• Wildlife & Ecology
• Reforestation & Agroforestry
• Carbon & Climate Change

Jacqueline Tliemat, PhD candidate at Texas A&M, installing a camera trap in the canopy of an emergent tree in JCR.

Wildlife & Ecology

Canopy-based wildlife monitoring : TMA together with Dr. Shawn McCracken (Texas A&M Corpus Christi) and his students Jacqueline Tleimat and Rebecca Davis installed camera traps, acoustic recorders (AudioMoths), and climate sensors high in the canopy of trees to study local wildlife populations, with a focus on the critically-endangered Ecuadorian Capuchin Monkey, the Black Mantled Howler Monkey, and other internationally threatened species. To date, our team has analyzed over 220,000 images and documented over 100 species (see Wildlife Insights).

• Publication: Monitoring the habitat and spatial associations of two threatened primates along a conservation area in western Ecuador.

Bird banding specialist Holly Garrod and her team at work in JCR.

Reforestation & Agroforestry

Active reforestation vs passive natural forest restoration: TMA joined forces with esteemed restoration ecologists Dr. Rebecca Cole and Dr. Leland Werden, from the Crowther Lab at ETH Zurich, on a long-term reforestation study that compare the efficacy of active tree-planting versus natural restoration. The study is being conducted in nineteen sites across Colombia, Costa Rica, Ecuador, Mexico, Panama, and Peru. One of those sites is the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

Cacao-Based Agroforestry Demonstration Site: TMA has been experimenting with cacao varieties and growing methods since 2008. JCR currently contains the single largest repository of DNA-verified pure Ancient Nacional cacao in Ecuador—featured in Smithsonian Magazine. We actively manage 9 experimental cacao plots with 5 different types of Nacional cacao, and we closely track the genetics of every single plot. This work was the precursor to TMA’s Regenerative Cacao program with over 100 farmers in the region.

Biodiversity of agroforestry systems: Sophie Roberts from Yale University used remote sensing techniques to assess farm-level diversity metrics in JCR and across 30 regenerative cacao farms in the region.

• Publication: Incorporating drone imagery and field-data to access geographic and social drivers of agroforestry biodiversity in western Ecuador.

Professor Shawn McCracken with a research team member sorting through canopy camera gear in the Bamboo House.

Carbon & Climate Change

Aboveground Biomass Inventory: Researchers from the Universidad Técnica de Manabí and Macalester College conducted aboveground biomass inventories by combining ground-based tree species plot data with allometric equations, drone and satellite imagery, and machine learning algorithms.

Carbon assessment: The Landscapes and Livelihoods Group (TLLG) used satellite imagery to perform a land cover assessment and then applied the data from the aboveground biomass inventories (referenced above) to estimate the carbon value of the Jama-Coaque Reserve and the entire Capuchin Corridor.

Forest Carbon Ledger: After being treated to a front-row seat to the limitations of REDD+ carbon accounting, TMA developed an alternative forest carbon accounting methodology called the Forest Carbon Ledger (FCL). FCL avoids the biggest pitfalls of REDD+. Namely, it uses objective data rather than speculative projections and subjective counter-facturals. It calls for performance-based PES payments according to the total amount of CO2 stored in the forest, which is amortized in annual increments and paid ex-post.

Future Research Opportunities

Margay (Leopardus wiedii) captured on a camera trap in JCR.

The post Research Highlights from the Jama-Coaque Reserve appeared first on TMA.

JCR was created by Third Millennium Alliance (TMA) in 2007 and is managed in partnership with the community of Camarones. The goal is to expand JCR to 5,480 acres (2,218 hectares) by the end of 2026.

JCR is also the nucleus and key anchor point of the Capuchin Corridor, which covers 100,000 acres (40,000 hectares) along the coast of the Pacific Ocean between the towns of Jama and Pedernales in the province of Manabí, Ecuador.

Pronunciation Note: The “J” in Jama sounds like an “H”—just like in the Spanish name Jose or the word Jalapeño. Jama-Coaque is pronounced Hama Koh-Ah-Kay. It’s actually a fun word to say. The acronym (JCR) is also commonly used.

At a Glance

• Current area: 2,900 acres (1,172 hectares)
• Location: Municipality of Jama, province of Manabí, coastal Ecuador
• Coordinates: -0.115098°, -80.121154°
• Founded: 2007
• Management: Third Millennium Alliance (TMA) in partnership with the community of Camarones
• Elevation range: 548 – 2,290 feet (178 – 698 meters) above sea level
• Topography: mountainous
• Forest types: premontane premontante cloud forest and seasonal moist evergreen forest
• Global Biodiversity Hotspot: Tumbes-Chocó-Magdalena
• Ecotone: Choc
• Bioregion: Pacific Forest of Ecuador
• Ecoregion: NT0178 Western Ecuador moist forests

The Jama-Coaque Reserve in the Pacific Forest of Ecuador.

Contents

• Ancient History
• Creation of the Jama-Coaque Reserve
• Funding & Technical Partners
• Geography
• Hydrology
• Climate
• Biodiversity Hotspot
• Ecoregion
• Cloud Forest
• Moist Forest
• Endangered Species Designations
• Research
• Agroforestry & Cacao
• Reserve Management
• Capuchin Corridor

The Bamboo House at golden hour (circa 2019).

Ancient History

The Jama-Coaque Reserve is named in honor of the ancient civilization (posthumously named Jama-Coaque) that thrived in this region from 355 BCE to 1532 CE. Tragically, the Jama-Coaque culture abruptly collapsed and almost entirely disappeared immediately following the arrival of Spanish explorers. No written or oral records from their culture have survived, but historians surmise that most Jama-Coaque settlements were concentrated at the base of the mountains close to the sea, whereas the rugged forested land that is now JCR was primarily used as wild hunting grounds.

The Jama-Coaque people did, however, leave behind an abundance of ceramic sculptures and iconography, which is well-regarded by archaeologists and art historians. Pieces of clay pots and other ancient artifacts from their civilization have been unearthed in the area surrounding the Bamboo House.

Clay pot from the ancient Jama-Coaque civilization unearthed in JCR in 2024.

Creation of the Jama-Coaque Reserve

In 2007, Isabel Dávila, Jerry Toth, and Bryan Criswell co-founded the Ecuador-based nonprofit conservation organization Third Millennium Alliance (TMA). Later that same year, they were introduced to the land that is now the Jama-Coaque Reserve (JCR). At the time, it was forested land that was owned by absentee owners and effectively abandoned. The three co-founders raised $16,000 from friends and family to purchase a 100-acre property at the very top of the mountain, where they spent the next few months living in tents, learning the land, and meeting their neighbors.

The following year, they purchased three more properties. On one of those properties, they began building a research station constructed primarily with native bamboo sourced from the site and using only hand tools. The research station—affectionately named the Bamboo House—became JCR’s field headquarters and visitor lodge. They, along with friends and other early visitors, planted a food forest with 50 different species of fruit trees in the one-hectare area of land immediately surrounding the house.

Over the years, both JCR and TMA continued to steadily grow. Thus far, TMA has purchased and integrated into JCR a total of 30 different properties, all of which were previously owned by absentee landowners, most of whom didn’t even live in the same region. As of 2025, JCR covers nearly 3,000 acres (1,200 hectares).

You can read the entire origin story of JCR in How We Made a Rainforest Preserve.

Funding & Technical Partners

The people and institutions that have been the most important in the creation, expansion, and ongoing management of the Jama-Coaque Reserve are the Richard and Nancy Arnoldy Foundation, IUCN-Netherlands, the “5-year Sponsorship” Group, Saving Nature, the world-renowned muralist Youri Cansell (aka Mantra), the artisanal design company Craftspring, and the Capuchin Collective, with invaluable support and guidance provided by Lookfar Conservation.

Overall, several hundred sponsors, reseachers, interns, and other professionals have financially and technically supported the Jama-Coaque Reserve over the years, both from within Ecuador and abroad.

Bamboo House research station in the Jama-Coaque Reserve (2024).

Geography

Across the entire length of coastal Ecuador, there are three major mountain ranges. The Mache-Chindul mountain range occupies the rainforested northern coast. The Chongon-Colonche mountain range is located in the mostly dry and semi-deciduous southern coast. The Jama-Coaque mountain range is located between the two, in the northwest corner of the province of Manabí. It represents the ecological transition between those two vastly different iterations of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador.

The Jama-Coaque mountain range is also the only stretch of coastal mountains where the peaks reach their zenith within a mere 8 kilometers of the sea. This elevational gradient, combined with its position at the midpoint of the Choco-Tumbes transition zone, has the effect of compressing an extraordinary degree of ecological diversity into a relatively small area.

Hydrology

JCR protects the entirety of the headwaters of the Camarones River, as well as the headwaters of numerous other small rivers and streams that support five agricultural communities, including Camarones, Tabuga, Estero Seco, Aguas Frias, and Purichime. All rivers empty out into the Pacific Ocean.

Waterfall in the Camarones River (Jama-Coaque Reserve)

Climate

The Jama-Coaque Reserve (JCR) is subject to a tropical monsoon climate, which is primary driven by two Pacific Ocean currents that clash immediately offshore. Typically starting in late December, a change in atmospheric pressure shifts ocean currents so that warm waters from the El Niño current come closer to shore and displace the cold waters of the Humboldt current. The result is warmer air temperatures and heavy rainfall that peaks in February and March and can linger into May and June. The dry season, which generally begins in June or July and can last into December or January, is characterized by cooler temperatures and more overcast skies.

The weather station at the Bamboo House records an average daily temperature range of 22–28°C (72–83°F) in the rainy season and 20–26°C (68–78°F) in the dry season. The year-round average temperature is 74°F (23°C).  

Annual rainfall in the lowland moist forest surrounding the Bamboo House ranges between 800-2,200 mm, with an average more in the range 1,000-1,500 mm. The total annual water intake of the cloud forest, however, is estimated to consistently exceed 2000 mm, owing to fog drip. Fog drip is the process by which vegetation strips moisture from clouds that shroud the mountain peaks, condensing it into water droplets that fall to the forest floor.

Cloud forest along the peaks of the in Jama-Coaque Reserve

Biodiversity Hotspot

The great Chocó rainforest runs along the Pacific coast of Colombia and extends into northwestern Ecuador, bounded by the western slopes of the Andes and the peaks of the coastal mountain range. The Colombian Chocó is among the wettest rainforests on earth. It competes with the upper Amazon as the most biodiverse place on earth.

As the Chocó moves southward into coastal Ecuador, it gradually transitions into the moist evergreen forests of Manabí until it is eventually subsumed by the dry and deciduous “Tumbiesian” forests of Santa Elena and Guayas, which ultimately extends as far as northern Peru.

The global conservation community has named this area the Tumbes-Chocó-Magdalena Biodiversity Hotspot. It describes the wildly dynamic ecoregion that stretches from the ultra-wet Chocó rainforest on the coast of Colombia to the Tumbesian dry forests on the northern coast of Peru.

The Pacific Forest of Ecuador is the central part of this biodiversity hotspot and contains within it both the wet and dry extremes, and many gradients in between. It is, thus, a medley of different types of tropical forests. To see what we mean, check out our Photo Tour of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador.

The Jama-Coaque Reserve (JCR), located in the heart of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador, is the geographic and ecological midpoint between the Chocó and Tumbes extremes. This effect is accentuated by the sharp elevational gradients created by the rugged topography of the coastal mountain range. At higher elevations, JCR represents the southern-most extension of the coastal Chocó wet forest. At the base of the mountain (less than a kilometer below the lower limits of JCR), Tumbesian deciduous forest is present.

Chocó toucan (Ramphastos brevis)

Ecoregion

The Ecuadorian Coastal Forests & Flooded Grasslands bioregion is part of the Andes & Pacific Coast sub-realm in South America and is comprised of five ecoregions. One of them is called “NT0178 Western Ecuador moist forests,” which describes the Jama-Coaque Reserve (JCR). Interestingly, the official ecoregion map, published by One Earth and World Species, incorrectly places JCR just outside the border of NT0178 and instead places it inside the ecoregion named “NT0214 Ecuadorian dry forest.”

This understandable oversight serves to highlight the dramatic ecological transitions that occur across short distances in coastal Ecuador. These shifts are driven largely by elevation changes along the coastal mountains. In the Jama-Coaque mountains, the upper elevations are best classified as part of the “NT0178 Western Ecuador moist forests” ecoregion, while the lower elevations, extending down to the shores of the Pacific Ocean, are more consistent with the “NT0214 Ecuadorian dry forest” ecoregion. The ecological transition between these two ecoregions typically occurs between 650 and 950 feet (250 to 300 meters) above sea level.

The rich and complex ecological mosaic of coastal Ecuador is the reason why most conservationists in the region prefer the term Pacific Forest of Ecuador. This term invites all of the many different types of forest in this bioregion (including Chocó rainforest and cloud forest, moist seasonal evergreen forest, semi-deciduous forest, Tumbesian dry forest, and coastal mangrove forest) under one roof. Remarkably, all of those forest types can be encountered along the Jama-Coaque mountains, which is where all of these forests converge. JCR, which occupies the upper elevational half of the mountains, is premontane cloud forest and moist seasonal evergreen forest. The Regiones Naturales de Ecuador classification system by Pontificia Universidad Católica del Ecuador (PUCE) classifies both of these forests as Bosque Húmedo Tropical del Chocó (Chocó tropical rainforest).

Cloud forest in the Jama-Coaque Reserve

Premontane Cloud Forest

The Jama-Coaque Reserve (JCR) includes two different types of “Chocó” tropical forest. The peaks of the mountain, which are often shrouded by a thick blanket of fog, are characterized by premontane cloud forest.

It is, in a very real sense, a forest that is fed by the clouds. Almost all visible surfaces are covered in bright green vegetation of many different forms. The forest floor is carpeted with ferns, tree trunks are encased in moss, and epiphytes, orchids, and bromeliads hang from the branches. All of the above is watered on an hourly basis by clouds of fog that float up from the Pacific Ocean and condense into water droplets on the leaves of the trees. The droplets then drip down into the soil and form the basis of the waterways that sustain the life of all animals downstream—humans included.

Strangler Fig (Ficus sp.) in the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

Moist Seasonal Evergreen Forest

The elevation range of the cloud forest is 1,700-2,200 feet (515-698 feet) above sea level. At around 1,700 feet (515 meters), the vegetation transitions to what is most accurately called moist seasonal evergreen forest.

The terminology deserves a brief explanation. In their seminal 1991 report “Biological Extinction in Western Ecuador,” the famous botanical duo C.H. Dodson and A.H. Gentry referred to the mid-elevational forest of JCR as “moist forest.” This term was also used by the renowned cast of ecologists who authored another seminal report about the Pacific Forest of Ecuador, which was spearheaded by Conservation International, titled “Status of Forest Remnants in the Cordillera de la Costa.”

A few decades later, a team of national botanists in Ecuador, who were given the mission to classify every single forest type in the country, officially classified JCR’s lowland forest as “seasonal evergreen forest of the Pacific Equatorial coastal mountain range.” This term is certainly more descriptive, but not always practical in conversation. The authors of the Regiones Naturales de Ecuador, meanwhile, classify JCR’s moist forest as “Chocó rainforest.”

In this confusing miasma of forest terminology, the formal term we prefer is “moist seasonal evergreen forest.” In less formal occasions, we often simply use Dodson and Gentry’s term: “moist forest.”

The moist forest is an entirely different world than the cloud forest, even though the transition between the two is often less than 75 meters of elevation difference. The vegetation is evergreen like the cloud forest, but there’s a wider range of color tones, and there is also a somewhat different range of species. The trees are generally taller here, relative to the cloud forest. The canopy of the moist forest is formed by giant native trees like strangler figs, some of them reaching heights of 45 meters (150 feet), often with massively buttressed roots. Other trees, like Moral Fino (Maclura tinctoria) have wood that is so dense that it’s impossible to pound a nail into it without first greasing the nail with vegetable oil.

There is also a wealth of exotic palm trees, some of which have trunks armed with needles like a porcupine. Another endemic palm tree known as tagua (Phytelephas aequatorialis) produces nuts that taste like coconut when ripe but then later harden into the color and consistency of ivory. Stands of giant bamboo (Guadua angustifolia) intermingle with rubber trees (Castilla elastica) that ooze white latex when injured. Threading through this steep and rugged landscape are countless little streams that tumble down boulder-strewn slopes, alternating between waterfalls and quiant little swimming holes that are teaming with freshwater prawns. The water in these streams is so pristine that you can drink it straight from the river.

All of this exists under the watchful eyes of loud-mouthed troops of howler monkeys, critically endangered Ecuadorian capuchin monkeys, long and powerful members of the weasel family with yellow heads called tayras, and wild felines like ocelots and margays that are rarely seen except in pictures taken by infrared trail cameras fitted with motion sensors.

Margay (Leopardus wiedii) photographed on a camera trap in the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

Endangered Species Designations

The Jama-Coaque Reserve is designated as both a “Species Rarity Site” and “High Biodiversity Area” on Global Safety Net, an open-source science initiative that identifies “conservation imperative” sites that “harbor irreplaceable biodiversity.”

According to BirdLife International’s system of Key Biodiversity Areas (KBAs)—formerly known as Important Bird Areas (IBAs)—JCR is part of KBA “Bosques de Jama-Coaque en Manabí.”

Among the long list of endangered and threatened species that inhabit JCR, some of the more notable species include the Ecuadorian capuchin monkey (Cebus aequatorialis), which is listed as critically endanged on the IUCN Red List; birds like the gray-back hawk (Pseudastur occidentalis) and Chocó woodpecker (Dryobates chocoensis), which are listed as endangered on the IUCN Red List; the Mache glass frog (Cochranella mache), which is listed as critically endangered on the Ecuadorian Red List, and numerous critically-endangered plants and trees, including the rare hardwood species known locally as Amarillo (Centrolobium ochroxylum), which TMA is widely reproducing through its Regenerative Agroforestry program with local farmers.

