“Where did you get that bite from?”

“From the marbled polecat”

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

“No, in Ukraine”

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

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

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

Face to face with a beast

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Broken plans 

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

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

‘Don’t they stink?’

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

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

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

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

Temporary inconvenience

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

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

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

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

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

The boom of marbled polecats

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Olena is described to me as a military woman who is “crazy about animals”. “She used to serve in our unit, and she always had animals with her. She took a lot of them home to Kyiv,” her brother-in-arms tells me. When I contact her, I am filled with surprise. It turns out that she is the Olena Bilozerska, who has been inspiring many with her bravery since 2014. Olena is a former journalist and a blogger. She first served as a sharpshooter in the The Right Sector Ukrainian Volunteer Corps was founded on July 17, 2014, as one of the volunteer battalions. It was created as a response to the rise of pro-russian separatism and the russian intervention in Donbas. (Adapted from Wikipedia)Right Sector Ukrainian Volunteer Corps. Later, she joined Ukraine’s Armed Forces after completing artillery training.

She loves poetry and painting, and she always has companion animals by her side. Many of them were rescued by the soldiers, and taken out of the war zone.

I spoke with Olena about the animals that accompany her on the front line and away from it.

Dogs on the front line

Are there any animals on the front line?

Yes, I have many stories about that. The most dramatic one is about a Cane Corso dog named Vasia. His human was part of the 503rd Separate Marine Battalion, where I was stationed at the time. The dog accompanied this guy everywhere, even in the trenches on duty. The dog even carried some stuff. One day, Vasia vanished. Soldiers were searching for him. They raised the drone and discovered something they’d rather not see. Vasia got into a trap. He became entangled in the wire near the trenches. It was nearly impossible to save him since you couldn’t slip in unnoticed. The recon guys were planning to evacuate the dog at night, but they did not manage to do it…

Because Vasia came back! He chewed off his paw and ran back on his three. He did not want to stay in captivity. He was sent to his human’s parents, and then I made Vasia famous by writing about his fate. His story got a lot of publicity, everyone admired him. Eventually, he received treatment and a prosthetic at the best clinic in Poland.

Does it happen that animals help you in combat missions?

In the fall of 2014, an old dog came to us in the village of Vodiane near the Donetsk airport. He went with our recon group on all the trips to the gray zone. Of course, we didn’t want to take the dog with us, so we shushed him away. He ran away at first, but then somehow knew which way we were going and waited for us at some crossroads. This dog ended up helping us a lot. He ran 20 meters ahead of the group and removed the tripwires. A human would have been, at the very least, seriously injured, but the dog was fine, because he is short compared to a human and runs fast. When he heard the “pop” of the detonator capsule, he managed to escape from the area hit by the debris 3-4 seconds before the explosion. So everyone was safe, both people and the dog.

How Efka was exchanged for F-1 grenades

You have a lot of photos of a red puppy. What’s the story here?

That’s Efka, the Belgian Shepherd mix. My friend and I found her beneath a kiosk along the highway in the summer of 2016. The guys named her Efka because when she was a small, round puppy, she resembled an F-1 grenade in her body form.

She went with us to the battlefield and was wounded. We rescued her as we would a wounded soldier. We drove her to the hospital at night, got a vet out of bed, took care of her, changed her bandages, and gave her injections… When I went on military duty, Efka had to be on a leash so that she wouldn’t run after me.

One day I was lying sick at our base near Mariupol, and my husband left early in the morning to go to another city to run some errands. Efka followed him to the bus stop. There he got on the bus and left, and she stayed there. He was sure that she would return to the base by herself.

By the next morning, she was gone. My husband and I went to that bus stop, asked people, put up posters — half the city was covered with them. We bought a battery-powered loudspeaker to drive around in the car and play announcements about our missing Efka… She was found three days later. Realizing that she was not going to get home, she followed people in military uniform and came with them to the military base of the Azov brigade. They left her there, and then they saw the poster and brought her. Of course, they didn’t want any money, but I gave them a few F-1 grenades for taking care of my Efka.

The silver one, the whiny one and the artillery one

And what about your relationship with cats?

The very first cat I had was called Vatnik, also called Komochok or Komtsia, a black kitten with a short broken tail. He was named Vatnik because in 2014, all the animals picked up in the Donetsk region were named either “Separ” refers to russian separatist troops in Ukraine, namely in the Donetsk and Luhansk regions. They were also known as russian proxy forces. This term carries a negative meaning and is commonly used to convey outrage, condemnation, or disapproval. (Adapted from Wikipedia)Separ or The word "Vatnik" refers to avid supporters of russian propaganda. (Adapted from Wikipedia)Vatnik. He arrived at the rear base and then accompanied me everywhere, including several advance bases (a few kilometers from the front line). When I went on military missions, he remained at these bases. He didn’t want to let me leave. When he noticed me getting ready to go, he grabbed my legs and yelled. When we were under fire, he’d drag me to safety by my leg. He went with me through many very dangerous places, but died on peaceful territory. He died after catching a poisoned rat. The rest of my pets are luckily still alive. 

A few months after Efka, Silver, a kitten of the Neva Masquerade breed, appeared. A soldier found him somewhere, and we took him. He was a very smart cat, but he was also sick.

Another dog, Shkavulik, grew up with the cat. In early December, a stray dog brought puppies to our basement. All nine of these puppies got sick with enteritis. On New Year’s Eve, my room at the base turned into a dog hospital. We managed to save only four of them. I decided to keep the smallest puppy.

I named him Shkavulik (in Ukrainian, “the whiny one”) since he was constantly crying pitifully. Shkavulik grew up with Silver, they adopted each other’s behaviors. Silver growled and tried to bark, Shkavulik chased after mice… And when other people’s cats came into the yard, the trio would chase them away. Efka and Shkavulik would chase the bird into a tree, and then Silver would climb up to deal with it.

All three of them, big Efka (weighing 30 kg), Shkavulik, and Silver, slept with me in my bed. There were rugs, but they wanted to sleep with me, and it was impossible to keep them away.

It was very difficult to feed them, because we were unpaid volunteers who did not have salaries. It got to the point where we had to take the other two dogs that came to our base and give them to other soldiers who lived better than we did.

Later, while I was an artillerywoman in the Ukrainian Marine Corps, I discovered a three-colored cat on a training site near Melitopol. I named him Busol (or Busia). Busol literally means “artillery compass”. She traveled with me to Exercise Sea Breeze, and there, American marines wanted to get her from me and take her to their ship. Busia is a Maine Coon mix. She weighs 6-7 kilograms. She’s also a really picky lady. She lets you pet her only when she wants to.

When the full-scale invasion exploded, the dogs, Efka and Shkavulik, were living with my father-in-law in the Cherkasy region. The cats, Silver, Busia and Kasia, were living at my home in Kyiv. I sent them to my father-in-law as well. When the war is over, I will take them back. In the meantime, they are growing up and getting older without me.

What do cats write in secret chats?

How do other soldiers behave towards your animals?

They are mostly animal lovers. However, there are people with different household habits. One of my now deceased brother-in-arms, for example, was a clean freak. We used to sleep on mattresses on the floor, and my dogs would go on those mattresses with their dirty paws after the rain. So many guys were grumbling about that, especially the one that loved cleaning. The animals and I even had to relocate to a different home. It was a risky maneuver because everything was taking place in a village on the front line that was frequently bombarded by the russian troops.

Do cats and dogs disrupt your work?

No, not in combat missions because we don’t take them directly into battle. And if they are in the trenches with us, they sneak away when it gets hot, as if they are not present. But when you work on a laptop, not even the greatest cat bed can match the excitement of a keyboard for cats. Their life revolves around lying on the keyboard. No amount of treats will distract them from their laptop. They don’t just lie there; they type messages in secret military chats, such as “trrrrrrrr” and “aaaaaa”.

When the commander reads this, he asks, “Have you been drinking there, or what?”. And among those reading this, there will definitely be a soldier who knows what’s going on. He will write plainly, “That’s the cat”.

I have also stories of cats running somewhere at night, and you take your rifle with a thermal imaging scope and go “hunting” for your own cat.

Can an animal somehow improve your mood or the mood of the people around you?

Oh, they’re experts at this Simply petting a cat or a dog makes you feel better. You kiss the fluffy one or the plushie-looking one on the forehead, one of them licks you, and you feel like you have something to live for.

I’m lying with my back against the wall, covered by a slab of concrete and surrounded by dry weeds, vehicle tires, bricks, and chunks of concrete. I spot a little, agile dog darting past me through a crevice. Then she rushes to the slab and barks loudly right in my face. She is adorable, of course, but her large teeth flash before my eyes, and her bark is deafening. This goes on for several long minutes until Olha, the dog’s handler, approaches and throws her a ball. Then I crawled out from beneath the simulated rubble at the State Emergency Service training facility.

Ninja, a five-year-old dog, looks for humans who are still alive underneath debris. And her biggest source of inspiration is this dazzling red ball. Ninja wants to “hunt” it down beyond anything else.

Search and rescue (SAR) dogs are present in all law enforcement agencies in Ukraine: the National Guard and the Armed Forces, the State Border Guard Service, and the State Emergency Service. Additionally, there are units with entirely different tasks within these structures. While some dogs look for bombs, others serve as police escorts. Dogs trained in search and rescue are able to locate survivors in the debris or in nature. In the article, we are going to concentrate on them specifically.

Where do SAR dogs live?

I first met Ninja in an indoor enclosure at the training ground known as the canine unit. However, she does not live there. Ninja lives at home with an emergency service worker and a dog trainer, Olha Bibikova, along with her mother and two other dogs. One of them is called Kliukva, who was also a SAR dog. The other is Kuzya from Sloviansk, who is paralyzed in her hind legs.

Ninja works at the training ground of the Mobile Rescue Center in the Kyiv region. All the dogs there belong to dog handlers and live with them.

“Dog handlers, like rescuers, work one shift every three days. When an emergency occurs, we go deal with the aftermath. We are on duty from 8 a.m. to 9 a.m. When we go home, the dogs go with us,” says Olha.

Meanwhile, most dogs in the State Emergency Service belong to the state. They do not live with people, but in canine centers. “We have a fenced-in space here with about 50 enclosures,” says Vladyslav Pukhalskyi, a major of the Civil Protection Service and a veterinarian of the Interregional Center of Rapid Reaction State Service Emergency of Ukraine in Romny is a city in the Sumy region.Romny. There are three canine units there: emergency rescue, sapper, and dogs training group, where Vladyslav works.

The dogs are brought from this center to help in other regions, mainly to smaller permanent deployment points. There, they also have semi-permanent enclosures. “The enclosures can be transported by a crane. There are also kennels, covered on top to keep the water out,” says Vladyslav.

When an emergency situation happens and the order to leave is given, the dog is placed in a box (a small cage) and transported to work in a special vehicle along with people. 

In the field 

Work and rest spells

“Something is burning here, it’s hot over there, there’s smoke and dust, and everyone is working around… It’s a tense situation. It’s not the same as training,” Vladyslav recalls his trip to the Dnipro region.

SAR dogs from the State Emergency Service are now constantly working at the places of russian shelling. From the regional center, they go to the Kharkiv, Sumy, and Dnipro regions. From the mobile center, they go mostly to the Kyiv region, but there may be other cities and even regions.

According to rescuers, the dog handler does not let the dog go where it is too dangerous, and the animal could, for example, collapse. The dog does not work for hours on end, assures Vladyslav. “The dog works for about 20 minutes, and that’s it. He searches the area and comes back, and people need to clear the rubble in that spot. They don’t even wait 20 minutes; that’s the maximum. Then the dog needs to be given water and put back in the carrier. We then judge the situation to determine if the dog is needed again.”

Although dogs work in short periods, they can be near the rubble all day or even longer. “There have been times when dogs have been at the search site for 24 hours,” says the veterinarian. When dogs are on site for many days, they live in vehicles, special kennels, and are able to walk around. The dog is not restricted to the kennel all the time.

In Antakya

Even during the full-scale invasion, Ninja managed to work not only on the rubble in Ukraine, but also abroad. On February 6, 2023, a powerful earthquake struck Turkey, and a team of Ukrainian rescuers went to the city of Antakya to help.

“It was devastating. You walk down the street and everything is destroyed,” recalls Olga. At first, Ukrainian teams searched the destroyed buildings, then cleared the rubble. They worked for nine days. Each shift lasted six hours, followed by six hours of rest, and then they went back to work.

“One building was being dismantled by an excavator. It was a multistorey building that had simply collapsed. In international classification, this is called a pancake collapse. And then someone heard a suspicious sound. There were a lot of people there, and they called us. Ninja started searching and marked the spot with her voice. Turkish rescuers pulled a 30-year-old woman out of there,” says Olha. The woman was immediately placed on a stretcher and taken to an ambulance. She was conscious, but her condition was marked as critical. That year, the Ukrainian Kennel Union awarded Ninja the The Medal for Lifesaving is a medal of Ukraine presented for saving human life, acts of charity, humanistic and other activities in public health, and accident prevention. Source: Wikipedia.Medal for Lifesaving.

A puppy with a strong food motivation has a better chance of becoming a SAR dog. Play motivation is also important: a toy motivates the dog to perform a task.

Building skills in reverse

“All dog skills are taught from the end goal,” explains Olha. “What do we want to achieve? We want the dog to find a person and mark them with the voice. The person takes a motivational object — something the dog wants, such as a toy or food — and shows it to the dog. If the dog barks, the toy or some food is given. Then the person hides gradually. If it is a forest, then behind a tree, and if it is rubble, then behind some kind of shelter. The dog quickly understands that he needs to sniff. This is natural for a dog; this animal lives by its nose.”

Dogs are taught to search for dead people and, for example, drugs using a sample. Besides that, the process is similar. The difference is that a search and rescue dog must receive encouragement from the person he has found, not from its handler. That is why dogs must be friendly to people.

Dogs that have undergone training to become SAR dogs take exams together with their handlers. There are three stages of certification. The first one is an eligibility exam. The dog must find one person in a rubble pile or in the forest and pass an obedience and agility test. Then comes the so-called Class A exam—the dog must find two people within a certain time. The next stage is Class B—the dog must find three people. The search area increases for each class.

Is training beneficial or harmful?

“When we take a predator animal, whose senses and entire physique are designed for active movement and hunting, and place it in a very comfortable apartment with a soft bed, such an animal has nowhere to apply its physical abilities and intelligence,” says dog behavior expert Ria Smulska. She cares for six street dogs and works with pet dogs. According to her, a dog cannot be forced to search using cruel methods. The animal works at a distance, without a leash or an electric collar. So the dog chooses whether to cooperate with humans and obey commands.

