A boom in places offering petting sessions is linked to a rise in the illegal movement of exotic and endangered species, say experts

The second floor of an unassuming office building in central Bangkok is a strange place to encounter the world’s largest rodent. Yet here, inside a small enclosure with a shallow pool, three capybaras are at the disposal of dozens of paying customers – all clamouring for a selfie. As people eagerly thrust leafy snacks toward the nonchalant-looking animals, few seem to consider the underlying peculiarity: how, exactly, did this South American rodent end up more than 10,000 miles from home, in a bustling Asian metropolis?

Capybara cafes have been cropping up across the continent in recent years, driven by the animal’s growing internet fame. The semi-aquatic animals feature in more than 600,000 TikTok posts. In Bangkok, cafe customers pay 400 baht (£9.40) for a 30-minute petting session with them, along with a few meerkats and Chinese bamboo rats. Doors are open 12 hours a day, seven days a week.

As I watched the news about Australia’s devastating bushfires in 2020 I felt compelled to help. It was the start of a new relationship with nature, and a reminder of my childhood joie de vivre

As hookup sites go, it was in another league. I was looking for a different kind of soulmate and I was spoilt for choice. Would it be Floyd, “a stylish poser and a winner of hearts”? Or Bobby, “who loves cuddling and is a bit of a showoff”? Or could it be the “beautiful and incredibly sweet Morris with a gentle nature”? One stood out. Not only was he “very affectionate” but he was also “a bit of a troublemaker – always exploring and often found sitting on the rocks”. Just what I was looking for; I swiped right. That’s how I met Jarrah. My koala.

A month before, in 2020, I’d seen a newsflash about the bushfires in Australia. The effect on the continent’s wildlife was devastating. An estimated 61,000 koalas had been killed or injured among 143 million other native mammals. There were two things I felt I could do from the UK: one was to make koala mittens to protect their burnt paws (following a pattern I found online); and two, I could adopt a koala and send monthly donations to protect them in the wild. So I joined the Australian Koala Foundation, which is dedicated to the marsupials’ survival.

Environmental charity Fidra says 168 of 195 SSSIs it surveyed are contaminated with tiny pellets

Plastic nurdles have been found in 84% of important nature sites surveyed in the UK.

Nurdles are tiny pellets that the plastics industry uses to make larger products. They were found in 168 of 195 sites of special scientific interest (SSSIs), so named because of the rare wildlife they harbour. They are given extra protections in an effort to protect them from pollution.

Evidence that the whales and other marine animals are particularly vulnerable to sound is driving calls for quieter vessels

The delicate clicks and whistles of narwhals carry through Tasiujaq, locally known as Eclipse Sound, at the eastern Arctic entrance of the Northwest Passage. A hydrophone in this shipping corridor off Baffin Island, Nunavut, captures their calls as the tusked whales navigate their autumn migration route to northern Baffin Bay.

But as the Nordic Odyssey, a 225-metre ice-class bulk carrier servicing the nearby iron ore mine, approaches, its low engine rumble gives way to a wall of sound created by millions of collapsing bubbles from its propeller. The narwhals’ acoustic signals, evolved for one of Earth’s quietest environments, fall silent.

At Maple Farm, nature is returning in droves: nightingales, grass snakes, slowworms, bats and insects. All due to the vision of a group determined to accelerate its recovery

The manically melodic song of the nightingale is a rare sound in Britain these days, but not at Maple Farm. Four years ago, a single bird could be heard at this secluded spot in rural Surrey; this summer, they were everywhere. “We were hearing them calling all night, from five different territories,” says Meg Cookson, lead ecologist for the Youngwilders, pointing to the woodland around us. A group of Youngwilders were camping out at the site, but the birds were so loud, “we couldn’t sleep all night,” says Layla Mapemba, the group’s engagement lead. “We were all knackered the next day, but it was so cool.” An expert from the Surrey Wildlife Trust came to help them net and ring one of the nightingales the next morning, Cookson recalls: “He’d never held a nightingale in his hands before. He was crying.”

Rewilding is by definition a slow business, but here at Maple Farm, after just four years, the results are already visible, and audible. The farm used to be a retirement home for horses. Now it’s a showpiece for the Youngwilders’ mission: to accelerate nature recovery, in one of the most nature-depleted countries in the world, and to connect young people (18-30-year-olds) with a natural world they are often excluded from, and a climate crisis they are often powerless to prevent. Global heating continues, deforestation destroys natural habitats, and another Cop summit draws to a disappointing conclusion in Brazil – so who could blame young people for wanting to take matters into their own hands?