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Field Notes #18: The Burning Question

9/23/2026

 
Text by Hannah Hilden-Reid
We are now roughly one year out from the start of our project at the Akaka site, in Ranomafana National Park (RNP), Madagascar. It has been an incredible year, filled with a plethora of challenges but always coupled with some really amazing successes. This project, aimed at examining the impact of fire disturbance on faunal species residing within fire-sensitive ecosystems, began in June of 2025. We aim to investigate the ecological impacts of fire on Eulemur rubriventer (red-bellied lemur) and Eulemur rufifrons (red-fronted brown lemur), both medium-bodied, frugivorous, arboreal, and cathemeral primates endemic to Madagascar. We are hoping to learn more about how this major fire event influences these sympatric lemur species’ feeding behavior, movement ecology, and activity patterns within RNP’s Akaka site, beginning five months post-fire and continuing for approximately 18 months. Short-term observations will generate insights into direct behavioral shifts, while long-term monitoring will inform our understanding of population-level dynamics and potential mechanisms for forest recovery. Akaka has experienced a series of disturbances for decades; at present, it consists primarily of secondary forest having been impacted by logging, mining, human settlement, previous fires, and a high prevalence of invasive plant species. Unfortunately, pre-fire baseline data are unavailable for the Akaka site, but we are aiming to assess our findings relative to those of E. rubriventer and E. rufifrons groups at Valohoaka, a second site within RNP representing undisturbed primary forest, which will serve as a pseudo-control for this study.
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Local village of Vohiparara, located near the Akaka Site in Ranomafana National Park, Madagascar.
In June of 2026, our first order of business was creating our amazing team: our research assistant, Naly; our two Centre ValBio (CVB) technicians, Manana and Vololona; our two local Vohiparara guides, Nirina and Gerard; and our highly skilled (and very patient) CVB cook, Njato. With our team assembled, we made our way into the forest, searching for a suitable camp deep enough into the forest, just outside of the local village of Vohiparara, in close proximity to known groups of our study species, and nearest to the most recent fire that occurred at the end of 2024 and into early 2025.

Once our tents were up, our tarp-covered kitchen constructed, and our pit toilet dug, it was time to build the infrastructure of data collection. With the expertise of all of our guides, but especially Nirina and Gerard, who were most familiar with the forest, we began constructing our ten one-kilometer transects throughout the area. This process was laborious and tedious, taking an entire twelve-day expedition to complete and resulting in many slips and falls by (almost exclusively) me. But once completed, we were able to effectively perform our faunal transect and phenology surveys. Additionally, we constructed sixty vegetation plots in an effort to measure forest composition, structure, and regeneration in this period post-fire.
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Akaka Site impacted by recent fire and former illegal mining efforts
We were also getting our feet wet with polishing our focal follow and scan sampling protocols of the resident lemur groups in the area, with each field team member playing a different role in the process (GPS tracking, data recording, lemur locating, plant identification, and feeding-tree tagging). Finally, in August of 2025, we welcomed the GPS collaring team, led by veterinarian Haja, with extensive experience collaring lemurs all over Madagascar. His veterinary team, accompanied by representatives from CVB, Madagascar National Parks (MNP), and CAFF/CORE (Malagasy research oversight committee), were successful in capturing and affixing GPS collars to six lemurs at Akaka (four E. rubriventer and two E. rufifrons). These collars will be used to record GPS locations and acceleration events over 24-hour periods, allowing us to measure daily and nightly travel distance, activity rates, and Autocorrelated Kernel Density Estimation (AKDE) of home ranges across spatial and temporal scales.

Furthermore, we have successfully mapped the burn boundary in the northern portion of the field site using our GPSs. This mapping allows us to delineate the unburned area from the burned area, compare vegetation structure inside and outside the burned zone, and plan future sampling and monitoring within this boundary.​
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Severe damage to vegetation in the wake of the Ranomafana Fire occurring late December of 2024 into early January 2025
Unfortunately, we have documented several threats to biodiversity during our fieldwork. These include fire impacts, including substantial vegetation loss, canopy thinning, and reduced ground as well as canopy cover. We also recorded signs of human activity, including novel footpaths, cut vegetation, and active gold mining holes. Additionally, the site shows a high abundance of invasive species, most notably strawberry guava (Psidium cattleianum). We will continue to document these ongoing threats as our study continues.
​

We are officially approaching our twenty-ninth expedition, with the hope of continuing this study to the end of the year. I could not be happier with the progress we have made and can’t wait to see what we ultimately discover! It has been a pleasure to be a guest in this unique and magical place, surrounded by some of the most extraordinary wildlife and people. ​

