Conservation Biology

The house mouse (Mus musculus) is often thought of as a pest species in biological conservation, in agriculture, and in urban areas. As a result, populations are frequently targeted for control and eradication. However, M. musculus has notable within‐species biodiversity: it has genetically, morphologically, and behaviorally distinct subpopulations. Conserving biodiversity is usually considered the paramount goal of conservation biology, not least because biodiversity is claimed to have intrinsic value. But the biodiversity in mouse populations is often overlooked. In particular, conservationists do not call for the unique diversity represented by threatened mouse populations to be protected. This is illustrative of the inconsistent valuing of biodiversity in conservation. If biodiversity is intrinsically valuable, then it should be valued; however, it reveals itself. And yet, in examples presented here, unique populations of house mice with clear biodiversity value are threatened by eradication campaigns on islands and by changing agricultural practices on the Swiss–Italian border. The inconsistent valuing of biodiversity in the case of M. musculus raises important questions about whether the intrinsic value of biodiversity in conservation is, in practice, conditional on other implicit assumptions.

Widespread insect losses are a critical global problem. Mitigating this problem requires identifying the principal drivers across different taxa and determining which insects are covered by protected areas. However, doing so is hindered by missing information on most species owing to extremely high insect diversity and difficulties in morphological identification. To address this knowledge gap, we used one of the most comprehensive insect DNA metabarcoding data sets assembled (encompassing 31,846 flying insect species) in which data were collected from a network of 75 Malaise traps distributed across Germany. Collection sites encompass gradients of land cover, weather, and climate, along with differences in site protection status, which allowed us to gain broader insights into how insects respond to these factors. We examined changes in total insect biomass, species richness, temporal turnover, and shifts in the composition of taxa, key functional groups (pollinators, threatened species, and invasive species), and feeding traits. Lower insect biomass generally equated to lower richness of all insects and higher temporal turnover, suggesting that biomass loss translates to biodiversity loss and less stable communities. Spatial variability in insect biomass and composition was primarily driven by land cover, rather than weather or climate change. As vegetation and land‐cover heterogeneity increased, insect biomass increased by 50% in 2019 and 56% in 2020 and total species richness by 58% and 33%, respectively. Similarly, areas with low‐vegetation habitats exhibited the highest richness of key taxa, including pollinators and threatened species, and the widest variety of feeding traits. However, these habitats tended to be less protected despite their higher diversity. Our results highlight the value of heterogeneous low vegetation for promoting overall insect biomass and diversity and that better protection of insects requires improved protection and management of unforested areas, where many biodiversity hotspots and key taxa occur.

Human–wildlife conflict (HWC) is an escalating humanitarian issue and a conservation concern. In terms of protection and management, areas at high risk of HWC are not necessarily afforded the same resources as areas prioritized for protection. To improve allocation of limited protection resources and HWC mitigation efficiency, we determined management priorities based on HWC risk and people's attitudes toward wildlife around the Giant Panda National Park. We constructed an ensemble species distribution model with 1959 species’ distribution loci and 337 conflict event records. This model was used to simulate the spatial distribution patterns of HWC risk and to evaluate the influence of diverse environmental factors. A survey of people's attitudes toward wildlife was conducted in 155 villages around the Giant Panda National Park. Priority areas for HWC management were concentrated near protected areas, where wildlife habitats and populations were recovering and expanding. We obtained 947 questionnaires, which showed that some residents were highly aware of conservation and had a high tolerance for wildlife, even when they were living in areas at high risk of HWC. However, people who had encountered conflicts with wild boar were more likely to have negative attitudes toward other wildlife, even giant pandas (Ailuropoda melanoleuca). Thus, HWC may lead to the generalization of negative attitudes toward wildlife conservation. In our study area, environmental (e.g., building fences and changing crop types) and social measures (e.g., insurance and ecocompensation) have been implemented to mitigate HWC. Our results can provide an important basis for the allocation of compensation resources and improvement of HWC management in areas of high conservation priority. Future studies should further explore how to develop more personalized HWC management plans based on the characteristics of different regions.

