Meet The Cover Conservationist is a recurring SEVENSEAS feature that spotlights inspiring and influential people working at the forefront of ocean conservation.

Beyond the research papers, campaigns, and headlines, this series offers a more personal look at the people behind the work, exploring what drives them, challenges them, and keeps them hopeful for the future of our ocean. If there’s a conservationist you’d love to see featured on a future cover, we invite you to submit a short nomination (around 250 words) to info@sevenseasmedia.org. We receive many outstanding submissions, and while not all can be selected for publication, each is carefully considered.

Below you’ll find the merciless interrogation designed to give readers insight into our conservationist’s professional journey and the human side of life in ocean conservation. We only ask fearlessly candid, no-holds-barred questions, so get ready for a brutally honest, nail-biting interview.

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1. To get our readers acquainted, why don’t you tell us just a little about yourself, what motivates you and what you are working on.

Jacqueline: I’m a second-year master’s degree student in the University of Rhode Island’s Graduate School of Oceanography. My research focuses on water quality and aquaculture, specifically investigating how water quality and gear type affect oyster growth in Narragansett Bay, Rhode Island. This work is driven by my interest to collaborate with oyster farmers and conduct research that benefits the aquaculture industry.

2. What was the moment or influence that first pulled you toward ocean conservation? Tell us about that.

Jacqueline: During college, I spent a summer along the coast of Maine assisting with lobster and scallop research projects. That experience showed me how closely science, industry, and coastal communities are connected. Working on the waterfront and interacting directly with fishermen helped me see that ocean conservation isn’t just about ecosystems; it’s also about supporting the people and livelihoods that depend on them.

3. Was there a specific place, species, experience, mentor, job, or challenge that shaped your career path?

Jacqueline: My first job after earning my bachelor’s degree was on Catalina Island, California, where I worked as a marine science instructor. It was a dynamic, adventurous, and rewarding job, one that continues to impact me today. I learned how to be an educator, communicate science, adapt quickly, and find the fun in challenging moments.

4. How do science and storytelling intersect in your work?

Jacqueline: The water quality dataset from my project helps oyster farmers understand seasonal trends in Narragansett Bay. By pairing quantitative data with observations from oyster farmers, we can tell a more complete story about what works, guide future research, and strengthen Rhode Island’s aquaculture industry through collaboration.

5. What’s one misconception people often have about your field?

Jacqueline: One common misconception people have about oceanography is that it entails just being out on a boat conducting field work. A lot of the work happens behind a computer, analyzing data, writing, securing funding, and collaborating across disciplines. It’s an ever-changing balance of field, lab, and desk work.

6. What part of your work feels most urgent today?

Jacqueline: Continued collaboration feels especially urgent, specifically uplifting the voices of industry members, such as oyster farmers, to identify research questions that are most relevant and impactful.

7. What achievement are you most proud of, even if few people know about it?

Jacqueline: I decided to apply to graduate school nine years after earning my undergraduate degree. Leaving the workforce and returning to student life was a big shift, and I’m proud to have taken that step. While I’m older than many of my peers, I wouldn’t change my timeline. Professional (and personal) growth isn’t linear, and there are infinite ways to get to where you want to go.

8. What keeps you going when conservation feels overwhelming?

Jacqueline: Being in graduate school, I’m surrounded by a large community of people who are deeply motivated. Being surrounded by that energy and commitment helps me stay focused, and reminds me that change is possible, even when progress feels slow.

9. What’s something the public rarely sees about how conservation really works?

Jacqueline: One thing the public rarely sees is just how complex and unpredictable conservation science can be. There are countless variables, including weather, mechanical issues, staffing, and funding, that we navigate every day. Carrying out research often means constantly adjusting and getting creative.

10. What’s one hard truth about ocean conservation we need to face?

Jacqueline: Climate change and environmental stressors disproportionately impact marginalized and coastal communities. Their voices and needs are often overlooked, yet they are on the frontlines of these challenges. Effective conservation requires listening to these communities, gathering their perspectives, and developing real solutions that will protect future generations.

11. What advice would you give your younger self entering this field?

Jacqueline: Everyone around you has something to teach you. Take the time to listen, ask questions, and build genuine connections.

12. Where do you realistically hope your work will be in 5 to 10 years?

Jacqueline: While my master’s research is ending, I hope that future research in Rhode Island continues to expand and support sustainable aquaculture. I’d love to see more state funding for projects that benefit both oysters and kelp, stronger partnerships between researchers and industry, and initiatives such as an experimental aquaculture farm.

13. What innovation excites you most in ocean conservation?

Jacqueline: I’m excited to see how aquaculture can become more “climate-ready.” For example, breeding or selecting oyster strains that are resilient to warming waters and ocean acidification could help farmers adapt to changing conditions.