“For dogs, such training is a joy. They can use their noses to demonstrate species-specific behavior. They work in tandem with their favorite person. No handler who has trained a dog will treat it as expendable. The dog is your partner, whom you have raised and cherished. Training is very energy-intensive for the handler too,” says Ria.

Puppies are trained every day. The older the dog, the less often he needs to be trained, says Olya Bibikova. “The dog should miss the search. If you train for an hour every day, the dog will barely drag itself there. Oh no, not again, it’s taking so long, I’m bored… Ninja searches once a week. It’s part of the hunting instinct. When she finds a person and they throw a ball for her, it’s as if she has found and caught her prey.”

How SAR dogs receive medical help

“Eva just had an appointment. I treated her skin,” says veterinarian Vladyslav. “I have 34 dogs under my care.”

Previously, there were three employees in the department. Now he is the only one, but they plan to expand the staff. Vladyslav regularly examines the dogs, gives them vaccinations and treats them. However, the health of search dogs is not only his responsibility, but of dog handlers. “The dog handlers see that something is wrong with a dog, then they bring the animal to me. In diagnosing a disease, it is not only the clinical picture that is important, but also the medical history. How the dog behaves, whether he is active or more passive, whether he has been jumping or whining. You need to gather as much information as possible.”

Before starting their job, dog handlers undergo training in SAR dog handling. They also learn about veterinary care. “I explain to them how to examine dogs, how to remove ticks, how to take the temperature, and what to inject if necessary. They can also always call and ask questions,” says Vladyslav. Veterinarians equip dog handlers with first aid kits so that they can help the dogs in an emergency. According to Vladyslav, the most common cases are scratches or bee stings. Even more common are digestive disorders. “We go to a different place, where the water is different. Dogs react strongly to water. They start to have problems.”

Search and rescue dogs must be healthy, even from a pragmatic point of view. They cannot be obese, have problems with their musculoskeletal system, or suffer from pain. Otherwise, the dog will not be able to work.

After working on the rubble, dogs sometimes come back with cuts, says Vladyslav. More serious injuries, he says, are rare. “Last year, there was a case where a dog was injured after searching the rubble. A medic stitched her up.”

There have been no cases of dogs dying at the center in the entire history of canine calculations, according to the center. The center has existed in its current form since 2018. The State Emergency Service did not disclose information about fatalities after the start of the full-scale invasion. However, dogs have died in other structures; for example, since 2022, at least 25 dogs of the Armed Forces of Ukraine have died. These were not search and rescue animals, but mostly guard dogs who died because of russian shelling. 

In place of a dog

Why dogs?

Microscopic robots assist with surgical procedures, drones replace intelligence troops, and artificial intelligence engages in philosophical discussions. Why, then, in such a technological society, are dogs brought in to help?

Rescue missions do not arrive at the rubble empty-handed. They have special microphones and cameras, including infrared ones. These technologies help find victims who can be seen, heard, or whose infrared signature can be detected. If this is not possible, then only canine teams can help.

Dogs can quickly locate victims by smell. Technology cannot replace a dog’s nose, which has evolved over millions of years. At least not yet. 

Right platform needed

“Hello! That’s Spot!”

In numerous videos, scientists show a funny yellow “dog”. They say you just want to pet him. No matter how cool he may seem, he has no emotions or thoughts. Spot is a robot from Boston Dynamics, designed primarily for data collection.

For something to work on rubble instead of a dog, that something needs to be able to move as dynamically as an animal or a human. Spot is a dynamic platform capable of moving through space. Unlike wheeled or tracked drones, it moves better over awkward piles of earth or debris because it mimics the movement of a dog.

The Hong Kong-developed Unitree Go2 is actively sold on the Ukrainian market. It is also demonstrated at various technical innovation exhibitions in Ukraine.

There are many other robot dogs. Some are already being used by the Ukrainian army, but not for search and rescue, rather for certain logistical tasks.

Robots do not get tired or feel pain. Perhaps they will replace dogs in rubble if they are equipped with a so-called electronic nose. 

All you need is a nose 

Most likely, in addition to dog paws, Spot will also have an electronic nose, says Dr Nik Denler, developer of one such “nose.”

An electronic nose is a sensor. It analyzes what we and animals perceive as smell. These are volatile substances emitted by objects. These molecules hit the sensor, and the computer converts the data into a signal, in our case, whether there is a person under the rubble.

Electronic noses will also be used in other areas. They will detect the presence of diseases in plants and the smell of forest fires. Such devices are already being used to determine air quality, including in Ukraine. However, when it comes to searching for people after disasters in real-life conditions, electronic noses have not yet replaced live dogs.

In experiments only

The “nose” developed by British scientist Nik Denler was able to recognize the smells of bananas, cheese, pineapple, and eucalyptus, even when they changed 60 times per minute.

He developed the device, the size of a bank card, together with colleagues from the University of Hertfordshire. Although the goal of the development was to replace police dogs with robots, at the moment this experiment has only confirmed that the technology can analyze smells in general.

In 2018, at the University of Innsbruck, five men and four women entered a special airtight chamber made of stainless steel and glass one at a time. Beforehand, the chamber was cleaned of odors, and a special fan stirred the air. The volunteers entered wearing only underwear and no makeup, and they had not eaten anything for eight hours beforehand to simulate being trapped under rubble. For the first hour, the person breathed through a mask, and for the second hour, without it. During this time, the latest device measured volatiles — first those released through the skin, then those released through the skin and breath.

The electronic nose managed the task and was able to indicate the presence of people.

This device is one of the most famous odor sensors designed to search for people under rubble. It was developed by ETH Zurich.

There is also a French development, the Sniffer sensor, for searching for people, which has already been integrated into a robot named Smurf. This device moves on wheels, so Smurf cannot move as freely as a dog.

Sniffer and Smurf were tested together during the CURSOR project (a European scientific initiative to develop various rescue devices). This pair could detect the presence of a person at a distance of about two meters. They only worked in training conditions.

When an emergency happens, dogs are needed immediately. They are a valuable part of rescue teams, who have been extensively trained and live in special conditions. They are not stationed in every remote location where an earthquake, avalanche, or explosion could occur. They must be transported to the site, sometimes even by plane or helicopter. Therefore, devices could potentially become an even more accessible solution than dogs. 

At the same time, many people are concerned about another conflict: A dog can never give informed consent to dangerous work. No matter how well dogs are cared for, they are still exposed to risk in one way or another. Technology could eliminate this issue.

Replacing dogs with robots is an area of intense scrutiny and interest for scientists. So an electronic nose is a broad and dynamic field of research. However, so far, no Spot moves as skillfully as Ninja, and electronic sensors have not surpassed her sensitive wet nose.

This should have been a place filled with children’s laughter, the sound of a ball bouncing on the floor, and the teacher’s whistle stopping running exercises. Instead, for four consecutive days, veterinary consultations, procedures, and surgeries were taking place here. This is a school gymnasium in Vozdvyzhivska hromada (a basic unit of administrative division in Ukraine), where the UAnimals team temporarily set up a “veterinary clinic”. 

Medical help is provided not only to stray cats and dogs but also to animals from local residents. People from the hromada bring their pets for check-ups and consultations.

Roman Bidnenko, an animal catcher, is responsible for catching as many stray animals as the vets can provide medical care for. Moreover, during this mission, Roman managed to find a family for some stray puppies.

The family adopted the puppy after she was spayed, treated for parasites, vaccinated, and microchipped. This medical help was provided to all animals that came into the UAnimals “veterinary clinic” set up in the school gymnasium. The only exceptions were tiny kittens and puppies that were too young to get spayed or neutered. 

Some animals require treatment, and others need surgery.

In total, 379 animals received medical help.

The grumpy hen Baba Zina, the dogs Romka and Hraf, Mike and Gina, the pig Dusia, and the goat Marta live in shelters or with families across Ukraine. Most likely, these, and thousands of others, animals would not have survived if they hadn’t been taken in, evacuated, or treated in time by the people honored by UAnimals at the Animal Protection Award. 

These people experience every layer of society’s attitude toward animals on a daily basis. They know how often indifference is intertwined with compassion in the story of an animal.

We asked them about the moments that left the strongest impressions on them, and here’s what they’ve told us.

“No one expected he would survive” 

Anastasiia Klimniuk, the founder and the head of Animal House Rescue NGO

Kharkiv/Poltava region

This memory is from February 26, 2022. Animal food was hard to come by in Kharkiv. You couldn’t buy natural food, and all pet stores were closed. A warehouse with pet supplies opened in a garage. We were in a queue for dog food with 60 other people. It was a moment I’ll never forget. A man approached us with a cat in a carrier. His house had been destroyed, his wife had evacuated. He decided to go defend the country and had nowhere to leave the cat. He asked the people if anyone could take the cat in. No one responded. My husband and I exchanged glances and almost instantly decided to take the cat. That’s how we started taking in animals.

Later, we found out that the cat belonged to that man’s son. He and his wife had just had a baby, who was just two weeks old when the war began. So they decided to leave the cat with the grandparents for a month. When the man came to that line, the young parents were under russian occupation. Later, I received a message from them asking, “Do you still have our cat by any chance?” They sent me a photo of him as a kitten. So when we took him in, he was still very young. In 2022, the cat returned to his family.

There are examples of very caring attitudes toward animals in our area. Once, people saw a German shepherd lying near their yard. At first, they thought the dog was dead since he didn’t even move his ears. Eventually, they realized the dog was breathing. The people contacted us, and we took the animal to a veterinary clinic. There was very little hope of him surviving. The dog had no sensitivity in his body at all. An MRI showed a dislocation in his cervical spine.

When we picked the dog up at the clinic, he was already eating and going to the toilet on his own. The people who found him agreed to take in the dog with a disability and care for him. They named him Hraf. Now he can crawl, lie in a sphinx pose, and sit up for about 40 seconds, and he doesn’t need anyone’s help to eat. They built a wheelchair-like device so he is able to move around.

She fled on foot with a child and a puppy from shelling 

Olena Rusina, the head of Pegasus shelter

Malozakharyne, Dnipropetrovsk region

Recently, we were asked to go to a village because there was a large injured dog there. He had just appeared on the streets, even wearing a collar, but no one knew where he came from.

Local elderly women noticed him. These weren’t young people, skilled at using the Internet, yet they still tried to post his photo on social media to look for his family. The women even chipped in to buy parasite treatments for the dog.

We got a call after he got into a fight with another dog. We arrived and were met by these women, all with canes. These were civilized people who didn’t abandon the animal. They didn’t say, as often happens, “The dog’s lying around somewhere, go find him yourselves.” They followed our car, led us to the exact spot where the dog was. They cared for us, the volunteers. That was very heartwarming. The dog is still being treated and now lives at Pegasus shleter.

There was also a case when the offensive on Vovchansk began. Some people even fled on foot. A woman contacted us, asking if we could help provide shelter for a puppy. We didn’t want to, as our shelter was overcrowded. But it turned out this young woman was fleeing shelling on foot. She only took her child in a stroller. Just imagine the state she was in at that time! On the road, she saw a small, exhausted puppy. He was in the same circumstances as she was. The woman picked up the puppy and placed him at the bottom of the stroller! 

She made it to Dnipro, but didn’t abandon the puppy in the city. Then she contacted us, saying, “What do I do with a puppy and a child?” I posted the story on social media, and a family immediately responded and adopted the dog.

“Forgive me, Mike”

Serhii Ludenskyi, the founder and the head of Save Animals Ukraine NGO

Dnipro

Not long ago, I was asked to evacuate two Rottweilers from the frontline village of Oleksandropil in the Donetsk region. An elderly man was still living there, with a granddaughter waiting for him in Poland. The only issue was the dogs: two Rottweilers, 7-year-old Mike and 5-year-old Gina, lived in his yard. Traveling with such large dogs would have been difficult for the elderly man. It was because of them that he hadn’t left.

On the day of the evacuation, the elderly man arrived at his yard by bicycle. He had come from a small neighboring village, which was hit less often by artillery. A field behind his house was burning after a strike. All of this was happening under the thunderous sound of artillery.

The most heartbreaking moment was the man’s goodbye to his dogs. He hugged Mike’s head and said, “Forgive me, Mike. I have no choice.”

That video on my TikTok got a million views. I think many Ukrainians could relate to that pain.

We knew that Mike was aggressive. I had to climb onto the roof of the van and pull him up by the leash to get him inside.

The elderly man asked us to leave quickly, to avoid prolonging the goodbyes. So we did.

We brought the dogs to our shelter near Dnipro. It turned out that Mike was only aggressive toward other dogs. Both Rottweilers were soon taken in by lovely families. I’m very happy there are people who don’t abandon animals and others who are willing to take them in.

Two skeletons on chains

Tetiana Nelha, the founder of Zoofamily charity fund and shelter 

Pavlysh, Kirovohrad region

I always see both sides of the coin in how people treat animals, and it shocks me. I look at the soldiers, the rescuers who evacuate animals from combat zones while risking their own lives. They’re amazing. On the other hand, there are people in our area who don’t sterilize their pets, who cruelly dispose of puppies and kittens in trash bags at garbage dumps or in treelines. Some head into shelling to save animals; others kill them.

In our area there were people who would frequently leave their homes, abandoning their animals in chains and not feeding them. By law, we don’t have the right to enter someone else’s yard and take the animals. We had to push to get the police to go in with us and remove the dogs from their chains. These were already two skeletons. There’s currently an investigation against those people, so I can’t say more. I took the animals for treatment and rehabilitation at Zoofamily.

When a vet becomes an animal volunteer

Aliona Hrinnyk, the founder of Give a Paw YU NGO

Pivdennoukrainsk, Mykolaiv region

One day the phone rang, “Hello, I’m a veterinarian. I googled ‘volunteers Pivdennoukrainsk,’ and your number came up right away. I want to be useful, by giving advice at the very least.” It was Oleksandr Sokolov, who had relocated from Enerhodar. We met, and I immediately invited him to join our sterlization projects.

Before that, I had rented a house in the neighboring village of Kostiantynivka for animals to be housed temporarily. Well, calling it a house is generous; it was falling apart. There were walls, piles of trash, and grass up to our waists. My husband, my father, and I started fixing it up. People helped. Someone brought a bucket, someone brought a broom. A few volunteers came to clear weeds. We made sure the house was in order and set up a temporary place for animals to stay in. 

When Oleksandr arrived, with other volunteers, we chipped in to buy thread, anesthesia, and to set up an operating room. We began sterilizing stray cats and dogs there.

Time passed. I changed jobs, and our financial situation improved. We invested money, and in September 2024, we opened a clinic in the city.

There, we treat pets for a fee — to help strays, you need resources. Soldiers and internally displaced persons get discounts; some even get treatment free of charge. If an elderly woman comes with a pet, we treat it at a discount or free of charge. Plus, we do free spaying only of female cats so far. Our city has a shelter. By agreement, we operate on their dogs. Sometimes animals are brought in for treatment and we don’t charge for that. For strays under care of volunteers, we only charge the cost of materials.