Effective conservation of migratory species relies on habitat protection throughout their annual cycle. Although protected areas (PAs) play a central role in conservation, their effectiveness at conserving habitats across the annual cycle of migratory species has rarely been assessed. We developed seasonal ecological niche models for 418 migratory butterfly species across their global distribution to assess whether they were adequately represented in the PAs across their full annual cycle. PA coverage was inadequate in at least one season for 84% of migratory butterflies, adequate for only 17% of species in one season, and inadequate for 45% of species in all seasons. There was marked geographic variation in PA coverage: 77% of species met representation targets in Sri Lanka, for example, but only 32% met targets in Italy. Our results suggest that coordinated efforts across multiple countries will be needed to develop international networks of PAs that cover the full annual cycle of migratory insects and that conservation measures, in addition to the establishment and maintenance of PAs, are likely to be needed to effectively conserve these species.

Asiatic lions (Panthera leo leo) have increased in range and abundance in densely populated India, a rare example of coexistence between humans and large carnivores. We sought to determine the underlying mechanisms of this coexistence and to infer lessons that could help conserve carnivores in multiuse landscapes, globally. Using data collected from 2012 to 2017 from conflict‐compensation records, we studied the spatiotemporal trends in human−lion conflict across the lion's range in India. We also surveyed 1434 people from 277 villages across the gradient of conflict to better understand their tolerance of lions. The cumulative number of villages that registered attacks on livestock increased by 105 (9.61%) per year, suggestive of an expanding lion population. Livestock killed per village increased by 15% per year, indicative of increasing lion density. Attacks on humans averaged 20.8 (SE 2.3) per year and showed no trend. Attacks on humans were spatially correlated with livestock predation, and both were best explained by proximity to lion tourism areas, lion habitat, and areas with low lion density. Intolerance of lions was related to economic losses (49.8%) and fear of lions (43.9%). Communities that lived longer with lions had higher probability of tolerating lions and practiced livestock‐rearing techniques that minimized predation. Human−lion coexistence is common in India as indicated by 61% of respondents being tolerant of lions. This coexistence is related to a mix of sociocultural tolerance, enforced legal protection, government compensation, and mutual adaptation of humans and lions to each other. Lions receive food subsidies from people and space, and local communities have enhanced livelihoods through tourism and bolstered sociocultural norms. Institutionalizing lion‐based ecotourism on community lands could support coexistence in the long term. Only through such participatory and profitable land‐sharing approaches can we best sync the well‐being of local communities with sustainable carnivore conservation.

Youth are increasingly recognized for their important role in shaping environmental decisions surrounding conservation. Regrettably, youth who are crucial decision‐makers are often excluded from environmental governance spaces due to structural barriers, both economic and political. As highlighted by recent environmental justice literature, this marginalization hinders their active participation in the decision‐making process. The recent publication of the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) Youth Strategy 2022–2030 has brought prominent environmental organizations into the debate. The IUCN World Conservation Congress (WCC) presents a useful example from which to understand how youth access and participate in decision‐making at the highest level of governance in a prominent global conservation organization. We used event ethnography and participant observation methods to study the WCC Forum in Marseille, France (2021). We sought to examine the geopolitical intricacies of power and the underlying inequalities at the root of youth engagement, or lack thereof. We considered the IUCN's engagement with youth, outlining the process from previous resolutions and recommendations to the publication of the IUCN Youth Strategy in 2022. The results from the youth narratives we compiled showed that youth are not a monolith, that tokenism should be challenged, and that youth have agency but require support. We argue that when youth are mobilized in metalevel decision‐making spaces, their engagement is stratified and unequal. We situated youth engagement in decision‐making through the perspective of environmental organizations as a contribution to environmental governance and youth literature.

