Jack’s Blog III - Conservation across continents
Wildlife conservation in the Rockies and Waiheke
Having spent much of my life in the rugged mountain landscapes of Colorado, wildlife conservation has always been a familiar theme. Our trash bins are secured with special locks to keep curious black bears from rummaging through alleyways. Massive interstate gates lower to allow elk herds safe passage along designated wildlife corridors. And fire prevention education is widespread, aimed at protecting the Rockies from devastating wildfires. Yet it wasn’t until I crossed the Pacific and began my time on the island with Te Korowai that I truly began to grasp how deeply place, culture, and history shape the practice of conservation.
At first glance, conservation efforts in both the United States and Aotearoa may seem quite similar. In either case, people fight both literally and figuratively to protect the ecosystems and species that sustain our lives. They’re surrounded by others who share a deep passion for the natural world. But as you dig deeper, the differences emerge. The stark contrast between the rugged, rocky peaks and lush, coastal forests reveals not just different landscapes, but entirely different stories of conservation.
Colorado – Preservation and Management
Back home in the Western States, conservation is often focused on protecting relatively untouched wilderness from fragmentation and exploitative practices. Some of our most notorious native species such as black bears, elk, mountain lions, and bighorn sheep all cover vast swathes of land in search of viable habitat, which has become increasingly shrunken. In the midst of the near 6 million human population, the land is dotted with several national parks, state-managed wildlife areas, and federally-protected forests.
Conservation efforts are often aimed at management and coexistence in particular. Mitigation of wildfires, protection of wildlife corridors, and balancing recreational access with habitat preservation are almost always key focuses. Due to our location at the center of the largest mountain range in North America, conservation in Colorado entails maintaining balance in a landscape that is already shared by hikers, skiers, other tourists, and ranchers.
Waiheke Island – Restoration and Eradication
As my time on Waiheke comes to a close, I’ve come to appreciate how deeply the island’s conservation efforts focus on healing—restoring what was lost after the introduction of countless pests like rats, hedgehogs, and the infamous stoats. One detail that struck me as especially distinct from Colorado’s ecosystems is the near-total absence of native carnivorous predators in Aotearoa. This absence only reinforces how critical and unique Waiheke’s conservation efforts are.
Restoration here—especially through the work of organizations like Te Korowai—is intensely hands-on and rooted in the local community. These projects simply wouldn’t thrive without the deep, sustained support of the people who live here—something I wish were more common back home. The goal isn’t merely to preserve what remains—it’s to rewind the clock and bring entire ecosystems back into balance. And this work doesn’t rely solely on government action. It’s powered by a remarkable blend of community care, Māori values and leadership, and an inspiring culture of volunteerism.
Conservation Aspect
Colorado vs Waiheke
Focus
Protecting habitat from development; managing co-existence of recreation and wildlife vs
Restoring native ecosystems and wildlife populations through predator eradication
Scale
Massive – over 24 million acres owned by federal government; 66.5 million acres in total land vs
Island-based – achievable goals centered around the community of the island itself
Key Threats
Habitat fragmentation, urban development, wildfires vs
Invasive mammals, habitat loss
Leadership
State agencies, federal agencies, non-profit NGOs vs
Community leadership, government organizations, iwi involvement
Public Engagement
Recreational education, trail maintenance, advocacy vs
Volunteer work, ecological monitoring
What we can learn from each other
Conservation is certainly an ever-evolving practice that is heavily shaped by both culture and context. Living in Colorado for over 10 years and in Waiheke these past couple of months has made me consider what each of these locations could implement from the other.
What Colorado can learn from Waiheke
Community-scale action: Large impacts don’t always require large-scale projects or oversight—smaller, tight-knit communities can get more done faster when focused on a particular issue
Integration of Indigenous knowledge: In the U.S., Indigenous communities can provide immense ecological knowledge and history (previously disregarded or outright destroyed) that could play a large role in land stewardship
Urgency and responsive action: Particularly in complete eradication work, timing is of the utmost importance. Focused, rapid strategies can shift ecosystems in notable ways, such as the 311% increase in Kākā counts since Te Korowai’s inception
What Waiheke might draw from Colorado
Fire ecology and risk management: As climate change increases fire risk globally, Colorado’s extensive history with controlled burns and fire-adapted forest might offer useful insight in case of disaster
Wildlife corridor management: While complete predator eradication is relatively efficient and vital on islands, longer-term reintroduction and wildlife programs might consider broader landscape-level thinking on the mainland
A Global Lens on Local Action
I came to Waiheke expecting to learn more about ecology, but I ended up learning just as much about people and purpose. Conservation isn’t just about the environment—it’s about how we relate to it. Whether it’s a trail volunteer in Colorado or a trapper deep in the Waiheke bush, the motivation is often the same: to protect what’s beautiful, fragile, and worth passing on.
What excites me most now is the idea of bridging these worlds. Sharing ideas, building global conservation literacy, and bringing the heart of Te Korowai’s work back home to Colorado—where maybe we can think a bit more deeply about not just the land, but our responsibility to it.
