The mangrove that an artisanal fishing community in Ecuador is helping to protect and that is fundamental in the fight against the climate crisis.

September 9, 2025, 9:00 AM Updated: 09.09.2025 09:00

Puerto Buena Vista Island, in Ecuador, is home to a small village of crab fishers and fishermen in the middle of the Gulf of Guayaquil: 140 people, 30 families, whose houses—squeezed together—are a row of blues, reds, yellows, and greens. Access is via a handcrafted dock made of wood so thin it looks like it might split at any moment. On the village esplanade, a piece of land cracked and eroded by the water that invades it every rainy season, 10 crab fishers gather to chat. In front of them: the mangrove.

For 11 years, the Puerto Buena Vista Artisanal Fishing Association—which began with 18 crab fishers and now has 25—has been part of the "Sustainable Use and Stewardship Agreements for Mangrove Ecosystems (Auscem)" program. Through this program, the Ministry of the Environment grants mangrove tracts of land as concessions, allowing them to extract crabs and sell them as a means of livelihood, and to become their guardians.

The program began in 1999 and, according to experts consulted for this report, has been an effective mechanism for containing the massive mangrove clearing that occurred between the 1970s and 1980s—amid the shrimp boom and urban expansion. During that time, Ecuador lost more than 27% of the country's mangrove vegetation.

Currently, according to Ministry figures, there are more than 98,000 hectares under concession to various associations in five coastal provinces of Ecuador: Guayas, Esmeraldas, El Oro, Manabí, and Santa Elena. This represents 62% of the country's 157,000 hectares of mangroves. Ten more applications are pending.

And it's thanks to this program, according to experts, that the country's mangrove reserves have remained almost unchanged throughout this century: by entrusting these communities with the mangroves, they generate a sense of belonging and a need to protect them. In this way, they fill a gap in the State's inability to exercise effective control in areas as remote as Puerto Buena Vista.

The communities that occupy the shores of the Gulf of Guayaquil play a vital role, as 80% of Ecuador's mangroves are found here. In addition to Puerto Buena Vista Island, the area also includes El Conchal Island, Puerto Salinas Island, Santa Rosa Island, Las Loras Island, San Vicente Island, Tamarindo Island, Puerto Roma Island, and Puerto La Cruz Island. To locate themselves and mark their maps, residents use names invented by their ancestors: La Zanja, La Caleta, La Punta de la Virgen, El Letrero.

In the information provided for this report, the Ministry explains that, by joining the program, these crab fishing associations commit, among other things, to: protect this ecosystem and report any impact; submit a management plan and comply with it; use only permitted fishing gear; comply with closed seasons (periods during which crab harvesting is prohibited) and minimum catch sizes.

The life of crabbers revolves around the mangroves. It's a trade inherited and taught to children from the age of 12. The species they fish for is the red crab (Ucides occidentalis). Since the concession only allows the extraction of adult male crabs—with a shell length of at least 7.5 centimeters—the first thing they must learn is to differentiate them from females and young crabs. "You start by seeing the size of the hole and the amount of mud a crab sheds from its burrow," says one of the crabbers gathered by the shore. "A big hole and a lot of mud means a male," explains another. "In summer, you can also see the size of the footprint in the sand."

César Rodríguez, the commune president, offers another, more technical explanation: “It's also because of the crab's cephalothorax. That's what the 'navel' area is called: in the male, it's thin and flat; in the female, it's round, like a tummy. You can't miss it. Also, the female's leg is small and bumpy, with lots of dots; the male's is large and smooth, without dots. From a distance, you can already tell if it's a male or a female.”

Rodríguez is married but has no children. He bought a boat on credit, which he paid off in a year and a half, and now earns $250 a month thanks to the sustainable use of crabs.

The Puerto Buenavista Association protects 450 hectares of forest. They work from Monday to Saturday, and on a good day, Rodríguez can catch about 56 crabs, which are tied together in a long line called a "plancha." He can sell that same plancha at the Caraguay market for about $45 or $50.

On Sundays, however, they take turns in alphabetical order to make rounds through the mangrove. They call it a "custody routine." "Each routine takes two hours and two people," says Rodríguez.

In 11 years, they only caught people cutting down their mangroves once. It was in 2016, and it was staff from one of the shrimp farms. They notified the Ministry of the Environment, as stipulated in the agreement, and the authorities took action. The logging stopped. It hasn't happened again.

Puerto Buena Vista has no drinking water, sewage system, or any kind of telephone service. There is wireless internet, which works only in certain areas, and electricity only between 6 p.m. and 11 p.m., thanks to a generator they bought through a fundraising campaign. The water they use for bathing, showering, and washing clothes comes from a well they dug to reach a source of fresh water; and the water they use for drinking is purchased from barges that pass by each island weekly. They charge $3.50 for a 60-gallon tank, which lasts all week.

