According to a new study, great whites and whale sharks are among the species at risk of dying out over the next century.

Pimiento is the lead author of a research published in Science Advances. The research looks at how the extinction of large marine (海洋的) species would influence the ecological roles of ocean ecosystems. “The worrying extinction challenges scientists to better measure the variety of biology: how will the total variety of life on Earth be affected as human activities lead to the losses of more and more creatures?” they said. In the oceans, the biggest animals are thought to play important ecological roles, and are also facing high levels of threat from human activities such as fisheries and climate change.

The team was looking to move beyond traditional species extinctions, to find out more about the functional diversity, the range of roles that these species perform, and how biodiversity (生物多样性) might respond under different extinction scenarios (预测). They ran two different extinction scenarios. In one, researchers looked at extinction probability based on their current IUCN (International Union for Conservation of Nature) status. In the second, they assumed all species listed as threatened, around 40 percent, had gone extinct.

Sharks were found to be one of the worst affected groups. “We already knew that sharks are one of the most threatened groups in the ocean,” they said. “They are also very easily hurt due to their large size and low reproductive rate. Our results show that the most functionally unique and special shark species would be more likely to die out in the future, contributing to greater ecological losses.” They also found the biggest threats to marine megafauna (大型哺乳动物群) are fishing, either through getting caught up by accident or directly targeted, and climate change. Reducing these threats could be the best way to protect these species.

The good news is that the study identifies key species that can be targeted and protected. Sometimes ocean preservation can be a triage game. The science helps us know which species really need our help and which species we really cannot afford to lose.

As a nature photographer, I have to face the wind and the rain, but I still enjoy working outside in the wild. One of the best things about this job is that you can observe animals in their natural environment.

My favorite place to take photos is Yellowstone National Park. Yellowstone is famous for the variety of its wildlife, but it is probably best known for its bears. These huge, strong animals can live for 30 years. Despite a weight of up to 300 kilograms, they can run at a speed of around 64 kilometers per hour and are also excellent swimmers.

Last spring in Yellowstone, I followed a path that took me through a dark forest. When I finally stepped out of the trees, the view was breathtaking. An eagle flew over the snow-capped mountains, which were reflected in the still lake below. While I was concentrating on photographing this amazing scene, I suddenly had a feeling that I was being watched. Slowly, and with the camera still held to my eye, I turned... and froze. Only meters away from me was a bear. With water falling off its thick, brown hair, the bear stared back at me. Time stood still as the bear and I both waited to see who would move first. My legs started shaking. Somehow, I forced my finger to press the button. A second later, the bear turned and ran back into the forest. When I recovered from the shock, I looked at my camera. My most frightening but magical experience was now captured forever in a single image.

From time to time I look at the photo as a reminder to show respect to all animals. It is after all we who are the visitors to their world.

For six hours we shot through the landscape of the Karoo desert in South Africa. Just rocks and sand and baking sun. Knowing our journey was ending, Daniel and I just wanted to remember all we had seen and done. He used a camera. I used words. I had already finished three notebooks and was into the fourth, a beautiful leather notebook I’d bought in a market in Mozambique.

Southern Africa was full of stories. And visions. We were almost drunk on sensations. The roaring of the water at Victoria Falls, the impossible silence of the Okavango Delta in Botswana. And then the other things: dogs in the streets, whole families in Soweto living in one room, a kilometre from clean water.

As we drove towards the setting sun, a quietness fell over us. The road was empty—we hadn’t seen another car for hours. And as I drove, something caught my eye, something moving next to me. I glanced in the mirror of the car; I glanced sideways to the right, and that was when I saw them. Next to us, by the side of the road, thirty, forty wild horses were racing the car, a cloud of dust rising behind them—brown, muscular horses almost close enough to touch them, to smell their hot breath. I didn’t know how long they had been there next to us.     

I shouted to Dan: “Look!”, but he was in a deep sleep, his camera lying useless by his feet. They raced the car for a few seconds, then disappeared far behind us, a memory of heroic forms in the red landscape. When Daniel woke up an hour later I told him what had happened.

“Wild horses?” he said. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I tried. But they were gone after a few seconds.”

“Are you sure you didn’t dream it?”

“You were the one who was sleeping!”

“Typical,” he said. “The best photos are the ones we never take.”

We checked into a dusty hotel and slept the sleep of the dead.