We run campaigns for the free sterilization of strays. Our city is small, and there are more animals here than people. So we focus on sterilization. 

That village house now serves as a post-op recovery space and houses animals with disabilities. And Oleksandr Sokolov still works with me at the clinic.

“It wasn’t the shelling that killed them, it was hunger”

Alina Ostapenko, a member of Sumy Animal Home 

Sumy

I hardly remember life before the war. February 24, 2022, was a turning point in my mind. That’s when my real test as an animal rights defender began. It seemed that after the liberation of the Sumy region, life should have gotten easier, but then came the shelling of border areas and mandatory evacuations.

A year ago, in Yunakivka, a border village in the Sumy region, a local woman found eight dead dogs in different yards. It wasn’t the shelling that killed them, it was hunger. Most of the animals remained chained up until they died, unable to find even a scrap of food. All of them had been left there by people.

We had to go there to save the chained-up animals. On our first trip to the border area, we evacuated two dogs, Bruno and Alex, from Yunakivka.

Bruno’s survival was nothing but a miracle. We found him tied up in a yard where two other dogs already lay lifeless. Alex survived by eating raw corn.

After Alex and Bruno, we evacuated around 15 more dogs from Yunakivka.

Bruno is now at the shelter, and we’re still looking for a home for him. Alex found a loving family last year.

After meeting these dogs, we began actively evacuating animals from the border areas. Few people wanted to go to the villages of the Sumy region, so I decided to learn how to drive. That’s how a new chapter of spending weeks in remote shelled corners of the region began. Sadly, we couldn’t save them all.

In three years, we’ve found homes for about a thousand animals. No more abandoned animals is the result I strive for.

Neighbors so unalike

Olha Volkova, the head of Soul of a Tramp shelter 

Lupareve, Mykolaiv region 

This happened in the village of Lymany, before my trip to the Animal Protection Award. There, one woman poisoned about 20 dogs.

An acquaintance came to me and said, “Imagine, Olia, while you’re saving animals, this woman asked me, ‘Are you going to the city? Then buy me some rat poison, I didn’t have enough. I’ll poison the dogs.’” When I heard that, I went to the village. But the dogs were already dead, I couldn’t do anything. I saw the woman who poisoned them. I asked if she didn’t feel sorry for the dogs. She replied, “No. I poisoned them, and I’ll keep poisoning them.”

Olha has passed her testimony to the legal department of UAnimals and hopes to bring that woman to justice.

Roman Oleksandrovych, Baba Zina, Dusia, and the others

Viktoriia Zhydkova, the founder of Virnist animal protection society and of Human Rights Initiative NGO

Dobropillia, Donetsk region

In August 2019, my husband went to take out the trash. There was a bag with puppies in the dumpster. Only one was still alive, it was just two hours old. That’s when our fight for its life began. My husband made a special box for the puppy, basically, an artificial mom. We fed it by the clock, woke up at night. One time, my husband suddenly yelled, “Come here!” I thought something bad had happened. I came over and the puppy had opened the eyes. I’ve never seen my husband so happy. And now that dog is our famous Roman Oleksandrovych. Little Roma.

Another real act of humanity was when a whole chain of kindness worked together to rescue a farm in Udachne. I’m a vegetarian, and it was essential to me to save the farm, not to slaughter the animals. I wanted to create a shelter that would take in farm animals, and I shared the idea on social media.

That’s when a man from Udachne called me. He had a small farm. I must’ve asked him ten times, “Are you going to eat the animals?” He said no, and that their goose was 15 years old, the goats were 17…

Many people were involved in the farm’s evacuation. And now the animals from Udachne live at my shelter. We have Dusia the pig, who gives you her paw. There’s Marta the goat, she always greets you, bleats in her own way, and stretches out her front leg. There’s a chicken we call Baba Zina because she’s always grumpy. The moment you walk into the coop, she clucks as if to say, “You’re walking wrong, standing wrong, doing everything wrong.” Her beak won’t ever close. 

Kolia and the puppies 

Inna Borodulia — founder and the head of Happy Cat CSO

Zaporizhzhia

I work closely with a soldier named Slavik. He has evacuated a large number of animals and finds people to take them out of the combat zone. He pays for sterilization and treatment out of his own pocket. I’m actually about to head out to vaccinate puppies where he’s stationed. I’d love to take them all to the shelter, but that’s just not possible. To me, he’s a human with a capital H.

But I have another hero. Kolia, a tall, easy-going guy who works at a factory. Honestly, at first, I thought he wasn’t the brightest. But things aren’t always what they seem at first glance. The summer before last, Kolia found newborn puppies in a dumpster. Not afraid of the challenge, he took them in and raised them. All by himself! And this while working shifts at a demanding job! Every one of those puppies survived. He found homes for them all and kept one for himself. Ever since, I tell him, “Kolia, you’re my hero.”

***

After receiving their awards, the winners of the Animal Protection Award are quick to step out of the spotlight and return to their animals. At home, they change back into work clothes and roll up their sleeves. For three years of full-scale war, these people have been taking in dogs and cats, farm and wild animals, those evacuated from the front line or nearby areas, and sometimes they evacuate them on their own. That’s hundreds, sometimes thousands, of new animals each year. Animals keep arriving because the war continues. However, we can at least make sure these animal defenders don’t have even more work because of abandoned and mistreated pets left behind in safer regions of Ukraine.

Natalka is sitting on the porch of a village clubhouse in Novoosynove, Kharkiv region. The roar of the frontline echoes in the background. Smoke rises on the horizon.

“What are you doing now?” I ask.

“Preparing a solution. There’s a dog feeling unwell over there. We’ll give it an IV.”

A massive dark dog is sleeping in a cage under a birch tree. An IV is set up and hung from the tree’s lower branch. Nearby, cages hold animals awaiting surgery in the UAnimals veterinary vehicle.

We speak with Natalka during a UAnimals veterinary mission in the Kharkiv region, near Kupiansk, where veterinarians have long been absent. Here, Natalka and her team sterilize animals and provide medical assistance.

— The locals in Novoosynove seem to recognize you. This isn’t your first visit, is it?

— We were here in the summer, and people have gotten somewhat used to us. Back then, this place was much livelier: stores were open, and there were more residents. But since then, the situation has worsened. Fewer people remain, and the atmosphere has grown more somber. The store that used to operate now serves as a temporary shelter for animals.

— When you chose this profession, did you imagine your life would look like this?

— No, not at all! No veterinarian envisions their life this way!

My mother is a doctor, and I also considered a medical career. However, I didn’t want to work with people and chose veterinary medicine instead. Turns out, veterinarians often work more with people than with animals. There was a time when I doubted my life choices. I left university in my third year. Later, I returned with a clear purpose and have been dedicated to this profession ever since.

Nowadays, everyone does what they can. Through the Accessible Sterilization project, we can sterilize stray animals and vaccinate them against rabies. That’s what we do. The project’s goal is to make sterilization and rabies vaccination accessible for stray animals and pets belonging to low-income families. We also want people who take care of street animals to have the opportunity to sterilize them.

A long time ago, around 15 years ago, I began visiting animal shelters. At the time, I was working at a clinic and was invited to help at the Hostomel shelter. The conditions there were, to put it mildly, poor. I saw animals giving birth within the shelter because they weren’t sterilized. Many puppies and kittens had illnesses and died. That’s when I had the idea to make animal sterilization more accessible.

— Why sterilize stray or street animals?

— Many animals are born uncontrollably.

Why do we encounter cruelty toward animals? I believe the main problem is that there are too many of them. People commit various acts that degrade human dignity — like drowning kittens or puppies. Additionally, kittens, puppies, and mature animals get sick when there is no one to take care of them. It is an endless cycle of suffering.

There are no laws regulating animal reproduction. Often, people refuse to sterilize their pets. Usually, it’s an immature attitude. They claim to feel sorry for the animal but then go on to kill kittens or puppies. This is the cruelty we strive to curb.

— What does your work look like?

— My colleagues — Yuliya Tkachenko and Lolita Polishchuk — and I have a stationary office in Kyiv where we perform surgeries on animals a few times a month.

However, most of our work is done on our trips. We operate in frontline towns as well as in the Kyiv region. We perform surgeries in Novi Petrivtsi, north of Kyiv, and Ivankiv, near Chornobyl. There, we rent spaces and sterilize cats and dogs brought in by low-income residents. We invite people via various social media groups. We also assist the Sirius shelter, which is struggling financially and lacks a veterinarian.

— Do you remember your first field mission?

— We started operating in villages before the full-scale war. However, I distinctly recall one trip already during the invasion. We traveled north of Kyiv to Kukhari, a village by the Teteriv River. Our army was holding back the advance on Kyiv there. Tanks passed through the village, and a major battle took place. The village was completely destroyed — only chimneys remained standing. It looked like a scene from a World War II film. It was deeply disturbing. We worked in a clubhouse that a caretaker was trying to rebuild, even though his own house had also been destroyed.

When we arrived, it seemed like no one lived there anymore. The reception was scheduled for 10 a.m., and suddenly, people began appearing from all directions.

Despite their destroyed homes and shattered lives, they came to sterilize their animals!

Our first mission to a frontline area was to Lyman after its liberation. It was winter, and we worked in an abandoned veterinary clinic. Seeing it was heartbreaking because it had been someone’s business. [During the occupation], Russian forces used the clinic — they vandalized everything inside.

The city was in ruins. We watched as our military vehicles and soldiers moved toward the front line… but we didn’t see them returning. The rumbling was constant. The sky glowed orange. It felt as if there were some big millstones where the frontline was, grinding people.

— How do people usually react to your work when you visit them?

— Soldiers care a lot about the fate of animals. They ask us to evacuate them, treat them, and bring them in for sterilization. All those who have already been affected by serious military events understand why sterilization is necessary and why animals should be vaccinated against rabies. After all, they are the ones who feed these animals and take care of them. 

For example, in the Zaporizhzhia region, particularly in Orikhiv, there have been recorded cases of rabies, and there are many foxes. We traveled there to vaccinate animals from rabies, and many people willingly came forward to get vaccines. There’s no resistance — on the contrary, people are grateful for the opportunity to vaccinate their animals.

— And who’s this joining us?

— These are Lyman and Richie — my dogs. They work here with us.

Richie is a dog from Kukhari, that heavily devastated village we visited after the Kyiv region was liberated.

We collaborate with a volunteer there who is very committed to preventing stray puppies and kittens from being born. However, due to the full-scale war, she couldn’t keep up, and Richie was born. We had to take the puppies for rehoming, but I decided to keep Richie.

And it’s clear where Lyman comes from! He’s from Lyman.

We were going on a trip to collect puppies that a soldier had asked us to evacuate, but we accidentally went to the wrong checkpoint. We explained, “We’re here for the yellow puppies.” They brought out Lyman. He’s black! A tiny puppy with no teeth. We said, “We have nowhere to take him…” and they replied, “Take him, or he’ll die here.” So we brought him with us and had to bottle-feed him. I thought about putting him up for adoption, but this little dog made me feel happy. Now he’s with me.

— Do you feel your work is making a difference?

— In Ivankiv, where we systematically sterilize stray animals, there are no unsterilized strays left. In fact, there are very few animals on the streets altogether. There were even a few seasons when people couldn’t find kittens to adopt. That’s an excellent indicator.

We’ve been to Lyman three or four times, and we’re quite pleased with the results. Most of the dogs there now have ear tags, which means they’ve been sterilized.

I also feel that our work is not in vain when people say “thank you.”

“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. 

“Kupiansk Rai”: several concrete letters have fallen from the district sign, leaving only “Rai” [“rai” means “paradise” in Ukrainian, while the original word on the sign was “Raion,” meaning “district”]. It’s hard to imagine anything more ironic.

Flags flutter in the wind. Fading inscriptions left by passersby shimmer on the painted concrete. The wind blows in our faces. My fellow veterinarians step out of the vehicle, and the dogs follow — beautiful Lyman and impossibly funny Ritchie. I capture them all on camera. A minute later, we’re back in the cars.

We dive beneath a tilted railway bridge; pieces hang over the road like something out of a movie with explosions and high-quality CGI. The car veers onto a dirt road, jostling us as clouds of dust rise.

At one point, the car dips down, leaving a few weary soldiers behind on the side — and I see water all around. Rusted remnants of the bridge jut up from the depths like the spine and ribs of a skeleton. Oskil [River]? I pull out my phone, recording a few seconds, but all that’s visible is dust, and all that’s audible is a tune on the radio, “Your heart will tell you, for it has sight. It’s him! It’s him for sure!”

Together with the veterinary team, we head toward Kivsharivka, where they will sterilize and treat animals. Thus begins the diary of these eight incredible, smoke-filled days.

Characters:

o   Nataliya Sokolova (Natalka) — Head of the Accessible Sterilization project, veterinarian.

o   Lolita Polishchuk (Lola) — Veterinary assistant.

o   Yuliya Tkachenko — Veterinarian.

o   Roman Bidnenko (Roma) — Animal catcher.

o   Oleksandr Pohrebnyi (Sasha) — Driver of the UAnimals veterinary vehicle.

o   Olha Slynko (Olya) — Volunteer.

o   Andriy Kharchyshyn (Andriy) — Manager of the UAnimals rescue department.

o   Liliya Florynska (Lilya) — Animal welfare volunteer from Kupiansk.

o   Ranok the Dog.

o   Village Council Head Vasyl Bokov — Head of the Osynovo Village Council.

o   Aunt Valya, Zina, and others.

Tuesday, September 3

The car sways wildly between the pale chalk hills, the landscape resembling a sliced Kyiv cake. 

Ahead, the Kivsharivka sign appears, painted blue and yellow. The flag flutters on it, too, though faded to a lavender hue. We head a bit south to the first spot where the mobile clinic will be set up — the village of Novoosynove.

At 2:02 p.m., we arrive. The unknown soldier [Soviet-era monuments present in virtually every village] bows slightly under an old birch tree. We park the veterinary vehicle there, hanging branches around it for cover, and carry our supplies into an abandoned outpatient clinic. In one of the rooms, military call signs and code words are pinned up. I drop my backpack there.

The clinic wall has a gaping hole, and beside it, a rose bush blooms. The roof is shattered, and torn wires dangle like garlands here and there. I walk further in. Shattered windows reveal smiles of jagged shards, and blackened streaks make it appear as if something hot has scraped the building.  The fence is scrawled with messages for the enemy. Finally, I see people — women sitting on benches surrounded by cats. “Are you a volunteer? I’d like to speak with you.”

I barely manage to explain the type of our volunteer mission before the women start sharing stories about their animals.

“Who wrote on the fence?” I ask.

