Founder’s Briefs: An occasional series where Mongabay founder Rhett Ayers Butler shares analysis, perspectives and story summaries. In Salonga National Park in the Democratic Republic of Congo, researchers and trackers are working to habituate a group of about 60 bonobos. The aim is to help the great apes accept a limited human presence, first for research, and later for carefully managed tourism. The process is slow. Trackers may leave camp around 3 a.m. to reach the previous night’s nesting site before the bonobos (Pan paniscus) wake. They then follow the group through the forest until the endangered apes build new nests in the evening. “The whole idea of habituation is that you meet the group every day in a very friendly, non-interactive way so they accept you as part of the forest,” Felix Bofeko, an assistant researcher in the program, told Mongabay’s David Akana. Habituation requires the same people, same restraint, and same routine, repeated long enough for the animals to stop treating human presence as a threat. When the work began, the bonobos fled at the sight of people. Now, Bofeko says, researchers can sometimes remain with them for two or three hours. Two visitors may be tolerated. Three or four may still be too many. The work has value even before tourism begins. Habituated animals can be observed more closely. Researchers can collect fecal and urine samples for genetic, pathogen, and diet analysis. Salonga is part of the Bonobo Diversity Project gathering standardized data across the DRC. Camera…This article was originally published on Mongabay

  A field station is usually a working place. It may have bunkrooms, trails, a generator, stored specimens, weathered notebooks, drying boots, a small lab, and staff who know when the road floods, where to find a mobile network signal, or which hillside burned five years ago. Its value is easy to miss because it is often measured through other things: papers, students, monitoring plots, visiting researchers, restored forest, fewer snares, or a longer record of what changed. A new BioScience paper argues that these stations deserve a larger role in conservation policy, especially in the tropics. The authors describe tropical field stations as institutions that can help turn global environmental commitments into local work. Governments have promised to protect more land and sea, restore degraded ecosystems, slow extinctions, and make conservation more equitable. These goals require information, trust, capacity, and persistence. Field stations can supply much of that infrastructure. Cabang Panti research station in Gunung Palung, Indonesia. Photo by Rhett Ayers Butler The argument is strongest in places where conservation decisions affect both biodiversity and livelihoods. A station in a forest, savanna, wetland, or coastal ecosystem is more than a base for visiting scientists. It can support long-term monitoring, train local researchers, employ people from nearby communities, and keep conservation connected to park staff, farmers, fishers, Indigenous groups, and officials. More data, harder answers That gap is important because conservation has become data-rich and answer-poor. Satellites can detect tree-cover loss within days. Acoustic sensors can record birds, frogs, insects,…This article was originally published on Mongabay

  The Amazon is often described in terms of how much carbon it stores. It also moves vast amounts of water. Its trees draw moisture from the soil and return it to the air through transpiration. Some rain caught by the canopy also evaporates back into the atmosphere. That moisture falls again, some of it inside the basin and some of it far downwind. For much of South America, the forest helps sustain rainfall, farming, hydropower, and urban water supplies. A recent paper in Nature, by Nico Wunderling and colleagues, gives this hydrological role greater weight in the climate case for the Amazon. The authors used a dynamical systems model and atmospheric moisture tracking to estimate how deforestation and warming interact across the basin. Without deforestation, their model finds a critical global warming threshold of about 3.7 to 4.0 degrees Celsius, beyond which up to a third of the Amazon forest risks losing stability. When deforestation is included, the risk becomes much larger at a lower level of warming. Under deforestation of 22% to 28% of the biome and warming of 1.5 to 1.9 degrees Celsius, the model finds a near system-wide transition affecting 62% to 77% of the forest. Rain over the Amazon. Photo by Rhett Ayers Butler Those numbers should be treated carefully. The Amazon is not a single ecological unit. Western forests, southern forests, flooded forests, upland forests, secondary forests, and fire-damaged edges differ in species composition, rainfall, soils, and drought tolerance. A model cannot capture every…This article was originally published on Mongabay