“Where did you get that bite from?”

“From the marbled polecat”

“Oh, you have such interesting animals biting you. Was this somewhere in the tropics?”

“No, in Ukraine”

While waiting for the shot of a rabies vaccine in the hallway of the Kharkiv emergency room, zoologist Volodymyr Yarotskyy tried to explain to people what kind of animal had bitten him. No one there had ever heard of such a beast.

What is the marbled polecat? It is a small but mighty creature. This carnivorous animal is similar to a European polecat, but it has its own peculiarities. It has long claws, strong muscles, and can scream loudly.

Returning the marbled polecat into the wild was an adventure in itself for Volodymyr Yarotskyy. Continue reading to find out how it went. You will also find out what the marbled polecat can do and what helps and restricts its reemergence in the Ukrainian steppes.

Face to face with a beast

Volodymyr shares, “In the summer of 2020, I was leading a tour to the Homilsha Woods National Nature Park [in the Kharkiv region]. And that’s when my colleagues called me and said that they had caught a marbled polecat at the biological station of the V. N. Karazin Kharkiv National University in Haidary is a village in the Kharkiv region.Haidary. We went there to have a look at the animal. It was in poor shape, and it bit me. I knew how to properly hold a ferret, just under its front paws. Then it can’t bite. In a marbled polecat, however, the tilt of the head is sufficient to bite your finger. The Mustelidae family, similarly to pit bulls, has the unique ability to bite through the flesh. Even though I was wearing welder’s gloves, the marbled polecat bit through them. It was my first encounter with an animal.”

The marbled polecat is a member of the Mustelidae family (aka mustelids), which includes animals that are both strong and plastic. Thus, it is related to the European ferret, marten, badger, otter, and skunk. And it has even more certain similarities to the skunk, but more on that later.

The animal’s Latin name, Vormela peregusna, comes from the Ukrainian language! The term peregusna is derived from perehuznya (перегyзня), which means “polecat” in Ukrainian. Vormela means “little worm”. Its body is very long and graceful, similar to that of a ferret or a weasel.

The species is known as the marbled polecat because of its color. The part pole, which means “chicken,” suggests that the animal is capable of stealing poultry. Yes, it did get caught doing this.

Marbled polecats prefer solitude. They spend time together only during the mating season.

In the article, Ukrainian zoologists refer to marbled polecats as the “occupied fauna”, i.e., animals that are not monitored by Ukrainian scientists. The scientific establishments, where the animal was safeguarded, are currently occupied, and the animal often shows up where there is active fighting.

Animals frequently play dead in the face of danger, a phenomenon known as apparent death. The most likely explanation is that predators are drawn to moving objects, and something that shows no signs of life will not draw their interest. However, some animals exhibit this behavior for different kinds of reasons. Certain snakes can wait for prey, whereas ants do so to avoid conflict.

Snakes, fish, insects, and mammals all pretend to be dead. For instance, possums. “Playing possum” means pretending to be dead or sleeping so that someone will not annoy or attack you. The black-footed ferret, skunk, and weasel can all do this. And the marbled polecat is an expert at playing the role of the dead.

But first, the marbled polecat will try other methods. When it detects danger, it stands on its hind legs and flashes its bright colors, which serve as a warning signal throughout the animal kingdom. In addition, the marbled polecat has special anal glands that can secrete a pungent odor. It also does this when it pretends to be dead or when it feels threatened.

Broken plans 

Volodymyr continues, “The girls placed the marbled polecat in a rabbit cage in an abandoned apartment that was cluttered with stuff.

I went to Lysychansk via Kreminna is a town in the Luhansk region, close to Lysychansk. Kreminna because I have family there. And I have a friend, Brian, from the US, who fell in love with Ukrainian forests and lived in Siverskodonetsk. I said, ‘Brian, can you give me a ride from Kreminna to Lysychansk? We need to pick up some rare animals, go to the forest, and release them. An hour there, an hour back…’ 

‘Don’t they stink?’

‘It’ll be fine.’ His wife was pregnant, and she was worried about the car being clean and her husband coming back as soon as possible.

I was going to vaccinate the marbled polecats against rabies, and I wanted to also take their paw prints and DNA material. But nope! It turned out that one of the marbled polecats had damaged the cage and gotten out. We spent three hours searching. We discovered it where half a brick had been broken off, behind the toilet. The animal curled up there, sleeping. We had to dismantle the toilet to get it out. Obviously, I was unable to do anything with the animals [vaccinate them and engage in research] because they were too frightened. We had to bring them to the forest, but I was bitten again.”

With its strong paws and long claws, the marbled polecat digs a spacious hole. Although when it is not in the mood to dig, it can sleep in someone else’s.

With the help of radio tracking, it was found that the marbled polecat covers up to one kilometer a day, rarely repeating its previous route and changing its den and territory of activity every 2-3 days. It spends time hunting, and when it is tired, it sleeps.

Temporary inconvenience

Volodymyr recalls, “When the marbled polecat bit me for the second time, I realized that I needed to get vaccinated against rabies.

Well, it’s 10 pm. We are going to an emergency room. They have no idea what the marbled polecat is there. And the rabies vaccine that was present contained six doses… Finally, they told me firmly that I needed to return for my next dose or find another vaccine from the same series.

They monitored me for two hours following the vaccination. Meanwhile, the marbled polecats were screaming. Plus, it smelled like there were skunks in the car.

Finally, when we went to release the animals, it was night . Brian brought me to Siverskodonetsk and said, ‘I’m not taking you to Kreminna, because my wife is waiting, but I’ll get you a taxi.’ And it was raining so heavily! Just a downpour! We also drove all over Siverskodonetsk in search of an ATM at two in the morning. We couldn’t see the road, there were streams of water everywhere.

In Kreminna, they quickly checked whether there was a batch of the vaccine I needed. And there was! So I got vaccinated there. And then I went home to Kharkiv and made 7 calls to get a referral for further vaccination. This is the twenty-first century, yet not everyone receives full vaccinations. People arrive on the first day, do not continue, and die from rabies.”

The boom of marbled polecats

Volodymyr elaborates, “In 2022-2023, there was a wave of mice in the trenches. At that time, there were many reports that marbled polecats were seen there. These are not very good stories, because these marbled polecats ended up in private hands. My colleagues from the NGO Ferret Galaxy and I called around to find out what the fate of the animals was. We were told that they were released. But it turned out that this was not always the case.

It happened that people realized that they could not keep a marbled polecat because it is a very special animal. Even though it appears adorable, it jumps at you, bites, and stinks. And then the animals get released. We know of two such cases.

This is the rarest species among mustelids. However, they are often captured.

Another marbled polecat I know of was in the Donetsk region. The animal was found near Kramatorsk is a city in the Donetsk region.Kramatorsk and was almost sold on the street. And then the man turned to Ferret Galaxy to consult about the maintenance of the animal… He swore that he had released the marbled polecat. But I don’t know if that really happened.” 

At the turn of the twentieth century, the marbled polecat was a common sight in the Azov steppes and on the territory of the modern Donetsk region. In the second half of the century, the animal began to die out.

The virgin steppe was plowed up more and more intensively, and cattle were grazed on what remained. The dogs that helped the shepherds herd their flocks caught wild animals in the steppes, including marbled polecats.

In the 1990s, scientists believed that only 100-150 marbled polecats remained in Ukraine. Gradually, cattle breeding in the East began to decline. And the predatory animal was seen more often. The revival of the marbled polecat began in 1998, as scientists later recorded. And since 2009, there has been a boom in the number of marbled polecats (if you can even call it that, given there have only been 29 of them identified over 43 years).

In 2010, a fight between two males was seen in Pryazovia is the geographic area of the north coast of the Sea of Azov, located in south-eastern Ukraine. Source: Wikipedia.Pryazovia, watched by another marbled polecat, probably a female. In 2016, a female was caught near Kramatorsk, which was a local sensation. According to the author of the study, 7 marbled polecats were found around Kramatorsk from 2016 to 2023.

In recent years, videos of marbled polecats from the trenches have been shared online. Last year, “a marble cat” was seen near a lake in Dnipro. And this year it was also spotted near Ukrainian military positions.

If you ever come across one, here’s a quick reminder: It is against the law in Ukraine to keep a Red List animal in captivity or to sell it.

The cover photo shows a marbled polecat at Magdeburg Zoo in Germany. Photo by Klaus Rudolph. Source: http://www.biolib.cz

“All night, I packed every crevice of the car with supplies and dog food. I was afraid to close the door in case it made too much noise. Outside, there was the crackle [of gunfire] and machine-gun bursts.” This is how Maryna from Kherson, the owner of eight dogs, prepared to leave the occupied territory. She had no intention of abandoning any of her animals.

NGOs often retrieve pets left behind by their owners in frontline areas — sometimes still tied up. Yet, some people are capable of heroic feats to keep their animals fed during the occupation and ensure they’re brought along when escaping. Which cases are more common? We can’t quantify it, but we can share a few stories of people who evacuated with their pets.

Escaping Occupation with Eight Dogs

A house in northern Portugal near a eucalyptus forest. Not long ago, it was uninhabitable, but Maryna Skrypnychenko and her husband have already made significant repairs. Their first task was fencing the yard to prevent their dogs — Yolkin, Yozhyk, Yoryk, Martyska, Mukha, Motya, Mysha, and Chucha — from running off. All of these dogs were once strays roaming around the outskirts of Kherson. One by one, Maryna took them in. But when the occupation began, her home city turned into a living hell. For her own safety, she needed to leave. With eight dogs, though? Here is how she did it.

A House Outside the City

We had a large, beautiful home near Kherson on the banks of the Inhulets River. I organized yoga seminars and art plein-airs there. It was truly a bright, welcoming place. This winter, it served as a shelter for our soldiers.

Recently, we learned that our home no longer exists: it took a direct hit and burned down.

Living on the outskirts of the city, I often saw packs of stray puppies, and I would take in the weakest ones. I first adopted one dog, then another, and eventually, I ended up with eight. My husband built them kennels and enclosures, and they had everything they needed.

A Month in the Basement

When the war began, russian forces immediately entered Kherson. My husband, a sailor, was away on a voyage. I took my mother from Kherson, thinking it would be safer outside the city. But on the very first day, we had to move into the basement. We didn’t know it yet, but missiles and drones were already overhead… And so we spent a month in that basement with the dogs.

They reacted badly to everything. They were terrified of explosions and still hate loud noises to this day.

About a week into the occupation, I saw russian paratroopers — they seemed to emerge from the ground. In full gear — it looked like something out of a movie! One of them asked, “Why haven’t you left?” I was too scared to respond. Then he said, “Get back in the basement and stay there.”

Neighbors gave me some fish, which I boiled and fed to my dogs, both the house pets and the strays outside. Now, my dogs refuse to eat fish at all.

Sometimes, I would go to a neighbor for eggs. Once, I pretended to be going for eggs again but actually went to spray-paint something on a garage. I called a friend to talk with me on the phone — if they shot me, at least she’d hear it. My first canister ran out, so I pulled out another and finished writing: “russians, go f*** yourselves.”

The Departure

The invaders had taken vehicles from everyone in the area. My car survived only because the garage was part of the house, and they hadn’t realized it was there. But if I wanted to leave, I’d need to get the car out without drawing attention. I hesitated for fear they’d seize it, as they had others.

A friend found a farmer who was trying to protect his fields and had managed to negotiate a work permit with them. He called and told me, “Be ready.” All night, I packed every crevice of the car with supplies and dog food. I was afraid to close the door in case it made too much noise. Outside, there was the crackle [of gunfire] and machine-gun bursts. Who or what they were shooting at, I had no idea.

Around six in the morning, the farmer called again, “Pull out of the garage but don’t open the gate. Wait until you see an armored vehicle with the letter Z, then open it.”

The farmer somehow persuaded the invaders to send an armored vehicle to the dacha [summer house] neighborhood, supposedly to “pacify” the soldiers who were causing destruction everywhere. When the personnel carrier arrived on my street, he called again, “Go now.”

By then, I had collected all eight dogs. Half of them had never been inside a car before. I stuffed them in, layered blankets on the back seat, and my mother lay across them because there was no room to sit. The dogs, frightened, sat still and quiet.

It was “fun”… I drove through twelve invader checkpoints! At each one, the soldiers inspected the cars. As I approached a checkpoint, I rolled down the windows. Eight snouts would immediately stick out, and the invaders would just say, “Get the f**k out of here.”

I reached Kherson. By a supermarket, women with children would gather each day in cars to form a convoy — it was less frightening to travel together. I joined the convoy. As soon as we left Kherson, we got stuck; a battle was underway, so we couldn’t move. There were about 200–300 cars, full of children and dogs… Eventually, the entire convoy turned back.

But I thought, “To hell with it. If I die, so be it.” And I went on.

It took us twelve hours to reach Koblevo — a drive that would normally take two and a half hours.

The dogs sat quietly like mice in the car. Only in Koblevo did I let them out for the first time… But I was still scared; there were explosions even there. Well, it was insane. No romance to it at all!

To Portugal With Plywood for a Window

At the customs checkpoint on the Romanian border, I rolled down the window and got out. Two of the dogs immediately jumped out. We had already been waiting in line for 3–4 hours. People were bored, so my chasing after the dogs entertained everyone, and at least we got a bit of exercise.

In Romania, I was met by so many volunteers! When they saw the animals, they started taking pictures and giving me food for them… I told them I had no space left to carry it. “Take it anyway!” It moved me to tears, I still remember it.

The first night, I planned to sleep outdoors. I set out eight bowls for the dogs, but the police came over, asked me not to sleep outside, and escorted us to a hotel. There, in the restaurant, they moved all the furniture, laid out mattresses, and set up beds for refugees.

I thought, “If anyone makes a sound, all eight dogs will start barking…” So I decided to sleep in the car near the hotel. I started the engine to charge my phone, then someone came over, and I got distracted and stepped out. The car had a button on the armrest that locked the doors. The dogs pressed it, locking themselves inside a running car! Until four in the morning, I tried to coax them to press the button again, but nothing worked. Finally, the volunteers broke a window so I could climb in. I patched it with plywood and continued across Europe.

Since then, the dogs have refused to get into a car. I don’t force them.

I remember sitting in that basement when my husband called and said, “I can’t live in a world without you.” That gave me the strength to leave. If they kill me, then so be it, but hiding in the basement, trembling, and waiting for them to come for me was too much. So, I gathered everyone and started the car…

Our home is gone, but the animals are safe. I’m happy that all our dogs are still with us. 

Six People, Five Dogs, Four Cats, and a Turtle

A family from Selydove in the Donetsk region is a large family with quite a lot of pets. Sviatoslav Torkhov worked in the mines while his wife Yuliya raised their three children: Oleksandr, Artem, and Alla. Yuliya’s mother lived nearby. This summer, they were forced to make drastic changes to their lives.

After the Airstrike

Yuliya: On June 23, there were two strikes on our town. Around 4 a.m., a shell hit the garden. Our roof only had some tiles slide off, and parts of the ceiling collapsed. It was still fixable, so we started repairs. My husband was on the roof, and the children, my mother, and I — with the dogs — were in the yard. At 5 p.m., there was another strike, this time hitting just beyond our yard. The windows shattered, and the ceiling collapsed. My husband fell from the roof, sustaining head and rib injuries. We were standing below, shielded from the debris by the garage, but all of us suffered concussions. The news said it was an aerial bomb, though we don’t know exactly what kind.

Our dog Stitch hid with us behind the garage while his mother, an Alabai named Lavyna, was near the fence with her little puppy, Misha. From a distance after the blast, I saw Lavyna lying there. I was afraid to approach, thinking she might be dead. But then the rescue workers checked on my husband and asked, “Would you like to check on your dog?” I finally went over and realized she was still breathing.

I called her name, “Lavyna, Lavyna,” and began petting her. She had hidden her puppy beneath her. She was badly concussed but had no other injuries and gradually started to come around.

Then, we began considering where to relocate and started searching for a place to live. We traveled a lot, and it was heartbreaking to make the animals wait for us for so long each time we left.

Aside from Lavyna and her puppies, we also have Stella, a mixed breed, and Nora, a shepherd dog, plus four cats — Busya, the Scottish Fold, Alisa, and her kittens, Borysych and Bagheera. And there’s also Burger the turtle.

Finding a way to transport all of them was a real challenge.

Sviatoslav: Finally, we found a contact for UAnimals and arranged for help transporting the animals. Volunteers Mariya Holovina and Andriy Zhdanov came. We remember them fondly to this day.

They prepared crates and laid hay in the car. I placed the animals in the crates, and Mariya and Andriy helped get them into the car. The animals didn’t whimper or try to escape — it was as if they understood everything would be okay.

In Petropavlivka

Sviatoslav: Few places allow families with children to stay, let alone with pets! With our large family, it was tough to rent a place where we could live with both kids and dogs.

I’m a miner, so we needed to be close to a mine. We finally found such a place.

Yuliya: We moved to Petropavlivka in the Dnipropetrovsk region. I arrived three days early to settle in and prepare to welcome the animals. I waited for them and settled them all in. Now they’re doing well.

The cats, who always lived in our trees, are still up in the trees. Lavyna adores our children but barks at strangers. If she runs outside, she won’t harm anyone, but people are still afraid of her — she’s huge. So she stays in an enclosure.

