The guardians of the Amazon who work without pay—and without fear

worldrfnews on July 7, 2025

In a corner of the rainforest where Colombia meets Peru and Brazil, the hum of chainsaws and gunfire never quite dies. Yet in the shadows of this long emergency, a sublter resistance endures. Its front line is not marked by barricades or armed patrols, but by walking sticks carved from peach palm and a deep, unshakable intimacy with the land, reports Daniela Quintero Díaz.

Luis Alfredo Acosta has walked this path for 35 years. A member of the Nasa people and national coordinator of the Indigenous guard under the National Indigenous Organization of Colombia (ONIC), he speaks with clarity shaped by decades of witnessing promises deferred and communities displaced.

“Although these appear to be isolated things… it really is an integral resistance,” he said. “Because at its core, all of this only works if there is land.”

In Colombia’s Amazon region, “resistance” is neither metaphor nor battle cry. It is physical: Guarding against armed groups, illegal loggers, and narcotraffickers. It is intellectual: Preserving ancestral knowledge and mapping sacred sites. It is spiritual: Sustained through rituals and the use of yagé. And it is cultural: Enacted in daily life through small farms, seed banks, and forest patrols.

That these efforts persist amid violence is remarkable. Of the 1,411 human rights defenders killed in Colombia over the past decade, at least 70 were Indigenous guards. In many areas, the state has withdrawn: 11 protected zones in the Amazon are now inaccessible to park rangers due to armed conflict. Yet forests within Indigenous territories remain largely intact, with 98% cover — a fact both defiant and tragic.

The guards, often unpaid, rely on collective will more than resources. In Putumayo, the Siona community has removed mines and monitored vast forest tracts. In Guainía, fishers have transformed kitchens into labs, contributing to national fishery policies. In Amazonas, communities reforest thousands of hectares using knowledge handed down through generations.

The state’s support has been halting. President Petro’s National Development Plan pledged to strengthen Indigenous guardianship, but funding has been piecemeal. For guards like Olegario Sánchez of the Tikuna, even basics like radios or canoes are scarce.

“If we leave the territory,” a Siona guard warned, “we get closer to dying. If a root dies, its essence dies. And the principle of a community dies.”

In the Amazon, the forest still stands. But its fate — and that of its guardians — hangs in the balance.

How one woman rose from porter to conservation leader

worldrfnews on June 28, 2025

In the damp undergrowth of Cameroon’s Lobéké National Park, where forest elephants slip through the forest unheard and gorillas emerge with the dusk, one woman charts a course both personal and profound.

Marlyse Bebeguewa was once just a name on the roster of porters, hauling gear for others. Today, she is at the forefront of conservation in one of Central Africa’s richest but least accessible protected areas, report David Akana and Yannick Kenné.

Born in 1987 into a Bantu family, Bebeguewa was raised by her mother after her father died assisting scientists in the forest. Financial hardship forced her to leave school early. But rather than succumb to circumstance, she followed a trail—both literal and metaphorical—blazed by her father. At 18, she took a job as a porter. A year later, she trained as a guide. By 2014, when Lobéké’s management sought ecological monitoring assistants, she was the only woman selected—and promptly made team leader.

Her rise, achieved without formal education beyond secondary school, reflects the latent capacity often overlooked in local communities. It is also an implicit rebuke to a conservation model that has historically marginalized Indigenous and local actors, especially women.

Now a consultant with WWF, Bebeguewa uses acoustic sensors and camera traps to track endangered species and detect threats, merging new technology with on-the-ground knowledge. She mentors other women and works to bridge divides between Bantu and Baka communities—relationships that remain fraught in a region marked by deep inequities.

Yet the barriers she confronts are not just cultural or gendered. Lobéké remains chronically underfunded, difficult to reach, and underutilized as a tourism asset.
“We need more communication tools,” she says, referring to the basic radios shared among teams.

Still, Bebeguewa endures. Her work is both an act of remembrance and an investment in the future. She has built a home, educated her children, and dreams of a day when her descendants might take up the same cause.
“Even if I’m no longer working there someday, I hope my children or grandchildren will continue in this field.”

Conservation, for her, is not an abstract endeavor. It is daily, physical, communal.

And it begins, as hers did, with the simple act of showing up.

Camera traps and Indigenous knowledge help confirm presence of ‘lost’ echidna species

worldrfnews on June 21, 2025

Thought extinct for over six decades, Attenborough’s long-beaked echidna—a spiny, egg-laying mammal known locally as payangko—has made a dramatic return to science.

Captured on camera traps deployed between 2022 and 2023 in Indonesia’s Cyclops Mountains on the island of New Guinea, the elusive monotreme was last scientifically documented in 1961, when a lone specimen was collected.

A recent study confirms the findings, which stemmed from a collaboration between researchers, Indigenous communities, and local agencies, reports Kristine Sabillo Guerrero.

Named after the famed naturalist David Attenborough, Zaglossus attenboroughi is one of five extant monotreme species and is listed as critically endangered. The new evidence—110 photographs and 15 videos—includes signs of possible courtship behavior, a promising signal for its continued survival.

“Encouraging evidence that the population is breeding,” noted co-author James Kempton of the University of Oxford.

The study underscores the central role of Indigenous knowledge in the discovery.

