I interviewed journalist Kayleigh Long on the Mongabay Newscast about a story she did on a three-legged leopard making its way 150 miles through war-torn regions of the Caucasus, where landmines still exist in unknown numbers. This region is sandwiched between the Black and Caspian seas and includes southern Russia, Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan.
The endangered Persian leopard is just one of only three leopards spotted in Georgia in the past 20 years. Fewer than 1,100 remain.
I selected this story for the Newscast because I think it tells an unlikely story from a rarely highlighted part of the world that has experienced much conflict, where both animals and people persist in a way I find daring and inspiring.
“Perhaps it's naive of me, but I think it's in times like this I sort of think hope is a moral imperative,” Long told me.
I agree. Hope is a moral imperative. And the fact that this leopard, whose name is Aren, trekked 150 miles after losing a limb—presumably, we don’t know precisely when the injury occurred—makes me feel obligated not just to carry on, but to push forward harder every single day.
Bejan Lortkipaneedze of the NGO NACRES leads a skeleton crew of 3 that monitors wildlife in Algeti National Park in Georgia and other areas. After USAID cuts from the Trump administration, his resolve is inspiring.
I think a story like this reminds us what hope actually is. Hope isn't naive optimism. It is the capacity to see possibility, and work to make it a reality. Even when situations appear dire to others. There is a quiet discipline that hope requires.
Imagine someone who starts out to become extremely skilled at something, whether it’s writing, sports, or another art form. They don’t start already primed and masterful at that discipline. They imagine it first. They see the possibility of becoming. They also don't absorb criticism or discouragement from others (even from the people closest to them). They keep going.
When I look at the work of NGOs in the Caucasus region, I think about how incredibly disciplined they must be to persist with essentially no help, in a region with existing landmines and barbed wire fences on borders, driving through unforgiving, cold, and mountainous terrain on the off-chance they might see a leopard or another species they have been monitoring.
Long asked Bejan what he’d do with unlimited resources, and he said he’d start an education program to help locals reduce conflict with wild animals.
This story ignites something inside of me that is similar to what Long says:
“ I've done a lot of thinking about what sort of journalism I want to do and what kind of stories I want to cover and why. And I think the stories that I'm trying to seek out reflect the possibility of a better, a kinder, and more just world,” she told me.
And I agree with her. These are the stories I seek out. Stories that connect the dots and reflect the possibility of a fairer, kinder world are worth telling. Not because it’s nice to hear, but because that world is quite literally possible.
Mike
Image caption: A boat ride in Jodogahama bay, and white rhyolite spires. Miyako, Japan. Photo by Myself.