The only school in the area is called Gabriel García Márquez. It's located at the back of the village, surrounded by a grocery store, the church, children running around, and an elderly woman watching everything through the window of her house.

Nobody teaches high school. When kids turn 14 or 15, it's time to start crabbing.

The fishing season is closed twice a year: once in February, the crab mating season; and again in August or September, the time when they molt. Since fishing is prohibited, they stock up and spend those months mostly at home.

“Life in a mangrove is truly a spectacle,” says biologist Natalia Molina, a research professor at the School of Environmental Sciences at the Universidad Espíritu Santo (UEES) in Guayaquil. Ecologically, she explains, mangroves have unique conditions that differentiate them from other ecosystems: they are considered amphibious because they live between water and land; and they thrive in brackish water, a mixture of fresh and salt water.

This gives them their tremendous capacity to retain carbon. "There is a wealth of organic carbon (from living organisms) stored in mangroves, at a faster rate and in greater quantities than in other ecosystems," he says.

Why do they retain more carbon? The exchange of fresh and salt water allows nutrient cycling to occur much more rapidly than in other ecosystems: when the tide rises, many marine organisms arrive, aiding degradation; when the tide recedes, countless bacteria remain, accelerating all the biogeochemical processes in the soil.

"In tropical rainforests, all organic matter is washed out of the soil by rain, and the carbon is stored in the parts exposed to air (aboveground biomass). In mangroves, organic matter and carbon accumulate in the soil, up to two meters deep," adds researcher Molina.

Furthermore, as trees and shrubs with "woody flora" (which develop strong, sturdy stems covered in bark, which provides them with strength and vertical support, allowing them to grow tall to compete for sunlight), they have a large amount of leaf litter, which decomposes quickly thanks to unique bacterial complexes, favoring carbon storage. "And a third factor," the expert continues, "is the constant exchange of nutrients due to the influence of the tide."

This ability of mangroves quickly helps retain greenhouse gases. This, for Molina, represents a great benefit for the environment. But there are also benefits for the communities that live around them: “They have a much healthier environment, cleaner air, which is beneficial to their health. And now there is even talk of seeking financial compensation for the blue carbon that mangroves retain, which could represent an additional benefit for these people,” says the expert, although she clarifies that the value of each ton of blue carbon retained by mangroves has not yet been determined.

In 2024, the UEES published the "Guide to Ecuador's Mangroves," a project led by Molina that identified 13 species. One was classified as "near threatened," four as "vulnerable," seven as "least concern," and one was not assessed.

To explain the functions of these species, Molina compares them to a team. First and foremost are the red mangroves, which serve as protectors: “Mangroves protect the coastline, capturing the salinity that comes from the sea. Where mangroves have been removed, the soil becomes saline. They also protect us from waves and storm surges.”

In the second row, further inland, are the white and black mangroves, with pencil-like roots and another function: stabilizing the soil. And further back, in the third row, are others that Molina calls "facultative," such as the button mangrove, which sheds its leaves and serves as food for many organisms.

“It’s a wonderful piece of architecture, a condominium with space for everyone,” says Molina.

A 10-minute boat ride from Puerto Buena Vista Island is Puerto Roma Island, the most populated island in the Gulf, with 1,500 people, 95% of whom depend on crab fishing. Its dock is large and made of sturdy materials. It has a community center, a small soccer field, a long street that starts dry but ends as muddy as the mangroves; and, next to several docked boats, fishermen washing crabs from the day's catch.

The town—like so many others—was built on migration. “My grandfather told me that at first there were three small houses,” says Máximo Jordán, president of the May 21st Association. “Then there were eight, fifteen, and so on. There are people from many places, and they learned to be crab farmers.”

They also don't have running water or telephone service; the internet arrived with the pandemic because the children couldn't study. They have a more powerful generator and electricity from 5:30 p.m. until midnight.

In Puerto Roma, there are 316 crab collectors: 230 in the 21 de Mayo Association and 86 in the 4 de Octubre Cooperative. They care for 3,000 hectares of mangroves. To conduct their patrols, they organize themselves into groups of 12 or 14 people, with four trips per week. “The days aren't fixed, but rather rotate. And so are the hours: sometimes at 5 or 6 in the morning, sometimes at 2 or 3 in the afternoon,” explains Jordán.

In 11 years of the concession, they have also not recorded any cases of logging, but they do battle every week against a fishing technique they call a "trap." To make the trap, crabbers who invade their mangroves place nets over the entrance to the crustacean's burrow; when the crab emerges, it is trapped. The net is placed with roots that they break and drive in like stakes. The mangrove is damaged, and many females and young fall in.

“Each female crab can have more than 260,000 babies at a time, and they catch them in traps. This is prohibited, but it's done,” says Jordán. That's why, whenever they find someone setting a trap, they force them to retreat; and on their patrols, they dedicate themselves to removing traps and freeing as many females as possible.