“We would not have succeeded without their support and input,” said Malcolm Kobak of YAPPENDA, a local NGO.

With funding and research limited in Indonesian New Guinea, the authors hope this rediscovery spurs conservation action—and a deeper recognition of the value of local stewardship and knowledge.

No contact, no conflict: Protecting South America’s invisible peoples

worldrfnews on June 20, 2025

In Brazil and across the Amazon Basin, a growing body of evidence confirms what many Indigenous communities have long known: hundreds of voluntarily isolated Indigenous groups continue to live deep in the forest, avoiding contact with the outside world. But for decades, their existence was denied or ignored by states, leaving them legally invisible and their lands open to extraction, deforestation, and exploitation.

That is slowly changing. A new 302-page report—launched in April 2025 at the U.N. Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues—offers a scientific framework for recognizing these groups without violating their autonomy.

Antenor Vaz, a veteran expert on isolated and initially contacted peoples (PIACI) who recently spoke with Aimee Gabay, co-authored the report with input from national Indigenous organizations such as AIDESEP in Peru. It catalogs 188 records of voluntarily isolated peoples in South America—yet just 60 are officially recognized by states.

Recognition matters. Without legal recognition, Indigenous peoples have no claim to territory, protections, or voice.

As Vaz puts it: “They have no rights because they do not exist for the state.”

Denial, he warns, is often politically motivated: once land is acknowledged as inhabited, it must be protected. That complicates plans for agribusiness, mining, and logging.

The report outlines both “direct” and “indirect” methodologies for evidence-gathering—from satellite imagery and field expeditions to local Indigenous knowledge. While states tend to privilege Western scientific methods, Vaz stresses that Indigenous trackers and shamans often provide the most accurate data. Their knowledge, he argues, is holistic, drawing on spiritual and ecological cues beyond the grasp of many Western institutions.

The implications go beyond Indigenous rights. Isolated peoples are entirely dependent on intact ecosystems. Their continued survival requires forests to remain undisturbed, making them natural stewards of biodiversity.

“For isolated peoples,” Vaz notes, “the forest is their pharmacy, supermarket, school, and city.”

Protecting their land helps protect the Amazon—and, by extension, global climate stability.

The report offers 11 core principles, including the foundational rule: No contact. That principle, enshrined in Brazil’s 1988 Constitution, has become a model for others.

As states weigh economic growth against Indigenous survival, Vaz says this document serves as a guide for navigating that fraught terrain—scientifically, ethically, and lawfully.

The Ugandan botanists climbing to save Africa’s forests

worldrfnews on June 5, 2025

In the quest to restore Africa’s threatened forests, seed collectors are learning to ascend towering trees, sometimes over 50 meters tall, to gather the perfect seeds, reports Ruth Kamnitzer. This method is not only an art but a necessity in a world where many native tree species face extinction.

Sebastian walaita javan, curator at Tooro Botanical Gardens in Uganda, has spent over 25 years perfecting the technique of high tree climbing to collect seeds, teaching others to follow in his footsteps. In a team of three, climbers use ropes, harnesses, and spurs to scale massive trees, collecting mature seeds from the canopy before returning to the ground. The practice is integral to the African Forest Landscape Restoration Initiative (AFR100), which aims to restore 100 million hectares of land by 2030.

Native species are critical to maintaining biodiversity, but collecting their seeds is not without challenges. Walaita explains that seeds found on the ground are often too old, contaminated, or too immature to germinate. Climbing the trees is the only way to access the healthiest seeds at the right time—seeds that could hold the key to preserving endangered species. Yet, many local botanists struggle to reach high branches without proper training or equipment.

In September 2024, Walaita took his skills to Côte d’Ivoire, where he trained Ivorian botanists on how to safely harvest seeds from tall trees for reforestation efforts, focusing on native species. This is part of a wider movement to shift from planting non-native species like teak to those that are indigenous, more suited to the local ecosystem, and crucial for long-term restoration.

As reforestation efforts grow, so does the need for safe, sustainable ways to collect seeds and promote biodiversity. With the right training the next generation of tree climbers may have the tools to restore the forests that sustain Africa’s wildlife and people.

First-ever photo of clouded leopard eating a slow loris captured in India

worldrfnews on June 3, 2025

In December 2024, a camera trap deep in Assam’s Dehing Patkai National Park recorded something never before seen: a clouded leopard carrying a Bengal slow loris in its jaws. The image, shared widely on social media by Assam’s Forest Minister, made waves in conservation circles—and not just for its novelty. It provides the first photographic evidence of this predator-prey interaction, offering vital insights into the diet of a notoriously elusive cat, reports Nabarun Guha.

Both species are nocturnal and arboreal, rendering direct observation almost impossible. “This finding contributes to our understanding of predatory behavior and diet,” said Bilal Habib of the Wildlife Institute of India, which led the study. Clouded leopards are believed to prey on a wide range of animals, but hard data in the Indian context has been sparse.

Dehing Patkai is India’s only protected area known to shelter eight wild cat species. That a single photo captured two of its shyest residents highlights the park’s ecological richness—and the importance of ongoing conservation efforts. As forests shrink and threats rise, such glimpses into the lives of hidden species become both rarer and more crucial.