Stitch also wanted to run around freely and couldn’t be made to stay in one spot, so we had to add him to the enclosure. Still, the dogs found a way to sneak out to the yard.

Nora, the shepherd, is also a guard dog but is attached to us, having been with us since she was a puppy. Stella, an older dog, will give you her paw if you approach her — she loves attention.

How could we abandon them? We love them and didn’t bring them into our lives just to leave them behind. That thought never even crossed our minds.

Sviatoslav: Soon, we’ll bring my mother-in-law here; she’s still in Selydove. Then our family will be even larger. If you’re in a similar situation, don’t give up. Take your pets with you since pets are family members.

The Cat Who Celebrated Kherson’s Liberation

Yevheniya Akubekova lives in Kherson. Before the full-scale invasion, she worked as a cashier in a shopping mall. When the full-scale war began, the mall was destroyed, and she lost her job. Yevheniya had two cats, and just before February 24, 2022, she gained a third — the cat was left temporarily by her sister, who went to work in Poland. As it turned out, all three cats weren’t afraid of water: they traveled by boat and even went fishing. Yevheniya shared her experience of moving from place to place with her three cats.

The Start of the Occupation

We had two cats — Zoya and Varyushka — and in 2022, we also had my sister’s cat, Joey. He stayed with us through the war and occupation but is now back with my sister.

When Kherson was occupied, my husband and I didn’t leave the house for two weeks. Then, the cat food ran out, and our human food supplies were also running low. I was baking bread at home, but we were out of oil and sugar. So, we started going out to buy food. On April 9, we left for our dacha.

The left bank of the Dnipro is dotted with river channels and dachas on islands. We stayed there up until December 5. We planted a garden and caught fish. There was no electricity in the city, but we had it at the dacha.

The cats were terrified of the shelling. They still get scared and hide. It was horrifying when the orc [russian] planes flew overhead to bomb us. They flew so low, right above the power lines. The poor cats didn’t know where to run, and neither did we, crouching down in fear. I called for the cats, but they were panicked. When they heard a plane approaching from afar, they would dart inside the house.

Apart from that, the cats had a wonderful time there. My husband would fish and feed both our cats and the neighboring ones. The price of pet food skyrocketed. At first, locals raised prices on the remaining supplies, then the russians brought in more and sold it at triple the price.

Our biggest softie is Joey. He is affectionate and friendly. He followed me all over the island; everyone knew he was my cat. Liza was a stout little thing, bustling around chasing snakes and mice, getting leaner and more agile. Varya, the oldest, loved sitting in the attic — she had her own little sanctuary up there.

The cats even started bringing grass snakes into the house. They knew all the little holes and cracks where the snakes hid. I yelled at them to stop dragging those poor snakes inside!

The cats loved it there, and it was hard for them when we returned to the city. Joey didn’t eat for a week out of sadness.

Every weekend, I would take a boat to Kherson to buy essentials — oil, grains, or sugar — the things we couldn’t grow ourselves. My husband and I would pass through the Ostriv microdistrict. The orcs had a checkpoint there. They’d check our bags and phones. Once, we were boarded by an orc boat, they searched us and checked our passports and phones.

Liberation

I remember when Kherson was liberated. I went shopping by boat. We all knew each other, everyone else was also going. So we hired a taxi, we were on our way, and we saw a pickup truck with Odesa license plates and a guy in camouflage waving at us. I thought, “What a bastard, they’ve seized another of our cars, and he’s even waving.” I was so stressed I didn’t even notice his uniform was different! I arrived at the market, and it was buzzing: “They’re here, they’re here!” We’d been warned not to gather in groups because it might be a trap — the invaders could be disguising themselves… I said, “People, don’t gather!” They asked, “Don’t you want it to be true?” “Of course I do,” I replied, “but we were warned it could be a provocation.” I didn’t believe it. And Kherson was abuzz.

When we returned to the island, the talk was the same: “Did you hear?” “Is it true?” When it became clear that our forces really had come, we gathered everyone on the island and celebrated. Each family brought whatever they had, and we sat together, sang, took photos, and cried. Even the cat found us and sat at the table with us!

Then, the islands became a target for shelling. They used drones to watch where people were moving and fired at those spots. Soon everyone had fled, and we left in a hurry too.

We left our belongings behind but took the cats. Three carriers, two backpacks.

The dacha is now under orc control. We don’t know if we’ll ever return. Is it mined, is it destroyed? At least we have our animals with us. 

Viktor Shapoval has led Askania-Nova for two months longer than the duration of the full-scale war with russia. Prior to this role, he served for 20 years as a research officer and head of the biomonitoring and protected steppe laboratory within the reserve, joining right after graduating from Kherson State University. Over this time, he has not only acquired extensive knowledge about the unique steppe environment but has also, as he says, developed a deep love for Askania. It pains him to watch from afar as the reserve suffers under russian occupation, a situation he shares in the following interview.

History and Significance

The full-scale invasion marks Askania’s third encounter with war, and military conflicts are fundamentally incompatible with preserving natural reserves. During the Second World War, German and Soviet forces ravaged Askania-Nova’s infrastructure, showing little regard for the animals’ welfare; the Germans even transported a significant part of the collection away. This happened during the First World War as well. Currently, only its distance from the frontline provides a degree of safety.

Askania-Nova was seized on the first day of the full-scale invasion without notable resistance as the fighting began closer to the Dnipro River and near Melitopol. There were only isolated clashes near the reserve, and damaged military vehicles were found on its outskirts. However, the level of combat intensity witnessed in other Ukrainian protected areas did not occur in Askania-Nova.

It wasn’t until two months later, on May 2, 2022, that representatives of the occupation authorities arrived. During their visit, I heard much “instruction” about the so-called “special military operation,” responsibility, and other such nonsense. I made my Ukrainian stance and a lack of desire to cooperate clear. That, unsurprisingly, was not well-received. I also stated the amount required to sustain the reserve, and from their reaction, I saw that they appeared “a bit” surprised. They assumed they could simply step in and “rescue” us but this happened to be too expensive.

I believe the reason for their initial delay in coming to Askania-Nova was banal: they prioritized capturing profitable farms and agricultural enterprises. There is no need to look for any environmental logic or understanding of the historical value of Askania-Nova in their actions. They were utterly disinterested in the history, cultural and ecological value, or international conservation status of the reserve. 

Money and Support

The reserve is a budget-funded institution, so we had a procurement plan, with the final stages of tendering scheduled for late February. Naturally, everything was disrupted, and we faced a challenge in sourcing food for the animals. This didn’t mean starvation struck immediately. We had some reserves, but the feed consumption in Askania-Nova is quite high.

The frontline severely disrupted and cut off all logistics — Askania-Nova essentially turned into an isolated island amid a swamp. We had no choice but to openly request help via social media. It was a risky move; it’s no secret that the FSB monitors social media.

When we posted our first message about Askania-Nova’s critical needs, we connected with Oleksandr Todorchuk [founder of UAnimals]. Late that night, he wired us a substantial amount. A person we had never interacted with understood the situation and trusted us. We used that initial donation from UAnimals to purchase the first batch of feed. And we are incredibly grateful.

All those willing to help, including international partners and charitable organizations, could only support us financially. Delivering supplies to Askania-Nova from [Ukraine-]controlled territory was impossible, and requesting it from the other side was simply immoral, and we rejected that idea outright. We purchased goods within the occupied territory from our local farms. Thanks to this assistance, we managed to sustain ourselves in almost autonomous mode for more then a year.

Duty and Responsibility

The question of evacuation was not open for me for a long time. The responsibility for the reserve rested squarely on me as the director. For employees whose presence wasn’t essential on-site, we implemented remote work. However, those who cared for the animals and plants remained in the reserve on their workplaces.

We are neither a library nor a trolleybus depot — you can’t close us for a certain period of time and ask the animals to wait.

I left on the last day before the annexation was announced, on September 30, 2022. During the seven months I was in Askania, we stabilized the situation — securing feed, building materials for routine repairs, and spare parts for equipment maintenance.

A budget-funded institution has specific obligations, such as preparing financial and scientific reports. While on occupied territory, I couldn’t fulfill these. By leaving, I was able to meet with our partners and arrange charitable funding for the reserve, managing Askania-Nova remotely.

Even in such challenging circumstances, the reserve operated under Ukrainian jurisdiction. It’s telling that on collaborator Volodymyr Saldo’s channel, there was information of Askania-Nova “sabotaging” the russian authorities’ orders for over a year — a recognition of our resistance by the invaders themselves. To me, “sabotaged” is too mild a term.

On March 20, 2023, Dmitry Meshcheryakov was installed as the occupation director. Since then, all charitable expenses for Askania-Nova’s upkeep have ceased.

We still receive information about what is happening in the reserve, but I no longer have direct leverage. We document all the damage to the natural and artificial ecosystems in Askania-Nova, develop proposals for assessing these damages, and relay this to the relevant authorities and agencies to ensure future compensation through reparations from the agressor.

Our scientific work continues. We received a certification confirming the institution’s status as a scientific establishment, we continue to carry out a research program, and publish the professional journal Bulletin of the Biosphere Reserve Askania-Nova. 

There are still many things that can be accomplished remotely. For example, we document all fires. Up until March 2023, we could inspect fire zones directly, but now we rely on satellite images.

Negligence and Lawlessness

In August 2023, there was a large-scale fire in the Great Chapelsky Hollow [also referred to as the Great Chapelsky Lowland] where hoofed animals are kept. Predictably, the invaders immediately blamed the Ukrainian Armed Forces, alleging that artillery fire was the cause. They even announced some sort of investigation, but judging by the silence that followed, they quickly realized their own involvement in the course of this “investigation.”

The lack of proper scientific and veterinary oversight in the reserve causes significant issues and animal deaths. For instance, in November 2023, three African buffaloes died on the Big Chapelsky Pod. You might ask why a warm-climate African animal was left in unsuitable conditions in November. The answer is simple: the occupation administration has no relevant experience. They failed to properly move the animals to winter enclosures. Another animal died from an injury caused by a vehicle — a buffalo fractured its cervical vertebra and died on the spot. We have reported all these incidents to law enforcement.

The animals also suffer from the constant flyovers of russian aircraft above Askania. In August 2022, during one such flyover, a nilgai antelope panicked and collided with a concrete wall. Environmental laws prohibit flying over reserves due to the stress it causes the animals.

The invaders are even stealing our animals. On December 1, 2023, they took seven animals, including two Przewalski’s horses. We notified the National Academy of Agrarian Sciences of Ukraine, the Ministry of Environmental Protection and Natural Resources, the National Commission for UNESCO, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs through official letters.

The Przewalski’s horse is a species listed under a special appendix to the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora, which russia has also ratified. But whether the terrorist state follows international norms is a rhetorical question.

Only the liberation of Askania-Nova will put a stop to the invaders’ unlawful actions. The only real safeguard against this is the Armed Forces of Ukraine.

Currently, Askania is operating on inertia, surviving solely due to the dedication of the Ukrainian staff with many years of experience.

Yet, I have to give the occupation authorities credit — they’ve become adept at creating an image of “happy life” under the russian flag. The russians have now opened up excursion routes and are claiming it as an achievement. These routes existed long before the occupation administration arrived and even long before I was born — dating back to Friedrich von Falz-Fein (1863–1920) was the founder of Askania-Nova nature reserve complex.Friedrich von Falz-Fein. Only professional propagandists could so skillfully claim others’ accomplishments as their own and parade them as their achievements.

Liberation and Restoration

We are currently in a state of uncertainty. Only after the liberation will we understand exactly what needs to be restored in Askania-Nova.

It’s clear that the invaders will take some animals away, and some will die. But I believe some animals will remain — surviving even through catastrophic circumstances. We will work to restore their populations.

We might face a major demining problem in the reserve. The soil cover is also damaged by craters and trenches. The invaders started digging a trench even in the virgin steppe, but we managed to stop these insane actions. 

We know that trees are being cut down in the arboretum, and certain significant collections have already perished. We will need to restore the infrastructure, the territory, collection funds, and the natural ecosystems.

Through this experience, I can say that I’ve come to fully grasp a deep love and attachment to Askania-Nova, one that only became clear to me when I was deprived of it. I am no different from the hundreds of other enthusiasts working in the nature conservation field. It’s not highly profitable, but for us, it’s a calling. This is work that captures you and demands a natural reverence for nature. It’s a commitment for life.

This publication was compiled with the support of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation within the framework «European Renaissance of Ukraine» project. Its content is the exclusive responsibility of the authors and does not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation.

Main image: Viktor Shapoval. Source: Dim TV channel

Giant mutant rats and two-headed dogs — the legends surrounding Chornobyl are countless. Add to that the eerie vibe of deserted, desolate lands, and it’s no wonder tourists from around the world have flocked here, particularly fans of the S.T.A.L.K.E.R. video game series and viewers of HBO’s miniseries. 

But Chornobyl isn’t about romance; it’s about tragedy. This land suffered deeply under Soviet rule in the 1980s, and now, since 2022, it faces similar harm from its successor, russia. On the very first day of russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, their troops entered the Exclusion Zone, occupying it and the Chornobyl Radiation and Ecological Biosphere Reserve. They dug trenches in the Red Forest, raising radioactive dust with their heavy equipment.

Now, after liberation, Chornobyl is also a militarized zone, as Ukraine’s army works to prevent the occupation from happening again. At the same time, it remains a nature reserve. The head of scientific research at the Chornobyl Reserve and the researcher who authored the book The Terrible, The Beautiful and The Ugly in Chornobyl details the transformation of local nature from the post-disaster era to the wartime period.

After the Disaster, or the Natural Stages of Acceptance

“When the accident occurred at the Chornobyl Nuclear Power Plant in 1986, specialists and military personnel — the so-called liquidators — filled the 30-kilometer zone around it,” says Denys Vyshnevskyi, who has led the Chornobyl Reserve’s scientific department for five years.

He adds that in the first days, efforts focused on reducing radioactive emissions from the damaged reactor and minimizing environmental consequences. 

“Ukrainian zoologists and botanists who began studying the Zone after the disaster developed a timeline of the ecological consequences of the catastrophe. They identified three stages, which we now refer to as shock, reset, and stabilization,” Vyshnevskyi explains.

Shock

The first stage, which lasted a few months, saw the most intense radioactive impact on the environment. 

“During this period, within a 10-square-kilometer forested area around the station — which bore the brunt of radioactive dust emissions following the reactor explosion — the pine trees began to die. Pine is nearly as sensitive to radiation as humans. The needles lost their chlorophyll and turned a rusty red color. This became the Red Forest,” says the scientist.

Reset

Then came the reset phase, which began in the latter half of 1986 and lasted until 1991. Vyshnevskyi describes it as follows: “Certain animals left Chornobyl, typically those dependent on human presence, such as the common pigeon and the house mouse. Some livestock animals perished due to being abandoned. Wild species moved in, replacing them, since they now had more space and less competition. This led to a gradual revival of typical Polissia [natural geographic region] wildlife.”

In some cases, domestic animals turned feral, a phenomenon still observable today. “A unique ecological experiment has unfolded in Lubianka, a village near the former town of Poliske. There, a man who kept cattle passed away, and his cows have now roamed freely for five years, living like wild aurochs along the river’s floodplain,” Vyshnevskyi shares.

Stabilization

By 1991, Chornobyl’s environment had reached a stage of stabilization and gradual recovery, where changes began to follow natural processes again. Vyshnevskyi notes that since then, the Zone’s ecosystem has started to resemble Polissia’s typical landscape.

Radiobiologist Olena Pareniuk recalls that around 2010, the Chornobyl Reserve experienced a surge in wild boar populations. “At that time, protection against them was installed. The animals would break through to the Zone and gnaw everything around them. And then, due to a plague, the number of wild boars decreased dramatically. For some time there were no wolves in the Zone, and then they appeared. It was incredible to see how nature changes and regulates itself.”

However, making conclusive scientific conclusions about how nature has adapted or why remains premature. Radiobiologist Kateryna Shavanova emphasizes that three decades of research are insufficient; at least another thirty years are needed.

In reality, long-term studies have been limited. Pareniuk notes that despite inspirational discussions about Chornobyl being an open-air laboratory, consistent funding, essential for any kind of research, has always been lacking for scientists studying the area.

“Studying wildlife, and especially evolutionary changes in wildlife, requires an experiment. Not a three-day laboratory experiment but an experiment throughout the entire life cycle. No one has ever conducted such research [there] because funding is only available now and then. Such things, however, require consistency. Therefore, unfortunately, no one can say with scientific accuracy how radiation affected the fauna of the Zone. We can only conclude that the animals have adapted,” explains radiobiologist Kateryna Shavanova, though she cautions that even this observation is not scientifically definitive.

In the absence of rigorous science, pseudoscience often takes hold. It plays into myths and rumors, abundant fantasies born of fear and ignorance.

Radiobiologist Kateryna Shavanova says that there are some unscrupulous scientists who have a fairly high citation index. However, the experiments of these scientists from different countries raise many questions: “They study, for example, two pairs of animals but make large-scale and ambitious conclusions. In fact, it’s freak research, which is then used to build conspiracy theories.”

