Over 25 years, the increase in petrel nests in Galápagos reflects sustained work in environmental restoration and invasive species control. More than 3,000 nests are thriving thanks to joint efforts by Galápagos National Park, Fundación Jocotoco, and Galápagos Conservancy. It is a conservation success story.
Journalist Gabriela Castillo Albuja tells this story in this article, created with a Reporting Grant on Nature-Based Responses to Biodiversity Loss in Latin America from the Latin America Solutions Journalism Fund, an initiative of El Colectivo 506. The fund’s support for this story was made possible by a donation from the Earth Journalism Network and its Biodiversity Media Initiative. The article was published by Periodismo Público on Nov. 17, 2025. It was adapted and translated here by El Colectivo 506 for co-publication. ChatGPT was used to create the first draft of the translation.
At five in the morning, the sky over Santa Cruz in the Galápagos archipelago is still veiled by a humid mist. To make sure the sun won’t catch him off guard, Fidelino Gaona gets ready for the day: he adjusts his low-power headlamp and checks the backpack where he keeps a notebook, a flexible five-foot wand, and a GPS with the georeferenced points of the nests he has been monitoring for almost three decades.
He has been a park ranger with Galápagos National Park for 26 years, and he still feels that every day confronts him with the same mix of wonder and responsibility.
“It’s a passion,” he says. “There isn’t a day when I’m not moved by seeing a chick leave the nest. I know the work was worth it.”
With steady steps, he and his colleagues begin climbing toward the island’s humid zone. They walk for an hour among volcanic rocks, roots covered in moss, and an air thick with salt and fog. With every step, the temperature drops a few degrees.
It is the dry season, but the dew keeps the ground soft and scented with miconias and ferns. Fidelino looks up: the first glow of sunlight barely touches the treetops. In his notebook, he writes down the start of the workday. From April through December, his work calendar aligns with that of the petrels.
But this ancient dance between sea and volcano nearly broke. The spread of invasive plants and the arrival of predator species pushed the birds to the brink of collapse, a challenge that required a decades-long strategy to reverse.
The flight of a species that connects sea and land
The Galápagos petrel (Pterodroma phaeopygia) is one of the archipelago’s most unique birds. Its swift, seemingly effortless flight allows it to cross long distances over the ocean, but its heart belongs to the islands’ humid highlands.
There, in the cracks and tunnels formed by ancient lava, it digs its nests every season. The petrel is approximately 13 inches long, with dark gray plumage, a white chest, and large eyes that seem to reflect the ocean’s glow. At night, when it returns from fishing, its raspy call blends with the sound of the wind.
“They are birds that connect two worlds,” explains Jorge Carrión Tacuri, conservation director at Galápagos Conservancy. “They fly and feed entirely at sea, but they nest on land. By doing so, they bring nutrients from the ocean to the volcanic soils of Galápagos. It’s an ecological link between marine and terrestrial life.”
That natural exchange, almost invisible, is vital for maintaining the fertility of highland ecosystems. Petrel droppings are rich in phosphorus and nitrogen, and with rainfall they run down the slopes toward agricultural areas, where they replenish the soil.
In Jorge’s words, “petrels are the islands’ natural gardeners.” But their existence has been at risk. For years, the spread of invasive species—such as Asian blackberry, guava, or cascarilla—blocked access to the nests.
Roots and thorns trapped the birds, many of which died while trying to get out. Added to that was the presence of rats, cats, and feral dogs that preyed on eggs and chicks. In 1997, monitoring registered fewer than 10 active nests in some areas of Santa Cruz.
“The outlook was alarming,” recalls Fidelino. “We thought the petrels could disappear.”
An alliance to restore the skies
Facing this threat, which intensified in the late 1990s, Galápagos National Park, alongside organizations such as Galápagos Conservancy and Fundación Jocotoco, launched a comprehensive recovery strategy.
The goal: to restore nesting habitats, eliminate invasive species, and ensure the return of the petrels to their original colonies. Jorge Carrión describes the project as part of the Galápagos Initiative, a program that brings together actions focused on key ecosystem species such as giant tortoises, land iguanas, and albatrosses.
“In the case of the petrel,” he explains, “we focused on three islands: Santa Cruz, Isabela, and Santiago. On each one, we work with local crews of approximately 12 people who permanently control invasive plants and monitor nests.”