14. Ocean sunrise or sunset? Any reason why?

Jacqueline: Sunrise, preferably viewed from a surfboard.

15. If you could be any marine animal, what would you be?

Jacqueline: Humpback whale. You can’t beat the ability to echolocate.

16. Coffee or tea (or what else?) in the field?

Jacqueline: Matcha latte.

17. Most unexpected or interesting place your work has taken you?

Jacqueline: I led marine conservation programs in the Dominican Republic for a summer. We partnered with local nonprofits on coral and mangrove restoration. It was interesting to see conservation happening in a different context. I loved learning about different approaches and realizing how much we can share and learn from one another across communities and countries.

18. One book, film, or documentary everyone should experience?

Jacqueline: Blue Planet 1 and 2.

19. What does a perfect day off look like?

Jacqueline: A bike ride to the beach, body surfing in warm summer waves, and low tide sea glass hunting.

20. One word you associate with the future of the ocean?

Jacqueline: Collaboration.

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• – Meet Dr Enrico Gennari, the January Cover Conservationist

Meet The Cover Conservationist is a recurring SEVENSEAS feature that spotlights inspiring and influential people working at the forefront of ocean conservation.

Beyond the research papers, campaigns, and headlines, this series offers a more personal look at the people behind the work, exploring what drives them, challenges them, and keeps them hopeful for the future of our ocean. If there’s a conservationist you’d love to see featured on a future cover, we invite you to submit a short nomination (around 250 words) to info@sevenseasmedia.org. We receive many outstanding submissions, and while not all can be selected for publication, each is carefully considered.

Below you’ll find the merciless interrogation designed to give readers insight into our conservationist’s professional journey and the human side of life in ocean conservation. We only ask fearlessly candid, no-holds-barred questions, so get ready for a brutally honest, nail-biting interview.

---

1. To get our readers acquainted, why don’t you tell us just a little about yourself, what motivates you and what you are working on.

Enrico: I was born in Rome, closer to the Colosseum than to the ocean. Yet, I have always been fascinated by animals. When I realized my potential career in Italy would not go anywhere, I took a gamble and offered my help, for free, to researchers studying white sharks in South Africa. Basically, my life changed forever because of an email that was answered but it could be completely different otherwise. South Africa was an incredible country with lots of challenges but with an incredible marine wildlife and a pioneer in shark conservation, as it was the first country to protect the white shark in 1991, not because of certainties scientists could not provide, but because of a precautionary approach: sharks are worth conserving not just for nature but also for a country’s economic benefit. Great! I was in heaven. Yet, not without challenges: as South Africa directed funding mostly toward South Africans (rightfully), I had to come up with a different way to fund my PhD research. I applied a business approach to fund science: I was surrounded by sharks (especially white sharks), whales, dolphins, seals, incredible fish biodiversity, amazing tidal pools, thus in order to research at sea, I started to teach other people how to do field-based marine research, not in a classroom, but at sea. Students from all over the world (over 3,000 students in last 18 years) have been flocking Mossel Bay, a small town in South Africa, to train in marine research with us, and they are still coming. Mossel Bay was unique for many reasons but maybe the most important one for me was that this little bay hosted the closest white shark hunting ground (hunting Cape fur seals obviously) to any human development. The seal colony was only 800m from where thousands of water users gathered every summer: a perfect example that with knowledge and respect, we can co-exist even with white sharks, without killing them all. I did not become rich with the training program, but I managed to pay for the research of my PhD, the research that the organisation I founded back in 2008 still carries on today, as well as paying for salaries of my staff and post-graduate projects mostly for South African students. Recently, as a director of the Oceans Research Institute and research affiliate of both Rhodes University and the South African Institute for Aquatic Biodiversity, I have steered away from pure research toward more applied research. How can science be used to drive real practical changes which can make a difference for nature? Not just words on a publication, not just protection on paper, but a real impact.

One single sentence? “We do not inherit the Earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children” teaches us many things. First, Earth is not ours, we don’t own it. Second, we must pass it at least in the same conditions we got it from the previous generation. Lastly, we have a moral duty, a loan, a commitment, toward the future generations as we are morally responsible for what we do, and sometimes more importantly, for what we do not do.

2. What was the moment or influence that first pulled you toward ocean conservation? Tell us about that.

Enrico: It was not a specific single moment, but a realization over few years. I was a scientist working on sharks. I was focusing on my scientific career and my future life. However, I was pushed toward ocean advocacy and activism (not just general conservation science), when I realized that extinction is not just forever, as many people have already said before, but it can happen quickly. In less than 10 years, South Africa passed from being called the white shark capital of the world to now we celebrate when we see a single white shark. I cannot believe it has been happening in less than 10 years. I have seen it with my own eyes. In fact, a population declining gives many clues, like for instance, genetic erosion toward similar genetic characteristics, which is like kryptonite for superman, reducing the ability of that population to fight any further human-related pressure we keep throwing at it. Another sign is the reduction on the average size of the population: the more we remove older and bigger animals (as there are fewer), the more the average size of the remaining ones gets smaller. A final sign is the reduction of the distribution of the population, shrinking from both edges toward its center, known as “edge effect”. After that, the decline can escalate rapidly. All this has been happening under my watch, and that is why I take it personally. I, as everyone else, we are responsible and we ought to do more.