“Oh, Valya wrote it while Kostya dictated. She really shouldn’t have! There are four mistakes in every word.”

On the way back, I indeed spot the inscription, “ruskiy korabil.” When I return, Roma, the animal catcher, has just arrived from his first round. Dogs and cats “spill” from the car like out of the mitten [reference to a Ukrainian fairy tale]. Well, it just seems that way — they’re actually secured in cages. These are strays that will be spayed, neutered, and treated for parasites.

One puppy is too small for a cage, so it was let to wander on the grass, waddling between the cages with little, wobbly steps. Wobble-wobble, wobble-wobble.

“We’ll vaccinate this one soon,” says Natalka. “Let’s get it on video. Can you hold it…?”

“I just need to grab my mic,” I say, but I can’t bring myself to set the puppy down.

“Hand it over here; I’ll hold it,” offers Andriy, our manager.

I start to feel a pang of jealousy.

“Why don’t you two go together?” Natalka suggests, ending the debate.

I hurry to the clinic to fetch my mic, still holding the pup. The little one shivers like an aspen leaf but obediently sits on the couch while I search for the equipment. Once ready, we vaccinate and microchip him. I capture the process on film and already feel like I’ll never let this pup go.

Meanwhile, Natalka, Lola, and Yulia begin sedating the animals in the cages and starting the surgeries. Later, these cats and dogs will be vaccinated for rabies and treated for parasites. Roma and volunteer Olya are preparing for the next round of captures. I grab my camera and barely manage to jump in the car with them.

“Turn around so it doesn’t see me!” seems to be the mantra of the day. Roma shouts it to everyone helping bring a cat or dog to the car. He holds that if the animal doesn’t see the catcher, he can safely take it from its owner and quickly place it in a cage.

We gather cats around Novoosynove and Kivsharivka. Some people hand them over; others, Roma catches with a special trap cage baited with fragrant kibbles. Some are caught barehanded, while others need a net. By dusk, we’re back with 18 cats in cages.

The veterinarians finish their surgeries: 15 animals sterilized on the first day. It may not seem like much, but we still have plenty of time ahead.

The frontline rumbles, making it impossible to sleep in the clinic tonight. We gather our things and head to the basement of a five-story building. The building seems empty, but suddenly, a woman materializes near the entrance with a bicycle. “You all need a place to wash up! There’s an empty, bombed-out apartment with a water supply. The soldiers used to go there to bathe. Oh, how long we have lived with them here! They left at one point, then returned because they were afraid Aunt Valya wasn’t around anymore. But here I am. They meet me, they wheel my bicycle up… Second floor, there’s a spoon sticking out of the lock.”

Wednesday, September 4

In the morning, I head out again with Roma, the animal catcher, and Olya. Roma drives, while Olya keeps tabs on requests coming from Andriy and occasionally Natalka, jotting them down in her notebook and managing calls on her phone. After returning animals to their owners in Novoosynove, we set off to the village of Podoly to follow up on more requests. We bump along the dirt road like wandering Bedouins on camels, the air thick with smoke.

In Podoly, we’re met by Zina, a local volunteer who shelters abandoned dogs and knows where others might be found. She’s essentially our diplomatic envoy in this village. Zina hops into the car and confidently extends her tanned finger from the window, directing us.

Our first stop is with a woman picking up her already-sterilized dog, Pushynka. The woman cries with joy when she receives her dog and again when handing over Pushynka’s puppies for sterilization. “You’ll bring them back tomorrow, right?”

Our car crawls over sand dunes left by military vehicles, reaching a neighborhood where many residents remain.

“Where’s your other cat?” one woman asks. “My comadre is still trying to catch her,” another replies. “Those are my cats,” waves a woman in a snow-white headscarf. “They’re displaced. They used to live in the military’s house over there, but then they came to me. A cat and three kittens. The soldiers left, and nobody was feeding them.”

Our conversations with people go smoothly until we arrive at the home of some local drinkers, where dogs cluster outside. Despite our diplomatic envoy doing her best, we couldn’t break through the wall of incomprehension. A man and woman shout and tell us, along with Zina, to go away. We manage to take only one dog for sterilization.

Today, we sterilized 46 animals and distributed rabies vaccines and parasite treatments — items unavailable for purchase here.

Thursday, September 5

Emerging from the basement, my eyes take a while to adjust to the light.

A rumble starts: two helicopters soar overhead, their heavy bellies skimming above me, only to return minutes later. I spot blue and yellow insignias. Hopefully, they accomplished what they set out to do.

Everything around is humming and vibrating. At the mobile clinic, our first client is Simka, a cat brought in by an older man, Oleksandr Vasylovych. He tells us he has another cat, Bilka, along with three kittens. Maybe we can catch and vaccinate them? We head to his yard together.

Under the grapevines, the kittens huddle on the seat of an old rusted moped.

“I could leave here,” Oleksandr Vasylovych laments. “I’d let my little dog go. But what about these ones? I’m in a deadlock! I don’t know what to do with them! I’ve got nowhere to go, let alone take them. If I leave, it would be to the Sumy region. But they’re not wanted there.”

We manage to catch two and carry them back. Another cat comes out. “Murchyk, come along! Today’s my birthday. I didn’t know since there’s no power, and then I charged my phone and saw that it was today.”

Meanwhile, locals continue arriving at the mobile clinic, some women bringing cats quite literally in sacks. Everyone discusses last night’s shelling in Kivsharivka. One shell hit the bus station near the kiosk where we bought food yesterday.

By late morning, I set out with Roma again to Kivsharivka and Podoly. After the strikes, the smoke was thicker. The bus station is blackened and destroyed, and patches of grass are still smoldering.

At 12:01 p.m., one of the busiest episodes of the veterinary mission begins. After returning sterilized animals to Podoly, we set off to locate a collapsed house rumored to be sheltering seven puppies. All feral, and they need to be caught to vaccinate them.

We finally locate the place: a sieve instead of a fence, and the house missing an entire wall. Piles of bricks cover the ground, while shelves stocked with canned food and household items are visible inside. Roma and I enter what used to be the kitchen — it’s dark and disorderly.

We shine our flashlights around but manage to locate only two puppies. The others dart under a gap in the floorboards, and the next 20 minutes are filled with dust and chaotic scurrying. Roma uses some kind of a rod to pry up the floor, reaching into the holes to grab the puppies by hand. They whimper, but eventually, we catch them all.

Back in Novoosynove, I set off on foot to find another store. A dull thud echoes in the distance. At an intersection, a burnt car lies under a wooden sign labeled “Store” with an arrow pointing left. I follow it. The houses along the way have warped walls, and on one, with relatively fresh pink paint, someone has scrawled, “Glory to Ukraine, death to enemies!”

“Do you have any bread?” I ask.

“No bread delivery today. Tomorrow.”

Apart from bread, they seem to have everything else.

By day’s end, we had operated on 37 animals, most of which were captured strays. We continued distributing parasite treatments.

As the sun sets, I step outside to take in the village. Tended but empty gardens stretch before me. Corn and unharvested tomatoes. Marigolds bloom everywhere.

Friday, September 6

We’re at a new location, though the village name isn’t much different — Osynovo, now on the right bank of the Oskil. Once again, we set up the mobile clinic near the village council and community center, where a crowd has already gathered. Some wait with cats and dogs for sterilization, while others simply want to chat. They sit beside us on the bench, talking, and talking, and talking… The common theme for everyone here is their dogs and cats.

Midday, soldiers bring in a dog named Sandy, who resembles a husky, for sterilization.

“She’s our sister in arms,” says Sasha, a soldier, squinting in the sun. “She’s been with us in the dugouts, the trenches… always hiding with us in the shelters. She’s been with us since she was a pup.”

Roman turns to me and asks, “Shall we head to the dump?” I nod, “Of course.”

The local dump is said to be a goldmine for catching stray animals. We arrive during the golden hour when everything is bathed in the warm glow of the low sun. Golden-tinted trash blankets the hills.

We’re followed by a man of remarkable erudition: “I know three languages,” he declares, “Ukrainian, russian, and Romani! And here’s my dog. Bomba, come here!”

Our trip to the dump is only partially successful; we manage to pick up just one dog there and another on the way back.

But today, more owners have started bringing their animals for sterilization. Altogether, we sterilize 59 cats and dogs: 33 brought in by their owners, with the rest from our animal catching rounds.

We settle in for the night at the village community center. The head of the village council brings us blankets; I lay mine beneath a poster of a Soviet soldier. There’s no Wi-Fi or phone signal here, so to catch an internet connection from the Starlink, we have to step onto the council’s porch. However, the community center houses a small library with relatively modern books. A red-painted sign above reads, “Kupiansk District! Our homeland.”

Saturday, September 7

“I brought seven cats from Kupiansk,” says volunteer Yulia, setting seven carriers in a row. “I collected them from people who can’t bring them here for sterilization on their own. Many people have left, abandoning their animals, who can’t fend for themselves. I’ve taken in one cat and four dogs. Some others, we go and feed.”

Today, animals are brought in from Kupiansk, a soldier and a few villagers come by. Later in the afternoon, I head to Kupiansk myself with Roman. We’re not alone: volunteer Lilia joins us, her notebook filled with addresses.

“How’s veterinary care here?” I ask. “Nonexistent,” Lilia replies. “It’s been about ten months without any help. Sometimes, people contact veterinarians in Kharkiv online or take animals themselves to Chuhuiv or Kharkiv. There used to be a clinic in Shevchenkove, but it’s gone too. Now, it’s only phone consultations.”

By the end of the day, the vets sterilized 67 cats and dogs.

Sunday, September 8

“This here is Sofa. She’s a sweetheart, never causes trouble,” a local woman, a mother of three, tells me about her dog. “Either way, she needs to be sterilized. It’s better for the dog and for us — otherwise, we’d have way too many dogs. I also have Lyalya. When the explosions are close, they run everywhere, barking. Sofa sleeps under my car because she’s scared of explosions.”

The wait is long, and soon, the woman shifts to sharing memories of the occupation.

“They took everyone to the basements, forced us to sing the russian anthem. Some made it out; some didn’t. It was terrifying when planes flew over the rooftops. At first, I’d huddle in a corner, clutching my head… I don’t know how I managed to pull myself together. It took them a long time to push them out of the woods. Now that our troops are here, it’s not as scary. God forbid it happens again.”

A clear autumn sky with thin, transparent clouds.

This is Prystin, the third village on our route. Here, too, we’ve set up the mobile clinic beside the village council and community center. Beneath a bench, a neat pile of shell fragments is stacked — smooth metal with jagged, torn edges.

At 5:37 p.m., the air thickens with smoke. The first puppy vaccinated during the mission sleeps, unbothered by any explosions. In Osynovo, I’ve already named him Ranok [“Morning”]. Some people sit “under the Starlink,” trying to pick up a signal. Andriy is on the phone with UAnimals manager Nastya: “I’ll text you every hour, ‘All good, all good.’”

This reassurance is necessary because it was whistling and falling nearby recently. We ducked behind a wall, though who knows what good it would’ve done.

Just afterward, our driver Sasha calls out, “Drone!” and we crouch near a birch for a few minutes.

I see people outside the village tying three cows to graze. The young women continue their surgeries while Roman is on a capture round.

In the evening, the village council head stops by again. “That drone dropped something near my house. There was some kind of another thing,  it fell in a woman’s yard. I’ll go visit her and tell you what that was. Will this one here turn out like marble?” He nods at Ranok, who indeed has a reddish coat with faint marbled patterns.

The veterinarians work late as usual: today, they’ve operated on 41 animals.

To keep the light use minimal, only the vet van stays illuminated. Once that light goes out, everything is swallowed by thick darkness. Only the sky over Kivsharivka continues to flash.

Monday, September 9

Early in the morning, something hit nearby again. I hear the village head on the phone, asking, “Could you bring a couple of canisters of water, at least? There was a strike, and we don’t want the fire spreading to the sunflowers…”

It’s the second-to-last day, so, together with Andriy, the manager, we record a video summarizing our efforts. He holds the shaggy Lyman in his arms. “The Grads [MLRS] last night were memorable,” Andriy says with a half-smile.

But it’s time to take stock for real: the vet mission has provided aid to 390 animals, most of them strays.

Tonight, there are few stars, but the moon is visible. It’s waxing but no longer a thin crescent. Its broader shape glows in the sky — a strange, blood-red hue.

Tuesday, September 10

We pack up, load Ranok into the car, and begin the slow drive back to Kharkiv with Sasha in the vet van. The veterinarians, Roma, and Andriy take a second van. The vet van has some mechanical issues, so we can only drive in second gear, giving us ample time to take in the sights of the Kharkiv region — beautiful and smoke-filled. russian radio occasionally breaks through the static.

In Kharkiv, I stop by a pet store, buy a dog carrier, and head home.

We arrive in Kyiv that evening, all of us — the veterinarians, Andriy, Sasha, and us with the dog.

Just before arrival, I text Natalka: “How are you?” “All’s well,” she replies, sending a photo from the van with a glass in hand. “Celebrating life.” And the little “marbled” dog is giving me a hard time to finish this text.

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

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

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

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

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

A Diversity of the Steppes

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That Mole Vole Ruined All Our Excavations!”

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

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

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

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

The Park After the Invasion

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

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

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

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

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

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

What Is Impacting the Park’s Ecosystem?

·       ALTERED LANDSCAPE

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

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

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

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

·     MINES

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

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

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

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

·     FIRES

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

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

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

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

·    DAM DESTRUCTION

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They Directed Fire at Us”

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

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

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

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

Reaching the Old Riverbed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nature Adapts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How the Big is Captivated by the Small

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saved by Ancient Oak Trees

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life Has Changed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sasha Tab’s Crimea

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

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

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

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

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

Nataliya Zhyzhchenko’s Chornobyl

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anton Ptushkin’s Tuzly Lagoons

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anhelina Usanova’s Askania-Nova

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

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

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

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

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

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

Olha Martynovska’s Kinburn Spit 

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

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

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

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

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

Polina Uvarova’s Kyianytsia

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

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

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

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

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

Sasha Shabalina’s Dzharylhach

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Black and Azov Seas are home to three species of dolphins, each suffering in its own way due to russian aggression. What do we already know about how military actions affect them, and how can we help nature endure? Pavlo Holdin, a zoologist, ecologist, and expert on modern and extinct marine mammals, sheds light on these issues.

Currently, there are many conflicting reports regarding the number of dolphins killed since the full-scale invasion began. Some say 50,000, others mention 60,000 or more, while some believe these numbers are exaggerated. What do you think?

Any number mentioned right now—whether it is 10 dolphins or 100,000—has no scientific basis whatsoever. In 2019, Ukrainian researchers conducted an extensive aerial survey of the Black Sea. After the war, after our victory, we can fly again and cover all our waters, including those around Crimea. That will give us an idea of where dolphin populations have increased or decreased and how many remain in total, and then we can assess how many may have died. 

