“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

Rallies, photo exhibitions, film screenings, installations in European cities and overseas — activists and politicians often raise the issue of ecocide. They draw attention to crimes against the environment and call for the punishment of the perpetrators. However, just punishment requires not only high-profile events and publicity, but also meticulous legal work. 

This is exactly what the team of the Truth Hounds NGO do: they study facts, collect evidence and testimonies, compile legal theories, and thus help law enforcement officers in Ukraine and abroad bring the perpetrators to justice. 

Next, we will talk about the ins and outs of this work: why Ukrainian law enforcement agencies are registering fewer and fewer cases under the ecocide article, whether Ukrainian and international law protects the environment in times of war, and how Ukraine’s ratification of the Rome Statute will help.

The Work of Truth Hounds

— Truth Hounds has been studying environmental damage from hostilities in eastern Ukraine since before the full-scale invasion. Could you tell us about the most serious incidents you documented at that time?

— In the occupied part of the Donetsk region, russians decommissioned mines without proper safety measures. As a result, these inactive mines were filled with water. This is dangerous for several reasons. First, after coal mining, harmful substances settle in the mines. Second, there was information that some mines were used to test underground nuclear explosions. The radioactive materials generated after the explosions and other harmful substances from the mines can seep with the water into different layers of the soil. 

— Have you tried looking for those responsible for this negligence? 

— Our goal was not so much to expose those who planned, organized, and authorized the decommissioning of the mines, but to highlight russia’s treatment of nature in the occupied territories. However, the environmental damage in the war-torn territories, even before the full-scale invasion, is not limited to the coal industry. According to our Training and Strategic Projects Coordinator Maryna Slobodianiuk, potential war crimes include the shelling of the Avdiivka Coke Plant, Lysychansk Oil Refinery, the burning of dead wood in the Luhansk region, and the fire at the Azot Factory. However, all of these cases require not only rigorous investigation, but also long-term monitoring of the environmental impact. After all, it is important to prove that the actions of the russians have caused extensive and lasting damage to the environment.

— Next, let us consider a case where the damage is large-scale and very obvious: the destruction of the Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Plant dam. On the anniversary of the disaster, Truth Hounds released a study proving that the russians were responsible. You called on the International Criminal Court to conduct a thorough investigation of this crime and to expel russia from the bodies of environmental conventions. Did you manage to achieve this?

— Our position was not romantic: we did not expect that the investigation would immediately lead to a response and the exclusion of russia from everywhere. We simply stated our position: it is unacceptable to involve russia in discussions about the future of the world in terms of environmental protection when it treats the environment with such disregard.

It is difficult to say to what extent the bodies of environmental conventions hear and consider these calls. It is important to understand that not all countries understand what is happening in the same way as we and the Western world do. Some either see the world differently, or have limited information, or simply cannot afford to support the position of Western powers without a second thought. So, there are limits to the exclusion of russia from various organizations, even if much has been achieved. I think we are standing somewhere on this threshold, and we should not be expecting russia to be actively excluded any further. At the same time, calls for this must be voiced. 

So far, we have held only a few advocacy events, such as a discussion in The Hague at the Environmental Peacebuilding Association conference. But there are other events coming up — several events with a focus on environmental organizations, including those from the United Nations system. Perhaps this will give more space to share the truth about what happened in Kakhovka. 

Also, the International Criminal Court is definitely looking at this episode and deciding whether to move forward with a full investigation. It depends not only on how serious a crime russia has committed, but also on the prosecutor’s overall strategy.

— Do our law enforcement agencies take into account the information collected by Truth Hounds documenters about this crime?

— Just a few days after the presentation of the report, we received a request from the Specialized Environmental Prosecutor’s Office: they asked us to officially provide them with the report and all the information we had collected, because this is the only way they can take this evidence into account. We provided all the materials. 

However, this is not the only line of our cooperation. We have also organized three workshops at the request of the Specialized Environmental Prosecutor’s Office. We shared the experience gained while writing the report and explained to prosecutors how international law regulates environmental protection and defines crimes against the environment. 

We have also presented our findings in the Kakhovka case to prosecutors from both the Specialized Environmental Prosecutor’s Office and the Department of War. This can help them better prepare for the trial. After all, there are quite a few options for describing the Kakhovka tragedy in legal terms. That description determines what evidence to collect, how to combine it, and the general logic of the assessment to be offered to the court.

Ecocide or Not?

— The destruction of the Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Plant dam is almost a textbook example of ecocide, which is most often mentioned in the media. But the Prosecutor General’s Office also named the occupation of the Chornobyl and Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plants as examples. Why can these actions of the russians be characterized as ecocide? What other crimes would you call ecocide? 

— Not every kind of environmental damage during a war can be considered ecocide. International humanitarian law applies in such circumstances, allowing for the shelling of the territory of another state and environmental damage during such shelling. The only requirement is that the damage must be proportional to the military advantage anticipated. Therefore, only a violation of this requirement can be called a war crime or a war crime and ecocide. 

The Specialized Environmental Prosecutor’s Office of Ukraine is considering a number of such episodes. 

For example, the attack on the Kakhovka dam can be qualified as an attack on a civilian target or a disproportionate attack on a military target, which is a war crime. Due to the environmental consequences of this crime, we can call it ecocide. In this case, we can definitely consider a double classification.

I think the shelling of the Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant can be a similar case. This is an attack on a protected site that can be considered a war crime. Next, we need to look at the damage, be it actual or potential. 

In the case of the Chornobyl power plant, however, it is not so much an attack on the facility itself as its use to shield military operations. Under international humanitarian law, there is an obligation not to locate military facilities near civilian ones. There might be a possibility to consider such actions as a war crime, and if there was damage to the environment, it may be labelled as ecocide as well. 

Another angle that prosecutors focused on was attacks on oil storage facilities and other fuel storage facilities. The environmental damage here is obvious, and at least it falls under the Ukrainian definition of ecocide. However, international humanitarian law considers such facilities to be military rather than civilian. In order to consider attacks on them as a war crime and ecocide, one would have to develop a very sophisticated legal framework. 

The crime of ecocide can also be seen in the management actions of the russians in the occupied territories. If they cause damage to the environment, it can be characterized as ecocide even without being linked to a war crime. Currently, we do not have access to that territory, so information is limited and it is difficult to proceed. But after the liberation, everything is possible. 

— Could the actions of the russians in Askania-Nova and other occupied reserves be called ecocide? For example, the kidnapping of rare animals, their negligent treatment, and fires in the virgin steppe.

— Any definition of ecocide is heavily burdened with value categories and lacks specificity. The Ukrainian definition under the criminal code states that an environmental catastrophe must be caused. There is no definition of an environmental catastrophe in Ukrainian law, so it all depends on how investigators interpret this concept: by encyclopedic definitions or by experts. 

Alternatively, to substantiate ecocide, the concept of “mass destruction of flora or fauna” will be required. It is also not defined, so it needs to be interpreted. Will the removal of a few animals from Askania Nova be a mass elimination of wildlife? Hardly. Is it possible to build an ecocide case against Askania-Nova in general? Perhaps. But to prove that this is an environmental disaster, we need to show its impact on the future.