3. What problem are you most focused on solving right now?

Enrico: At the moment there are two scientific schools of thought in South Africa, both based on data (as nature is most of the times not easy to decipher and science provides not often sureties), which unfortunately are not allowing policy changes to happen. One group says that white sharks have just shifted their distribution mostly because of pressures from another predator (orcas) but the overall population is stable (based on a model approach) and thus does not require major interventions. We agree with the effect of orcas on white sharks. But we also say that there is no evidence of the same number of white sharks anywhere else, and on the contrary, there is evidence of genetic erosion, distribution shrinking, and reduction in average size of sighted white sharks. Furthermore, we know that white sharks have been removed every year, at least by a fishery and by the lethal shark control program of the kwaZulu Sharks Board which are two operations which receive yearly permits by the South African authorities. And those impacts are not minimal: we are talking about an average rate of 40-50 white sharks killed every year for the last 20 years. On a population between 500 and 1000, our estimates equate to at best 4-5% (or 9% at worst) of the entire population removed every single year, which is unsustainable, no matter how one looks at it. Yet, we ask the South African government to use the same precautionary approach which made South Africa a beacon of hope for the whole conservation world in 1991. Of course there are other sources of mortality, such as unregulated fisheries outside South Africa’s territorial waters, and of course, orcas; but the more we believe those other factors impact significantly white sharks, the more the urgency we should put in addressing the sources of mortalities we, as a country, have the power and responsibility to do something about. Tackling climate change is a massive task, orcas are a natural phenomenon and we should not interfere. But we can decide not to provide permits which lead to white shark mortality by taking a precautionary approach to prevent possible (I would say likely) extinctions. Nobody says to stop all fisheries, and we do support other methods to secure the safety of water users. But a change is needed. I don’t know whether we will succeed but I need to know I did everything in my power trying to prevent it, and at the bare minimum, it could serve as an example to other regions in terms of what not-doing-anything could lead to.

We recently published an opinion piece providing more information on this topic here.

4. What’s one misconception people often have about your field?

Enrico: I often hear that being a scientist you must be unbiased and not get involved. You collect data, analyse it and publish it. That’s it? To me, there must be more. “We do not inherit the Earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children” tells us that we cannot just be observers. We have a personal responsibility, a loan we have to honor. We have the duty to do something. I often ask my students, what “doing conservation science” means to them. It is a personal question so there is no wrong answer. Is publishing a paper enough for you? Is protesting on the street or to the media for lack of enforcement too much for you? Is it right to expect others to take the responsibility to drive changes all the way (which maybe is the hardest part of putting conservation into practice) because we are worried we could be seen as taking a side? I can only speak for myself and I don’t think that not having an opinion is the only way. I am a human and I do have opinions. I believe it is not wrong driving my research questions, my “fights”, my career toward specific directions, as long as I interpret my data without biases, maintaining my integrity. In the same way that I publicly state that I am against wars, genocides, ecocide, I will always publicly state when I believe a government is not doing enough to protect the biodiversity of its country.

5. What achievement are you most proud of, even if few people know about it?

Enrico: I believe and hope that future generations will have more power than ours in changing things and having an impact, if we make them more aware and bestow a sense of ownership toward nature. That can only happen if they experience nature first hand. With the ocean it is a bit more difficult, as you cannot take an entire classroom full of young kids out to sea at once. Therefore, our organisation has tried to move away from one-way teaching approaches to schools, more toward full immersion experiences: from learning first to swim and providing jobs related to the ocean for young students, to virtual immersions using VR technology (if Mohammed cannot go to the mountain, then the mountain must go to Mohammed) allowing even rural schools to experience the “WHOA!” effect and thus care for the ocean. Among those kids maybe there is the country’s future Minister of the environment: one never knows. Anyway, sometimes the greatest achievement is what you did not plan for. I still remember the shivers in my spine when I was told that one of those kids we taught to swim and found a job at the local life-saving club, after only few months from plunging his head into the ocean for the first time, saved an old man from drowning. We will likely never see the world changing because of our actions, but even an under-funded program can change the world at once, at least the world of that kid and that old man did change. Trying to have an impact will always bring good things, even if not those you expect.

6. What keeps you going when conservation feels overwhelming?

Enrico: I often think about this and I debate it often with my good friend Chris Fallows, international photographer, naturalist, and mainly nature lover. Little digression: for everyone out there who wants to help but does not have a degree in marine biology, I always try to convince Chris that he is also a scientist, as he collects data while at sea, helps me understand and analyse and contributes to the interpretation. It is a work in progress as he is not convinced yet but I will succeed.