Free, prior, and informed consent (FPIC) is now a globally established norm and is a condition of equitable engagement with Indigenous peoples and local communities in biodiversity conservation. However, implementation is frequently questioned in terms of its efficacy in top‐down‐driven governance contexts. Local officials represent core voices often absent from mainstream discourse. Conservation practices are framed by local discourses, value frameworks, and relationships that offer critical opportunities to tailor localized consent processes. Relative to an FPIC process for a prospective World Heritage Site in Hin Nam No National Park, Laos, we examined the importance of mediation by local officials in a comanagement context. The mediation led to commitments to address long‐standing community grievances and reconcile conservation and development relationships in the area. Building the capacity of local officials as critical duty‐bearers helped shape rights‐based conservation and development outcomes. Enhancing nonconfrontational mechanisms for rights holders to air concerns and dialogue spaces for duty‐bearers to respond plays a key role in this respect.

Despite widespread plans to embed justice, equity, decolonization, indigenization, and inclusion (JEDII) into universities, progress toward deeper, systemic change is slow. Given that many community‐based conservation (CBC) scholars have experience creating enduring social change in diverse communities, they have transferable skills that could help embed JEDII in universities. We synthesized the literature from CBC and examined it through the lens of self‐determination theory to help identify generalizable approaches to create resilient sociocultural change toward JEDII in universities. Fostering autonomous motivation (i.e., behaving because one truly values and identifies with the behavior or finds behavior inherently satisfying) is critical to inspiring enduring change in both CBC and JEDII. Based on theory and our examination of CBC, we provide 5 broad recommendations that helped motivate behavioral change in a way that was self‐sustained (i.e., even without external rewards or pressure). Guiding principles support autonomy by creating meaningful choice and different entry points for JEDII; prioritising relationships; designing payment programs that enhance autonomous motivation; developing meaningful educational opportunities that are relevant, timely, relational, and authentic; and creating institutional change by focusing efforts on critical moments.

Conservation scientists work in diverse settings, sometimes requiring them to exist in spaces where they do not feel safe, included, or accepted. This is often the case for the LGBTQIA+ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, questioning, intersex, asexual, and others) community, which is frequently marginalized in conservation spaces. We conducted an anonymous, semistructured, online survey of members and nonmembers of the LGBTQIA+ community of conservation students and professionals in North America to explore participants’ lived experiences in conservation. Our 737 responses (response rate 26.8%) included 10% who identified as genderqueer, gender nonconforming, questioning, nonspecific, genderfluid, transgender woman, agender, transgender man, 2‐spirit Indigenous, or intersex (gender expansive), and 29% as bisexual, queer, lesbian, gay, asexual, pansexual, omnisexual, questioning, or nonheterosexual (queer+). We found that non‐LGBTQIA+ respondents overestimated the degree to which LGBTQIA+ respondents felt included in the field of conservation by 5% (sexual orientation) and 18% (gender identity). Respondents’ feelings of safety and belonging were up to 50% lower in most work settings compared with non‐LGBTQIA respondents; the lowest frequencies were reported by gender expansive respondents (40.9–64.4%). Contextual responses indicated that the lack of safety and belonging related to direct experiences of bullying (23 long‐form descriptions out of 73 gender expansive respondents and 15 of 217 queer+ respondents), concerns around safety in rural settings (4 of 73 gender expansive respondents and 20 of 217 queer+ respondents), and concerns around not being able to express their authentic selves (7 of 73 gender expansive respondents and 5 of 217 queer+ respondents). The intersection between gender identity and race also played a role in feelings of safety, belonging, and disclosure of sexual orientation (1 of 73 gender expansive respondents, 6 of 217 queer+ respondents). The most frequent support resources used by LGBTQIA+ conservation scientists included one‐on‐one support from peers, mentors and external collaborators, support group, and wellness and counseling services outside of work.