Until then, I believe it is premature to draw definitive conclusions. For now, the figures we [the Institute of Zoology of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine and the Ukrainian Scientific Center of Ecology of Sea] provide relate to the bodies of animals found onshore. Of course, this assessment can and should be supplemented in the future with ecological modeling and extrapolated to estimate total losses.

So, what confirmed data do we have?

In 2022, more than 900 cases of dolphin deaths were recorded in the Black Sea region. This includes Ukraine, Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, and Georgia. Naturally, this does not cover all the incidents, but it is a starting point for analysis and modeling. 

It is also important to note that we only work with verified photos and video recordings of deceased dolphins. Whenever we receive such materials, we verify them to ensure they are not fake, as media reports have sometimes falsely claimed sightings of dead dolphins that turned out to be from different locations or times.

Can I assume that such disinformation, especially if coming from russians, aims to undermine and discredit ecocide documentation efforts?

I do not know. But if we look at the official russian discourse, they try to downplay the scale of the deaths and claim nothing is happening, even when a dolphin carcass washes ashore in the center of Sevastopol.

There is a significant difference between their official and unofficial narratives. Their only similarity is that both are lies.

Can we identify an event or series of events that are most likely causing dolphin deaths?

The only cautious conclusion I can make is that the animals are dying for various reasons. It is unlikely we’ll find that all the deaths stem from a single cause. 

To draw an analogy, though it may seem imperfect, let us look at how war affects people. There are direct life-threatening factors, such as bombardment with various weapons. But people also die from heart attacks, strokes, or from not receiving timely medical care, lacking clean water, or from increased infection rates. 

When forensic pathologists examine the deceased, they find various causes of death, but investigators and prosecutors may conclude that the root cause is war.

The same applies to wildlife, including dolphins. There are multiple threats to their lives and health. Missile launches from surface and underwater naval vessels, whether successful or not, pose a danger. A failed missile that crashes into the sea contaminates the dolphins’ environment with rocket fuel. Even a missile that was successfully launched underwater exposes the animals to harmful noise. Speaking of noise pollution, another source is russian radar systems, which also harm marine mammals. Thus, due to the war, animals are suffering from both acoustic trauma and chemical pollution.

Stress is another threat to the animals. And it is not just the dolphins that are stressed; the fish they feed on are too. To put it simply, the fish get scared and move away, and the dolphins follow. This migration into unfamiliar conditions increases the risk of them getting caught in fishing nets.

There is also speculation that dolphins can suffer from concussions even far from combat zones. A recent article in Science suggested that mild concussions might be a possible cause of whale strandings around the world. While we need technologically complex studies to confirm this, it is not something we can rule out as being connected to the war.

The destruction of sewage systems or larger-scale events, such as the russian military’s destruction of the Kakhovka dam, is also dangerous for dolphins. These incidents release large amounts of organic matter into the sea—from agricultural fertilizers to sewage from cities. This raises the risk of infectious diseases and provides the conditions for phenomena like “red tides,” massive algal blooms. Some of these algae release toxins into the sea.

If a dolphin washes ashore in Bulgaria or Georgia, for example, can this also be linked to the war?

Biological and veterinary analyses are needed to confirm that. When we study what is happening to dolphins in the Black Sea, we must consider everything, because there are no state borders for animals. The impact might occur within our economic zone, say, halfway between Snake Island and Crimea, but the aftermath could manifest in Bulgaria or Turkey.

Then, it is important to establish cooperation with other countries to jointly assess the effects of the war on marine animals. Is such cooperation in place, and how does it work?

Yes, cooperation has been established. Colleagues in Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, and Georgia perform autopsies on dead dolphins, conduct laboratory analyses, and share their data and findings with us. 

However, as in Ukraine, the capabilities for such research are limited in all Black Sea countries: no government funds autopsies or analyses. Scientists carry out these studies only when they can and out of their own initiative. 

Considering that dolphin bodies decompose quickly, very few are suitable for autopsy. As a result, the data we receive is quite scarce.

As far as I know, dolphins are at the top of the food chain. How does their death affect the Black Sea ecosystem?

Yes, dolphins are at the top of the food web. We use the term “web” because it is not a single chain but a network of interconnected chains. 

Dolphins are considered keystone species, meaning that top predators like them stabilize entire ecosystems. In the Black Sea, dolphins regulate fish populations, and in turn, fish control the populations of zooplankton, phytoplankton, crustaceans, etc.

So, if dolphins are absent (or too few), fish begin reproducing uncontrollably. When there are too many fish, they deplete zooplankton, and that leads to the unchecked growth of microalgae. The toxins from these algae can kill both zooplankton and fish. In the end, we end up with a sea overrun by algae where little else can survive. 

Moreover, when dolphins die out, their place is often taken by jellyfish or, even worse, comb jellies. There have been cases in history where the mass death of dolphins led to ecological disasters.

In the 80s and 90s, up to 90% of Black Sea dolphins perished. This was caused by the dolphin hunting industry, which thrived until 1983. Around the same time, a species of comb jelly, Mnemiopsis, entered the Black Sea through ballast water. With no competition, it multiplied rapidly—an aggressive spread of an alien species is known scientifically as a bioinvasion. As a result, in the 1990s, Mnemiopsis consumed the eggs of almost all common fish species, and anchovy catches dropped 100 to 200 times by 1991. It was even said the Black Sea could become a dead one.

Ironically, the dolphin population recovered partly due to another bioinvasion, an accidental one at that. In 1997–1999, another species of comb jelly, Beroe, was introduced into the Black Sea, and it fed on Mnemiopsis.

In your opinion, how difficult will it be to restore the dolphin population after the war?

Ukraine is home to various dolphin populations. We have three species: the harbor porpoise, the common dolphin, and the bottlenose dolphin. Each species has its own life cycle, lifespan, reproduction rate, and so forth.

As of now, the common dolphin, is doing relatively well. This species is mostly found in the open sea and stays away from the coast.

On the other hand, the harbor porpoise suffers greatly due to human activity. Although no one hunts it intentionally, it often gets accidentally caught in fishing nets. Each year, 12,000–16,000 porpoises die this way, one of the highest rates in the world. Due to this constant pressure, porpoises reproduce quickly: females give birth almost every year and reach sexual maturity at just three years of age, or perhaps even earlier now.

In contrast, the Black Sea bottlenose dolphin reproduces much more slowly, giving birth only once every three years, and reaching sexual maturity at 5–6 years, sometimes even later. This species is listed as endangered and is the largest dolphin in our waters with the smallest population.

Bottlenose dolphins are divided into several local groups. Some groups can be large, numbering in the hundreds, while others are much smaller. For example, near Dzharylhach Island, between 2016 and 2020, we studied a group of fewer than 50 bottlenose dolphins.

Bottlenose dolphins have strong cultural traditions and sophisticated social relationships—they are highly attached to their home territory. If some russian soldiers were to shoot them near Dzharylhach, the dolphins would simply disappear from that area, leaving it desolate for decades.

Therefore, even if we assume that the overall dolphin population in the Black Sea recovers, it does not mean that each small group of bottlenose dolphins will survive. It is entirely possible that while things may look fine in the center of the sea, the situation near the shores—particularly near our shores—will be much worse. And it is crucial to understand this: the bottlenose dolphin population cannot be replenished in captivity. Second-generation offspring simply do not get born in captivity.

Thus, bottlenose dolphins are the most at risk, especially in peripheral areas where fighting occurs, and even in areas without direct combat.

What non-combat measures negatively affect them?

The russians are distorting nature. They do not just destroy dams—they build new ones, and that is bad.

They constructed a causeway between Dzharylhach Island and the occupied mainland of Ukraine. Fortunately, nature took care of it: in 2023, a massive storm washed it away. But that causeway posed a threat to the Dzharylhach Bay ecosystem by blocking the water exchange with the open sea.

As for the Kerch Bridge, it does not just threaten nature—it has already caused harm. 

Firstly, its construction generated severe acoustic pollution, harmful to dolphins.

Secondly, there is now a dam between Tuzla Island and the Caucasian shore, damaging the ecosystem of the Taman Bay and the Kerch Strait, where small herds of bottlenose dolphins live. It also endangers the entire ecosystem of the Sea of Azov, home to a unique population of harbor porpoises.

What can Ukraine do to protect Black Sea marine mammals? How can we at least reduce our own negative impact on them?

Scientists propose three main areas of work, which align with the international convention that came into force in Ukraine back in 2003.

• The first is to reduce accidental dolphin deaths. We can learn from the experience of Romania and Bulgaria, where special devices are installed on fishing nets to deter harbor porpoises.
• The second is to expand the network of protected areas. This requires political will since it requires legislative changes. It is crucial to start this process now, even during the war, and especially to create these protected marine areas in Crimean waters.
• The third area is to strengthen government control over pollution sources—biological, chemical, and acoustic. This is not about punishment but about systemic recommendations. In other words, experts should be present to say, “Do not operate here right now because fish are coming,” or “This area is clear for operations.”

Will the abolition of dolphinariums affect the dolphin population? 

It will, and significantly. We do not have large herds of bottlenose dolphins like in the Pacific, where they number in the thousands. Our groups are small, each with its own routes and feeding grounds. When a dolphinarium poacher catches five bottlenose dolphins, it can have fatal consequences for the entire group.

For our country, dolphinariums are evil. Public pressure is key here—going to dolphinariums should become bad taste.

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 photo: NGL media. Photographer: Maxym Kozmenko

In early May, a forest in the Chornobyl Biosphere Reserve became the scene of another tragic incident. Border guards heard an explosion near their post. When they deployed a drone equipped with a thermal camera, the image it captured was heartbreaking: a rare Przewalski’s horse, listed as an endangered species, had triggered a landmine.

This year, Ukraine’s Minister of Environmental Protection and Natural Resources stated that our country is the most heavily mined in the world. Forests, meadows, and waterways in the east, north, and south of Ukraine are not only littered with mines planted by the invaders; Ukrainian forces have also laid explosives to defend the borders.

Mines in Nature Parks 

Serhiy Kubrakov, director of the Desna-Stara Huta National Nature Park, periodically visits the ruined Desnyanka camp. There, he photographs an unexploded Grad MLRS rocket. “This rocket has been lying on the porch of one building for a year and a half,” says Kubrakov. “Fishermen have also reported unexploded Grad [rockets] stuck in the riverbank. This is what we’ve found. Who knows how much more is out there, embedded in the ground?”

A map reveals the extent of the danger: red zones mark areas that are mined or potentially dangerous, while yellow indicates possible mine contamination. 

Many nature parks and reserves fall within these red zones. In the Sumy region, for example, national parks like Desna-Stara Huta, Hetman National Park, and Trostianets, along with the regional Seymskiy Park, are affected. In Kharkiv Oblast, the Dvorichna National Nature Park is also under threat.

The State Emergency Service of Ukraine notes that natural areas, regardless of their ecological value, are demined last. In liberated territories, deminers prioritize areas where people live first, followed by roads and critical infrastructure. Only afterward do they move on to agricultural land and, finally, forests, meadows, and water bodies.

Even if deminers were ready to begin clearing natural areas today, most of these places are accessible only to the military. Fighting continues in many forests and near river floodplains, making humanitarian demining impossible under fire.

The Desna-Stara Huta park stretches along the state border with the Russian terrorist state. It includes the floodplains of the Desna River, which are partially accessible to park employees. However, the Stara Huta forests along the border are heavily mined by both Ukrainian and Russian forces.

“There have been incidents where our border guards nearly triggered anti-tank and anti-personnel mines. Enemy sabotage groups frequently enter the area, setting up booby traps and planting anti-personnel mines,” Kubrakov explains.

The park is littered with not only mines but also unexploded ordnance. While there is no official prohibition from emergency services, Kubrakov warns, “You can head in any direction, but it’s a one-way trip. Besides the mines, there are also Russian saboteurs. Last year, they shot at a milk truck and killed 10 people, including pensioners.”

Another park in the Sumy region, Seymskiy, is constantly shelled from the Russian side of the border, and its riverbanks are reportedly heavily mined.

Dvorichna Park on the Oskil River in the Kharkiv region, adjacent to the border, currently lies in an active combat zone. “We have no access to the area; it’s constantly under fire. The extent of the mining is unknown,” said park employees.

The first park close to the front lines where demining has begun is Holy Mountains in the Donetsk region. Almost the entire territory was liberated in October. After demining, park management plans to plow firebreaks—strips of land cleared of brush and other flammable materials. This will help prevent forest fires caused by shelling.

Forests near the Belarusian border are partially accessible to park staff and visitors, but they, too, are heavily mined. Blueberry and mushroom pickers are warned by special signs, although some have tried to use them as firewood or even as stakes for their tomato plants. Nevertheless, most foragers stay clear of the dangerous areas.

Do Animals Trigger Mines?

“These incidents are not uncommon, though they don’t happen daily. Since the death of the Przewalski’s horse, we haven’t recorded any similar cases,” says Yuriy Shakhraychuk, a press officer with the 9th Border Detachment.

In February of this year, near Makariv in the Kyiv region, a moose triggered a booby trap. A similar incident occurred in May in the Chornobyl Exclusion Zone, where a female moose was killed by a mine, and her calf, despite the efforts to save it, also died.

“In 2022, we spent a week working with combat engineers near Bakhmut,” recalls an infantryman from the 30th Brigade who wished to remain anonymous. “The combat engineers were setting up tripwires throughout that time. Every night, some animal would trigger them. It could be a fox, a boar, or a hare. We were expecting an enemy advance, but by the time they attacked, almost all the tripwires had been triggered.”

However, documented cases of animals triggering mines are few, as it’s challenging to confirm what exactly happens in remote, mine-filled forests. “I’m always in touch with the military. They report that sometimes in the forest, where there are certainly no people, isolated explosions can be heard. It’s highly likely that wild animals are triggering these tripwires. No one would dare investigate an explosion in the middle of the forest, as it could cost them their life,” explains Serhiy Kubrakov, director of the Desna-Stara Huta Park.

Before the full-scale invasion, the park was home to bears, lynxes, capercaillies, numerous moose, and even occasional bison and deer. Whether these animals still inhabit the forests is unknown, says Kubrakov: “The entire territory needs to be surveyed. We don’t know how the fighting has affected animal populations, including rare species. Once we regain even limited access to these areas, such as along cleared paths, we can start drawing conclusions.”

Mines pose a threat not only in forests but also in water. From March 2022 to July this year, 68 carcasses of Black Sea cetaceans were found in the Tuzly Lagoons, according to the Ministry of Environmental Protection. The likely causes of death include bombings and underwater mines. If the animals didn’t die immediately, they succumbed later from their injuries.