Anyway, going back to feeling overwhelmed. I was fortunate enough to be born in a country that was not at war. I was able to study while not working, travel and live in a different country, get a PhD, never know what hunger, racism, injustice really mean. I owe to the other people who were not that lucky to do something more than just publish papers. I owe nature to do more, to try more. Maybe I am strange, but I cannot go to bed and look in the mirror in the morning, knowing that I advanced my career but I could have done more for nature. I owe my life to my mom and dad, but I owe my career, as well as the ability to provide for my daughter, to nature, to the ocean, and specifically to white sharks. When I feel down, I repeat to myself, we need to do more, we can do more.

In fact, while as South Africans we have made some progresses in terms of marine conservation, unfortunately we have not been able to deal with many big issues like some poorly managed fisheries and lack of effective enforcement, which unfortunately have contributed to the disappearance of white sharks in the majority of the historical aggregations along our coastline. So when our research shows us that in less than 10 years South Africa passed from hotspot to dead spot for white sharks and which could be functionally extinct in the region in less than 30 years, to me, that not only raises a flag but pushes me and my colleagues harder to provide more evidence for the government to act. But it also empowers me to stand up and speak up, right now, urgently, and not just wait for more data. I am not in the “business” to describe extinction and publish about it. Rather, I will push (as my colleagues tell me, often not as a compliment) to try to prevent it and find a different path. I sincerely, and seriously, hope to be proven wrong in the near future: maybe my career might take a dip, but the white sharks will keep swimming in our waters: I can easily live with that. But if we cannot provide a future for the most famous and economically important shark species in the world, what chances are left for all the other less known species in the ocean. In fact, it is not just about white sharks. They are ironically the low hanging fruit (not that low now in South Africa unfortunately). They are the perfect ambassadors for the ocean’s health. They are the spokesperson/species for the ocean, and we ought to keep it that way.

So when I am overwhelmed, I try to give that feeling a reason, a motivation for why it is there. If I am overwhelmed it is because the situation is dire and thus I need to do more. I owe it to myself first, but also to many many people and to nature too. I cannot give up.

7. What’s something the public rarely sees about how conservation really works?

Enrico: Often people think that conservation means spending time with animals in beautiful lands or seascapes. I have realized that often, when you try to help achieve a conservation goal, you spend a lot of time in front of a computer, analysing data and then communicating your data to other scientists (to validate the data you collected and their interpretations). But it cannot stop there. You need to communicate to people: via social media (I suck at it), via public talks (I am a bit better, even though considering my weird Itanglish language), via documentaries. But it is not enough again: when scientists talk, not as scientists, governments tend to listen better. But again that is not enough, as government would carry on business as usual, after you stop talking: thus you need to engage further, demand for accountability and responsibility, and most importantly, try to sit at the tables where the real decisions are made (which when you speak up against those tables it becomes even more difficult). All this is without putting a single foot in nature. There is no swimming with dolphins, diving with sharks, or walking side by side with elephants. It is all dirty work, but that kind that does not impact the cleanliness of your clothes. It is tiring, not rewarding often, slow and it can impact your mind, if you don’t keep reminding yourself why you started doing that, why publishing a paper was not enough anymore, and most importantly, if you don’t remember the beauty you are trying to help protect.

8. If you could change one policy tomorrow, what would it be?

Enrico: As a businessman, like for any big business, the realization of something does not guarantee its success. As important as an invention could be, we must make sure it not only works but it provides the desired results, and monitor how those results (and even the possible negative effects) progress. An accountability policy: “vision without execution is just hallucination” a quote attributed to Thomas Edison and repeated recently by Costa Rica’s President Rodrigo Chaves Robles at the Blue Economy and Finance Forum in Monaco this year. If you can’t monitor whether something works over the years, how do you know whether it is worth continuing with it or even improving it? If you can’t budget a system like that to be in place, you are just doing a tick-box exercise. Any protection impacts people and the economy, at least at the start, so if we can’t monitor whether it is working and how to improve it, then why impacting people in the first place, one could say. We have perfect examples in South Africa: “paper parks” are national parks and marine areas which are protected, on paper, but often are scourged by poachers. “We don’t have budget for proper enforcement and monitoring” we keep on hearing. Ok then, don’t just stop there, ask for help, let’s find that budget together. Private Public Partnerships (African Parks, Peace Parks Foundation are some great examples of PPP in co-management of protected areas) exist in the rest of Africa but South Africa is lagging behind. But it is not just about poachers in South Africa. There are commercial fishing boats which fish in Marine Protected Areas regularly, because there are no consequences (link). The only court case against a fishing vessel fishing inside a Marine Protected Area has happened because the public had enough of informing the government and the management authorities and seeing no action. So members of the public went out by themselves, collected evidences and opened a case at the police and because of that the judge was able not only to sanction as an illegal fishing event but as damage to the environment, which carries a much larger fine (link). The public can be of help, especially if listened to. Same for technology: for example AI-integrated satellite imagery able to identify fishing events remotely (link) is used in all southern African countries (as it is free for governments) besides South Africa. If a government realizes it cannot do everything by itself anymore, courage should come up and it should admit it needs help: acceptance of a problem is the first step to find a solution. All those different approaches can help government to monitor the progresses of its “inventions” and act on them.

