Since writing about biomimicry, doughnut and circular economic models, I’ve found myself looking at every game drive through a different lens. It’s one thing to discuss these concepts theoretically, but quite another to witness them playing out in real-time in the bush. The more time I spend observing wildlife behaviour at Londolozi, the more convinced I become that nature has already solved many of the problems we’re grappling with in our human systems.
I was thinking back to a sighting we had earlier this year of a troop of vervet monkeys foraging through a prominent fig tree along the Sand River. What had struck me wasn’t just their selective feeding – choosing only the ripest fruits – but how their movements help disperse seeds across the landscape via their droppings. Here was a circular economy in action: consumption that feeds back into regeneration rather than depletion. The monkeys get their nutrition, the figs get their reproduction, and the ecosystem gets renewed vegetation growth. No waste, only transformation.
After the monkeys finish foraging amongst the figs in the canopies, the ripple expands as the fallen figs are quickly received and fed on by many different species, like this beautiful elephant bull. Just a simple example of life’s interconnectedness.
This observation got me thinking: what if our economic models operated with the same inherent wisdom? What if every business decision considered not just immediate profit, but the long-term health of the entire ecosystem it operates within?
The impala herds provide another great example. Their grazing patterns create a mosaic of short and long grasses that benefits countless other species, from ground-nesting birds to smaller creatures seeking different habitat structures. They’ve essentially created what economists might call “positive externalities” – benefits that extend far beyond their immediate self-interest. Yet there’s no central planning committee directing this behaviour; it emerges naturally from millions of years of evolutionary fine-tuning.
Life in abundance.
Perhaps most intriguingly, I’ve been thinking about the mycorrhizal networks that connect the trees across the reserve. These fungal networks share resources between plants – sending nutrients to struggling saplings and information about threats across the landscape. It’s a biological internet that operates on principles of mutual aid rather than competition. When I think about Kate Raworth’s doughnut model (meeting human needs within planetary boundaries), I can’t help but see parallels in how these communities of trees balance individual survival with collective thriving.
If trees could talk… would we listen?
The challenge, as I mentioned in my previous blog, remains implementation. How do we translate these natural blueprints into human systems that currently prioritise short-term gains over long-term sustainability?
Front row seats observing the wildness of our surroundings.
I think the answer lies partly in shifting our perspective from observers of nature to participants within it. Indigenous communities have long understood this interconnectedness, viewing themselves as part of the web rather than separate from it. At Londolozi, our conservation model attempts something similar, recognising that human wellbeing and ecological health are inextricably linked.
Every morning when I head out on a game drive, I’m reminded that we’re surrounded by mentors. The question isn’t whether nature has the answers – it clearly does. The question is whether we’re humble enough to listen, patient enough to observe, and brave enough to redesign our systems based on what we learn.
As these fields of biomimicry, circular economics, and regenerative design continue to evolve, I believe places like Londolozi will play an increasingly important role as living laboratories where theory meets practice, where we can test and refine nature-inspired solutions in real-world settings.
It’s a privilege to call this place home.
Thank you for this thoughtful piece. Circularity is indeed a fascinating and vast topic, and the examples you give from Londolozi show beautifully how nature achieves balance without waste.
At the same time, what troubles me is how easily the language of circularity can be manipulated when it moves from ecosystems into corporate practice. A recent experience at my place, the Stagno di Pilo in Sardinia, brought this into sharp relief. Earlier this summer, a six-meter weather balloon launched by a Palo Alto start-up was recovered in the lagoon. It had drifted all the way from Alaska for almost a month, finally landing in a highly protected habitat where it killed specimens of Aphanius fasciatus, a small endangered fish.
When I contacted the company, their main justification was that they fund “plastic offsetting” programs to balance the waste generated by their balloons (which by the way includes copper and various other metals). To me this illustrates the danger of misusing circularity: offsetting cannot undo direct harm to vulnerable species or ecosystems. True circularity should mean preventing damage in the first place, not creating negative externalities and paying to clean them up elsewhere.
I wonder: have you ever come across weather balloons scattered in the bush? I know that this same companies has an African base for launches in Kenya.
Best
Francesca
Being at home at Londolozi is indeed a wonderful and great privilege. To be able to drive in that lovely surroundings, watching all those animals and reflecting on the perfection of nature, seems to give life its perfect sense. It is a pity that somehow we humans are not really able to integrate our actions into the grander plans of nature any more, due to modern life. On the whole we are sadly no longer part of that web; so it’s even more important that there do places like Londolozi exist, where such an integration is still possible.
Somehow your point system isn’t really working at the moment, is it?
Instead of getting 80 points for commenting there are only 10 or so. And I always get a “message from World press” that something is wrong with the system.
Hi Christa, thank you so much for your message. We are aware of the issue and are working to rectify it.
Hi Kate, very sensible article. Velvet monkeys are not so often portrayed- but they are among they first examples when you study behaviours- such as their cultural habits. Ergo, learning from generation to generation to collect, prepare (wash, for example) and eat a particular
food. Elephants and impala are so amazing and each have their roles. Trees do communicate a lot, there are so many studies now focused on the elaborate way they communicating ways and actions. I have a lot to learn! You connected elements in a perfect and interesting way, talking about your field and applying it to nature. As always at Londolozi, wonderful photos.
Brilliant Kate!
Hi Kate, thanks for this story on Asking Nature for Advice. I am sure if we just look closer to nature we will be able to learn so much more. Londolozi way of conservation has achieved so much, reproduction and biomimicy and circular economics. It is important to put back into nature and see it grow.
“The question isn’t whether nature has the answers – it clearly does. The question is whether we’re humble enough to listen, patient enough to observe, and brave enough to redesign our systems based on what we learn.”
Brilliant. The struggle isn’t the concept. It’s the execution.
We’ll get there one day — or we will perish.
Let’s work on the “get there” option.
Thanks for your follow-up to part I Kate. As a result I have read more about these models and can only hope that more businesses and people will endeavor to incorporate some of their findings and examples. Implementing one or all of these models in our modern world would significantly reduce our negative footprint on earth.
With our present leadership in America they will never, ever consider anything long-term over short term profits. Environmental and climate goals will be set back for years if not decades.