Field Notes #17: Fragments of Mada

8/24/2026

 
Text by Sabine Cudney-Valenzuela
​Tana
Up in the sky, after 32 hours of travel, I opened the airplane window to a pitch-black night. On the ground, you could barely see any lights, just the occasional orange moon-shaped glows of slash-and-burn agriculture. I landed at Antananarivo, the “city of a thousand soldiers,” by midnight and dragged myself through Immigration and Customs until 1:30 AM. On my way out, a smiling man who had been waiting for me all this time received me with my name written on a piece of paper and helped me get my luggage on the car. We tried to exchange a few words, but it soon became clear that he only spoke Malagasy and that my French was much worse than I could remember. But we managed to find our way through choppy words and gestures, and he dropped me off at my hotel in the city for a well-deserved rest.
​
The next morning, I went to explore the city. The streets of Tana seem frozen in time in many ways. Maybe it’s the old Renault 4s and the Citroen 2CVs that fill the streets, or the brick-pitched-roof houses built all together, or the people wearing fedoras and semiformal suits. The city gives you a feeling like everything is a lively market. A woman piles up mangoes and lychees in small pyramids next to dry fish, while another one tries on lambas of every color and negotiates the price. It doesn’t take long before I hear a word that will define my position in this country: “Bonjour Vazaha!” It means foreigner/white person, and it’s used regularly by people in the streets to call my attention. People crowd the sidewalks selling all kinds of stuff next to each other: chickens, fruits, pans, clothes, plastics, crafts. An old lady is selling a small bucket of roasted peanuts. Another man extends a bandana on the floor and sells two used belts, and an alarm clock. Kids carrying kids don’t sell anything but extend their hand squishing their fingers together as if to catch a drop of rain.
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The view from my hotel in Tana
​Ranomafana
The drive to Ranomafana is long and treacherous. From Tana, it has taken me between 11 hours to 2 days, depending on the road and car conditions. My gaze locks on the picturesque countryside with slim two-story brick houses looming over the rice fields when I’m suddenly jerked into a car-sized pothole. The road is shared by people, cows, and colorful zebu carts, and it’s often transformed into a market whenever it cuts through a town. I’m always entertained to see all the kinds of things people fit over the taxi-brousse (the vans) or their bikes. You can see ducks and chickens poking their heads out through the holes of woven baskets tied to the taxi-brousse ceiling. The other day I saw someone carrying a mid-sized live pig wrapped in a straw-mat like a giant burrito on their bike.
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A taxi-brousse packed with chickens
​After two days and several car breakdowns, we finally made it to Ranomafana. It’s a small town next to a wide river, and it got its name, “hot water”, from the nearby hot springs. Many people know it only as an addition to the national park, but for my students from different regions of Madagascar and myself, it’s become a fond familiar place. I feel happy when I’m recognized and greeted at the local hotely (small Malagasy restaurant) after not being there for a while. It has taken me several attempts and a lot of laughs to learn how to ask for the dish that I want; sometimes resorting to charades of the animal I’m attempting to eat.
​The Camp
My current research is largely focused on how forests regenerate in fragmented landscapes. The remaining forest surrounding regenerating forest fragments can influence regeneration outcomes directly, since they are the seed sources, but also indirectly, since they host the seed-dispersing species that can bring seeds to the regenerating sites. So, this means I work mostly outside of protected areas and have to cover vast extensions of land to reach the forest fragments; which means lots of hiking.
We started the hike on a spicy, bright sunny day and no shade nearby. My Vazaha identity is further reinforced with my REI outfit from head to toe, which contrasts starkly with everyone else’s. I feel over the top when I have to take off my boots to wade through the river while everyone else passes by barefoot or in flipflops flawlessly. I feel even more of a Vazaha when I’m all the way on the back of the group, struggling to carry my backpack under the scorching sun, while men from other villages swiftly pass me by, each carrying four jerry cans of toaka gasy (distilled liqueur artisanally produced in the mountains and sold in the city) for several kilometers.
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A rice field looking over Ranomafana
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Little kids of Bevoahazo peeking at our campsite
