Where the wild beings are

I am a sheepherder in Lessinia, the mountains north of Verona, Italy. When the wolf arrived in this area, many ranchers saw lead as the solution. But we don’t believe in this approach, because it’s the same thinking that has led humans to destroy half the planet. Instead, we work to implement solutions to successfully manage coexistence between us, the herds, the wolf, and the environment that supports us all. These solutions are more complex and challenging because we have to be here in the pastures with the flocks, have the dogs constantly with us, and always move alongside them. Our presence is crucial. Once, wolves came near our flock, but when they saw the dogs and us, they turned back. You have to truly love this work, want to spend time with the sheep during the day, and to love the land you live in, not just try to exploit it. The choice is straightforward: to live and share with nature or try to conquer it.

When I was young here in the Po Valley in Italy, the kestrel falcon was not around. It arrived only a few years ago, moving further north due to the excessive summer heat in Southern Italy. When researchers asked if I would be willing to install boxes in my farm to facilitate the nesting of this bird of prey, I didn't hesitate. I was happy to help protect an endangered species that had recently arrived in these lands. Now, there are more than ten kestrel couples on my land. And I now consider the kestrel falcon part of my farm. They’re like friends and also useful, as they feed on crickets and insects. Also, they make this farm feel more alive, colourful and diverse in terms of the species that inhabit it.

I am a beekeeper in the Anzer plateau in Turkey, where one of the finest varieties of honey in the world is produced. Our country, however, is not only home to industrious honey bees but also one of the largest bear populations in the entire Europe and Middle East, comprising more than 3,000 individuals. As we all know, bears love honey. Proximity to humans has made many of them bold enough to steal honey from our artisanal facilities. After trying extenuating strategies to keep them away - each time being outsmarted by the clever, strong and highly motivated young bears - I decided to take advantage of the situation. I set a table for the next bear visitor: I placed different types of honey in bowls and filmed the bears’ taste tests over several nights. They consistently chose Anzer honey, my finest product. Seeing these results made me forget the damages of the previous months. I started to appreciate the bears, finding a win-win collaboration for my business and their palate.

When I was a child, my father and I would go into the woods to hunt small birds for my parents’ restaurant. Roasted and served with polenta, these birds are a real delicacy and a traditional dish in my region, Lombardy; this recipe is common in the mountainous areas of northern Italy. We hunted small bird species such as woodcocks, larks, thrushes and robins, using different types of traps to catch them. These outings were moments of real joy and bonding between the older and younger generations. However, everything changed in 1992, when the European Union introduced the Birds Directive, which sanctioned almost all these traditional activities in order to protect biodiversity. It was no longer possible to serve polenta e osei in our family restaurant. We did not agree with this regulation, which unfairly banned one of the most cherished food traditions in our culture. So, we went undercover. Today, my father still takes my son with him to pass on this family tradition. The difference now is that they don’t call him ‘grandfather taking grandson hunting’ - they call him a poacher.

The research foundation I direct owns a large wetland in the Camargue, in southern France, where we carry out research, conservation, and integrated wetland management projects in several protected areas. Through our work, we aim to study this unique environment and its species to improve its protection and management. We do not want to reduce or restrict human activities in the wetlands. Rather, we seek solutions that make it possible to both use the wetlands and promote biodiversity. This is the only way to benefit both local communities and the diverse populations of wild animals and plants. Today, people have lost their connection to biodiversity and nature in general, with little awareness of their importance for our well-being. But that is precisely why it is important to protect and conserve it. And this is why we are committed to sharing this knowledge with the public and policymakers, to promote science-based decisions in environmental management and protection.

How does it feel to know that you are the custodian of an ancient and dying traditional fishing technique, and that your livelihood depends entirely on a species that has been listed as ‘critically endangered’? It’s terrifying. For communities like mine, living in the Po Delta, traditional eel fishing was not only a fundamental means of subsistence, but also a thriving international business. Over the decades, however, catches have plummeted. The main cause of this decline is overfishing, which particularly affects young eels before they can reproduce. Today, however, the main threat to the species is its rarity, which has led to soaring prices and, consequently, to a rapid growth in illegal markets. This also affects us ‘legal’ fishers: we want to see eel populations recover because we depend on them for our livelihoods. But at the same time, we are being pushed to overexploit the local eel population because we can’t just stand by and watch poachers steal our source of income.

“In 20 or 30 years, when I will talk to my two nieces and show them the beauty of our country and of this continent, and they ask me: ‘What did you do when everything was at stake?’ I want to be able to tell them: ‘I tried to support them as much as I could’.” This is what prompted Gewessler, the Austrian Environment Minister, to disobey the Austrian Chancellor, and vote in favour of the Nature Restoration Law at the EU Council on 17 June 2024. Gewessler’s vote was crucial as the Law was on the brink of failure due to the strong opposition from the European People’s Party and six member States. Austria had decided to abstain, before its rebellious Environment Minister decided to vote based on her own conscience.

Our territory, the Cilento region in Southern Italy, has always been renowned for its natural prosperity. In 1991, the Italian State recognised this richness and created the National Park to study and preserve it. We inhabitants are fond of our land, and it is hard to see it deteriorating due to climate change and human impact. One of our main concerns nowadays is the rapidly increasing population of wild boars, which are literally invading the Park and making coexistence difficult. That is why I decided to undergo scientific training to become a certified selected hunter of wild boars. We learned to identify the sex, age, and social role of the individual, to select the animals to be culled without disturbing the social relationships of the group, and to effectively manage the post-hunting handling of the carcasses. For me, this is more than hunting; it is a way of contributing to maintain the beauty of my land unaltered.