Mache glass frog (Cochranella mache) in the Jama-Coaque Reserve. Photo by Paolo David Escobar.

Research

Over the years, numerous biologists, ecologists, and agroforestry practitioners have conducted research in and around the Jama-Coaque Reserve (JCR). Check out Research Highlights from the Jama-Coaque Reserve to learn more.

Agroforestry and Ancient Nacional Cacao

TMA has been experimenting with cacao varieties and growing methods in agroforestry micro plots in JCR since 2008. Most notably, JCR currently contains the single largest repository of DNA-verified pure Ancient Nacional cacao in Ecuador, which it developed in partnership with To’ak Chocolate.

In total, TMA actively manage 9 experimental cacao plots with 5 different types of Nacional cacao in JCR, all of which were planted on land that was formerly developed for agroforestry by the previous landowners. All of these cacao plots collectively occupy a total of 5.2 hectares (13 acres) of land, although only 3.5 hectares (8.6 acres) are actively managed. This represents 0.3% of the total area of JCR.

The cacao varieties managed in these experimental plots are the same genetic varieties that TMA distributes to farmers throughout the Capuchin Corridor in its Regenerative Cacao program—featured in Smithsonian Magazine and Mongabay.

Dany Murillo (Reserve Manager) harvesting a cacao pod in the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

Reserve Management

The Jama-Coaque Reserve (JCR) is a private reserve established by the nonprofit conservation organization Third Millennium Alliance (TMA) and managed in partnership with the community of Camarones. TMA’s operating entity is incorporated in Ecuador under the name TMA-Ecuador. TMA is also incorporated in the U.S. as a 501c3 organization to facilitate international fundraising efforts. The president of TMA-Ecuador is Carla Rizzo from Quito. The executive director of TMA-US is Ryan Lynch from Fremont, California.

Food forest/regenerative agroforestry demostration site surrounding the Bamboo House

Bamboo House

The headquarters of JCR is the Bamboo House Research Station, which is fully off-the-grid but equipped with solar power, satellite internet, and the purest spring-fed water that you’ve ever tasted. The Bamboo House, along with the adjacent “Casita,” has a total of 8 bedrooms that can sleep up to 22 people.

View from the balcony of the Bamboo House at dusk.

Capuchin Corridor

The Capuchin Corridor is a conservation initiative to protect one of the largest and least protected remnants of the Pacific Forest. It aims to connect the Jama-Coaque Reserve (JCR) to another forest preserve called Cerro Pata de Pájaro (PDP), which TMA also manages in partnership with local communities. This will create a contiguous 35,000-acre (14,000-hectare) rainforest preserve that spans the 27-mile (43-km) mountain range between the coastal towns of Jama and Pedernales at 0° latitude. It literally straddles both hemispheres, with the equator line passing through the center of it. 

The total area of the Capuchin Corridor, which includes the homes and farms of 38 rural communities that are participating in the project, is 100,000 acres (40,000 hectares).

TMA is building the Capuchin Corridor in partnership with local communities through its Community Forests Program (in Spanish, Bosques Comunitarios). It’s a framework that provides local communities with a financial incentive to actively protect the forest in their own watersheds.

The Capuchin Corridor is named in honor of the critically endangered Ecuadorian Capuchin Monkey, a species that depends on this ecosystem for its continued existence.

The post The Jama-Coaque Reserve appeared first on TMA.

TMA’s Community Forests Program is a realistic pathway to creating and managing a 35,000-acre (14,000-hectare) rainforest conservation corridor in the Pacific Forest of Ecuador.

It equips communities with the tools and financial incentives to sustainable manage the forests in their own watersheds. This will protect and restore one of the last major remnants of the most endangered tropical forest in the world. It’s also an opportunity to revolutionize how NGOs and local communities work together to conserve tropical forests.

Key Features

• Viable pathway to creating the Capuchin Corridor in Ecuador.
• Potential to protect and restore 35,460 acres (14,350 hectares) of rainforest.
• Replaces fortress conservation with a decentralized and participatory approach to conservation. 
• Network of 23 forest preserves created by TMA and managed as land easements by local communities throughout the corridor.
• Organized by watersheds, which is how communities have always geographically organized themselves in this region.
• Draws from the “life plan” framework used by indigenous communities in the Amazon, aimed at outlining and executing a long-term vision for sustainable development and resource stewardship.
• Sturdy guard rails provided by a strong legal framework with tight management and budgetary parameters—aimed at ensuring proper use of funds and faithful execution of project activities. 
• Fueled by performance-based financial incentives. Funds are only released when project goals are achieved—consistent with the Project Finance for Permanence (PFP) model.
• Results are monitored and verified by satellite imagery and other objective metrics—consistent with Terrasos protocol for biodiversity crediting.
• This is a scalable model that can be replicated throughout the tropics.

Local park ranger Pablo Bermudez in the old-growth cloud forest of Cerro Pata de Pájaro.

Contents

• Project Area
• Why Community Forests?
• A Conservation Model for the 21st Century
• How It Works
• Process for Establishing Community Forests
• Community Management with TMA Guidance & Oversight
• Investing in the Future
• Scalable Model That Can Be Replicated
• Budget Summary
• Funding Pathways
• Project Finance for Permanence (PFP)
• Third Millennium Alliance (TMA)

Project Area

The Pacific Forest of Ecuador is the most endangered tropical forest on earth: less than 5% remains. It sits at the heart of the Tumbes-Chocó-Magdalena global biodiversity hotspot. 

The Capuchin Corridor is a conservation initiative to protect one of the largest and least protected remnants of the Pacific Forest. It aims to connect the Jama-Coaque Reserve to two other protected forest preserves. This will create a contiguous 35,000-acre (14,000-hectare) rainforest preserve that spans the 27-mile (43-km) mountain range between the coastal towns of Jama and Pedernales at 0° latitude. It literally straddles both hemispheres, with the equator line passing through the center of it. 

The Capuchin Corridor is designated as both a “Species Rarity Site” and “High Biodiversity Area” on Global Safety Net, an open-source science initiative that identifies “conservation imperative” sites that “harbor irreplaceable biodiversity.”

The Capuchin Corridor is named in honor of the critically endangered Ecuadorian Capuchin Monkey, a species that depends on this ecosystem for its continued existence.

Why Community Forests?

The so-called Fortress Conservation model is a top-down approach that excludes local communities from the process. It’s outdated not only because it’s ethically problematic; it’s also risky and inefficient.

• Risky because local communities lack an incentive to support and comply with conservation projects. There’s no buy-in; on the contrary, there is often resentment and the potential for persistent conflict.
• Inefficient because the centralized authority (whether it’s a government or an NGO) is tasked with managing distant areas that it doesn’t know as intimately as local communities do.

A Conservation Model for the 21st Century

The Community Forests Program (in Spanish, Bosques Comunitarios) integrates local communities in the conservation process and provides them with a financial incentive to actively protect the forest in their own watersheds. In other words, they have skin in the game. This reduces the risk of local actors undermining conservation goals and also reduces the resource strain on NGOs or governments. It’s a decentralized and participatory approach to forest conservation. We believe it’s the wave of the future.

How It Works

The Community Forests Program empowers local communities to protect and manage large tracts of native forest in their own watersheds. 

• Under TMA’s guidance, each community creates a local governing body—called a Community Trust—through a local democratic election process. The Community Trust is composed of local community members but girded by a specific framework with tight parameters.
• TMA and the Community Trust then jointly create a Community Forest Preserve at the headwaters of their own watershed. TMA purchases the land and then grants a conditional land easement to the Community Trust.
• The Community Trust is responsible for protecting the Community Forest Preserve—albeit with extensive support and oversight by TMA.
• The Community Forest Preserve is sustained by annual funding incentives that are tied to objective performance measures. Funding only continues if the forest remains intact.

The Camarones Watershed – emblematic of geo-social organization in the Capuchin Corridor – provides the template for TMA’s Community Forest Program.

Process for Establishing Community Forests

• The Community Trust indicates to TMA the properties it wishes to include in its Community Forest Preserve.
• Priority is given to contiguous forested properties at the headwaters of each watershed and along the upper elevations of the coastal mountain range. Riparian areas can also be included.
• TMA offers a standardized market price to the owners of selected properties, purchasing only those in which a fair deal is made.
• TMA places a conservation easement on the land, legally requiring it to be conserved in perpetuity.
• TMA empowers the Community Trust to protect and actively manage the Community Forest Preserve through a management agreement. 

Community Management with TMA Guidance & Oversight

• TMA provides funding to the Community Trust to 1)  actively protect their forest preserve, and
  2)  invest in education and socio-economic improvements for the community as a whole. This framework draws from the “life plan” framework used by indigenous communities in the Amazon, aimed at outlining and executing a long-term vision for sustainable development and resource stewardship.
• Funding disbursements are only made if the forest remains intact and all management provisions are adhered to. This provides the community with the funding and financial incentive to protect their own forest and, in turn, their supply of freshwater.
• The Community Trust, operating within strict parameters, decides how funds should be distributed and then implements the activities that are funded.
• The use of funds is carefully audited and transparently reported to all stakeholders, including the funders and the community at large.
• TMA guides the Community Trust at every step of the process. A greater share of management responsibilities are transferred to the Community Trust as it gains experience and demonstrates success over time.

TMA’s Director of Community Programs, Carla Rizzo, with the next generation of conservation leaders in Camarones.

Investing in the Future

The Community Forests Program is predicated on the following understandings and approach:

• The future of the Capuchin Corridor ultimately rests in the hands of the people who live there.
• Conservation is easier when local communities are engaged and committed to its success.
• Conversely, communities that are poor, uneducated, and disengaged represent the biggest risk to long-term forest stewardship.
• The Community Forests Program will invest in the next generation of local conservation leaders and in the community as a whole.
• This means improving quality of and access to education at all levels.
• It could also include modernizing IT and energy infrastructure through satellite internet and off-grid solar energy.
• It also means strengthening local governance structures and capacity.
• This is not an overnight process; the program we build today is aimed at achieving long-term and sustainable forest conservation for many generations to come.

Scalable Model That Can Be Replicated

• The Community Forests Program draws inspiration from the Land Trust model in the US, AESMO’s community-based watershed conservation model in Honduras, and the conservation funding model known as Project Finance for Permanence (PFP) in Costa Rica, Brazil, and Canada.
• The key features of our model are a strong legal framework combined with tight management parameters and performance-based incentives.
• The framework, parameters, and incentive system can be replicated in other regions of Ecuador and throughout the rural tropics, wherever conditions are optimal.
• Optimal conditions for this model are areas with relatively low population density and relatively high percentage of land area that contains forest and/or unproductive agricultural land ripe for restoration. Preferably in a global biodiversity hotspot.
• It requires an NGO with proven field experience combined with willing local communities and a long-term funding source.

For a deeper dive into the carbon numbers, refer to the Carbon Assessment of the Capuchin Corridor.

Budget Summary

• Years 1-2 (2025-2026): $3.6 million
• Years 3-5 (2027-2029): $8.6 million
• Years 5-10 (2030-2034): $18.3 million
• Total 10-year establishment cost (2025-2034): $30.5 million
• Total establishment cost per acre (2025-2034): $983
• Annual cost after year 10 (2035 onward): $1.03 million

*Monetary values are in US$

Funding Pathways

• Capuchin Collective is a private group of philanthropists that are dedicated to funding the creation of the Capuchin Corridor. Members sponsor the purchase of specific properties, TMA places a conservation easement on the properties, and communities manage them as community forest preserves—albeit with TMA’s close guidance and oversight.
• Carbon or biodiversity credits generate revenue that is invested in the purchase of land for community forest preserves and covers ongoing management costs.
• Endowment fund funded through grants, philanthropists, the Capuchin Collective, and/or a PFP. It’s not enough to simply purchase the land. Management is long-term and funding needs to be sustainable.
• Project Finance for Permanence (PFP): see below.

Chocó cloud forest at the headwaters of the Camarones watershed in the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

Project Finance for Permanence (PFP)

The PFP approach was conceived in 2011 by a group of conservationists, former bankers, and management consultants who imported ideas from the mainstream financial sector to create a new model to protect and finance large ecosystems over the long term. 

It was built from experiences and lessons learned from three successful large-scale conservation initiatives: Amazon Region Protected Areas (ARPA) in Brazil, Forever Costa Rica, and the Great Bear Rainforest in Canada. PFP is a “performance-based” conservation model tied to financial incentives. The Community Forests Program adheres to this framework. Features include: 

• A large-scale, specific, and charismatic conservation goal (in our case, building the Capuchin Corridor).
• A plan that details all activities to achieve and maintain the goal (Community Forests Program).
• A long-term funding plan to cover all costs and sustain the conservation goal for at least 20 to 30 years. (“Permanence” is the core objective.)
• A clear set of annual disbursement conditions or milestones that must be met by implementing partners in order for funds to be released at each stage. (Funding based on performance.)
• The disbursement conditions act as an incentive for all partners (both TMA and Community Trusts) to uphold the mutually agreed vision over time. Incentives are crucial for aligning interests and sustaining long-term commitment.

Ecuadorian Capuchin Monkey {Cebus aequatorialis) is listed as Critically Endangered on the IUCN red list. The Capuchin Corridor is one of the last remnants of its native habitat. Photographed in the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

Third Millennium Alliance (TMA)

TMA has been working to protect and restore the last remnants of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador since 2007. We created the 3,000-acre (1,200-hectare) Jama-Coaque Reserve with the community of Camarones, and we jointly manage the 10,706-acre (4,333-hectare) Cerro Pata de Pájaro Reserve with another community conservation organization. 

The Capuchin Corridor would connect these two protected areas, spanning a 43-km-long mountain range in coastal Ecuador. TMA’s Community Forest Program is a viable pathway to achieve this objective. 

TMA’s work has been featured in Smithsonian Magazine and Mongabay. TMA is a nonprofit conservation organization registered in both Ecuador and the United States.

Cascada Grande “double waterfall” in the Jama-Coaque Reserve

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In 2012, we were given the opportunity to reforest 89 acres of cattle pasture. Today, that property is densely forested with a canopy height over 60 feet tall—and growing taller every year. But it didn’t quite happen the way we expected. Our initial approach was flawed.

A few years later, we were tasked with reforesting a 188-acre property that had recently been clear-cut to harvest balsa. Again, we got a similar result: the forest rapidly recovered, but in a way that surprised us.

Thus began a sequence of reforestation projects in the Pacific Forest of Ecuador that fundamentally transformed our understanding of what it means to reforest land.

At the core of this understanding is nature’s ability to heal itself. The corollary to this understanding is the revelation that planting trees is not the key to reforestation—especially when it comes to cattle pasture, which is notoriously challenging.

It took us about 20,000 seedlings, and a few seasons of slopping around in the mud, to learn that lesson. We were making the same mistake that many token reforestation projects do—which is to attack the problem the way your average military general approached warfare in the 19^th century, in which soldiers blindly march into the direct fire of the opposing army.

The trick is to let Mother Nature drive the process. Deforested land wants to be forest. All it needs are the right conditions for recovery. That is the secret to the whole thing.

Thus far, we’ve reforested over 427 acres across ten different reforestation projects over the course of 15 years in coastal Ecuador. By “we”, I mean a group of people in partnership with Mother Nature. Below are some of the most important lessons we’ve learned throughout that process.

1. After-care is more important than planting.
2. Methodology is determined by initial conditions.
3. Mother Nature is better at planting trees than humans are.
4. Harness the power of natural forest succession.
5. Think about what to subtract before thinking about what to add.
6. Weeds are your best friend.
7. Your friendship with weeds is conditional.
8. ANR is the best bang for your buck.
9. Apply the principles of judo to reforestation.

As a companion piece to this article, you can also refer to our catalogue of reforestation methods, which provides a brief explanation of all eleven different reforestation methodologies that we’ve put to use since 2008.

Note: this article primarily discusses native forest restoration. For more about our extensive work in regenerative agroforestry, check out Smithsonian Magazine’s feature article about our regenerative cacao project (“The Quest to Save the World’s Most Coveted Chocolate“) our own article on the same subject (“How TMA and To’ak are Using Chocolate to Restore the Rainforest“).

The “A Block” of the 87-acre cattle pasture property before planting vs today. (Finca de Madera)

Lesson #1: After-care is more important than planting

After-care is not only an important part of love-making and psychedelic therapy. It’s also a critically important feature of any reforestation project. Unfortunately, it’s also the feature that is most often ignored or underestimated.

In the grand scheme of most forest restoration projects, planting trees is only a small part of the work that needs to be done. In most cases, planting is merely one of the first steps in a multi-year process of caring for the trees until they can fend for themselves.

Underestimating the importance of after-care is one of the biggest problems with some of the feel-good tree-planting programs associated with retail carbon offset platforms or corporate sponsorships. It’s easy to pop a seed or even a seedling, into the ground. If that’s all you do, you’ve done almost nothing. The real questions are: what did you do to prepare the land ahead of time, and what are you doing to care for the plant for the next three to five years? If you don’t have a strong answer to those two questions, don’t even bother putting anything into the ground—it will just be a waste of everyone’s time and of someone’s money.

Lesson #2: Methodology is determined by initial conditions

The most important tactical decisions of a reforestation project are driven by the conditions of the land at the starting point. Pre-planting, planting, and post-planting protocols will vary based on the type of land you’re working with.

The key variables are slope, climate, soil, existing vegetation, and proximity to native forest. The latter two variables are probably the most important. Cattle pasture, an old corn field, fallow scrubby land, or a recently harvested balsa plantation all call for different approaches. Their proximity to native forest adds another layer to the equation.