Engaging youth in early and sustained conservation education has important implications for promoting positive attitudes and behaviors in those who will become the future of conservation and management. Toward this goal, visual narratives (comic books, graphic novels) are an increasingly popular method used by conservation scientists to educate young people due to their approachable use of art and narrative storytelling. However, no studies have directly assessed how visual narratives compare with more traditional forms of conservation education for youth. We asked, how does education about biodiversity through visual narrative affect student perceptions and knowledge of science content relative to a traditional resource, and is there a novelty effect when using visual narrative versus traditional resources? To assess our questions, we utilized a semistructured approach to develop a biodiversity education program. Specifically, we developed an original graphic novel (visual narrative treatment) and a slideshow presentation (traditional treatment) with the same content to educate children about wetland biodiversity. We recruited, trained, and randomized 26 third‐grade teachers to deliver either the visual narrative or traditional resource in their classrooms. Students completed pretest, posttest, and follow‐up surveys assessing their perceptions of science and knowledge of the lesson content. Students in the visual narrative treatment held more positive perceptions of science (by 3.79%, p = 0.001), whereas students in the traditional treatment performed better on content quizzes (by 7.97%, p = 0.002). We found evidence for a novelty bias when using the visual narrative but not the traditional resource. These findings point to the importance of understanding the target audience and clearly defining educational goals. Overall, our results contribute to broader understanding of the relative benefits and limitations of conservation education through nontraditional means and of practices for successfully delivering effective, accessible, and rewarding conservation education to educators and youth.

Environmental managers struggle with communicating accurate and relevant information and with gaining trust from the communities they serve, problems that are especially pronounced in minority and colonized communities. An important step in developing successful management strategies is partnering directly with the communities involved, but community perceptions are rarely surveyed thoroughly when developing these strategies. We held discussions with 73 people across 22 small groups about their perceptions of environmental issues, with a focus on invasive species, on the island of Guåhan (Guam), a US island territory with a long and continued history of colonization by Western countries. We conducted these small group discussions with long‐time residents to learn about their environmental concerns and perceptions of invasive species and management efforts. Using grounded theory, we identified themes concerning apathy, proenvironmental behaviors, frustrations with efficacy, and disconnectedness from environmental decision‐making among residents of Guåhan. Residents expressed feeling disconnected from management decisions, which they critiqued as ineffective, but largely felt helpless to affect. Still, residents related to us their proenvironmental behaviors (e.g., picking up litter and controlling invasive species) and expressed a desire to learn more about management efforts. Our results highlight a clear need for improvement and expansion of engagement with Guåhan residents about environmental management, as well as opportunities to engage with a concerned and potentially proactive community.

Social and economic position and power shape everyone, including scientists and researchers. The way researchers do conservation science and the voices centered in the process are a result of researcher upbringing, experiences, access to resources, and values and are a manifestation of positionality. Positionality is a concept that can help one think about one's position and power in one's work. Creating a successful research partnership requires careful thinking about how equity, diversity, inclusivity, and accessibility are accounted for in the research environment. We drew on our own experiences as early career, mid‐career, and Indigenous researchers to explore researcher positionality and how understanding one's positionality can bring to the fore power dynamics in conservation science and research. We focused on the use of reflexive practice to recognize diverse roles and responsibilities, build strong project governance, and enrich relationships. We considered 2 large research partnerships, Apoqnmatulti'k (Mi'kmaw for we help each other) and the SakKijânginnaniattut Nunatsiavut Sivunitsangit (Inuttitut for Sustainable Nunatsiavut Futures) project, to examine moments of tension and interrogation of power and the ways in which this interrogation led to stronger relationships and better research. We advise that large transdisciplinary and cross‐cultural research teams use positionality and reflexivity to explicitly make choices about power dynamics in the context of executing partnership‐driven work. This can be accomplished through personal and collective interrogation of the power dynamics at play in project administration, research questions, and interpersonal relationships.

