Marcus Westberg Photography

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Marcus Westberg Photography Photography & storytelling: people, places & wildlife.

The descendants of critically endangered black rhinos who were moved out of Matusadona National Park in Zimbabwe more th...
04/06/2026

The descendants of critically endangered black rhinos who were moved out of Matusadona National Park in Zimbabwe more than three decades ago have now come back home. This reintroduction, spearheaded by , , and , supports Zimbabwe’s National Rhino Strategy, and is an important step toward establishing a viable black rhino population along the Zambezi. To call this a team effort doesn’t come close to doing it justice: hundreds of people worked together for years to make it happen.

I’ve been working with African Parks for nearly a decade now, and though I don’t do too many translocations - shifting dates makes them difficult to commit to, and even here I was only able to spend one day at each of the three capture sites due to last-minute changes and needing to juggle two assignments - stories like this one are important reminders of the immense good that is being done, despite the general state of the planet. Regardless of scale, conservation wins are always worth celebrating, and this is definitely a huge win - for conservation, Matusadona, and the people of Zimbabwe.

Fortunately for me, I get to go back to Matusadona at the end of the month to document the release of the rhinos into the park - they are currently being held in specially-built enclosures, where they can be closely monitored - and dive a bit deeper than the often pretty hectic capture days allow for. I have loved getting to know the Matusadona conservation team, and look forward to being able to spend more time with them.

First, though, a couple of days at home - Alva is 17 months old tomorrow, which is hard to believe since I’m sure she was a newborn just the other day - and another assignment in South Africa. After Matusadona, an adventure in .sangha awaits… but more about that another time.

Of all the species I was lucky enough to photograph in South Sudan last year, the endangered Nile lechwe was perhaps the...
02/06/2026

Of all the species I was lucky enough to photograph in South Sudan last year, the endangered Nile lechwe was perhaps the most special. Found only here and in western Ethiopia - where I was also able to go earlier this year - they are an aquatic antelope, spending most of their lives in shallow water.

According to conventional wisdom, Nile lechwe occur in groups of up to fifty females and a dominant male, but that’s clearly not true; we saw herds of several hundred animals, including at least a dozen males - which just goes to show how much we still have to learn. Their population has declined precipitously - perhaps by as much as 90% between 1983 and 2007 - as a result of human displacement and resettlements, an increase in forearms, and civil wars. Even now, this part of the Sudd is a no-fly zone, and the volatility of the area meant that I actually had to take time off from my assignment last year and travel there with and off-contract, as it were. Still: an incredibly special few days, and I’m incredibly grateful to and for facilitating it (and to and for convincing the lawyers to let me go).

The distinction of a species being “endangered” is both necessary and problematic. If we accept that species should not ...
16/05/2026

The distinction of a species being “endangered” is both necessary and problematic. If we accept that species should not be eradicated from existence by humans, then recognising which species are at particular risk makes complete sense. We might easily be living in a world without mountain gorillas; only the realisation of how few individuals were left almost half a century ago led to the intense conservation efforts that saved them from extinctions

The problem with the distinction isn’t for the endangered species, but the ones whose numbers have not yet hit rock bottom. Consider that of Africa’s largest predators - lions, leopards, crocodiles, cheetahs, spotted hyenas, wild dogs, and rock pythons - only one is classified as endangered (though the big cats are all considered ‘vulnerable’). If they disappear from a specific area, it may not threaten the overall status of the species, but that doesn’t make it any less catastrophic; the loss of any keystone species, or group of species, has immense knock-on effects on the rest of the ecosystem. So, while it’s important to know if a species is on the brink of extinction, this not being the case doesn’t necessarily make things any better.

The second issue isn’t conservation-related, but ethical. While humans care about the survival or disappearance of species, that’s unlikely to be on the mind of anyone else. Every animal on the planet wants to stay alive. Is the killing of a western lowland gorilla somehow less tragic or important than the killing of a mountain gorilla, just because there are more of them? Does the caged chicken or the cow whose calf was forcibly removed from her gain comfort from the fact that their species, strictly speaking, are thriving? A life, surely, is a life. Make the equivalent argument about humans, and its pitfalls are apparent: is my life worth more than that of someone from the US, India, or China just because there are far fewer Swedes in the world?

I’m not suggesting that we should care less about endangered species, or that preventing them from disappearing isn’t immensely important. Only that not belonging to an endangered species doesn’t make a life less precious.

