REWILDING

Before us, there was no wild—everything simply was. Water rushed through springs untapped; greenery carpeted forest floors untrodden. In an age of technological ease, we’ve come to imagine that the word wild connotes inhospitable landscapes, creatures to fear, and untameable energy. But when we view the history of the world as a whole, we realize that wildness is neutral. It’s the default condition of humanity and of all life, that in the grand scheme of things, we’ve only just become alienated from. To be wild is to be self-determined, to be in a state of change, to accept the unknown.

The practice of rewilding is actually quite passive. It’s about relinquishing control—letting nature tend to its own wounds. There’s no set path to this process; no ecosystem is uniform. The main objective is to reverse humanity’s undue influence: introducing species that we made extinct, removing dams that restricted rivers, restoring the curves of farmed earth, cultivating ponds with local vegetation, and in between, doing nothing.

Photographer Laurence Ellis sought a closer look at the communities carrying out this vital work, taking to Argentina’s Patagonia Park and to Chile’s Cochamó Valley. Through his lens, he introduces beyond noise to the landscapes, wildlife, individuals, and organizations that sustain life across these South American regions, forging a path toward a future at one with the wild.

Julieta ullua Barrientos, a member of the Patagonia Park Argentina Explorers Program—a project dedicated to educating local youth. Taking to the trails that run through the Santa Cruz Province, its guides introduce members to biodiverse landscapes and wildlife species, hoping to inspire future conservationists.

The Explorers Program is created and funded by the Freyja Foundation, a private charitable organization working to protect, preserve, and renew wild places, with a particular emphasis on empowering local communities. Explorers, and other programs like it, are implemented by Rewilding Argentina, a nonprofit that purchases land and donates it to national parks, after restoring its ecosystems, developing wildlife corridors, and reintroducing native species.

Penguins account for half of the nitrogen and phosphorus deposits in the Antarctic—nutrients essential to life. As ice caps melt, concern grows amongst conservationists that the birds will soon go extinct. These rock shags cradle their eggs amidst rugged Patagonian cliffs, covered in guano—the amassed excrement and remains of seabirds, seals, and other animals. Guano is formed under the specific climatic conditions of the coastal deserts in the subtropical-edge high-pressure belt.

Guano removes the need for chemical fertilizer, the overuse of which presents a massive environmental concern: Over 80 percent of nitrogen used in modern agriculture ends up not in our food, but in our soil and water. This leads to algae blooms in lakes, reservoirs, ponds, rivers, and bays, which use up oxygen, suffocating marine species and creating dead zones that span miles. Guano is not just a green alternative—it’s also free. By putting a figure ($1.1 billion) to its industrial value, ecologists hope that public opinion will zero in on its importance and its practicality—a shift in mindset vital to fostering a nature-positive economy. Guano fertilizes our plants. It protects our coral reefs. It upholds our planet’s geology, from the dirt to the water to the air.

An abandoned lighthouse in Isla Leones. Close to a hundred
years old, it was once maintained by self-sufficient crews who lived there for weeks on end. This meant bringing along alien plants and species that would sustain them for long periods on the remote island. The newcomers quickly became invaders and threatened to destroy native flora and fauna—not just by taking resources, but also via allelopathy, the changing of the chemical balance of the soil.

The team at Patagonia Azul does on-the-ground conservation work, removing some of these alien species—rabbits, rats, seaweed, crabs—and conducting surveys of native wildlife like petrels and whales. The other half of their impact involves environmental advocacy, the erection of infrastructure, and collaboration with municipal governments and locals.

A sea lion scapula washed up onshore. Conservation efforts play a vital role in safeguarding the animal’s future in Argentina. Natural reserves, such as Patagonia Azul, have been established to protect their breeding grounds and surrounding ecosystems. Following several centuries of hunting for their fur and oil (they were also used for target practice by the Argentine military for many years), the Patagonian sea lion has greatly diminished in population. Nowadays, culls by fishermen and accidental entanglement in trawler nets continue to greatly reduce their numbers.

The Pinturas River, which runs through the canyon, provides water to herds of guanacos. This made the area attractive to ancient hunters, who depended on the llama-like mammals for their survival. Paleo-Indians accessed the canyon from higher elevations, tracking guanacos as they made their way through ravines and gorges from the east and west.
A footstep within the park. Just by existing, we are both part of nature and interfering with what may be described as our natural environment—a reminder to tread gently where we can.