The researcher also adds that in Chornobyl studies, it is crucial to factor in not just radiation but also climate change. 

“Yes, we can observe differences between animals in the Chornobyl Zone and those outside it. But we need to understand where these differences come from — whether they’re due to radiation or other environmental factors,” she explains. 

Olena Pareniuk emphasizes that it is also essential to accept the fact that nature does not always adapt. When animals moved, they were exposed to radiation, and the next generations could no longer be viable. In this case, we will not see adaptation: nature simply wiped someone out.

Chornobyl and War

“Sometimes I want to lament how the war affected Chornobyl. To lament the mining, the fact that the reserve suffered through the fighting… But then I remember how the chalk mountain landscapes in the east are being demolished, and I realize that complaining doesn’t seem ethical,” says Denys Vyshnevskyi.

He explains that although hostilities did harm nature, they did not destroy it. The full extent of the damage is still being assessed. Over the 36 days of occupation, russian forces looted approximately two million hryvnias’ worth of equipment, stole vehicles, and damaged facilities.

Estimating environmental damage from landmines, unexploded munitions, and forest fires is more challenging. In a report on the condition of the Chornobyl Reserve after the beginning of the full-scale invasion, its employees said that russian troops were quite active in the air over the protected area. The noise from planes and helicopters causes stress to wild animals. For example, it was reported that a nilgai antelope died in the Askania Nova reserve as a result of the invaders’ flights over the reserve, causing the exotic animal to crash into the fence of the enclosure.

russian military vehicles also traversed the reserve, and Chornobyl Nuclear Power Plant staff reported russian tanks moving through the Red Forest. Likely due to this, on February 24, 2022, Ukraine’s State Nuclear Regulatory Inspectorate detected a spike in gamma radiation near the plant.

Thus, since the liberation, Chornobyl has become a bizarre fusion of the military and the pristine. Where once there was an industrial-pristine mix, a third aspect has been added. “We visited Chornobyl in May of this year. The area is now well-prepared for defense — trenches, dugouts, mines… On the one hand, that is not what a reserve should be like. On the other hand, because of the strong defenses, the russians will not be able to break through from this direction again,” says Olena Pareniuk.

Still, researchers emphasize the importance of preserving Chornobyl as a conservation area.

“Polissia no longer exists as it once was. The swamps are drying up — climate change is doing its job. At the same time, however, swamps are an important factor that slows down climate change. Chornobyl is the area that is most strongly reminiscent of the authentic Polissia,” Kateryna Shavanova explains.

Moreover, the swamps also hinder enemy movement. Thus, restoring wetlands can enhance the defensive properties of the protected landscape in an environmentally friendly way. At least in this way, the war could have a positive impact on Chornobyl. Currently, it only causes destruction, hinders the development of the reserve, and prevents it from fulfilling its educational and research functions. 

Denys Vyshnevskyi says that the primary goal of the Chornobyl Reserve until 2006 was to overcome the consequences of the disaster. Then came the so-called empty era. Only in 2016, under the leadership of Vitalii Petruk, Director of the State Agency of Ukraine on Exclusion Zone Management, a new concept was proposed for the development of the reserve: not overcoming, but using the territory. In particular, the Exclusion Zone was to become a research site and a place for testing radiation protection technologies.

All of this is about safety, and in this concept, the workers of the reserve identified the development of safety as the main task of the Zone. Back in 2016, they had no idea how right they were.

This publication was compiled with the support of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation within the framework «European Renaissance of Ukraine» project. Its content is the exclusive responsibility of the authors and does not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation.

Main and last images: The Exclusion Zone through the eyes of airborne assault troops. Source: WAR CREW Telegram channel

“On February 22, 2022, we were in the park on an expedition. We had come to study the population of the Red Data Book species, Crocus reticulatus. It was so quiet,” recalls Oleksandr Khodosovtsev, an employee of the Kamianska Sich National Nature Park. “That was the first time we recorded a white-tailed eagle in the park, and by evening, we reached Puhach Cape. Around 4 o’clock, we set off for Kherson. Only 36 hours remained until the full-scale invasion.”

The invaders entered Kamianska Sich on March 9. After nine months, the Ukrainian Armed Forces drove them out of the steppe in the northern Kherson region, but the park remains under threat from russian forces on the left bank of the Dnipro. Enemy drones hover over the area, and combat engineers are clearing mines by the hundreds.

The park also bears the scars of the destruction of the Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Plant dam, as part of the former Kakhovka Reservoir’s water area used to be part of Kamianska Sich.

How has the war altered the landscape, and how does it continue to influence it?  What is happening in this nature park under constant fire? UAnimals Media spoke to the park’s researchers, who initiated its creation — Ivan Moisiyenko and Oleksandr Khodosovtsev. Both are professors at the Department of Botany at Kherson State University.

A Diversity of the Steppes

Most of Ukraine’s steppe reserves are located on the left bank of the Dnipro River and in the south. Kamianska Sich, on the other hand, preserves steppe ecosystems on the right bank in the northern part of the Kherson region. And what a steppe it is!

“This is an area of true, or temperate, steppe,” explains Ivan Moisiyenko. However, it’s not just that. On the south-facing slopes, there are fragments of desert steppe. Its natural zone in Ukraine stretches as a thin strip along the Black Sea. In addition, the park hosts species from the meadow steppes of the forest-steppe zone, such as Stipa tirsa and the European feather grass.

“Desert steppes are located 150 kilometers to the south, while the forest-steppe lies about 200 kilometers to the north. Yet all of these are present in Kamianska Sich! This is truly a unique diversity of steppes,” summarizes Ivan Moisiyenko.

The botanist is also proud of his discovery in the park: “During an expedition, I spotted an unusual grass. It turned out to be Psathyrostachys juncea. This is only the fourth recorded site in Ukraine and the first on the right bank of the Dnipro. Usually, Psathyrostachys juncea is found in the semi-deserts of Kazakhstan.”

Overall, about 500 plant species grow in the park, 10% of which are protected.

Why has the steppe survived here? Parts of it were once used as sheep pastures, so they were never plowed. The broad Mylivska and Kamianska ravines, with their limestone slopes where the Kamianka River once A meander is a curve in the channel of a river.meandered, also remained untouched. Ivan Moisiyenko and Oleksandr Khodosovtsev proposed to the government that this area be designated a protected nature reserve. They had been studying the steppe long before the park was finally officially established in 2019. Ivan recalls, “At first, the steppe seemed just vast. But as we started studying it, we discovered it was also incredibly rich!” And not just plant-wise. 

“That Mole Vole Ruined All Our Excavations!”

“Archaeologists were excavating a Late Scythian settlement. The site was riddled with holes, like Swiss cheese. They asked, ‘What’s been digging around here?’” Ivan Moisiyenko remembers when he was surveying the future park’s territory. The culprit was the endangered northern mole vole. “That mole vole of yours ruined all our excavations!” the archaeologists complained.

Kamianska Sich is home to a large population of mole voles, a small rodent that spends most of its life underground, feeding on the roots of plants. In Ukraine, it is classified as an endangered species.

Another creature that troubles archaeologists is the solifuge, a member of the arachnid family. “This unique species comes to us from the east, from Crimea, and can be found in Kamianska Sich. They look quite terrifying as they scuttle about!” Ivan says. “We had to hide from those solifuges during our expedition in Kazakhstan. They were huge, running around at night. I even saw them in Morocco. And now they’re here in Sich!”

Ivan Moisiyenko first encountered the solifuge in the Kherson region in 2017, and it was, without exaggeration, the meeting of the century. Together with his Polish colleagues, he documented the find in the Ukrainian Entomological Journal. While preparing the academic paper, they unearthed records showing that solifuges were last seen in the Kherson Governorate in 1886-1887. No one had seen them since — until 130 years later when a solifuge was encountered near Kamianska Sich!

The Park After the Invasion

The park was liberated from russian forces on November 10, 2022. On December 1, 2022, Ivan Moisiyenko and Oleksandr Khodosovtsev made their first visit back to the park after its liberation. They were greeted by tons of trash left behind by the invaders.

“We had heard about the ‘love for cleanliness’ of the russian military, but seeing it in person… It was shocking. There was an enormous amount of household waste; about 300 tons were removed from the park,” Oleksandr recounts. Nothing remained of the park’s property — its administrative building was in ruins. During the occupation, the russians took everything: office equipment, vehicles, and boats.

During their first visit, the researchers inspected the steppe slopes of the Mylivska ravine. On their second attempt to access the same area, the military blocked them, as the site had been remotely mined with “butterfly” mines, Oleksandr explains: “It’s still inaccessible because no one has cleared these butterflies.’”

On June 30, the scientists descended to the bottom of the former Kakhovka Reservoir for the first time. “The water had receded more than 10 meters vertically. It was like some kind of Martian landscape,” recalls Oleksandr.

Another remarkable discovery was the reappearance of the Kamianka River, which had existed in this area until 1956 and now flows again through the steppe. In the 18th century, a Cossack fortress called the Kamianska Sich is an administrative and military centre of the Zaporizhian Cossacks.Kamianska Sich, which gave the park its name, stood along its banks.

“Before, we studied nature. I [focused on] lichens while Ivan [studied] plants,” Oleksandr says. “We never thought we’d end up studying the impact of war on the environment. But from our first expedition [after the invasion], that’s exactly what we started doing.”

What Is Impacting the Park’s Ecosystem?

·       ALTERED LANDSCAPE

Explosions in the steppe have left craters—areas of Bombturbation is the disturbance of soil caused by explosions.bombturbation. russian forces also dug trenches and other fortifications on the slopes of the ravines. “The worst part is that a few trenches were dug directly in the untouched, virgin steppe within the protected zone. There aren’t many, but they’re there,” Oleksandr explains.

These fortifications alter the landscape of the flat steppe. Weeds quickly take over these depressions, making it difficult for steppe plants to grow.

“And it’s also a trap for animals. Burrowing animals dig into the trenches, fall in, and can’t get out — both insects and rodents. In Kamianska Sich, even a roe deer fell into a trench and died,” adds Ivan Moisiyenko.

According to park employees, restoring the steppe will require human assistance. Trenches need to be filled in layers: soil on top and limestone on the bottom. Seeds of steppe plants should be sown into the ground. However, this can only be done after complete demining.

·     MINES

“The impact of mining on nature is minimal. In some cases, you could even say it’s positive, mostly for the plant cover, since people can no longer access these areas for illegal activities. It provides temporary extra protection for the reserve,” Oleksandr explains.

However, in mined areas, no field research or monitoring can be conducted — only remote observations are possible. In addition, animals can trigger mines. Mines also cause chemical contamination of the soil that can persist for decades.

The park is being demined by its director, Serhiy Skoryk, along with six volunteer employees who underwent training to become deminers. They carry out the demining work partly on their own and partly in collaboration with the Ukrainian Armed Forces.

As of early September, 639 TM-62 anti-tank mines were discovered and neutralized in the park. The workers handed them over to the National Police of Ukraine’s Tsunami assault regiment, which is part of the separate Liut (Fury) assault brigade. These munitions will be used to liberate the left bank of the Kherson region.

·     FIRES

“Fires that occur once every 5-10 years can even benefit the steppe, but frequent fires are harmful,” says Ivan. “Grassy plants generally aren’t affected by the fires; they have underground bulbs that allow them to regenerate the following year. However, shrubs suffer because their regenerative buds are located above the ground.”

According to the scientist, fires don’t cause catastrophic damage to the steppe itself. However, the frequency of fires has exceeded the “safe” limit. The area is constantly burning due to artillery fire or explosives from drones. While the park recorded only three fires in 2021, there were 26 in 2022, 34 in 2023, and more than 30 already in 2024, with the total expected to surpass 50 by the end of the year.

Oleksandr says that fire and heat affect different elements of the Lithophytes are plants that can grow on stones without soil cover. biotopes in various ways. He studies lichens: “If lichens are exposed to thermal radiation from an explosion in the early morning when everything is moist, they will die. We studied one such explosion site and found that within a 100-meter radius of the epicenter, the trees were alive, but the lichens on them had perished.”

On the other hand, lichens that grow on limestone are incredibly resilient. “We examined a crater in the rocky steppe after a Grad [rocket] hit and just a meter from the explosion’s epicenter, we found live lichens on the stones,” Oleksandr explains.

·    DAM DESTRUCTION

“In any case, the biggest impact on the park’s ecosystems came from the destruction of the [Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Plant] dam,” Oleksandr Khodosovtsev asserts. The landscape has since changed, and scientists now face the question: what will become of this territory? It was a disaster for aquatic ecosystems, which have simply disappeared. “However, the recovery of terrestrial ecosystems on the former Kakhovka Reservoir’s bed is happening at a rapid pace,” Oleksandr adds.

Many have heard of the willow thickets that have sprouted from the silt on the former reservoir bed. Even botanists did not expect nature to recover at such a pace. “But the slopes covered in meters-thick layers of dead shells are slow to regrow,” says Ivan Moisiyenko.

In his view, the spread of steppe vegetation to the slopes is being hindered by a strip of willows and reeds that grew along the former shoreline. Still, Ivan is confident that a so-called Lithophytes are plants that can grow on stones without soil cover. lithophytic steppe will eventually form on the shell deposits: “This is an ideal environment for such steppes. There’s no doubt that they will recover; it will just take time. If the war ended, we could launch a project to restore the lithophytic steppe.” This would involve mowing steppe plants and scattering hay with seeds onto the shell deposits. Otherwise, weeds will take hold first, slowing the steppe’s recovery.

In 2024, botanists visited the bed of the former Kakhovka Reservoir in the Zaporizhzhia region. The area was vast: the distance to the left bank was 15 kilometers. According to the researchers, the situation in the natural environment there is similar to that in Kamianska Sich.

It turns out that the willow thickets will soon become a forest. Previously, these thickets were only called a forest metaphorically, as a true forest has different layers. Now, those layers are beginning to form. Ivan explains: “This year, we observed a more complex plant structure and the development of layers. The tallest willows have risen above the herb layer — this is now the shrub layer; bryophytes have appeared, forming the moss-lichen layer. In our classification, plants taller than 5 meters fall into the tree layer. Next year, the tree layer will definitely appear, and a forest will have formed.”

The number of plant species on the former reservoir bed has also increased. During the first expedition, 11 species were recorded. During the second, 69 species were found, and in the third expedition to the Zaporizhzhia region, around 30 more species were discovered. In total, more than 100 species of plants have appeared in the area within a year.

Additionally, a protected species, rye sedge, was found on the former bed for the first time. “This indicates that the plant cover is acquiring conservation value,” says Ivan.

“They Directed Fire at Us”

Near Kamianska Sich, the Dnipro River is 4-5 kilometers wide, with its narrowest point being just 3 kilometers and 300 meters across. “You can see people walking [on the other shore] through binoculars,” says Ivan Moisiyenko. This area is easily reachable by russian drones and artillery, which regularly bombard the park. Despite this, the park’s security service and its director, Serhiy Skoryk, remain on-site, demining the area, monitoring fires, and keeping an eye on the water bodies.

Even in demined areas, research is impossible due to the threat from russian drones. Oleksandr Khodosovtsev recalls an incident in October 2023 when a reconnaissance drone hovered over him: “They directed fire at us. Five minutes after we moved away, they fired three mortar shells at that spot.” FPV drones, which are now frequently used, can be almost undetectable, and there isn’t always enough time to react. “The only defense against them is EW stands for electronic warfare measures that can jam drones.EW, but you can’t stay in a vehicle all the time — you’ll need to step out into nature. To properly document the vegetation on a monitoring plot, you need an hour. In that time, enemy drones will definitely spot you.” As for zoologists, they haven’t even been able to conduct research in the park, as their tasks require significantly more time.

At this point, the researchers are not only focusing on nature but have also begun collecting data on human activity. This includes the memories of park employees—nature protection inspectors — who, during the occupation, assisted the Ukrainian Armed Forces in destroying a significant amount of enemy equipment.

The botanists are also searching for information about the first Ukrainian soldiers who entered Kamianska Sich after its liberation. Oleksandr explains: “We want to learn the names of the fallen Ukrainian heroes who were the first to step onto the park’s steppe slopes and honor their memory. Unfortunately, their vehicle hit a mine, and they all perished.”

Reaching the Old Riverbed

Ivan Moisiyenko and Oleksandr Khodosovtsev are determined to continue their research, and they remain hopeful that, despite current conditions, they will be able to work directly in Kamianska Sich. So far, they have managed to visit the northern edges of two ravines, which were previously inlets of the Kakhovka Reservoir. Now, they aim to reach the Dnipro River’s course.

“I think Ivan Ivanovych [Moisiyenko] and I will experience a new emotional surge when we finally reach the Dnipro’s shore in Kamianska Sich,” says Oleksandr.

The researchers are particularly eager to reach the Dnipro’s original bank, which existed before 1956 and is now once again in its original location. They hope to explore the main riverbed and observe the liberated left bank of the Kherson region from the right side of the Dnipro. 

This publication was compiled with the support of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation within the framework «European Renaissance of Ukraine» project. Its content is the exclusive responsibility of the authors and does not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation.

