By Ally Stocks
As a child, I was raised to cherish nature. I grew my own vegetables and rode my bike to school. I think I was eight years old when I realized I wanted to save the planet. I was furious whenever I saw someone litter, going so far as to throw rocks at people dumping their garbage on the street. (Luckily my aim was — and still is — terrible. I never hit anyone). As I grew older, my love for the earth translated into a passion for biology, geography and environmental science. I’ve travelled across the world to learn about how humans interact with the planet — what we rely on to survive and what our impact is as a result.
But the truth is, saving the world often feels like an impossible challenge. As a conservation biologist, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by all the bad news — the species extinctions, the destructive resource extraction, the exploding human populations, and wave after wave of urban development at the expense of nature.
That’s why, recently, I was thrilled and a little overwhelmed to be surrounded by scores of other, likeminded young scientists who want to devote their lives to improving how we do research, developing sustainable livelihood programs, and ultimately saving threatened species from extinction. I was participating in the 16th Student Conference on Conservation Science, held in Cambridge, England. A hundred and twenty young scientists from 60 countries were in attendance, along with four plenary speakers and plenty of professors and professionals. The conference lasted three days, each of which was jam-packed with student talks, poster sessions, workshops, and plenary talks. The topics ranged from conserving big cats, to regulating trade, to asking sensitive cross-cultural questions, to understanding the interaction between policy and human well-being in a conservation management framework.
I really enjoyed learning about species I’d never even heard of, like the guiña, a small cat in Chile, and the saiga, a critically endangered antelope in Mongolia. I was fascinated by methods commonly used in terrestrial conservation, like camera traps. Who knew it could be as easy as placing a bunch of cameras on trees to figure out community composition?
I was lucky enough to give a talk, and I enjoyed the chance to shift the terrestrial-heavy focus to marine systems for a little while. I focused on the livelihoods of fishers on Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam, many of whom rely on seahorses as a source of income. The island is a unique area where many different gear types catch seahorses, and some boats even target seahorses specifically. At least 150,000 seahorses are caught and landed off the island each year — a large portion of the overall catch in Vietnam. From a conservation perspective, ensuring the survival of seahorses becomes much more complicated when people fish for them directly.
It was inspiring to have so many people come up to me afterwards to chat about my research, wanting to know more and offering their insights to the complex task of managing seahorse fisheries in data-deficient situations. I was offered advice about community engagement, with examples from the Caribbean and Indian Ocean. I was also able to draw from terrestrial methods, like land stewardship, to help brainstorm ways to make Vietnam’s seahorse fisheries more sustainable. I quickly became friends with students from Italy, England, Brazil, South Africa, Australia, the USA, and India. Hearing their stories and relating to them on so many levels was a powerful experience.
As young conservationists, our generation is more interconnected than any before it. The possibilities for collaboration are dizzying, and with new technologies making it easier than ever to study wildlife and monitor threats, it’s impossible not to feel optimistic about the future. I left Cambridge convinced that we are going to change conservation and improve the world we live in.
I look forward to making the eight-year-old version of me proud.
Ally Stocks is a graduate student with Project Seahorse. Follow her on Twitter @Ally_Stocks.