Courtney &Andy Farmer

They speak proudly of the project and how far it’s come, but there is a real humility there, too. For now they are grateful for being able to “assist and support” as much as possible from overseas.

With pieces of their hearts still in Mexico, I can understand the slight wistfulness in Andy’s voice when he tells me that they have not been able to go back as much as they would like.

It remains a dream for the future, and in the meantime they redirect their focus on reducing our footprint by doing as much as possible in the local context. Beach clean-ups, awareness raising, collaborating with other organisations, and teaming up with stakeholders. All the while maintaining their full-time jobs also.

Making time for me is part of that, and I am grateful they welcomed my ideas when approaching them at first.

Why did they think it was an interesting project to take part in, I ask them. And Courtney quickly touches on something I myself felt early on upon arrival on this island that would become my home.

“It’s a very necessary thing to happen from the Jersey perspective”, she says, stressing how much we are surrounded by the sea, beaches and cliffs. And how relatively little is being done “through the hierarchy” here. “It’s essentially the little guys that are taking it upon themselves, spending their own money, volunteering, bringing people together, and engaging the community” she points out.

It’s a characteristic many islanders are proud of - and should be. Having lived here for only 4 ½ years, it is a noticeable aspect of local life, and I wouldn’t want to take away from it.

Neither would Courtney. But she doesn’t shy away from saying “that realistically, those kinds of issues should be born by the government and made a priority by implementing work forces”. Instead, she continues, “it really is organisations made of driven individuals that have taken the ball and ran with it off their own backs.”.

She is right. It is the grassroots organisations that put the environmental issues on the public agenda and continue pushing them.

If I can do one thing, it is highlighting some of those stories, and help raise awareness for that particular aspect - a common plea for the higher bodies to support our cause.

Both Andy and Courtney stutter a little when I ask them if they have experienced moments of doubt or darkness in their work. There is a little laugh, and finally Courtney half-asks ‘Pretty much every day?”.

Her honesty is so important. It is undeniable that we all struggle in this field. Personally, I am being very grateful for every individual speaking up.

It is the passion that drives us, but it can feel lonely, as she points out, taking their initial beach clean-ups in Jersey as an example.

The positive and encouraging feedback was great, but she quickly had to accept that the actual manpower behind those words may not always pull through, and learned to appreciate the underlying reasons.

Courtney calls it “being a little disgruntled” for the verbal and and financial support not being met by the physical support, or “the boots on the ground” as Andy puts it. They both stress how the latter is needed as much, and in no way mean to dismiss the support they do receive.

“It’s all about manpower”, Courtney reiterates when telling me she believes that many environmental organisations can relate to that notion.

“It’s all about reducing our ecological footprint with the most amount of footprints behind you”, she emphasises.

Andy takes us away from the Jersey perspective when musing about the moments that have made the work difficult for him over the years. Putting in so much hard work in Mexico and elsewhere - relocating turtle nests day after day, only to find them poached the next.

A lot of us conservationists will tell you that it would be easy to point fingers towards evil poachers. Most of us probably did at some stage in our lives. But we’ve all had to learn to put things into perspective. As Andy puts it, “it would be the equivalent of burying gold in the bay and telling people not to go look for it”. “They’re digging up eggs that will feed their family for weeks in return for rice and other essentials”, he continues. There is a pleading note to his voice when he talks about the average turtle nest being the equivalent to maybe $5 or $10. “That’s what it takes to feed their families, and you would think that surely the governments around the world or something could team up..”, and then he is a little lost for words. “It’s so depressing almost, that disparity of worlds that can get you down”.

I feel the sadness even as I listen back to the recording of our chat. It can feel so personal for us that we almost want to pay things out of our own pockets, and it can be heartbreaking.

Yes, this is a little darker than what I usually write. But it’s exactly that pain that got me here, asking how not to resign, and what it is that keeps us going. I have seen the most passionate and intelligent, dedicated people giving up a part of themselves after hitting one wall after the other, I tell them both.

Andy is quiet for a while, and Courtney takes over.

“It’s like for all of our dark days, one fantastic moment can rectify that”, she muses.

Terri making her way back home.

She takes Terri the turtle as an example. Terri was washed up here a few years ago, and “rallied an entire community behind her to get her to the Canaries and witness the moment she was being released back on her way”.

It’s experiences like these that “completely wipe the slate clean of all that negativity”, Courtney remembers. “It almost brings you down to the core of this is what we’re really doing it for”.

“It ebbs and flows, doesn’t it?”, she half-states, half-asks, confirming how every week can be a 180.

But with Courtney, it’s acceptance speaking. It is simply a part of the game she and her partner have committed themselves to.