How Laws Work

— Article 441 of the Criminal Code of Ukraine really lacks specifics about what constitutes ecocide. Some environmental activists and human rights defenders are calling for amendments to this article. Others object, saying that then we will not be able to retroactively punish crimes that russians have already committed in Ukraine. What do you think?

— I am not against changes to the article. It can be improved and harmonized with the international definition of ecocide, which is important for promoting its criminalization. I do not see any major risks that the amendments to the article will affect previous investigations. The old law will still be applied to previous episodes. 

— The Prosecutor General’s Office provides the following statistics on Article 441: 16 cases were opened in 2022, and seven in 2023. All of them are still under pre-trial investigation. In 2024, no cases were opened at all. Why do you think the figures are on the decline? It would seem that more and more testimonies and evidence should have surfaced.

— For me, this is an indication that the system is recovering. Prosecutors are becoming more aware of how difficult it is to prosecute environmental damage. They are carefully allocating resources to cases with real chances of achieving results in line with international standards, avoiding the pursuit of the number of registrations. 

— What is even more confusing about these figures is that the Prosecutor General’s Office has only been investigating ecocide crimes since February 2022. But the war began eight years before that. We have already discussed that even back then, russians were committing environmental crimes. Why do you think such cases were not opened earlier? 

— Previously, crimes against the environment were classified under other articles. For example, they used to prosecute for illegal mining. 

However, there is now international interest in criminalizing ecocide. There is no statute of limitations for such crimes, so it is possible to hold russia accountable for damage to the Ukrainian environment if sufficient evidence is found. Difficulties with this arise due to the lack of access to the occupied territories: we have not been in Crimea for more than 10 years. All we have are satellite images and testimonies of those who have left. But I think it is quite possible to accomplish at least some things. As for mining in the Crimean protected areas, it can be considered ecocide.

— Most people say that the main responsibility for the russian ecocide in Ukraine lies with the leadership of the terrorist state. They unleashed the war and issue criminal orders. But can we also bring to justice those russian military personnel who commit environmental crimes? 

— We can, but it depends on two key things: how much these soldiers participated in the illegal actions and what they knew about the consequences. For example, if the perpetrators had been told that the Kakhovka dam [disaster] would be a targeted explosion and that the amount of explosives would destroy only a small part of it, we could not charge them with a war crime. However, our report contains evidence to the contrary. We have a video where russian soldiers talked about the consequences of the dam destruction. 

Similarly, at the Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant, we know of cases where the russian military tortures workers. This is a crime, and they jeopardize the safety of the entire power plant. Artillerymen who direct fire against the plant, especially repeatedly, know exactly where they are aiming. So it is not only the military and political leadership of russia that is responsible for these crimes.

On the Rome Statute and the Criminalization of Ecocide

— Ukraine has recently ratified the Rome Statute. Will we now be able to more actively advocate for the criminalization of ecocide? 

— Ukraine now has a number of options available to it, the key of which is the ability to vote and initiate consideration of issues at the assembly regarding the introduction of ecocide as a fifth international crime. 

We can also better understand internal sentiment: previously, we had only a general idea of which countries supported the criminalization of ecocide, but within the system, the position of each participant is more obvious. Thus, it is possible to more accurately calibrate the approach to raising awareness of this crime in bilateral relations with a particular nation. 

— Do you think other countries are ready to criminalize ecocide? 

— There are definitely governments today that strongly support the criminalization of ecocide. A certain coalition of countries has already been established, but there is no full consensus yet. 

Opponents of criminalization have a number of reservations. In particular, they fear that accusing company executives of ecocide will limit international business and that such accusations will be used politically. Some believe that the four defined crimes are enough to punish environmental offenders. In particular, crimes against humanity cover other inhumane acts, which theoretically may be the acts of ecocide.

Experts and entire nations are working to convince most countries in the world to criminalize ecocide. Because it will protect the environment rather than lead to a global catastrophe.

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: Dmytro Koval. Source: Truth Hounds.

Militaries worldwide emit greenhouse gases that accelerate global warming. russia, with all its emissions caused by war, is accelerating the process even more. Meanwhile, we are no more than four years away from a 1.5°C rise in the global average annual temperature relative to pre-industrial levels.

Can anything still be done?

Olha Chevhaniuk, Head of Strategic Initiatives at UAnimals, talked about this with Lennard de Klerk live on air. We share the highlights of this conversation.  

A Little Green Capitalist

I grew up in a Dutch village with three older brothers. All of us brothers had several nicknames. One of my nicknames was Green Capitalist. Capitalist — because I didn’t mind making money, Green came because I was always concerned about the environment and cleaning up our mess.

My father had a factory. He produced packaging material for flowers, which is very fitting for the Netherlands. As a child during summers, I worked in the factory, and because of that, I became interested in the environment. You know, see all the plastic, you have waste materials… I was often working with a small recycling machine, trying to reuse the plastic materials. It was already a circular economy in the early days.

I started my studies in the early nineties when the Soviet Union fell apart. I realized that we in the West had no clue about what we called the East block, about all these different countries and nations. My parents had a satellite dish and I was playing a lot with it. I managed to get all these TV channels from Hungary, Romania, and the Baltic states. I got sort of interested in the part of Europe I knew nothing about. So, I started working in an engineering and consulting firm, which had its biggest office in Kyiv.

I knew nothing about Ukraine. I’m ashamed to say it now, but like many of us, I thought it was “sort of russia, but a little bit different.” I lived there for several years, traveled around the country, and learned about its regions and proud history, and I fell a little bit in love with the country. It was 1999-2001 — these were difficult times for Ukraine. The murder of the journalist Georgiy Gongadze happened, Leonid Kuchma was a president, so it was not always going in the right direction, but you could see a country developing so much differently from russia.

To cut a long story short, when I got back to the Netherlands, I started working for the Dutch government and got involved in climate change, helping to reduce emissions of greenhouse gases.

What brought you to research the impact of the war on climate change?

I live in Hungary and run a climate-neutral resort there. When the full-scale invasion started, we were able to house many Ukrainians who were on their way to Europe so that they could recover from the week in a car. I thought, what can I do besides helping refugees?

Since climate change is my expertise, I started thinking about what russian aggression does to the climate. When I started to work on this topic, I told friends and colleagues, and we realized that this was never done before — to look at the impact of conflict on climate.

The impact of this war is mostly on Ukraine’s territory. However, it also increases greenhouse gas emissions and accelerates global warming. I believe that by telling this story, we will also be able to show that russian aggression impacts the world.  

A Reminder about Climate Change

Climate change is caused by the emission of so-called greenhouse gases. Carbon dioxide is the most common greenhouse gas, but we have other gases besides CO2: methane, nitrous oxide, halogenated other gases. There are also gases such as sulphur dioxide, ammonia and black carbon aerosols. They all accumulate in the atmosphere. As a result, they trap the heat of the sun. That is why the average temperature in the world is going up.