What Types of Mines Threaten Animals and When?

“The corpses of animals with limb or torso injuries are a telltale sign of a minefield, something all soldiers are trained to recognize,” says Yuriy, known by his call sign Ram.

Yuriy is a professional soldier. Although he’s not a combat engineer by training, he has learned just about everything about mine safety. He became an instructor in this field with the Ukrainian Legion, a civil society organization that has been teaching basic military skills since 2014. He explains the dangers that mines pose to living creatures in forests, meadows, rivers, and seas.

Not every animal that touches a mine or unexploded ordnance will cause an explosion. If a mine is pressure-sensitive, the outcome depends on the animal’s weight and whether it is walking or running. Each mine has an activation force (or sensitivity) measured in kilograms. For example, if a mine’s sensitivity is 5 kilograms, something weighing that much or more must press on it to trigger an explosion.

Pressure-Sensitive Mines

Yuriy shows pictures of deadly “tin cans” on his rugged military laptop. The international Ottawa Convention, which Ukraine has signed, prohibits our forces from laying anti-personnel mines. Russia is not a signatory to the convention.

Some of the most common anti-personnel mines laid by Russians in Ukrainian fields and forests are PMN and PMN-2, with sensitivity ranges of 8–25 kilograms. PMN-4 mines, with a sensitivity of 5–15 kilograms, are also frequently encountered. These mines pose a danger to many wild mammals, except the very smallest: hares (4–10 kg), foxes (3–14 kg), wolves (45–60 kg), wild boars (60–200 kg), roe deer (20–37 kg), and moose (360–600 kg). These mines can be dangerous for years before they are defused.

“Butterfly” mines (PFM) are used along the entire frontline. They are launched in large numbers from special dispensers and scatter randomly on the ground. Spotting a mine of this type is difficult: they are small, made of plastic, and even those who deploy them don’t know exactly where they land. While these mines usually don’t kill, they can cause severe bleeding and suffering. Their activation force ranges from 5 to 25 kilograms.

Anti-vehicle mines, which detonate under pressure, have higher sensitivity thresholds: the TM-57 mine requires 200 kilograms to activate, while the TM-62 series is triggered at as low as 120 kilograms. Some of these mines are cylindrical, while others resemble tin cans, similar to anti-personnel mines.

Anti-vehicle mines pose a threat to larger animals. “You won’t find these mines in dense forests, but they might be placed on clearings or roads,” says Yuriy. “If a moose decides to take a well-trodden path instead of trudging through the underbrush, it could be fatal.” These mines can also be set in steppe areas—anywhere without bogs or steep slopes.

Mines with seismic, magnetic, and infrared sensors are also used. These theoretically respond only to vehicles.

Mines with Tripwires

A tripwire is a wire or fishing line that connects a detonator to a tripwire-activated mine. Anyone who triggers the wire causes an immediate explosion. The tripwire can be set at a low level, where it might catch a crawling hedgehog or at shoulder height for a human. Any animal that exerts enough force to trigger the tripwire will most likely be killed.

Russians frequently use the OZM-72 mine, another elongated “can.” It is buried in the ground, with the detonator connected to a tripwire. This mine has a sensitivity of 500 grams. If an animal or person touches the tripwire, the mine jumps out of the ground, explodes in the air, and strikes the victim with shrapnel.

The most sensitive mine commonly encountered is the POM-2. These mines are deployed through remote mining systems, which scatter them across the ground. A tin can with explosives lands on the ground, with four tripwire darts falling around it. “They scatter chaotically; one might land on a tree, another on a flower, and one could just lie on the ground. You stumble on it, pull the wire with a force of 350 grams… Even a hedgehog can do that,” Yuriy explains. This mine has a self-destruct mechanism that should activate no later than 100 hours after deployment.

Mines in the Water

Anti-landing mines (YaRM) are grayish cans hidden beneath the water’s surface. They are equipped with a cross-shaped sensor, also submerged. There is little to no chance of spotting one. The trigger force for these mines is 600 grams. Mines like these can be found in the Dnipro River and its tributaries in the Kherson region, “The explosion causes a powerful hydrodynamic shock, killing many fish.”

Another danger in coastal areas or shallow waters is the PDM-1M mine. It is a semi-sphere with a rod that is usually covered by water. If the rod is displaced with a force of 18 kilograms or more, the mine will explode. “Over time, these mines can break free from their anchors and drift out to sea after a storm. The destruction of the Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Plant sent many mines into the Black Sea, where they drifted towards Turkey and Odesa. If a mine breaks loose, it will float like a buoy until it hits something. That could be a dolphin or a person who brushes against it with their hand or an oar.” At a few meters’ distance, the mine will kill anything nearby, while those farther away may suffer concussions.

Why You Shouldn’t Go Mushroom Picking in Former Combat Zones

“‘I won’t go mushroom picking in the forest,’ is an old combat engineer’s favorite saying,” Yuriy quips darkly. Until deminers provide a qualified assessment that an area is clear, entering it is off-limits, he warns. “There could be countless tripwires… Some might have been disarmed by the military, but others could have been missed. A mine might be buried in the ground, camouflaged by turf, grass, or branches, making it impossible to detect without special equipment. Plus, a soldier carries two tourniquets with them. But a mushroom picker goes with just a knife and a basket… If this person triggers a mine, they could bleed out in the forest. The phone might not work, there’s no tourniquet—and then what?”

While animals can trigger tripwires or set off anti-personnel mines, the primary danger mines pose is to humans, “If a mine is lying under the snow, a hedgehog might crawl over it without issue. But a person, thinking they can follow the tracks—’a hedgehog passed here, so can I’—will be in danger. The hedgehog weighs a kilogram, but a person weighs 80.”

There are also mines that can explode just by a person approaching them, like the POM-3 mine with a seismic sensor. For this mine to detonate, one doesn’t need to step on it or trigger a tripwire. The seismic sensor detects the vibrations from a person’s steps and activates the detonator.

When Will We Be Mine-Free?

Let’s take a look at the map again and find the Falkland Islands in the Atlantic. For two and a half months in 1982, a war raged between Britain and Argentina over control of these islands. The intensity of combat was lower than in Ukraine, and the Falklands’ area is almost 50 times smaller than Ukraine’s. Yet it wasn’t until 2020 that the UK officially declared the islands fully demined—38 years later.

Some mines self-destruct after a certain period. Those without a self-destruct mechanism will remain a hazard for years, “These things can stay in a ready-to-kill state for decades. Metal and plastic can take years to decompose. Even if something is done incorrectly and water leaks inside, it won’t affect the mine’s lethality,” says Yuriy.

When will it be safe to go mushroom picking across all of Ukraine? 

Predictions after the first year of the war estimated hundreds of years. As new technologies and vehicles have been acquired and more demining operators have begun working in Ukraine, those hundreds of years have been reduced to decades.

According to calculations by James Cowan, CEO of the Halo Trust is a charitable organization that performs humanitarian demining. HALO Trust, one day of fighting in Ukraine equates to a month of demining. So, for now, we are at least 75 years away from being able to pick mushrooms safely in the Stara Huta forest.

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.

Our first attempt to talk with Viktor Vorotnikov, a veterinarian and head of the Veterinarians Without Borders organization from Krasnohrad, Kharkiv region, was put off. “I have surgeries starting soon, sorry. They will take the whole day,” explained the doctor. However, we managed to connect the next day. “Convenient or not—if I promised, I have to keep it,” Viktor laughed.

On the day we couldn’t speak, he was in Izium, where he, along with two assistants and another veterinarian, performed around 70 surgeries. Last year alone, his clinic team sterilized up to 15,000 animals. Since the start of the full-scale war, Viktor and his colleagues have operated on over 5,000 animals rescued during sterilization missions and UAnimals evacuation trips.

What is it like, to save animals affected by war? Does the veterinarian witness more humanity or indifference? Viktor shared his experiences.

— How did you connect your life with veterinary medicine?

— I have dreamed of saving animals since childhood! Even in play, I pretended to treat rabbits—one had an “earache,” another had a “sore leg.” As I grew up, these games became my daily reality. I first studied at a vocational school in the veterinary department, then graduated from the Kharkiv Veterinary Institute. I’ve been in this profession for 42 years.

Now, I work in my own clinic and in the field. We have two mobile surgery units, so we travel to frontline areas. In 5-6 days on such a mission, we manage to operate on at least 300, sometimes even 600 animals.

We sterilize some, while others need treatment for injuries. I also provide consultations during these missions, advising people on how to care for their animals, what vaccinations they need, and when. Outside of surgeries, I see up to 80 patients a day. I often help animals with concussions. It’s similar to treating humans—they need rest, care, and medications that relieve pain and symptoms.

— Do you notice how animals are treated in areas close to the combat zone during these trips?

— I encounter a lot of human indifference. Sometimes, for example, animals are left chained up. I understand that in wartime, anything can happen—perhaps the animals’ caretakers were caught in shelling or had to leave quickly. But at least unchain the dog! 

Still, there’s more kindness. 

I’m always struck by the soldiers who bring us cats and dogs. Recently, they brought us a cat named Vasya with fractures of everything that could be broken. He’s currently living at our clinic, receiving treatment, and waiting for his caretaker to return from the frontline.

Soldiers risk their lives, but don’t forget to help the most vulnerable. Then, they call us to check on the animals because they worry about them. 

Sometimes, I think this helps the soldiers themselves, too—it distracts them from the horrors of war by allowing them to focus on helping.

— Over your 42 years in this profession, have you noticed changes in how animals are treated?

— Absolutely! Especially towards stray animals. The attitude used to be very harsh—they could even be shot. Now, there are far more initiatives to control their population humanely. Our organization, Veterinarians Without Borders, was one of the first to implement such a program. Since 2017, we have been catching, sterilizing, vaccinating, and microchipping cats and dogs and then releasing them. We’ve done this in seven regions in the East of Ukraine, and I’ve personally participated in these missions.

— What advice would you give to those who rescue animals near the frontline?

— It’s very simple: safety first. When rescuing animals, you must think about your own life, too. 

I conduct first aid training for volunteers and always urge them to plan everything in advance. You need to be prepared for any unforeseen situation and know how to help an animal in those conditions.

Consider the types of injuries animals might have (gunshot wounds, concussions, fractures) and have all the necessary supplies with you. Also, keep in mind that sometimes animals need to be rescued from water or may flee into mined areas. In such cases, special equipment will be needed. 

This is serious and dangerous work, not just a “photo op.” Even a sincere desire to help isn’t enough. So if you plan to volunteer there, consult with professionals—those who have already worked near the frontline. This will help you avoid mistakes that could cost you your life.

— From your experience, which animals are the hardest to evacuate?

— Evacuating any animal is challenging in its own way. There are frightened, aggressive dogs that need to be unchained first. Sometimes an animal has to be pulled out of a pit before it can be evacuated. 

But in my opinion, the hardest animals to save are those with underlying health issues. Sometimes we find animals with anorexia or starving from hunger. Transporting them is extremely difficult—you must carefully plan the evacuation, ensuring access to oxygen and water.

— Do you have any pets of your own?

— Of course! I treated them myself, too, by the way.

— Розкажіть про них, будь ласка.

— Please tell us about them, please.

— There’s my cat, Harik, a Sphynx who was evacuated from Vuhledar. He’s a large, dignified cat with a stern look but very gentle and well-mannered. 

I also have a wonderful little dog, Tobik. He was hit by a car, and this little guy—a toy terrier—had a pelvic fracture and a prolapsed intestine. There was little hope that we could save him. But Tobik survived, and now he’s such a great friend!

— Lastly, could you share what discourages you in your work and what inspires you?

— Well, what inspires me, of course, is when a difficult surgery ends successfully.

What discourages me… It’s the indifference of people towards animals and nature. 

For example, in 2020, we rescued a bear that an oligarch had “played with” until he got bored. The animal lived in a cramped enclosure. When we saw her, the bear was already paralyzed in her hind legs and was extremely emaciated. We consulted with colleagues from other countries on how to help her and shared her test results. Everyone unanimously said she wouldn’t survive. But we managed to stabilize her enough to place her in Natalia Popova’s Wild Animal Rescue Center. The bear lived there for another two years before passing away just before the full-scale invasion began.

What discourages me now is how all living things are suffering because of Russia. What can I say? If we save the natural world, we save ourselves as well. That’s what I believe.

“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.

“Is that a bang,” asks the bearded man sitting in the dugout. “Don’t worry, no one’s going to hurt you… You’ll be safe and warm here.” He is talking to a kitten. You might recognize this scene. The soldier shared the video on his TikTok page, where it has already garnered nearly three million views.

The man in the video is Vitaliy Petrov, a tank platoon commander. Before the full-scale war, he lived in Kyiv, working as a driver—first as an employee and later as an entrepreneur. His family dog, Aiza, stayed behind in the rear. While on the front lines, he found himself caring for a cat, who soon became a social media sensation.

Vitaliy adopted the call sign “Joker,” after the DC Comics villain, who had a companion named Harley Quinn. Fittingly, Joker’s real-life black kitten is named Harley.

At the time of our conversation, Vitaliy’s unit had been holding the same frontline position for five months, with Harley living there for four of those months. 

Joker mentions that Harley “spiced things up” on TikTok, where he now has over 125,000 followers who offer tips on cat care and even send food for her. Our call connects. Joker’s camera shows us his dugout.

— Is the cat with you now?

— Yes, she’s having lunch over there.

— I’ve rewatched that video of you holding her as a kitten about 15 times…

— Yeah, there were some heavy shellings back then. I found her terrified and brought her into the dugout. I talked to her, and she listened so intently—it was unbelievable. Even after the shelling ended, she didn’t leave the dugout for another hour.

— How did she find you?

— When we first arrived at this position, there was a pregnant cat here. One of our unit members is a vet, so he helped deliver the kittens. Once they grew up and started running around, I took a liking to a little black one. That’s how I got her. 

Joked had his Harley, so I named her the same.

Harley has lived with us in the dugout all her life. The other kittens run around outside, and she used to run off with them, too, but now she’s become quite the house cat. 

I feed her, and she eats with the other cats while we leave for work. When we return, the other four cats scurry off, but Harley sits there like she owns the place, totally unbothered.

— How did you manage to tame her when the other cats stayed feral?

— Harley’s a bit of a disaster, to be honest. If there’s wire anywhere, she’ll find a way to get tangled in it. I’ve had to rescue her countless times.

Once, I’d just returned from my post and was resting when a comrade burst in, shouting, “Grab a knife and come with me!” I said, “Why a knife? I’ve got a rifle.” He insisted, “No, grab a knife!” I said, “Let’s do the rifle! Are we going into hand-to-hand combat or what?” He said, “Your silly little thing hanged herself, come quick!” I ran after him, and sure enough, Harley was hanging on the net. She was above the dugout, fell down, and was caught by her neck. I cut her free, she was trembling all over. I took her into my arms, and she calmed down.

