The sound of splashing hippopotamuses along the Faro River is once again a familiar echo in Cameroon’s North Region. After years of decline, wildlife is showing signs of resurgence in Faro National Park, a sprawling 330,000-hectare sanctuary on the country’s northwestern border with Nigeria. Yet conservationists warn the recovery is fragile, as climate-induced transhumance, gold panning and other human activities push ever deeper into the park, and risk undoing years of progress in protecting one of Central Africa’s most biodiverse landscapes.
A new wildlife inventory conducted by the African Wildlife Foundation (AWF), a non-governmental conservation organisation, and the Wildlife School of Garoua, documented 34 species of large and medium-sized mammals from 14 families and seven orders. These include elephants, giraffes, roan antelopes, buffalos, and lions. Among them, eight species —including the elephant, giraffe, and the critically endangered leopard — enjoy full legal protection in Cameroon.
“The results are encouraging. Populations of many large mammals are stable or increasing, particularly the hippopotamus, which has shown significant increase compared to the 2018 and 2021 surveys,” the report notes.
Survey teams noted the rebound of the hippopotamus, a species under heavy pressure elsewhere in Cameroon, and counted 508 individuals on foot along a 59.44-kilometre stretch of the Faro river, more specifically on the Faro mouth and Déo Mayo Lifé section. Adults accounted for nearly three-quarters of the population, while juveniles represented 12 per cent, indicating healthy reproduction.
“In 2018, there was a lot of pressure, and we were worried. Numbers were low and human activity, especially by transhumant herders and poachers, was rampant,” recalls Tsakem Samuel Christian, a wildlife expert and biostatistician who led the survey. “Today, we can say the hippo population is not just holding on but growing.”
Antelope species also appear to be thriving. Buffon’s kob was the most frequently sighted, with an estimated 4,673 individuals across the park. Other species such as the Derby eland, the harnessed guib, and the roan antelope showed strong presence.
The report highlights that the northern section of the park, particularly around Faro and Déo rivers, hosts the highest concentration of wildlife, with up to 41 signs of animal presence per kilometre. For eco-guards patrolling the vast savanna and riverine forests, these sightings are more than statistics — they are proof that years of labour-intensive monitoring and patrols are paying off.
One of the park’s former conservators said in the past, they could walk for days without seeing large animals. “Now, you stand by the river at dusk, and you can hear the hippos bellowing. It gives us hope,” he told Down to Earth.
But the optimism is tempered by a sobering reality. The same areas with dense wildlife also show worrying signs of human intrusion. The researchers documented 58 signs in just one section of the park, with gold-panning pits, cattle tracks, fishing nets, and even poacher camps scattered across the landscape. Gold mining, in particular, is a growing concern. With an index of activity twice as high as poaching, miners are leaving scars on the riverbanks where hippos graze and drink.
South of the park, around the villages of Sarkimata and Mana, evidence of transhumant herders was widespread. Their cattle enter the park in search of pasture, stripping vegetation and pruning valuable trees such as Afzelia africana. Ecologists fear that if the pruning continues, some of these species may fail to regenerate naturally — a threat described as less visible than hunting, but equally destructive.
According to the study, wildlife concentrations are highest in the north, around the confluence of the Faro and Déo rivers, but this is also where human pressures overlap most strongly. In some stretches, researchers recorded more than 40 animal signs per kilometre, alongside nearly six signs of human activity — making it a recipe for conflict. “If the herders take the grass and the miners poison the water, what’s left for the animals? We lose the park, and with it, our soul,” said Anthony Agbor, Faro Landscape Director at AWF.
Despite these threats, Faro has become a model of collaborative conservation. With support from international partners, eco-guards conduct regular patrols, often walking days through rugged terrain. Community monitors have been recruited from surrounding villages to report illegal activities. And new technologies, including drones and GPS-based platforms like EarthRanger, are beginning to supplement traditional foot patrols.
Still, important gaps remain. Large carnivores such as lions, leopards, and caracals were rarely observed during the latest survey. Scientists admit the method used — walking line transects— is poorly suited to detecting elusive predators. They suggest the adoption of camera traps, acoustic monitoring, and ‘calling stations’ that broadcast prey sounds to lure predators into range. “Without knowing what is happening to top predators, we cannot understand the full health of the ecosystem,” said Tsakem.
The report recommends several urgent steps, key among them the establishment of a permanent eco-guard base in the park’s south, where pressure from cattle herders is highest. It also calls for stricter patrols at the Faro-Déo confluence, more community involvement in conservation, and sustainable strategies for managing plant species under threat.
For the people working on the ground, lasting solutions must go beyond enforcement to address root causes. “In Faro, we are promoting solar-powered boreholes in buffer zones to reduce incursions, community-led land restoration and reforestation, and livelihood alternatives such as beekeeping, sustainable farming, and ecotourism,” said Anthony.
The AWF Faro Landscape Director added that regional cooperation with Nigeria and Chad is also critical to regulate cross-border pastoralist movements. “Patrols fight symptoms, but real solutions come when people have other ways to survive outside the park.”
Every day, as the sun sets over the Faro River, the surface ripples with the heavy movements of hippos returning from their daytime rest. It is a scene of renewal, but also of uncertainty. The park’s future hangs in the balance, suspended between the resilience of nature and the relentless push of human need.