Current numbers reflect remarkable progress. In Santa Cruz alone, park rangers and technicians monitor about 759 burrows, and it is estimated that more than 3,000 nests are active.
In 2024, according to Galápagos National Park, 480 chicks managed to fledge.
“When we began this monitoring, there were barely eight nests,” says Fidelino. “Today we have thousands. It’s the result of years of quiet work, early mornings, and long hikes.”
The climb to the nests requires physical and mental strength. Fidelino reaches the area after an hour of hiking. There, together with his team, he inspects each burrow with a low-intensity flashlight “so we don’t hurt the birds’ eyes.” If the tunnel is deep, he uses a thin wand—which they call “the magic wand”—to gently touch the inside.
“When I pull it out and see soft feathers, I know there’s a chick,” he says with a smile. The park rangers spend five days each month on monitoring shifts. Each two-person team checks the nests throughout the day, recording whether there are eggs, chicks, or adult pairs. Everything is written down and georeferenced with GPS.
Flashlights, soaked boots, and the silence of the forest are their main tools. Sometimes the nests are hidden under roots or in crevices almost 10 feet deep.
“It’s not easy,” says Fidelino. “There are days when it rains nonstop, or the fog doesn’t let you see three feet ahead. But when you find a chick that grew from egg to flight, you feel the effort is worth it.”
One of his clearest memories is from 2015, when he and park ranger Klever Aguilar found a petrel that had been banded 28 years earlier.
“It was like seeing time turned into flight,” he says. “Knowing that bird was still alive confirmed that our work had meaning.”
Evidence of a recovery
The results of this work are demonstrated by data. In Santa Cruz, monitoring has shown that habitat restoration and invasive species control raise the reproductive success rate to more than 60%.
In Santiago, where access is more limited, teams travel every three months and record a 70% fledging rate. In Isabela, although the control of exotic plants has only recently resumed, 20 new nests have already been identified.
The organizations complement the work of the National Park with research and education. Paola Sangolquí, marine conservation coordinator at Fundación Jocotoco, explains that since 2019 her organization has expanded its efforts to Galápagos to strengthen protection for these birds.
“The petrel spends most of its life at sea, but it needs the highlands to nest. And many people, including residents, have never seen it. That’s why we also work in environmental education, so the community gets to know it and value it,” she explains.
In San Cristóbal, for example, Fundación Jocotoco carries out an educational program with seventh-grade students in local schools such as Alejandro Alvear, Pedro Pablo Andrade, Carlos Darwin, and the Galápagos Naval Lyceum, among others.
“We show them videos, photographs, and then we take them to visit the petrel reserve. It’s a symbolic closing activity: many children see a chick for the first time and learn why caring for it matters,” the specialist says.
Pre- and post-surveys show a notable change. Before the workshop, only 20% of students said they knew about the species; afterward, 90% could identify it and mention at least one threat it faces.
Science, technology, and tradition
The conservation of the petrels combines modern techniques with empirical knowledge. At the National Park, drones and radiotelemetry—a technique used to measure and transmit data remotely through radio waves—are used to identify critical areas and track the movements of adult birds.
Each banded individual carries a small transmitter that records flight routes, feeding zones, and return times.
“With this information we know where they go when they leave to fish,” Jorge explains. “It helps us understand their relationship with the ocean and anticipate how phenomena like El Niño may affect their patterns.”
At the same time, controlling invasive species continues to be done manually: entire crews pull out blackberry, guava, and cascarilla with simple tools, freeing hectares of land for nesting.
“We are restoring about 300 hectares just in Santa Cruz,” Jorge says. “If we are able to fully monitor them, we could reach a thousand nests.”
This work—particularly the control of rodents and insects such as the fire ant—has also generated an additional health benefit for nearby farms, reducing pests that once affected residents of the Santa Cruz highlands.
For its part, Fundación Jocotoco installs fencing in areas such as El Junco in San Cristóbal to prevent cattle, pigs, and donkeys from entering nesting zones.
“Trampling destroys the nests,” Paola Sangolquí explains. “That’s why we install fences and work with farmers so they understand that their management also influences conservation.”
Communities that care
In recent years, collaboration with landowners whose farms border the National Park has been crucial. Fidelino sums it up simply: “Some farmers call us when they see a nest on their property. They notify us, help with pest control, clear the weeds. They already understand that the petrel is also part of their land.”