Budum… Budum… Budum… A white minibus crawls through 300-year-old pine trees. This is the Lithuanian forest in the Hetman National Nature Park. Before it became a protected area, the place was rife with poaching—electrofishing, nets, and 12-gauge hunting rifles.

Later, when the area became a nature reserve, some locals wrote letters to then-President Yanukovych, urging the park to be dissolved. “In a few years, you won’t have anywhere to graze your cows because this land will be privatized, and the fields will be plowed,” the deputy head of the environmental education department recalls telling them. Over time, the locals grew accustomed to the rules. Perhaps, because fines increased tenfold.

Trrr… The head of the Hetman Park’s state protection service stops his car. He needs to inspect the area. He parks at a recreational site with gazebos, tables, and swings. In the past, people from Sumy, Poltava, and Kharkiv would come here to breathe the fresh air. Now, only park staff can enjoy this privilege, as visiting the forests is prohibited. At the beginning of the full-scale war, the park was under russian occupation for nearly a month, and it is potentially contaminated with explosives. While sappers have not yet inspected the area, park scientists have already begun their work.

Nature Adapts

Mykola Hryhorovych points his camera at a fragment in a fallen tree trunk. Nearby, there is a crater from an airstrike that took place back in February 2022. He tilts his head back to observe the tree tops. On one side of the clearing, death has passed through—burned, decayed, dead branches. On the other side, green and living pines. This contrast reveals the wind’s direction on the day of the raid—northern, as the southern side of the trees suffered the most.

Mykola Hryhorovych is the newly appointed head of the park’s research department. Previously, he taught at the Sumy National Agricultural University’s ecology department and brought students here to study the species composition of plants. Now, he and his colleague, entomologist Oleksandr Volodymyrovych, are examining a crater left by a shell.

He scrapes the soil and puts samples into small jars. These are samples for monitoring, which will show the impact of the war on nature. However, it’s too early to draw conclusions now, as changes in the soil might only appear over time. In 20-30 years, a full atomic spectral analysis will be conducted to understand which elements migrate from the soil to the plants.

But now a brief inspection reveals that the plants are determined to overcome difficulties and changes. Birch and pine trees are already regenerating. Perhaps they were growing here before the shelling, and the explosion failed to completely destroy their roots. Or maybe a bird dropped a cone, leading to the growth of new trees. Moss, the first “settler,” is also taking root here. This change in the ecosystem is known as succession. Sometimes, its manifestations can be quite unpredictable.

“How did a marsh species end up here?” Mykola Hryhorovych wonders as he examines a reed stalk and narrowleaf cattail inside the crater. “Maybe the rains helped… but I don’t think there’s been been much rainfall.”

Mykola Hryhorovych calls Oleksandr Volodymyrovych for help. The entomologist dismisses it, saying that it is just moisture that had accumulated. After all, an entomologist is more interested in insects. He pokes the soil with a stick and notices wasp burrows. Striped insects burrow into the sandy slopes, where they breed. With each new crater from a shell, the population of wasps and bees increases. 

There is even a tarantula burrow in one of the craters. But it is not just insects that inhabit these war-created apartments.

Mykola Hryhorovych kneels in another crater and peers into a black hole under charred branches. A fox has made its home here and recently gave birth to a litter. A few meters away, there should be another hole through which the animals can escape in emergencies. He looks out of the crater, scanning the surroundings, but can’t find the emergency exit. He sets off to search, overcoming obstacles—fallen and broken trees—but doesn’t find the desired passage. The foxes have hidden their escape route well, away from prying eyes.

Instead, Mykola Hryhorovych notices something else. Near the charred tree stump that was at the center of the explosion, crustose lichens are appearing. The farther from the explosion site, the more visible these plants become. This, he says, is a good sign—the air is becoming cleaner. In fact, there is an entire branch of science that evaluates environmental conditions based on crustose lichens—Lichenoindication . But there aren’t enough hands to engage in this work here, another consequence of the war.

How the Big is Captivated by the Small

“Look at the beautiful admiral flying!” — Oleksandr Volodymyrovych spotted a butterfly.

A man nearly two meters [~6.7 feet] tall studies small insects. Oleksandr Volodymyrovych has been working as an entomologist at Hetman Park for seven years. Together with his colleagues, he observed that three years before the full-scale invasion, butterflies migrated from Crimea to the forest-steppe here. The entomologist believes that global warming likely played a role.

Research on insects in the park also led to the discovery of new species. In 2014, a unique species of leaf-miner flies was found here—Ophiomyia adunca Guglya, named in honor of Kharkiv scientist Yuliya Guglya.

So, as soon as the city of Trostianets was liberated, Oleksandr Volodymyrovych hurried back to the fields—hoping there were new discoveries waiting to be made. He wrote to the military administration, asking for permission to use lights during nighttime research. He explained that it was necessary to monitor the insect population. Of course, one could chase insects with a net instead of using light, but Oleksandr Volodymyrovych wasn’t quite in shape for that anymore.

The military hesitated for a long time, as active fighting had ended only two months earlier. Eventually, they granted permission, chose a safe spot, and left the researchers for the whole night. That night, the forest near the village of Zhuravne was quiet, save for the buzzing of insects. They flocked to the lamp, and the scientist described every species he saw.

Before the war, there were five such expeditions a year, but now, a single one is considered a blessing. Many scientists have joined the military, and some are reluctant to venture into the field due to safety concerns. They say that even in the most remote areas of the park, near Poltava, there could still be explosives.

Saved by Ancient Oak Trees

Today, some former employees who now serve in the Armed Forces of Ukraine visited the park. Among them was Oleksandr, who had been steadily climbing the career ladder since 2013 and, just before the full-scale war, held the position of a leading wildlife protection engineer. He used to catch poachers and conduct raids. But after February 24, 2022, his duties changed: instead of chasing poachers, he now had to chase russians through the forest.

In the first days of the full-scale invasion, Oleksandr evacuated his family to Poltava and returned to defend his home. He called his friends to meet and head into the city together. Trostianets had already been occupied, so the only way to get there was via forest paths not even locals always knew.

It was on these paths that Oleksandr and his friends encountered soldiers from the Kholodnyi Yar 93rd Brigade. They introduced themselves and agreed to show the brigade every passage into the city and the locations of the russians. They lived together in the ravines, planning surprise attacks on the invaders. However, the generals repeatedly postponed the assault.

During the day, the temperature hovered around 0°C [32°F], but at night, it dropped to -17°C [1.4°F]. The soldiers had no sleeping bags, and they couldn’t light fires. They sat freezing under ancient oaks with thick canopies. The russians bombarded them with shells, and many exploded in the branches. In a way, the park protected the soldiers.

Finally, on March 21, the assault began. The russians scattered in all directions, falling into classic hunting ambushes. That day, Oleksandr received seven shrapnel wounds and ended up in a hospital. After a few months, he recovered and fully mobilized into the army. Now, he beams with joy when he talks about shooting down Shahed UAVs at night, “We took down eight today.” 

However, the drones don’t always burn up in the air—they often fall into forests, where they start fires that can smolder for days, or even weeks.

Currently, smoke still rises from the area in Hetman Park where a Shahed drone crashed into the peatlands. Thick soil, fallen trees, and the stench of burning linger. The drone went down about two weeks ago. For the military, the priority is human life, and only after that comes nature. This particular Shahed could have reached its target—who knows what that might have been. Perhaps, an ordinary residential building or yet another hospital.

“The park will recover on its own, and we will help it,” says Oleksandr. “You can plant trees, and in 30 years they’ll grow—but it doesn’t work that way with human life.”

Life Has Changed

Before February 24, 2022, when Oleksandr was not yet a soldier, he often walked his dog in the park. His energetic dog would race through the forest for 40 minutes, rest, and then start running in circles again. Now, such activities are too dangerous. In the spring, after the de-occupation, many animals—foxes, hares, and dogs—were killed by tripwire mines. These days, Oleksandr’s dog sees only the confines of his own yard. “I don’t know where to walk my dog in Trostianets,” says the soldier. “The dog’s going to go mad in that kennel.”

The war has also affected the lives of wild animals—both birds and large mammals. Some have been forced to migrate to quieter areas, while others flee from the explosions even into human hands.

After the occupation, wolf tracks were spotted on the outskirts of Trostianets. Oleksandr suggests that the wolves likely migrated from the russian border or the Donetsk region, where intense fighting is currently raging. Previously, wolves were just occasional visitors to Hetman Park—passing through maybe once every two years.

Even on duty, the soldier has seen wild animals: several herds of wild boars ventured onto a mine-laden field. His colleague Maksym, who worked in the park’s tourism and ecology department before being mobilized, shared a story about encountering a lynx. He was stationed in the Chernihiv region with his brothers-in-arms, digging trenches, when suddenly a lynx strolled into their position and arrogantly laid down on a bench. The soldiers were scared, “Commander, should we shoot it? What if it jumps on one’s head—scary stuff.” Maksym wouldn’t allow it. The lynx thanked them for their humane decision by not harming either him or his subordinates. That was the end of the encounter.

“Animals are getting used to the explosions and are more at ease than before the war,” says Maksym. “This is because there are no poachers or hunters now.”

Nature adapts, despite everything, as long as it’s left in peace.

The head of the park’s protection service pulls out a gondola—or rather, an inflatable boat—and sets off on an inspection tour along the Vorskla River. The river has shallowed this year, and only the fry are racing about. Driftwood, submerged yesterday, now fascinates with its shapes on dry land. Still, some remain underwater. The somber man pushes through the trees and thorny branches, finally emerging into the “open sea.” The Vorskla remains silent and resting. It feels as though peace is possible, and life is slowly returning here. The nearest frontline is less than 100 kilometers [~62 miles] from Hetman Park.

This publication was compiled with the support of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation within the framework «European Renaissance of Ukraine» project. Its content is the exclusive responsibility of the authors and does not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation.

At least $600 billion is the estimated cost of damage to Ukraine’s protected areas and biodiversity caused by russia’s invasion, according to the Ministry of Environmental Protection and Natural Resources. However, the real loss far exceeds monetary value. It includes countless dead animals, devastated ecosystems, and stolen beloved places—places dear to each and every Ukrainian.

In this article, Ukrainian opinion leaders share their favorite places, which, because of russia, we have either lost or are losing right now.

Sasha Tab’s Crimea

“At Cape Aya near Sevastopol, I first saw bioluminescent plankton. We swam at night, and I couldn’t believe my eyes—my hands turned into some sort of neon light. These are incredible memories! Sadly, I haven’t seen this magical plankton again,” recalls Sasha Tab, vocalist of the band Kalush Orchestra.

Sasha was fortunate to visit Crimea several times in his youth, traveling to Yalta, Partenit, Koktebel, Hurzuf, Feodosia, and Kaihador (then known as Ordzonikidze).

The damage inflicted on Crimea’s unique nature by russians during the 10-year occupation is hard to assess. However, it’s known that military drills involving missile launches and bomb drops are conducted in the Opuk Nature Reserve. Additionally, illegal sand extraction has flooded about 10 hectares of the Bakalska Spit Regional Landscape Park. 

Many other russian crimes against nature likely remain undocumented, and we may only confront their consequences once Crimea is liberated.

“My best memories are about Crimea,” Sasha Tab says. “The younger guys in my band have never been there. That’s unfortunate. But I hope we’ll still have a chance to see these places.”

Nataliya Zhyzhchenko’s Chornobyl

“The last time I visited Chornobyl was April 26, 2021, at 1:23 a.m.—precisely on the anniversary of the disaster. I was there with the plant workers, and I brought my father. We visited the Shelter Structure and honored the memory of those who perished,” shares ONUKA lead singer Nataliya Zhyzhchenko.

From a young age, Nataliya was familiar with the details of the Chornobyl catastrophe because her father worked as a liquidator at the plant from 1986 to 1988.

“There’s history here, lessons to be learned, and sadly, they are repeating. Chornobyl has always been a source of pain for me, but also inspiration and awe.”

Nataliya has been to the Chornobyl zone about 20 times, doing internships at the power plant, filming documentaries, modeling for Vogue, and composing songs. As she puts it, Chornobyl allowed her to escape people and recharge.

After almost four decades of recovery, nature in the Chornobyl zone is once again under threat, this time from russia’s full-scale invasion. In 2022, Ukraine’s State Nuclear Regulatory Inspectorate recorded elevated gamma radiation levels, likely caused by russian military vehicles stirring up radioactive dust.

“The nature there is unique,” says Nataliya. “The reserve is extraordinary because of the absence of humans and the environmental condition. When I was there, I saw a fox on the streets of Prypiat. I saw a moose and her calves when I stopped the car by the roadside. She looked directly into my eyes, assessed the situation, and simply walked away. Everyone [in the car] held their breath.”

The exclusion zone is home to many animals, including deer, roe deer, wolves, raccoons, wild boars, storks, lynxes, and bears. In total, over 300 species of vertebrates live in the area, 75 of which are listed in Ukraine’s Red Data Book of Ukraine.

“After all the harm humanity has inflicted on this area, it’s hard to imagine how else we could damage it. Nature will overcome this too. It will forgive this too. Unfortunately, but also, in a way, fortunately,” concludes Nataliya.

Anton Ptushkin’s Tuzly Lagoons

Blogger Anton Ptushkin’s memories of the Tuzly Lagoons are quite recent. In August 2022, he began filming a documentary there about animals during the full-scale war.

“We were filming the mass death of dolphins and cetaceans due to russian aggression,” Anton recounts. “I saw dead dolphins with my own eyes, lying on the shore.”

The Tuzly Lagoons, a group of saltwater lagoons [lymans in Ukrainian] in the southern Odesa region, are home to dozens of bird species, including some that are endangered. Despite the grim circumstances, Anton was struck by the beauty of the area. He was particularly amazed by the pelicans, noting he had never seen so many of them before.

This part of the Black Sea is also home to porpoises, one of the smallest cetacean species, including a unique subspecies known as the Azov porpoise [Phocoena phocoena relicta], which inhabits Ukrainian waters.

The natural park has been under enemy fire, with fragments of russian missiles found there. Anton was joined by a prosecutor investigating crimes against Ukraine’s ecosystem, who conducted autopsies on the animals to send samples to Germany and Italy to determine the cause of death.

“The park’s director, who has studied cetaceans for many years, believes that sonars and missile launches caused the mass deaths of dolphins,” Anton adds.

Anhelina Usanova’s Askania-Nova

“When I think of my time at Askania-Nova, I remember its peaceful atmosphere. But now, it’s far from a place of relaxation and connection with nature,” says Miss Eco International 2024 Anhelina Usanova.

She visited the reserve as a child during a nearby camp stay. She recalls reading about Przewalski’s horses and being determined to see them. Though she didn’t spot the horses, she saw many other exotic animals, including Caffra buffaloes, Chapman’s zebras, Père David’s deer, and American bison.

Today, these animals’ lives are in danger. We have previously reported on the fires in Askania-Nova, the largest occurring on August 22 and September 1, 2023. These fires destroyed plants listed in Ukraine’s Green Data Book. Since the start of the war, over 5,500 hectares of the reserve—nearly one-fifth of its territory—have burned.

Askania-Nova’s director, Viktor Shapoval, reported that three Caffra buffaloes died because the occupation administration failed to move them to winter quarters in time. Additionally, endangered species are illegally taken from the reserve to russia and Crimea, often to worse conditions where they lack the freedom they enjoyed in Askania-Nova.

A comprehensive assessment of the impact of russian occupation on the reserve’s ecosystem will only be possible after its liberation. After Ukraine’s victory, Anhelina plans to join a volunteer mission there.

“Our land will need a lot of work to restore everything, especially places as incredible as Askania-Nova. Its value cannot be measured in money, it is simply priceless,” she says.

Olha Martynovska’s Kinburn Spit 

“As a student, we used to vacation in Kobleve and Ochakiv, coastal towns near Mykolaiv. The Kinburn Spit was something like a foreign country for us, something exotic,” recalls Olha Martynovska, judge of the culinary show MasterChef.

One day, she and her classmates went to the spit that so “tenderly and delicately enters the open sea.” 

“After that, I had many foreign countries, islands, peninsulas, oceans, and seas, but this first one was like my first love. It stays forever, and the Kinburn Spit is a place of power for me.”

Now, Kinburn Spit is part of the russian-occupied territory, from which the mainland of Ukraine is regularly shelled. Fires frequently break out on the peninsula, and according to local residents, the invaders prohibit extinguishing them. Anticipating the advance of the Ukrainian Armed Forces, russians have mined the spit, posing a threat to wildlife.

“When Ukraine liberates Kinburn Spit, I’ll go searching for the roe deer and hares I used to see there,” Olha shares her plans.

Polina Uvarova’s Kyianytsia

“I remember how in Kyianytsia, you could hear the birds’ songs so well that we would stop just to listen. Now, alongside the birds, KABs and Shaheds fly,” says travel blogger Polina Uvarova.

Kyianytsia is a small village in the Sumy region, just 30 kilometers from the russian border. Polina and her friends used to love visiting Kyianytsia to enjoy nature and tranquility.

“There’s a stunning architectural monument there—Kyianytsia Palace—and the nature is just incredibly beautiful,” she recalls.

The forest, with its many streams, abundant wildlife, and picturesque lake, is how Polina remembers this place. But now, due to constant shelling, locals no longer travel to Kyianytsia to unwind.