​After three hours of hiking, we made it to the village of Bevoahazo, tucked between two mountains. It’s a small village of about 50 adobe houses. The streets are not defined and don’t follow straight lines, so walking through the village gives you a feeling of going through a clay labyrinth. When we arrived, a bunch of kids huddled together shyly in the corner, looking at us while giggling. Many girls and women wear colorful straw squared hats that they wear over their two braids folded in a loop over their ears, while others style their braids in two buns near their forehead. We set up our tents within a house, and the kids could not love it more. They were watching every movement, every piece of gear, peeking through the door and the windows, and giggling. Such oddballs, we must be. Even after we finished setting up our tents, the kids kept looking at everything I did for hours. I sat down to read by the door, and they were just watching and giggling all along. Laughs exploded even more with every “Salama” (hello) I offered them or any failed communication attempt.
​When the sun set, we went to greet the elders of the village. The room was small and smoky and was only lit by the cooking fire in the corner. The floor was covered in palm mats, and the nine of us sat shoulder to shoulder either on the floor, the 10-cm tall stools, or the bed of the elder. I uttered the few words in Malagasy that I know. “Faly mahafantatra anao”: I’m happy to meet you. The rest of the conversation moved by through shadows and faces without me understanding. Kava, our field coordinator, translated to me that they were very happy to have us and to bring work to the village. I was also very happy we could be of help. They brought us voanjobory (a type of round bean that tastes like peanuts) and rice for dinner, and we went to bed.
​
The hike the next day started at the break of dawn on a foggy morning. It was going to be a long day since we needed to hike for 5 hours up the hill and 4 on our way down. As soon as we started the climb, it started pouring. Rainforests have very shallow soils, so once all the soil has been washed out, all you have left is clay. And when it’s raining and with nothing to grab on to, you slide down like a penguin in reverse. But after the miserable clay climb, things got much better. Ancient trees made a roof over our heads, and with the fog and the raindrops falling, it all felt peaceful. We came upon a group of red-fronted lemurs (Eulemur rufifrons) who didn’t seem to be much bothered by us. I love how they jump from tree to tree feet first. In Mexico, where I’m from, all the monkeys swing between branches; it’s all about the arms and the prehensile tails. But here is all about the legs and the feet. They jump speedily from tree to tree, grabbing the trunk between their feet, while they grunt at us like arboreal pigs.
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A red-fronted lemur (Eulemur rufifrons) with no fear of humans
​We finally made it to the plot, and we started preparing the equipment. I pulled out my slingshot to install the climbing system on a tree for the arboreal camera and began shooting. Some of the guides were looking at me, trying to understand what was going on. After a few attempts, I sat down to rest. Kava and one of the guides exchanged some words, and the next thing I knew was that the guide was climbing the tree barefoot and with no equipment, and passed the weight attached to the string to the other side of the branch (essentially what I was trying to do with the slingshot). Once again, the Vazaha with her useless equipment.
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The forest of Sakaroa
​Extinctions
We came back to Center Val Bio after a few days. The difference of waking up at a state-of-the-art research station full of international researchers feels so distant from the reality outside its doors. At the entrance of the building, they have a display case with bones and remnants of extinct animals. It feels like a kick to my chest. There it is: the skull of a giant lemur (Megadalpis edwardsi), extinct only about 1000 years ago. I can only imagine these beautiful and colossal creatures creeping on the huge trees I walked by. They also have a skull of a pigmy hippo (Hippopotamus lemerlei), also extinct about 1000 years ago. These beautiful Moo Dengs of the past would have been hanging out by the same streams and rivers that so often make their way inside my boots. They also have an egg and a femur of an elephant bird (Aepyornis maximus); a giant ostrich-looking bird three meters tall, also extinct about 1000 years ago.
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The display case with pieces of the past
There is still debate about how all these species went extinct. Through my eyes, it’s just the same old story we continue to live to this day. We find the same pattern all over the world, regardless of culture and time. Mastodons, saber-tooths, and camels became extinct in North America right after the first human settlements. Moas and Thylacines in Oceania. Giant sloths, Glyptodons, and Gomphotheres in South America. Not to mention the thousands of extinctions recorded in Europe, some as recent as last year. So, why would this case be any different?
​

