The path grew dark as the mountain cut off the last stand of daylight. I struggled to see my boots beneath me. What had started as a late afternoon hike had slipped into early evening.

The blackening forest around me felt familiar—the pale rock faces jutting out between the canopy, the scent of the pines in the air – it was just like the Tamar forests of home. An unfamiliar sound jolted me back to reality. I stopped, and listened more intently. The shake of a tree and the consequential thuds of falling apples confirmed the presence of something large in the undergrowth. The sound pushed through the bushes once again. The raspy breath of a large animal cut through the air. A low, guttural growl. My heartbeat drowned out the rest. I backed away slowly, and made my exit as I came. I hiked home a little unnerved, but mostly excited.

In the highly competitive profession of wildlife conservation, you need lots of experience before you get any chance of being considered for a permanent position. That’s why I’m in Abruzzo, Italy’s ‘Wild Heart’, on a three month-long trip learning about the practice of brown bear (Ursus arctos) conservation and their coexistence with people.

Once found throughout the Italian Peninsula, centuries of hunting, persecution and habitat loss left around 60 bears in just a few isolated pockets of the central Apennine mountains. Protected areas and tireless conservation work has eased the decline of this endemic population.

However, the protected areas can only support a certain number of bears, and now, some individuals are leaving in search of other suitable territories. This is where the conflict between humans and bears can begin. These ‘wandering’ bears are often young and inexperienced in finding food. In a human-dominated landscape, a farmer’s fruit orchards or chicken coops may prove irresistible to a hungry bear. For the bears it's an all-you-can eat buffet, but to a farmer, this is their livelihood and income.

In order to minimise bear damage and conflict with farmers, preventative measures need to be put in place. In the Apennines, this can be installing bear-resistant waste bins (Not bear-proof, almost nothing is completely bear-proof), electric fences to section off agricultural commodities and the pruning of fruiting trees. A combination of these techniques reduces the temptations for an inquisitive bear to enter human settlements looking for food.

Large carnivores, such as brown bears, are vital for the health and balance of an ecosystem. They lower the levels of disease in prey species, such as deer, by hunting the sick and injured individuals and keeping the herds from overpopulating. Bears are also great examples of seed dispensers, as they carry plant seeds on their fur or in droppings, they increase the diversity of the forest flora. Besides their ecological role, large carnivores also have significant roles within the local communities and folklore, becoming a defining symbol of a region and its people.

Back home, you can no longer hear the breath of a foraging bear after dark. We have seen much of our native wildlife disappear and – unless you’re a believer in the Beast of Bodmin Moor – our lands have long been void of top predators, leaving a large, bear-shaped hole in the ecosystem.

Despite our diminished megafauna, the wilds of the Tamar have been hugely inspiring in my ‘conservation-career-pursuit’. Our dramatic landscapes, rivers and oceans all stirred me to care about the wilderness and its wildlife. Hours spent in our forests and beaches taught me the benefits that nature brings, not just to our mental and physical health but also to the character of a region. Just as Abruzzo is known as the ‘Bear Capital’ of Italy, the lands of the South West are renowned for their wild, rugged landscapes.

Trips to Dartmoor Zoo, further fuelled my interests. There I was introduced to an assortment of big cats, wolves and bears. In their presence I felt truly captivated, and decided to dedicate my future to protecting the last remaining top predators of the world, and – where possible – educate people on their significance and their conservation.

Sticking to my passions, I swapped the Tamar for the Thames, to earn a degree in Zoology at the Queen Mary University of London. There I got to complete projects on lions and join a jaguar research team in the summer between semesters. And, after graduating in July 2024, I can now begin my career in large carnivore conservation.

And although all our bears may be long gone, I’m thankful to have been raised on the banks of the Tamar.