“After the victory, I’d love to return and walk the same paths. I’d look for the springs and stroll by the lake. I’d go to the local store, buy some coffee, sit by the lake with an ice cream, and just soak in the energy of this place,” she says.

Sasha Shabalina’s Dzharylhach

“Dzharylhach is a place that russia has stolen from me,” says comedian Sasha Shabalina. Dzharylhach Island is the largest island in Ukraine and the Black Sea. Sasha visited it in the summer of 2020. “YouTube convinced me to go to Dzharylhach: there were so many videos calling it the ‘Ukrainian Maldives.’ The videos showed crystal-clear water and wild animals.”

Sasha decided to go and was amazed by the natural beauty and the peacefulness of the wildlife. Right after arriving with her friends, they spotted a dolphin playing near the shore.

“There was this feeling that we were guests, and the true hosts—the animals—were nearby, so we had to behave respectfully. For the first time, I saw how people can show respect for both nature and each other.”

Since the beginning of the invasion, the russians have occupied Dzharylhach. Since then, the local ecosystem has been fighting for survival, as the russians are now using the island as a firing range. In August 2023, a fire raged on Dzharylhach for a week in the part of the island home to rare species. Endangered animals such as the steppe viper and the unique empusa fasciata, a type of praying mantis that can mimic a drop of water, were at risk from the flames.

Dzharylhach now faces the threat of being turned from a protected area into an industrial site and resort. In 2023, russian authorities permitted fishing, hunting, logging, and the extraction of clay, salt, oil, and natural gas. They also allowed the construction of hotels and restaurants in the national park. 

Additionally, the invaders built a land bridge between the mainland village of Lazurne and the island to facilitate access for military vehicles. Environmentalist and zoologist Pavlo Holdin explained that this artificial connection posed a threat to the Dzharylhach Bay ecosystem. Fortunately, the sea washed away the land bridge during a powerful storm.

“I think I would have removed that bridge with my own hands. It is ecocide,” Sasha Shabalina says in frustration. “I really want to believe that nature will heal itself. Since learning about the occupation of Dzharylhach, I’ve been dreaming of all the animals rising up to defeat the invaders, just like in the movie Jumanji.”

Cover Photo: Nataliya Zhyzhchenko in the Chornobyl Zone. Source: ONUKA archive and Vogue Ukraine.

Banner Photo: Animal autopsy in the Tuzly Lagoons. Source: Anton Ptushkin’s personal archive.

This publication was compiled with the support of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation within the framework «European Renaissance of Ukraine» project. Its content is the exclusive responsibility of the authors and does not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation.

Russians are digging trenches in unique soils, planting explosives near endangered plants, conducting military drills in bird-nesting areas—they are committing environmental crimes in the Ukrainian nature reserve. Documenting each such incident is crucial to holding the invaders accountable.

Take this quiz to learn more about Ukraine’s protected areas and learn how to be aware and vigilant.

This publication was compiled with the support of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation within the framework «European Renaissance of Ukraine» project. Its content is the exclusive responsibility of the authors and does not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation.

Cover photo: Nyzhniodniprovskyi National Nature Park. Photographer: Oleh Marchuk.

Since 2014, Ukrainian nature reserves have been turned into battlegrounds or ended up under military occupation. For example, russia seized the Kazantyp and Yalta reserves after occupying Crimea. The Holy Mountains National Nature Park, the Donetsk Ridge and Zuyivskyi landscape parks, and parts of the Luhansk Provallia Steppe Nature Reserve were damaged or completely destroyed during the fighting in the Donetsk and Luhansk regions.

With the start of russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, reserves in the Zaporizhzhia and Kherson regions also came under occupation. The occupation authorities there are employing the practices already mastered in Crimea.

Within the framework of the #StopEcocideUkraine project, we discuss the ecocidal actions committed by russians on Ukraine’s occupied nature reserve lands.

THE GOAL IS TO SEIZE NATURAL WEALTH AND USE IT FOR FURTHER MILITARY AGGRESSION

russians exploit Ukraine’s protected areas wherever they can establish even a temporary foothold. They try to make this temporary presence permanent by legalizing their actions, at least within the framework of russian legislation.

Re-registration

After the occupation of Crimea, the russian state register saw an increase in legal entities, including national parks and reserves located on the Crimean peninsula. russians began re-registering them as property of their state. Thus, December 2014 saw the appearance of the Kazantyp Nature Reserve, the Tarkhankut National Nature Park, the Opuk Nature Reserve, and other “state budget institutions”.

However, from 2017 to 2023, the russian legal entities of the Kazantyp, Karadag, Opuk, Tarkhankut, and Karalar reserves were liquidated. No, the russians did not regret their conquest or acknowledge their crimes — they simply decided to centralize the management of protected areas through a single directorate, Zapovednyi Krym (Protected Crimea). This entity was created back in 2020, and its activities include fishing and logging. Thus, what is essentially a scheme with the creation of a parent organization legalized these operations on Ukrainian protected territories.

Another criminal activity concerning animals and a way of making money is carried out by the Karadag Nature Reserve in temporarily occupied Crimea. There, russians created a “science demonstration program” involving dolphins. Every day except Monday, visitors are treated to a “bright and colorful acquaintance with Black Sea bottlenose dolphins” — a rare species listed in Ukraine’s Red Book. Judging by the poster, an institution dedicated to studying and preserving nature instead entertains the public with shows similar to those at Nemo dolphinariums.

During the full-scale war, russians apply their experience of appropriation and destruction to mainland reserves under occupation. For instance, last year, the Ukrainian Dzharylhach National Nature Park (Dzharylhachsky in the russified version) was included in the russian unified state register of legal entities. According to this register, russians have allowed fishing and hunting, logging, and the extraction of clay, salt, oil, and natural gas on the territory of the national park. They also want to turn the protected area into a recreational zone by building hotels and restaurants.

In March 2023, russia also included the state-owned autonomous institution Askania-Nova Biosphere Reserve in its state register. The russians omitted an important part of the reserve’s name — the name of Friedrich von Falz-Fein, who founded it. The occupation administration of the Kherson Region appointed a former employee of the Security Service of Ukraine, Dmytro Meshcheriakov, as the reserve’s director. The National Police has already made him a collaborationism suspect for this.

The same situation occurred in the Azov-Syvash National Nature Park in the Kherson Region. It was re-registered under russian law in February 2023, with Ukrainian citizen Yevheniy Popovchuk appointed as director. Evidently, he harbors political ambitions under the russian occupation regime, as he ran as a candidate from the United russia party in the illegal elections held in Kherson in 2023, becoming a deputy of the so-called Henichesk Municipal District of the Kherson Region.

Military Exploitation

However, re-registration and russian conservation status do not protect the occupied reserves: russians use these lands for military purposes, endangering and deliberately destroying them. 

russians have set up a military training ground in the Pryazovskyi National Nature Park in the Zaporizhzhia Region. There, they conduct mortar fire drills, damaging the reserve landscapes with shelling. Last year, they also actively excavated the Molochna River to create a water barrier in case of a Ukrainian counteroffensive.

According to the Ukrainian Nature Conservation Group, at the beginning of the full-scale war, russians also entrenched themselves in the south of the Donetsk Region, in the Meotyda National Nature Park. This destroyed the nesting sites of wetland birds: the Pallas’s gull, oystercatcher, Dalmatian pelican, and Sandwich tern. Ornithologist Vadym Zhulenko explained that these birds nest only in that location.

The consequences of the occupation of protected areas can already be assessed by the condition of those that have been liberated. For example, after the de-occupation of the Kamianska Sich National Nature Park in the Kherson Region, experts discovered the barbaric method russians used to camouflage their military positions. The invaders tore up rare feather grass species and other plants, which the park was created to protect.

Moreover, let us also take a closer look at the Holy Mountains National Nature Park in the Donetsk Region, which was under occupation from February to autumn 2022. According to its director, Serhiy Pryimachuk, during these months, russians destroyed about 5,000 hectares of forest and removed equipment belonging to the park. The protected area was heavily mined, and mine explosions continue to cause fires.

A similar story unfolded in Dvorichansky National Nature Park, occupied in spring 2022. When the Ukrainian Armed Forces liberated the Kharkiv Region in the autumn, russians had mined the park area, including with anti-personnel mines known as “petals” [PFM-1 anti-personnel land mine]. Demining is not possible at the moment — it can only be done after the fighting is over. The park is too close to the russian border.

METHODS — BURNING PLANTS, STEALING AND SHOOTING ANIMALS

Regional military administrations monitor the condition of occupied biosphere reserves and national nature parks using satellite imagery and maintaining contact with employees who were forced to remain under occupation. They report that these territories suffer most from fires: forests and steppe grasses burn. Consequently, animals suffer from starvation as well as die from mines and shelling. They also get killed by russian poachers and stolen from Ukrainian reserves to russian zoos.

Nature in Flames

According to the Kherson Regional Military Administration, over 5.5 thousand hectares of the Askania-Nova reserve have burned since February 24, 2022—almost one-fifth of its territory. Agricultural landscapes were most affected: arable land, fallow fields, and shelterbelts. The administration explains this by neglect: weeds have grown, which quickly dry out and are susceptible to catching fire.

However, protected zones also suffered from fires, including the “model” fescue-feather-grass steppe of the Black Sea region, the main ecological asset of Askania-Nova. The most significant damage was caused by large fires on August 22 and September 1, 2023. Plants listed in the The Green Data Book of Ukraine is a government document that promotes the protection of entire plant groups.Green Data Book of Ukraine (2009), primarily Ukrainian feather grass [Stipa ucrainica] and downy feather grass [Stipa capillata], were burned. Additionally, during the firefighting on September 1, 2023, russians plowed the virgin steppe in the reserve, damaging the soil.

Partially affected by the fires was the bottom of the Great Chapelsky Hollow [also referred to as the Great Chapelsky Lowland], a wetland of international importance protected by the Ramsar Convention. The entire reserve area is part of Ukraine's Emerald Network is a network of areas of special conservation interest that is part of the Emerald Network of Europe.Ukraine’s Emerald Network.

In 2023, the Dzharylhach National Nature Park experienced 36 fires which burned over 1.5 thousand hectares of protected land. Rare Red Data Book orchids, sawgrass, and other valuable plants used to grow there. Deer, fallow deer, foxes, and gray hares had to flee the fires. The damage to the park is estimated at over 102 billion hryvnias [~2.5 billion US dollars].

From February 2022 to April 2023, over 7 thousand hectares of protected lands in the Lower Dnipro National Nature Park burned. In June, when russia blew up the dam of the Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Station, the park was completely flooded. The damage to the plants cannot be determined since most of the park’s territory remains under military occupation.

In the Mykolaiv Region, the Kinburn Spit, located in the Ivory Coast of Sviatoslav National Nature Park, regularly suffers from fires due to russian military actions. Over the two years of full-scale war, park employees recorded more than 200 fires on the occupied territory. The fire often reignites in the same area, affecting over 6 thousand hectares of the reserve.

The Luhansk Regional Military Administration reported that eight forest fire sites caused by active hostilities in the region have been identified since 2022. These fires have damaged parts of the Kreminna Forests National Nature Park and the Triokhizbenskyi Steppe Reserve branch of the Luhansk Nature Reserve.

After de-occupation, the Holy Mountains National Nature Park in the Donetsk Region still suffers from russian shelling. Constant fires from attacks prevent the forest from recovering. The fires also cause significant damage: on May 7, 2024, over 470 hectares of forest burned, with the State Environmental Inspection estimating the damage at over 2.6 billion hryvnias. This assessment had to be conducted remotely, relying on firefighter reports and geospatial data, as the park’s territory is mined.

Explosives pollute the soil, hindering plant growth and generally negatively impacting flora restoration. “I know from 2014 — when Grads [MLRS] shelled a plot of land in the forestry — that for 8 years, not even grass grew there,” says Serhiy Pryimachuk, director of the Holy Mountains Park, about the war’s consequences for nature.

Animal Deaths and Injuries

On Ukrainian conservation lands under occupation, animals die due to inadequate care and suffer injuries and stress due to hostilities. 

Viktor Shapoval, director of Askania-Nova, reports that many animals in the reserve die from a lack of proper care. For instance, in November 2023, three Cape buffaloes, warmth-loving African animals, died on the territory of the Great Chapelsky Hollow because the occupation administration did not move them to winter quarters in time. Another female buffalo died on the way there.

The Kherson Regional Military Administration estimates the losses to the Askania-Nova reserve from animal deaths and removals at 970 thousand hryvnias [~24,000 US dollars]. This is not the final amount, as the damage continues to be calculated, however, it won’t bring the animals back.

In the occupied part of Zaporizhzhia Oblast, in the Pryazovskyi National Nature Park, russian invaders and local collaborationists engage in fish poaching. According to the park’s director, Dmytro Volovyk, they have placed at least 8 kilometers of fishing nets in the Molochnyi Estuary Hydrological Reserve, collecting up to 5 tons of fish daily.

He also confirms that in the Azov-Syvash National Nature Park, the invaders kill animals “for meat”, “Animals from Biryuchyi [Island] are shot and transported in trucks. I know of an incident where the invaders shot a truckful of hooved animals, with blood dripping from the car trunk.”

There are also reports from occupied parts of the Kherson Region that russian soldiers hunt there. The animal killers do not hide their actions and post photos of their prey on social media. Zoologist Vitaliy Smahol identified a male red deer in these photos. Before the war, herds of these deer used to live in the Askania-Nova reserve and the Azov-Syvash National Nature Park.

Theft of Red Data Book Animals

russians illegally transport animals from Askania-Nova, disguising their actions with a “cooperation agreement,” but these documents are signed not by the legitimate Ukrainian director but by the russian appointee.

In 2023, the National Resistance Center reported that russians were taking animals to the Safari-Park in Krasnodar. The park has a petting zoo, and the animals are kept in enclosures, which are very different conditions from Askania-Nova, where the animals roamed freely.

In December of the same year, the russians illegally exchanged several specimens of Chapman’s zebra, American bison, Przewalski’s horse, and Père David’s deer from Askania-Nova for eland antelopes, domestic yaks, and Bactrian camels from the Rostov Nature Reserve. The species taken from Ukrainian territories are listed in the Red Book and included in the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s Red List with statuses such as Extinct in the Wild, Critically Endangered, and Near Threatened.

russian propaganda media also report “exchanges” between Askania-Nova and the Tayhan Park in Crimea. In the spring, a 15-year-old pregnant Chapman’s zebra and two foals of this species were taken from Ukraine to Crimea. In return, pelicans, dwarf pigs, alpacas, and a Eurasian bustard were taken from the park in the occupied Crimea. Tayhan has a bad reputation even in russia: its director Oleg Zubkov is often accused of animal abuse. He himself states that he has gone through 582 court sessions involving 70 administrative and six criminal cases. Animal rights activists say he is protected by the occupation authorities of the peninsula. They also sent a petition to vladimir putin, citing the Tayhan Park as “a parody of a zoo, an amateur zoo garden without any animal professionals, with daily dangerous situations caused by the reckless actions of the park owner Zubkov.”

Moreover, the same Oleg Zubkov owns another animal abuse facility—the Skazka Zoo. russian Red Data Book animals — Bengal tiger cubs — have already died there. Now, the zoo has signed a criminal agreement with the occupation management of Askania-Nova to obtain Ukrainian Red Data Book animals.

By managing temporarily occupied Ukrainian reserves, russia exploits loopholes in international law. For instance, the Rome Statute still lacks a definition of ecocide as a crime, and the Geneva Convention does not specifically protect reserves and sanctuaries. While there is a 2016 UN General Assembly resolution on the environment that calls on member states to protect the environment during armed conflicts, UN resolutions are not binding, and thus russia has not included environmental protection requirements in its military documents.

Therefore, Ukraine must vigorously advocate for changes in international law that would hold russia accountable for the damage to Ukrainian protected territories and the environment in general.

Cover photo: Kreminna Forests, 2024. Source: Open Forest NGO

Bottom banner photo by Roksolana Baran. Source: Nature Reserve Fund of Ukraine

This publication was compiled with the support of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation within the framework «European Renaissance of Ukraine» project. Its content is the exclusive responsibility of the authors and does not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation.

On June 5, 2023, at 8 p.m., hydrometeorological center workers measured the water level of the Dnipro River at 532 centimeters (209 inches) above the datum level of the Kherson stream gauging station*. 

This was a normal water level for early June.

Approximately six hours later, the invading troops blew up the dam of the Kakhovka Reservoir on the left bank of the Dnipro. Villages and towns downstream began to flood. 

A year after the dam’s destruction, eyewitness accounts have more or less settled into coherent stories. Just ask, and they flow like the water that burst through the destroyed dam. Witnesses recall the flood: they saved themselves and rescued those who were helpless from the muddy water.

June 6

Natalia from Oleshky 

It was half past four in the morning. I heard my son talking to someone on the phone. Then I heard the sound of him running. I realized something had happened. He came rushing in and said, “Mom, they called from Kherson, they say the Kakhovka HPP has been blown up.” My God!