Spending any amount of time with gorillas never fails to serve as a powerful reminder of how closely related we are to o...
10/05/2026

Spending any amount of time with gorillas never fails to serve as a powerful reminder of how closely related we are to one another. Although it isn’t difficult to feel connected to other, more distant relatives - elephants, cheetahs, meerkats - nowhere is that connection as vivid or as real as with our fellow great apes. Which makes our treatment of them even more shocking. How we can keep gorillas, chimpanzees or orangutans - so obviously sentient, intelligent beings - in captivity for our amusement is about as difficult to understand as any other atrocities our species has committed. It also begs the question of what we would have done had some isolated population of, say, Homo erectus survived until the present. Would we have recognized their humanity, or put them in cages, too? Luckily, for all our other misdeeds, the bringing back of mountain gorillas from the brink of extinction is a wonderful conservation success story. (Even if we were also the ones who nearly drove them to extinction.) And, as David Attenborough has so often attested: gorilla shenanigans are just about the most precious thing there is in this wonderful world of ours.

I’m not sure why I’ve put off posting about this, but time has been a bit hard to come by lately; I’ve either been in th...
09/05/2026

I’m not sure why I’ve put off posting about this, but time has been a bit hard to come by lately; I’ve either been in the field, or enjoyed a few precious days at home with my wonderful girls. Now, as luck would have it, I’m stuck in a hotel in southern DR Congo - indefinitely, as far as I can tell - 1500km from my passport, which has somehow ended up in Kinshasa.

Well, here it is: the May issue of contains a 26-page story about the Great Nile Migration, the world’s largest land animal migration. I can’t say it was particularly easy to pull off, but I’m incredibly happy with the result - not just the visuals, but also the way we structured the story, primarily told through voices from the ground in South Sudan. This landscape, this migration, is unlike anything else I have ever witnessed, and ever since my first assignment there for in 2023, I knew I wanted to come back and try to do it justice.

There are too many people to thank, but there are a few without whom this wouldn’t have been possible. First and foremost, , who encouraged me to pitch the story in the first place. Anne () who took over when Alexa left Nat Geo, and walked me through the entire post-shoot jungle. Matt Skenazy, who edited the text, and who wrote it. Then, of course, the entire team at - especially , without whose aerial acrobatics I wouldn’t have ended up with anything to publish - and, in general, the people of South Sudan for being nothing but welcoming. Last but not least, the team in Johannesburg; it’s coming up on ten years of working together, believe it or not, and so far I’d say it’s going pretty well.

07/05/2026

I’m currently wrapping up an assignment in Kundelungu, a national park in the far southeast of the DR Congo, and thought I’d share a behind-the-scene look at what this kind of work sometimes requires. Kundelungu has been a wonderful surprise - an incredible scenic park - but as it’s a new project for , and having been largely neglected before their arrival, logistics and infrastructure were a bit on the challenging side. The state of the “roads” has meant that photographing almost any location required us spending the night, and in two weeks we’ve done almost 20 hours on the back of motorbikes; countless more in cars; hours slogging through mosquito-infested swamps on foot; forded rivers, etc. In other words, a jolly adventure.

My reason for sharing this footage is partly to dissuade anyone of romantic notions regarding conservation photography - at least of the kind I do - but mostly to highlight the incredibly challenging nature of conservation in many parts of Africa. Kundelungu’s new park manager, who I’ve worked with several times in his native Benin - where land mines and terrorist attacks inside the national parks was and remains a very real threat - accompanied me on most of my mission, and will need to keep up that work for the foreseeable future. My assignment was originally scheduled for March; had it gone ahead as planned, during the height of the rainy season, we wouldn’t have been able to move around even on motorbikes. Unfortunately, the reason for the shift in dates wasn’t due to awareness of weather, but tragedy: an attack on Kundelungu’s sister park, Upemba, during which seven staff members were murdered.��My own assignments are rarely longer than two or three weeks, so my exposure is of course limited. But these brief visits always serve to fill me with respect of and appreciation for the incredible people who choose to live and work in places like Kundelungu, despite the discomfort and risks. And they are a great reminder of the complex and challenging nature of conservation in so many places. For which I will always be grateful.

Monday morning mood? Not that the day of the week matters much on assignment, but I suspect I’ll be feeling a little bit...
04/05/2026

Monday morning mood? Not that the day of the week matters much on assignment, but I suspect I’ll be feeling a little bit like this meerkat later today, as Kundelungu park manager Aziz and I are about to head into the park’s (very marshy) “annex zone”, which will (once again) involve half a day of us doing our best to hang onto the backs of two motorcycles; the roads, where they exist, are so bad that there’s no point to even make the attempt in the park’s Landcruiser. Since my back and legs are still suffering from the after-effects of last week’s expedition to Lofoi Falls, I don’t imagine I’ll be feeling particularly sprightly tonight. The goal? Kudu, and local fishing communities, with absolutely no guarantee of success - but no doubt a wonderful adventure nonetheless.