9. What role do individuals play compared to governments or industry?

Enrico: A simple example. In my own little world, I procured over 3 Million Rand from a private donor to support enforcement in a Marine Protected Area of South Africa, allowing them to use a high-tech fixed wing drone that can fly over a 100 km radius. If I can do, I am sure more people can do the same (I am not that special trust me). If you see a problem, don’t just blame someone else, but help them in finding a solution.

10. What advice would you give to someone who wants to help but feels powerless?

Enrico: “I am just a drop of water in an ocean of problems”. I always tell my students that diversity is the key from nature to humans. Each of us has at least one strength, an expertise, something more. Try to focus, not on what you cannot do, but on what you are good at. I can guarantee, out there, there will be someone, or an organisation, looking for someone like you. Maybe, they cannot pay you for that, but if you are looking to help, you will always be welcomed. In this era of hyper specialization, not a single person can do everything. Try to contact someone, or an organisation, in the field of interest to you, and ask, “who else could benefit from me?” For instance, in my small world again, I wish I could have studied more statistics at university and that is why I love collaborating with statisticians. I wish I could work more hand-in-hand with people with legal expertise. Graphic designers can allow an organisation in raising its image. People who can easily use social media can allow better communication between scientists and the public. At the end of the day, “what is an ocean but a multitude of drops” (Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell).

11. Where do you realistically hope your work will be in 5–10 years?

Enrico: I sincerely hope to be jobless, or better, “projectless”, because all my projects I am working on now will have created practical actions to improve problems: thus they had an impact. My main projects are from trying to get the South African government to recognise there is a problem with white sharks and it has the power to address it. Another project is on developing a new alternative technology to keep water users safe without killing potentially dangerous shark species (I will test it in the new year). A project I am trying to start aims to reduce the killing of humpback whales by limiting the impact of seafloor cages of the lobster fishery in the West coast of South Africa. As mentioned before, another continuous project tries to support management authorities of marine protected areas in terms of practical and effective enforcement. Another project aims to promote the use of modern technology for enforcing area-related fishing regulations which is lacking. All projects are built on science and technology with a clear immediate impact (5 to 10 years). Realistically though, I believe that in 10 years time, I will still try to search support for those projects and others, as knowledge is never the problem, but the money is.

12. What innovation excites you most in ocean conservation?

Enrico: As conservationists we often don’t have the budgets for R&D that other areas of research have. Thus we need to be more “thieves” than inventors: I am not saying to steal anything, but readapt something invented for something else. For instance, together with an Italian company (TechnoSm@rt) we developed a series of sensors similar to those found in the activity watches to measure this time the activity of white sharks hunting. When I applied the first tag (a series of sensors and a small camera attached to the dorsal fin of a white sharks, non-intrusive as it detaches after 24 hours), I remember I felt off the chair when I watched that white shark predating not on a seal but on a flock of cormorants:

Another time, I was mesmerized when our white shark breached out of the water and landed back with an acceleration of 8.3 Gs, which means 8.3 times the gravity we normally experience, which is close to that 9G threshold that causes tunnel vision or blackouts in fighter jet pilots. How cool is that? Also because that white shark carried on, business as usual, as if it had just run a normal sprint: AMAZING!!!!

13. What do you hope people will say about your work in the future and what legacy do you hope to leave behind?

Enrico: I sincerely do not care about my legacy. I just want to know I had an impact, not for glory but for my peace of mind: I did indeed help. In terms of legacy, I just hope that more and more people take responsibility for what is happening, caring less about personal careers/interests and more about personal impact on nature.

14. At heart, are you more of a researcher, activist, storyteller, or something completely different?

Enrico: Is there really a difference? To me, a researcher must be also a storyteller, otherwise we just preach to the converted or care only about our careers. We need to convince people that conserving the natural world is not just right but it is also a societal commitment to be better, and can even produce more wealth in the long-term: a sustainable fishery means more profits and more employment in the long-term, as it does not close down in the short term. I am not against fishing at all, in fact, I am only against unsustainable fisheries which are too many unfortunately at the moment. A rainforest that is protected produces more oxygen and removes more CO2, less CO2 means more ice cover in the polar regions, which means more krill (if fished more sustainably, again), which means healthier whale populations, which are carbon sinkers, which can reduce extreme weather events: an incredible positive feedback. Obviously it is a simplification, but nature is able to amplify any good action we do. So it is worth also for the general public. But it cannot stop just with communication. Even if, and when, we can change public perception, I believe we, as researchers, ought to use our influence to demand changes and not limiting our “impacts” to publishing scientific data. We need to talk to politicians and managers, and convince them a change is needed, urgently as that there is no planet B.