We were at home in Oleshky. My father was 94 years old. He was immobile, so we couldn’t leave. No one believed this could happen. We decided to move to the second floor of a neighbor’s house. They had left in 2022, and we were looking after their dog, a German shepherd named Archik. So we moved everything there, dismantled my father’s bed. We wrapped him in a sheet, and my son carried him like in a sack while I helped him. That’s how we got to the second floor. And the water was coming in at an incredible rate…

Oksana from Kherson

At five in the morning, my son called from Canada, “Mom, what’s happening? We all know about the explosion.”

At first, the water was rising slowly. First, it was ankle-deep, then knee-deep. People were panicking and didn’t want to leave their homes. No one believed the water would reach the rooftops.

8 a.m. — 660 cm (259 inches) above datum level

Hanna from Mykolaiv 

I remember that morning like it was yesterday. I am a fitness coach, and sometimes people call me even in the middle of the night. So, I decided to take a break and turned off my phone. I woke up to a million calls. What’s going on? A volunteer friend from Kherson called, “Hanna, the flooding has started.” We left for Kherson.

Katia from Kyiv 

In the morning, I was told over the phone that the UAnimals evacuation team was leaving for Kherson in 30 minutes. I threw a warm sweater and a bunch of gadgets into my backpack. I forgot my toothbrush, though.

The situation was new, and no one knew how to handle a boat. Even if we got one, what would we do with it? Everyone was so scared.

Alisiya from Kyiv

People immediately started asking if the Kyiv Animal Rescue Group (KARG) would go to evacuate animals from Kherson. Of course, we decided to go. But we needed an extra boat, chemical protection suits, waders. The whole day was a rush and hustle. We finally left in the evening, the car packed to the brim.

3 p.m. — 796 cm (313 inches) above datum level 

Hanna from Mykolaiv

When it all had just begun, we didn’t see the big flood — perhaps a puddle. We were walking around with an animal catcher, leisurely collecting dogs. Then another driver of mine called me, “Get here immediately!! The entire Ostriv is flooded!”

Our eyes were as big as saucers because we had packed the car full of cages with dogs by then. We started heading in that direction — and realized there was nowhere to go! We were literally floating. In front of us, soldiers in a jeep were cutting through the waves, and we were “rowing” along with them.

I prayed the car wouldn’t stall at that moment. As soon as we made it out, the soldiers ran up to us, “Are you volunteers? Take the animals!” So we added a cat, a tomcat, kittens, and a German shepherd. And that’s how we headed to Mykolaiv.

Natalia from Oleshky

We have the Chaika River flowing nearby. People rushed to the shore to see if the water would reach us. When the river started to overflow, they ran back to their homes.

We had two German shepherds with us: our neighbor’s Archik and our Luna. We had to get them to the second floor as well. They didn’t want to go and were scared. While we were getting them up, Archik bit my husband. It was impossible to go through the door; we set up a ladder and passed the dogs through the balcony. They even jumped from the second floor into the water. Oh, the way we caught them! Archik jumped when the water was knee-deep, and my husband and daughter caught him wading through the water. The next day, Luna jumped, and my son caught her already from a boat.

The russians themselves were in shock, running away! People said many of them drowned.

Two russians floated past us on an inflatable mattress, both with rifles. They moored to a fence, one took a puppy from a yard, ripped off half a slate sheet from the roof, and continued paddling with that piece of slate.

The russians had been taking boats from people, not just before the flood but probably two months before it. So, we dragged our boats behind the houses and hid them using greenhouses. We dumped grass and sand and then covered them with rails. From above — with drones flying around like crazy —  it must have looked like a pile of firewood.

And thank God we did that. When the water was above our knees, we dismantled the rubble and prepared the boats. 

7 p.m. — 867 cm (341 inches) above datum level  

By sunset, the water had already covered the fences.

June 7

7 a.m. — 1025 cm (403 inches) above datum level

Katia from Kyiv

We arrived in Kherson with the UAnimals evacuation team. As soon as you step out of the car, you hear powerful explosions. If you’ve come from Kyiv, the contrast is immediately apparent. It seemed like I could hear an explosion every five minutes.

Alisiya from Kyiv

The first animal we rescued was a little mouse clinging to a bush. It was sitting on a twig in the middle of the water; I took it and handed it to a volunteer. The mouse was weak and needed to be nursed back to health.

A temporary animal shelter was specially opened in Kherson for this mission, where several organizations, including ours, brought animals.

The phone was constantly ringing, people were sending addresses and asking for help. We created a rough plan for the day from these addresses, but finding those places was difficult: house numbers were underwater, the navigator was inaccurate… But we did the most rescuing while looking for those addresses. There was barking from somewhere, meowing from another direction, chickens clucking, roosters crowing, and you couldn’t leave anyone behind!

3 p.m. — 1048 cm above datum level 

Hanna from Mykolaiv

We were heading towards Chaikovskoho Street. We waded knee-deep into the water, but then it got too deep to continue. We started collecting dogs, grabbing them, and putting them in carriers. Then some boys ran up, “Help our friend!” A young man around 20 years old with cerebral palsy came out. He was struggling to walk, falling, and getting back up. He had two German shepherds with him. He cried, not wanting to part with them, but his home was flooding. We took the dogs from him, and he promised to come back for them later. The water kept rising, and we retreated further, rescuing animals from the water.

That day, we saved the most famous dog. Do you remember the photo of a German shepherd hugging the leg of its rescuer? We named her Bahira. We were evacuating Bahira from Kherson.

Photographer — Danylo Pavlov / Reporters

Oksana from Kherson

We went into the water up to our necks, hurting our arms and legs. Whenever a cat or dog surfaced, we pulled them out of the water. There were ordinary people, and we didn’t even ask their names. People were dragging their belongings, volunteers were ferrying elderly people, dogs, chickens, and goats on boats.

Rostyslav from Kherson

I took two young women from the Mykolaiv Animal Protection Center — an animal catcher and a veterinarian — in the boat. We started from Naftohavan. You could float above the fences there: the water was over 5 meters deep, with only the attics sticking out.

Hardly anyone was “cruising around” there: the russians were just 400 meters away. We saw a garage for a truck, and next to it, a dog was drowning. It turned out later that its leg had been broken and healed incorrectly, so it couldn’t swim. We grabbed it by the mane, pulled it out, and began to resuscitate it. It didn’t breathe for 15 minutes. The women never gave up. The dog survived.

June 8

7 a.m. — 1060 cm (417 inches) above datum level

Alisiya from Kyiv

We had already filled our carriers with animals and were heading back to the rendezvous point. Suddenly, a rooster crowed. We looked around and saw a lot of chickens in a tree. Misha climbed up to get them, and at that moment, shelling started. The place where we would have reached in a minute was peppered with shrapnel. Thus, it turned out that the rooster saved us.

We found a hiding place for a while. We sat there and saw a boat floating by without people… What had happened there?

Then we continued with the chickens, but there were too many — about 20. There was no room for them in the boat. We found an empty plastic barrel floating in the yard and filled it with chickens. We went back like this: a motorboat, towing a rubber boat, and tied to that, a barrel full of chickens.

It was easy to go out on the water for the first couple of days, but then the shelling started. The police and the military commander began prohibiting it… One would allow it, another would not. We spent a lot of time getting permissions.

Rostyslav from Kherson

We were rescuing animals in Zymivnyk. There were many drowned dogs because people had left them chained up.

In one barn, kittens were floating under the roof. The barn was barred, so they couldn’t get out. We broke the roof and got them out. We named one kitten Jacques-Yves Cousteau, and the other remained nameless.

We also transported a goat named Torpedo by boat. We called her that because she was fast and kept running away from us. She somehow got to the second floor of a house, onto a veranda; we barely managed to catch her.

And then there was such a touching reunion between this goat and her owner! The woman stood beyond a checkpoint, and we brought the goat. She shouted, “Zorya, Zorya!” The goat replied, “Meh-eh-eh!” and ran to her owner, who ran to the goat. Such a reunion!

Hanna from Mykolaiv

The third day was the worst. We were rescuing animals in Naftohavan. They were covered in mazut and dirt, and everything smelled awful.

I was amazed at how our people came together. I had never seen volunteers help each other like this. It was probably the only day in the history of animal protection organizations where they were stealing animals from each other. I barely managed to get a dog out of the water before the carrier with it disappeared. I said, “People, you can’t do this!”

I was wearing summer shorts and a T-shirt, and that’s how I swam. But that day, people from Odesa gave us an expensive yacht, and from then on, we rescued animals on that boat.

We sailed around Ostriv, scraping the bottom against everything: you couldn’t see where you were! We would reach a fence, climb onto it, and then climb onto the roofs. That’s where we caught the animals.

We saved a dog I remember the most. I climbed onto the roof and fell through. My friend Yulia went ahead and said, “Here’s a dog standing on a board in a straight line, its paws bleeding.” The dog wanted to live so much that it stood on that plank for who knows how long.

As soon as we got the dog to shore, a woman took it in and is still happy with it. Imagine, people from shelters were not the only ones waiting on the shore; there were also people taking animals for themselves.

Once, I received an address: 24 Dorofeyeva Str. — 12 dogs, 20 cats. We sailed there, scraping this yacht, and a woman from the window said, “I told you, I won’t go anywhere without my animals!” I consider people who acted like this Anya heroes. We evacuated her with her cats and dogs.

Oksana from Kherson

I posted the first photos on Facebook, and people started reaching out to me. They said they would take the animals. So I started bringing the rescued animals to my garage, my apartment, my son’s apartment, and the apartment of my neighbor who had left. At one point, I had 80 cats at once — wet, dirty, scared. We rescued these cats, let them out, fed them, and went back again. And so it went until nightfall. There wasn’t even time to drink water!

June 9

7 a.m. — 1035 cm (407 inches) above datum level

Natalia from Oleshky

The water started to recede. By 11 a.m., we saw the first step and decided that we wouldn’t get another chance if we didn’t leave before the invaders recovered.

We got into the boat, loaded the dogs. I shouted, “Pray! Pray in any way you can!”

As we passed our house (crying), we could only see the roof. It was very painful.

We reached the river, and there… It was like an ocean! I had never seen so much water before. Believe me, was terrifying.

You could see the entire city of Kherson. Both my son and husband worked as captains, so they knew the area. We reached Dachi. Thankfully, it was our guys, our soldiers, who met us.

Archik, the dog, my father, my son, and my eldest grandson stayed in our boat and were brought separately. We took Luna, our German shepherd, and got into another boat with the soldiers, who brought us to Kherson.

3 p.m. — 1011 cm (398 inches) above datum level  

Katia from Kyiv

We got caught on an electric wire, and our boat started to sink.

Anything could be underwater. If it was an industrial area, there could be a train, and you wouldn’t know.

A man passing by saved us. He said, “I can’t come closer because I’ll get caught, and we’ll both go down to the bottom.” But he still approached and cut the wire. He mentioned that two soldiers had recently been dragged under a barge and died. No one was safe there.

June 11, 3 p.m. — 900 cm (354 inches) above datum level

June 12–18: A week after the explosion

Alisiya from Kyiv

We worked in Kherson for about two weeks. We were wet the entire time. We were constantly in the water; our clothes barely dried overnight. The water was disgusting, full of dead bodies. Then the rains started. You’d come out of the water only to be drenched by the rain. Vadym and Misha would get into their wetsuits in the morning and keep them on until night.

Once, we had to make a choice. Two dogs were sitting on a pile of debris, not coming into contact with anyone. We needed to catch them with a noose, but we only had one. We understood that while catching one dog, the other would escape. We chose the dog missing part of its paw. The other ran off across the boards and debris. The rescued dog is still looking for a home. After the initial hype wave, the interest in these animals faded.

Katia from Kyiv

I decided to make a film from the footage we shot. It was supposed to show only what I saw. I wanted these images not to be forgotten. I think few people can imagine what really happened there.

When I arrived in Kherson, I realized how hard it was to live there. It looked like hell, honestly. In such conditions, you revert to basic needs: where to get water, food… And people are united around one goal — survival.

Some people stay in Kherson to feed stray animals. I know an old woman, Tetiana. She says, “The animals wait for me every day at two. And I must go feed them.”

June 20. When the Water Receded

3 p.m. — 560 cm (220 inches) above datum level 

From the Hydrometeorological Center report: as of June 23, the water level has stabilized at values characteristic of the Dnipro River’s hydrologic regime.

Oksana from Kherson

When the water receded, everything was in a terrible condition. The stench was unbearable! Many animals had died. People were carrying everything out of their apartments; there were heaps of trash everywhere. All those refrigerators, washing machines — everything was ruined and useless. On top of that, there was shelling. The heat was unbearable, and we were delivering humanitarian aid and animal feed in bulletproof vests.

Natalia from Oleshky

We kept the neighbor’s German shepherd until volunteers sent Archik to Poland to his owner. We also had to give away Luna because we had to move to an apartment in Mykolaiv. We didn’t leave until we found her a place. She now lives in the Mykolaiv region with a man who has a house and garden. He sends us videos showing how she’s doing.

Hanna from Mykolaiv

For me, Bahira symbolizes this tragedy. My friend Liudmila Melnykova from the Moyi Zhyvi Sobaky (My Living Dogs) Odesa shelter took care of her for a long time. Bahira was not young and had to spend two days in the water. She could barely walk. We hired a rehabilitation professional who worked with her daily.

She couldn’t tolerate other dogs or cats. She only loved people. It was tough to find her a home. We searched for a year—a whole year! The whole world knew about her; everyone asked, but no one took her.

Only in February did I take her to the parents of a friend. She doesn’t leave her owner’s side now. She just loves people so much.

Oksana from Kherson

I kept several cats; I couldn’t part with them. Now, I have nine cats. And 28 outside. I know all of them!

They come every morning. I feed both cats and dogs. Every evening, I cook two 5-liter pots of porridge. I give one to my neighbor, Aunt Tania. She distributes food to the animals but is afraid of the shelling; she always asks if there’s an alert or if it’s over. I say, “All clear,” — and she is already running with those buckets.

Oksana looks into a cage with a kitten

Natalia from Oleshky

People usually sympathize, but some say, “Well, we were also under shelling, so what?” The scariest thing was hearing people cry, “Help!” at night — almost the whole night. Even talking about it now gives me chills.

This has become a part of us.

***

Told by: 

Hanna Kurkurina — powerlifter, athlete, animal rescue volunteer, living in Mykolaiv. 

Natalia —  a resident of Oleshky, formerly a telephone operator, now living in Mykolaiv.

Alisiya Polykha — animal rescuer with KARG (Kyiv Animal Rescue Group). Accompanied by Mariya, Mykhailo, and Vadym. 

Rostyslav Kulyk — volunteer with the Strong Because Free organization, owner of a pit bull and three cats from Kherson.

Oksana Synenko — medical worker, volunteer, and animal rights advocate, living in Kherson.

Katia Krokha — documentary filmmaker, videographer for UAnimals, living in Kyiv. 

Interviews by Nataliya Pendiur — 508 cm (200 inches) above the datum level of the Kyiv stream gauging station.

This publication was compiled with the support of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation within the framework «European Renaissance of Ukraine» project. Its content is the exclusive responsibility of the authors and does not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation.

Hydrological levels at the Kherson stream gauging station were provided by the Hydrological Forecast Department of the Ukrainian Hydrometeorological Center.

Main photo: Associated Press. Other photos provided by the interviewees and KARG, unless otherwise stated in the caption to a photo.

Kabachok used to live in Donetsk region. Where exactly is classified as the militarymen found him on a mission. He’s a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig by breed, but more like a dog in his behavior. Out in the field and on the road, he used to live in an empty ammo box. Now, he has a much more sizable home. On his way to the shelter, Kabachok was accompanied by eight soldiers and two journalists.

“He’s completely tame. Eats everything, but we’re watching his diet so he doesn’t gain too much weight. Kabachok should be ‘sportivo’,” says Andrea Cisternino, owner of the Rifugio shelter in Lisovychi.

This svelte Italian in rubber boots used to be a fashion photographer. Now, he has chosen a different mission — taking care of hundreds of animals in northern Kyiv region.

For nearly a decade, Rifugio has been a place for homeless and poorly-treated animals to find a new home. It recently had many new arrivals from Kherson oblast, hotspot towns and villages, and also — pets of soldiers who had to leave for the front lines. Right now, the shelter is housing approximately 500 animals. Nobody knows the exact amount — once the number broke 400, the workers simply lost track. 

NOSE TO THE GRINDSTONE

“At six in the morning I light the wood stove by the kittens and puppies,” tells Natalia from Liubymivka, “while another coworker heats up the one in the kitchen and starts making porridge. Then, I clean up and go help her out. We give the porridge to the dogs, then feed the pigs and clean their enclosures. And the other person goes to wash the dishes, while I go wash the eyes of our kittens. I do whatever other procedures the animals need. After that, we go to clean the dogs’ enclosures. Switch out their water and all that.”

Work continues deep into the evening.

Natalia and her colleague take care of pigs, cats, and dogs. Three other men work with horses, goats, and sheep. The owner also often takes up the pitchfork, but he also has other duties, such as looking for funds to support the shelter. Andrea says, “My main mission is to make sure all of these animals are well-fed.”