For example, the worst way to reforest a cattle pasture is to actively plant trees in the first year. As a baby seedling planted into a cattle pasture, your task is to outcompete an invasive pasture grass on compacted soil while nakedly exposed to the sun. It’s not a fair fight.

The only way to keep those seedlings alive in the first year is through a tremendous infusion of labor—namely, the constant and seemingly futile efforts at manually weeding pasture grass, mulching, and possibly hand-watering individual seedlings. The labor investment is needlessly high, and the survival rates will still probably be low. Especially at larger scales, it’s not worth it.

We learned this lesson the hard way.

When it comes to cattle pasture, it’s far more efficient and effective to use methodologies such as Assisted Natural Regeneration (ANR), Nurse Cropping (NC), Delayed Planting (DP), and/or Applied Nucleation (AN), depending on the land’s proximity to native forest.

Below is a glossary of terms followed by a methodology recommendation matrix based on reforestation conditions that we’ve worked in. Definitions of each term can be found in our Brief Summary of Reforestation Methodologies.

• natural regeneration (NR)
• assisted natural regeneration (ANR)
• enrichment planting (ER)
• plantation-style reforestation (PS)
• delayed planting (DP)
• nurse cropping (NC)
• applied nucleation (AN)
• farmer managed natural restoration (FMNR)
• permaculture
• regenerative agroforestry (RA)
• syntropic agroforestry

Lesson #3: Mother Nature is better at planting trees than humans are

During the first years of our project to reforest the cattle pasture, we mistakenly believed that the return of the forest depended on the seedlings we planted. In truth, the seedlings helped. But they were only part of the story.

In Year 1, we planted many thousands of trees, plantation-style, at a density of 3m x 3m. As expected, about half of these died in the harsh conditions of a sun-scorched pasture of elephant grass during the first year.

In Year 2, we planted more trees—filling in all the gaps left from Year 1. The following year, we planted still more trees. Slowly but surely, they gained a foothold.

By the end of Year 3, the trees we planted were finally healthy and growing taller by the month, which was exciting to watch. But what was more interesting to see is that they weren’t alone. Suddenly they were joined by thousands and thousands of other trees that we didn’t plant.

By Year 5, it was apparent that the project would be a runaway success. The cattle pasture was entirely replaced by an early successional forest. Roughly ten years after the first trees were planted, the canopy is already over 50 feet tall.

The speed of this recovery surprised everyone. Just as surprising was the composition of the trees that were growing. Even in the section that was actively planted with native timber trees, only half of the trees currently growing were planted by humans. The other half of the trees were planted by birds and other animals.

Land that was once forest never ceases to be forest in the fabric of its being. The seed of its true nature is always sitting just below the surface, waiting for the right conditions in which to germinate. Our role, as humans, is to create those conditions. The forest itself will do the rest. 

View inside the “Finca de Madera” property 12 years after initial planting into the cattle pasture.

Lesson #4: Harness the power of natural forest succession

When I refer to “Mother Nature” in the previous section, I’m not referring to something supernatural. I’m referring to the scientific process known as ecological succession—also called natural forest succession.

This is the ecological process by which the structure and composition of a forest change in a somewhat predictable manner as time progresses. This process occurs as different species of plants and animals colonize and alter the environment, making it more suitable for other species to follow. This creates a “succession” of species, which tends toward bigger trees and greater diversity over time.

With the exception of very badly degraded areas, this process will proceed on its own without any human intervention. Indeed, removing human intervention is often the only action required to trigger natural forest succession.

For this reason, natural forest succession is usually the star of the show. It is an indomitable force of nature and the real engine of any forest restoration project. All we can do, as humans, is coax this process along, make sure nothing is impeding it, and occasionally accelerate or even redirect it. Methods to accelerate the process include assisted natural acceleration (ANR), enrichment planting (EP), applied nucleation (AN), and nurse cropping (NC). Methods to redirect the process include syntropic agriculture and permaculture.

The left side of this road was excavated and mined for gravel to build another road in 2018. All soil was stripped, leaving nothing but rock. Six years later, the forest is already coming back – with zero help from humans. This is a testament to the power of natural forest succession and the tenacity of early-successional pioneer species. All of that vegetation is literally growing in rocks.

Lesson #5: Think about what to subtract before thinking about what to add

Like most of the tropical lowlands of Latin America, the Pacific Forest of Ecuador was once entirely forested. The natural “steady state” of this land is forest. That’s what the land wants to be.

The land only becomes a cattle pasture when humans slash and burn the native vegetation, plant grass, and introduce cattle onto the scene. From that point on, the humans and the cattle continually work together to actively repress the resurgence of the native vegetation in favor of the grass.

This is a key lesson that we learned through experience. At the outset of any forest restoration project, before you think about what needs to be added to the land, the first order of business is to think about what needs to be subtracted. In other words, if you remove the barriers to natural forest succession, in most cases Mother Nature will take care of the rest.

The main barriers to natural succession are:

• cattle
• cyclical slash-and-burn activities by humans
• other extractive activities like logging
• more generally, machetes and chainsaws
• invasive species
• chemical pesticides and herbicides and synthetic fertilizers
• lack of biodiversity (i.e., lack of natural seed dispersers)

Likewise, the most important actions to encourage forest recovery are:

• Remove cattle
• Stop slashing and burning
• Stop logging—or, at the very least, only log selectively
• Remove invasive species, if necessary or possible
• Stop using synthetic pesticides, herbicides, and fertilizers
• Stop hunting and/or eliminating habitat for wildlife (especially seed dispersers)

Map of TMA reforestation projects. The Jama-Coaque Reserve is outlined in green; native forest restoration projects are in red; Regenerative Agroforestry parcels are in orange. (Note: this map only includes Regenerative Agroforestry parcels in two out of the six communities where it is being implemented).

Lesson #6: “Weeds” are your best friend

I put “weeds” in quotes because it’s a derogatory term for an extremely important element of any ecosystem and a crucial tool in forest restoration. So-called “weeds” are merely the first wave of native vegetation that help initiate the process of natural forest succession.

There is a tendency among gardeners to view weeds as enemies. To reforestation practitioners, weeds are your best friend—at the very least, for the first few years.

The initial condition of a cattle pasture is a sea of elephant grass, owing to the efforts of humans and cattle. As soon as the humans and cattle are removed from the land, the “weeds” (i.e., native vegetation) fight back. The elephant grass can maintain dominance for the first year, but by the second year, the native vegetation begins to naturally appear. Natural forest succession has begun.

By the third year, the native vegetation continues to surge, as shrubs and pioneer trees multiply and then suddenly exceed the height of the elephant grass—thus starting to shade it out. The elephant grass is still present at this point, but its fate is sealed.

Once the native vegetation begins to block out the sun, the elephant grass recedes. By the fourth year, the battle is over. Natural succession has firmly taken control of the land. At this stage, the recovery of the forest continues by force of inertia—in much the same way that a ball rolls downhill. The only thing that can stop it is fire, humans, or ruminants.

In this scenario, the “weeds” have naturally achieved something that would have required a massive investment in human labor to achieve—namely, stifling the growth of elephant grass.

Nurse trees and pioneers (left) beginning to shade out elephant grass (right). Photo from the Crowther Study site in the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

Lesson #7: Your friendship with weeds is conditional

Natural forest succession is a long-term process that unfolds over the course of a century or more, but the initial years are arguably the most important.

A key catalyst of this process is what ecologists call “volunteer trees,” which appear during the first few years of regrowth. To the untrained eye, they may look like “weeds.” In fact, many of them are weeds. But some of them are trees, and you need them.

Volunteers are native trees (or shrubs) that sprout and grow naturally without being deliberately planted by people. They typically emerge from seeds that are dispersed by animals, wind, water, or other natural means.

Some of these volunteer trees are “early successional” species that specialize in colonizing degraded or deforested areas. Another term for early successional species is “pioneer species.” Typically, they are hardy trees that are adapted to survive in difficult conditions, grow quickly, and die young.

But some of these volunteer trees may be “mid-successional” or even “late-successional” species. Meaning that they are trees that will grow tall, form the canopy of the forest, and potentially live many decades if not centuries.

As you walk through an early successional forest, be on the lookout for seedlings or saplings of desirable species that have naturally sprouted. Once you find them, your next move is to give them a helping hand. The main way to do this is to selectively remove any other vegetation that may compete with them for sunlight, water, and nutrients. In other words, chop and drop the weeds that surround the desirable volunteers.

That is the basis for the method known as Assisted Natural Regeneration (ANR), which is among the most cost-effective approaches to reforestation.

ANR in action: selective removal of weeds at the base of desired trees. (Finca de Madera)

Lesson #8: ANR is the best bang for your buck

There are several benefits of ANR compared to conventional tree-planting and other approaches to reforestation.

First and foremost, ANR is much more cost-effective than other reforestation methods because it relies heavily on natural processes and requires fewer inputs like nursery-raised seedlings and labor. Nature does the heavy lifting—humans just support the process.

In our experience, assisted natural regeneration is about 5–15% of the cost of plantation-style reforestation, and pure natural regeneration is 0–5% of the cost. This aligns with global findings from 138 low- and middle-income countries, where natural regeneration generally costs less than 4% of plantation-style reforestation but typically delivers greater carbon storage, biodiversity benefits, and ecosystem services.

The other benefit of ANR is that it encourages the growth of native species that are already adapted to local conditions, which tend to have higher survival rates than nursery-raised seedlings. Even if a nursery-raised seedling is native to the broader region, it may still have difficulty adapting to the microclimate and soil conditions of the specific river valley that you’re working to restore.

Moreover, trees raised in a nursery are often not as hardy as volunteer trees that naturally sprout on-site. Some nursery-raised seedlings suffer transplant shock when planted into the field. Other nursery-raised seedlings may have spent too much time in the nursery, such that their taproot gets deformed at the bottom of the grow bag.

There are two caveats to ANR. If you’re working with highly degraded land that is far from patches of existing forest, you will probably need to actively plant trees. This could come in the form of enrichment planting (EP), nurse cropping (NC), or even plantation-style (PS) planting.

The other caveat is that ANR only applies if your objective is the restoration of native forest. If your objective is a native timber plantation or agroforestry production, other methodologies will be needed.

Natural forest succession doesn’t always look pretty, but there is order to this madness. (Ochoa Property approximately 9 years after it was clear-cut).

Lesson #9: Apply the principles of judo to reforestation

In judo, you use your opponent’s energy and force against them, rather than directly opposing it with your own strength. You also minimize personal effort while maximizing the effect of movements, using skill and technique over brute strength. Knowing when and where to apply force can be more important than the amount of force applied. Small, well-timed movements or shifts are often more effective than offensive strikes.

The philosophy of reforestation outlined in this article is analogous to judo, especially in the context of reforesting cattle pasture. In addition to ANR-EP, the other reforestation methodology that typifies this approach is what we call delayed planting (DP). This is the method we’re using in three of the experimental plots of the Crowther Study, which compares active tree planting vs passive natural regeneration in cattle pasture.

The “delayed planting” method is, in a sense, a hybrid of the active and passive approaches. The key is the timing.

In the “delayed planting” plots, we do absolutely nothing for the first two years. Rather than fight the elephant grass with human tools, we sit back and allow Mother Nature to do the hard work. In other words, we let the natural process of forest succession begin to unfold.

It typically takes two or three years for the first wave of native vegetation to gain a sufficient foothold in cattle pasture and begin to shade out the elephant grass. Once that phrase begins, we begin planting trees.

The delayed planting approach significantly reduces the labor spent on battling weeds, and this significantly reduces the overall restoration cost. In terms of the speed of forest recovery, the initial delay of two to three years ultimately proves to be negligible. We’re already starting to see signs that the delayed planting approach may be faster than the immediate planting approach, because natural succession is more efficient at restoring vegetation than labor-intensive human-induced weed suppression.

The seedlings that are eventually planted in the delayed planting plots also have higher survival rates than seedlings in the immediate planting plots. After a few initial years of natural restoration, the formerly dry and sun-scorched cattle pasture now has the benefit of dappled shade formed by the many volunteer trees that naturally sprout and take root.

This nascent canopy protects the soil from direct sun and also generates abundant leaf litter, which helps lower the ground temperature, preserve moisture, improve nutrient cycling, and generally provide a more fertile habitat for soil microbiota. All of these conditions are favorable to the growth of baby tree seedlings. Indeed, these are the conditions that later-successional tree species are accustomed to during the first few years of their lives.

In short, immediate tree planting has high labor costs and high mortality rates. The delayed planting method reduces labor costs and creates better conditions for the success of the seedlings that are eventually planted.

This is our judo approach to reforesting a cattle pasture. We allow the force of natural succession to overcome the pasture grass, rather than wear ourselves out with an onslaught of planting and manual weeding at the outset. The volunteer trees and pioneer species do the heavy lifting. We augment the process with well-timed planting of strategic species in subsequent years, minimizing our effort and maximizing the impact.

Another view of the “Finca de Madera” property (formerly 87 acres of cattle pasture).

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TMA has restored 427 acres of forest in coastal Ecuador since 2008, both in and around the Jama-Coaque Reserve. We did not do it alone. Our greatest ally in the process was Mother Nature. Along the way, we’ve had the opportunity to implement and experiment with a full quiver of different reforestation methodologies, each of which we summarize below.

We also go into detail about the art and science of these methodologies in Judo Principles of Tropical Reforestation: 9 lessons learned from reforesting 427 acres in Ecuador.

The list of methodologies covered in this article includes:

• natural regeneration (NR)
• assisted natural regeneration (ANR)
• enrichment planting (ER)
• plantation-style reforestation (PS)
• delayed planting (DP)
• nurse cropping (NC)
• applied nucleation (AN)
• farmer managed natural restoration (FMNR)
• permaculture
• regenerative agroforestry (RA)
• syntropic agroforestry

Map of TMA reforestation projects. The Jama-Coaque Reserve is outlined in green; native forest restoration projects are in red; Regenerative Agroforestry parcels are in orange. (Note this map only includes Regenerative Agroforestry parcels in two out of the six communities where it is being implemented).

Summary of Methodologies

The following is a brief summary of each reforestation method, along with an explanation of the difference between rewilding and reforestation.

Natural Regeneration (NR)

Natural Regeneration is a forest recovery process where trees and plants regrow naturally without human intervention, using existing seeds and sprouts in the area. It is the most cost-effective method for forest restoration because it relies on the innate ability of ecosystems to heal themselves through the process known as natural forest succession.

Sites most suitable for natural regeneration are those where the ecological conditions remain relatively intact, with minimal presence of invasive species that could compete with native growth. It is greatly facilitated by the presence of a nearby forest, which serves as a seed bank. Animals such as a birds, bats, and other mammals play a critical role in dispersing seeds from nearby forest into the natural restoration area.

We’ve used NR to restore slash-and-burn sites, cattle pasture, and part of the ex-balsa plantation.

Assisted Natural Regeneration (ANR)

Assisted Natural Regeneration is a forest restoration method in which humans merely give Mother Nature a helping hand, Humans accelerate the process of natural forest succession by actively removing obstacles to forest recovery.

One way to do this is by strategically chopping-and-dropping any vegetation that threatens to stifle the growth of desirable tree seedlings and saplings that have naturally sprouted. It also may be necessary to shield the young seedlings from damage caused by herbivores or trampling.

Whereas NR basically requires no human effort, ANR usually only requires minimal human effort. For this reason, it is much more cost-effective than conventional tree-planting methods of reforestation.

ANR is best suited to areas where the natural seed bank is still viable but hampered by overgrowth, disturbances, or other stressors that prevent successful seedling establishment and growth. It may not be effective in heavily degraded areas that are far from existing tracts of mature forest.

ANR is partially responsible for the success of our finest section of the Finca de Madera reforestation project.

Enrichment Planting (EP)

Enrichment Planting is an optional add-on component of ANR. In cases where the quantity or diversity of volunteer trees is insufficient to restore the forest on its own, you can also plant additional trees from targeted species. This helps enhance biodiversity, fill in spatial gaps, and restore key ecological functions.

In this case, planting densities still tend to be quite low. Whereas some conventional plantation-style reforestation projects plant trees with spacing of 2×2 meters or 3×3 meters, the spacing for enrichment planting may be 10×10 meters or even as wide as 25×25 meters. Although EP trees usually aren’t planted according to a grid. Rather, they are planted wherever there happens to be gap without promising volunteer seedlings or saplings.

In a few of our ANR-EP sites in and around the Jama-Coaque Reserve, we generally plant native timber species that have suffered significant population loss due to logging.

The “Finca de Madera” reforestation project, before and after.

Plantation-Style Reforestation (PS)

Plantation-style reforestation is what most people think of when they think of reforestation. You plant rows and rows of trees, usually with standardized spacing, into deforested land. This is by far the most time-consuming and expensive form of reforestation. For this reason, it should only be used at sites where less labor-intensive methods like NR, ANR-EP, or AN would not be effective. In other words, in severely degraded sites where the process of natural forest succession is greatly hindered.

We made the mistake of attempting PS in year 1 of our first cattle pasture reforestation project. The survival rate was about 50%. In our study with the Crowther Lab, which also called for active tree planting into a cattle pasture, we paired PS with Nurse Cropping (NC), and this time the initial survival rates were well over 80%.

Delayed Planting (DP)

Delayed Planting is a strategy where the planting of trees is postponed for a few years to allow the first wave of natural forest succession to establish an initial layer of native vegetation. This helps create more favorable soil and microclimate conditions for tree seedlings that are eventually planted into the site.

