirs of rare and endangered plants, birds, and mammals that live amidst incomparable scenic beauty.

Other personal favourites include the Salar de Atacama, the island of Chiloe, the Lake District in Los Lagos, the incredibly rich pelagic zone of the Humboldt Current, Easter Island, the Beagle Channel, Cape Horn, and the icy reaches of Antarctica. Each of these places has a distinct personality engendered by latitude, altitude, climate, and biological diversity.

If I were planning a two week trip to try and see the most possible wildlife in two weeks, what would be the best time of year to visit?

Austral summer (November to February) is the optimal period for nature enthusiasts to visit Chile. There are some exceptions, however. The High Andes of northern Chile, including Lauca National Park, experience the “Altiplano Winter” in December and January, and snow or freezing rain are common on many days in this time period. The Flowering Desert is in maximum bloom from September to early October – and then only in years when rain falls on the parched earth.

You really have to pick the time with an eye toward your interest. If you want to visit the penguin colonies in Chilean Antarctica, it is useful to know that most penguin chicks are hatched in late December. Check out the itineraries offered by travel companies that specialize in birding, botanical or general wildlife tours. Reliable ecotour operators can arrange guided tours for independent travelers and will advise you on the best times to travel.

Any tips for getting the best from Chile’s wildlife?

Travel with a knowledgeable guide and follow their recommendations. Ecotour companies that specialize in wildlife travel and photography normally provide excellent international experts and local guides for their groups. Local guides can also be found at most Chilean lodges and national parks.

Carry along a small pair of binoculars and a good field guide. Consider leaving the book behind as a gift for a local school or local guide who has shown interest and provided insight.

Buen viaje!

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