I don’t know exactly how I managed to tame her. Maybe she lets herself be touched because I kept finding her and showing her love.

— Does she show you love in return?

— Oh, it’s incredible. Every morning, there’s a whole ritual. When I get ready for work, Harley comes over and starts meowing. She won’t stop until I pet her and let her rub against my face, like giving her a kiss of sorts. She just can’t let me gear up and go to work in peace. She demands attention before she’ll let me go, like, “Fine, you can go, but not for long.” She also goes to the other guys for a pet, but when I lie down to rest, she comes to my bed only.

— What’s a typical day like with her?

— Some days, there’s a ton of work and others, you just get up and monitor the perimeter of your zone of responsibility. There are firefights, fending off attacks. During those times, I don’t lock her away because if I do, she gets even more anxious.

She mostly stays in or around the dugout. Meanwhile, we do our job a little away. Once, I was on my post, and she came to visit. I was shocked. I petted her, but then I took her back because we don’t need that—she could give away our position. 

Orlans [Russian drones] can see everything very well with their cameras. If they see dogs or a bunch of cats, they know there are people nearby. We don’t need to let them know it.

— Does Harley have a favorite spot?

— When I’m lying on the bed, her favorite spot is on my chest, just near my shoulder. She lies down there and goes to sleep.

— How does she react to the shelling?

— She was scared as a kitten, but now, not so much. The only time she gets fussy is when she sees me putting on my armor and grabbing my weapon. She knows I’m leaving, and she shows her displeasure.

— Does she affect your mood?

— Definitely! When I used to be looking for her when she was a kitten, I was beside myself with joy when I found this little ball of happiness. 

During shelling, it was the other way, I’d worry that something could hit her…

— Can she cheer up others?

— Without her, it would be duller. We reminisce with the guys about how we were scrambling under fire to find Harley.

When I couldn’t find her for a week, it really got me down. But then I’d see her mom, and I’d think, “Okay, they must be nearby.” That cheered me up.

Sometimes, we’ll be sitting together with the guys, and Harley will come over, bothering everyone, meowing. Once someone acknowledges her and talks to her, she’s happy. She’ll either curl up somewhere or sit and listen.

— In the videos, you talk to her so sweetly. Don’t your comrades tease you about it?

— At first, they joked, “Did you replace your wife’s attention with that of a cat?” They even called me the “cat dad.” Think what you will, let it be so. But frankly speaking, you can’t endure war without humor.

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.

Veterinarian Andrew Kushnir sits in the lobby of a Kyiv hotel with a huge yellow backpack and several bags. “You never know what to bring to Ukraine; you might need anything,” he shrugs.

Andrew has long lived out of a suitcase. He volunteered at a shelter in India before he even studied to become a veterinarian, and while studying, he herded buffaloes in Zakarpattia during breaks. He spent several months at wildlife centers in Costa Rica. After our meeting in Kyiv, Andrew visited Kherson on a spay/neuter mission and has already returned to the United States to operate on an injured alligator and a snake that swallowed a golf ball.

Andrew travels the world, moving from one project to another. But he visits Ukraine most often, as his family originates from here.

A surgeon in animal shelters; an amateur musician who plays the bandura; a volunteer who sails to African islands to treat the livestock of local residents… And this all describes one person. It’s no wonder I didn’t want to miss the moment when Andrew was still sitting among his packed bags in a Kyiv hotel.

Andrew or Andriy?

We could stay at the hotel, but Andrew is restless: we set off for a café, but the central streets are closed, and the journey along the hilly right bank of the Dnipro in Kyiv takes almost an hour. It seems I grew more tired during this time than he did. We spoke in Ukrainian all the way, and upon arrival, we switched to English.

You’ve just arrived in Kyiv. Where have you been before you came here? 

I was in Lviv at the Home of Rescued Animals shelter, working with the Worldwide Vets organization. We were spaying and neutering dogs and cats, and treating wounds, infections, and doing some surgeries with wildlife.

This is my fifth time in Ukraine.

I see you have a tattoo, where did you get it?

When I was little, my grandmother embroidered a shirt for me. The tattoo reminds me of this. I had it done at the beginning of the full-scale invasion in Lviv.

Can you tell us about your Ukrainian origin?

My father was born outside of Dnipro in a small village called Spaske during World War II. After two years, he and his family were taken to Germany for forced labor. After the war, he lived for 10 years in a refugee camp. Then, after 10 years, he came to the US with his father, mother, and two brothers. I have two sisters and a brother. My mother is American, but she understands some Ukrainian.

We spoke Ukrainian. How is it that you know our language?

When I was little, my parents founded a Ukrainian church in San Diego. There was also a school where we studied the Ukrainian language and culture. The church and school are no longer there.

Do you practice anything related to Ukrainian culture?

I play the bandura. Our family had a friend who was also from Ukraine and played the bandura very well. He was like an uncle to me. He taught me how to play this instrument. We ordered a bandura from Kharkiv, and I started playing at the age of five. I’ve been playing for over 30 years now.

What’s your favorite song?

Dumy Moyi and Shchedryk. I also sing. By the way, I sometimes cook borshch too.

The Nomad Vet 

How did you decide to become a veterinary doctor?

Well, a book. I read a book called Appointment at the Ends of the World, which is the memoir of a wildlife veterinarian. He traveled around the world to very remote places to work with very exotic species. I read the book and thought, wow, that’s incredible; that’s what I want to do in life. 

Ever since I decided to become a veterinarian, I have wanted to work with vulnerable animal populations around the world. I felt that I could make a big difference in not just animals’ lives but also people’s lives by helping those kinds of animal populations. These are animals on the streets and in shelters, but I also work a lot with wildlife—essentially with animals who don’t have anyone advocating for their health. 

I work in different countries in different settings, and I’m always adapting to the situation. So, it’s always new. I’m always learning more and more.

What does your everyday life look like?

It depends on a month. This month, I’m in Ukraine working with shelters. When I go home, I’ll work at wildlife centers in Florida with birds, tigers, dogs, and cats. Then, I’ll go to Uganda to work with chimpanzees for a month to help with health checks and make sure that they are ok and healthy. And then I’ll go back to California for 3 or 4 months just to stay with my family and work with dogs and cats. Then, hopefully, come back to Ukraine to do more spaying and neutering.

I’m self-employed. I do a lot of volunteer work. This whole trip to Ukraine is volunteer work. In fact, I’ve saved money back home to come to Ukraine and work. If I work with organizations, I do get paid, but it depends on the project.

What’s the most unusual place you have been to?

Uganda is a pretty unique place. I go to a chimpanzee sanctuary in Lake Victoria on Ngamba Island every July. Victoria is the largest lake in Africa. It’s huge. And there is an island sanctuary where 50 chimpanzees live. Every July, I work with the team to conduct their annual health checks to make sure they are healthy and monitor diseases. This year, when we finish with chimpanzees, I’ll be going to other islands to set up mobile veterinary clinics to help people with their cows and goats, pigs, chickens, dogs, and cats. We’ll take a little boat with people from the chimpanzee island, and we’ll land at different parts of different islands. We’ll set up the tables and all our equipment, and then we’ll invite people with animals to come.

This is the first time I’m doing this – it’s a pilot project. So I wasn’t able to get any donations, but hopefully, after this first trip, I can reach out to different organizations for more funding in the future.  

Do you have memorable cases from there?

Last year, when I traveled to Uganda, I brought a portable dental machine for human teeth. I was able to clean the chimpanzees’ teeth for the first time in their lives, which was really cool. They have the same number of teeth that we have. They were fully asleep.

Do you see differences in attitude towards animals?

I travel around the world, so I see many different perspectives that people have towards animals. And I found that no matter where I go, if people’s lives are good, they tend to treat animals well. When people are poor, they tend to treat the animals poorly. Maybe they don’t know better or just don’t care—they have bigger issues. 

What about Ukraine? 

I wouldn’t say that attitude in Ukraine is worse than in other countries I’ve been to. 

I’ve seen the full spectrum of attitudes towards animals.  When I came here to help, it was with very dedicated people, people who respect, care, and love animals, who put themselves in danger to evacuate animals. I’ve also seen another side when people tie up an animal and leave it. 

Do you have any pets? 

Oh, my dog Henry… I was working at the shelter in California doing surgeries one day, and I was doing my presurgical exam on lots and lots of dogs to make sure they were healthy for surgery and anesthesia. I met Henry that morning. He was scheduled for castration. I fell in love with him. And he’s been living with me for more than five years. He is lazy, emotional. He always looks sad. It’s because he’s a boxer, and it’s just the way their faces are, even if it’s happy – it looks sad. He is very loyal. Like me, he can sleep anywhere.

When I travel to the US, he comes with me. But when I travel to other countries, I leave him with my family.

To Ukraine During the Full-Scale War

After the full-scale war started, how did you come to Ukraine for the first time?

I pretty much stopped everything in my life. I had a full-time job, and I left to come and help where I could. In the second week, I was in Poland working on the Polish-Ukrainian border (Medyka-Shehyni border crossing point), with a tent, with people from IFAW, and we were helping refugees as they crossed into the EU with their animals. For about two months, I stayed at the border. It was really tough listening to the stories from people who had fled from Mariupol, Kherson, and Kharkiv. But I didn’t think about leaving at all. I knew that being able to help Ukrainians at this time was important for me.

Do you have any special memories from that time?

I think that was my third day at the border, midnight. And this woman came into our tent. She came from Mariupol with her mother and a cat. She was worried because her cat hadn’t peed for two days. We had rest cages for the cats, a place where he could hide, and a litter box. We put the cat in the little cage, and he immediately went to the kitty litter and started peeing. And she started crying. Finally, all the stress she’s been holding… She was so happy. I started crying, too. 

We talked. She was saying how she had just left her home in Mariupol, how her house was destroyed, it was hit by a missile. And here is this woman who packed her life in several suitcases, and her biggest concern was her cat not peeing.

The whole reason I was at the border was because there were so many people crossing the border with their animals. They wouldn’t leave their animals behind.

Where did you go after that? 

Then I came to Ukraine and traveled around—to Lviv and Odesa for a few months, and then home for June and July 2022. I came back in August. For three weeks, I was supposed to be volunteering with a couple of veterinarians in Odesa. I worked with exotic animals. That three-week trip became four months. I had to help with the evacuation abroad of lions from Odesa. 

Evacuation of a Lion Pride

The lions got names — Stephania, Lesya, and Taras. I reached out to IFAW and asked them if they could help get permits to transport the lions from Ukraine to Poland and then to the US. Even during a war, the paperwork is complicated to transport big animals like lions, tigers, bears, and leopards. This was October or November of 2022… this was when Russia started to target energy infrastructure, power plants, and there were lots of blackouts. So the office which issued permits wasn’t open. So we couldn’t get the paperwork. Eventually, the Polish government said, “OK, you can bring the lion cubs over. We’ll make it work.” That’s when I traveled from Odesa to Kyiv with the three lion cubs and the two vets I was working with.

We went to Natalia Popova’s Wild Animals Rescue Center. Natalia also had a lion cub who was going to join the three and make one pride. She also had a black leopard cub, six adult lions, and an Asian black bear. All of them were evacuated to Poland. 

We all went together. Natalia had a big transport truck. We put the cubs into crates and put them in the back of the truck. Small cubs were in small cages, and they sat in the front with us. They were small enough, and I was still bottle-feeding them. We drove from Kyiv to Poznan for 36 hours. 

I felt bad for the zoo staff because we showed up with a lot of work, especially with the cubs. Four lion cubs and a leopard cub were eating 4-5 times a day. So I stayed at the zoo for about a month. I lived at the zoo. They gave me a uniform and a golf car. I drove to the cubs, and I fed them. 

After a month, permits came to transport them to the US. Someone from New York very graciously donated a private jet to fly the lion cubs all the way from Warsaw to Chicago.

International airline regulations require each animal to be in a crate. Even though it would have been okay if they were free, we weren’t allowed to, and it’s safer for them to be in a crate. They were up in the cabin with us.

It was probably very stressful for them because they had to be separated from each other, and the plane was very loud.

The whole trip was long – 12 hours. In Chicago, we were met by the Wildcat Sanctuary staff. That’s where the lions are now. We loaded the lions into their truck, and then we drove 6 hours to the sanctuary.

The black leopard stayed in Poznan, and now it lives in France.

I saw a video where your arms were scratched!

They have very, very sharp claws. They tried grabbing and holding my arm as I was holding the bottle. When I shared the video with scratches, I was in transit, so I didn’t have time to go get gloves. But once I got to Poland, I definitely got gloves very quickly. 

Is there any point when you must stop contact?

Yes. The sanctuary where they are now is a zero-touch facility, no one has any contact with them, which is absolutely the best possible way. It keeps people and animals safe. We, humans, have this fantasy that we can pet and touch and cuddle any animal. On social media, people are sharing videos of hugging monkeys, cuddling leopards, and sleeping on tigers.  

Maybe it can be okay. In 90% of cases, there’s no issue hugging a tiger that has lived its whole life in captivity. But that 10% of the time when something goes wrong, that’s when people lose fingers, arms. There are even situations when a lion or a tiger attacks somebody, then this animal usually has to be put down or euthanized because it now has this experience. In reality, it’s just doing what it knows how to do. 

A 20-30-second video takes it out of proportion. It’s not the reality of what it’s like to take care of these animals. These animals don’t make good pets. Once they are adults, they become too large to be able to safely play with. So, often, subsequently, they are put in little cages, where they live the rest of their lives. People often get these animals as pets when they are really young, they are so tiny and so precious. But they don’t stay that way forever. After 6-7 months, they already weigh 60 kg, and even if they are playing, they can hurt you. Most people’s reaction is, “if I can’t play with you, you have to stay in this little yard or cage”.

Does it happen in America too?

It does. It depends on the state. I think we have more tigers in captivity in Texas than there are in the wild.

Each state has different laws regarding private ownership of these types of animals, but we are cracking down and getting better in terms of who can privately own a tiger or a lion and who can legally breed them. New laws are in place, and the effect can be released in several years, but the goal is to have none of these animals in captivity anymore in private ownership.

Animal Shelters in Ukraine and in the US

Do you have any stray animals in America?

Oh yeah. We have a lot of stray cats. And we would have a lot of stray dogs, but we have many shelters. So, if a dog is a stray, very soon, he will go to a shelter. If we didn’t have so many shelters, we would have many more dogs on the streets. 

Are shelters in the United States different from Ukrainian ones?

Some shelters in the US are very nice and well-designed. Most shelters are indoors with access to yards outside. They are built as shelters. Every dog and cat has its own room. It’s possible; it just has to be really big. 