This method is particularly advantageous when attempting to reforest a cattle pasture—as we have learned through many tough years of trial and error. Plant inherently vulnerable tree seedlings directly into the dry and sun-scorched conditions of a cattle pasture is akin to asking soldiers to walk into a line of enemy fire. Even if some of the seedlings don’t die, they will require labor-intensive support (primarily in the form of manual weeding) every three months for the first few years.

In the delayed planting approach, you wait two or three years so that pioneer species begins to shade out the pasture grass and create a more suitable growing environment for the seedlings. This greatly reduces labor costs and increases seedling survival rates. In effect, you outsource the crucial first few years of work to Mother Nature herself. She handles that part of the job much more efficiently than humans.

We’re using the delayed planting method in three out of the 13 experimental plots in the Crowther Lab study. We discuss this method in greater detail in The Judo Approach to Reforestation: 9 lessons learned from reforesting 427 acres in Ecuador.

Nurse Cropping (NC)

Nurse Cropping is a reforestation method that plants fast-growing pioneer species alongside slower-growing target species. This is yet another way of hacking the natural process of forest succession. The fast-growing pioneer trees pave the way for slower-growing, longer-lived species that will eventually become the backbone of the forest.

Nurse cropping is similar to delayed planting, in the sense that fast-growing (early successional) species are used to create more favorable growing conditions for slower-growing (later-successional) species. In delayed planting, you wait for nature to generate her own crop of pioneer trees, in the form of volunteer trees that naturally seed and/or sprout on the site. With nurse cropping, you go ahead and actually plant the pioneer trees yourself.

It is possible to use nurse cropping in the context of delayed planting. With that approach, you would allow native vegetation to regrow on its own for a few years. And then you can plant additional pioneer trees as well as slower-growing target species at the same time. Or you could plant pioneer trees and wait a few years before planting slower-growing target species. Or you can simply plant everything together right at the outset.

In all cases, the concept is the same. Slower-growing and longer-lived tree species are generally accustomed to spending the first few years of their lives in the dappled shade of a forest. In this relatively stable and comfortable environment, the young seedlings and sapling patiently bide their time until a nearby tree falls and creates a gap in the canopy. At this point, they have deep enough roots to tap into subsurface waterflow. They are also usually tall and strong enough to outcompete so-called weeds and grasses that would have otherwise stunted their growth as baby seedlings. Thus, they are now capable of taking advantage of the sunlight and can quickly grow skyward.

By this point, the nurse trees have fulfilled their function. In accordance with natural forest succession, the nurse trees would inevitably die on their own, to make way for the next wave of succession. Humans can accelerate this process by cutting them back or thinning them. This provides a fresh supply of decomposing organic material on the forest floor, which helps cycle nutrients, protect the soil, and improve soil fertility—further enhancing the growth prospects of the target trees.

Our preferred nurse tree is balsa (Ochroma pyramidale), a pioneer species native to this region. It’s a short-lived tree that can outcompete pasture grass and grow more than 15 feet per year. We used balsa trees as nurse crops in six out of the 13 experimental plots in the Crowther Lab study. We’re now using balsa as nurse crops in some of our regenerative agroforestry sites with local farmers.

Balsa trees (native to this region) employed as nurse crops to longer-successional species. (Finca Nueva – Crowther Study Plot)

Applied nucleation (AN)

Applied nucleation (AN) is a reforestation technique that involves planting small clusters of trees to serve as focal points for natural forest succession. These clusters (or “nuclei”) attract birds and insects and other animals that act as seed dispersers and pollinators, which accelerates forest recovery. Over time, these nuclei grow and merge, gradually restoring the forest ecosystem across a broader area. Applied nucleation can be preferable to plantation-style tree planting because it uses a lot less labor and inputs to achieve comparable results.

This method was an important feature in the large-scale reforestation efforts in Auroville, India in the 1970s and 1980s. Applied Nucleation has been extensively studied by Doctors Karen Holl, Rakan Zahawi, and their colleagues in Costa Rica. We’re applying AN in the ex-balsa plantation.

Farmer Managed Natural Regeneration (FMNR)

Farmer Managed Natural Regeneration is a low-cost, sustainable land restoration technique that encourages the natural regrowth of trees and bushes from existing roots and stumps, which farmers manage by pruning and protecting new shoots. This approach enhances agricultural productivity, improves soil health, and increases biodiversity. It was specifically developed for the cultural and climate conditions of the arid tropics of sub-Saharan Africa as a tool to combat desertification.

We’ve experimented with FMNR in a few of the regenerative agroforestry parcels with local farmers—particularly on properties with large populations of existing Guazuma ulmifolia trees.

Permaculture

Permaculture is a holistic agricultural system that integrates land, resources, people, and native ecology in a synergistic way. It imitates the no-waste, closed-loop systems observed in diverse natural environments, but reoriented in pursuit of sustainable production of food, shelter, and other needs. It places a premium on conscious design and seeks to achieve human prosperity and well-being in a way that is aligned with nature. It also emphasizes social aspects like community building and fair resource distribution. Permaculture is guided by three core ethics: care for the earth, care for people, and fair share.

Permaculture, as a system, was first coined in Tasmania in the 1970s by Bill Mollison and David Holmgren. They were inspired by a combination of Tasmanian Aboriginal practices, the “natural farming” method of Japanese farmer and philosopher Masanobu Fukuoka, the “mulch gardening” methods of American gardener and writer Ruth Stout, and the writings of Stuart Brand, and other influences.

The philosophy of permaculture was an important contributor to the creation of TMA and the founding of the Jama-Coaque Reserve. It was also the framework we used to design the food forest and production zone surrounding the Bamboo House.

Permaculture/regenerative agroforestry surrounding the Bamboo House.

Regenerative Agroforestry (RA)

Regenerative agroforestry combines tree crops alongside other agricultural practices to simultaneously restore ecosystem health, increase biodiversity, and achieve sustainable food production.

A key feature of agroforestry, in general, is diversity in the elements that are cultivated. Whereas conventional agriculture and conventional plantations tend to be monocultures of one species, agroforestry includes a mix of different species, ranging from fruit trees and timber trees to perennial or annual crops, and may also include nitrogen-fixing species and even livestock.

Another key feature is a multi-strata system, in which trees and plants of different heights are cultivated together—somewhat mimicking the structure of a forest.

Agroforestry is considered “regenerative” if it is used as a tool to restore tree cover and improve the biodiversity and/or soil fertility of land that was formerly used in an unsustainable fashion—for example, a cattle pasture or monoculture crop plantation.

Regenerative agroforestry prioritizes soil management through practices like mulching, no-till farming, and the use of organic fertilizers to promote a healthy soil ecosystem. Water conservation techniques such as contour planting, swales, and other water-harvesting methods can also be used. This helps manage water efficiently, reduce irrigation needs, and increase resilience in times of drought.

In some cases, livestock is also incorporated in the system. In addition to producing food, livestock can be used for “weed” management, pest control, and manure production. The latter supports crop health and growth by cycling nitrogen and other nutrients back into the soil.

If implemented well, regenerative agroforestry has the capacity to enhance biodiversity, rejuvenate soils, combat climate change, and sustainably produce food, timber, and other human needs.

Our Regenerative Cacao program, which has now extended to 80 different farms across the region, is built on these principles. The photo below illustrates the results after just three and a half years.

One of the inaugural members of Regenerative Cacao program standing in his farm three and a half years after initial planting. Native hardwood in the foreground, followed by banana and cacao.

Syntropic Agroforestry

Syntropic agriculture is a distinct form of regenerative agroforestry that is built upon a specific theory with a specific methodology. It is predicated on leveraging ecological succession for the sake of building soil and producing food. Different trees and plants are grown together in planned stages that mimic the natural progression of an ecosystem. However, syntropic agriculture is most often planted in straight lines on flat land.

Pruning and biomass recycling are key drivers of the process, in a way that goes beyond conventional notions. In syntropic agriculture, pruning is meant to mimic the natural disturbances that drive ecological succession in native forests, in this case augmented by conscious human intention.

Pruning is strategically used to manage plant growth, redirect energy to targeted areas of the system, and stimulate the development of other plants by enhancing light penetration, reducing competition, and other mechanisms. Biomass generated from pruning is cycled back into the system as mulch, which decomposes to enrich the soil with nutrients, improve soil structure, and support microbial activity. This stimulates growth and production throughout the system, and generally promotes a healthy, self-sustaining agricultural ecosystem.

Ernst Götsch, a Swiss farmer and researcher, developed the concept of syntropic agriculture after moving to Brazil in the 1980s. The method has been widely replicated in other parts of the world. Our friend Lucas Oshun is its leading practitioner in coastal Ecuador.

We’re managing a 1-hectare syntropic agriculture demonstration site right next to our cacao processing facility in Camarones.

Rewilding vs Reforestation

What’s the difference between these two terms? It’s a fair question. Rewilding and reforestation are both environmental restoration strategies, but they have distinct goals and methods. Rewilding focuses on restoring natural ecosystems and processes—in some cases including the reintroduction of native wildlife—to create self-sustaining environments with minimal human intervention. Reforestation, on the other hand, specifically involves planting trees to restore deforested or degraded forest lands. While rewilding aims to restore an entire ecosystem, reforestation primarily targets increasing tree cover and forest health.

Permaculture, regenerative agroforestry, syntropic agriculture, and FMNR can all be considered reforestation tools, but not rewilding. Although they contribute to restoring nature and biodiversity, they’re also designed to produce food and other products for human consumption.

Natural Regeneration, Assisted Natural Regeneration, Enrichment Planting, Applied Nucleation, Nurse Cropping, Delayed Planting, and even plantation-style reforestation can all be considered tools for rewilding if their goal is simply to restore natural ecosystems to a native state. In other words, if the forested land that results from these methods are not used to produce material goods for human consumption, like food or timber.

The post Brief Catalog of Reforestation Methods by TMA appeared first on TMA.

Extremely wet Chocó rainforests occupy the northern reaches of the Pacific Forest, giving way to Tumbesian dry forests in the south. Cloud forests cover the mountaintops of the coastal cordillera. Mangrove forests, much of which have been replaced by shrimp farms, can still be found along some coastal estuaries.

For a deeper dive into this bioregion, check out The Most Endangered Rainforest You’ve Never Heard Of: An intimate portrait of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador.

Mountains of the Jama-Coaque Reserve, with the Pacific Ocean in background. Photo by Ryan Lynch.

The Capuchin Corridor, named in honor of the critically-endangered Ecuadorian capuchin monkey, occupies the heart of the Pacific Forest. Here, all of the above forest types can be encountered over the course of a single afternoon’s hike. In ecological terms, it is the transition zone between the Chocó rainforest and Tumbesian dry forests.

The Jama-Coaque Reserve (JCR), which sits at the nucleus of the Capuchin Corridor, is the ecological midpoint of the entire Pacific Forest of Ecuador.

The Pacific Forest of Ecuador runs from Gulf of Guayaquil up to the Colombian border, straddling the coastal mountain ranges that run parallel to the Pacific ocean.

This long, narrow stretch of mountainous land contains the widest diversity of tropical forests in South America. It’s also the most threatened. Only 2% of the original forest remains. TMA’s mission is to preserve the last surviving remnants of the Pacific Forest and work with local communities to restore what has been lost.

The photo tour below provides a brief overview of this remarkable ecosystem. For a deeper dive, check out The Most Endangered Rainforest You’ve Never Heard Of: An intimate portrait of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador.

The Bamboo House headquarters of the Jama-Coaque Reserve. Photo by Ronald Gúzman Dávila (Vistazo)

Chocó Rainforest

The Chocó rainforest is one of the wettest forests on earth. It occupies the northern portion of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador. Prominent examples can be found at the Bilsa Biological Station and the FCAT Reserve, located within the Mache-Chindul Ecological Reserve, as well as Cerro Pata de Pájaro in the Capuchin Corridor.

Lush primary-growth rainforest in Cerro Pata de Pájaro (Capuchin Corridor)

Cloud Forest

The Pacific Forest of Ecuador is effectively a series of long and narrow coastal mountain ranges that rise up from the ocean and top out at about 850 meters (2780 feet) above sea level. The peaks of the mountains are shrouded in a thick blanket of clouds nearly every single night of the year. It is a forest that is fed by the clouds. Otherwise known as a cloud forest.

Cloud forest at the headwaters of Camarones River Basin (Jama-Coaque Reserve)

Visually, it is surreal. Almost all visible surfaces are covered in bright green. The forest floor is carpeted with ferns, tree trunks are encased in moss, and epiphytes, orchids, and bromeliads hang from the branches. All of the above is watered on an hourly basis by clouds of fog that float up from the Pacific Ocean and condense into water droplets on the leaves of the trees. The droplets then drip down into the soil and form the basis of the waterways that sustain the life of all animals downstream—humans included.

Moist Evergreen Forest

The moist forest is an entirely different world than the cloud forest, even though the transition between the two is often less than 75 meters of elevation difference. The vegetation is evergreen like a rainforest, but there’s a wider range of color tones, and the species are different. The trees are actually taller here, relative to the cloud forest. The canopy of the moist forest is formed by big native hardwood trees, some of them reaching heights of 45 meters (150 feet), often with massively buttressed roots.

Manager of the Jama-Coaque Reserve, Dany Murillo, standing in front of the buttressed trunk of massive strangler fig tree.

There is also a wealth of exotic palm trees with spiny trunks and nuts with the color and consistency of ivory, stands of giant bamboo, and countless little streams tumbling down steep slopes, alternating between waterfalls and itty-bitty swimming holes that are naturally stocked with freshwater prawns. All of this exists under the watchful eyes of loud-mouthed troops of howler monkeys, critically endangered capuchin monkeys, and ocelots that never appear except in pictures taken by infrared trail cameras fitted with motion sensors.

Ocelot photographed on a camera trap in the Jama-Coaque Reserve

Tumbesian Dry Forest

If you keep descending the mountain and walk toward the beach, you may notice that some of the trees are shedding their leaves. You have reached the semi-deciduous forest. Eventually, after another kilometer or two, you stumble into a full-blown deciduous forest. Otherwise known as tropical dry forest. More specifically, a Tumbesian dry forest.

The 3,450-hectare Cabo Pasado forest, just north of Canoa and currently unprotected, is now undergoing real estate development. You can see dry forest on the ridges and semi-deciduous forest in the valleys.

The tropical dry forest looks and functions like a rainforest during the rainy season. But in the dry season, the trees shed all of their leaves. From September until December, the trees are as bare as the North Woods in winter—although not because of temperature. The weather is always tropical. Leaf shedding is entirely a function of precipitation. At the base of the coastal cordillera, rainfall is almost nonexistent for half the year. But the moment the rainy season begins anew, the dry forest explodes back into life in a matter of days.

Tropical dry forest at Pacoche Wildlife Refuge in central Manabí.

Imagine compressing all of the life energy of springtime into one or two weeks, and then maintaining this feverish biological pitch for about five months, gradually transitioning into a long and leisurely autumn, without any wintertime. That’s the annual cycle of the tropical dry forest in coastal Ecuador. It is an incredible process to watch unfold.

Wildlife

The complete list of notable wildlife that inhabits the Pacific Forest is beyond the scope of this article. There are more endangered and threatened bird species in the Capuchin Corridor than any other Key Biodiversity Area in all of Ecuador—the country believed to have the most biodiverse bird population on earth.

White necked Jacobin. Photo taken in the Jama-Coaque Reserve by Scott Trageser (Nature Stills Photography).

The headline species is the Ecuadorian Capuchin Monkey (Cebus aequatorialis), which is officially listed as critically endangered on the IUCN red list.

Ecuadorian Capuchin Monkey in the Jama-Coaque Reserve, mugging for the camera.

We would be remiss to not include a frog photo. This one was photographed by TMA’s executive director, Ryan Lynch—originally a herpetologist.

Gliding leaf frog (Agalychnis spurrelli). Photo by Ryan Lynch.

Water

There are no glaciers in the Pacific Forest of Ecuador. Water is born along the peaks of the coastal mountain ranges, where the ample vegetation of the cloud forest effectively “harvests” moisture from the perpetual fog.

Water droplets on moss growing on the side of a tree in the cloud forest of Cerro Pata de Pájaro.

The water vapor is thus converted into drops of water which fall to the ground, enter inside the earth, and slowly make their way to the many watercourses that tumble down the mountains toward the sea. In waterfalls like the one pictured below, the water is so pristine that you can drink it while simultaneously swimming in it.

Water so clean you can drink it while simultaneously swimming in it. (Jama-Coaque Reserve)

Just because it’s so beautiful and tasty-looking, another picture of fresh, clean, water running through the rainforest. Water is the source of life, and forests—at least in this ecosystem—are the birthplace of water.

The Camarones River of the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

Fate of the Forest

The Pacific Forest of Ecuador has been badly fragmented over the course of the last century. Today, it is estimated that only 2% is left. The traditional driver of deforestation is a tripartite combination of logging followed by slash-and-burn cultivation of maize and then the long-term conversion to cattle pasture.

Slash-and-burn for corn/maize cultivation in the Capuchin Corridor.

In recent years, a rash of real estate development projects—in the form of high-end subdivisions along the beach—have eaten away at much of the tropical forest along the coast.

Beachside condos in Jama.

In the interior, large-scale teak and balsa plantations have been replacing native evergreen moist forest along the mountainsides.

This used to be a forest. Then came cattle ranching.

The Capuchin Corridor Project

TMA and its partners are building a 40,000-hectare conservation corridor that will protect and restore one of the last major remnants of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador. This project is underway. Here’s the roadmap:

• Protect all remaining tracts of old-growth forest through purchase and/or easement.
• Restore degraded forest in areas no longer suitable for farming and grazing.
• Connect isolated forest fragments through regenerative agroforestry with local farmers.
• All lands are managed by local communities.