In the UN’s Paris Agreement, we agreed to limit this increase in temperature to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels. We cannot stop climate change anymore, it’s too late. But if we limit it to 1.5 degrees above pre-industrial levels, it is more or less manageable.  

If we get to 2 degrees or more, we will not be able to manage it anymore: catastrophic weather events can occur. We will have people on the move, etc. 

We only have 4 years left before the amount of greenhouse gases accumulated in the atmosphere is already enough to raise temperatures by 1.5 degrees.

So, we really have to work very hard to reduce greenhouse gas emissions drastically. But russia, with this war, is doing the opposite — it is causing more emissions. It is basically accelerating the growth of temperature and, therefore, the impact of climate change. 

War in Ukraine and Greenhouse Gases — What’s in Common?

What are the key environmental consequences of this war?

We concluded that the total emissions caused by the war were 175 tons of CO2.

•   It is the same as the Netherlands, with 18 million inhabitants emits in a year. The Netherlands is a highly industrialized country.
•   It is the same as putting 90 million new petrol cars on the road.
•   Or building 260 coal-fired power plant units of 200 MW each.

It is significant. 

Of course, if you look at the total picture of the world’s emissions, it is relatively small. But again — you should understand that we should bring the emissions down, they should ultimately reach zero. But the war is pushing emissions in the opposite direction.

How much of an impact do the burning russian oil depots have on climate?

We looked at different categories of emissions, including energy infrastructure — all the emissions caused by the damage done to power stations. That includes the emissions from oil depots that are put burning not only in russia, but also the oil depots that russians have destroyed in Ukraine. The total impact of energy infrastructure is 10%. But if we look at burning deposits, it’s relatively small. It’s below 1% of the total.

More important is the direct use of the military. All these tanks, all these vehicles use enormous amounts of diesel and kerosene. And that causes tremendous amounts of emissions.

Are more emissions generated in russia since they are at war, increasing manufacturing and energy use?

Yes, in particular in the production of military equipment. They use a lot of steel, and steel is a very carbon-intensive material. We haven’t seen the numbers yet. Every country must report their emission numbers to the UN with a 2-year delay, and russia hasn’t published its report for 2022. But I do expect an increase there.

Where does russia rank in terms of emissions on a global scale?

The first one is China, second is the USA. russia is ranked fifth.

Ukraine is much lower, simply because it’s a smaller country.

If the war doesn’t stop, what changes will we have?

Climate change will continue. It might very well be that these extra emissions caused by russia will not impact Ukraine but will cause flooding in Bangladesh or fire in the Amazon. It’s a global phenomenon. You cannot distinguish who caused what. This is just contributing to the buildup of greenhouse gases. 

The Indirect Impact

Do you feel your studies influence decision-making? 

It’s an eye-opener. As it was an eye-opener for me to see that conflict does so much to climate.

Militaries all around the world emit much CO2, even if there’s no war. Military emissions are about 5% of the world’s total. They train, they practice using military transport…  

russian aggression made all Europe realize that we are not safe—therefore, we have to invest more in defense. Many countries in Europe are increasing military spending and investing more in military equipment. That means military emissions will also go up. With a delay, it will increase emissions worldwide.

I fully understand that climate change is not the biggest problem for Ukraine now. You are fighting to survive as a nation. This story doesn’t hit the headlines in Ukraine; I think it’s normal.

But what you see in Europe, militaries like NATO realize that they contribute a lot to climate change. One of my latest conferences was in June in Oslo, about European defense, where several militaries came together to discuss how they can reduce the environmental impact of what they do. Climate change was one of the main topics. They agree to start working on decarbonization, reducing emissions. So it is getting there.

Another interesting impact of wars is that the war also changed supply lines in the world.

russia closed its airspace above Siberia for Western airplanes. If you fly from London to Tokio, it normally takes 11 hours, but now airlines take completely different routes over Canada, which makes the flight 4 hours longer, meaning more kerosine, more CO2 emissions. We are working on getting more precise numbers of the impact on aviation.

It has parallels with conflicts around the world. For example, houthis are attacking ships in the Red Sea. A lot of marine transport is avoiding the Red Sea; it has to detour Africa, meaning more diesel and more emissions.

After the War

What impact are you expecting from your studies?

The most significant impact would be to hold the russian federation accountable for those emissions. That is a long shot. The legal system works slowly, and it would be particularly for this case. There is no precedent. It will definitely take years. But when it happens, it will show to the world that anyone will be responsible in case of this part of aggression — environmental crime.

A study published in Nature describes the total damage caused by every ton of CO2 emitted to the atmosphere: 185 US dollars. If we consider 175 million tons of CO2, we are talking about damage of almost 33 billion US dollars. This damage will happen somewhere in the world. We don’t know when or where, but it will happen.

That is the compensation we are anticipating from russia.

The idea is that part of the money goes to Ukraine to recover, for example, by replanting the forests that went up on fire because of the shelling. Also, for the reconstruction of buildings, by using less fossil fuels, less steel, but more climate-friendly materials.

The other part should go to the Global South — the developing countries impacted by climate change to improve water management, for example.  

You in Ukraine have such a strong civil society. Once this horrible war is over, reconstruction will be done in a way that is thought-through.

Civil society organizations should be very loud to the government about how to work on it. There will be a lot of money coming from the West to help Ukraine recover, but it is your role as a civil society to make sure this money is well spent.

It will not be easy, but I’m confident you will do it right in a sustainable way. You are tough cookies.

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: Lennard de Klerk. Source: Ministry of Ministry of Environmental Protection and Natural Resources of Ukraine

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.

We meet Leonid Myslyvets, the mayor of Oster, on the banks of the Desna, near the rescue station. He spreads a map of the community over the car hood to show the length of the riverbed—from the village of Bilyky in the north to Krekhaiv in the south, covering over 50 kilometers. Almost every day, rescuers go out on the water here to check if any dead fish have appeared along the shores.

Black Water

Oster lies on the Desna, halfway between Kyiv and Chernihiv. By car, it takes about 1.5 to 2 hours to reach from either city. Just south of the town is the Beremytske Nature Park, where green tourism had been promoted before the full-scale war. However, the russian invasion, followed by russia’s poisoning of the Seym and Desna rivers, significantly reduced the flow of visitors.

The pollution of the Seym in the Sumy region began around August 14, when the first reports of deteriorating water quality emerged. By September, it had reached the Chernihiv region. Social media was flooded with photos and videos showing hundreds, if not thousands, of dead fish along the riverbanks. There were fears that the contaminated water could even reach Kyiv.

From mid-August to mid-September, local authorities and volunteers in the Sumy and Chernihiv regions collected nearly 40 tons of dead fish.

“The poisoned water reached us on September 12. At that time, we set up two small aeration stations along the shore, and from them, we placed tubes into the water—one 40 meters long, the other 70. We punched holes in the tubes, following advice from the department [Desna Basin Water Resources Management],” Leonid explains. “The water is gradually getting oxygenated: our divers went down there and said that fish gather near the oxygen sources to survive.”