There are 7 million hunters in Europe. With a few exceptions, the common perception that hunters don’t love nature and pose a threat to it is wrong. Most hunters love animals and care about nature, of which they often have a deep knowledge. As a lobbyist for the European Federation for Hunting and Conservation, I make sure that the voices of these 7 million people are heard by the leaders of the European Union and that the misrepresentation of this ancient cultural practice is corrected. Indeed, European hunters contribute to the EU’s wildlife and ecosystem conservation objectives, for example by controlling the demographic fluctuations of ungulates such as wild boar and deer, whose populations have increased excessively in recent years. On the other hand, we ensure compliance with EU’s Directives on protected species, and one of our main tools is education: we ensure that hunters across Europe are able to identify protected species and avoid hampering conservation efforts.

I have felt a connection to non-human animals for as long as I can remember. I have always wanted to make that connection something real, and when I first heard of ‘sanctuaries’ for wild animals in need, I knew that volunteering there was my call. Rescuing injured animals, caring for them for days, sometimes for months, following their own pace of life and recovery, is as difficult as it is wonderful. One of the most common questions asked of us volunteers is: “Aren’t you sad to be releasing them back into the wild?”. Actually, opening the cage and releasing the animal you have cared for is perhaps the most rewarding moment of our work. It means that our commitment and effort has not been in vain. For us, each rescued animal is not just skin and bones, a representative of a species, but a unique individual with its own personality, its own history, experiences and emotions. That is why we take care of them all, no matter how invasive, or common, or endangered their population or species might be. They are, first and foremost, beings with lives worth living in their own right.

These mountains are ours; my family has lived in this valley for generations. We have always been here. My grandfather tended this herd before me, and his father before him. Now it’s my responsibility, the work I grew up with, and my livelihood. But with the arrival of bears and wolves, everything has changed. The pastures and mountain meadows where I take my animals are no longer safe. How can I bring my herd to pasture when wolves and bears roam the valley free and unmonitored? I cannot leave my cows unattended, but even if I’m with them, I certainly can’t protect them on my own. And who will protect me? The only solution I can see is using guard dogs, but I’ve had to figure this out on my own. No one has offered me a course to train them, provided the dogs, or given me any subsidies to buy them. No one has helped me understand how to live alongside wolves and bears.

As a ranger, I am not taking sides - neither for the bear nor for those who do not want it here. We are civil servants, whose job is to apply the law as accurately and respectfully as possible. If there is evidence of a really dangerous bear, what are we waiting for - a fatal accident? Sacrificing an animal doesn’t harm the entire bear population in the area, but it does make people feel protected and reassures them that authorities will intervene when a bear poses a real threat. When the laws are unclear or contradictory, it becomes impossible to act effectively, either for the bear’s protection or for the mountain community’s safety. This leaves us feeling powerless.

I have always enjoyed working in the field, being outdoors, and observing the animals and plants that live there. That is why I started studying biology and then pursued research in conservation biology. A conservation plan aims to protect or reintroduce animal or plant species into an environment. But it’s not only about preserving wild species and ecosystems; it's also about the people, their activities, and the local communities that share those environments. Reintroducing or protecting a wild species inevitably affects local people. Such a project changes the balance of an environment, with humans and animals potentially competing for the same resources, or leading to reduced space for activities like fishing or timber production. That is why each conservation project is unique and must involve the local community. Only in this way can we ensure a long-lasting and successful impact. That is my job - to find the best ways for humans and nature to coexist.

The Faroe Islands, where I live, are remote and difficult to reach. The climate is harsh, and we have always lived on what nature has to offer. For centuries, our main source of meat has been the Grindadráp, the great whale hunt that takes place in June. The entire island is called upon to participate in this activity, which involves everyone - from men in the boats pushing the whales ashore to those killing them on the beach. The meat is then distributed among the community according to each person's needs. While this practice is brutal, it is not only a fundamental part of our diet, but it is also central to our culture and our identity - it is who we are and have always been. But then it was discovered that the meat of the pilot whales we hunt has very high levels of contaminants, including mercury and other contaminants, like PFAS. These substances are very harmful to our health, and we should be eating less and less of it, maybe eliminating it. If we stop hunting pilot whales, we will become totally dependent on imported food by sea or air. What will happen to our identity then?

The institute where I work is renowned for its research on marine and freshwater in Icelandic territories, seas, and the Arctic. We also provide scientific advice to the Icelandic Ministry of Food, Agriculture and Fisheries on sustainable fisheries. The fishing industry accounts for 8.3% of Iceland's GDP and is one of the pillars of our economy. Thus, managing fish stocks is not only an environmental responsibility but also a duty to our citizens. Together with the Ministry, the Directorate of Fisheries, and the Fishers’ Association, we are committed to achieving sustainable use of the sea. Our strategy is constantly being refined and involves extensive research, effective monitoring of catches, and species-specific catch shares and restrictions. This requires a lot of work and control, as every catch from each vessel is weighed and monitored. Not all fishers are pleased with this strategy, but it is the only way to prevent overfishing and ensure the sustainable use of our seas now and in the future.