Her other half, however, answers my question by remembering his time in Mexico, talking about “stripping away those prejudices” when walking into a bar and enjoying a beer with the locals. Locals with machetes strapped to their belts, and being the very same people he would see down the beach at night, plundering the nests he worked all day to protect.

To put yourself in that position really takes a certain strength.

Andy’s voice, however, lifts a little when tells me how that experience felt like to him. And he starts laughing when telling me a joke he usually shares with his wife: “The best tool in conservation is a beer!”

We do laugh, but Courtney whole-heartedly agrees and supports her man. “It’s when you allow yourself to experience the other side of the street that you will truly understand the complexity on a human level, to find the common ground."

Reflecting on everything they have just told me, I ask them if hope has ever been a factor in their work in overcoming the challenges of it.

Now, as incredibly well-spoken these two are, I also know them as a fun, light-hearted, maybe slightly crazy (and oh do I mean that in the best sense possible), wild couple.

When I ask this though, there is a longer silence.

A tough question, Andy admits.

Yes, he finally does say. But for him personally, it comes down to distancing yourself from it emotionally. And once you have got something up and running, to focus on the data. Day to day, trying to stay rational. Courtney is “hmhmming” in the back. It’s always there, she agrees, but they usually try to put their science hats on.

Distancing yourself emotionally in this context takes serious strength and willpower - at least from my perspective. And they do tell me that it comes easier to Andy than Courtney. “You have the odd breakdown”, Andy says lovingly to Courtney, and we laugh quietly.

But the feeling goes deep. And it makes me wonder if maybe the fear of that very pain is what has held me back in the past?

It is also bringing us to another core question of this project. Do fear and desperation play a role in having hope? In moving forward?

Andy gives me a sense of something I have experienced with others before. He wouldn’t naturally consider it from this angle if I hadn’t asked him. He doesn’t dismiss how overwhelming the big picture can be. Which is why he consciously practises focusing on an optimistic outlook with silver linings.

Then, Courtney starts speaking. And I’ve carried her words with me since the interview. It is such a bittersweet feeling listening to her.

Sweet and hopeful for knowing that there are others who experience the same emotions as I do, and bitter for having to feel it in the first place.

“That sea turtle”, she begins, “is essentially one of the prehistoric creatures on our planet that has evolved over centuries and centuries, coexisting with dinosaurs. And it’s been only for the last century or so that they are truly threatened.” A threat that’s predominantly man-made, and these days accumulative.“And it’s when I look at the sea turtle, I almost just think you have literally just withstood the test of time, and I could potentially witness you going extinct in my lifetime”.

I wish you could hear her voice. I wish you could hear my sigh as put her words to paper.

She comes back to my question, thinking aloud how “that’s where the hope comes in - by no means are sea turtles alone in being on the brink. But for me, it’s where the push and drive come in”. And she stresses again how “they have survived the test of time and, you know, within a couple of years they could be gone”.

She takes a moment, and then adds that “it is hope that they won’t be, and it is hope that people will rectify their actions and see it in themselves that the world and natural surroundings are so much bigger than we are.”

And then, together, they make a very crucial point that “realistically, yes, we are at the top of the food chain, but at a much grander scale the line should be horizontal with everyone sitting equal”. What they both note, and I am grateful for someone saying it out loud, is that ecologists and conservationists themselves can fall into that trap. It’s what part of this project is aiming at - showing how we can battle with the same concepts. Environmental folks or not.

Listening to those two, I wonder if hope possibly is a pure defiance and unwillingness to accept a version of the future we simply do not want to live in.

“We do what we can, because we don’t want to see them extinct”, Andy emphasises. And he recommends for anyone out there “to pick their favourite species and run with it”, or to find that one thing. “What is it you still want your children to see?” he asks.

It prompts Courtney to add how “people underestimate the power they have”, and how “such small contributions can actually be so grand!”. She feels that people cannot see the contribution they’re actually making, and takes herself as an example.

Being afraid of not doing enough at times, being hard on herself for not having been to Mexico in 5 years now. Only to remind herself in the next breath that those 6 months of work led to something that is still running successfully. There is such genuine care in her words when she says that she “doesn’t ever want anybody to feel discouraged that they are not doing enough. Because grand or small, all of it is contributing.”

She’s tapping into a feeling of mine - as even with this project I have my days, wondering whether it’ll be of any meaning. Her words are encouraging as much as they are empowering.

Andy remembers how that was the original ethos behind LittleFeet: small steps to reduce your footprint. I never knew the origins of their organisation’s name.

It’s so simple, so true, and so important, so beautiful.

“Everyone could take $10 Million and may save a single species one-handedly” he argues. But “if all the people in the world do that little bit every day, we stand a much higher chance of changing attitudes, raising awareness, and ultimately solving the problems”.

True belief rings in his words.