“If we hadn't had this strategy (of granting concessions for mangrove areas), we would have much less mangrove forest now,” says biologist Natalia Molina of the UEES. “If we're talking only about vegetation,” she adds, “in 37 years (between 1969 and 2006), we lost 27%, which is equivalent to about 56,000 hectares. But if we include the salt marshes—the esplanades within the mangrove forest that play a vital role—we lost 50%. While that doesn't mean they no longer exist, these strategies (such as the patrols) have managed to contain logging.”

The presentation of the 'Guide to Ecuador's Mangroves' states: “Nationally, mangroves have been exploited for timber, charcoal, and tannins. But the most significant impact has been the conversion of mangrove areas into aquaculture, salt production, and agriculture (…) Between the 1970s and 1990s alone, Ecuador lost 27.6% of its mangrove forests, primarily due to the shrimp industry and urban expansion.”

The shrimp industry is the darling of the Ecuadorian economy. In the first quarter of this year, it ranked first among non-oil exports, representing total sales of over $1.8 billion and 326,000 tons.

Along the Gulf of Guayaquil, the places where the mangroves are suddenly cut off by shrimp ponds are clear; fishing boats frequently cross paths with barges—large vessels—that can carry hundreds of pounds of shrimp feed, tractors, dump trucks, and other machinery used by exporters.

Pablo Guerrero, director of marine conservation at WWF, has been studying the mangrove swamp for five years. He describes three phases: the first (the "shrimp boom"), which saw accelerated deforestation to establish the ponds; the second (from 1990 to 2000), which he calls a stabilization phase, when the expansion of logging halted; and a third, a recovery period through these concession agreements.

Currently, he adds, logging is minimal—some shrimp farms, people looking for their wood—but the number of hectares of mangroves has remained stable for 26 years, and that is a “good indicator.”

After analyzing 20 concession areas in the province of El Oro, the thesis "Effectiveness of Sustainable Use and Stewardship Agreements for Mangroves," published in 2019 by the Universidad Técnica Particular de Loja (UTPL), concludes that: "They are an effective tool for the conservation of the mangrove ecosystem and for the economy of ancestral communities."

WWF, along with other organizations such as Conservation International and The Nature Conservancy, is part of the Global Mangrove Alliance. The Ecuador chapter includes members from academia, communities, and scientists.

As part of its work, WWF has not only provided communities like Puerto Buena Vista with communication radios and computers, but has also assisted in demarcating and marking the concession area, and in preparing reports. "The important thing is for the communities to exercise self-monitoring," says Guerrero.

"It's a fantastic strategy," he says, "because the Ministry of the Environment lacks oversight capacity in remote locations. Empowering the community, with the rights granted to them by the concession to manage the area, is good, because they are the ones most interested in ensuring everything is preserved. And they provide a service to the State, which is located in Quito and Guayaquil, far from where the action is."

Currently, he adds, logging is minimal—some shrimp farms, people looking for their wood—but the number of hectares of mangroves has remained stable for 26 years, and that is a “good indicator.”

After analyzing 20 concession areas in the province of El Oro, the thesis "Effectiveness of Sustainable Use and Stewardship Agreements for Mangroves," published in 2019 by the Universidad Técnica Particular de Loja (UTPL), concludes that: "They are an effective tool for the conservation of the mangrove ecosystem and for the economy of ancestral communities."

WWF, along with other organizations such as Conservation International and The Nature Conservancy, is part of the Global Mangrove Alliance. The Ecuador chapter includes members from academia, communities, and scientists.

As part of its work, WWF has not only provided communities like Puerto Buena Vista with communication radios and computers, but has also assisted in demarcating and marking the concession area, and in preparing reports. "The important thing is for the communities to exercise self-monitoring," says Guerrero.

The crab farmers smile spontaneously. César Rodríguez, the president of Puerto Buena Vista, says that joining and being part of the conservation agreements has been a good decision: “It has helped protect the mangrove, to understand its importance, as well as that of our crustacean, the crab. We want it to be something long-term, something that reaches us all. It feels like it's ours, our mangrove. That's why we take care of it this way, so that no one cuts it down, so that no one invades.”

The sun hasn't yet fully risen, and at times, dark clouds cover the Gulf of Guayaquil. Donald Trump's decisions in the United States regarding international cooperation have forced organizations that supported them to temporarily suspend their work. But Pablo Guerrero of the WWF says they are seeking other means of funding to vigorously restart the process in the mangroves.

The return journey takes another hour, and upon arriving in Guayaquil, the first thing you see is the Caraguay market, the largest seafood market in Ecuador. The platform where the fishermen sell their products is a square of cement filled with constant activity. The crab fishermen are left behind, resuming their routines of caring for and protecting the mangroves.

(*) This article is part of a collaborative special between Mongabay Latam, EL TIEMPO, La Barra Espaciadora and Runrun.es