Galapagos Sea Lion (Zalophus californianus wollebaecki), Isla Santa Fe, Galapagos Islands, Ecuador

No one knows how many species there are on planet Earth. Nearly two million have been identified and named, but biologists put the actual total at between three and thirty million (some go as high as eighty million in the belief that the tropical rainforests have yet to reveal their full complexity). Such a significant difference between the known and the potentially unknown presents us with a paradox: we have countless new species to discover and learn from in the coming years, but we are also losing species through our direct actions (or our indirect negligence) at such an alarming rate that species are vanishing before human eyes have had a chance to register their existence, much less give them a name.

There is a well-known adage that asks: "If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one there to hear it, does it still make a sound?" Perhaps in light of our current predicament, we can also ask: "If an unknown species vanishes before it has been discovered, have we lost anything?"

Our planet’s biodiversity is the result of more than four billion years of evolution. Species have evolved to exploit a range of habitats from thermal pools to the surfaces of glaciers, from ocean depths to mountain tops, and from humid tropics to dry deserts. However, during the course of evolution more than 99.99 percent of all the species that ever existed have become extinct.

African Elephant (Loxodonta africana), Amboseli National Park, Kenya

Scientists recognize five great extinctions: the Ordovician, 440 million years ago (MYA); the Devonian, 370 MYA; the Permian, 250 MYA; the Triassic, 210 MYA; and the Cretaceous, 65 MYA. Each of these events was precipitated by a natural event such as a gradually changing climate, volcanic or tectonic activity, or a major meteor strike. But, we are now in the midst of a sixth great extinction, and we are the cause. We threaten other species by destroying their habitat, by introducing exotic species, and by overhunting. Unless human expansion is curtailed, we risk losing half of all species (mainly from the tropical rainforests) in the next one hundred years. Why is this great extinction so different from earlier ones? For one thing it is occurring at an unprecedented rate (even the dinosaurs disappeared over millennia, and their descendants are the birds we cherish today). The sixth great extinction is also an arbitrary one. It has nothing to do with natural selection or the "survival of the fittest." Animals are not being out competed by a better-adapted species; they are being eliminated as their habitats are razed. If current trends continue, we will be left with homogeneous environments where the only wildlife is in the form of the opportunistic generalist who can make a home alongside us (like the brown rat, house mouse, and urban coyote or red fox).

We may not know how many species there are in the world, but we understand enough to fear what will happen if insects continue their decline, if birds vanish from our forests and grasslands, or if elephants and primates vanish from the tropics. A forest without animal life is doomed to die, just as an animal without habitat cannot hope to survive. We too are animals, and as such we require a healthy and functioning habitat. Without insects, many of our crops would not be pollinated; without birds and mammals, many plants would fail to distribute their seeds; and without the full diversity of life, we would lack the vast majority of medicines and foods upon which we have come to depend. The argument for conservation can be one that recognizes the intrinsic value of all life on earth, or it can be one that builds on a utilitarian need. Whichever argument is used, the argument must still be made. And, lest we fear that the task ahead is too vast, more than a third of the Earth’s species are now known to inhabit just 1.4 percent of its land surface, some 2.1 million square kilometers, mainly in the tropical rainforests. The conservation of our planet’s biodiversity is not only necessary, it is also achievable.

Sea Otter (Enhydra lutris), Monterey Bay, California, USA

The species included in this book are those that draw people to zoological collections, that make people plan a trip-of-a-lifetime to Africa, or Alaska, or Antarctica. They are the species that people dream of seeing when they visit a national park or refuge. If you travel to any of these destinations, you hear about the "Big Five" or "Big Three" as people list the animals that they most want to see. Those names may differ with the location, but they have underlying similarities: They are the wolf, bear, bison, lion, cheetah, elephant, and rhino. Each of these species is charismatic in its own way. They are also increasingly marginalized, pushed out of their former range as people move in. These are species who do not adapt well to competition with people, and many people do not wish to share their backyards with animals that can (however rarely) be a threat. The result is smaller and smaller populations of large mammals (particularly predators), fragmented habitats that are incapable of supporting their former diversity, and the steady loss of genetic diversity that comes from lack of exchange between populations and increased inbreeding.

Green Sea Turtle (Chelonia mydas), Palau Sipidan, Malaysia

The essays contained within, surrounded by Art Wolfe’s dramatic photographs, will allow you to catch a glimpse of past successes and failures and a future that is still filled with possibilities. The writers drawn together for this book come from a variety of backgrounds. Jane Goodall and George Schaller are both veterans of prolonged fieldwork in remote corners of the world, and they have a unique perspective on the rigors of conservation. Richard Dawkins is the evolutionary biologist who gave us The Selfish Gene and who is always ready to challenge those who would relegate evolution to being simply another theory. William Conway, as former General Director of the Wildlife Conservation Society, has overseen literally hundreds of research and education programs, and John C. Sawhill, President of the Nature Conservancy, heads up an organization that runs the world’s largest system of privately owned wildlife refuges.

The Living Wild, in both words and pictures, is more than a call for action. It is a stunning illustration of just what is at stake.

Michelle A. Gilders, Canmore, Canada
© Michelle A. Gilders