Tag: In The Field

Wilder Canada Action Plan: From Vision to Action

The Wilder Canada Action Plan is about making sure no species falls through the cracks.

Across Canada, many conservation efforts focus on habitat protection and reducing threats. That work is essential. But some species need more — direct, hands-on intervention to survive.

That’s where our work begins.

Over the past year, the focus has been on three things: building the foundation to support that kind of action, developing a national framework to direct action where it’s needed most, and ensuring that our efforts are both effective and inclusive.

Much of this work happens before anything is visible on the ground.

A key part of the process has been narrowing focus. In Canada, there are more than 600 species listed under the Species at Risk Act, with nearly 300 identified as potential priorities for conservation translocation action. From that starting point, the team has worked through multiple stages to identify a smaller group of species representing the strongest opportunities for effective conservation translocation action.

It’s detailed, methodical work, but an important part of prioritizing where and how we grow our conservation impact in Canada. The process is working. We’re beginning to see where meaningful progress can happen over the next few years. At the same time, the work has extended far beyond data.

Across the country, new relationships are forming as we connect with Indigenous and local communities, governments, other conservation organizations, and researchers, often in areas where our organization has not traditionally been involved. Freshwater fish, mussels, plants, and other underrepresented species have become part of the conversation. It’s been both enriching and humbling.

Bringing together diverse groups and knowledge systems takes time. It requires listening, flexibility, and a willingness to approach conservation in new ways. It’s not always simple, but that depth is what makes the work stronger.

Some of the most meaningful moments have come from being in communities. Time spent listening, learning, and engaging directly with community members has reinforced that conservation is not only about species, but about the systems they exist within. The land, the water, and the people connected to them all shape the outcome. That perspective is central to the Wilder Canada Action Plan.

It’s an approach grounded in inclusive conservation — creating space for a wider diversity of people and organizations to participate, lead, and contribute to conservation work. Strengthening capacity through shared tools, knowledge, and networks is essential if this work is going to grow. We won’t be successful if we do it alone.

It’s not always the most visible work, but it’s what allows everything else to take shape.

Looking ahead, that foundation will continue to grow.

Plans are underway to launch a national grant stream, the Wilder Impact Fund, designed to amplify and empower community-led wildlife conservation initiatives across Canada. At the same time, the next wave of programs is beginning to take shape, guided by our species prioritization process and the relationships built over the past year.

It’s still early, but the direction is clear.

What began as a plan is becoming something tangible, rooted in collaboration, shaped by community, and designed to implement conservation action where it’s needed most.

And while much of the work may happen quietly, its impact is already making noise.

There are different types of translocations, including:

  • Wild-to-wild
  • Head-starting
  • Conservation breeding or propagation with reintroduction — raising plants or animals under human care to boost wild populations.

The Kinship Program: Wildlife, People, and Place

It really started with conversations. In the early days of the Kinship Program, my role was to spend time listening, learning from Magnetawan First Nation staff and community members about the work that has already been happening for years, to begin to understand where the community wants to go next. From there, it was about exploring how we could support that work in a way that feels respectful, collaborative, and grounded in trust.

Now, that vision is beginning to take shape.

One moment that has stayed with me happened in August last year, when we were invited to attend a turtle release and community ceremony. It was the first time the partnership was shared more formally with the community, but what stood out most to me was something quieter.

Community members made matching ribbon skirts for me and Nadine Perron, Environmental Management Biologist with Magnetawan First Nation. It was such a meaningful gesture, rooted in culture, and it really showed me that this is something the community values and wants to celebrate.

That sense of connection continues to guide the work.

A lot of what we’ve done this past year has involved spending time with community members, listening to their observations, their experiences on the land, and what matters most to them.

One of the clearest messages that has come through is that everything is connected.

Even though we’re starting with turtles, this work is about much more than a single species. It connects to the land, the water, and all living things.

Freshwater turtles are a powerful example of that connection. They play different roles at every stage of their lives. When they’re young, they’re low on the food web. As they grow, they help maintain wetland health by feeding on plant matter and animal remains. Even after they pass, their shells return nutrients to the environment.

They’re sometimes called the janitors of the wetland.

Despite having existed for over 250 million years, turtles are increasingly vulnerable today. They take a long time to mature, and very few make it into adulthood. The ones that do are incredibly important. When a turtle is lost, especially an adult female, the impact can extend across generations.

That’s why this work matters.

During nesting season, we focus on identifying nests laid in high-risk areas, like roadsides. Once a turtle has finished laying her eggs and returned to the water, the eggs are carefully collected and placed in controlled incubation environments. When the hatchlings emerge, they are released into safer wetlands where they have a better chance of survival.

It takes patience and care, but it can make a meaningful difference.

Support from donors has been essential in making this possible. It has allowed us to expand capacity within the community, bringing in additional team members during critical times like nesting season, and supporting flexible roles that make it easier for more people to be involved. That flexibility means we can respond to what is needed most, in ways that reflect the priorities of the community.