Conservation faces a chronic shortage of resources, including time, funding, mental capacity, and human capital. Efforts to make the expenditure of these resources more efficient should, therefore, support more equitable and effective conservation prioritization. To achieve this, it is necessary to ensure the integration of the knowledge and perceptions of local stakeholders into larger scale conservation decisions. We used fuzzy cognitive mental modeling to assess the perceptions of mangroves and the prioritization of ecosystem services across 3 groups of stakeholders: representatives from 3 coastal Fijian villages, the national office of an international nongovernmental organization (NGO), and the US office of that same NGO. We found different topologies and valuations among the resultant mental models, with the US NGO office having the most terms. However, when comparing models from local villages with the US NGO office, scale‐dependent perceptions shifted, including the relative devaluation of locally important cultural valuations of mangroves. Despite these variations in perceptions, however, 3 key components of the mental models—women's livelihoods, men's livelihoods, and fisheries supplementation—all appeared as consistently important in multiple models, suggesting areas around which potential collaboration among stakeholders could be forged. By focusing on system‐wide, rather than stakeholder‐specific, optimal solutions within the system, new opportunities for collaboration may emerge. In doing so, these system‐wide solutions may increase efficiency and collaboration. Moreover, we found that boundary‐spanning organizations, such as the national‐level conservation organizations, played a role in facilitating information transfer and mediating conservation goals in a culturally appropriate fashion. Finally, although the specific example used here is mangrove conservation, our methodologies and findings are broadly applicable across a variety of conservation scenarios.

Human–wildlife conflict (HWC) is a critical challenge to human development and well‐being and threatens biodiversity conservation. Ideally, HWC mitigation should benefit both wildlife and communities and limit the costs associated with living alongside wildlife. However, place‐ and context‐dependent realizations of conflict are often overlooked in HWC mitigation. Social and systemic dimensions of human–wildlife relationships often receive limited consideration in HWC as a concept and in mitigation strategies implemented globally. In recognizing our collective symmetries as a diverse group of researchers, we pose the idea of constellations of coexistence, based on Atallah et al.’s “constellation of co‐resistance.” Building on literature and our interdisciplinary and cross‐sectoral experiences of working with diverse species inhabiting different sociocultural, sociopolitical, and socioeconomic landscapes, we considered evidence of cultural nuances (e.g., sociocultural dimensions of human–elephant and human–lion interactions in East Africa and India) in HWC mitigation and argue that failing to incorporate them in mainstream practices poses a myriad of ethical and practical consequences. Locally situated but globally relevant, participation of local and Indigenous communities in HWC mitigation activities produces better conservation outcomes. Centering communities in the ideation, implementation, and evaluation of HWC mitigation promotes more equitable and sustainable management strategies for long‐term human–wildlife coexistence.

Globally, protected areas associated with sacred sites and cemeteries are an emerging area of research. However, they are biased toward terrestrial systems. In Fiji, funerary protected areas (FPAs) in freshwater and marine systems are culturally protected by Indigenous Fijians following the burial of a loved one on clan land. First documented in the 1800s, FPAs in Fiji have not been researched despite more than 30 years of conservation efforts and countrywide comanagement of natural resources. We sought to bridge this knowledge gap by elucidating 8 socioecological attributes of Indigenous FPAs through stratified, purposive, semistructured interviews of 201 key informants across Fiji's 189 districts. Seventy‐three districts actively implemented FPAs; another 34 were not being implemented because of low FPA awareness, FPA exclusion from comanagement plans, and conflicts in chief selection. Thirty‐three percent of districts established FPAs for chiefs only, and 20% established FPAs for any clan member, resulting in the establishment of numerous FPAs annually. From the 1960s to 2019, 188 FPAs were established. Forty‐four percent of FPAs were protected for 100 nights, and 47% protected all resources and associated ecosystems in the FPA. Only 25% of districts harvested edible fish and invertebrates; another 22% harvested edible fish only. For some chiefs’ funeral rites, only turtles were harvested, which are protected by law, thereby requiring government exemption for traditional use. The FPA harvest provisions varied from engaging whole communities to engaging specific clans, such as traditional fishers or those who performed the burial. Our results showed that practices associated with FPAs in Fiji are diverse, organically evolving, and more socially nuanced and complex than the fisheries and food provisioning focus they are known for. Erosion of Indigenous knowledge and practices associated with FPAs and FPA exclusion from conservation planning will negatively affect social and ecological resilience, resulting in vulnerable communities.