I think it’s important to remember and take the time to grasp what we as a species are capable of. Both the good things and the bad ones. After all, the same pressures that drove those extinctions haven't disappeared. Those of us in cities may not be the ones holding the machete, but we sure are the system that makes it swing. And because we are capable of such massive effects on the planet, I know we are also capable of creating massive good. So, the question for me is not whether we caused those extinctions. The question is, do we have the determination to change?
​None of this would have been possible without our amazing field team and the landowners who have so kindly opened the doors of their homes to us. Thank you Kava, Prisca, Claude, Nirintsoa, and the thirty-some techs, guides and cooks, whose names deserve more space than a footnote.
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The dream team in Ranomafana!

Field Notes #16: Experiencing Madagascar through research

7/8/2026

 
Text by Ian Y Chan
I had an amazing time conducting research in Madagascar, and immersing myself in the rainforest helped me better visualize the organisms and ecological processes I had learned about. Along with Andrea, another undergraduate student, I went to Madagascar as part of a project studying the impacts of landscape structure on forest regeneration. The Geist and Rosberg Grant under the Center for African Studies funded my specific subproject, which focused on comparing the efficacy of various biodiversity survey methods (camera traps vs. Sherman traps vs. transect surveys) on various taxa. In addition, I sought to assess the consistency of camera traps within a single site, which can help determine the optimal number to deploy.
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Ring-tailed mongoose (Galidia elegans)
I was stationed at Centre ValBio for the majority of my stay, where we traveled to nearby forest patches in various stages of forest regeneration. During our first day at CVB, we went on an amazing tour of the rainforest, where we saw many charismatic lemur species, adorable red-tailed mongooses, and an impressively camouflaged satanic leaf-tailed gecko. I loved visiting the forest and witnessing the amazing biodiversity and vast number of endemic species. In the following days, we also saw a tree boa and a beautiful comet moth around CVB.
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Milne-Edwards's sifaka (Propithecus edwardsi)
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Satanic leaf-tailed gecko (Uroplatus phantasticus)
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Brown mouse lemur (Microcebus rufus)
In addition to day trips, we also camped at Ranomena for several days, which was a beautiful primary forest. Although it was my first time camping, Andrea and the field team gave great guidance and ensured the trip went as smoothly as possible. Each day in Ranomena, we conducted three bird surveys where we listened for birdsong along a transect route. For the camera trap subproject, we set up four ground and four arboreal cameras to run for a month. We also set up four ground and four arboreal Sherman traps each night, and we checked them in the morning for small mammals. It was a very valuable experience learning from the field team how to conduct biodiversity surveys, especially setting up camera traps, given how much camera-trapping data I work with in the lab. We also went on a night walk, where we saw many tiny tree frogs and fascinating arthropods. 
After returning to CVB, we embarked on a few lemur following trips, where we followed the Milne-Edward’s sifaka and the red-bellied lemurs. I had a lot of fun observing the lemurs’ behavior and running through the forest trying to follow them. We rounded out our trip by visiting Anja National Park, which was an incredible dry forest with breathtaking mountainous views. It was home to large groups of ring-tailed lemurs and many chameleons of a variety of colors. This was an incredible trip, and I am very grateful to Professor Razafindratsima and Sabine for organizing it. I learned so much, both from exploring the rainforest and from the field team and other researchers at CVB.
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Madagascan moon moth (Argema mittrei)
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Frog

Field Notes #12 - Adventures in forest regeneration at Marojejy National Park

3/16/2024

 
Text and photos by Kat Culbertson
PictureTeam Members Fetra and Edouard pose for a photo on the hike up to Marojejy Summit
​Breath-taking rainforest covered mountains. Clear, cool streams overflowing with tadpoles. Adorable tiny – and I mean tiny – chameleons. Treacherous, steep, muddy, vine-covered terrain. Skipping over slippery rocks on your way to ‘work’. Hiding away in a tent for two weeks at a time. Fending off leaches, wasps, and scorpions…
 
 
If this sounds like I’m describing a grand adventure, then fieldwork in eastern Madagascar may be right for you! While working in Madagascar across the past four years – both as a Peace Corps Volunteer and as an ecology researcher – I’ve had my fair share of both incredible highs and frustrating lows, but I’m excited to report that this last time around, I’ve had the best experience so far.


PictureIn the forest, sometimes the easiest path is a stream...
Starting in summer of 2023, I’ve been lucky enough to launch a project on rainforest regeneration at Marojejy National Park (with the aid of my advisors, my awesome collaborators at the Lemur Conservation Foundation, and three small fieldwork grants). This hyper-diverse reserve is a little patch of mountains – known as a massif – reaching across a 2,000 meter (6,000+ foot) gradient in the northeast corner of Madagascar. The park includes ecosystems ranging from lowland rainforest growing over 30 meters (100+ feet) tall to elevation-stunted dwarf topping out at 10 feet tall to alpine prairies. It is home to more than 2,000 plant species, 11 species of lemurs, and over 80 species of reptiles – just to name a fraction of its biodiversity. While scientific expeditions have been conducted in the park across 70 years, there is still little known about the vast majority of Marojejy’s species and the complex interactions between them. (In fact, one of the trees we snagged leaf samples from last year may be entirely new to science!)