Carbon Payments

With the help of a third-party carbon developer (The Landscapes & Livelihoods Group), we calculated the CO2 benefit of the Capuchin Corridor. We did so using both REDD+ and the Forest Carbon Ledger (FCL). The annual CO2 benefit of the entire corridor is 110,000 metric tons.  If we are able to secure carbon funding, the revenue will be distributed to local communities to protect the forest in their home watersheds. Payments are results-based and verified by aerial imagery.

Local cacao grower and forest ranger Edilberto Marquez harvesting a cacao pod.

Regenerative Agroforestry

We provide local farmers with start-up capital and financial incentives to convert deforested land into regenerative forests. Each acre of reforested land boosts local income, produces food, restores biodiversity, and removes CO2 from the atmosphere. This is a Payment for Ecosystem Services (PES) project with both social and ecological benefits. Here’s a 2-minute animated video that explains how we do it.

Thank You

…for taking the time to learn about the Pacific Forest of Ecuador. Protecting and restoring this ecosystem is big undertaking, but we’ve already made a tremendous amount of progress. We’re at a point where we are ready and capable of dramatically scaling up our work. To do it, we need help. If you feel inclined to support this project, please do. The future of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador depends on the actions of people right now.

With some help and a little bit of luck, this baby tree will live to see the next century—surrounded by a healthy forest and part of a thriving community.

The post Photo Tour of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador appeared first on TMA.

The current system for carbon accounting of forests is a method known as Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Forest Degradation (REDD+). It’s a well-intentioned system that is hampered by a few fundamental defects. As a consequence, REDD+ is struggling to unlock the full funding potential needed for large-scale forest conservation across the world—particularly in the tropics.

FCL avoids the biggest pitfalls of REDD+. Namely, it relies on objective data rather than projections and subjective counter-factuals. It’s harder to cheat and manipulate and it’s also generally more practical. It calls for performance-driven PES payments based on the total amount of CO2 stored in the forest, which is amortized in annual increments and paid ex-post.

This article uses the Capuchin Corridor in Ecuador as a case study for how FCL is calculated and applied. It also provides a side-by-side comparison with REDD+ calculations for the same project area.

For a quick summary of the carbon valuation of the Capuchin Corridor, check out Carbon Assessment of the Capuchin Corridor & Camarones River Basin, which draws from this biomass inventory that we conducted in partnership with reearchers from the Universidad Técnica de Manabí. For a deep dive into the basis and construction of the FCL, refer to the companion article Flipping REDD+ on Its Head: The Forest Carbon Ledger Is a New Valuation Method. Last but not least, Mongabay covers the FCL in its article: Carbon Counting Without the Guesswork: Q&A with FCL creator Jerry Toth.

Contents

• Four Fundamental Differences Between REDD+ and FCL
• A Case Study in the Capuchin Corridor
• How to Measure FCL
• A Note About Blockchain
• Land Cover Assessments
• Land Class Distinctions & Aerial Imaging Technology
• Estimating Carbon Density
• FCL Calculations
• Calculating FCL Year-Over-Year
• Calculating CO2 Uptake by Immature Forests
• The FCL Ledger in Action: 3-Year Example
• Performance-Based Results
• Permanence & Leakage
• REDD+ Estimate of the Capuchin Corridor
• Side-by-Side Comparison of FCL and REDD+ Estimates
• Piloting FCL in the Camarones Watershed
• Equitable Distribution of Carbon Revenue
• Next Steps
• Additional Reading

Four Fundamental Differences Between REDD+ and FCL

There are four fundamental differences between FCL and REDD+. A more comprehensive explanation can be found in Flipping REDD+ on Its Head. Below is summary of the key differences between these two carbon accounting methods.

A Case Study in the Capuchin Corridor

To demonstrate how FCL works, we’ll perform a case study in the Capuchin Corridor—a large-scale conservation project that TMA is spearheading in the Pacific Forest of Ecuador. The project is named in honor of the Ecuadorian Capuchin Monkey, which is endemic to the area and critically endangered.

The Capuchin Corridor spans a 43-kilometer mountain range that runs parallel to the Pacific Ocean. This corridor stores some of the last major remnants of Ecuador’s Pacific Forest—an ecosystem that has already lost 98% of its native forest over the course of the last century.

The Capuchin Corridor contains a wide range of distinct tropical forest types: cloud forest, moist evergreen forest, tropical dry forest, semi-deciduous forest, and a small remnant of primary-growth wet forest at the top of Cerro Pata de Pájaro. It also contains a patchwork of agricultural land that has been eating away at the forest for the last century.

Capuchin Corridor by the Numbers

• In its entirely, the Capuchin Corridor covers 40,000 hectares of land.
• This study is applied to 37,000 hectares, of which 24,600 hectares (representing 66% of total area) are still forested.
• The remainder of the land has already been converted to agriculture (31%) and residential areas (3%).
• The area is inhabited by 41 small rural communities totaling about 16,000 people.

Capuchin Corridor Project Activities

• Protect all remaining tracts of old-growth forest through purchase and/or easement.
• Restore degraded forest in areas no longer suitable for farming and grazing.
• Connect isolated forest fragments through regenerative agroforestry with local farmers.
• Carbon revenue will be distributed to local communities, in the form of performance-based PES payments, in exchange for protecting all the forest in their home watersheds.
• FCL will be used to quantify carbon and measure performance.

Primary-growth cloud forest at the peak of Cerro Pata de Pájaro, at the northern extreme of the Capuchin Corridor

How to Measure FCL

Before we get into the numbers, here’s a look at the FCL calculation process.

1. At the beginning of Year 1, we start with an initial estimate of the total carbon stock of the forest. This estimate is matched to, and informed by, aerial imagery of the entire forest at that point in time.
2. At the end of Year 1, we take a second round of aerial images of the same area. Machine learning algorithms then compare the new images with the original images and assess if there has been any deforestation or forest degradation during the year. If yes, the tally of ongoing CO2 storage is reduced accordingly in the ledger.
3. Meanwhile, immature forests that are still actively growing will absorb additional CO2 each year, which is also added to the ledger. This only applies to immature forests—i.e., secondary-growth forest.
4. Mature forests are considered to have reached carbon equilibrium and are not credited with additional carbon absorption, but their CO2 storage capacity—which is substantial—is included in the tally.
5. All of this data is fed back into the ledger to recalculate the total CO2 storage at the end of the year, which is amortized over 50 years.
6. If necessary, a risk buffer and/or leakage percentage is discounted.
7. The resulting annualized value is then multiplied by the price per ton of CO2. Here, we use a price of $25 per metric ton (Mg) of CO2.
8. Some of this payment is immediately paid to the forest stewards. The remaining balance can be held as an additional risk buffer and paid out after a certain pre-established period.

A Note About Blockchain

Smart contracts stored on a blockchain could be used to coordinate all FCL transactions. It could also be used to ensure transparency and prevent double counting. However, blockchain is an optional component. FCL can also be operated as a simple database.

This is a subject that merits additional discussion. For those readers who have experience in blockchain programing and who have an interest in forest conservation, please get in touch with us. We could use your help.

Land Cover Assessments

The first step is to determine how many distinct land classes can be distinguished by aerial imagery. In the Capuchin Corridor, we identified the following six land classes:

• Mature evergreen forest
• Secondary evergreen forest
• Mature wet forest
• Dry Forest & Semi-Deciduous Forest
• Agriculture
• Residential

Next, we contracted two different remote sensing analysts to use aerial imagery paired with machine-learning algorithms to quantify the area of each land class. The first analyst, Sake Alkema, worked at IUCN-Netherlands at the time; now he’s a remote sensing specialist for the global nature tech company Satelligence.

The second remote sensing specialist was the Plan Vivo-accredited carbon project developer The Landscapes and Livelihoods Group (TLLG).

To assist in this process, we helped train the latter’s algorithm by recording ground data at 211 different points throughout the project area—in each case noting which land class occupied that particular point. The software was able to use this data to learn the visual signature for each of the land classes. With this knowledge, it was able to assess the land cover of every single hectare in the entire project area.

Land cover map of the Capuchin Corridor by The Landscapes & Livelihoods Group (TLLG)

Below are the assessments from each of the two remote sensing analysts.

Sake Alkema / IUCN-NL – 2018

Notes:

• Evergreen Forest includes secondary moist forest, mature moist forest, and cloud forest.
• Dry Forest & Semi-Deciduous Forest includes tropical dry forest (i.e., deciduous forest), secondary semi-deciduous forest, and mature semi-deciduous forest.
• Measure carbon from above-ground biomass (AGB).

The Landscapes and Livelihoods Group (TLLG) – 2022

Notes:

• Mature Evergreen Forest includes mature moist forest and cloud forest.
• More comprehensive definitions of different land classes can be found below.
• Measure carbon from above-ground biomass (AGB).

Land Class Distinctions & Aerial Imaging Technology

Why did we only choose six land classes? We certainly could have broken the area up into additional land classes. For example, even within the “mature evergreen forest” class, there are two sub-classes: moist evergreen forest and cloud forest.

But the remote sensing methods we used here—namely, conventional satellite imagery—did not have the capacity to distinguish between moist evergreen forest and cloud forest. On the other hand, LIDAR and/or multispectral imagery are capable of making this distinction. In some cases, they can also provide biomass estimates. They’re considerably more expensive to deploy.

As aerial imaging technology continues to improve and costs come down, LIDAR and multispectral analysis of forest cover will become increasingly accessible, which will improve accuracy of forest carbon stock monitoring at scale. We want to be at the forefront of this field and actively solicit technical support.

Estimating Carbon Density

To estimate the initial carbon stock of the forest, we conducted several biomass inventories in the Capuchin Corridor, most notably in partnership with the Universidad Técnica de Manabí. Then we compared their results to each other and to other biomass inventories in nearby areas or comparable regions. The results were consistent across all biomass inventories. From these results, we took the averages for each forest class.

Below is a summary of the carbon densities of each major land class. To explore the results in greater detail, including biomass results for each sub-class, refer to Biomass Inventory of the Capuchin Corridor.

Average carbon density per hectare 

Notes:

• Measured in metric tons of carbon per hectare (Mg C/ha)
• Total carbon stock includes carbon from above-ground biomass, below-ground biomass, necromass, and soil organic carbon.
• “AGB” refers to carbon from above-ground biomass only.

FCL Calculations

With all of the above information, we can easily calculate the current FCL value of the Capuchin Corridor.

To convert carbon (C) to carbon dioxide (CO2), we multiply the weight of carbon by the ratio of the atomic weight of CO2 relative to C, which is 3.67.

This gives us the metric tonnage of CO2. To amortize this in an annual increment, we divide by 50 years. This does not mean that FCL forests are expected to only last 50 years.

In theory, an undisturbed stand of Pacific Forest in Ecuador would be expected to live for thousands of years, at least. It is important to point out that natural forest fires have never occurred in the Capuchin Corridor in recorded history.

Nevertheless, we amortize the carbon stock over a more realistic human management timeframe of two generations.

From this amount, we discount leakage. REDD+ projects generally offer a subjective estimate of leakage. Because FCL aims to eliminating subjectivity as much as possible, the best approach would be to perform an FCL assessment of the entire area surrounding the project area as well, to see if deforestation is simply being displaced to nearby areas. But that is beyond the scope of our initial test run. In this instance, we will have to satisfy ourselves with assuming a risk buffer and leakage discount of 15%.

Last but not least, we multiply the final CO2 number by the price per ton of carbon. This will fluctuate according to market forces. In this case, we assume a carbon price of $25/ton. In the table below, we only include carbon from above-ground biomass.

Note: the land cover numbers provided by TLLG are used for all FCL measurements. 

FCL Estimate of the Capuchin Corridor (above-ground carbon, year 0)

The table above only measures carbon stored in forested land. Can we also include carbon stored in agricultural land? We could. About 38% of the land in the Capuchin Corridor is agriculture, which is mostly comprised of cattle pasture, corn/maize fields, and fallow land in between slash-and-burn cycles. Although this land does contain some carbon in above-ground biomass, it doesn’t contain much—on average, about 5.2 tons of CO2 per hectare. This is only 4.5% of the above-ground carbon stored in one hectare of mature evergreen forest.

“Other” land cover, including residential and water, contains only 2% of AGB carbon relative to mature evergreen forest.

The table below measures the FCL value of all land in the Capuchin Corridor, including agricultural and residential land. Despite representing 43% of the total area of the Capuchin Corridor, non-forested land only contributes a mere 4.2% to the overall FCL carbon value of the Capuchin Corridor.

In the rest of the tables below, non-forested land will not be counted towards FCL or REDD+ estimations.

FCL Estimate of the Capuchin Corridor (AGB carbon, includes agricultural land, year 0)

Both of the tables above show FCL values for the entire project areas and only measure above-ground carbon. Below, we use all carbon pools (above-ground biomass, below-ground biomass, necromass, and soil organic carbon) to calculate FCL of all forested land.

FCL Estimate of the Capuchin Corridor (total carbon stock, year 0)

The FCL value from above-ground carbon is 55% of the FCL value when all carbon pools are taken into account.

Calculating FCL Year-Over-Year

The real value of FCL is tracking forest carbon over time. Indeed, the name Forest Carbon Ledger refers to the ledger of forest carbon that is updated on an annual basis.

At the end of each year, we take another round of aerial images and analyze it for changes in forest cover relative to the previous year. Specifically, we determine how much forest was deforested, degraded, or maintained. Likewise, we refer to our biomass inventories to estimate the carbon cost of deforestation (forest that is converted to non-forest) and degradation (mature forest converted to secondary forest).

In the case of the Capuchin Corridor, we assume the following:

• If “mature evergreen forest” or “mature wet forest” is degraded, it becomes “secondary evergreen forest.”
• If “dry forest & semi-deciduous forest” is degraded, it becomes “degraded dry/semi-deciduous forest.”
• If “secondary evergreen forest” or “degraded dry/semi-deciduous forest” is further degraded, it is considered to be deforested.
• If any land is deforested, its carbon value is no longer counted on the FCL ledger.

Meanwhile, we assume that mature forest that remains intact still contains the same amount of carbon as it did the previous year. And we assume that secondary forest that remains intact has actually increased its carbon stock relative to the previous year.

Calculating CO2 Uptake by Immature Forests

To determine the annual average carbon uptake of secondary forests, we use this formula:

(Carbon density of mature forest – carbon density of secondary forest) / 30 years x 3.67

This assumes that, on average, it takes a secondary forest 30 years of growth to accumulate the same level of aboveground carbon as is contained by a mature forest. This is informed from Sierra (2012).

In the case of the Capuchin Corridor, the annual carbon uptake of secondary evergreen forests is:

(116.8 mg C/ha – 66.3 mg C/ha) / 30 = 1.68 mg C/ha per year.

To convert C to CO2, we multiply 1.68 x 3.67 = 6.18 Mg CO2/ha per year.

This means that, on average, each hectare of secondary evergreen forest removes 6.18 tons of CO2 from the atmosphere per year as it continues to grow. After 30 years, it will (on average) effectively reach its maximum carbon stock.

Likewise, the annual CO2 uptake of “Degraded Dry/Semi-Deciduous Forest” is:

(70.3 – 40.8)/30 x 3.67 = 3.61 Mg CO2/ha per year.

We don’t need to amortize annual CO2 uptake by dividing it by 50 because the annual uptake is already an annual number.

The FCL Ledger in Action: 3-Year Example

All of the above changes to the total carbon stock of the forest are fed back into the ledger at the end of each year. Here’s a hypothetical FCL ledger over a three-year period in the Capuchin Corridor.

Note: although the spreadsheet below takes up a lot of space, it’s not complicated. It’s just an annual tally of forest cover and CO2 storage, in the form of a spreadsheet. Putting it on the blockchain would add a layer of complexity, but it’s still a straightforward calculation that merely reports data gleaned from aerial imagery. That’s is one of the principle virtues of FCL.

Performance-Based Results

If the carbon stock of the Capuchin Corridor doesn’t remain steady or increase over a given year, payments may be suspended. For a deep dive into how this mechanism would work, see the “FCL in the Event of Deforestation” section of Flipping REDD+ on Its Head: The Forest Carbon Ledger Is a New Valuation Method.

In the 3-year ledger example above, the general performance summary is the following:

Notice that there is no counterfactual analysis here. We’re not comparing this performance to what maybe could have happened in an alternate universe in which the project was not undertaken. We’re simply tabulating the entire carbon stock of the entire forest, every single year, and using that number to determine the CO2 value.

Permanence & Leakage

As with any REDD+ project, we also must conduct a non-permanence risk analysis of the Capuchin Corridor. This includes natural, internal, and external risks to the viability of the project and the longevity of the carbon stock of the forest.

In terms of natural risks, forest fires have never been recorded in the Capuchin Corridor. This bodes well for the permanence of carbon stocks in the region. We do live in a changing climate, which renders fire risk relatively less predictable than it would have been a few decades ago. Nevertheless, the fire risk in the Capuchin Corridor, relative even to some parts of the Brazilian Amazon, is quite low.

Verra assesses internal risk accordingly to the following factors: project management, financial viability, opportunity costs, and project longevity. External risks assessment includes issues of land tenure, community engagement, and political risk.

A comprehensive non-permanence risk assessment of the Capuchin Corridor project is still under construction. In the meantime, we’ll assume a 15% risk buffer & leakage discount.

For a more in-depth look at how FCL treats leakage, refer to the “Leakage” section in Flipping REDD+ on Its Head: The Forest Carbon Ledger Is a New Valuation Method.

REDD+ Estimate of the Capuchin Corridor

The same company that performed the second land cover assessment—The Landscapes & Livelihoods Group (TLLG)—also performed the REDD+ estimation for the Capuchin Corridor. TLLG is a carbon project developer and monitoring specialist accredited by Plan Vivo, a carbon offset standard with a strong emphasis on empowering rural communities.

