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As a Conservation Biologist and Affiliate of the International League of Conservation Photographers (http://www.ilcp.com), I have the fortune of traveling to some incredible places. Through my photography I try to capture unique moments that tell a story. A powerful image transcends language and cultural boundaries. I strive to capture our connection to the natural world; the small things that we forget to stop and notice of; and provide a glimpse into worlds both foreign and strangely familiar. My collection of photos illustrate my view of these worlds.
My images have been recognized by the International Conservation Photography Awards and annual Conservation International photo awards, and have been featured in numerous publications, websites and broadcasts from National Geographic to the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN), MSNBC and CNN.
My images have been recognized by the International Conservation Photography Awards and annual Conservation International photo awards, and have been featured in numerous publications, websites and broadcasts from National Geographic to the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN), MSNBC and CNN.
Santa Marta, Colombia
The Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta is the highest coastal mountain formation in the world, rising from the azure waters of the Carribbean to snow-capped mountains at 19,000 feet. I know of nowhere else where you can stand in one place and see glaciers on one side and tropical ocean on the other.
Against this jaw-dropping backdrop exotic birds flutter through lush cloudforest and rare frogs bounce across a sun-specked carpet of leaflitter under gnarled trees. Many of these species are found here and nowhere else. For this reason, the Sierra Nevada was recently identified as the second highest priority site for urgent conservation action worldwide.
In early 2007 the habitat of these species was slated for conversion into vacation homes. We helped local and international partners to secure the area and create the El Dorado Reserve. The careful development of ecotourism in the reserve is now helping to generate revenue to pay locals to manage the park, as well as guides and cooks.
Protecting a 1,500 acre patch of forest is a small battle won in the war on environmental devastation. Driving along the coast surrounding Santa Marta it was alarming to see house upon house submerged in several feet of water from a recent flood. Occupants sat on high ground nearby, waiting.
The link between natural catastrophies and evironmental degradation is clearer than ever. It is in the interests of the people to protect their forest, a natural gem of which they should be proud. As more people pay vast sums of money to come and see exotic birds, it will become increasingly obvious that these forests are worth more intact than in pieces.
The Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta is the highest coastal mountain formation in the world, rising from the azure waters of the Carribbean to snow-capped mountains at 19,000 feet. I know of nowhere else where you can stand in one place and see glaciers on one side and tropical ocean on the other.
Against this jaw-dropping backdrop exotic birds flutter through lush cloudforest and rare frogs bounce across a sun-specked carpet of leaflitter under gnarled trees. Many of these species are found here and nowhere else. For this reason, the Sierra Nevada was recently identified as the second highest priority site for urgent conservation action worldwide.
In early 2007 the habitat of these species was slated for conversion into vacation homes. We helped local and international partners to secure the area and create the El Dorado Reserve. The careful development of ecotourism in the reserve is now helping to generate revenue to pay locals to manage the park, as well as guides and cooks.
Protecting a 1,500 acre patch of forest is a small battle won in the war on environmental devastation. Driving along the coast surrounding Santa Marta it was alarming to see house upon house submerged in several feet of water from a recent flood. Occupants sat on high ground nearby, waiting.
The link between natural catastrophies and evironmental degradation is clearer than ever. It is in the interests of the people to protect their forest, a natural gem of which they should be proud. As more people pay vast sums of money to come and see exotic birds, it will become increasingly obvious that these forests are worth more intact than in pieces.
Ecuador
Ecuador is truly a country of contrasts. You can travel from suffocating heat and humidity in the Amazon region to the thin cold air of the high Andes to tropical coast and beautiful beaches - in less than a day.
A few days in the Amazon region provided a glimpse of a life a million miles from mine. I got healed by a local healer, who used tobacco leaves to purge me of my negative aura. To celebrate, I drank Chi-cha, a locally made beverage. Only after a copule of large gulps did I learn from what it is made: chewed up pieces of yucca spat into a bucket and left to ferment for a few weeks. I won't be ordering that one again.
From the Amazon we scaled the crest of the Andes to descend into Quito, before embarking on a 10 hour drive south to Cuenca. Vertigo-inducing roads treated us to spectacular views of volcanoes, glaciers and mountains cloaked in a colourful patchwork of land carved up for agriculture.
Cuenca has a very European feel with quaint cobbled streets, impressive architecture and nice cafes, and I immediately warmed to it. However, a brief glimpse of the culture was all I was allowed before I was whisked off to the cold, inhospitable mountains in search of rare frogs.
Myself and companions from the Catolica University loaded up with three whole chickens, three loaves of bread and lots of chocolate and headed to a high elevation forest, where we would spend our first day and night in a refuge. Our mission for the next two day was to find two species of frog only known from one site. A bright green harlequin frog used to be so abundant at this forest site that you had to watch your step: the park guard who walks these trails every day hasn't seen one in twelve years.