PictureA millipede crawls over the stump of a tree illegally harvested for the precious timber trade
Unfortunately, this international treasure is not immune to the numerous anthropogenic disturbances that threaten biodiversity globally these days. Forests continue to be cleared in across the region – including the more remote reaches of Marojejy park itself – for expansion of cultivation, fuelwood, and timber products. Illegal extraction of precious woods – especially rosewood and ebony – for thirsty international markets also continues deep within the park, a vast reserve of over 50,000ha (193 square miles)  in which it’s easy to hide and challenging to patrol… due to a combination of challenging terrain, poor infrastructure, and lack of funding. Of course, climate change is also affecting the resiliency of the park’s forests and interactions between species across the region – in ways that we don’t know, especially given the lack of baseline data.


PictureKat (the author) and local botanical expert Mr. Edouard pose for a photo next to a giant strangler fig
A conservation situation as complex as this one necessitates a multi-pronged approach to ensure that ecosystems and the biodiversity they contain are preserved for future generations. One key aspect of ecosystem conservation, especially in the face of ongoing deforestation and legitimate demand for timber products, is forest restoration. While tree-planting is currently a hot topic – for its role in carbon sequestration, alongside biodiversity conservation – little is actually known about how to ensure that a scattered saplings develop into a functioning forest ecosystem. This process of natural forest regeneration hinges on a variety of factors that are influenced by specific ecosystems and context, including how degraded the site’s soil is, how far seed-producing trees are from the deforested site, and whether any seed-dispersing critters (such as lemurs and birds) are still around. The further away a restoration site is from the forest, the longer it’s been used by humans, and the more anthropogenic factors nearby that could create new disturbances, the more complicated forest regeneration becomes, and the more divergent trajectories it could take. Unfortunately, few of these trajectories may result in a forest resembling the original one!

The goal of restoration, or assisted natural regeneration, is to ensure forests are back on track to re-growing through eliminating some of the key barriers that are currently blocking the natural regeneration pathway. The relative importance of these barriers varies in different places and different ecosystems, and currently little is known about which ones are the most important to address in Madagascar.
 
Extensive regenerating areas in Marojejy, previously cleared and cultivated, but sitting within a matrix of primary rainforest and abandoned for 25+ years, present a unique opportunity to understand natural forest regeneration pathways and understand the most important barriers to restoration in this context.

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Thick, tall, non-forest vegetation still dominates most deforested areas in Marojejy
This past year’s fieldwork – the actual ‘work’ component of it – involved surveying various regenerating forest areas to assess the type and number of trees growing in them, and evidence for regeneration processes. While I’m still working through the data, the preliminary takeaway is unfortunately that even forests in more-ideal regeneration conditions need our help: Even after 60+ years post-abandonment, old fields in the park are simply thickets of tall herbaceous vegetation, with no or very few trees present. This is a phenomenon known as ‘arrested regeneration’, when an ecosystem gets ‘stuck’ at an early stage along its regeneration journey, and may remain there for decades without additional disturbances or interventions.
 
We’re not sure why this is happening at Marojejy, though it likely is governed by the balance of dispersal factors (are there enough animals around to disperse seeds into regenerating areas?) and competition factors (do herbaceous plants and/or vines grow faster than, and thus outcompete or strangle young trees?), as well as the underlying dynamics of climate change (is the climate simply less suited for forest recovery now than it was 50 years ago?). I’m currently en route back to the field, where I’ll be working with my team to set up an disentangling some of these factors. We hope that this project will inform future restoration and ecosystem management actions in this region and beyond.
​

Stay tuned for the next stages of this research journey!
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Our field team poses for a photo on a rainy day - from left to right: Kat, Richard, Fetra, Dezy, and Fred