15. Ocean sunrise or sunset? Any reason why?

Enrico: Sunset! I don’t know why but sunset feels lasting longer to me. To me, the colours are also more vivid at sunset. When we used to track white sharks with a small boat for over 5 days at sea continuously, I remember watching sunrise which brought a sense of relaxation, tranquility, and easiness, as the worst was passed. Instead sunset was the foyer of the night, to an almost different dimension we are not supposed to be comfortable in, when all your survival instincts wake up. Sunset is the beauty that leads to a realization of our fragility. However, it is the real domain of sharks, as we showed in a Netflix documentary called Night on Earth, portraying the incredible night life of white sharks, never seen before. Thus, to me, sunset is a true oxymoron: light and darkness, calm and unknown, excitement and fragility.

16. A species you think deserves more attention?

Enrico: This little shark is called the smoothhound shark (gummy shark in Australia). It is a shark hanging on the coastal seafloor. It schools in large number (or used to unfortunately) and was able to sustain even several fisheries in South Africa. It is what we call a mesopredator, supporting apex predators preying on it, but also being a predator itself controlling the functions of other species below it. A fishery, not properly managed as even less enforced, has been responsible for the collapse of this species in South Africa. This fishery does not benefit South Africa (or at least maybe just a handful of already rich people), provides very little job opportunities and everything is exported especially to Australia for “flake and chips”. Furthermore, the South African smoothhound sharks have been proven being loaded with high level of heavy metals (link). Therefore, while Australia is contributing to the destruction of nature “assets” in a foreign country but pushing for better management of its own stocks, it is also poisoning its own citizens slowly. Furthermore, the smoothhound sharks are also related to the same battle to conserve white sharks in South Africa (link). The South Africa’s government assessed smoothhound sharks as Endangered (and soupfin sharks as Critically Endangered) in 2019, Yet, in 2025, the same Department of Fisheries allows the same 2 species to still be the main target species by the Demersal Shark Longline fishery, with no maximum quota (link).

In December 2025, the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of wild fauna and flora (CITES) has ratified a more strict international trade regulation for the smoothhound sharks (and also the soupfin or tope sharks). At the present, I don’t know whether South Africa voted against or did not vote at all (the vote was unanimous) but the point is that South Africa is facing a choice now: we can wait for 18 months (the timeline decided by CITES) pushing this unsustainable and unmanaged fishery until it cannot export anymore overseas, OR we can show that we support the use of natural resources only when sustainable, shutting down this fishery which has been proven, over and over again, disregarding all regulations, not benefiting South Africans, and having a massive ecological impact. I believe South Africa should apply the core of its Constitution with aims at preserving nature for present and future generations.

17. If you could be any marine animal, what would you be?

Enrico: I know I am getting older as most of my students do not even know movies or TV series I do reference from time to time. One tv series I truly loved when I was a kid was Manimal, the story of a man able to transform itself into many animals. I always wondered, besides growing fur or feathers, how its physiology could change that quickly at cellular levels. BORING! Sorry! I am diverging.

Anyway, my animal choice is not a shark! I instead always dreamt of flying like an albatross which spends years without touching land (obviously they stop, and float, and feed on the ocean), or even (not marine though) a peregrine falcon able to reach almost 400 km/h, or a vulture being able to soar using the power of thermals without flipping a wing.

18. Most unexpected or interesting place your work has taken you?

Enrico: Mana Pools in Zimbabwe, hands down. With a team of friends, photographers and videographers, while they try to capture nature in two dimensions, I personally search for close footage of animals in 360 to be able to show city-kids the beauty of one of Africa’s wildest places. It is one of the few places on Earth where you are allowed, at your own risk, to walk among lions, elephants, hippos, hyenas etc. It is a magical place, dangerous for sure, if you are not careful at all times, but a place able to put your being back into perspective. We humans feel powerful, too often omnipotent, able to bend nature at our will. Our technologies can hold the powers of nature. We feel bigger. In Mana, instead, you feel so small (when an elephant walks by you), fragile (when a hyena is busy chewing on an impala’s bone while staring at you), almost insignificant (for that lion who has just eaten, when you are passing by it in the middle of the day). In Mana, I reassess my life, my commitments, I realign my priorities: it is a mystical experience, the yearly enlightenment on my road to Damascus. If only more people leading this world could feel themselves that small, maybe we would have less problems and create less problems.