We head down to the pier, where we can hear a buzzing sound. These aren’t russian Shahed drones that fly along the Desna at night. Near the water, there are two small pumps, each providing a flow of 400–450 liters [100-120 gallons] per minute. Tubes extend from the pumps into the water, and from the middle of the river, you can see bubbles being carried along by the current.

“The water still isn’t bright and clear enough, but on September 13, let’s say, it was like tar, and there was a dark residue along the banks. Now there’s much less of it. But if the situation worsens, we’ll install more aeration stations—we’ve already arranged with local businesses to add four more of varying capacities,” the mayor of Oster states.

While chatting, we put on life vests brought by Oleksiy, a rescuer. He helps us settle into a boat, starts the engine, and steers us to the middle of the river. We speed upstream. Both banks are empty. Occasionally, a solitary gull soars above the water, or a kite circles high in the sky.

“Fortunately, it didn’t come to a fish die-off in Oster. There’s a key indicator—the level of dissolved oxygen in the water. The normal value is 7 milligrams per cubic decimeter or higher. Ours dropped to 5, and below 4, fish begins to die. Another indicator is chemical oxygen demand, also measured in milligrams per cubic decimeter. The normal level is around 30, but ours reached 50 or more. I know that upstream, it could reach more than 100,” Leonid explains.

A drop in the first indicator and an increase in the second shows that a chemical reaction is consuming oxygen from the water. When fish start dying, they begin to decompose, which also requires oxygen.

“If there’s a fish die-off, they need to be collected quickly. We were prepared for this and are still ready because we read reports of more pollution being dumped into the Seym. The rescue station has six boats and nets to retrieve the dead fish. Even some locals have offered to help. So, I hope we’re ready if it comes to that,” says Leonid.

We approach the boundary of the community along the river. No dead fish are visible along the shores. Currently, in Oster and throughout the Desna and Seym, there is a ban on using the water for any purpose, swimming or fishing. But this doesn’t stop the locals. As we moved upstream, we saw several fishermen: one casting from a boat and two others from the shore. When they noticed us, they pretended they were just relaxing and that the rods and reels weren’t theirs.

“What can you do about them?” Oleksiy chuckles. “Some people just don’t care about bans. I hope they don’t get poisoned. At least at the market, they try to control the sale of dead fish. But how do you control it on the river? Sure, we go out every day, travel upstream. But we can’t be going back and forth all day,” the rescuer complains.

Oleksiy steers our boat into an old part of the riverbed—the natural course of the Desna. The one we had traveled earlier was dug during Soviet times. The Desna, though navigable, was too winding, so they decided to dig a straighter course. During the fish die-off, the old channel became a refuge.

“The fish sought refuge in the old riverbed, these backwaters, to survive. The water here was cleaner—people noticed that. You won’t see it now, though, because the water quality has improved,” explains Oleksiy, peering into the water. “Oh, beaver dens. I hope we haven’t disturbed them too much because beavers are the real masters here,” he adds as we turn back into the newer river channel.

On our way back, we spot tourists with a tent on one of the banks. Leonid remarks that these are the first he’s seen since the river pollution began. Before the full-scale war, up to 300-500 cars would pass through Beremytske Park, that is, its parking lot, every day.

“Usually, from late May to October, people would come to the Desna for camping. In the Oster area alone, there could be as many as 5,000 visitors during the season. Now, the shore is empty. As soon as the news of river contamination broke, people stopped coming,” Leonid explains.

We dock at the shore. The aeration stations are humming. The rescuers tell us that they keep running even during power outages, thanks to a dedicated generator.

How They Dispose of the Fish

The village of Slabyn, located 60 kilometers from Oster, is part of the neighboring Honcharivka community. We meet with the local elder, Serhiy Kraskov, also near the Desna. He’s currently giving an interview to British journalists.

Even though we’re standing on the steep right bank, the wind still carries the heavy, cloying stench of decay from the water. As soon as we descend, the smell hits us with full force. Dark patches are visible on the water, and along the shore, there are black streaks left by residue. However, there are almost no dead fish on the shore—they were mostly collected the day before. Nevertheless, among the shoreline vegetation, some dead crucian carp can still be seen, and a pike about a meter long lies nearby.

“The banks here are overgrown, so a lot of dead fish got stuck there. On Sunday, September 15, we walked along the shore and pulled them out with nets. We had people from the village council, the cultural center, and the medical outpost helping. There were also a few volunteers with boats—they took care of the opposite shore. That day, we gathered almost one and a half tons,” Serhiy recalls.

Simply discarding or burying the collected fish isn’t an option: the decomposition products could contaminate the soil and groundwater. Therefore, a special burial site is needed—a deep pit lined with concrete wells with a concrete bottom. These burial sites are sealed with a similar concrete cover and placed far from water sources and residential areas.

“In our community, there’s still a burial pit left from Soviet times, but it hasn’t been used since the 1980s. I remember talking about it with Chernihiv [the State Environmental Inspectorate in the Chernihiv region] when the foul water reached them, and they were also gathering dead fish,” says Serhiy.

We head out to see this burial pit. It’s a few dozen kilometers of driving along rough field roads. As the car bounces over the bumps, Serhiy continues talking about the die-off: many large fish perished. The biggest one he saw was a catfish about a meter long. They collected bream, crucian carp, and zander, and the most numerous were pikes.

“I don’t know how all this will recover. If both the large and small fish have died, who will lay the eggs? Unless we artificially restock. Plus, maybe something will come down from the upper Desna, where the poisoned water didn’t reach. But even if that happens, who can guarantee that this won’t happen again in a year or two? russia isn’t going anywhere,” Serhiy says in frustration.

We cross the highway connecting Kyiv and Chernihiv and head into dense wooded plantations between fields. In one of these plantations, we stop and get out. From there, we continue on foot along a packed dirt road leading to a deep pit. The closer we get, the stronger the stench becomes. The pit is about four meters deep, roughly the same width, and about ten meters long. If it weren’t for the two concrete wells, it could easily pass for a dugout for armored vehicles.

“Since September 13, I’ve been dealing with this burial pit. We urgently ordered concrete rings from a local business to line the wells. It turned out that in the forty years since it was last used, the burial pit had completely grown over with trees. There was no access, so we had to cut down some of them. Now, we need to lay an asphalt road here,” says Serhiy.

We approach the wells. One is empty, while the other is nearly full of bags sprinkled with chlorine. Despite the concrete lining, puddles are starting to form at the bottom of the pit—a result of the decomposition of the dead fish. The buzzing of green flies, seemingly thousands of them, is unbearable.

“Since we’re a starostat [an administrative unit headed by a starosta—a village elder], bureaucracy moves slowly here: we can’t make quick payments, especially on a Friday evening. But I’m grateful to the local businessmen who delivered the first three concrete rings already on Saturday. And on Monday, September 16, they brought three more. It was all based on trust—they trusted that we’d pay them later. But we needed to bury the fish immediately,” Serhiy explains.