Field notes #11

11/30/2023

 
Text by Fetratiana Rakotomanga
Before telling about our adventurous fieldwork, I want to say that I feel lucky to have this opportunity to work with my mentor Katherine Culbertson on the project. At first, I did not plan to apply at all because of the fear of not being capable, or not good enough for that type of project. 
​With the help and advice from my closest friends and my family, I decided to try and have no regrets for taking that opportunity, which has given me the chance to meet and work with extraordinary people.
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Fetra and local botanical expert Edouard pose with a waterfall on the hike to Marojejy’s summit (PC: Katherine Culbertson)
We began our wonderful way in Antananarivo (Tana), where I met my mentor and several other members of the Razafindratsima lab. These connections and planning meetings set a strong foundation to strengthen our knowledge, skills and experiences. Our fieldwork had two different parts, the first month was held at KAFS or Kianjavato Ahmason Field Station, Vatovavy region. The place was calm and peaceful. The friendly team we worked with made it more pleasant too. We had the chance to participate in one of their plantation events in a large gap surrounded by forest.
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KAFS reforestation coordinator Romuald demonstrates how to plant a sapling at a restoration site near Tsitola forest (PC: Katherine Culbertson)
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The day’s work is finished at the Tsitola restoration site
​The astonishing view from famous mountains such as Sangasanga and Vatolahy shows how the complex and interesting landscape might influence the vegetation, especially the view from the top of Vatovavy, the region’s namesake. That view was memorable. The 11th of August, we left Kianjavato, heading to Marojejy. 

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Landscape views from the top of Vatovavy mountain (PC: Fetra Rakotomanga)
​We were sad to leave the great team at Kianjavato but Marojejy National Park still held a special gift for us. ​
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Part of our field team (Fetra, Kat, Edouard, and Dezy) pose for a photo in Marojejy National Park (PC: Frederic Ramahavita)
The place changed but the good vibes remained as we worked with our botanist and local guides. I would like to take the chance to thank all of them – Dezy, Edouard, Fred, Richard, and Rabesahala - who helped us gain more experiences and skills. For example, I learned to identify some species by their distinctive characteristics, like “rara” with red sap like blood (“rara” means blood in Malagasy) and many more. They use vernacular names and morphologic criteria to identify the tree species, which contributes important value to scientific study. ​
I enjoyed the contrast between two weeks inside the humid forest and two days in the city of Sambava. Staying in the forest felt like spending two weeks in paradise, as our guide Dezy always says, and then we came back to the civilization again for two days for supplies. Do not let me forget to say that the song of the stream and all the birds near every camp that we have been in gave us sweet dreams after hard work. I can say that I loved our fieldwork! Thanks also to our collaborators at Lemur Conservation Foundation (LCF) who gave us magnificent days near the ocean when we were out of the forest. 
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Having a guide that is specialized in mammals and amphibians increased considerably our chance to see many endemic frogs like Mantella sp., Boophis sp.; reptile like Brookesia, almost all iconic birds and amphibians that Marojejy is known for, and also the “bokimbolo”: Hapalemur occidentalis that we can see very near at Camp 1. (Photo 6)
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The road became impassable for vehicles on the way to one of our Marojejy field sites, Andongozambe, so we hiked an extra 5km on foot (PC: Fetra Rakotomanga)
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A bokombolo (bamboo lemur, Hapalemur occidentalis) snacks on bamboo near Camp 1 in Marojejy (PC: Katherine Culbertson)
Before leaving the first site, we made the hike of 5.1 km and over 4,000ft in elevation to the “sommet” the two last days. On our way, we saw the Helmet Vanga : Euryceros prevostii. We spent a night in camp 3, a very cold and quiet camp it was. We did not feel very lucky arriving at the top with rain, but it was and will always be a part of the adventure and still we had a wonderful experience.

Sadly, during our fieldwork, we also witnessed many activities that threatened the ecosystem including forest clearance, wood harvesting and some lemur traps. These activities can have a huge impact on the biodiversity that the park shelters. Much work has been done before to try to prevent these illegal activities and conserve the forest, but there is still more to do, so we encourage you to stand with us for the sake of our nature. These ongoing threats to biodiversity show us up close how reforestation (the main research of my mentor) is important.
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Unfortunately, illegal harvest of precious woods, like this tapika tree, is not uncommon within the park (PC: Fetra Rakotomanga)
To wrap up, I want to thank my mentor first for all of the knowledge and skills that she taught me during the fieldwork, and for continuing to mentor me on the development of my research now. The guidelines she gave have helped me build the first criteria of being a scientist as I advance through the first big steps of my career. Second, a big thanks to Dr Onja Razafindratsima and her lab for their hospitality. I was quiet and a little shy at the beginning when I first met the lab, but they never made me feel outside the box. They are very open to everyone and close to each other, so that it does not feel like a lab but a scientific family where you can grow as a seed in a healthy community.
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Fetra enjoys a cup of tea in the forest (PC: Katherine Culbertson)
There is always a starting point for everyone but do not let that make you feel that you are not good enough. There will always be people who have already gone through your stage willing to help you, so I just want to say: “take the chance, give your best and enjoy”.
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