19. One book, film, or documentary everyone should experience?

Enrico: Carrying on with my amazement for birds (but don’t tell Chris Fallows who is obviously an avid birder), I would say “Jonathan Livingston Seagull” by Richard Bach. A short book, I read many times since I was around 10 years old. It is about independent thinking: no matter what the “flock” around you does, or how crazy you appear, or how different your ideas are, following your own heart and dreams is the only way to ultimately reach the real freedom and self-determination.

20. If you weren’t in conservation, what would you be doing?

Enrico: Since it is about fantasizing, as I cannot see myself outside acting for conservation, I would like not only to be someone else but also at another time. I would have loved being an explorer, when the unknowns were normal and not the exceptions. That is why, when I dive, or when I walk in the bush, I tend not to follow the beaten path, for the joy of my mom 😊

21. One word you associate with the future of the ocean?

Enrico: Actions with impacts, sorry, three words, but this is my interview 😊

The Chacabuco Valley stretched wide before us. The golden steppe was broken by winding rivers, framed by snow-capped ridges that seemed to glow in the fall sun. We were in the heart of Patagonia National Park, a place reborn from what used to be one of the largest sheep ranches in Chile. Old Estancias once carved the land into squares made of barbed wire and filled with overgrazed pastures. But today, those fences are gone. The grasslands pulse with guanacos again and the park has become a symbol of what rewilding can mean when it’s done right.

We’d come here to see a beacon of rewilding in the area, which took shape as an oddly familiar looking species of bird called the Darwin’s rhea (known locally as ñandú or choique.) It’s Patagonia’s strangest survivors, this flightless animal with legs built for speed and feathers streaked in soft browns that disappear into the grass. From a distance, they look almost prehistoric, like something you might imagine darting across the steppe in a bygone epoch. Up close, they’re ecosystem engineers, spreading seeds that shape grassland health, and feed predators such as pumas and foxes that depend on them for survival.

These birds possess an unusual way of fertilizing the land, making them critical players and worth a heavy invesment in their rewilding. Unlike guanacos, which use fixed latrines (skat dropping areas) that concentrate nutrients in one spot, rheas are wanderers in every sense. As they roam, they drop seeds across the steppe in a steady scatter, with each pile of droppings carried further by rodents like tuco-tucos that burrow and churn the soil. This gives plants a chance to take root in Patagonia’s harsh winds. It’s a less prominent, yet highly fundamental cycle where rheas eat, move, fertilize, and in doing so, stitch the landscape together. Without them, the steppe would grow weaker and far less resilient.

Rheas, standing about three feet tall, are designed to vanish into Patagonia’s grasslands rather than dominate them. Rheas move almost like ghosts, disappearing into the landscape until you realize the ground itself was alive and moving all along. And yet here, in what should be one of their strongholds, rheas had nearly vanished. 

Just a decade ago, a survey inside the park found fewer than 22 individuals left—a catastrophically low number for a bird so integral. The reasons were painfully manmade, as they often are when it comes to biodiversity loss like this. Decades of ranching, which ended here in 2008, had blanketed the valley in fences that trapped and killed rheas. Eggs were taken for food, chicks were chased down, and their range shrank until they were pushing just shy of a memory.

That’s where Emiliana Retamal, a young veterinarian turned wildlife ranger, comes into the conversation. She’s part of a small team with Rewilding Chile trying to bring rheas back to the Chacabuco steppe. The first thing she said upon meeting was to slow our movements, talk less, and to follow her lead when approaching these flightless wonders. We were off to the holding pens that served as a temporary home for both rhea adults and chicks, known here as charitos. Some of them were getting ready to be released into the wild, marking another historic moment for the rewilding team.

The following morning was all about getting things right. Rewilding Chile’s rhea initiative, called Ñandú Conservation and Recovery Programme, has been running since 2014. Ever since, the team has been incubating eggs, raising chicks, slowly reintroducing birds into the wild, all building toward a goal of restoring a self-sustaining population of at least 100 adults and at least four actively reproducing.

For Emiliana, release days are equal parts research, nerves, and a ton of hope. Each bird is carefully prepared, including mandatory health checks, parasite treatments, and a period of acclimatization inside open-air pens where they gain strength and learn to fend for themselves. The idea is not to domesticate them in any way, but rather, give them just enough of a head start to survive top predators, and Patagonia’s harsh winters once the pen gates swing open. Some are fitted with GPS collars—the first of their kind for monitoring rheas here—allowing the team to track their survival rates and see if they’re reproducing in the wild.

We were fortunate enough to witness this particular relase, which was a true milestone. Alongside captive-born birds, a group of 15 rheas had been translocated from Argentina for the first time. These wild individuals were specifically brought in to bolster genetics. These bird groups act quite differently, with the wild ones moving as a tighter group and demonstrating discomfort around people. That’s exactly what Emiliana wants, as the goal is to ensure the animals remember what it means to be wild or remain entirely wild to up their chances of survival.