FROM ITALY TO LISOVYCHI

Next to the enclosures at the edge of the forest, Andrea also built a photo studio. There’s not much to show right now: the corkboard only has two pictures pinned to it. One of them depicts the dogs Chupi and Bruno, the other — the supermodel Helena Christensen. Both photos were taken by Andrea. In Italy, he took pictures of top models and sportscars. Right here is where he keeps the old and weathered photographer passes for “Formula-1” and various runways.

In 2009, fashion photographer Andrea married Vlada, a Ukrainian, and moved to live with her. By that time he was already involved with animal rights activism, and he was shocked by the scale of dog hunting in Ukraine.

Back then, Kyiv was preparing for UEFA Euro 2012. In order to “clean up the streets”, homeless animals were simply put to death. Andrea says that politicians turned a blind eye to dog hunters — what’s more, the government at the time was directly complicit in animal extermination.

In Kyiv, Andrea got in touch with volunteers who took care of homeless animals. “There was one time I got a call from a volunteer who was taking care of 35 dogs. That day, 20 of them had been brutally killed. And this is just one of dozens of cases that I have documented. Every day, I brought more evidence to Ukrainian politicians, and each time they shrugged and said they knew nothing about it,” says Andrea.

After that, he began publicly protesting animal cruelty in Ukraine. In response, dog hunters published Andrea’s private information on their websites. Since then, the Italian Embassy has assigned him a personal bodyguard.

Andrea and his wife Vlada set one question for themselves: what constructive steps can be taken to rescue homeless dogs? That was when the couple decided to create a shelter — but founding a shelter required massive funding.

What happened next was something straight out of a movie.

On Christmas Eve in Milan, Andrea met a woman who read one of his interviews and asked to meet with him.

“We had coffee together and talked for an hour and a half. Then she asked me if I had any pressing concerns. I said that we had many, but the most important was purchasing land so we wouldn’t get kicked out. She immediately wrote out a check for the required sum. It was a Christmas miracle.”

Rifugio began construction in 2014. At first, Andrea started taking in homeless dogs.

In the very first year, the shelter was struck by a fire. 71 animals died that day. Andrea shows a tattoo on his arm. “Always in my heart.” It’s dedicated to the dogs who passed that day.

The police found no signs of arson, and so no case was opened. But eventually, the culprits came forward of their own accord with an apology. They said they didn’t know what Andrea was doing and why. This apology confirmed Andrea’s suspicion that arson had indeed occurred, but his lawyer convinced him not to sue.

Andrea did not give up because of the tragedy. On the contrary, Rifugio now houses five times as many animals as back in the day and not just dogs. The shelter gets by mainly thanks to Italian sponsors. The shelter also established connections with Ukrainian volunteers. The townspeople, Andrea says, help out as well.

“The locals nowadays see our shelter very differently, all thanks to years of hard work. With our Italian friends, we organized free sterilization days, and people would bring their pets to us. Some of the townsfolk work here, too. If all I used to see before in Ukraine were dog hunters, then now we get daily phone calls asking for help, or people bringing in homeless animals on their own,” Andrea tells us.

And to think that very recently, the shelter had a very real chance of disappearing for good.

40 DAYS OF OCCUPATION

“I was cleaning the stables when I heard two russian fighter jets overhead. One of them started descending. I thought it was going to shoot, and that’d be the end of our shelter. The jet got so low to the ground I could see the pilot,” Andrea says as he describes the spring of 2022.

Later in the afternoon of February 24th, the shelter was abuzz with fighter jets and helicopters. Aircraft battles took place right above the village. Andrea shows us an audio recording of the explosions, “Day and night it was like this, day and night.”

“One of the worst moments happened when we heard that russians were running out of food,” says Andrea. The shelter ran out of food too, on occasion, whether for humans or animals. Even though the staff were making stockpiles a month before the invasion, by the middle of March they had nearly run out.

Andrea lost 12 kilograms and even broke two ribs.

“I was cleaning the stables, slipped, and broke two ribs. Naturally, I couldn’t just go to the russian or chechen soldiers to get patched up. I grit my teeth and waited for Ukrainian soldiers to liberate our territory.”

Natalia lost weight too: she gave part of her rations to the dogs she was taking care of. The shelter staff knew that aid for animals was coming through to Kyiv, but between Lisovychi and the nearest blockpost lay thirty kilometers — a distance nobody could risk braving at the time.

Andrea received offers to evacuate on more than one occasion. Even during the occupation, the Italian embassy insisted he leave the country, even going as far as to develop a plan and receive approval from the military…

“I asked, ‘Will you take everyone — my employees and animals, too?’ They said no, just me. So I stayed with my animals,” tells Andrea.

In total, Andrea spent 40 days in occupation, though he only managed to count that after the fact.

On April 2nd, he says, at a very unusually quiet time he heard a car horn. Strangers were at the shelter. Did the russians climb the fence? One of them shouted in Italian, “Andrea, hello, it’s me!”

“Russian soldiers speaking Italian? Impossibile!” recounts Andrea.

In reality, standing by the gates were the Italian journalist Claudio, translator Tetiana, and a Ukrainian volunteer. Waiting by the fence was a car with supplies — and a Ukrainian flag flying on the roof.

“I thought I was dreaming. Only when Claudio hugged me and I felt the pain, I remembered my broken ribs and understood — this is real.”

MEET THE VIPS

The first large animal at the shelter was a cow by the name of Margo. Now, she also has company in Mikaela. And right next door are two more esteemed signoras.

“Frieda, Frieda, Kapla!” Andrea calls out. Finally, two considerably-sized pigs waddle out of the barn, squinting from the sun. “Oh, buongiorno!”

Above all else, these refined dames love getting mud baths and scratches. The pigs can tell people apart and even respond to pet names.

Aside from domestic pigs, there are also two Vietnamese ones: the already familiar Kabachok and Harry. Though he is Kabachok’s closest relative, their personalities couldn’t be more different. Harry can only be found in the barn, sleeping in the hay. He’s chewing in his sleep, showing off his sizable tusks. Sleeping is his favorite hobby.

“Harry befriended a duck around here,” says Andrea. “Other ducks were bullying her, so she found safety in his company. They sleep and eat together.”

Marcio, Ser, Mina, Mami, Annushka, Roza, and Lola are the sheep community at the shelter. They arrived here from large farms where animals are raised for meat. That’s also how the shelter found their chickens, geese, and ducks.

The goats peek out from the barn. It almost looks like they want to give an interview of their own — and boy, do they have stories to tell. Take Berbek, for example this billy was wandering on his lonesome by the belorussian border when the locals found him and suggested Andrea take him in.

Mary the pony was on her way to a slaughterhouse when Andrea picked her up. Later it was found that Mary was pregnant when she got rescued: she gave birth to Op, and he is no pony at all. The stallion lives in the same enclosure as his mom and is nearly thrice as big as she is.

The racehorse Voron would have similarly ended his career at the slaughterhouse were it not for the shelter’s staff. Thelma and Louise came under Andrea’s care from the mounted police. Another mare by the name of Tatanka used to live in the same pasture with them — she died in 2023 because of a russian rocket that fell next to the shelter. Tatanka’s heart stopped then and there.

“And this one here is from Lisovychi,” Andrea shows us the gray Baron. “He spent his whole life as a workhorse. A woman from the village brought him in because two of her sons enlisted in the army, and she couldn’t take care of him on her own. Careful, he bites! Though… seems like he’s in a good mood today.”

Cats’ apartments

The cats have a separate space from the other animals. Here we can find former strays: some were brought in by Andrea, others by volunteers. As soon as I step in through the door, they cling to me and start purring. Some are trying to climb into my lap, some — onto my shoulders, and all of them are sniffing me curiously all over. You can pick them up by the armfuls, that’s how many there are. 

The feline enclosure is comfortable and fully furnished. People from Lisovychi donated a sofa for the cats specifically. Andrea points to the WC sign: “Our cats can read.”

Outside, Natalia is hard at work. “Cats were trying to drink from the mop bucket, I took it outside,” Andrea says in Italian. “Ah, I had to run to break up the dogs and forgot all about it,” Natalia replies in Ukrainian. “I understand his Italian,” she says. “How? Sometimes through a translator. And then, after a while, you learn to understand each other bit by bit.”

She picks up a stick off the ground and leads me to a completely different world — the world of dogs.

POTAP, DON’T BOTHER BABAIKA!

“Everyone! Quiet down, kids!” Natalia waves the branch around in front of the enclosures.

“You call them ‘kids’?”

“I mean, that’s what they are. Though we call some by their patronymic, too. We’ve got Dina Nikolaievna and Tamara Petrivna.”

The dog enclosure reminds me of a long apartment building, full to the brim with canine residents of all kinds — cheerful and melancholic, friendly and not so much. I can point at any dog here at random and Natalia will know its story from beginning to end:

“I assign them enclosures by personality. Here we have six dogs, and they all get along just fine. We could probably add another calm dog here no problem. When Harold moved in, he was an instant leader. Doesn’t bully anyone, it’s just that he might go around sniffing everyone’s bowls — and only when he’s done, everyone starts eating… And the more aggressive ones, you need to group them up with dogs that have character. They set each other straight. Dina Nikolaievna, shush! Potap, don’t bother Babaika! And this one is Hera. Hera, come here. She’s really smart. Hera, who was making all that noise in the enclosure, hmm? Who did that?”

To feed them all, the workers cook 300 liters of porridge every day. 

“Two of us use mopeds to get around, takes about 40 minutes to feed everyone. And this enclosure we call Verkhovna Rada. Liashko, come here! He’s the most talkative of the bunch. That one’s Poroshenko — the chubby one,” Natalia introduces us to the rest of her dogs. “Behave, I said!” she shouts to the “deputies”.

Many of the dogs here were brought by volunteers from frontline territories. For example, this shepherd from Mariupol was found among ruins by a couple driving out of the city. They just picked it off the road and took it with them.

There are also arrivals from Kherson. Andrea already arranged for four Kherson dogs to be transferred to Italy. Two more are getting ready for their trip.

“We had two dogs come in from Kherson recently,” says Natalia. “They lived in apartments. Enclosures like this were foreign to them. Stasik here… He spent all his time in his dog house, curled up and crying. So we brought him a proper bed and made a little room for him. Two others from Kherson are going to Italy soon. Stasik is already there.”

Later we run into Cefina, an American Staffordshire terrier, who made herself at home in the boiler room. There’s also the playful Lulu and the giant, though no less playful, Lucky. In Rifugio, these dogs are waiting for their masters who are defending Ukraine on the battlefield.

Vuhlyk is a shelter for domestic animals and pets with branches in Kherson, Dnipro and Mykolaiv regions. Its history began in the Lviv region, but a thousand kilometres to the east, the founder of the shelter, Oleksandra Havryliuk-Levytska, found large areas for grazing domestic animals. And also people who were sympathetic and supportive of her work. And a lot of sun.

 Because of the war, Oleksandra and her family had to leave their new home in the Kherson region. They moved by several cars — along with chickens, sick dogs and cats. However, Vuhlyk’s branches in eastern Ukraine are still operating.

Oleksandra Havryliuk-Levytska told UAnimals media how she managed to create a network of centres, resuming the work literally from scratch, how the Kherson shelter lives under occupation, and what lies ahead for Vuhlyk.

About children, animals and sterility 

As a child, I dreamed of a horse and a dog, but my parents did not support the idea of taking care of pets. They cared more about the cleanliness of the house, even to the point of sterility. Now I can understand my parents’ position: the four of us lived in a small apartment in Truskavets, my parents were constantly working, and the pets would have to be taken care of. 

A child cannot take responsibility for caring for animals. Now, I can’t tell my daughter either: “You have a pet — take care of him: clean, cook, walk him.” 

But I believe that any child can benefit from having animals at home. This is confirmed by many studies by the World Health Organisation. Children who grow up with animals have fewer health problems, such as allergies. Their immune system is stronger and their mental health is more stable.

These studies have been published recently — they didn’t exist back in my childhood. Instead, it was believed that everything had to be disinfected for kids, and that any animal brought dirt. I was reminded to wash my hands ten times a day. I had numerous food poisonings because in such sterile conditions the body could not develop immunity to certain pathogens.

However, my child has “eaten” enough dirt. Sometimes she spends half a day hanging out with chickens, hugging and kissing them. She loves chickens.

Physically, my daughter is as healthy as possible. However, she has an autism spectrum disorder, so communication with animals is very useful for her. When the weather is good, we go to shelters, and I let my daughter sit on the horses’ backs. I am against horse riding, but a child weighing 20 kilograms will not harm a physically healthy horse. 

I let my daughter communicate with animals to her heart’s content. These are my dreams that have come true. 

We have about 40 cats — some are blind, some are sick, and some are very old. There is also an old-timer dog, Bobchik. He was already old when we were given him, and more than 10 years have passed since then, so I’m even afraid to think how old he is now. And there is a dog called Babuletka, also very old. She has demodicosis, so we treat and care for her ourselves. 

Most of the rescued cats and dogs live in Vuhlyk, and I only take home those who will not survive in the shelter.

About the first rescued ones — Roger and… Vuhlyk

In my third year at the institute, I was involved in sports. One day, I went to buy a suit for a competition and, on my way, I met a boy in an underpass selling a puppy. It was a pit bull terrier that no one wanted to take because it was born the biggest among his siblings. People were afraid that the dog would grow up to be too aggressive. Of course, I didn’t buy a suit, but gave the money to that guy and took the dog. It was my first dog, Roger.

Because of Roger, I had a lot of conflicts with my parents. They had their plans for my future: they wanted me to go abroad and settle down there. It was hard to do with a dog. So they asked me to give the dog away, to find “other hands” for him. 

Because of that situation, I didn’t talk to my parents for almost a month: when they gave me an ultimatum, I said I wouldn’t betray my pet. We stayed together where we were.

As for the first animal rescue, it was a kitten. I found him more than 15 years ago. Back then, I had just started dating my husband, and one evening we were walking the dogs and heard loud meows. My husband ran to the basement and pulled a small black cat out from under the bricks. We named him Vuhlyk. 

On creating a shelter, conflicts and fire

I have always wanted to save animals, but I’ve also realised what a great responsibility it is. In Truskavets, my husband and I were constantly in conflict with our neighbours because we kept three pit bulls. Although even my parents were joking: “These dogs would rather lick someone senseless rather than bite them.” 

When we started taking in stray animals, we had to move to the village. For this purpose, in 2009, we bought an old, inexpensive house in the village of Brodky and started renovating it.

I thought that on my own rural plot, I would be able to minimise conflicts with people, but it turned out to be not so easy. The villagers had their own ideas about how we should live. And some of the neighbours used to say about us: “When will they burn down?” 

And so, on January 8, 2018, a fire really happened in our house with the rescued animals. At five in the morning, the neighbours from across the street knocked on our door, shouting that our first floor was on fire. We could not rescue our cats from there. But other neighbours helped us to get the horses, pigs and cows out.

For some reason, the rescuers arrived with empty cars. Having no water to extinguish the fire, they first stood and watched it burn. Time was lost. Then they started pumping water from a nearby pond. Although some of the stables on the site were preserved, nothing remained of the house. 

We have no evidence that it was an arson. The police put forward a version of spontaneous combustion due to a short circuit. And I don’t want to think badly of people. 

At that time, I had a six-month-old daughter, and it became an extremely difficult challenge for our family: being left homeless with the baby and all the animals. 

About new shelters, new conflicts, and the value of support

After the fire, a woman from a neighbouring village, Natalia Turuta, helped us a lot. She arranged for other people in Krasiv to sell us the land in instalments. 

At first, there was nothing there: no stables, no water. Just empty land. After the fire, I thought there would be no shelter. I would definitely not be able to revive anything on my own. But Natalia and her husband began to build a fence on that territory, and after a while, we were able to move the animals there. 

The Turutas became administrators of the shelter, continued to care for the animals, and took on organisational tasks. They believed in our project and helped to keep it alive. And when the full-scale invasion began, these caring people went to the front. 

Later, we also started having problems with locals in Krasiv. Although the shelter was located outside the village and could not bother the residents in any way, it somehow did. People complained that the animals were defecating and stinking. By the way, pig farms, where animals are fed for slaughter, are also mostly located close to villages, but for some reason, the stench of their excrements does not bother people.

In our conflicts, it came to a village meeting to evict the shelter from the outskirts of Krasiv. They explained that it was supposedly a recreational area (in fact, it wasn’t).

I started looking for new locations to move the animals to when the locals ran out of legal ways to force the shelter out and started causing harm. For example, someone destroyed the bridge we built on our own to get to the pasture across the river. 

All our branches were formed after we left Krasiv. I realised that I would not be able to resist the pressure. We tried to provide “foster care” for our animals in different parts of Ukraine and looked for other stable housing options for them. The issue of finances was always acute because somewhere the rent was raised.

So, we moved some of the animals from Krasiv to the Mykolaiv centre. It already existed: earlier we were looking for new places to expand, and a friend of ours recommended this location. We do not disturb anyone there, as the neighbouring village is far away.

We took another group of animals from Krasiv to the Dnipro branch, and another one — to the Kherson shelter. Both locations were established that way. 

I would not have opened any other centre if it were not for the opposition to those who wanted to expel us. I can thank these difficulties because they helped Vuhlyk grow. Now, we have three shelters, and we are building the fourth one. Previously, there was a farm in Vasylivka in the Dnipropetrovsk region, but now it is very noisy, and it is often struck with missiles, so this branch has already been relocated to the village of Balivka for two years. 

