This article by Biraj Adhikari, a Research Fellow of ecosystem services at ICIMOD, was first published in Nepali Times. A shortened and edited version is republished on Global Voices as part of a content-sharing agreement. When I arrived in February, Bahundangi in the Jhapa district of Nepal seemed like a sleepy little town, but the quiet was often interrupted, not by traffic or noisy construction, but by wild elephants. The village is on the migratory route of generations of wild elephants that have been moving for centuries from the northeast Indian state of Assam, through the lowlands of Bhutan and the eastern Indian state of West Bengal to Nepal in search of food and water. Shankar Chettri Luitel. Image by ICIMOD via Nepali Times, used with permission. However, the recent expansion of settlements and conversion of forest to agricultural land and tea estates have fragmented these routes, leading to conflict between elephants and people. Each year, this conflict results in the destruction of crops and dwellings, human injury and death, and the retaliatory killing of elephants. Bahundangi was particularly affected by this conflict, but things have changed over the years, thanks to a handful of conservationists — including Shankar Chettri Luitel. He is a slender man in his fifties, with a sombre demeanour but a helpful disposition. He had been voluntarily working for over two decades on research and management of human-elephant conflict. Luitel had a wealth of information about the area, and the history of human-wildlife contact, but I could not put a finger on why he was so passionate about elephant conservation. “The first time I got emotionally involved with elephants was when an elephant gave birth on my farm in 2001. That’s how my conservation journey began,” Luitel explained. Image by ICIMOD via Nepali Times, used with permission. Human wellbeing depends on biodiversity. However, activities intended to make our lives better are negatively affecting nature and ecosystems, threatening the future of biodiversity and our very existence. It is thus critical that we find ways for humans and wildlife to coexist. Image by ICIMOD via Nepali Times, used with permission. This year’s International Day of Biological Diversity (May 20) celebrates the idea of coexistence with the theme “Building a shared future for all life.” This may seem romantic and farfetched, but I realised that it is possible because of this unsung hero: Shankar Chettri Luitel. It was my PhD research on human-wildlife interaction that took me to Bahundangi, a small town in Nepal’s easternmost plains bordering India, a part of the transboundary Kangchenjunga Landscape that spans parts of Bhutan, India, and Nepal. Despite little or no formal training in wildlife, Luitel voluntarily got involved in numerous studies, activities and plans to manage conflict in the area, where he learned much about biodiversity and conservation. In time, he became the go-to person for researchers hoping to learn about migrating elephants, their habitat, behaviour, and the socioeconomic impact of human-wild elephant contact. He provided critical insights into planning and managing, and this involvement also helped him learn scientific methods, such as the use of GPS tracking to monitor migratory patterns. He had become a true citizen scientist. Luitel now has a reputation as an elephant expert, making the community aware of wild elephants’ whereabouts and movement. Contrary to what I expected, the people here seemed tolerant of wild elephants. “It wasn’t always like this,” Luitel recalled. “People used to hate elephants, and they hated us too for trying to protect them.” Image by ICIMOD via Nepali Times, used with permission. His advocacy for peaceful measures to manage wild elephants used to be met with fierce resistance, even physical threats. Elephants were the sworn enemies of the locals of Bahundangi because they pillaged crops, destroyed livelihoods, and even injured and killed people. But, over time, Luitel’s relentless efforts started to change people’s perceptions. He tracked their movement, organised patrols, and recorded property damage in the village. More importantly, Luitel helped affected families navigate the complicated process of claiming compensation, from writing applications on their behalf to collecting documentary evidence, and travelling to the municipality office to register the claims himself. Here is a video by Shankar Chettri Luitel on YouTube: He and a few of his colleagues were the reason why the village appeared on the radar of governments, politicians, and researchers.