We found a stream that offered perfect habitat for the frog and spent several hours clambering up slippery rocks and wading through plunge pools in search of the little creatures. Nothing. It felt as if we had come to document the extinction of this species. Knowing that these streams, which one were alive with small colorful frogs, are now all but empty felt pretty heart-wrenching.
As the light dimmed rapidly, we wearily made our way back to the refuge. In a last ditch effort, we decided to flip a few rocks on the way: and there, under the first one, sat a bright green little frog!!
We returned to the refuge happy, tired and cold. And I mean cold. Something about the thin, damp air and the wind makes the cold even more penetrating at these altitudes. It's hard to believe you are above the equator.
After a cold night spent trying to find the most thermally efficient position, we set of to Paramo of the Parque Nacional Cajas in search of a jet black harlequin frog. We took a six-hour "stroll" over rolling mountains above 4,000 m. I soon warmed up under my many layers of clothing – but the elevation made it pretty tough going. The views were absolutely spectacular, with shimmering lakes scattered in the foothills of impressively high mountains that stretched as far as the eye could see. On a clear day, you can stand on a mountain at 4,400 m and see the sea!
After three hours of hiking we learned that nobody had actually brought any food. I had, however, remembered to bring a bottle of rum. Supposedly it is a good remedy for altitude sickness – so I pulled it out and we drank. The hike back was tough going – I wasn't sure if the breathlessness, dizziness and pounding headache was a result of the altitude or the rum. Our attempts to rent a mule from passing locals failed miserably and we plodded on.
We didn't find the frog we had set out to find – but we did find a species we think may be new to science. So, while frogs continue to blink out of existence around the world, it is good to be reminded that there are still species out there of which we know nothing. Conservation isn't always depressing.
Ecuador is truly a country of contrasts. You can travel from suffocating heat and humidity in the Amazon region to the thin cold air of the high Andes to tropical coast and beautiful beaches - in less than a day.
A few days in the Amazon region provided a glimpse of a life a million miles from mine. I got healed by a local healer, who used tobacco leaves to purge me of my negative aura. To celebrate, I drank Chi-cha, a locally made beverage. Only after a copule of large gulps did I learn from what it is made: chewed up pieces of yucca spat into a bucket and left to ferment for a few weeks. I won't be ordering that one again.
From the Amazon we scaled the crest of the Andes to descend into Quito, before embarking on a 10 hour drive south to Cuenca. Vertigo-inducing roads treated us to spectacular views of volcanoes, glaciers and mountains cloaked in a colourful patchwork of land carved up for agriculture.
Cuenca has a very European feel with quaint cobbled streets, impressive architecture and nice cafes, and I immediately warmed to it. However, a brief glimpse of the culture was all I was allowed before I was whisked off to the cold, inhospitable mountains in search of rare frogs.
Myself and companions from the Catolica University loaded up with three whole chickens, three loaves of bread and lots of chocolate and headed to a high elevation forest, where we would spend our first day and night in a refuge. Our mission for the next two day was to find two species of frog only known from one site. A bright green harlequin frog used to be so abundant at this forest site that you had to watch your step: the park guard who walks these trails every day hasn't seen one in twelve years.
We found a stream that offered perfect habitat for the frog and spent several hours clambering up slippery rocks and wading through plunge pools in search of the little creatures. Nothing. It felt as if we had come to document the extinction of this species. Knowing that these streams, which one were alive with small colorful frogs, are now all but empty felt pretty heart-wrenching.
As the light dimmed rapidly, we wearily made our way back to the refuge. In a last ditch effort, we decided to flip a few rocks on the way: and there, under the first one, sat a bright green little frog!!
We returned to the refuge happy, tired and cold. And I mean cold. Something about the thin, damp air and the wind makes the cold even more penetrating at these altitudes. It's hard to believe you are above the equator.
After a cold night spent trying to find the most thermally efficient position, we set of to Paramo of the Parque Nacional Cajas in search of a jet black harlequin frog. We took a six-hour "stroll" over rolling mountains above 4,000 m. I soon warmed up under my many layers of clothing – but the elevation made it pretty tough going. The views were absolutely spectacular, with shimmering lakes scattered in the foothills of impressively high mountains that stretched as far as the eye could see. On a clear day, you can stand on a mountain at 4,400 m and see the sea!
After three hours of hiking we learned that nobody had actually brought any food. I had, however, remembered to bring a bottle of rum. Supposedly it is a good remedy for altitude sickness – so I pulled it out and we drank. The hike back was tough going – I wasn't sure if the breathlessness, dizziness and pounding headache was a result of the altitude or the rum. Our attempts to rent a mule from passing locals failed miserably and we plodded on.
We didn't find the frog we had set out to find – but we did find a species we think may be new to science. So, while frogs continue to blink out of existence around the world, it is good to be reminded that there are still species out there of which we know nothing. Conservation isn't always depressing.