TLLG used aerial imagery over the past seven years to measure deforestation and forest degradation rates in this area over that time span. From these numbers, they estimated future CO2 emissions during a business-as-usual scenario (i.e., no conservation project is implemented) versus a scenario in which the Capuchin Corridor conservation project is implemented.

The difference between these two numbers = the net carbon benefit of the project. In this case, we assumed 15% risk buffer and leakage discount, and a 75% effectiveness rate. The table below shows the net carbon benefit across all 37,000 hectares that TLLG measured within the Capuchin Corridor. We also show a comparison between values for total carbon stock versus carbon from above-ground biomass.

The table below assumes a risk buffer & leakage discount of 15% and an effectiveness rate of 75%.

The baseline numbers in the table above are informed by projections of annual deforestation and degradation rates in the future—in this case, over a five-year period of the future. These deforestation rates are extrapolated from historic deforestation rates in the same area as well as adjacent areas that are judged to be comparable in terms of topography, demographics, road access, economic pressures, political conditions, etc. It’s a subjective estimate.

Side-by-Side Comparison of FCL and REDD+ Estimates

The table below presents a side-by-side comparison of the two different carbon accounting methodologies (FCL vs REDD+) in the estimation of annual CO2 benefit of the Capuchin Corridor, both in terms of total carbon stock and AGB carbon. .

The annual CO2 benefits are nearly identical when measuring all carbon pools, with FCL computing a bit higher. When only above-ground carbon is measured, REDD+ is higher.

Cloud forest at the headwaters of Camarones River Basin (Jama-Coaque Reserve)

Piloting FCL in the Camarones Watershed

At the time of publishing this article, the Capuchin Corridor does not have carbon funding. Our plan is to pilot the FCL system in the Camarones River Basin, which occupies 2,980 hectares in the heart of the Capuchin Corridor. Then we would expand to to the Capuchin Corridor.

The Camarones River Basin is the site of the Jama-Coaque Reserve, which is where TMA pilots most its projects before expanding out into the rest of the Capuchin Corridor. The Camarones River Basin is inhabited by 91 families totaling about 400 people. The FCL estimations for above-ground carbon is below.

FCL Estimate of the Camarones River Basin (above-ground carbon, year 0)

Equitable Distribution of Carbon Revenue

For any forest-based carbon project—be it REDD+ or FCL—it’s important to ask how the carbon revenue is distributed. In the worst of cases, local communities are excluded from carbon revenue, or receive only a token share of it.

But forest conservation and restoration projects—particularly community-based projects like the Capuchin Corridor—only work if the people who live in the project area are fully engaged and take an active role in both the decisions and the work.

The Plan Vivo certification standard, which is arguably the most progressive in the field, requires that at least 60% of carbon revenue is distributed to the communities that live in the project area.

Our proposal, for both the Camarones Watershed and the Capuchin Corridor, is to allocate 20% of carbon revenue for direct costs associated with project implementation, monitoring, and verification. The remaining 80% will be distributed to all communities living in the project area.

A significant share of community funds—40%—will be distributed directly to each household in the project area. Families can use these funds to cover costs for higher education and/or vocational training, start-up capital for regenerative agriculture and other micro-enterprises, and specialized health care.

The majority of these funds—60%— will be allocated to a community trust, which is administered by a representative body of community members in service of executing a collectively agreed-upon development plan—also called a “Life Plan.”

The Life Plan is a concept developed by indigenous communities in the Amazon. It’s akin to a community “development plan” but goes beyond the basic economic and social programs associated with conventional 20th century development. It aims at overall community well-being.

Community Life Plans typically focus their investment on building and improving schools, health care, public works such as parks and play fields, off-grid energy sources such as solar panels and battery banks, communications infrastructure like satellite internet, start-up capital for small businesses, support for cultural activities, grants for arts, etc.

In other words, collective investments that improve human capital and enhance the quality of life in a meaningful way.

But the FCL funding opportunities above are tied to the carbon stock of the project area. Therein lies the powerful collective incentive to protect and restore important tracts of forests. Doing so is economically advantageous for the people who live in the area.

Next Steps

• Submit the FCL concept to the forest conservation and carbon offset community, listen to constructive feedback, and continue to refine it.
• Pursue high-quality LIDAR and multispectral imagery of the project area.
• Assess non-permanence risk.
• Continue to support local communities as they deliberate and design of their Life Plan development goals.
• Work with crypto/blockchain specialists to design an FCL registry on the blockchain and/or explore other ways to ensure transparency and prevent double counting of carbon benefits.
• Pursue funding for the FCL pilot project in the Camarones Watershed ($291,000 per year, using a carbon price of $25/ton of CO2 and only counting above-ground biomass).
• Use our experience implementing the pilot project to prepare for and refine a larger project applied to the entire Capuchin Corridor.
• Use our experience building the Capuchin Corridor to spark other FCL projects in other parts of Ecuador and throughout the tropics.

Additional Reading

• Flipping REDD+ on Its Head: The Forest Carbon Ledger (FCL) is a new valuation method
• Brief Summary of the Capuchin Corridor: A 40,000-hectare rainforest conservation & restoration project
• Full-Spectrum Forest Valuation: A holistic model for quantifying the monetary value of a forest
• How to Finance Global Ecological Prosperity: Creation of the International Biosphere Fund, modeled (somewhat) like the IMF
• The Most Endangered Rainforest You’ve Never Heard Of: An intimate portrait of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador

The post Comparing the Forest Carbon Ledger (FCL) to REDD+ appeared first on TMA.

Shortly after the first-known scientific expedition to Cerro Pata de Pájaro, the world-renowned biologists who authored the report died in a plane crash in the mountains of coastal Ecuador. It was a tragic beginning to a conservation legacy that TMA is working to continue and dramatically scale up, hand-in-hand with our local partner organization Fundación Ecológica Tercer Mundo (FETMU). At stake is the 4,333-hectare (10,707-acre) forest of Cerro Pata de Pájaro.

It includes roughly 1,000 acres of old-growth cloud forest—arguably the most pristine remnant of Pacific Forest left in Ecuador. Yet the rest of it has suffered substantial deforestation during the decades before and after it was declared a forest preserve. Much work still needs to be done to protect the remaining forest and restore what has already been cleared.

Connecting Cerro Pata de Pajaro to the Jama-Coaque Reserve will be the core challenge of the Capuchin Corridor, spanning a 43-km stretch of Ecuador’s coastal mountain range.

Contents

• In Homage to Our Predecessors
• The 1990s in Coastal Ecuador
• The Historic 1992 Expedition
• Primary-Growth Pacific Forest
• Local Residents Taking Action
• An Ambitious Legal Strategy
• The Plane Crash
• Eating Away at the Forest
• Meeting Rosario Castillo and Carlos Robles
• Another Tragedy
• The Dream of the Capuchin Corridor
• Luis Madrid and the Birth of FETMU
• The Marriage of TMA and FETMU
• Where It Stands Today

The perpetual cloud layer cloaking the peaks of Cerro Pata de Pájaro

In Homage to Our Predecessors

Among conservationists working in coastal Ecuador, the ground-breaking work completed in the 1990s is considered legendary. The fact that these pioneering studies occurred less than thirty years ago attests to how neglected this region once was. Since then, it has been declared the core area of a global biodiversity hotspot.

This timely shift in scientific attention is primarily due to the work conducted by a small cadre of world-renowned biologists in the 1990s—namely Ted Parker, Alwyn Gentry, Calaway Dodson, John Carr, David Neill, and John Clark. Likewise, conservation organizations like The Nature Conservancy, Conservation International, EcoCiencia, and Fundación Natura were the first institutions to fund and support these studies. Those are the shoulders on which our work, at TMA, is able to stand.

The 1990s in Coastal Ecuador

The 1990s was the last decade of a century during which the vast majority of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador was lost to agricultural expansion and cattle pasture. In a country in which deforestation has touched all parts, the western coast of Ecuador has undoubtedly suffered the most.

The wave of human colonization and agricultural expansion that occurred in the eastern US in the 1700s, and the western US in the 1800s, occurred in coastal Ecuador in the 1900s. Owing to its tropical climate, rich volcanic soils, and access to ocean-faring ports, the coastal lowlands quickly became the breadbasket of Ecuador and the source of its primary exports. By the end of the century, approximately 98% of the region’s original forest had been degraded or deforested.

Deforested hillsides on the southern flank of the Bosque Protector

Calaway Dodson and Alwyn Gentry’s seminal report from 1991, “Biological Extinction in Western Ecuador,” provides details on how that process unfolded. It also sounded an alarm bell across the global conservation community. In response, Conservation International spearheaded a series of expeditions, under the auspices of their “Rapid Assessment Program” (RAP), to evaluate the extent of and threats to biodiversity throughout the region. The result was a report titled “Status of Forest Remnants in the Cordillera de la Costa and Adjacent Areas,” published in 1992.

One of the little-known sites surveyed in this report was an old-growth forest at the top of one of the highest peaks of the Ecuadorian coastal mountain range, looming over a bustling, somewhat ragtag town. The name of that peak is Cerro Pata de Pájaro—often simply called Pata de Pájaro (PDP).

It was the first-known biological survey of the area. Indeed, it was the first time PDP was even mentioned in academic literature. The result of this report was the creation of a protected area covering 4,333 hectares (10,707 acres)…at least, on paper. 

Reality tells a more nuanced story.

The lush, stratified cloud forest in Cerro Pata de Pájaro

The Historic 1992 Expedition

The Rapid Assessment expeditions of 1991 and 1992 were led by Ted Parker, widely considered “the finest field birder / ornithologist that the world had ever seen,” in addition to the great botanist Alwyn Gentry and the herpetologist John L. Carr, among others.

Of all the entries in the report, the most intriguing description was that of PDP. It begins, unassumingly enough: “The small (nearly 800 masl) but conspicuous mountain of Cerro Pata de Pájaro stands by itself not far from the coast near the equator…just east of Pedernales (00°02′ N, 79°58′ W). It is apparently the highest mountain of the northern coastal range between Portoviejo and Esmeraldas.”

For the sake of comparison, the peaks of PDP are 20% taller than even the highest peaks of the Jama-Coaque Reserve. As you may recall from our previous article that describes the Pacific Forest of Ecuador, a high elevation forest in close proximity to the Pacific Ocean, in the neighborhood of the equator, means one thing: cloud forest.  

Says the RAP: “Cerro Pato de Pájaro is enveloped in clouds most of the year, even through the dry season… This results in a ‘cloud forest’ 20-30 m tall at higher elevations, heavily laden with moss, epiphytes, and hemiepiphytes.”

Even though they’re only 20 km apart, the cloud forest of PDP is different than the cloud forest of the Jama-Coaque Reserve in several notable ways. In addition to reaching a higher elevation, PDP is one step further northward into the sphere of influence of the El Niño ocean current—which places it more squarely in the domain of the Chocó wet forest. Furthermore, the peaks of PDP had never been logged.  

As the report continues, Robin B. Foster, the lead plant ecologist who authored the botanical portion of the report, hits us with this tantalizing passage: “The cloud forest flora does not show any particular affinities to one region. Rather, it has a mixture of species known from the fog forests of the Chongón-Colonche mountains to the south, the wet forests of the Muisne mountains farther north, the low cloud forests of the western Andes, and a number of species we have not yet noted anywhere else (Appendix 15).”

Parker, Foster, and crew were especially struck by the predominance of one towering tree species in particular—Carapa guianensis, locally known as tangaré. “It is extraordinary to see such a large population of large trees of this valuable species, probably the largest—if not the only—stand remaining in the Cordillera de la Costa. At each site we visited in this mountain range, even if the rest of the forest remained intact, the mature trees of Carapa have been removed by axe or chain saw… The same is true on the wet western slopes of the Andes from Pichincha to Azuay and in the hills of the Río Santiago-Cayapas area of Esmeraldas.”

They went on to note various other endemic and extraordinary plants. “An unusual new species of Bauhinia with large, bright red flowers coming out of the trunk, was found in a small, monospecific grove on the ridge here, and nowhere else. Other species of Bauhinia with these characteristics are known only from Africa (R. Fortunato, pers. comm.). A one-hectare clearing made within the next few years would wipe out the known population. Further investigation of the flora on these slopes is urgently needed.”

A bauhinia flower in the hands of Carlos Robles (2022)

Primary-Growth Pacific Forest

From the perspective of any conservationist familiar with the Pacific Forest of Ecuador, the most exciting revelation from the RAP was the fact that the forest on the mountaintop had never been logged. Even thirty years ago, this was unheard of in coastal Ecuador.

As a point of reference, the Jama-Coaque Reserve has substantial swaths of tall, majestic forest with minimal evidence of selective logging in the past—a class of forest that we call “mature forest.” But PDP, according to this description, was still endowed with its primeval structure.

Previously, the term “primary-growth forest” was used to describe a forest that has never been logged, let alone cleared. In recent years, “old-growth forest” has become regarded as the more appropriate term. In the RAP, they explicitly describe it: “Except for the tiny clearing on the eastern peak and an old boundary line cut on the western ridge, there is no indication of any tree-cutting in the cloud forest that covers the top of the mountain.” This was further corroborated by the presence of undisturbed stands of giant tangaré trees in the cloud forest.  

The logical next question is: how could this be? Why would a mountaintop forest, close to a relatively large population center, be spared the fate suffered throughout the rest of coastal Ecuador?

The answer is found in a topographical anomaly. Whereas the mountaintop itself is relatively flat—a plateau, if you will—the slopes that lead up to it, on all sides, are forbiddingly steep. As explained in the RAP: “The last third of the climb from 550 m to 750 m is very steep and slippery, prohibitive to mules and requiring the use of all four human limbs.”

The only way to haul logs out of a steep forest is with mules. And if the ascent is too steep for mules, there is no logging. That’s what saved the cloud forest from timber extraction. Unfortunately, this doesn’t prevent the clearing of a forest for purposes of agriculture or cattle…

In any event, the mere suggestion of an unlogged old-growth forest in TMA’s extended area of operations was, to say the least, thrilling. Eventually seeing it with my own eyes, nearly twenty years later, was even more thrilling.

From the from the lowland forest of PDP, with the shores of the Pacific Ocean in the distance (photo by Carlos Robles)

Local Residents Taking Action

One of the key passages in the RAP spoke to the encroaching deforestation surrounding PDP and the apparent apathy of nearby communities, particularly of Pedernales—a large town of 75,000 people immediately downriver of PDP. “This isolated mountaintop wet forest of ca. 800 ha is said (by local people) to be protected, but is obviously being cleared continuously around the entire lower periphery. The watershed importance of this forest to surrounding communities, especially to Pedernales, is obvious to us, but apparently not well understood by local residents.”

This statement, however, is not entirely true. There were a handful of local Pedernales residents that clearly did understand PDP’s importance, both as a reservoir of biodiversity and a factory of fresh water, among other benefits. They were led by Luis Madrid, a local bird enthusiast who recently graduated from high school, and Rosario Castillo, a woman who ran a local hardware store, along with a handful of others. It was a humble collection of local conservationists with no institutional backing or funding source. Their only asset was passion and commitment.

The bustling town of Pedernales, pre-earthquake (photo by Victoria Nicodemus, 2015)

One year after the publication of the RAP, this team of local conservationists created a nonprofit organization under the name Fundación Ecológica Tercer Mundo (FETMU). It took three years to legally constitute the organization—a process that was completed in 1995. Impressively, that same year they succeeded in registering the PDP mountaintop and a vast swath of surrounding land as a forest preserve. The official name was “Bosque Protector Cerro Pata de Pájaro,” with FETMU granted the responsibility of managing it.  

“Bosque Protector” was a legal designation for private forest preserves that are formally recognized by the Ecuadorian government as such. The government, however, was not under any real obligation to help fund or manage it—leaving FETMU to fend for itself. As a local organization with limited access to international funding sources, this was a problem.

To make matters even more complicated, much of the land included in the Bosque Protector declaration was already—at the time of declaration—being actively farmed by people who didn’t own legal title to the land but did (and still do) have possession rights.

A homestead on the flanks of Cerro Pata de Pájaro

An Ambitious Legal Strategy

Here’s how the authors of the RAP described the extent of the intact forest in PDP in 1992: “We did see or pass through several large patches of forest on the upper mountain flanks…. They represent a sizeable area of wet forest around the mountaintop. By combining these wet forests with the approximately 2 km2 of cloud forest, the total area for a reserve of intact forest could be as much as 8 km2.” This equates to 800 hectares (nearly 2,000 acres).

That may not sound like a large area, but for an old-growth forest in coastal Ecuador, it’s massive.  

Luis Madrid, who was only 23 years old when FETMU was founded, agreed with this assessment. He explained to me that, from the beginning, FETMU’s most urgent goal was to protect the 800 hectares (nearly 2,000 acres) of primary-growth forest on the mountaintop. But they were keenly aware that if the surrounding forest was lost, the forest at the top of the mountain would not be viable as wildlife habitat nor as an ecosystem capable of sustaining its moisture and water cycle, and the system would collapse.

The authors of the RAP were clearly worried about this. They wrote, “It may be just a matter of time before the colonists on the lower slopes work their way up. On the side of Atahualpa, the clearings already extend up to 600-650 m along the trail, only a few hundred meters distance from the ridge crest at that point.”

Cattle pasture inside the Bosque Protector and creeping up into the cloud forest at the mountaintop

It should also be noted that the forest of PDP generates 100% of the freshwater supply to all 75,000 residents of Pedernales and surrounding communities. Losing this forest would be a social and economic catastrophe for the region, let alone an ecological one.  