Effective conservation requires a variety of perspectives that center on different ways of knowing. Disciplinary diversity and inclusion (DDI) offers an important means of integrating different ways of knowing into pressing conservation challenges. However, DDI means more than multiple disciplinary approaches to conservation; cognitive diversity and epistemic justice are key. In 2020, the Disciplinary Inclusion Task Force was formed via a grassroots movement of the Society for Conservation Biology (SCB) to assess the extent of DDI and to chart a path to increase DDI. First, we assessed past and present SCB governance documents. Next, we surveyed current SCB members (n = 577). Finally, we surveyed nonmember conservationists (n = 213). Members who were not biological scientists perceived SCB as less diverse (21.4% vs. 16%) and not equitable (21.8% vs. 161%), and, although the majority (44) of nonmembers reported that their work aligned reasonably well with the mission of the SCB, they thought the organization focused on biological sciences. Despite SCB's mission to be diverse and inclusive, realizing this mission will likely require diverse epistemological perspectives and shifting from top‐down models of knowledge transfer. In centering on DDI, SCB can achieve its aspirations of connecting members across disciplines and ways of knowing to foster diverse perspectives and practices. We recommend that SCB and other organizations develop mechanisms to increase recruitment and retention of diverse members and leadership as well as expand strategic partnerships to flatten disciplinary hierarchies and promote inclusivity.

In New Zealand, awareness regarding protection, enhancement, and regeneration of landscapes and biodiversity is growing as the relationship between functioning and diverse ecosystems and society's health is acknowledged. This relationship is especially important for Indigenous people, who hold strong genealogical and familial ties with nature. Significant biodiversity loss from anthropogenic factors is exacerbated by climate change, ecosystem degradation, and invasive species. Invasive species and other biological threats, such as native pathogens, are concerning for Māori communities, who hold cultural responsibilities to care for nature. Despite acknowledgment of the value of Indigenous perspectives in environmental management in New Zealand and globally, Indigenous participation still largely occurs within Western non‐Indigenous paradigms. We highlight the value of Indigenous participation in biosecurity management and propose a shift from Western‐based paradigms to paradigms that reflect Indigenous worldviews and relationships with place. Recognizing and including the value of Indigenous participation elevates Indigenous voices to the level of decision‐making and leadership in the management of Indigenous lands. Given the genealogical relationships that Māori hold with the natural world and the intertwining of their health and well‐being with that of place (land) and nature, biosecurity threats to native species and ecosystems also pose serious risks to community well‐being. A holistic biosecurity approach is needed that encompasses cultural, social, economic, and environmental factors at multiple scales. We examined the New Zealand biosecurity context relative to biological threats to native plants and ecosystems and proposed a paradigm shift toward Indigenous place‐based biosecurity management. Biosecurity science and science‐based tools remain an important component, underscoring the complementary aspects of science and (Indigenous) culture.