In Santa Cruz, the relationship with the community has been smooth; in Isabela and San Cristóbal, ties are still being strengthened. For Paola Sangolquí, the key is involving citizens in the solution: “It’s not about institutions acting alone. We are all part of the ecosystem. Having responsible pets, reducing the use of lights at night, or supporting education programs are simple but powerful actions.”
From Galápagos Conservancy, Jorge Carrión agrees: “Petrels fly at night, and strong lights disorient them. If people turn off unnecessary lights, they reduce a direct threat. These daily changes make a difference.”
At the Petrel Reserve in San Cristóbal, groups of tourists arrive to participate in educational visits and, thanks to the species’ recovery, have helped revitalize nature tourism in the area.
One of them, María del Carmen Ávila, remembers her experience as “a life lesson”: “I didn’t know this bird existed. When I saw the nest and heard the park ranger explain the petrel’s life cycle, I understood that protecting it is also protecting our own natural history.”
Another visitor, Jorge Villacís from Quito, wrote in the park registry: “I never imagined that such a small species could have such an impact on ecological balance. Now I understand why Galápagos is called a laboratory of life.” These testimonies are part of the educational impact that the organizations and the National Park aim to generate: turning observation into awareness.
Although progress is significant, threats persist. Invasive species continue to spread, climate change alters rainfall and temperature patterns, and human resources are limited.
“In Isabela, we have few park rangers,” admits Fidelino. “It’s a huge island and we can’t always reach all the nests.” In addition, the total eradication of introduced species such as rats is a monumental task.
“They’re intelligent and reproduce quickly,” adds Paola. “In Floreana, we attempted comprehensive control across the island’s 17,000 hectares, but it requires time and consistency.”
Another challenge is maintaining funding. “Conserving a species is not a one-year project,” she adds. “It’s an ongoing task. We need sustained public policies and international cooperation.”
Those involved also point out that the lack of stricter laws and effective sanctions at the regional level remains a limitation for discouraging illegal introductions or poor management of invasive species.
Lessons and hope
The case of the Galápagos petrel shows that biodiversity can recover when science, communities, and institutions work together.
“There are no miracles,” says Jorge Carrión. “There are processes. What we see today is the result of 25 years of consistency.”
At Fundación Jocotoco, Paola highlights a key lesson: “Conservation cannot be separated from education. If children understand the value of the petrel, they themselves become defenders of nature.”
The Ministry of Environment, Water and Ecological Transition, through the Directorate of Galápagos National Park, recognizes that the project has produced a replicable model. “The coordinated work with the organizations shows that participatory conservation works. This model will be applied with other endemic species at risk,” reads an institutional statement.
In previous remarks, Minister of Environment and Energy Inés María Manzano emphasized the importance of conservation projects in Galápagos, highlighting that these actions are priorities within national biodiversity policies.
Inés María said this approach reflects the government’s commitment to caring for sensitive ecosystems such as Galápagos, given that protecting these areas is key to preserving the country’s biodiversity. “The New Ecuador prioritizes the care of sensitive ecosystems such as Galápagos,” she noted, reaffirming the importance of science and adaptive management in guiding these conservation initiatives.
However, so far the ministry has not provided specific details or dates on how this model will be replicated with other species, keeping the information at a general level.
The day ends, but species control continues
When the sun begins to set, Fidelino puts away his headlamp, his wand, and the notebook with the day’s records. There is plenty of data he still needs to enter. It’s almost six in the evening.
The air is colder now, and the petrels begin to circle the sky as they return from the sea. Their dark silhouettes stand out against the orange sunset.
“Every time the workday ends, I stay quiet for a moment,” he confides. “I listen to the sound of the wind and think that these species teach us to endure. Sometimes I think the petrels fly not only for themselves, but also for us.”
The park ranger walks back to the vehicle with the satisfaction of someone who has fulfilled his mission.
When he reaches the camp, he writes down the final data point of the day: 385 active nests in 2025. The season still isn’t over, but the results already speak of hope.
“They call us the heroes of the islands,” he says, laughing as he takes off his mud-covered boots. “But I think the real heroes are the petrels. We just make sure they keep flying.”
In the sky, a group of them glides over the mountains of Santa Cruz. Their wings slice the air like thin blades, a symbol of life that refuses to disappear. And in that silent dance, Galápagos remembers that biodiversity can be reborn when there are hands willing to protect it.