To forestall this scenario, FETMU pushed to register as much land as they could as part of the Bosque Protector—even land that was already being farmed. Protecting a larger area would also increase the likelihood that the application for Bosque Protector would be approved by the government and respected by the country’s National System of Protected Areas (SNAP, in Spanish). They effectively drew a map that included all mountainous land starting from an elevation line of about 325 meters above sea level (1,066 feet) up to the peak at 840 meters (2,700 feet). This demarcation covered an area of 4,333 hectares (10,707 acres).

Again, this was a theoretical designation. The Bosque Protector declaration didn’t guarantee that the forest would be protected in practice. And despite the best efforts of FETMU, deforestation continued.

As this all unfolded, tragedy struck. Twice.

The Plane Crash

As reported in the New York Times on August 6, 1993, less than one year after the publication of the RAP:

“Two Americans ranked among the world’s leading field biologists were killed on Tuesday when an airplane they were using to make a tree-top survey of the Ecuadorian coast crashed into a cloud-shrouded mountain. They were Theodore A. Parker III, a 40-year-old ornithologist and senior scientist for Conservation International, and Alwyn Gentry, 48, a botanist and senior curator at the Missouri Botanical Garden…”

The fledgling international campaign to conserve the Pacific Forest of Ecuador lost two of its leading voices, suddenly and without warning.

Eating Away at the Forest

Even by 1992, much of the forest on the flanks of the mountain had already suffered degradation and/or deforestation—mostly in the form of “clearings for bananas, coffee, cacao, and cattle” (as stated in the RAP). This was prior to the declaration of Bosque Protector status.

In the years following the accident and the subsequent Bosque Protector declaration, deforestation continued. This was not for lack of effort on the part of FETMU. Without access to international funding sources and without any assistance by local or national government, even the most committed conservation organizations face an uphill battle. FETMU was never allowed enough of a runway to develop alternative revenue sources nor properly develop as an organization, let alone conduct the conservation and restoration activities it desperately wanted to conduct.

“The powers that be” didn’t help the matter. One year after the Bosque Protector was established, a highway was built that cut through the northern part of the forest—effectively slicing it into two sections.

Meanwhile, the relentless momentum of agricultural expansion continued up the mountain from all sides. This was spurred onward by interest-free loans offered to farmers in exchange for converting land—including forest—into coffee plantations.

Numerous paved roads now cut through the Bosque Protector, opening the door to more deforestation

There was no way for people to purchase legal titles to land inside the official boundaries of the Bosque Protector, but this didn’t stop people from simply claiming land, cutting it down for coffee, corn, or cattle, and even building homes. Possession rights for these properties were bought and sold and handed down to hereditary descendants.

Although the forest on the flanks of the mountain was getting chewed up, the forest on the mountaintop remained unlogged—thanks, again, to the topography. But the mountaintop wasn’t immune to hunting. And, in one case, a small section was cleared for agriculture. It was only a matter of time until the inevitable march of low-intensity agriculture first degraded and then eventually deforested the old-growth forest at the top of Cerro Pata de Pájaro.

FETMU kept working. Importantly, they purchased the possession rights to 400 hectares (nearly 1,000 acres) at the very peak of the mountaintop—effectively, the heart of the old-growth forest. But they had no resources with which to protect the land, and their personnel was limited to a handful of locals who volunteered their time—including a man named Carlos Robles.

Another homestead within the legal bounds of the Bosque Protector

Meeting Rosario Castillo and Carlos Robles

Shortly after we created the Jama-Coaque Reserve, in 2007, we started hearing stories about this other forest called Cerro Pata de Pájaro. It was located at the northern end of the same mountain range as the Jama-Coaque Reserve—a mere 20 km away but very difficult to access. Occasionally when we came to Pedernales to buy supplies, and the clouds parted to the south, we could see its peaks far in the distance.

We started asking around about it. Most people in town had no information. At one point, someone told us to go into a hardware store called Zurita and ask for the lady who managed it. And so we did. Standing behind the counter was Rosario Castillo (affectionately known as “Charito”). She was an exceptionally kind and sweet older lady who ran the largest hardware store in a roughneck pioneer town.  

TMA co-founder Isabel Davila and I—barely a year into our conservation career—told her about the Jama-Coaque Reserve, which protected a mere 110 hectares (270 acres) at that point. She was delighted by the news and warmly welcomed us into the small club of conservationists in a little-known bioregion that we would later call the Capuchin Corridor. That’s when she first told us about FETMU and the Bosque Protector. And then she said, “You need to meet Carlos Robles.”

The following day, we did.

Carlos Robles in the cloud forest (2021)

An utterly singular and charismatic figure, Carlos Robles has an interesting backstory. He was born in Pedernales, raised in the Amazon rainforest, and then returned to Pedernales as a young man. Trained as a hunter, he underwent a quasi-religious conversion to become the most passionate and outspoken conservationist in all of Pedernales. At one point in his career, he was called in to speak in front of the president of Ecuador on the subject of mangrove restoration—and addressed the president by his first name. He’s the kind of guy who other hunters don’t want to mess with. And he absolutely loves plants and snakes.

We immediately hit it off with Carlos. Together we hiked up to the cloud forest at the top of the PDP, and a few weeks later we returned the favor by showing him the cloud forest at the top of the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

That was in 2009.

During the years that followed, we stayed in close touch with both Carlos and Rosario. We wanted to help FETMU as much as we could, but—strapped for cash and short-handed with our own project—there wasn’t too much TMA could do, other than stay in contact. 

Carlos visited the Jama-Coaque Reserve numerous times during that span—proving himself to be our most important regional conservation ally. And, with the perpetual construction and repairs to the Bamboo House, we became loyal customers at Zurita. Rosario gave us a friends-and-family discount. Her kind face behind the counter was the nicest part of our visits to Pedernales.

Pedernales a few weeks after a 7.8 magnitude earthquake, 2016

Another Tragedy

On April 16, 2016, a magnitude 7.8 earthquake rocked the coast of Ecuador. It was the worst natural disaster to hit Ecuador since 1947. Pedernales, which was 40 kilometers south of the epicenter, was hit the hardest. According to official statistics, over 16,000 people were injured and 676 people were killed. Among the people who lost their lives was Rosario.

The Dream of the Capuchin Corridor

The dream of building a conservation corridor that connects PDP to the Jama-Coaque Reserve was born on that first day we hiked up into the old-growth cloud forest with Carlos Robles in 2009. But at first, this dream felt like an impossible one. It was something to which we aspired—something to shoot for in the distant future, if ever.

Our attitude, at the time, was: first things first. We knew that we first needed to expand the Jama-Coaque Reserve and strengthen TMA as an organization. Over the next 10+ years, that’s exactly what we did.

The turning point for us came during the pandemic. For a series of related and unrelated reasons, we felt an increasing sense of urgency. As an organization, TMA had also crossed a threshold of maturity. Our team was strong, we had greater access to funding sources, the Jama-Coaque Reserve kept growing, and we had over a decade of experience under belt. We had learned—through many years of trial-and-error—how to efficiently manage forest conservation and restoration projects on an increasingly larger scale.

Meanwhile, forest throughout the rest of the region continued to dwindle. There was a distinct “it’s now or never” feeling about building the region-wide conservation corridor that we first started dreaming about with Carlos Robles a decade earlier.

Luis Madrid and the Birth of FETMU

This is when Luis Madrid re-enters the story. With some interesting parallels to that of Carlos–they both spent their formative years in the Amazon–Luis also has an interesting backstory. He was born in the Andean city of Loja and moved to the Amazon with his family at a young age. As an 11-year-old boy, he remembers shooting rocks with a slingshot at military helicopters, as they hovered low over the Amazon treetops, during the Ecuadorian-Peruvian War of 1981.

As a teenager, his family moved across the country to Pedernales, where his father worked as a land surveyor. Indeed it was his father who first planted the seed of forest conservation inside young Luis’s head. As a land surveyor, his father knew the forest of PDP and saw, first-hand, what was happening to it. He told Luis—a young man just starting out in life—that this rare forest would quickly be lost if nothing was done about it.

Luis took the hint. With his friend Luis Duenas, a U.S. Peace Corps volunteer named Andrew Perleberg, and a few other people, together they created FETMU and quickly established the Bosque Protector. 

Shortly thereafter, his lifelong obsession with birds having firmly taken root, Luis decided to go to university and eventually pursue a Ph.D. in ornithology in—of all places—the Central Asian steppe. He spent the next decade and a half of his life in Eurasia.

During that time, Rosario Castillo and Carlos Robles did their best to keep FETMU afloat and the forest of PDP alive. 

Luis Madrid (left) and Carlos Robles (right) in the cloud forest of PDP (2022) 

The Marriage of TMA and FETMU

Shortly after the earthquake of 2016, Luis Madrid returned to Pedernales–this time as a professor at the local university. Rosario had passed away, and Carlos Robles–as passionate as ever about conservation–was busy managing a beachside hotel with his wife and raising their daughter. With an annual budget of zero dollars, and no staff, FETMU’s capacity to manage PDP had reached its lowest point. By 2020, the prized old-growth cloud forest on the mountaintop had been reduced to 400 hectares (nearly 1,000 acres).  

TMA, meanwhile, was hitting its stride as a conservation organization–thanks, in large part, to its access to international funding sources. It was time for the dream of a region-wide conservation corridor to become reality.

Beginning in 2020, TMA and FETMU began a series of strategy meetings. Typically they took place at either a ceviche restaurant on the beach in Pedernales or sitting on a log in a cloud forest. 

Over time, the two organizations collectively designed a strategy to connect Pata de Pajaro to the Jama-Coaque Reserve via a 43-km conservation corridor named in the honor of the critically endangered Ecuadorian Capuchin Monkey, which is found in both forest preserves and in very few other places anywhere else on earth. TMA also offered to co-manage PDP with FETMU and to provide PDP–for the first time–with the resources and personnel it needed to be a viable forest preserve over the long term.

The collaboration between FETMU and TMA was formalized in October of 2022. Our collective goal: protect the entirety of the old-growth forest in PDP and work with neighboring farmers to guarantee the restoration and protection of all land within the 4,333-hectare boundary that was originally declared a Bosque Protector in 1995. And to connect this forest preserve to the Jama-Coaque Reserve via the Capuchin Corridor. 

Ryan Lynch, executive director of TMA, and Luis Madrid, executive director of FETMU, formalizing the cooperation agreement in the Bamboo House of the Jama-Coaque Reserve (2022)

Where It Stands Today

FETMU now has a small but growing team of trained professionals who are actively working in PDP, funded by TMA and led by Luis and Carlos. TMA also provides additional personnel, equipment (i.e., camera traps, signs, uniforms), and administrative resources to fill in the gaps. PDP is finally being allocated the resources needed to protect it. 

Taking into account all of the Bosque Protector and the projected expansion of the Jama-Coaque Reserve, TMA is working with over 6,000 hectares (15,000 acres) of Pacific Forest. It is characterized by large tracts of intact forest surrounded by patches of deforested or degraded land that we’re reforesting through a combination of assisted natural regeneration and community agroforestry.

But if we’ve learned anything from the past, it is this: in the absence of government support, conservation projects in places like coastal Ecuador only succeed when they are managed by a dedicated team of people that work year-round. This requires financial resources. Creating an endowment fund to manage the Capuchin Corridor is of critical importance for the long-term viability of conservation in this region.

This is just the beginning, and we know there is a long way to go. In any event, we’d like to believe that the late Ted Parker, Alwyn Gentry, and Rosario Castillo would be pleased. And to all of the other conservationists out there—weathered veterans and rising stars alike—we cordially invite you to join the effort. We still need help.

Help Protect The Pacific Forest of Ecuador

Field teams from FETMU and TMA together at the top of Cerro Pata de Pájaro, June 2022. From left to right: Eliana Mera, Luis Madrid, Carlos Robles, Jerry Toth, Pablo Bermudez, Dany Murillo, and Moises Tenorio.

The post Saving the Old-Growth Cloud Forest of Cerro Pata de Pájaro appeared first on TMA.

TMA and its partners are building a large-scale conservation corridor that will protect and restore one of the last remnants of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador. The project is named in honor of the Ecuadorian White-Fronted Capuchin Monkey, which is endemic to the area and officially listed as critically endangered.

We’ve been laying the groundwork for this project since 2007. We started by creating the Jama-Coaque Reserve, which is the cornerstone. Our next step was to resurrect the nearly defunct Bosque Protector Cerro Pata de Pájaro in the north of the corridor, starting in 2021. All the pieces—personnel, expertise, organizational framework, field experience, and community standing—are in place to finish the job over the next ten years.

• Includes large-scale wilderness preservation combined with targeted regenerative agroforestry with local farmers.
• Protected forest is managed by local communities through TMA’s Community Forests Program (Bosques Comunitarios)
• Partially financed by direct carbon contributions and potentially through biodiversity credits

Call to Action

We are actively seeking additional funders who want to help build a rainforest conservation corridor at scale in a global biodiversity hotspot.

Chocó cloud forest in Cerro Pata de Pájaro.

What

• Total Corridor Area: 98,800 acres (40,000 hectares) spanning a 43-km mountain range on the Pacific coast of Ecuador, straddling the equator line.
• Forest Protection & Restoration Zone: 35,000 acres (14,000 hectares)
• Cost: $31 million over 10 years
• Net Carbon Benefit: 110,260 tons of CO2 per year (View the carbon assessment)
• Water Security: Provides freshwater to 79,000 people
• Inhabitants: 36 rural communities across 23 different watersheds, containing a total of 17,000 people. These are the primary stakeholders in this project.
• Local Jobs: Will generate income for over 500 families (Learn how in this 2-minute animated video)
• Ecological Diversity: Protects Chocó rainforest and cloud forest, moist evergreen forest, semi-deciduous forest, and tropical dry forest—all in the same mountain range.

Moist evergreen forest at mid-elevation gives way to cloud forest at the peaks of the Jama-Coaque mountains (Jama-Coaque Reserve).

How

• Protect all remaining tracts of old-growth forest through purchase and/or easement to be managed by local communities (Community Forests Program).
• Restore degraded forest in areas no longer suitable for farming and grazing.
• Connect isolated forest fragments through regenerative agroforestry with local farmers.
• Revenue from carbon and/or biodiversity credits is distributed to local communities in the form of performance-based PES payments in exchange for protecting the forest in their home watersheds.

TMA’s Community Forests Program is a watershed-by-watershed approach to community-based conservation throughout the corridor.

Why

• By the numbers, this is the most endangered rainforest on earth: approximately 2% is left.
• It is classified as a “Species Rarity Site” and “High Biodiversity Area” on Global Safety Net, an open-source science initiative led by One Earth and Resolve.
• It is located at the heart of the Tumbes-Chocó-Magdalena Biodiversity Hotspot.
• There is zero governmental forest protection in this area.
• At the current rate of deforestation, all major tracts of mature forest will likely disappear within the next 20 years.
• This ecosystem is a microcosm of the biosphere in the present era; unsustainable development has brought it to the brink of collapse. We believe our success in restoring it to health will serve as a model for other large-scale forest restoration projects across the planet.
• This specific mountain range is one of the last buffers from extinction for the Ecuadorian White-Fronted Capuchin Monkey.

The critically-threatened Ecuadorian capuchin monkey (Cebus aequatorialis) pictured in a stand of wild bamboo in the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

Learn More

• The pathway to building the Capuchin Corridor is our Community Forests Program.
• For a 2-page outline on the long-term vision of the Capuchin Corridor, check out Long-Term Threats & Plan for Resilience of the Capuchin Corridor: Management Guide for the Coming Decades.
• View the carbon assessment of the Capuchin Corridor and Camarones River Basin.
• Watch a video of an Ecuadorian White-Fronted Capuchin Monkey taken by a trail camera positioned in the canopy of a tree in the Jama-Coaque Reserve.
• To learn more about the Pacific Forest of Ecuador, check out The Most Endangered Forest You’ve Never Heard Of

Strangler Fig (Ficus sp.) in the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

The post Brief Overview of the Capuchin Corridor appeared first on TMA.

In coastal Ecuador, at zero degrees latitude, a few kilometers inland from the Pacific Ocean, on a densely forested mountain range shrouded in fog, is one of the most extraordinary and vulnerable ecosystems on planet Earth – the Pacific Forest of Ecuador. Future generations may never get a chance to see it. Hopefully they will.

For a brief visual synopsis of this article, you can also take a quick photo tour of Pacific Forest of Ecuador.

Contents

• An Unidentified Forest
• A Rainforest Preserve is Born
• The International Community Weighs In
• Defining an Ecoregion that Defies Definition
• At the Nexus of Mountains and Sea
• The Mountain Ranges
• Chocó Rainforest & Premontane Cloud Forest
• Moist Evergreen Forest
• Tropical Deciduous Forest
• Global Biodiversity Hotspot
• Conservation Priorities
• Final Analysis

The cloud forest of the Jama-Coaque Reserve on the Pacific Coast of Ecuador, province of Manabí.

An Unidentified Forest

In the year 2007, a few newly-hatched rainforest conservationists stepped foot inside the Pacific Forest of Ecuador without knowing anything about it. We had devoted much of the year to exploring every tract of wilderness we could find in Ecuador—from Amazon to Andean cloud forests, and everything in between. But this impromptu expedition to the Pacific coast was somewhat of an outlier. As far as we knew, none of the forest was left.

As it turns out, we were wrong. Nothing we had seen in the entire country compared to what we saw that day. On the crest of Ecuador’s coastal mountain range, about midway between the towns of Jama and Pedernales, we found ourselves in a cloud forest that had never been surveyed by science. Surrounding us in all directions was a sea of deforestation.

Strangler Fig (Ficus sp.) in the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

A Rainforest Preserve is Born

From that very first day, it was apparent that this forest was desperately in danger of entirely disappearing—probably in the next generation, possibly even in a single decade. Even as novice conservationists—which is what we were at the time—we recognized that the conservation value of this cloud forest was higher than anything we had ever seen.