In Assam state, northeastern India, human–elephant conflict mitigation has included technocentric measures, such as installation of barriers, alternative livelihoods, and afforestation. Such measures treat conflict as a technical problem with linear cause–effect relations and are usually ineffective over the long term because they do not consider how historical conditions have shaped present interactions between humans and elephants. Human–elephant encounters in South Asia, including in Assam, have arisen from colonial and postcolonial land‐use policies, ethnic relations, and capital extraction. To disentangle these relations, we conducted ethnographic fieldwork in Udalguri district of Assam among the Adivasi (Tea Tribe) to examine their interactions with wild elephants. Through socioecological ruptures, caused by displacement and deforestation, Adivasi (Tea Tribe) and elephant lives have intersected through space and time. Adivasi (Tea Tribe) life narratives and observations of daily encounters with elephants revealed that their interactions are multifaceted and motivated by multiple factors. Myths and oral testimonies revealed that the community has created conceptualizations of the elephant by closely observing their behavior, especially their movements, diets, vocalizations, and interactions with humans. These conceptualizations are filled with vignettes of shared marginalized lives, caused by the loss of homeland, food poverty, and uncertain ways of living. The empathy, expressed by the Adivasi (Tea Tribe), highlights ways of living with elephants that are affective and reach beyond technocentric interventions. For Adivasi (Tea Tribe) members, cohabitation could thus be achieved by living close to elephants as uneasy neighbors. Concepts of cohabitation, we suggest, could be harnessed to inform conservation policy and bring into focus the critically important—and yet often underutilized—values, encompassed by bottom‐up, place‐centric understandings of what elephants are and how coexistence may be possible in increasingly anthropogenic landscapes.

The importance of Indigenous (and local) knowledge and governance systems for addressing social and ecological crises is increasingly recognized. Unfortunately, attempts to incorporate Indigenous knowledge into Western approaches, often without the full leadership, consent, and participation of the peoples holding those knowledges, can cause harm and can constitute extractive activities. However, there remains considerable potential in collaborations bringing together multiple perspectives and knowledges. We introduce the M̓ṇúxvʔit model, which centers Indigenous governance systems as the natural starting point for respectful, cross‐knowledge system collaborations. M̓ṇúxvʔit means “to become one” in Haíɫzaqvḷa, the language of the Haíɫzaqv Nation from which this model originates, in this case referring to outside knowledges being incorporated into Indigenous systems (not vice versa). In collaborations following this model, Indigenous communities and governments lead the overall direction, Indigenous knowledge systems are foundational, local protocols are followed, benefits flow at least as much to communities as to collaborators, and collaborations are authentic and transparent. M̓ṇúxvʔit can occur at scales including a single person, such as Q̓íx̌itasu (Elroy White) complementing his Haíɫzaqv knowledge with Western archeology; a project, such as the Xvíɫm̓ístaƛ Hákq̓áṃ Qṇtxv Bákvḷásu (our foods will return) multispecies restoration program led by the Haíɫzaqv Nation and supported by invited collaborators; and a community, exemplified by the Heiltsuk (Haíɫzaqv) Integrated Resource Management Department leading resource stewardship collaborations across Haíɫzaqv Territory. Collaborations following the model uphold Indigenous and local sovereignty while avoiding superficial or tokenistic approaches. We share this model as a successful, locally born approach that we hope provides inspiration elsewhere and as a contribution to the conversation about how Western actors can work with local and Indigenous systems such that their collaborations constructively add to, not harmfully extract from, those systems.

Integrating diverse disciplines and knowledge practices into conservation offers new insights into the complex socioecological dynamics of conservation challenges and how to address them. Integration, however, is not simple; disciplines differ widely in their epistemic and professional commitments, theories, methods, applications, practices, and codes of ethics. Using an epistemic justice approach, we examined how and why different forms of disciplinary and social diversity are connected and offer a framework for promoting disciplinary diversity for conservation science and practice. This framework draws on a literature review and open‐ended responses from surveys of Society for Conservation Biology (SCB) members (n = 577) and nonmembers (n = 213) on experiences of professional and disciplinary exclusion and inclusion collected by SCB's Disciplinary Inclusion Task Force. We propose 4 steps conservation organizations and projects can take to promote disciplinary diversity and inclusion: know your history; understand power dynamics; listen to underrepresented voices; and operationalize disciplinary diversity and inclusion. As members of a highly interdisciplinary and diverse task force, we illustrated this framework through reflections on our shared experiences working together and the challenges and opportunities we faced.

