This article is part of an extensive storytelling series delving into Lebanon’s gems, best practices, successes, and unique features, with a special focus on environmental issues and protection. The series strives to portray Lebanon through the lens of its places and people.

In the dense woodlands of Qammouaa, the high ridges of Akkar, and the deep valleys of Hermel, an overlooked world still stirs at dusk. Despite decades of degradation, Lebanon remains home to a surprising number of wild species like wolves, wildcats, hyenas, foxes, wild boars, jackals, and an astonishing range of birds, many of them rarely seen by the general public. With forests under pressure and biodiversity disappearing from view, documenting these elusive species has become an urgent environmental priority.

Much of what is known today about Lebanon’s large mammals comes not from official surveys but from patient fieldwork and remote camera traps. In areas with little to no formal wildlife monitoring, evidence of native species is collected through plaster tracks, audio recordings, night-vision equipment, and partnerships with shepherds, farmers, and residents. These local contributions like reports of wolf howls in the mountains or owl sightings near orchards, form the backbone of a growing grassroots wildlife archive.

Mr. Philip Ayoub Wildlife Photographer

Wolves once roamed the entire Middle East, regulating prey numbers and keeping forests healthy, but persecution and rapid urban growth drove them toward extinction. Lebanese wildlife photographer Philip Ayoub’s footage and DNA samples confirm that small packs still survive. “People keep telling me wolves are long gone,” he says with a half-smile. “Seeing their eyes catch the light of my lens is the best reply.” By documenting fresh prints after winter snows and recording nocturnal howls, he builds a grassroots archive of Lebanese wolves confirming their continued presence in northern Lebanon, mostly in isolated family units.

The challenges facing wildlife in Lebanon are vast. Illegal hunting remains widespread, despite seasonal bans and international pressure. Many protected species are shot for sport, either deliberately or out of ignorance. Forest fires, often human-caused, are increasing in frequency and intensity, destroying habitats and pushing animals closer to urban areas. Urban expansion, quarrying, road construction, and waste dumping continue to fragment once-continuous ecosystems into isolated pockets, limiting animal movement and reducing genetic diversity.

Despite economic turmoil and environmental neglect, Philip’s work offers cautious hope. Images reach audiences that research papers rarely touch, prompting questions, school projects, even small municipal bans on night hunting. In a country where nature is often an afterthought, photography can turn disbelief into protection.

Several citizen-led initiatives and independent researchers are filling critical gaps in Lebanon’s conservation map. They track wildlife corridors, collaborate with rural communities, and share data with environmental NGOs. Local residents, especially in mountain and agricultural zones, often serve as the first to notice shifts in animal behavior, be it an increase in owl calls or a decrease in hedgehog sightings, acting as informal stewards of Lebanon’s natural wealth.

Lebanon’s environmental future remains uncertain. But the resilience of its hidden wildlife, and the quiet efforts to document and defend it, offers a sliver of hope. The country’s wild species are not traces of the past. They are present, active, and waiting to be recognized. What they need now is space, protection, and the collective will to let them thrive.

Article: Rouba Boustany
Photos: Wildlife photographer Philip Ayoub – Personal Archive