We then hiked back down the mountain, hitched a ride on the back of a truck loaded with sacks of passionfruit, and began a full-time career in rainforest conservation. The first thing we did was create a nonprofit organization (TMA), raise $16,000, and purchase 100 acres at the top of that mountain. This is how the Jama-Coaque Reserve (JCR) was born. Our mission: keep this forest alive.

In our lofty hopes of generating global awareness, however, we faced a few key obstacles. To begin with, nobody really knew what to call this forest. The people who lived in its shadow simply referred to it as “the mountain.” Most Ecuadorians weren’t even aware of its existence.

We used satellite imagery to identify every single large tract of remaining forest in the PFE, and we ground-truthed this data by hiking through the majority of them. The natural range of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador covers 22,835 square kilometers. As of 2021, only 510 square kilometers of this forest are still intact. That’s 2.23%.

The International Community Weighs In

Shortly after the birth of JCR, we learned that the Critical Ecosystem Partnership Fund (CEPF) designated this region as the most threatened tropical forest in South America. They referred to it as the Chocó-Manabí Corridor—an ecoregion that connects the Chocó rainforest of coastal Colombia with the Pacific Forest of Ecuador, particularly in the province of Manabi.

It was an exciting turn of events, but CEPF’s proposal for a large-scale project to save this forest from extinction never came to fruition. The dream of a grand Chocó-Manabi Corridor was temporarily shelved. Once again, the Pacific Forest was largely forgotten.

In fact, the entire ecoregion was so far under the radar that ecologists hadn’t fully agreed on what to call it. The famous botany duo of the previous century—C.H. Dodson and A.H. Gentry—referred to it as the “Forests of Western Ecuador.” Their seminal paper “Biological Extinction in Western Ecuador” (1991) is largely responsible for putting this ecosystem on the global conservation radar.

As much as 98% of the Pacific Forest has been lost in just one century. Most of it has been converted to marginally-productive cattle pasture. Almost the entire ecosystem has been sacrificed to feed cows.

Defining an Ecoregion that Defies Definition

The Pacific Forest of Ecuador is not an easy ecosystem to classify, owing to the fact that it has so many different faces. Various names have been affixed to it, over the years, but none of them really stuck.

One of the most promising attempts came from the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF), who originally referred to it as the “Moist Forests of Western Ecuador.” The problem with this term is that it’s too broad and also too limiting. It aims to cover the entire western lowlands of Ecuador but restricts itself to only one of the many kinds of forest that are found in its range.

The western coast of Ecuador is, in fact, home to six different types of tropical forests. Chocó lowland rainforest, Chocó premontane cloud forest, moist/seasonal evergreen forest, semi-deciduous forest, tropical dry forest, and mangrove forest can all be found in the Pacific Forest of Ecuador. In one particular area—in the northwest of the province of Manabí, between Jama and Pedernales—all of these forests can be encountered over the course of a single day’s hike.

In this sense, the Pacific Forest of Ecuador can best be described as a melting pot of tropical forests. As C.H. Dodson and A.H. noted in “Biological Extinction Extinction in Western Ecuador,” coastal Ecuador harbors 12 distinct Holdridge life zones. The two factors that drive this ecological diversity are the Pacific Ocean and the coastal mountain range.

The Jama-Coaque Cordillera extends from the town of Jama and crosses the equator en route to the town of Pedernales, with views of the Pacific Ocean (top right) visible from the peaks.

At The Nexus of Mountains and Sea

Almost all of the remaining forest in western Ecuador is isolated to the peaks, slopes, and foothills of the coastal mountain range, which runs parallel to the Pacific coast for over 300 kilometers. This low-lying mountain range is the backbone of the Pacific Forest of Ecuador. The ecoregion, as a whole, is thus bounded by the Pacific Ocean and the eastern foothills of the coastal mountain range, from Mache-Chindul in the north to Chongon-Colonche in the south.

This long, narrow stretch of mountainous land contains the widest diversity of tropical forests in South America. It’s also the most threatened.

For these and other reasons, the Pacific Forest of Ecuador often draws comparisons to another one of the world’s great tropical forests: the Atlantic Forest of Brazil. Both forests are overshadowed by their much larger counterpart, the Amazon, but the Pacific Forest and the Atlantic Forest are actually more ecologically diverse, more threatened, and have higher rates of endemism.

The forest diversity of the Pacific Forest actually exceeds that of the Atlantic Forest, despite the fact that the Atlantic Forest covers 33x as much area. In any event, both ecosystems are under immense threat. Approximately 8% of the Atlantic Forest still remains and only 2% of the Pacific Forest remains. Together, they contain more endemic species than anywhere else in the world.

The Mountain Ranges

Across the entire length of coastal Ecuador, there are three major mountain ranges. The Mache-Chindul mountain range occupies the northern coast. It’s primarily located in the wet province of Esmeraldas. The Chongon-Colonche mountain range, on the southern coast, stretches from the southwest corner of Manabí into the dry provinces of Santa Elena and Guayas. The Jama-Coaque mountain range is located in between the two, located in northwest Manabí province. Ecologically, it is the transition between the two extremes.

None of these three mountain ranges are as tall as the Andes mountains, all run parallel to the Pacific Ocean, and all are host to a wide array of forests that have been badly fragmented. But the vegetation contained on the northern and southern ranges is, in some cases, diametrically different. The central mountain range contains elements of both.

There are two key gradients that define vegetation in coastal Ecuador. As a rule of thumb, as you move from north to south, and from mountaintop to beach, the overall level of precipitation decreases. As a result, the forest goes from wet to dry. Generally speaking, most of the forest along the Mache-Chindul mountain range is rainforest or moist forest, and much of the land along the Chongon-Colonche mountain range is either dry forest or semi-deciduous forest.

The Jama-Coaque mountain range is the centerpiece. It is distinguished by two factors: 1) its location at the mid-point of the wet-dry gradient that runs from north to south and 2) its unusually close proximity to the ocean. It is the only stretch of the coastal mountain ranges where the peaks reach their zenith within a mere 8 kilometers of the sea. This means that the wet-dry gradient is compressed into an extremely small area.

Let’s start with the wet part.

Chocó cloud forest in the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

Chocó Rainforest & Premontane Cloud Forest

Not long after the creation of JCR, a team of botanists was tasked with creating Ecuador’s national vegetation map. As part of their research, they visited our newly-established forest preserve to conduct a botanical inventory. In the cloud forest along the peaks of the cordillera, they were delighted and amazed by what they saw: premontane cloud forest. It was the southern-most coastal extension of what the Regiones Naturales de Ecuador classification system by Pontificia Universidad Católica del Ecuador (PUCE) classifies as Bosque Húmedo Tropical del Chocó (Chocó tropical rainforest).

It was something they had never seen this far south and this close to the ocean. Before they arrived, they didn’t believe it existed. And yet, here it was. It changed the way they mapped and classified the vegetation of western Ecuador.

The great Chocó rainforest runs along the Pacific coast of Colombia and extends into northwestern Ecuador, bounded by the western slopes of the Andes and the peaks of the coastal mountain range. The Colombian Chocó is among the wettest rainforests on earth. It competes with the upper Amazon as the most biodiverse place on earth. As the Chocó moves southward into coastal Ecuador, it gradually transitions into the moist evergreen forest of Manabí until it is eventually subsumed by the dry forests of Santa Elena and Guayas.

The Jama-Coaque Reserve is the geographic and ecological midpoint between those two extremes. Depending on where you stand on the mountain, you will see different faces of the Pacific Forest. At the top of the mountain, it’s the Chocó. And 20 km further to the north, at the top Cerro Pata de Pájaro, the Chocó is on full display.

The daily shroud of clouds on the peaks of JCR

The cloud forest in the Jama-Coaque Reserve is the southern-most extension of Chocó rainforest vegetation along the coast of South America. Although this particular stretch of the coastal cordillera only rises 600-700 meters (2,000-2,300 feet) above sea level, its close proximity to the Pacific ocean accounts for the thick blanket of fog that descends upon the forest nearly every single night of the year. It is, in a very real sense, a forest that is fed by the clouds.

What does this unlikely cloud forest look like?

To begin with, almost all visible surfaces are covered in bright green. The forest floor is carpeted with ferns, tree trunks are encased in moss, and epiphytes, orchids, and bromeliads hang from the branches. All of the above is watered on an hourly basis by clouds of fog that float up from the Pacific Ocean and condense into water droplets on the leaves of the trees. The droplets then drip down into the soil and form the basis of the waterways that sustain the life of all animals downstream—humans included.

The Camarones River is born from “fog drip” in the cloud forest. The river flows down the coastal mountains and empties out into the Pacific Ocean. If the forest disappears, so does the river. When the river disappears, human settlements collapse.

Moist Seasonal Evergreen Forest

As you descend from the peaks of the coastal cordillera, down into the elevation range of 250-500 meters (820-1,650 feet), you enter into a different kind of forest.

The terminology of this forest deserves a brief explanation. In their seminal 1991 report “Biological Extinction in Western Ecuador,” the famous botanical duo C.H. Dodson and A.H. Gentry referred to the mid-elevational forest of JCR as “moist forest.” This term was also used by the renowned cast of ecologists who authored another seminal report about the Pacific Forest of Ecuador, spearheaded by Conservation International, titled “Status of Forest Remnants in the Cordillera de la Costa.”

A few decades later, a team of national botanists in Ecuador, who were given the mission to classify every single forest type in the country, officially classified JCR’s lowland forest as “seasonal evergreen forest of the Pacific Equatorial coastal mountain range.” This term is certainly more descriptive, but not always practical in conversation. The formal term we prefer is “moist seasonal evergreen forest.” In less formal occasions, we often simply use Dodson and Gentry’s term: “moist forest.”

The “Bamboo House” research station, hidden in the lowland moist forest of the Jama-Coaque Reserve.

The moist forest is an entirely different world than the cloud forest, even though the transition between the two is often less than 75 meters of elevation difference. The vegetation is evergreen like a rainforest, but there’s a wider range of color tones, and the species are different. The trees are actually taller here, relative to the cloud forest. The canopy of the moist forest is formed by big native hardwood trees, some of them reaching heights of 45 meters (150 feet), often with massively buttressed roots.

There is also a wealth of exotic palm trees with spiny trunks and nuts with the color and consistency of ivory, stands of giant bamboo, and countless little streams tumbling down steep slopes, alternating between waterfalls and itty-bitty swimming holes that are naturally stocked with freshwater prawns.

All of this exists under the watchful eyes of loud-mouthed troops of howler monkeys, critically endangered capuchin monkeys, and ocelots that are rarely seen except in pictures taken by infrared trail cameras fitted with motion sensors.

Ocelot captured on a camera trap in the Jama-Coaque Reserve. One of Mother Nature’s great works of biological art.

Tropical Deciduous Forest

If you keep descending the mountain and walk toward the beach—which you can easily do in an afternoon—you may notice that some of the trees are shedding their leaves. You have reached the semi-deciduous forest. Eventually, after another kilometer or two, you stumble into a full-blown deciduous forest. Otherwise known as “tropical dry forest” as well as “Tumbesian dry forest.” The latter term is explained in the next section.

Tropical dry forest at Pacoche in central Manabi.

The tropical dry forest looks and functions like a rainforest during the rainy season. But in the dry season, the trees shed all of their leaves. From October until December, the trees are as bare as the North Woods in winter—although not because of temperature. The weather is always tropical. Leaf shedding is entirely a function of precipitation. At the base of the coastal cordillera, rainfall is almost nonexistent for half the year.

But the moment the rainy season begins anew, the dry forest explodes back into life in a matter of days. Imagine compressing all of the life energy of springtime into one or two weeks, and then maintaining this feverish biological pitch for about five months, gradually transitioning into a long and leisurely autumn, without any wintertime. That’s the annual cycle of the tropical dry forest in coastal Ecuador. It is an incredible process to watch unfold.

The unprotected 3,400-hectare Cabo Pasado forest, just north of Canoa, is now undergoing real estate development. Here you can see the interplay of tropical dry forest on the ridges (leafless) and semi-deciduous forest in the valleys (still green) during the early stages of the 2021 dry season. (Photo taken by paraglider, courtesy of Peter Stromberg).

It is equally incredible that a tropical dry forest lives just a short walk away from a perpetually wet forest. In northwest Manabí, specifically between Jama and Pedernales, you can literally stand in the cloud forest on the top of the mountain and, looking westward, see a dry forest along the beach.

Because the highway runs along the coast, most motorists who cruise through northern Manabi wrongly assume that tropical dry forest is the dominant vegetation type. They have no idea that a cloud forest looms overhead in the mountains.

View from the peaks of the coastal cordillera in JCR, facing the beaches of Pedernales in the distance.

Global Biodiversity Hotspot

This brings us to yet another classification that deserves some attention. Just as the vegetation in the coastal Ecuadorian cloud forest is effectively “Chocó rainforest,” the dry forest near the shores of the Pacific ocean is considered “Tumbesian.” This latter term is derived from the so-called Tumbes ecoregion of northern Peru.

The global conservation community has designated a handful of regions throughout the world as “global biodiversity hotspots.” One of them is named the Tumbes-Chocó-Magdalena Biodiversity Hotspot. It describes the wildly dynamic ecoregion that stretches from the ultra-wet Chocó rainforest on the coast of Colombia to the mercilessly deforested Tumbesian dry forests on the northern coast of Peru.

Those two vastly different ecosystems meet and intermingle in coastal Ecuador. But it is precisely in the northwest corner of the province of Manabí where these two extremes come together in a way that doesn’t happen anywhere else in the ecoregion.

Conservation Priorities

Both in terms of total size and percentage of remaining forest, the Pacific Forest of Ecuador sits at the top of the list of the most endangered tropical forests in the world. Here’s how it compares to a few of its high-profile counterparts.

Although the Pacific Forest is threatened across the length of its entire range, it is at least afforded some degree of protection in the far north and far south. The central section is under the greatest threat.

Northern Section: On paper, the Mache-Chindul Ecological Reserve protects a large swath of coastal Chocó rainforest. It is managed by the national government and, in practice, has suffered from budgetary limitations since its creation in 1996. Much of the land within the legal confines of the reserve is now occupied by farmers and ranchers. In 2019, Mongabay reported that only 61% of the forest in Mache-Chindul Ecological Reserve is still intact. Satellite imagery from 2019 reveals that only 51,000 hectares of contiguous forest are left, the vast majority of which is degraded.

Southern Section: Machalillia National Park protects a large swath of Tumbesian dry forest in addition to semi-deciduous forest and moist forest. Although its officially designated as a national park, the national government only provides support for the protection of the marine area. Forest protection is entirely provided by the well-organized ancestral community of Agua Blanca, which effectively uses ecotourism as a tool for conservation. Satellite imagery from 2019 reveals roughly 77,000 hectares of contiguous forest, although the vast majority of it was previously degraded before the establishment of the national park.

Central Section: The least protected part of the Pacific Forest is the central section: namely, the Tumbes-Chocó transition in northwest Manabí. There is no official government protection of any forest in this region. TMA is protecting the two largest protected areas in this section: the Jama-Coaque Reserve, which currently protects 800 hectares (2,000 acres), and Bosque Protector Cerro Pata de Pájaro.

The Jama-Coaque Reserve (JCR) currently protects 1,192 hectares (2,945 acres). TMA is actively trying to expand JCR by purchasing and protecting an additional 1,000 hectares (roughly 2,450 acres) of forest that is contiguous with the currently protected area. All of this land is owned by absentee landowners who are eager to sell. TMA is actively fundraising to achieve this goal.

Bosque Protector Cerro Pata de Pájaro (PDP) officially spans 4,333 hectares (10,707 acres), which includes 1,000 acres of old growth cloud forest—arguably the most pristine remnant of Pacific Forest left in Ecuador. Yet the rest of its area has suffered substantial deforestation during the decades before and after it was declared a forest preserve. TMA assumed management of PDP in 2022, in partnership with former members of a defunct local conservation organization that first established the struggling reserve in 1995.

Connecting PDP with JCR is the core undertaking of TMA’s Capuchin Corridor project, spanning a 43-kilometer stretch of the coastal cordillera—covering 40,000 hectares (nearly 100,000 acres) of land.

Gliding leaf frog (Agalychnis spurrelli). Photo by Ryan Lynch.

Final Analysis

The Pacific Forest of Ecuador is a name that attempts to describe an ecosystem that defies classification. This kind of thing highlights one of the curious habits of our species. We are constantly trying to categorize our reality, to put everything in tidy little boxes—each one with a label.

But everything in nature exists on a gradient. That’s one of the many lessons that this ecosystem teaches us. The Pacific Forest is a melting pot of tropical ecosystems, a veritable showcase of eccentric forests that aren’t found anywhere else on earth.

This thinly-veiled love letter to this forest is overshadowed by the daunting reality of the present era. At the current rate of deforestation, these forests probably won’t even exist by the time the next generation comes of age. They will be gone from this earth.

It brings to mind an honest question that the children of this generation have already begun to ask their teachers. What does the sixth mass extinction look like?

It looks like this:

An ordinary afternoon in coastal Ecuador. This much forest is lost every 2 seconds across the planet. Every day of every year.

Is it too late?

No.

As I type these words, sitting on the open-air balcony of the Bamboo House in the middle of the Jama-Coaque Reserve, I am surrounded by wilderness as far as the eye can see. All I can hear is the sound of thousands of different life forms singing in the night air. This great forest has been reduced but it’s not gone. There is still time to protect what is still here and begin the task of restoring what has already been lost.

The same applies to the entire planet.

Taken from the balcony of the Bamboo House at dusk.

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