Ecuadorian Family’s Solo Mission to Preserve Amazon’s Endangered Plants

On a recent expedition deep into the Ecuadorian Amazon, Ramón Pucha noticed fresh puma tracks following his own footprints along a jungle path. Undeterred, he continued his journey, focused entirely on his precious cargo — seeds from some of the world’s most endangered plant species.

Pucha and his family have devoted years to recreating a thriving piece of rainforest on their 32-hectare farm called El Picaflor in the Indigenous Quichua community of Alto Ila, located about 80 miles southeast of Quito, Ecuador’s capital.

“I have a passion for nature, for plants, for animals,” says 51-year-old Pucha, acknowledging that his environmental dedication runs so deep that many local community members consider him “crazy.”

His conservation work often takes him on solitary journeys deep into the Amazon, where he spends up to five days searching for rare seeds. These expeditions have grown increasingly challenging in recent years. On multiple occasions, Pucha has returned empty-handed because many large trees have stopped producing seeds annually — a direct consequence of climate change and the severe droughts plaguing the region.

When seeds finally make it back to El Picaflor, Pucha’s wife, Marlene Chiluisa, takes over. She plants them in carefully prepared soil and compost, nurturing them until they grow into seedlings ready for replanting in the rainforest. The family’s conservation model extends beyond their land, as they sell or gift a percentage of their plants to neighbors who share their commitment to forest regeneration.

The couple’s 21-year-old son, Jhoel, has emerged as the family’s successor in this vital work. A skilled botanist in his own right, he navigates the forest with remarkable expertise, identifying plants by their common, traditional, and scientific names. Jhoel also serves as a guide for visitors, ferrying them across the turbulent Ila River in a makeshift craft constructed from wooden planks attached to a buoy.

Despite the critical ecological importance of their work, the Pucha family operates without external support.

“Nobody gives us any incentive—not the government, not foundations, not anyone,” Chiluisa explains.

Ecuador’s Ministry of Agriculture and Livestock recognizes the significance of the family’s conservation efforts, describing El Picaflor as a “living laboratory” and an essential seed bank in a region devastated by a half-century of intensive logging. The ministry’s acknowledgment highlights the vital role such grassroots conservation plays in an area where industrial development has severely diminished biodiversity.

The political landscape, however, presents new challenges. Ecuador made history as the first country to enshrine the “rights of nature” in its constitution, establishing a legal framework that recognizes ecosystems as entities with legal rights. But environmentalists and Indigenous groups warn that this ecological legacy is now threatened by President Daniel Noboa’s recent decision to merge the Ministry of Environment with the Ministry of Energy and Mines — a move that critics fear prioritizes resource extraction over conservation.

As Pucha walks across what was once barren pastureland, now transformed into a thriving forest ecosystem, he pauses frequently to observe the plants, describing the unique ecological purpose of each species. His eyes light up when he points to a small growing tree, explaining that this particular hardwood species, now rare in the region, will take a century to reach full maturity.

Though he knows he won’t live to see this tree in its full glory, Pucha remains unwavering in his commitment. “That is my legacy for my children and for humanity,” he says, noting that these endangered species are crucial to the Amazon’s survival — serving both as medicine for humans and as food sources for the animals that naturally disperse seeds throughout the forest.

In a region facing accelerating deforestation, changing climate patterns, and shifting political priorities, the Pucha family’s preservation work represents a small but vital stronghold against the loss of Amazonian biodiversity. Their efforts demonstrate how indigenous knowledge and dedication can create models for conservation, even without institutional support or recognition.