The community ordered a second well just in case, anticipating a larger die-off. However, by September 17, the number of dead fish had decreased, so it wasn’t needed for now.

The filled well will eventually be sealed with a concrete cover and buried. A fence and warning signs will be placed around the perimeter of the burial site so that locals won’t accidentally unearth it a decade or two from now.

New Pollution Incident

On September 17, Serhiy Zhuk, the head of the Environmental Inspection in the Chernihiv region, told UAnimals media that the situation in the rivers of the Chernihiv region had finally improved: “The fish are no longer dying. I can say this because I personally walked along the banks. We still find dead fish, but these are ones that died 3-5 days ago, surfacing from the bottom or from under the roots. Of course, the Seym and Desna waters are still unsafe for swimming. Almost all life there has perished, and an unpleasant odor persists. However, the levels of oxygen, ammonium, and iron are normalizing.”

The Chernihiv and Sumy regions are still calculating the damages, which are currently estimated to be around 450 million hryvnias.

This environmental crime has clear russian involvement. The Department of Environmental Protection and Natural Resources of the Sumy Regional State Administration believes that wastewater from a sugar factory in the village of Tyotkino, in russia’s Kursk region, entered Ukrainian rivers. This conclusion was drawn after analyzing satellite images: they show that in early August, the wastewater accumulation basin at the factory was full, but by the second half of August (when reports of pollution in Ukrainian rivers emerged), it had emptied. Moreover, laboratory analysis of the water found substances “specific to sugar production.”

This is not the first time that russian activities have polluted Ukrainian rivers with wastewater. Oleksandr Yemets, a research associate at the Seymskiy Regional Landscape Park, recalled that this had happened at least twice before: in 2011, when an accident occurred at the treatment facilities in Kursk, and the dam near Tyotkino deliberately released polluted water into Ukraine, and again this year at the end of May. On those occasions, fish and crustaceans also perished. Each time, the incidents increased the risk of extinction for a unique species of the region, the Desman, which is on the Red List of endangered animals.

Unfortunately, this might not be the last such environmental crime. On September 16, the Ministry of Environmental Protection and Natural Resources reported further deterioration of water quality in the Seym. Samples taken in the village of Manukhivka (about three kilometers from the russian border) indicated a drop in oxygen levels. Once again, russia is the most likely source of this pollution. However, identifying the exact origin and cause of the contamination is difficult due to ongoing hostilities in the Kursk region, which borders Sumy.

As of September 25, polluted water reached Baturyn in the Chernihiv region. The dissolved oxygen level, as mentioned earlier, was less than one—ranging between 0.3 and 0.8 milligrams per cubic decimeter. In the Sumy region, between the villages of Mutyn and Ozarichi, the oxygen in the water was completely depleted. The next day, the situation in the Seym in the Chernihiv region worsened further.

The Ministry of Environmental Protection assures that this pollution incident is not as severe as the one in August, and the rivers should be able to recover more quickly. However, if a fish die-off occurs again, the border communities will once again have to collect the dead fish from the banks.

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.

“It was the end of the day, the sun was setting. Luckily, we were rowing: leisurely paddling along. Suddenly, we saw it sitting there! It was gnawing on something on the water lilies. It noticed us, too — the contact lasted about 5 seconds. Then it immediately dived and hid under the lilies.”

Zoologist Oleksandr Yemets, a researcher at the Seymskiy Regional Landscape Park, has been studying the desman for many years. He has seen it in the wild only once in his life, and he says he was incredibly lucky.

The animal is so rare that all possible conservation documents protect it. In the Red Data Book, it has the status of a relict species at risk of extinction.

Moreover, the desman is very cautious. Upon sensing an intruder, it will dive to the bottom, sealing its snout with special valves. Then, it might even relocate from the area where it was disturbed.

The problem is that in modern conditions, the desman is disturbed everywhere — and in Ukraine, it is almost extinct. The only population of desmans remains in the The Seym is the largest tributary of the Desna. In Ukraine, the river flows in the Sumy and Chernihiv regions.Seym and its two tributaries.

Now, this area has become a battleground: explosions can constantly be heard in the once-quiet backwaters. So, does the desman still live near the Seym, and what do we know about it? We discuss this as part of the #StopEcocideUkraine project.

The Russian Desman — The Oldest Representative of Modern European Fauna

The desman is a small mammal that spends much time in the water. Its lifestyle is similar to that of a muskrat, but by origin, the animals are not closely related. The desman is related to the mole. In the Talpidae family, which includes moles, there is a genus called Desmana. A single species of this genus still survives, the Russian desman, scientific name Desmana moschata. Once, there were many species of desmans, but we know this only from fossil remains.

The oldest remains of these animals, found in Europe, date back to the Miocene. This was an epoch in Earth’s history that began about 23 million years ago and ended about 5 million years ago. The animal world was quite different then. The desman lived alongside the ancestors of horses, rhinos, and immense mastodons. Humans as a species did not yet exist!

Therefore, the desman is a relict animal that has survived into modern fauna from pre-human epochs and is not well adapted to current conditions. It evolved into its present form 20 million years ago and has not changed since. Why change anything? 

It’s just perfect! Its four-sided snout is equipped with skin valves to prevent water from entering when it dives. It can comfortably stay underwater for four minutes. The snout is also convenient for digging in the mud at the bottom in search of food.

The desman’s eyesight is weak but quite sufficient for its lifestyle. It swims in dark thickets and is active at night. 

Its body is small, about 20 centimeters (~8 inches) long, with a similarly long tail covered in scales. At the base, it is round, but towards the end, it becomes flat like a boat keel, which is useful for swimming. The desman has developed webbing between its toes for better swimming. There are also fringes of fur along the edges of its paws that increase the surface area for paddling.

The desman’s toes on its hind legs are arranged quite differently from other mammals, being column-like — one above the other. This is not very convenient for crawling but excellent for paddling. Its fur is thick and silky, allowing it to stay relatively dry and creating an air cushion around it. Is this not perfect for aquatic life?

The desman favors An oxbow lake forms when a wide meander of a river is cut off.oxbow lakes, floodplain lakes, and even settles in river channels. The entrance to its burrow is underwater, but the burrow itself extends into the bank, rising above the water level. A desman family can dig tunnels up to 20 meters long, sometimes on multiple levels, in case the lower floors flood. The burrow is lined with plant matter.

The desman is not picky in terms of food: its diet includes both plants and animals. This includes mollusks, cattails, water lilies, insect larvae, leeches, and in winter, fish. During Soviet times, when desmans were kept in artificial conditions, they even agreed to eat cabbage and potatoes.

A Fragrant Animal

The largest populations of desman live on russian territory in the basins of the Volga, Don, and Ural rivers.

The English name — Russian desman — reflects this fact.  

At the same time, the name of this mammal, used in the Ukrainian scientific community, is not “Russian” but “that of Rus.” This name refers to the medieval Eastern Slavic state Kyivan Rus, which existed on the territory of modern Ukraine, Belarus, and partly russia. Throughout the centuries, variations of its name have been used by those claiming the inheritance of Kyivan Rus. Finally, in the 18th century, russia formally adopted this name. Both adjectives—which refer to the old Slavic state and to the modern country—are often mixed up in russian and even English.

