There are moments in conservation when you realize that what once felt impossible has suddenly become real. A few years ago, Proyecto Tití launched a campaign with a dream that seemed incredibly ambitious at the time—to purchase a large tract of forest that would nearly double the size of Los Titíes de San Juan Forest Reserve in Colombia. We knew that protecting existing forest was critical for the survival of the critically endangered cotton-top tamarin, but we also knew that safeguarding the future of this species would require something more. We needed space to reconnect fragmented forests, restore degraded lands, and create corridors where wildlife could safely move once again. At the time, it was just a vision. Today, because of the incredible generosity and belief of our supporters, that vision has become reality.

And now comes the next chapter: restoration.

With the arrival of the seasonal rains, Proyecto Tití has begun large-scale restoration efforts within these newly protected areas of the reserve. Over the past several weeks, our team and community partners have planted more than 8,000 native tree saplings across nearly 40 hectares of land. By the end of May, we hope to have planted more than 21,000 trees.

When I walk through these restoration sites today, I see tiny saplings scattered across the landscape. Some are only a few feet tall. Others already sway gently in the wind. At first glance, they may not seem remarkable. But every one of those young trees represents possibility. One day, they will create shade over dry soils. Their roots will hold water in the ground during periods of drought. Birds will nest in their branches. Insects will pollinate their flowers. And cotton-top tamarins will once again move safely through connected forests instead of being trapped in isolated fragments surrounded by cattle pasture and deforested land.

Restoration is an act of hope.

But one thing I have learned after decades of working in conservation is that restoration is never just about planting trees. Conservation succeeds because of people. Because of communities. Because of individuals who decide that protecting nature matters. And that brings me to Salvador Vásquez.

Salvador has been part of Proyecto Tití’s restoration efforts since the very beginning. He lives in the community of Nuevo México, near San Juan Nepomuceno, and for years he has watched the landscape around him change as forests disappeared and wildlife habitat became increasingly fragmented. “The tamarins used to come close to my house in groups,” Salvador told me. “You could tell they were looking for places to move safely.” For someone who has spent his entire life connected to the land, these changes were impossible to ignore. Streams became less reliable. Shade disappeared. Wildlife sightings became less common. Like many people living in rural Colombia, Salvador experienced firsthand how deforestation changes not only forests, but entire communities. When Proyecto Tití first approached landowners about restoring native forest corridors, Salvador immediately understood why the work mattered.

“If there are no trees,” he said, “then we must plant more so the cotton-top tamarins can always move through the forest.” That simple statement captures something profound. Salvador understood that forests are not isolated patches of green on a map. They are living systems that allow wildlife, water, soil, and people to survive together.

One of the first species Salvador planted was a Peroba Rosa tree. He smiles when he talks about it because it is a slow-growing species that eventually produces shade. Alongside it, he planted a kapok tree, another native species essential to the tropical dry forest ecosystem. At the time, those saplings looked fragile and insignificant against the vastness of the landscape. But nearly a decade later, those same trees stand tall above the forest floor. Today, Salvador points to them proudly. “These trees are like bridges,” he explains. “They help the tamarins move safely from one place to another.” And he is absolutely right. For cotton-top tamarins, connectivity is everything. These tiny primates spend most of their lives moving through the forest canopy searching for food and safe places to raise their young. When forests become fragmented, tamarins are forced to cross open areas where they are vulnerable to predators and human disturbance. Every restored corridor gives them another chance.

But the impact of restoration extends far beyond cotton-top tamarins. The forests Salvador has helped restore now provide habitat for birds, insects, reptiles, and countless other species. They help stabilize soils during heavy rains and retain moisture during droughts. These forests also help mitigate the impacts of climate change by storing carbon and improving local ecosystem resilience. And perhaps most importantly, restoration reconnects people to the land itself.

Over the years, Salvador has participated in every annual planting effort organized by Proyecto Tití. What began as a community project gradually became a personal passion. Through training and hands-on experience, he learned how to prepare soils, select saplings, and care for young trees during the critical early stages of growth. But his favorite moments are about the wildlife returning. One memory, in particular, has stayed with him. “I saw a female tamarin carrying two babies,” Salvador said, smiling as he remembered the moment. “I had never seen them that close before.” For Salvador, seeing cotton-top tamarins moving through restored habitat was proof that the work mattered. That moment represents something I think about often. In conservation, success is not always immediate. Restoration takes patience. Forests do not grow overnight.  Some of the saplings we are planting today will not reach maturity for decades. 

Yet every tree planted is an investment in a future we may not fully see ourselves. And that is what makes people like Salvador so extraordinary. They plant trees not only for themselves, but for future generations. As restoration expands across the newly protected areas of Los Titíes de San Juan Forest Reserve, Salvador continues encouraging others in his community to participate. His message remains simple: “If there are no trees, we must plant more.”

Sometimes conservation can feel overwhelming. The challenges facing biodiversity around the world are enormous. But then I meet people like Salvador, and I am reminded that hope grows quietly—one sapling at a time, one family at a time, one restored forest at a time. And somewhere in those growing forests, cotton-top tamarins are finding their way home once again.