Ignimbrites seen up close and from afar. Formed from deposits of pyroclastic flows—hot suspensions of particles and gasses that run rapidly from volcanoes, driven by the fact that they’re denser than the surrounding atmosphere—these rocks appear in shades of white, gray, pink, beige, brown, and black. The name comes from the Latin words for fire and rain, igni and imbri, respectively.

Cañadón Río Pinturas. The canyon is made of ignimbrite, among other volcanic rocks formed during the Jurassic Period, 201.3 million years ago. It was created through the erosion caused by the Pinturas River, which cut into the Chon Aike Formation to become what it is today.

These landscapes may appear barren at first glance, but actually host a rich and fragile ecosystem. Species have evolved here for thousands of years—from the carnivorous puma to the herbivorous guanaco. Humans have failed to coexist with both; livestock farming has shifted the patterns of native species in favor of the animals in our keep. Today, Rewilding Argentina works toward rational coexistence, introducing non-lethal techniques (livestock protection dogs, for instance) to protect farmers’ livelihoods and initiating scientific studies, among other efforts.

A solitary Magellanic penguin resting before its journey north, on a pilgrimage (sometimes as long as 4,000 miles) to warmer waters. These birds are among the most faithful of the animal kingdom; researchers found one couple that stayed loyal over a 16-year period, despite living thousands of miles apart over the durations of their winter trips.

In Patagonia’s waters, the Commerson’s dolphin dances—a creature marked by curiosity and grace. Commerson’s dolphins were hunted for their meat and oil, and more recently, as crab bait. Although these practices are now illegal, the animals are still often entangled in gillnets and other fishing gear.
Dolphins are incredibly quick learners. Their limbic systems—the part of the brain that processes emotion—appear more complex than our own. They display grief, joy, empathy, self-awareness, and problem-solving. The Commerson’s dolphin is particularly playful: small, chubby, and cone-shaped, but surprisingly nimble, leaping, spinning, and twisting in the shallows.
Lucas Beltramino, captain and Conservation Coordinator at Patagonia Azul.

Evaristo Santos Ortega, a guide along Patagonia Azul’s shores. Even though the coasts of Patagonia are among the most protected and untouched on our planet, nowhere can escape human-generated marine waste. An estimated 60 to 80 percent starts out on land. Much originates along the coast, but litter also finds its way to the ocean by way of storm drains and waterways. Once trash arrives in the ocean, it can travel thousands of miles, carried by currents and winds.

Remnants of a sea urchin off the coast of Patagonia Azul. The species’s survival is vital to maintaining balance within marine ecosystems. Sea urchins are responsible for grazing around 45 percent of algae living on coral reefs. Without them, the reefs become overgrown, limiting the growth of corals critical to coastal protection and preservation of biodiversity.

Alejandra Pereyra, a weaver from the town of Camarones, honoring Patagonia’s woolen heritage. One of Patagonia Azul’s objectives is to promote a conservation-oriented local economy, so residents may benefit from sustainable and purposeful work opportunities, becoming empowered protectors of their environment.

There is immense archaeological richness to Patagonia Park. In the Pinturas River basin alone, there are more than 80 identified dig sites. Some are located on the surface, like the paintings of the Cueva de las Manos. Others can be found in rock shelters, distributed throughout the landscape—showing the variety of territories groups have inhabited over thousands of years. At each site, scenes of life and testimonies to coexistence remain: herds of guanacos, lonely pumas, lesser rheas and their chicks, huemuls, and lizards.

In the Caracoles Canyon, several rewilding tasks are being carried out: the restoration of the reedbed, a humid habitat of great importance to this arid region; the recovery of the austral rail, a tiny and enigmatic bird believed to be extinct for almost 40 years, then rediscovered in 1998; the study of pumas; and the reintroduction of two rodents—the semiaquatic coypu and mountain-dwelling Wolffsohn’s viscacha. The recovery of these species means the return of their ecological role, opening up the path towards a more complete, healthy, and functional ecosystem.

Rocío Navarro, Community and Parks Coordinator of Patagonia Park, pictured with Alma Maciel, Angelina Sol Ortiz, Naiara Almendra, and Eluney Alvarez—four of the 287 children who’ve participated in the Patagonia Park Argentina Explorers Program. In this encounter, they climbed in the Caracoles Canyon for the first time, discovering a new way to enjoy and connect with their natural environment.