Mangroves and mudskippers

There is something quite otherworldly about a mangrove forest. Giant networks of gangly, interlocking roots sprawl out from spindly trunks to create the illusion of levitating trees, as if an entire forest has been plucked out of the murky water below. Dappled light pierces through the dense green canopy, casting a warm, sepia glow on the shallows and painting ethereal, spiralling patterns on the tannin-infused surface. Yet these alien landscapes are a far cry from the barren distant planets elsewhere in our solar system. Mangrove ecosystems are dynamic, bustling biospheres, rich with remarkable life, both above and below the water’s surface.

I first became interested in mangrove ecosystems as a young teenager, when on a weekend mission to the local aquatic retailer to stock my small freshwater aquarium, I discovered the Mudskipper. These small, amphibious fish captivated me. With the extraordinary ability to breathe through the skin and lining of the mouth and throat, they live their lives both in water and on land. My mind’s eye conjured images from old textbooks and rudimentary science documentaries of fish emerging from the ocean to begin a new life on dry land, and it felt that these bizarre slug-like creatures were a glimpse of evolution itself, happening right in front of my eyes. Transfixed, I watched the Mudskippers effortlessly traverse two radically different yet interconnected ecosystems, using their adapted pectoral and pelvic fins to propel themselves across the sand and into the shallow water.

Although my attention was finally pulled away by the long, stacked rows of brightly lit Cichlid tanks, I could not forget the paludarium's enchanting magic, its roots and tropical haze still holding me. I wondered what other secrets were hidden in the Mudskipper’s world.

Years later, as I deliberated over where to conduct my research for my master’s thesis, my mind drifted back to this mesmerising microcosm, and I decided to reach out to a small NGO in the Philippines that I became aware of during a stint working in marketing for a small sports sunglasses company in Amsterdam. The connection was tenuous, but after some brief email exchanges with the excitable and ambitious founder of the NGO, Ulrich Kronberg, the trip was confirmed.

Mati, capital of the province of Davao Oriental, is located on the southeasternmost side of Mindanao and was my base for 10 weeks during my research. Residing in a small hostel near the University, my daily routine usually consisted of an early start, cycling to the nearby mangrove forest. Wading along the watery passage under the interlocking boughs, a mask and snorkel propped up on my forehead, I would stop sporadically to dip my face beneath the surface and immerse myself into the mysterious world below. After a languid swim over the swaying seagrass and along the steep coral ridge that separated the gentle shallows from the shadowy void of the bay, it was off to work.

I spent much of my time at Guang-Guang Mangrove Park. The park, an unfinished ecotourism venture, featured an impressive, multi-level concrete boardwalk and viewing platforms. This modern structure was, however, sharply juxtaposed against the crumbling concrete ruins of its supporting facilities, which lacked any trace of electricity, plumbing, or proper road access. My experience here not only provided a fascinating opportunity to spend time learning about the forest and its incredible biodiversity, but also a chance to see how mangrove areas were perceived, used, and enjoyed by the local communities who grew up around them.

The mangroves were my sanctuary. Every Sunday, I spent hours perched on the boardwalk among the trees, sinking into a meditative state, utterly lost to the gentle sounds of nature that completely engulfed me. With camera and notebook in hand, I would wander amid the snorkel-like pneumatophores, easily losing track of time in this natural haven, the silence broken only by the subtle splash of hopping Mudskippers.

Mangroves embody the complex, changing relationship between humans and nature. They reflect the challenges of pollution, our vast plastic ocean, and our relentless hunger for land. Yet, they simultaneously convey the raw beauty of unspoilt nature, offering patterns, textures, and natural artworks that inspire creativity and joy. Beyond aesthetics, the ecosystem services they provide support and protect both people and communities. Understanding these vital services is pivotal to obtaining a richer appreciation for these beautiful abstract landscapes and the urgent need to conserve and restore them for future generations.

This page showcases my experience and deep connection with mangroves, explored through art, photography, wildlife, conservation efforts, and the lives of the people who protect and rely on this vital ecosystem.