It’s been over three years, but this moment has stayed with me in a way that very few others have. One of the many wonde...
29/04/2026

It’s been over three years, but this moment has stayed with me in a way that very few others have. One of the many wonderful aspects of parenthood has been the joy of re-discovering the world through the eyes of my now 16-month old daughter, who still can’t contain her excitement whenever she sees a bird. Watching her trying to work out how to make sense of new impressions and experiences is beyond special. As adults, we sometimes forget what it’s like to experience something for the first time.

Three years ago, during a large collaring operation in South Sudan, as part of an effort by to engage local communities more directly in the conservation process, we set out from the large Jie village of Kassangor together with two of their chiefs. Despite calling Boma National Park home, they had - understandably - never been so close to a living elephant, much less touched one. As visitors, we tend to forget that the wildlife we want to see can cause considerable damage to local lives and livelihoods, and with no tourism in the area there would have been few tangible benefits of having elephants around.

I had expected their excitement at being in a helicopter for the first time - that’s a first experience of my own that I can still remember - and of course it’s usually exciting to be so close to a large, wild animal. But the sheer joy and fascination they both obviously felt, and the tenderness they showed this giant destroyer of crops, was incredibly moving. They took turns feeling the warm breath of the bull elephant coming out of the tip of his trunk, and were both far more gentle whenever they touched his skin than most people I have seen in similar situations. Though I don’t want to draw any sweeping conclusions from anecdotes like this one, moments like these absolutely fill me with hope of a future where we manage to maintain some kind of balance between ourselves and the natural world from which we emerged, and on which we still depend for both life and a true sense if belonging.

This image was the runner-up in the Changemakers category of the Environmental Photographer of the Year Awards (.photoaward) in 2024.

It was nearly a decade ago that I came across two beautiful books, Remembering Elephants and Remembering Rhinos, and fou...
24/04/2026

It was nearly a decade ago that I came across two beautiful books, Remembering Elephants and Remembering Rhinos, and found out that a third one - Remembering Great Apes - was in the making. Since I had spent a fair amount of time photographing Eastern lowland gorillas in the DRC, I reached out to the project’s founder, , and offered her some of my images. Since then, I have been a big fan of the books - beautiful, important, inspiring - and have contributed to all bar one (since I have never photographed wild tigers).

The 2025 edition focused partly on pangolins, and my recent assignment in Cameroon showed me firsthand how some of the funds raised by the books have been used, delivering essential electricity (via solar power) at .cameroon. Now, the eleventh book in the series is underway, and it will allow me to connect yet more dots and projects. Remembering Giraffes will feature stunning photographs from across the continent, and my contributions will come from remote areas in DR Congo and South Sudan that I have been fortunate enough to visit on various assignments.

This also gives me a good reason to share a handful of images from one of the most spectacular giraffe sightings I have ever had: a few small herds moving through the Sudd wetlands in Jonglei State in northern South Sudan. If you look carefully at some of the photos, you can see the water along the paths the giraffe are moving along. Quite something to behold.

The Kickstarter for Remembering Giraffes ends this Sunday, and I’d encourage anyone who can to pre-order a copy of the book (as well as some of the other goodies on offer). Among the contributors already named are many of the world’s finest wildlife photographers, so just like the previous ten books, this one will no doubt adorn any room it finds itself in. You’ll find the link at . 🦒

22/04/2026

Despite the state of the world and the apparent cruelty we constantly bear witness to, I am rarely anything but upbeat and hopeful. Partly, I just can’t help myself: while some people thrive on anger and outrage, my energy comes from remaining positive. Mostly, though, it’s because I have the immense privilege of being able to spend time with some of the most incredible people and projects in the world of conservation.

Currently on my way to Kundelungu National Park - an assignment for delayed by the unfortunate tragedy in Upemba in early March - I just came back from exactly such an encounter. For a week, I was allowed to witness the wonderful work done by .cameroon as the team rescued, rehabilitated and released tree pangolins in Cameroon. Pangolins, as many of you probably know, are the world’s most (illegally) trafficked wild animal, desired for the nonexistent benefits of their scales as well as for their meat. More than 100,000 of them are killed and trafficked every year.

The compassion and dedication shown by everyone involved - not least by Lisa Hywood, founder of , who joined writer Henry and me in Cameroon - was unbelievable. As for the individual pangolins… well, you can see for yourselves. They really are remarkable animals.

As adorable as this scene is, however, it’s important to note that pangolins are not pets. In fact, simply keeping them alive - not to mention healthy - is incredibly difficult and labor intensive. As soon as they are strong enough to survive in the wild, the pangolins cared for here are returned to their natural habitat, as far from human presence as possible.

As this is a assignment, it’ll be a while until I can share photos. In the meantime, please consider supporting this truly groundbreaking - and heartbreaking, if you consider why it exists in the first place - project. ❤️

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