At the heart of this work is a concept called “Two-Eyed Seeing.” It’s about bringing together different ways of knowing, like Western & Indigenous science, and recognizing that both are equally valuable. That perspective is shaping how we move forward together.

For me, success isn’t just about the number of turtles. It’s about building something the community believes in and wants to be part of. When people feel connected to the land and the species, that’s when the impact really grows. .

This is still the beginning.

There is so much potential for this program to evolve over time, guided by the community and what’s needed most, as well as the support of donors like you. It has already been incredibly rewarding to be part of, and I’m excited to see where it goes next.

The team behind this work is much bigger than the people you see in the field. It includes community members, conservation staff, and supporters who all play a role in making this possible.

Thank you for being part of it.

Curiously Isolated Hairstreak: The Story of a Newly Recognized Species

When I first started working on what we thought was a regional population of halfmoon hairstreak in 2021, our team quickly realized there wasn’t a lot known about the butterfly.

We knew when and where it flew — between July and August on the Blakiston Fan in Waterton Lakes National Park — and that it was an isolated population. Beyond that, there were still major gaps in our understanding of its life history: we didn’t know what plant the larvae fed on, whether it had associations with ants (as many hairstreaks do), or why this population was so curiously isolated.

Working alongside a strong field team, we began piecing those answers together.

One of our first discoveries was that the Waterton hairstreak feeds on a different lupin and relies on a single ant species, unlike populations in British Columbia. Combined with the 450 km separating it from any other population, it was clear something didn’t line up.

So, we looked at the genetics.

When we ran the full genome analysis, everything came together. The data showed that this population had been isolated for around 40,000 years, surviving through multiple glacial periods without reconnecting with other populations.

At that point, it became clear this wasn’t just an isolated population or subspecies of the halfmoon hairstreak, but it was its own unique species, which we dubbed the curiously isolated hairstreak in 2025.

One of the most interesting discoveries was its relationship with ants. Unlike related species that partner with several ants, this hairstreak relies on just one — the Ponderosa meadow ant — which protects and shelters the caterpillars underground in exchange for nutrient-rich secretions. This level of specialization is remarkable, and often it’s easier to find the ants first, then the larvae sharing their habitat.

Despite having persisted for tens of thousands of years, this species is now considered Endangered. Its entire population exists within a single, small area, making it especially vulnerable. Invasive plants are reducing habitat quality, and any major natural disasters could have serious consequences.

That’s why the focus now is on strengthening the population. We’re monitoring habitat, managing invasive species, and beginning to bring individuals into human care so we can learn more and support future population growth.

For me, being part of this discovery has been incredibly exciting.

It’s rare to find a new species, and even more meaningful to be able to contribute to protecting it. There’s still a lot we don’t know, and that process of discovery is what drives this work forward.

This species has been here for thousands of years, largely unnoticed. Now that we know it’s here, we have the opportunity, and the responsibility, to make sure it continues. The site also plays a key role in preparing for the species’ future reintroduction into this historic range.

Kenya Mountain Bongo Program: Rooted in Community

The energy is unmistakable. Beneath a marquee tent at the Eburu Forest fire tower, overlooking the forest below, people are singing, dancing, and flipping through new bird guidebooks, pointing out species they know by heart. There is a sense of pride that is hard to describe.

“This is theirs,” I keep thinking. “They own this completely.”

The guidebook has just been launched, and for the Community Conservation Champions who created it, this moment has been a long time coming.

I have been working in Kenya for 14 years, and this work blends reintroduction science and community-based conservation. We are trying to recover the Critically Endangered mountain bongo, which has all but vanished from its former range and exist only in Kenya. If we cannot save them here, they are gone from the wild.

But the work does not start with the species. It starts with people.

Over time, I’ve learned that when you take the time to listen, everything changes. You are no longer trying to convince people. You are working alongside them.

During COVID, we started a Community Conservation Champions program. These were people who kept showing up, asking how they could help. They were not paid — they simply cared about the forest. With training and tools, they began leading their own work.

They formed two groups: one focused on medicinal plants, the other on birds. Month after month, they built on knowledge already present in the community but never captured in this way.

After a couple of years, they wanted to aim for something more: guidebooks.

The first, on medicinal plants, is now used in schools and shared locally. The bird group followed, producing a guide featuring 36 common species. Seeing them hold that book, it is clear this is about more than identification. It is about ownership and connection.

That connection is essential to the future of the mountain bongo. With fewer than 65 individuals left in the wild, nothing will work unless the people living alongside the forest support it.

That is why everything we do connects back to community — from employment and education to projects like the guidebooks — and extends to preparing for the bongo’s return.

In 2025, we reached a milestone with the approval of a 15-year lease for forest land on Mount Kenya, creating space for research and reintroduction while also working with community members to grow the plant species bongo rely on.

This work takes time and requires many voices to come together.

After years of effort, that collaboration is starting to show. The program is growing, and we are being asked for input and leadership.

That progress has been hard earned, and while it’s something to be proud of, it belongs to everyone who has been part of the journey — from community partners to those supporting the work along the way.

Each plays a role, and together, it’s what makes this kind of work possible.