Ironically, while called “Russian” in English, it is precisely the russians who are currently pushing desmans closer to extinction. 

In Latin, however, scent played a significant role. The genus name Desmana was adopted, meaning “musk.” The species name moschata also means “with a musky smell.”

Yes, the desman truly has a scent. Its glands secrete musk, which serves as a chemical signal to attract the opposite sex and lubricate its fur. This substance, whether of animal origin or synthetic, is used in perfumery, as musk is believed to induce arousal.

However, the desman itself is quite reserved in this regard — during the breeding season, it is monogamous! It creates a family and dwells only with its partner.

The Last Sighting of the Desman

In 2009 researchers estimated that about 300–500 desmans remained near the Seym and its tributaries. However, these figures are just an estimate: no thorough studies of the Seym’s desman population have been conducted.

Apart from Ukraine, there are small populations of Russian desmans in russia and western Kazakhstan. Although the desman once lived in the rivers of Western Europe, it is no longer found there. What led to its extinction there?

Hunting, among other factors, played a role. Recorded figures on desman hunting in russia show that 100,000 skins were sold annually before World War I.

The desman began to die out. During Soviet times, efforts were made to restore the population: The animal was caught and kept in artificial conditions, and various rafts made of brushwood and floating nest boxes from logs were even made for them. Then, they were released into rivers. From 1929 to 1940, desmans were also released in Ukraine, but they did not take root anywhere.

In Ukraine, the desman lived in the Dnipro River but went extinct in the 1930s.

It also lived in the Siverskyi Donets and its tributaries. The rare animal had a protected status as far back as 1928: in the Luhansk region, a “
“desman farm” called Kreminne was established in the floodplain lakes of the Krasna River. In modern terms, this was a nature reserve. Initially, the population increased, then fell back to its original numbers. The reserve was abolished in 1954 and turned into hunting grounds. Since then, desmans have occasionally been spotted in the Donets but gradually disappeared. It is believed that by the 1970s, the species was completely extinct in this river.

However, around the time when the desman nearly disappeared in the Donets, it appeared in the Seym. This was an artificially introduced population that, surprisingly, settled in well. The desman was released in the Kursk region in 1961 and found the Seym to its liking. The river originates in russia, flows through Ukraine, and empties into the Desna. The desman gradually spread downstream, inhabiting the Ukrainian part of the Seym in the Sumy region. The areas where the desman can live are now part of the Serednioseymskiy Reserve and Seymskiy Regional Landscape Park.

“The information we have about the Seym comes from recorded catches: people simply report that this animal was seen. There are photographs of desmans in the Seym tributary, the Vyr River — there was definitely a small population there,” says researcher Oleksandr Yemets.

Oleksandr himself encountered a desman in the Kleven River. This happened near the village of Lytvynovychi in the Konotop district on August 6, 2018. The zoologists were not expecting a desman at the time; they were out for a bird survey.

It seems this was the last recorded instance of a desman sighting in Ukraine.

Why There Are So Few Desmans

The animal is extremely particular about its living conditions. As soon as something doesn’t suit it, it leaves. If only it had somewhere to go…

Both natural and human factors threaten the desman. It is uncertain whether the animal will survive the new challenge — hostilities. So, what is endangering the desman?

• Climate Change

The desman is poorly adapted to temperature changes and may not survive droughts. 

Additionally, the animal spreads during river floods, which have been absent in recent years. “Its burrows get flooded, so it abandons them and follows the stream in search of new territories,” explains Oleksandr Yemets. “At such times, you might see a desman on some log or just floating in the water. The animal needs somewhere to sleep and eat, but its burrow is flooded! So, it leaves home. This is how it disperses. Have you seen the Seym flood? It’s an incredible sight: a sea of water under the spring sun, beautiful! Unfortunately, the last flood was about 20 years ago.”

• Agriculture

The desman is disturbed by the presence of people and livestock and gets frightened by sounds.

• Fishing

On the Siverskyi Donets, fishing contributed to the disappearance of the Russian desman. The animals got caught in nets, and people frequently visited the river with cars or used electric fishing rods, scaring or killing the animals.

• Wastewater

“During my years working in the Seymskiy Park, there have been two serious environmental disasters. Both were linked to russia,” laments Oleksandr Yemets.

On June 27, 2011, an accident occurred at the sewage treatment facilities in the russian city of Kursk. Wastewater is typically purified using activated sludge: a whole ecosystem of microorganisms that feed on substances in the wastewater, “cleaning” the water. At the Kursk treatment plant, these microorganisms died and failed to do their job. The untreated waste flowed into the Seym, reaching Ukraine.

“When this mass of poisoned water approached the dam near Tyotkino is a town in russia near the Ukrainian border.Tyotkino, instead of dealing with it on their territory, they opened the sluice gate and released the water into Ukraine. As a result, a colossal number of fish died here. The Ukrainian lamprey, a species of fish-like organisms that are protected by everything imaginable, was affected!” he exclaims.

The second major pollution incident occurred this year at the end of May. Once again, dirty water flowed from the north, killing fish.

Moreover, in 2012, at least four enterprises in russia were fined for discharging untreated wastewater into the Seym, and in 2023, the water utility company of Kursk, Kurskvodokanal, was fined for insufficiently treating the water that entered the river.

“Dirty water is a catastrophic situation!” Yemets laments. The water’s bacterial balance changes and the amount of dissolved oxygen drops sharply. This kills mollusks, reducing the desman’s food supply.

• War

Oleksandr Yemets predicts that the war will have the most significant impact on the desman population in the Vyr River.

The animals live in the river near the villages of Stari Vyrky, Novi Vyrky, Boyary-Lezhache, and Ryzhivka. “Right now, it’s hell there. All you can name is being fired there and exploding there. Nothing remains of poor Ryzhivka! And the desman was spotted near Ryzhivka, and it must still be living somewhere around there,” says Yemets.

It doesn’t necessarily take a direct hit to harm the desman population. Any animal flees areas where it is disturbed by noise and vibration. When a shockwave from an explosion hits water, aquatic organisms suffer from hydrodynamic shock. Simply put, they get shell-shocked. “If this happens regularly, it’s catastrophic for the animal. And this has been going on regularly for two years. The desman is a very cautious animal! It won’t stay where cows graze near the water. Just mere cows! And here, it’s shells!” 

Explosions not only make noise but also pollute the water, soil, and air, contaminating them with heavy metals.

Could the animal simply relocate downstream? It needs suitable living conditions, which are increasingly scarce. And it’s not just the war playing a role: sometimes farmers against the law plow fields right up to the Seym and other water bodies, which doesn’t suit the desman. Yemets concludes, “Where it used to live is now under bombardment. So it will definitely leave, but whether it will find a new place is a big question. The climate has changed significantly, the oxbow lakes have dried up. So the desman will look for A backwater is a place flooded by river or lake water during a flood, or a calm area of a river or lake. backwaters directly in the Seym. However, there aren’t many places that meet its living requirements.” 