When the moment finally came, the puesto (or field station) buzzed with controlled urgency. Emiliana and her patchwork team of rangers, vets, community leaders, and allies, moved with practiced rhythm, coaxing these powerful, awkward-looking birds into small wooden crates. These rheas were not tame, so asking them to willingly go into confinement requires a patient and steady hand. Every movement was about safety—maximizing calmness while minimizing stress, and avoiding injury for all.

Outside, a convoy of trucks rumbled to life while drones circled high above, ready to follow the release. Autumn had painted the surrounding forests in fire-reds, yellows and oranges. The air carried the kind of crispness that warned of winter’s approach. Bundled in layers, we set off across the park along a road that wound through valleys where iconic mountains dominated the horizon. The landscape begged us to stop and stare, but the mission pushed us forward. When we reached the release site, the cages were lifted down and arranged side by side. The team stood in a nervous silence. Everything was ready, so the countdown began.

On the count of three, the gates opened and the wranglers stepped back fast. For a heartbeat, not a single bird moved. Then, with a rush of feathers and legs, the rheas spilled out into the open, scattering across the grasslands like wind made visible. Some lingered, hesitating at the threshold. Others bolted in tight groups, vanishing into the tawny steppe. It certainly was not graceful, but it was emotional nonetheless. A species that had nearly disappeared from this place was running free, once again.

Releases like this may look simple. Open the gates, let the birds run, right? But the reality is far from it. Rewilding is hard work, and with rheas, it’s closer to brutal. In the wild, more than half of chicks don’t survive their first year. Eggs are eaten by predators or trampled by livestock, chicks are picked off by foxes, eagles, and pumas, and even curiosity can be fatal. Young birds often die from mistaking the wrong thing for food, like rocks or other inedible objects. And on top of that, the male birds are sometimes left caring for 50 chicks at once, making survival that much harder. Add to that the genetic bottleneck of starting with so few individuals in the wild, and every single bird that makes it into adulthood feels like a victory against impossible odds.

That’s why Emiliana and her team treat each rhea like an individual case study. Every release is followed by weeks of long days in the field monitoring and collecting data. Collars on individuals provide glimpses of survival, but much of the knowledge still comes from old-fashioned ranger work of tracking footprints across the steppe. Their job next will be to spot birds from a distance, asking local police and community members to report sightings to speed up the process.

And yet, for all the setbacks, the progress is undeniable for this team. From a ghost population of just 22 individuals to more than 70 now roaming the Chacabuco steppe, the recovery is indisputable. But numbers alone aren’t enough around here. Survival depends on genetics, and until recently, most of the birds released here had been hatched or raised in captivity. This means they were strong in body, but softer in instinct. This release however, was marking a turning point.

These 15 wild rheas translocated from Argentina to Puesto Ñandú—just a few kilometers from the border—arrived carrying what captive-bred birds could not: diverse DNA, sharper instincts, and that memory of how to live without the aid of humans. While borders divide people, they mean nothing to the animals who cross them freely. Rheas don’t recognize Chile or Argentina, but they recognize habitat. And if this recovery is to last, it will take both nations working together to protect the grasslands they share.

Even with the numbers trending upward, one of the biggest challenges is, of course, social. In nearby Cochrane, Emiliana is known casually as “the choique girl.” People are aware of the project, but they don’t always feel ownership of it. Many still see the park as something created by outsiders, disconnected from their lives. That gap is fundamental, and something the Rewilding Chile team, as well as its other collaborators including Quimán Reserve, CONAF (Chile’s National Forestry Corporation), SAG (Agriculture and Livestock Service) and Carabineros de Chile, are putting emphasis on. Rewilding efforts must be equally about saving species and building genuine relationships with communities or everything done in the field will not be effective.

Being in attendance on that release day, standing in the steppe as the cages opened and rheas burst back into a landscape that once nearly lost them, was something that will never escape our memory. The pride on the team’s faces, the outward relief after months of preparation, the sight of those birds vanishing into the golden grasslands, all felt triumphant.

As Emiliana reminded us, this is only the beginning. In the vastness of Patagonia National Park, surrounded by snow-capped ridges and rivers that once ran through sheep pastures, the work ahead is as immense as the landscape itself. Watching rheas roam free again was proof that rewilding means to restore the past, in addition to defining a new future, where ecosystems can someday thrive without our intervention.

Written by: Andi Cross

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Andi Cross is an explorer, strategist, and extended range diver with Scuba Schools International and Scubapro, who leads Edges of Earth—a global expedition and consulting collective documenting resilience and climate solutions across the world’s most remote coastlines. Her work centers on “positive deviance”—spotlighting outliers succeeding against the odds—and using storytelling and strategy to help scale their impact.