Here we have good relations with the village council and local residents. They allow us to graze our livestock in different areas, sell at a cheaper price or give us crop residues. Vuhlyk needs more extensive support, but it is very nice to know that we are not harassed. 

Who lives in Vuhlyk

We have a lot of dogs and cats. There are also many horses, cows, and pigs. There are goats, sheep, and even ponies and donkeys, which are much smaller in number because they get into difficult circumstances less often than others. Most of all, we have cows and pigs. 

We take in as many animals as we can afford to keep. There were cases when people simply gave us their domestic animals because they were moving out of their homes. Also, 5 goats rescued from the front line by Azov soldiers (our volunteers took the animals from Kharkiv, where the military had taken them) were admitted to the shelter free of charge.

However, in 99.9% of cases, we buy back domestic animals from their owners. When people are in difficult financial conditions, it is important for them to have this money in their budget. I cannot blame them. 

However, it is difficult to determine a fair price for an animal. When we start raising funds for the redemption of an animal, we have to justify its cost, transportation costs, etc. to our followers. Our organisation is not an animal repurchasing business. When, for example, they put a price of 40,000 hryvnias for a horse, my answer is: “Sorry, we can’t afford it.” The idea of rescue is lost. 

About ahimsa and other principles of shelters for domestic animals 

I know only one shelter in Ukraine that is similar to ours — Rifugio. The rest have a different format: they are engaged in farming, selling milk and cheese. 

There is such a concept as “ahimsa” — harmonious coexistence with a cow. The calf stays with its mother and drinks the milk that was created for it. And a human only shares the milk with the calf, but does not take it away completely. There are shelters with such philosophy in Ukraine, and they rehome many animals.

Our philosophy is different. We want the animals at Vuhlyk to live the life they are meant to live —without being exploited for life. At Vuhlyk, not a single cow gives milk. And only those animals that arrived at the shelter pregnant give birth.

When a cow comes to us after a dairy farm (if the animal is healthy), at the beginning, she goes into heat on schedule: every 21 days. But later on, the sexual cycle does not take place as often as it does on farms. A cow or mare that does not feel males around stops entering regular “heat”. 

To prevent fertilisation, we castrate male animals. However, we do not sterilise female cattle: these operations are extremely complicated and can endanger the health and life of animals. This is not common practice in the West either, as far as I know. 

In Ukraine, I still do not see any large-scale steps on the part of society to save domestic animals in particular. Our subscribers are a limited group of people, and in general, there are very few people willing to save domestic animals. 

People still come to us, asking: “Why do you ask for money to keep animals, why don’t you give the livestock away to people?” 

As for adoption, we do not give animals “to families”, although in our practice there are cases of successful adoptions under an official agreement. However, there were also such situations when new owners “disappeared”. They did not even provide a small photo report documenting what was happening to the animal.

According to the agreement, if a person improperly keeps an animal and does not provide a photo report, he or she undertakes to pay for the transfer of the animal back to the shelter. However, people did not comply with these conditions either: we came and took the animals back at our own expense.

About rehabilitation programmes

Today, even statistically, more and more psychosocial problems are being recorded in children. Therefore, the rehabilitation of children with various disorders is a very, very important and significant part of our lives. 

Before the start of the full-scale war, children came to Vuhlyk not just for excursions — they could interact with the animals, for example, feed them. Such format of communication takes place only if the animals want it.

The main value of Vuhlyk is that animals do not owe anything to anyone. We have horses that want to be petted all the time: they come up, put their backs and butts to you and always ask for attention. And there are those who are like “Hey, don’t touch me.”

Equine-assisted therapy is a delicate science. It should not be like this: put a child on a horse, ride it and goodbye. Hippotherapists must complete courses, obtain diplomas in this area of treatment and be competent and responsible in their attitude to both animals and those being rehabilitated.

About the shelter under occupation and money for rescue

Our Kherson branch is located in the temporarily occupied territory. There is a photo on Instagram with a story I could not keep silent about: the Russian occupiers severely beat a shepherd and shot a cow, after which they cut off her front legs. 

I document all the atrocities committed by Russians against our animals. However, I will be able to talk about most of the cases only after the war is over and that shelter is free. Now I am silent for the safety of the animals. Every day I think and worry about whether they will survive at all.

The territory where the shelter is located was occupied a couple of hours after the full-scale invasion. Cars with animals were shot on the roads, so unfortunately, there were no options to take the animals out. There were other farmers there who wanted to evacuate, but couldn’t. Therefore, I took out in three cars only those animals (weak cats and dogs, chickens) that lived directly in my house in Chornobaivka.

It costs 6.5 thousand euros to take one large animal from the occupied territory through third countries, which is unaffordable for our organisation. I can only pray that all the bad things will pass over the people and the animals we rescued, who are now living in the occupation.

A little more about money 

Vuhlyk would like to become independent. But so far, we have not found a way to make the shelter independent of outside funding.

There are several small volunteer organisations from Japan, U.S. and the UK that are gradually supporting us. We have not yet managed to get any large organisation interested. 

It is difficult for foreigners to feel the importance of our project without being here. Of course, we regularly film and photograph animals, write posts on social media and provide reports on how we spend the money donated. 

In fact, we mostly depend on ordinary people donating one or three dollars to us. I think that the world is changed by ordinary people: they do great things even with a little help. 

I am the only one who deals with communication and attracting new patrons. Resources are limited, and I believe that any work in our project should be paid for, including the work of future marketers or grant managers. 

On personal motivation to save animals and plans for the future

Communicating with animals makes me happy. The most joyful thing for me is to see the result. Looking at the rescued animal and noticing the changes that have taken place. 

We joke at the shelter that we don’t have people riding horses, but horses — people. I am fully committed to my work, I live for the sake of the animals I have rescued. It’s hard, and there are times when I want to give up. Then I go to the shelter, sit down next to the animals, pet them, and my motivation is immediately restored.

When we lived in the Kherson region, it was close to all the branches. At that time, I could constantly communicate with the animals.

Now I am farther away from the shelters. What’s more, the weather is not conducive to travelling, and I cannot always miss my daughter’s rehabilitation classes. But once a month I go to see the animals. I believe that any activity demands full engagement, dedication, and immersion in the work, truly feeling it.

The shelter has had bad and good times. But I think if you keep working on something, it will develop. I really want Vuhlyk to become better so that you can walk into any of our shelters and say: “Wow, how cool everything is here.”  I understand that we are still very far away from this.

Our Mykolaiv branch is exemplary. It has existed for five years, and major repairs have already been done there. And the Dnipro branch has already moved three times, so it is constantly under construction. But we have a vision, so I hope that in a few years, it will become a reality as we dream.

I believe that all animals, without exception, deserve another life, and I really want to give this “another life” to as many animals as possible.

 

The cover photo is from Oleksandra’s personal archive.

Only 22% of apartments for rent in Ukraine are available for people with pets. This was found out by UAnimals and DIM.RIA during a joint study of the residential rental market in September 2023.

Meanwhile, due to the full-scale invasion of russia, internal migration continues in our country. People move from the occupied or frontline regions to safer places with whole families, often leaving their lifetime possessions at home but taking their pet friends with them.

Today’s article is about how they manage to rent housing in Ukraine and what helps in this. We share the stories of internally displaced pet owners and advice from people with experience in the rental market.

“Is it possible to live with the elderly?”: the story of Rudyk and Baghira’s owners from Bakhmut

Natalia Zubar evacuated from Bakhmut with her large family. When it became too loud in the city [ed.: due to shelling], everyone left: she and her husband, her sister with her son, elderly parents, a male cat, and a female cat. The male cat Rudyk is a village boy whom they took as a small kitten, and the female cat Baghira is a black beauty who came to them for a foster home and treatment after a serious injury, but she was never given to anyone. The pets arrived in ordinary bags to the capital itself, where Natalia’s son, Petro, lived and studied. There, the family started looking for a separate home.

“We tried not to get nervous — we didn’t even look at the ad that categorically stated ‘no pets’. But still, there were strange preconceptions. For example, one realtor said that traces of cat urine were visible under ultraviolet light. And if one of my little ones [ed.: pets] ‘messes up’, even if I clean it right away, it won’t be possible to rent out the apartment to anyone afterwards. I just imagined how people who want to rent an apartment walk around with ultraviolet light and look for traces of cats,” says Natalia.

Eventually, the family found a rather spacious three-room apartment – the kind of apartment that is usually described as “in need of repair”. In order to live in more or less comfortable conditions, they really made the repairs. But they still remember the process of looking for housing with a nervous smile. 

“We always asked cautiously: Is it possible to live with the elderly? And with pets? And with a disabled person?” says Natalia, who has been using a wheelchair for many years. “Sometimes the conversation didn’t even end with cats.”

Natalia says that anything can happen. Recently, a parrot flew onto her son’s balcony, which either escaped or was deliberately set free. There was no pet clause in the lease agreement, but the owner of the apartment was moved by the story that the parrot had chosen her apartment on its own and did not demand that he be evicted.

Advice

Antonina Semenova, a homeowner: “Look for different options. In my case, for example, tenants without pets and children consistently ‘killed’ apartments more than ‘a herd of horses with 3 senior kindergarten groups.’ Therefore, if in the future I rent out my apartment in the suburbs of Kyiv again, I will write ‘only with children and/or pets’.”

Kateryna Honchar, a tenant: “For these almost two years, I have changed housing three times. I have two cats. When I searched with the help of realtors, they asked for a deposit of $1,000 for the animals. Those, who did not plan to move but were forced to flee the war, do not always have such ‘extra’ funds. But this is not the only way. In the previous apartment, under the condition of a long lease, our pets were given a trial period of 3 months. They are well-behaved, so everything went well.”

“Oh, do you have cats? No way”: the story of owners of a cat and kittens from Siversk

In April 2022, Yuliia Deineko evacuated from the town of Siversk in the Donetsk region to the village of Horyn in the Ivano-Frankivsk region. And a year later, the family moved to the capital, as the children were enrolled to study there. They also took their big cat family to Kyiv — a mother cat and her newborn kittens.

“We knocked about hostels for a long time, moved and tried to rent housing. It didn’t always work out,” Yuliia recalls. “When we were looking [ed.: for the house], one realtor assured us that we would not find anything with cats. She told us to hand them over to a shelter, and there would be no problems. But I couldn’t do that!”

Yuliia calls those times of looking for a place to live the circles of hell because she was in despair from constant insults, hints about the possibility of getting rid of pets, emphatic refusals and scare stories about the inevitability of damaged wallpaper or destroyed parquet.

“These words are still in my ears: ‘Oh, do you have cats? No way…’,” says the woman. “I think we were lucky: the owner of the apartment was urgently renting it out because she was moving. I was constantly monitoring the announcements, and as soon as a new one appeared, I immediately called. We met, talked and agreed on the cat issue. She has a cat herself, so she treated our pets normally.”

The family rents an apartment on the left bank of Kyiv. They live together with cats that have not damaged anything.

Advice

Olena Vincent, a tenant of housing in Georgia: “In Batumi, there is much more housing than those who want to rent it. In new buildings, there are residents in at most one-third of the apartments. Over the past six months, a lot of people have left Georgia, the high season is far away, and it is not necessarily true that it will be at all. Therefore, the prices are falling, and the owners are happy to find people willing to rent their housing. Half of my friends rent apartments with dogs, two friends — with four cats, and I — with three cats and a dog. And we are talking about more or less new, good apartments. Housing in Soviet conditions [ed.: home improvements] or without appliances is rented out very rarely here.”

Olena Antipova, administrator of the Facebook group for finding housing for tenants with pets: “I would advise you to write as much detail as possible about yourself, your pet and the housing requirements in the ads. Tell where you are from, where you study or work, in which location you are looking for housing and how much you are willing to pay. If possible, add a photo of your pet. I remember one case when an apartment after renovation was rented with a “no pets” condition. A girl with a dog came to watch. After seeing her [ed.: a dog], the landlady agreed. Unfortunately, not everyone is so lucky. Finding housing with pets is very difficult, but possible.”

“We decided to take a puppy”: the story of a doctor and a soldier who travel around the frontline regions with a dog

Daria Volkova is the last doctor who left the semi-surrounded Soledar. She helped people who stayed in their hometown in shelters and basements. She already evacuated wearing a bulletproof vest, which her 13-year-old beloved cat Archie clung to. Daria recalls that this helped her pass the checkpoints quickly: a tired woman with red eyes and a frightened cat around her neck answered all possible questions only with their look.

“We drove to Pokrovsk, where a friend put me in an empty three-room apartment near the railway station, regardless of the cat. Archie survived a month with me in Pokrovsk. And then there were three more happy months with my parents at a rented dacha [ed.: summer house] in Poltava. One night he left and never came back. Perhaps his time had come. This is still my great pain,” says Daria.

Her husband Oleksii joined the Armed Forces of Ukraine. His path is also the path of Daria, who has lived almost along the entire front line over these two years.

“I changed houses every 2-4 months. I remember it like in a kaleidoscope. When I lived in Sloviansk, we decided to get a fox terrier puppy. We were looking for this particular breed because my husband has childhood and teenage unmet needs,” smiles Daria. “And Tobik turned out to be a salvation for both of us — for me, so that I wouldn’t go crazy from everything that was happening around, and for him — a kind of rehabilitation. The dog helps to survive everything. I can’t describe how he waits, meets and loves Oleksii!”

Daria says that renting an apartment with a dog is not easy. Especially considering the fact that it has to be changed often. Now they live in the Kharkiv region.

“It took incredible effort to rent a private house. We deliberately looked for a house with territory in order to let the teenage dog out and train it to use the toilet,” the woman says. “When we settled in, during the inspection of the house and territory, it turned out that only the concrete path to the gate was ‘fixed’ for us, and everything else belonged to the owner, who lived nearby behind the fence. Although the ad promised 3 hundred square metres of land. We had to look for another place to live.”

However, Daria recalls that incredible stories also happened. Once she rented a house on the territory of the manor the size of a recreation centre. The owners, a married couple, loved the dog as their own and allowed him almost everything. Daria remembers this sincere humanity with gratitude.

“I think we did everything we could for our pets. Sometimes I watch ‘dog groups’: people abandon pets and leave forever. Sometimes they leave them on a chain. Perhaps they are afraid, in particular, of these difficulties with finding housing…”

Advice

Olha Kononenko, a friend of a tenant with an animal: “My friend once submitted an ad on social networks on behalf of her cat, and everything worked out. He wrote something like this in the introduction: ‘My name is Dzhanho, and I am a cat. I’m a pretty smart cat as I manage my social media pages by myself. Yep, I know how to do it, and how am I worse than my human roommates who do just that all day long: tap-tap, tap-tap on a laptop keyboard?’. This text was funny, but it contained information that was usually of interest to apartment owners. For example, the cat complained that back in his early childhood he was deprived of the very thing that some people associated with dignity. Therefore, he does not mark the territory and smells only of shampoo. It was creative, original, and it helped.”

Natalia Adamovych, a tenant: “Hiding that there are pets, in my opinion, is not okay at all. The only thing is that it is easier to talk about them already during the meeting. When landlords like a potential tenant in communication, they become more accommodating in some matters.”

Comment from expert

Natalia Birova, Real Estate Management Specialist

For tenants

In our country, it is currently difficult for pet owners to rent housing, so I advise you to offer an increased guarantee payment if possible. In this way it is often possible to convince even those who write in capital letters “NO PETS” in the ad. It’s not just about the money — this way you’ll show a conscious sense of responsibility.

In my memory, no one has ever said: “Yes, my pet can damage something.” But I know such cases when pets that have lived in an apartment for 10 years and have never damaged anything, start to cause damage in new conditions. You should be ready, both morally and financially, to be responsible for the consequences. Even if the owner of the property is pet-friendly and does not demand a double guarantee payment or compensation for damaged property.

You can provide recommendations from your previous place of residence, which is a huge advantage. Sometimes people say that they are ready to invite [ed.: a landlord] to the apartment where they currently live, give the contact details of the current owner and even send videos and photos of the apartment. It works.

In no case should you persuade the owners. It is better for you to look for the right person. Because this violates the equality of relationship: people, feeling that you simply have nowhere to go, often start, as they say, “hoovering”. Even if you are really in a hopeless situation, don’t talk about it. You are not an unfortunate person who out of pity was allowed to live with a pet, but a tenant who pays for a service by mutual agreement.

For landlords (landladies)

I advise you to communicate with future tenants, be interested in their history and assess their adequacy and responsibility. In particular, it is worth learning about people from various sources — from open registers to feedback in groups. From my experience, it is people who damage property much more often than pets. The order in the house will depend on people, not on the pets.

Carefully prepare an agreement, with all the details specified. The agreement should protect both parties — you and the tenants.

Immediately arrange for regular visits at an agreed time. Once every month or two, you should check what is happening with your property, so that it does not turn out to be completely ruined in half a year. Usually, tenants with pets offer you to visit themselves to make sure everything is okay.

Specify mandatory cleaning after eviction. The next tenants may be allergic, and the previous stay of a pet in the apartment should not harm them and your business in general.