How the Desman is Studied and Counted

Detecting the desman in the summer is difficult because the animal is nocturnal and lives among water plants and duckweed. Therefore, they are counted in the winter.

The method is as follows: when the water first freezes and the ice is clear, scientists walk on it and look down under the ice. They search for evidence of desmans. “Where there are burrows, there will be a trodden path — you can see that it uses this burrow,” explains Oleksandr. “Usually, shells gather near such burrows: the desman eats, throws out the shells while sitting in the burrow.”

The last serious studies were conducted in the Siverskyi Donets basin in 2001, but no desmans were found.

“We wanted to count the animals in the landscape park. However, organizing such an expedition is not easy. It’s very expensive and requires equipment. And now there’s a war,” laments Oleksandr.

In recent years, there have been at least a few recorded instances of desman sightings in the Seym. Now no one, except the military, can enter her habitat as the area is under frequent shelling.

The State Emergency Service of Ukraine prohibits researchers from traveling by boat or kayak on water bodies; the shores may be mined.

Only nature conservation inspectors have the right to check the condition of the landscape park. They report that there are almost no nets now, which is good. However, no one knows if the desman still lives in the Seym. 

Can the Desman Be Saved?

Until the hostilities in the Sumy region end, it is too early to talk about preserving the desman. Oleksandr Yemets says, “This is the highlight, the trump card of our landscape park. This is an animal from past epochs! If the russians leave our land, we will conduct research. Then, it will be clear what can be done to preserve the population. And the situation will improve. We must preserve this unique animal, which remains here only in the Sumy region.”

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.

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.

In April 2023, the Odesa dolphinarium Nemo was once again at the center of an animal cruelty scandal. Bloggers vacationing at Nemo Hotel Resort & SPA were getting photographed with seals from the dolphinarium right in their hotel room. At that time, UAnimals filed a complaint with the police, as the law prohibits offering photo services with wild animals outside the confines of dolphinariums. The inter-faction parliamentary association Humanna Krayina (Humane Country) also sent a petition to the police. As a result, criminal proceedings were initiated but later closed due to “lack of evidence of an offense.”

However, animal cruelty is not the only issue with the Odesa dolphinarium. UAnimals media, along with the OSINT agency Molfar, discovered that Nemo likely still has ties to Russia, with branches operating not only in the aggressor country but also in the temporarily occupied Crimea. Despite this, the dolphinariums in Ukraine remain open and continue to welcome visitors.

Debts and Hostile Takeovers: The Creation of Nemo

The first Nemo dolphinarium opened in Odesa in 2005, established by employees of the private enterprise Biolohichna Stantsiya (Biological Station).

According to the website of the city of Odesa from the CitySites network, about 1 million hryvnias from the Sevastopol budget were allocated for the dolphinarium project, with the remaining funds contributed by the limited liability company Nerum. This company leased land from the Biological Station for the construction of the dolphinarium, as well as four dolphins and three seals. In 2008, the lease expired, and Nerum owed about 5 million hryvnias for it.

The company was in no rush to return the money, so the debts were never paid. Instead, the Biological Station and its property were seized in a hostile takeover. Insiders working at this enterprise re-registered the dolphinarium to Nerum. Although the management of the Biological Station filed a lawsuit, it was not successful.

Thus, the dolphinarium belongs to the company Nerum, whose co-owners are:

• Rayisa Kislovska, mother of Odesa City Council deputy Andriy Kislovskyi;
• Mykhailo and Vyacheslav Kuchuks. Mykhailo Kuchuk was the deputy mayor of Odesa and was accused of accepting a bribe from a criminal group in 2023;
• The couple Serhiy and Nataliya Keliushkys. Nataliya Kelyushok (Kelly) has a temporary residence address in Russia;
• Dmytro Uryvskyi, one of the founders of the international non-governmental organization Mizhnarodna Asotsiatsiya Okeanariumiv Ta Delfinariyiv (International Association of Aquariums and Dolphinariums) in Crimea, lives in Anapa.

All of Nerum’s owners (or their full and partial namesakes) are also founders of the Russian limited liability company Ekologicheskiy Tsentr (Ecological Center). The company is located in Anapa, continues to operate, and pays taxes to the Russian budget. For example, in 2022, it paid over 600 thousand rubles (at the current exchange rate, this is over 6 thousand U.S. dollars to the budget of the state that launched a full-scale war against Ukraine).

Andriy Kislovskyi, who indirectly owns the dolphinarium through his mother, works in housing construction and apartment sales in Odesa. He was also a deputy of the Odesa City Council for four terms, particularly representing the Communist Party of Ukraine from 2010 to 2015. In 2013, Andriy Kislovskyi was seen among those involved in the seizure of the dolphinarium in Sevastopol. According to information from Russian databases leaked to the Internet, Kislovsky has a temporary residence address in Russia, where he has even retired.

Branches and Partner Companies: Nemo’s Ties to Russia

As part of its franchise, Nemo has dolphinarium branches in several Russian cities: Anapa, Nizhny Novgorod, Dzhubga, Golubinskaya, and Vityazevo.

Additionally, the Nemo dolphinarium is closely associated with other Russian companies. Primarily, this involves Chudnoye More (Wondrous Sea). From 2011 to 2013, this Russian company had a partnership with Nerum and received marine animals on behalf of the limited liability company Ecological Center.

These enterprises likely maintained connections even after Russia’s occupation of Crimea and the invasion of Donetsk and Luhansk regions in 2014. For instance, the autonomous non-profit organization Ortsynus reported the deaths of marine animals between 2019 and 2021, including a female Pacific walrus named Nyusha and a female seal named Meggy. These animals belonged to the Nemo dolphinarium network through Ecological Center and Wondrous Sea, according to Ortsynus.

The owner of the limited liability company Wondrous Sea through a trustee is Sergey Zirinov, a deputy from Russia’s ruling party, United Russia, who is suspected of murders and organizing a gang. In 2017, he was sentenced to 21 years in prison.

In 2014, the company Nerum, together with Tetyana Ryabchikova, founded the limited liability company Delfinariy Nemo (Dolphinarium Nemo) in the temporarily occupied Crimea. The legal address of this company is 10  Revkomivskyi Lane in Alushta. Can you guess what else you can find at this address? A dolphinarium from the Nemo network in Alushta, according to its website. It can be assumed that through this newly established company, the Ukrainian owners continued to manage the Crimean dolphinariums under occupation, not only in Alushta but also in Feodosia. Evidence supporting this includes:

• As of 2016, the Nemo website still listed branches in Feodosia, Alushta, and Russian cities.
• Dolphinariums in the Russian-occupied Alushta and Feodosia, as well as the one in Minsk (Belarus), share the same logo, website design, cross-references, and mentions of each other on social media. At the same time, dolphinariums in Odesa, Almaty, and Minsk offer the same gift certificates with the contact information of the Odesa dolphinarium.
• The Nemo dolphinarium Odesa mentions 15 branches on its website (a number that can only be reached by including those operating in Russia and the Russian-occupied territories of Ukraine).