They are in cities, so people are more likely to come and say, “This dog is cute; I’ll adopt it.” 

They have a lot of money and can pay staff. They get donations. An animal shelter in a city will have a contract with the city itself. 

There are many successful animal shelters. They have a whole team of people whose job is to find money for the shelter. They have wealthy donors, and they get them to donate money every year.

The shelter I did my training at saw 90,000 animals that year. They are adopted regularly.

Most animal shelters have at least one full-time veterinarian and a clinic where they do surgeries all the time. It is a big difference from the shelters here in Ukraine. They don’t have their own veterinary staff. Maybe they are run by babushkas. If the shelter has a doctor and a veterinary nurse, the spread of diseases will be stopped faster, and they will treat injuries sooner than when animals have to be taken to clinics. The longer you go without sterilizing the animal, the higher the chance there will be more puppies, and you are creating a bigger problem for yourself.

What are the biggest problems you saw in Ukrainian shelters? 

Probably the biggest challenge at all animal shelters – there are too many animals and not enough resources: not enough food or access to veterinary medicine. An animal that is sick and needs medication twice a day can’t get that treatment because there are not enough people to give the medication to the animal. 

I have seen shelters with way too many animals, and they have no plans to move some of the animals. They just take five dogs from the street and put them with the rest of the population: there’s fighting, biting, and disease. 

What can we do to improve it?

Spay and neuter every animal that comes to a shelter or even every stray animal you can trap. One female dog can have 10 puppies, and then from these you’ll have 100 puppies, of those you can have a thousand puppies. Spaying and neutering reduces the number of stray animals, reduces disease spreading, it’s a public health concern. 

Separation is really important. There should be individual areas for the dogs, for example, ten dogs in this room, ten in that one, which do not mix, and then a plan to reduce the number of animals. 

I know, it’s easier said than done.

Do you see differences between American veterinary care and the Ukrainian system?

I worked with a lot of good veterinarians, very smart, very capable. One of the differences is that in the US, we have more access to the advanced machines which we use, which do exist here. 

We actually have a specialization in the US called “shelter medicine”. There’s no such a specialization in Ukraine. But that type of medical care is very different from a local clinic. In a shelter environment, you have lots and lots of animals with little resources, you have to keep diseases under control.

After I finished vet school, I did one year of a shelter internship. 

Together with the Veterinarians Without Borders organization, you conducted and published a webinar about medical care in Ukrainian 

The key point of the lecture was reducing stress. When animals are stressed, just like us, their immune systems go down and then they are more susceptible to disease. In the shelter environment, where lots of animals are mixing together, disease can spread really quickly. Which is why having separate rooms is important. And reducing noise, not having cats next to dogs.

What do you enjoy the most in your job?

When I work with wild animals, for instance, when an animal comes to me first, it’s injured or sick, and I’m able to fix it, and I get to see it get to the point where it’s healthy and can go back to the wild. Those releases are absolutely my favorite moments. 

The UAnimals volunteer community is celebrating its first anniversary! Today, it boasts over 2,300 members, each contributing uniquely to animal protection. Volunteers assist in shelters, participate in nature clean-ups, evacuate animals from dangerous areas, or distribute food in frontline cities and villages.

Viktoriya Ovsiannikova recently returned from such a trip. She distributed a hundred kilograms of cat and dog food in the Kharkiv region, including in Zolochiv and the villages of Hubarivka and Kalynove, which have been ravaged by shelling. In these cities and villages, residents care for many animals abandoned by their previous owners.

Viktoriya lives in Bohodukhiv, Kharkiv region, where she works as a secretary in a medical institution. Her husband, who initially helped with animal volunteering, joined the Armed Forces this year.

Outside of her work with UAnimals, Viktoriya leads an active animal protection life. Thanks to her and her friend Yuliya Kachkariova, many homeless animals find new families. They also ensure these animals are sterilized, aiming to reduce the number of stray dogs and cats in Bohodukhiv. Viktoriya shared all of this in the interview.

Operation Puppy Rescue and Animal Protection in Bohodukhiv   

I have always felt sorry for stray animals, but what could I do? I would feed them and move on. I lacked the resolve to do more until one particular incident.

In 2019, a video appeared on our community’s social media about a homeless dog in Bohodukhiv that had given birth to ten puppies. The video urged people to adopt them. In our town lives a veterinarian, Yuliya Kachkariova, who had previously given me advice over the phone when my cat was sick. We have kept in touch on social media. Then, we both saw the post about the street dogs at the same time and decided to go see if we could help.

In the meantime, the puppies had become a bit too popular: many people approached them, scaring them into hiding. Yuliya and I spent two months catching them from under concrete slabs and giving them away. It was an entire operation that brought us closer together.

This friendship gave me the strength and support to help animals more actively. Yuliya already had experience finding homes for stray cats and dogs, but now we do it together. We also often temporarily take animals in because there are no shelters in our town.

Yuliya spays and neuters stray dogs and cats for free. We also have a charity account where residents of the Bohodukhiv community can donate money for spaying and neutering or treatment if they want to support stray animals.

Previously, Bohodukhiv residents were wary of sterilization, especially the religious ones. They believed it was a sin. But recently, a local priest had his dog sterilized and told his congregation about it. Since then, their attitude has changed. They say: sterilize your pet and have a clear conscience!

Practically all the stray animals in our town are now sterilized. I believe this has led to fewer aggressive animals in Bohodukhiv. They roam the town peacefully, and no one chases them away. On the contrary, lately, I’ve seen people placing water for the animals in the park and near various businesses. Many people at the market take care of the strays. Attitudes toward animals in Bohodukhiv are changing. I hope that in the future, conflicts between people and animals will be minimal.

Legal Victory  

In June, a person in our community was punished for animal abuse. I spent seven months visiting various authorities to make it happen, and I was the one who reported it to the police.

In a village near Bohodukhiv, there is a man who kept animals but didn’t feed them. We believe he took his dog to the forest, put it in a sack, and abandoned it. The dog chewed through the sack and survived, later found by people. However, there was no direct evidence that the owner did this, although neighbors had long known about his treatment of animals. Later, this same man got a puppy and chained it up. After some time, the puppy died from the cold.

I didn’t know how to proceed. I should have called the investigative team, but a patrol arrived instead. Again, it was impossible to prove that the owner’s actions led to the animal’s death. But I am sure that was the case.

The owner was fined for improper animal care (under Article 154 of the Code of Administrative Offenses). Previously, no one in the community dealt with such cases. If someone beat a dog or took it to the forest, people would say, “Well, it’s their dog, they can do whatever they want.” Now, we have a precedent where the owner was punished for such actions.

And now, I know how to act in such cases.

Evacuating Animals from Kharkiv: Combat Parrots and Other Rescues

At the beginning of the full-scale invasion, my husband and I transported many animals. When serious shelling began in Kharkiv, it was quiet in our area. We understood that many people would leave Kharkiv, and there would be trouble with animals there. I was subscribed to many Kharkiv groups, and people started posting, “Take our dog” and “Looking for families for our puppies.” We brought animals from Kharkiv to Bohodukhiv and found owners for them. I was most surprised that in difficult times, people were willing to take in animals, some even multiple ones.

On our first trip, such exotic animals were in the car! Five puppies were in two boxes in the trunk. Two cages with parrots were on the back seat, and a guinea pig was in a small carrier. When we approached a checkpoint, the soldiers looked into our car, and my husband said, “Do you need combat parrots?”

The emotions are hard to describe… I remember now with tears in my eyes. It was scary then, but everything worked out thanks to people who were willing to take animals into their families.

Violetta Tohobytska, a doctoral student at the National University of Civil Protection of Ukraine, helped us a lot in Kharkiv. She sheltered many animals. Violetta lives in the Kholodna Hora area (a locality in the western part of Kharkiv). She went to Saltivka (the eastern part of the city), which was heavily shelled and took animals to her place. We met her in Kholodna Hora, took the animals, and transported them further. There were people in Kharkiv who went to dangerous areas to save animals.

Sara the Shepherd Dog

In the early days of the full-scale invasion, when Kharkiv residents were hiding in the subway, a woman called me. She said, “I’m a veterinarian. Yesterday, a dog was brought to me in the subway, and they asked me to euthanize it. Now I’m sitting in the underground with a shepherd dog. Can you find it a home?” It was a generally healthy shepherd dog named Sara. The people said they were leaving and couldn’t take Sara with them, “If you want, we’ll leave her with you, or we’ll inject her with something, and that will be it.” Of course, the doctor refused. These people came back the next day and said they tried to poison the dog, but the poison didn’t work. They just left Sara there and went away.

Sara was 9 years old and, though not ill, had poor eyesight. It was wartime, people were leaving… And here was an old shepherd dog — who would need her?

It was February 26, 2022. People were afraid to go to Kharkiv. Even my husband refused. I found a driver in Bohodukhiv who still went and picked up Sara.

I was worried because she was an adult dog, and I had only dealt with puppies before. But it turned out that Sara was very smart, well-behaved, and calm. We concluded she was a service dog because she knew all the commands.

My friend Olha agreed to take her. She prepared a place in the boiler room with good conditions. But soon, she called and said, “You know, the dog is missing. “How could she get out of the boiler room if you have a door there?” We started searching. The shepherd dog had poor vision, and there was a lot of traffic in the city center! I had already lost hope, but the next day, I saw her at the market. We found Sara.

There were cameras in that room. We reviewed the footage. It was interesting to see how the dog got out. It turned out Sara approached the door, pressed the handle with her paw, and went out.

Olha had taken the shepherd dog temporarily but decided to keep her permanently. So, Sara still lives with her.

To the Shelter with Puppies, But Without the Husband

Over the past two years, we have found homes for about 300 animals. Even I am amazed by these numbers.

At first, I was scared to take in new animals. At the beginning of the full-scale invasion, I had five puppies at home. I thought, “If we have to hide quickly, how will I get all the animals to the basement?”

Later, when we experienced explosions, my daughter would be the first to run to the basement with two dogs, followed by me with a box containing the five puppies. Once, I got stuck in the doorway with this box. My husband stood behind me, unable to get out because I was blocking the way. He said, “You see, you saved the animals, but you forgot me here!” There were times when my husband was already in the basement, and I was still running around the house, collecting the puppies.

I am always filled with joy when I find a home for a cat or a dog. If I have helped some living being, I tell myself, “Vika, you didn’t live this day in vain!” I have found my purpose in helping animals. A person can help themselves, but only a person can help an animal. 

20% of Ukraine’s protected areas have suffered due to the war. Some territories—valuable ecosystems, wetlands ravaged by tanks, and burned forests in the Donetsk and Luhansk regions that have been devastated by the russians since 2014—are lost forever. However, in most cases, nature has the ability to heal itself without the need for any extra conditions. The key is not to interfere.

Our common task is to assess the environmental damage caused by the fighting and hold the invader accountable with a fair bill.

In the early months of the war, we asked ourselves, “What’s next?” We cannot always stop a missile that burns forests, destroys land, and pollutes soil and water. Clearly, such incidents will continue. What can be done about it?

We studied the history of wars and reparations. The most recent case we looked into was the Iraq-Kuwait war. In that instance, 10% of the reparations were designated as environmental. However, these mostly concerned losses of natural resources—how much natural gas was burned, how many mineral deposits were destroyed, and so on. We became curious as to why there was no accounting for biodiversity loss—plants, animals, and other living organisms. History has shown that there was no proper recording of environmental crimes nor a method for calculating them. This is why we are starting from scratch.

There are several critical steps necessary to document the damage and hold russia accountable.

First, we need to monitor and catalog Ukraine’s biodiversity meticulously. Currently, we largely rely on outdated methods, but with the help of our Finnish colleagues, we are modernizing our approach. This is one of the key reforms required for Ukraine’s accession to the European Union.

Specifically, we aim to implement satellite monitoring that will allow us to track each animal rather than estimating numbers based on sightings and plugging those figures into a formula.

Second, it is crucial to document the environmental crimes that have already occurred thoroughly. Since the first days of the full-scale invasion, the State Environmental Inspectorate has been recording each crime with on-site inspections, when possible, along with photographs and all necessary evidence. The collected data is being uploaded to the EcoZagroza — official resource of the Ministry of Environmental Protection and Natural Resources of Ukraine. You can find more information here: https://ecozagroza.gov.ua/enEkoZahroza app, which any Ukrainian can contribute to.

The approaches used by the State Environmental Inspectorate are much broader than those employed by law enforcement when investigating criminal liability. There is a stark difference between proving a crime and evaluating the damage done. For instance, how can we calculate the value of a tree that has been growing for 80 years?

However, it is important to note that a full accounting of the damages will only be possible after demining efforts are completed—currently, more than 25% of Ukrainian territory is mined and in need of inspection.

In February, Ukrainian prosecutors officially notified russian military personnel of their suspected involvement in committing ecocide in Ukraine for the first time. Holding russia accountable as a whole, however, is a matter of international law. On April 2, the Register of Damage for Ukraine, which includes an environmental component, came into effect, with over 40 countries supporting the creation of this “international tribunal.”

As we continue to gather evidence of russia’s crimes against the environment, we must also address institutional changes within Ukraine. One of the most critical steps is to draft and pass a law on state climate policy, something Ukraine has lacked thus far. This policy would enable the launch of an emissions trading system similar to that in EU countries. Additionally, we have supported the European Commission’s initiative to increase the share of renewable energy to 2030. Ukraine has unique territories, such as the Chornobyl Exclusion Zone, where green energy projects can be developed on unused land, gradually turning Ukraine into an energy hub.

We are already shaping the future of Ukraine’s economy and the country’s ability to recover after the war. These issues cannot be postponed. Therefore, we must implement European standards for the use of natural resources while meticulously documenting everything for which russia will have to pay soon.

The texts in the Columns section reflect only the author’s opinion and do not necessarily align with the position of UAnimals media’s editorial team.

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

This was a normal water level for early June.

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

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

June 6

Natalia from Oleshky 

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

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

Oksana from Kherson

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

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

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

Hanna from Mykolaiv 

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

Katia from Kyiv 

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

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

Alisiya from Kyiv

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

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

Hanna from Mykolaiv

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

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

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

Natalia from Oleshky

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By sunset, the water had already covered the fences.

June 7

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

Katia from Kyiv

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

Alisiya from Kyiv

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

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

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

3 p.m. — 1048 cm above datum level 

Hanna from Mykolaiv

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

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

Photographer — Danylo Pavlov / Reporters

Oksana from Kherson

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

Rostyslav from Kherson

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

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

June 8

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

Alisiya from Kyiv

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

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

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

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

Rostyslav from Kherson

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

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

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

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

Hanna from Mykolaiv

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oksana from Kherson

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

June 9

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

Natalia from Oleshky

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

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

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