Haiti
The Massif de la Hotte in the southwest of Haiti is home to a staggering 13 species of amphibians found nowhere else in the world. This exceptional level of threatened endemism resulted in the site's recent ranking as the number one global priority for urgent conservation action.
Since 2001, extreme poverty, political instability and suspension of all conservation programs threaten Haiti's rapidly diminishing forest, despite its exceptional importance for biodiversity. As Conservation International's amphibian conservation officer, I traveled to Haiti in February to meet with local partners - Phlippe Bayard of the Societe Audubon Haiti and Eladio Fernandez of the Sociedad Ornitológica Hispaniola - and familiarize myself with the areas of concern.
As I left the bustling capital Port Au Prince and traveled the length of the southern Peninsula, I could feel any sense of optimism evaporate as barren hillsides completely stripped of trees filled the landscape, where people living in abject poverty eked out a living in any way they could.
Many long hours on rocky, bone-jarring roads and six flat tires later I was treated to the sight of the Massif de la Hotte; home to the last intact broadleaf forest on Haiti. Macaya Biosphere Reserve, encompassing 5,500 hectares at the core of the Massif, provides a refuge for diverse forested habitat ranging from wet limestone forest at lower elevations to a complex mosaic of pine and cloud forest at upper elevations. An invigorating hike from 1000 m elevation to Pic Formond, at around 2200 m, confirmed that the forest is still teeming with life. Trees dripping with bromeliads in the cloud forest provided homes for an extraordinary abundance of frogs and the calls of Bicknell's Thrush provided a thrill for the ornithologists in the group.
Despite its status, Macaya Biosphere Reserve is not immune from the degradation that has ravaged the rest of Haiti. The forest is threatened by agricultural expansion into increasingly unsuitable terrain. Major tree cover was lost in Haiti when mangoes and coffee – both environmentally important tree crops - became unprofitable and were cut down in favor of marginally profitable annual crops. In addition, park agents are losing their authority, credibility and motivation to protect the forest because most have not been paid by the government for over two years.
Environmental protection in this area is at a critical juncture. We are currently exploring ways in which we can affect a shift in emphasis away from intensive forestry and unsustainable agriculture towards preserving remnant forest, with tangible and lasting benefits to the local community. Developing incentives for local farmers to re-invest in tree-crops such as shade-grown coffee, cacao and mango all appear promising options.
The International community is hesitant to engage Haiti because the risks are too high. The real question should be; can we risk not to?
The Massif de la Hotte in the southwest of Haiti is home to a staggering 13 species of amphibians found nowhere else in the world. This exceptional level of threatened endemism resulted in the site's recent ranking as the number one global priority for urgent conservation action.
Since 2001, extreme poverty, political instability and suspension of all conservation programs threaten Haiti's rapidly diminishing forest, despite its exceptional importance for biodiversity. As Conservation International's amphibian conservation officer, I traveled to Haiti in February to meet with local partners - Phlippe Bayard of the Societe Audubon Haiti and Eladio Fernandez of the Sociedad Ornitológica Hispaniola - and familiarize myself with the areas of concern.
As I left the bustling capital Port Au Prince and traveled the length of the southern Peninsula, I could feel any sense of optimism evaporate as barren hillsides completely stripped of trees filled the landscape, where people living in abject poverty eked out a living in any way they could.
Many long hours on rocky, bone-jarring roads and six flat tires later I was treated to the sight of the Massif de la Hotte; home to the last intact broadleaf forest on Haiti. Macaya Biosphere Reserve, encompassing 5,500 hectares at the core of the Massif, provides a refuge for diverse forested habitat ranging from wet limestone forest at lower elevations to a complex mosaic of pine and cloud forest at upper elevations. An invigorating hike from 1000 m elevation to Pic Formond, at around 2200 m, confirmed that the forest is still teeming with life. Trees dripping with bromeliads in the cloud forest provided homes for an extraordinary abundance of frogs and the calls of Bicknell's Thrush provided a thrill for the ornithologists in the group.
Despite its status, Macaya Biosphere Reserve is not immune from the degradation that has ravaged the rest of Haiti. The forest is threatened by agricultural expansion into increasingly unsuitable terrain. Major tree cover was lost in Haiti when mangoes and coffee – both environmentally important tree crops - became unprofitable and were cut down in favor of marginally profitable annual crops. In addition, park agents are losing their authority, credibility and motivation to protect the forest because most have not been paid by the government for over two years.
Environmental protection in this area is at a critical juncture. We are currently exploring ways in which we can affect a shift in emphasis away from intensive forestry and unsustainable agriculture towards preserving remnant forest, with tangible and lasting benefits to the local community. Developing incentives for local farmers to re-invest in tree-crops such as shade-grown coffee, cacao and mango all appear promising options.
The International community is hesitant to engage Haiti because the risks are too high. The real question should be; can we risk not to?
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