Sixty million years ago, two continents collided in what Earth Scientists call the pivotal natural event of the the earth's recent geological history. The impact of this collision, resulting in a corridor between the Americas, was profound. Everything changed - ocean currents, climate and the distribution of plants and animals on land, air and sea. For the first time plant and animal species from two continents were able to mix, evolutionary forces went into freeplay. Today, the rich biodiversity of the narrow isthmus that joins north and south America is under threat.

This is the story of the Path of the Jaguar - the biggest transnational conservation and restoration project of its kind which hopes to conserve this unique and rapidly disappearing biological isthmus.

Corridor of life

This one strip of land makes up only one half of one percent of the world's land surface but boasts 7 percent of the world's biological diversity. Nearly 900 species of mammals, birds and reptiles share this exotic wilderness.

Twelve thousand years ago, homo-sapiens appeared in the biological register and their impact has been close to devastating. In the last century, an epidemic of poaching and logging nearly wiped out all of this once rugged jungle which took nearly 60 million years to develop.

The path of the jaguar

Now a host of international and local environmental organisations, led by the Global Environment Facility, have decided enough is enough. They're trying to recreate a connected corridor of sustainably managed, protected land called 'The Mesoamerican Biological Corridor', also known as the 'Path of the Jaguar'.

Stretching across 7 countries, it's sheer scale and scope eclipses all other transnational conservation projects ever attempted. But protecting this rich ecological heritage comes at a cost - higher even than the $100 million already pumped into the corridor project.


Problems: law enforcement

Don Jose Carlos Mendez, once a local hunter and now a park ranger, has paid a high price for enforcing conservation laws in the Sierra de las Minas chain of mountains - a National Park in southeast Guatemala. During a violent confrontation Don Jose was left disabled and his son, Jose Rodolfo, was killed - adding yet another name onto a long list of Central Americans who've lost their lives protecting the land they love. Environmental impunity in many South American countries is a legacy not lost on those backing the Corridor project.

However, enforcing these laws isn't just dangerous, it's also a task fraught with dilemmas.

Problems: indigenous rights

Nearly 7 million indigenous people live within the Corridor's National Parks. For these communities, the conservation of this natural resource has left them without entitlement to the land. Now 'their' land isn't 'theirs' any longer. These communities are caught on the horns of an impossible dilemma. They don't want to move but they can't afford to stay.

Many indigenous groups see the project as a threat to traditional land rights and resist transnational efforts to dictate how natural resources like forests should be managed.

And it's not an easy task for the people behind the corridor's project who have to relocate these families.

Solutions: coffee break

Coffee production is one of the strategies in the biological corridor because it can act as a buffer zone for protected areas.

Economically attractive, organic and more environmentally sustainable than other crops, coffee is an attractive option for poor farmers who suffer the loss of their traditional hunting lifestyle under the Corridor project. By promoting coffee, or by allowing them to have better prices or better access to their markets, agricultural migration or the clearing of new land can be detained or stopped.

Solutions: tourist dollars

In Kuna Yale, the indigenous fishing population of the Kuna live exclusively along the San Blas Archepelago, a chain of 370 coral atolls which run along the exquisite Atlantic Coast. The Kuna are widely considered a model example of a people who've asserted political influence to protect their lands and their culture. They're also an essential link in the Corridor plan. The Kuna want to see eco-tourism take off here. But there's a twist to this environmentally sound solution.

As tourism demands increase, eco-tourists could soon be enjoying this
paradise from the comfort of their very own luxury island hotel - built on foundations of coral poached from local reefs by highly paid local divers, destroying a living coral reef that's taken around 7,000 years to form.

Making the vision real

The economies of the seven countries which make up the Central American isthmus are dependent on natural resources. Using these resources makes sense but conserving what's left is the only way to ensure that they last.

With many indigenous groups moving into the global cash economy, coupled with a spiralling population problem, the fate of these groups and their ecosystem is seriously threatened.

What concerns those who conceived this hugely ambitious project is that its purpose be understood by all those whose lives it affects - including the region's seven-million indigenous people and the 21 million Central Americans living in poverty. Without their support, the dream won't be realised.

The stakes are high. Unless the Corridor's visionaries provide even more alternatives to make the corridor an opportunity to deal with the environment in a economically productive way, the Corridor may not go beyond a dream.

But if the Corridor succeeds it could open the way for similar projects in Asia and Africa - conserving other fragile ecosystems before it's too late.