Wildlife Conservation, Orangutans

Along this journey, I’ve often reflected on the conservation efforts in place to protect this fragile ecosystem and the wildlife that depend on it, and I’ve touched on them throughout. It’s not always easy to see how it all connects, but here in Kalimantan, there are dozens of initiatives, from large international programmes to smaller community-led work. They often overlap, all working towards the same goal: to repair, restore, rehabilitate, release, and steadily improve the health of the forests, rivers, and wildlife that call this place home.

One of the more visible examples is orangutan rehabilitation, where long-term programmes focus on preparing rescued individuals for life back in the wild. At dedicated centres, they are taught essential survival skills, such as foraging and nest-building, before being gradually released. In 2025, five orangutans completed their training, often referred to as “Forest School”, and were released into Bukit Baka Bukit Raya National Park, chosen for its rich biodiversity and abundant food supply. Even then, the work continues, with local communities and specialist teams monitoring them for the next 1–2 years to ensure they are adapting and settling back into the forest.

Further south in Central Kalimantan, within Sebangau National Park, conservation focuses on restoring peat swamp forests, one of the world’s most carbon-rich ecosystems. In the 1990s, thousands of kilometres of drainage canals were cut through these peatlands as part of the Mega Rice Project, an attempt to convert the forest into rice farmland to improve food security. The canals lowered water levels, leaving the peat dry and highly flammable. The project ultimately failed, as the soil proved too acidic and nutrient-poor for rice, and was later abandoned, but not before significant damage had been done.

Today, restoration efforts are reversing this by blocking the canals with small dams made from timber and earth, raising water levels and returning the peat to its natural wet state. This reduces fire risk, prevents carbon from being released, and allows native vegetation to recover.

In East Kalimantan, one example of this in action is the Indigenous Dayak Wehea community, who act as guardians of the 38,000-hectare Wehea Protected Forest. They protect it under their own traditional laws, with a group called the Petkuq Mehuey, or “forest guardians”, patrolling for several days at a time to prevent illegal logging, hunting, and fires. They combine traditional knowledge with tools like GPS and mobile devices to monitor the forest and record wildlife.

The effort has proved successful and now extends beyond a single forest, linking nearby areas into a larger zone. Communities are working with government and private companies to manage the land more sustainably, collaborating with timber and palm oil operators to reduce their impact while exploring new uses for forest plants. There are already signs of progress, with new species recorded and large areas of forest remaining intact under this shared approach.

Even with all of this in motion, it’s hard to ignore how heavy the reality still feels. The scale of industrial and political pressure often outweighs these efforts, and at times it feels like one step forward, two steps back. But conservationists on the ground see it differently. They aren’t looking for quick wins; they focus on what’s still standing, what’s still surviving, and the people who keep showing up to protect it. Communities are gaining greater control over their forests, satellite monitoring is exposing damage and holding companies to account, and wildlife is proving more adaptable than expected. What’s emerging isn’t perfect, but it is a more coordinated, tech-enabled, and community-led effort that is steadily strengthening, even under pressure.