Regarding Nemo branches in occupied territories, it is also worth mentioning the Berdyansk branch. This branch is well-remembered by colleagues in Kharkiv: as of June 2024, the official website of the Kharkiv Nemo still lists the dolphinarium in temporarily occupied Berdyansk as part of the network. Additionally, the owners of Nemo in Kharkiv do not fully comply with the Law “On Ensuring the Functioning of the Ukrainian Language as the State Language” on their website. Although it technically has a Ukrainian version, part of the menu and other content, even the logo, remain in Russian.

Shady Land Deals and Animal Cruelty: Other Allegations Against Nemo

The Nemo dolphinarium has repeatedly faced accusations of animal abuse. At the beginning of this article, we mentioned bloggers filming sea lions not in the dolphinarium but in a hotel room at Nemo. Guests of this hotel complex get entertained not only by sea lions but also by dolphins. This can be seen in photos and videos on social media from people who have stayed at the Nemo Hotel Resort & SPA.

The dolphins are kept in a pool near the sunbeds where guests swim with them, which violates the law “On the Protection of Animals from Cruel Treatment.” By referring to Article 25, Section 10 of the aforementioned law, you will find the prohibition against keeping dolphins in public catering establishments, hotels, resorts, and health institutions. These animals are listed in Appendix II of the Convention on the Conservation of European Wildlife and Natural Habitats under the scientific name Tursiops truncatus (tursio), or the common bottlenose dolphin.

There are also suspicions that even the pools at the Nemo dolphinarium may not be safe for the animals. 

In 2020, the Zelenyi Lyst NGO (Green Leaf), together with the State Environmental Inspection in the Odesa region, attempted a surprise inspection of the pool where the dolphins are kept. They were not allowed inside, but they managed to film the pool using a drone. The pool’s condition raises questions about whether the water volume is sufficient, whether the tent covering is too thin, and whether the water in the pool is tap water. Chlorinated tap water is harmful to dolphins, causing skin and mucous membrane issues.

This was not the only time state inspectors were denied access to monitor compliance with environmental protection requirements. Over the past five years, State Environmental Inspection employees in the Odesa region were denied access twice. However, experts were eventually able to inspect the Odesa dolphinarium in 2023 when the police opened a criminal case due to signs of animal cruelty. The State Environmental Inspection cannot disclose the conditions in which the animals are kept due to the secrecy of the investigation.

These were far from the first signs of animal cruelty. Suspicions of mistreatment of Nemo residents existed earlier. 

For example, in 2018, employees of the Odesa dolphinarium organized an unforgettable show for visitors: during a performance, a female dolphin gave birth while performing a “romantic dance.” This occurred despite the Ministry of Ecology and Natural Resources having established Rules and Standards for Keeping Dolphins in Captivity five years earlier, which, among other things, prohibited the use of pregnant females and nursing calves in public performances.

At the Odesa Nemo, pregnant dolphins are not only made to perform, but the dolphinarium also offers individual dances with dolphins for a hefty fee. Here is the price list for such services: 3,000-4,000 hryvnias [$75-100 as of June 2024] for 10 minutes of VIP swimming with dolphins. You have to wonder whether this money is worth the life of the animal. Humans can infect dolphins with deadly infections such as influenza or COVID-19. Karyna Vyshniakova, a candidate of biological sciences and head of the Marine Vertebrate Laboratory at the Ukrainian Scientific Center of Ecology of Sea (UkrSCES), highlighted this risk, “Scientific publications describe cases of bottlenose dolphins dying from the influenza A virus subtype H5N1. Additionally, scientists have discovered that dolphins have receptors similar to humans, which are responsible for SARS-CoV-2 infection.”

Moreover, there are the ubiquitous tricks where trainers ride the dolphins’ noses (scientifically known as rostrums). This can injure the animals. Experts have noted that even just being in captivity, dolphins can injure their rostrums against the pool walls. Adding the weight of 50-60 kg riders increases the risk of injury. Nemo does not seem to plan to abandon this practice. Recently, in May, UAnimals volunteers visited the Odesa dolphinarium and saw that they still have people riding on the dolphins’ noses.

Lack of Permits for Animal Keeping and Capture

In 2011, the Donetsk court considered a case against Nerum, which was accused of illegal construction and poaching. The lawsuit alleged that Nerum lacked permits for keeping wild animals and documents confirming the legality of transferring endangered marine mammals into private ownership and breeding them in captivity. 

According to the plaintiffs, the company had a permit to catch endangered animals in 2007, but all permits were annulled in April 2008. However, the company continued to somehow acquire marine animals for the Donetsk branch even after 2008. The court’s decision did not refute this information.

Unauthorized Land Seizure

The Odesa Nemo Dolphinarium is located on the territory of the Lanzheron beach. Nerum received a lease permit for this plot back in 2003. By 2007, the executive committee of the Odesa City Council allowed them to expand and build a “rehabilitation and health center for Dolphin therapy is not an evidence-based treatment method. The ultrasound emitted by dolphins does not meet the medical standards for ultrasound therapy. Besides, dolphins are wild animals that can harm people. For example, a dolphin had bitten a boy in the Nemo dolphinarium in Odesa.dolphin therapy».

Notably, the responsibility for overseeing this project was assigned to Mykhailo Kuchuk, not as a co-founder of Nemo but as the deputy mayor. At that time, the law “On Prevention of Corruption” did not exist, so such situations were not classified as a conflict of interest.

Since 2008, the company has been reconstructing the beach at the city’s request, as this plot was still in municipal ownership. However, in 2012, Nerum filed a lawsuit demanding that all newly constructed facilities on the Lanzheron shoreline be recognized as theirs. The court granted these demands and dismissed the prosecutor’s appeal. The Nemo Hotel was built with obvious legal violations as it is located less than 100 meters from the sea.

Nemo seized land during its expansion not just in Odesa. In Kyiv, the branch was established in a blatantly illegal manner: they occupied a plot of land and built a dolphinarium without permission. However, this trick did not work in the capital. The State Architectural and Construction Commission filed a lawsuit, and in 2013, the court ordered the demolition of the Nemo building in Kyiv. The founders appealed and continued to ignore the final demolition order for a long time. In the summer of 2017, the dolphinarium building was seized for large-scale fraud, and the dolphin shows ceased a few months later, in October. Unauthorized construction was insufficient for the dolphinarium’s operation, so the owners also illegally connected sewage systems to the building. In 2016 alone, Kyivvodokanal [Kyiv’s municipal water supply company] disconnected Nemo from the city’s sewer system three times, but they persistently reconnected each time.

The history of the Nemo dolphinarium network includes raiding, illegal construction, and, most disturbingly, the exploitation of defenseless animals. Despite animal rights activists’ outrage and numerous lawsuits, the Nemo dolphinarium continues to operate. Without visitors, this would be impossible. Perhaps, at least, the Russian connection in Nemo’s activities might convince Ukrainians not to support animal cruelty with their money.