Rachel Carson's warning of a silent spring directed attention to unwanted side effects of pesticide application. Though her work led to policies restricting insecticide use, various insecticides currently in use affect nontarget organisms and may contribute to population declines. The insecticide tebufenozide is used to control defoliating Lepidoptera in oak forests harboring rich insect faunas. Over 3 years, we tested the effect of its aerial application on bird populations with autonomous sound recorders in a large, replicated, full factorial field experiment during a spongy moth (Lymantria dispar) outbreak. The soundscape analysis combined automated aggregation of recordings into sound indices with species identification by experts. After pesticide application in the year of the outbreak, acoustic complexity in early summer was significantly reduced. The soundscape analysis showed that the reduction was not related to birds, but instead to the large reduction in caterpillar feeding and frass dropping. Effects on the vocal activity of birds were smaller than originally expected from a related study demonstrating tebufenozide's negative effect on bird breeding success. The legacy of the pesticide treatment, in terms of soundscape variation, was not present in the second year when the outbreak had ended. Our results showed a dimension of insecticide‐induced acoustic variation not immediately accessible to the human ear. It also illustrated how a multifaceted soundscape analysis can be used as a generic approach to quantify the impact of anthropogenic stressors in novel ways by providing an example of remote and continuous sound monitoring not possible in conventional field surveys.

Habitat loss can lead to biotic homogenization (decrease in β diversity) or differentiation (increase in β diversity) of biological communities. However, it is unclear which of these ecological processes predominates in human‐modified landscapes. We used data on vertebrates, invertebrates, and plants to quantify β diversity based on species occurrence and abundance among communities in 1367 landscapes with varying amounts of habitat (<30%, 30−60%, or >60% of forest cover) throughout the Brazilian Atlantic Forest. Decreases in habitat amount below 30% led to increased compositional similarity of vertebrate and invertebrate communities, which may indicate a process of biotic homogenization throughout the Brazilian Atlantic Forest. No pattern was detected in plant communities. We found that habitat loss was associated with a deterministic increase in faunal community similarity, which is consistent with a selected subset of species being capable of thriving in human‐modified landscapes. The lack of pattern found in plants was consistent with known variation between taxa in community responses to habitat amount. Brazilian legislation requiring the preservation of 20% of Atlantic Forest native vegetation may be insufficient to prevent the biotic homogenization of faunal communities. Our results highlight the importance of preserving large amounts of habitat, providing source areas for the recolonization of deforested landscapes, and avoiding large‐scale impacts of homogenization of the Brazilian Atlantic Forest.

In the face of unprecedented ecological changes, the conservation community needs strategies to recover species at risk of extinction. On the Island of Maui, we collaborated with species experts and managers to assist with climate‐resilient recovery planning for 36 at‐risk native plant species by identifying priority areas for the management of recovery populations. To do this, we developed a tailored spatial conservation prioritization (SCP) approach distinguished by its emphasis on transparency, flexibility, and expert (TFE) engagement. Our TFE SCP approach consisted of 2 iterative steps: first, the generation of multiple candidate conservation footprints (i.e., prioritization solutions) with a flexible greedy algorithm that reflects conservation practitioners’ priorities and, second, the selection of an optimal conservation footprint based on the consideration of trade‐offs in expert‐agreed criteria among footprints. This process maximized buy‐in by involving conservation practitioners and experts throughout, from setting goals to reviewing optimization data, defining optimization rules, and designating planning units meaningful to practitioners. We minimized the conservation footprint area necessary to meet recovery goals while incorporating species‐specific measures of habitat suitability and climate resilience and retaining species‐specific information for guiding recovery efforts. Our approach reduced the overall necessary conservation area by 36%, compared with selecting optimal recovery habitats for each species separately, and still identified high‐quality habitat for individual species. Compared with prioritizr (an existing SCP tool), our approach identified a conservation area of equal size but with higher quality habitat. By integrating the strengths of existing techniques in a flexible and transparent design, our approach can address natural resource management constraints and provide outputs suitable for local recovery planning, consequently enhancing engagement and buy‐in from conservation practitioners and experts. It demonstrates a step forward in making conservation planning more responsive to real‐world complexities and helps reduce barriers to implementation for local conservation practitioners.