Rescuing Ladybugs. Jennifer Skiff

      Okavango Delta, Botswana

      When I was offered a job at the Discovery Channel, it was a fledgling cable network. I loved the content and jumped at the chance. Eventually, we launched Animal Planet, and I became the head of development and an executive producer on a series called The Crocodile Hunter. This position was the start of my journey with — and dedication to — wildlife.

      Unlike many others, I didn’t have any one epiphany with animals that changed my life. I guess you could say that a feeling of intense obligation and responsibility snuck up on me. As I’ve learned more about the environment, the oceans, and wildlife conservation and have had a chance to travel, I feel a growing need to protect the planet for future generations by sharing the story of what’s happening to it. But in 2013, I did experience a profound connection with an elephant that has continued to inspire me.

      To create change in the world, you sometimes need proof that there is need for change. This was the case in Africa, where researchers have estimated that elephant populations are declining at a rate of twenty-five to thirty thousand annually. The Great Elephant Census [GEC] was a global collaborative effort — initiated and funded by Paul Allen — to count the largest living terrestrial animal on the planet, the African savanna elephant. It was the first-ever pan-African census of savanna elephants and was a massive undertaking, spanning eighteen countries. It took more than ninety scientists, six NGOs, and dozens of conservationists on the ground nearly three years to complete.

      In 2013, while the philanthropic division of Vulcan was launching the GEC, I learned there was a pregnant elephant at a place called Abu Camp, located in the Okavango Delta in Botswana, Africa. The camp is part research/conservation station, part rehabilitation center for orphaned elephants, and it’s an amazing safari lodge. The herd is free-roaming for most of the day. When they’re in camp, visitors pay for the privilege of spending time in close proximity to them, which in turn pays for the elephants’ care. I had just started working at Vulcan and knew how rare it was to capture natural history footage of an elephant being born in the wild, so when I learned an elephant named Kitimetse was about to give birth, I sent a crew to capture this important moment.

      I coordinated the crew from my office in Seattle, and on a starry, moonless night in November, our amazing partners and crew filmed Kiti giving birth at Abu Camp. Kiti’s labor was long, so the team had plenty of time to debate the calf’s name. Eventually, they chose Naledi, the word for star in Setswana, a local native language.

      We filmed with the latest infrared cameras, and even though the human eye couldn’t see a thing, the cameras helped us witness something extraordinary. Kiti delivered Naledi in the middle of the night. While trumpeting and performing what appeared to be elephant celebrations, Kiti kicked dirt all over the newborn. At first it wasn’t clear why she was doing it. Then it became obvious. She was trying to cover up the smell of a new baby so other animals wouldn’t know and come near.

      When I first saw the footage, it was overwhelming. It’s one thing to hear that an elephant is giving birth. It’s another thing to see the actual footage and watch how the herd treats her. They were all present for the birth. Even wild elephants who were familiar with the Abu herd, but didn’t live with them, came to be part of the event.

      We didn’t plan to make a documentary about Naledi, but six weeks after giving birth, Kiti died unexpectedly, orphaning Naledi. Cathy, the matriarch of the herd, miraculously started lactating even though she had never given birth to her own calf. But she didn’t have enough milk and didn’t know how to take care of the baby. Naledi couldn’t get enough milk and her health began failing. Luckily, Dr. Mike Chase, the biologist and zoologist assigned to oversee the Abu herd and who was present at Naledi’s birth, was still on hand as part of the elephant census work. He intervened and established a plan to save her life. Wellie Jana, a manager at the camp, was assigned the full-time, round-the-clock job of bonding with Naledi, to entice her to drink milk from a bottle. It took weeks, but eventually Naledi came around.

      Naledi’s story kept delivering so many twists and turns that we decided to keep shooting as her life unfolded and progressed and she was eventually reintroduced to the herd. As filmmakers, we were presented with a beautiful intertwining of two stories: a young scientist tackling a massive undertaking of a pan-African survey with partners across the continent, and this single baby elephant struggling to survive. The result was a documentary called Naledi: A Baby Elephant’s Tale. When you watch it, it’s hard not to be in awe of the handlers who dedicate their lives to this herd and to Abu Camp for its work bringing awareness to elephant issues.

      It was a busy time. While working on Naledi’s story, we were collaborating with two other teams to produce the documentaries Mind of a Giant and The Ivory Game. While filming the latter, Richard Ladkani and Kief Davidson placed themselves squarely in the middle of the ivory trade to tell the stories of the activists who are in the field trying to stop poaching and the trade from Africa to China.

      When I look back, 2016 was the year of the elephant. We produced three documentaries on elephants in one year with the goal of striking at both the supply of and the demand for ivory products.

      Working on these films at the same time gave me three concentric perspectives of elephants. Naledi’s story is emblematic of the struggle of the African elephant and is a story of hope and inspiration. Mind of a Giant reveals the intelligence of these incredible creatures and their complex consciousness. And The Ivory Game follows the ivory trafficking route from Africa to China. Naledi showed the devotion of many to save one elephant, while The Ivory Game outlines the destruction caused by the people who poach one elephant every fifteen minutes, just for its tusk.

      Meanwhile, the Great Elephant Census wrapped up. After nearly three years of work, Vulcan released the results in September 2016. The data showed that savanna elephant populations declined by 30 percent between 2007 and 2014. This makes it clear that the current rate of decline, at 8 percent annually, puts this iconic species on an unsustainable trajectory.

      As a team, we learned that by combining storytelling with philanthropic investment, technology-driven innovation, and policy, we can transform audiences from viewers into engaged activists who want to address the critical issues of our time. I’ve learned there are lots of solutions, many of which provide a positive economic impact. The solutions include shifts in personal behavior, responsible consumer choices, and influencing governments to act.

      At my job, we have a hashtag we like to use: #onlyatVulcan. What we accomplish truly could only happen at a place like Vulcan. When you think about what Vulcan sets out to do, the scale and the scope of it, it’s mind-boggling. I certainly didn’t know it when I accepted the position, but it’s clear to me that this is exactly where I am supposed to be. It’s a privilege to work under the leadership of Paul Allen and with a team of incredible leaders who don’t know the word impossible. They are all there because we are tackling issues that many others consider impossible, and they are in a constant state of learning and curiosity. I can’t imagine doing any job other than producing stories that move people.