I did not enter wildlife through a straight line.
There was no clear blueprint. No one handed me a map and said this is how you become a conservationist. I built this from curiosity and repetition. From being outside. From paying attention to the animals most people overlook. Reptiles. Amphibians. Insects. Soil.
My foundation started with environmental studies coursework, but my real education came from doing the work. Fieldwork. Animal husbandry. Research teams. Cleaning enclosures. Preparing diets. Monitoring behavior. Observing patterns. Learning patience.
I have worked hands on with reptiles and amphibians in professional settings and in conservation spaces. I have worked as a Wildlife Care Specialist. I have worked in commissary operations preparing diets for hundreds of animals. I have assisted with research projects. I have documented environmental surveys. None of that came from theory alone. It came from showing up consistently.
At the same time, I realized something important. Conservation work is invisible to most people. If we do not document it, translate it, and make it accessible, it stays in the background.
So I taught myself how to film.
I invested thousands of dollars into cameras, lenses, lighting, audio, stabilization, storage. Not because gear makes the mission, but because storytelling matters. I learned how to edit. I learned sound design. I learned how to structure a narrative that moves someone emotionally while staying scientifically grounded.
Everything under Herp Hero Wildlife Foundation was built from scratch. No production team. No outside funding in the beginning. Just consistency and reinvestment.
I also learned how to screen print. I wanted to understand branding from the ground up. How fabric holds ink. How heat sets a design. How physical merchandise can carry a conservation message into everyday life. That process taught me patience and intentionality. It also reminded me that movements are built with tangible things, not just ideas.
Gardening changed me too.
Working with soil is humbling. You learn quickly that you are not in control. You are collaborating. Native plants. Pollinator species. Seasonal timing. Water management. Soil health. Every decision affects something else.
Hydroponics taught me something different. Controlled systems. Nutrient balance. Light cycles. Precision. It showed me how fragile food systems are and how dependent we are on infrastructure that most people never see. Growing food, even on a small scale, shifts how you view conservation. It becomes less abstract. It becomes daily.
Gardening and hydroponics shaped how I understand ecosystems. Nothing operates alone. Wildlife conservation is not just about protecting an animal. It is about protecting the systems that allow that animal to exist. Soil. Water. Microorganisms. Climate stability. Community access to green space.
My work has extended beyond my own backyard and city. I have collaborated with organizations outside of the country. I have worked alongside research teams. I have documented conservation efforts in different landscapes and different cultural contexts. That exposure reshaped how I view environmental justice. Conservation is not separate from people. It is intertwined with access, equity, education, and voice.
As a Black conservationist working in a field that historically has not reflected many of us, I understand how visibility matters. I do not take lightly the responsibility of being seen in these spaces. Representation is not symbolic. It is structural. It changes who feels invited.
Content creation for me is not about attention. It is about translation. Taking scientific work and making it understandable. Taking fieldwork and making it relatable. Taking climate data and making it human.
I am a zookeeper. A herpetologist. A gardener. A hydroponics learner. A filmmaker. A photographer. A screen printer. A researcher. A community member.
All of those roles inform each other.
When I am preparing diets for animals, I am thinking about agriculture systems. When I am tending plants, I am thinking about pollinators and habitat loss. When I am filming, I am thinking about how to make someone care enough to act.
This is not a hobby. This is not a phase. This is a lifelong commitment to protecting biodiversity while building platforms that allow others to enter the work with confidence.
I am still learning. I am still building. I am still investing in the mission.
And I believe conservation is strongest when it is hands on, visible, and rooted in community.
If you are here, take your time. Explore the work. Ask questions. Build with me.
The planet needs more people who are willing to learn, document, grow, and protect what remains.