From Stockholm to South Africa, Zimbabwe, Kenya, and the remote shores of Sable Island, Hanna Wigart’s journey has been shaped by a deep love for wildlife, photography, research, and conservation.

With a Master’s degree in Zoology and a career that has taken her from wildlife rehabilitation to camp management in the Maasai Mara, Hanna has built a life around wild places and the stories they hold. In this interview, she shares the experiences that changed her path, the challenges of working in conservation, and why even small actions can create meaningful impact.

 

Can you tell us a bit about yourself and what first inspired your journey into working with wildlife?

I’m from Stockholm, Sweden, and hold a Master’s degree in Zoology. I’m also a wildlife photographer. Growing up, I always knew that I wanted to work with wildlife, I just didn’t know how. For much of my life, I wanted to become a veterinarian, but a trip to South Africa in 2014 changed everything.

I took a gap year and volunteered at a wildlife rehabilitation centre for six weeks. From that experience, I realised two things: I loved wildlife photography, and I wanted to become a zoologist.

Since then, I have obtained my Master’s degree in Zoology, moved to Zimbabwe on a whim to manage various wildlife, community, and photography projects, become a wildlife photography teacher and guide, assisted injured and orphaned wildlife, met the love of my life, and built a life between Zimbabwe, Sweden, and Kenya.

 

 

What does a typical day in your life look like when you’re out in the wild?

In my current career, I work as a Camp Manager together with my other half, Prince, who is from Zimbabwe, in the Maasai Mara, Kenya. Every day looks different, but one thing always stays the same: we are surrounded by wildlife here.

My days consist of checking rooms, attending to guests, welcoming new arrivals, creating content, assisting guests with their cameras, handling camp administration, and managing staff.

At times, I go out to assist guests with photography or to capture images for the marketing team. The wildlife viewing in Mara North Conservancy, where the camp is located, is spectacular. You never know what incredible sighting the day will bring, and that excitement never fades.

At night, we go to sleep hearing the sounds of lions, hyenas, hippos, buffaloes, giraffes, and more.

 

 

What has been one of the most memorable or transformative moments you’ve experienced in your work?

It is incredibly hard to choose, but from a zoological perspective, two experiences stand out. The first is working as a field researcher on Sable Island, Canada, and the second is raising an orphaned baboon and an orphaned vervet monkey in Zimbabwe.

I wrote my Master’s thesis on the Flight Initiation Distance in foals on Sable Island in 2017, and the project was nothing short of epic. I spent six weeks on the island with an incredible team, collecting data on wild horses that roamed freely on a remote island in the middle of the ocean.

Being selected for this project was an honour, especially as I had no idea such a place even existed beforehand. The island and its horses were truly magnificent. Life there was harsh, with no human interaction allowed and no veterinary intervention.

I never expected to love working with primates as much as I did, but I still think about them to this day. It fills my heart knowing that the vervet monkey has been successfully released into the wild with a new troop, while the baboon remains in rehabilitation with the hope of one day being released with her own troop.

Working with primates felt very much like working with toddlers. They are personable, intelligent, and endlessly fascinating. If I ever returned to wildlife rehabilitation, I think I would choose to work with primates again, something I never expected to say.

From a photography perspective, some of my most meaningful work came from collaborating with non-profit organisations. While living in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, I started a programme where I offered free photography services to both wildlife and community-based non-profits.

Through this, I met incredibly inspiring people and was able to donate my time and skills instead of money, which I was not able to do at the time. Together with Tay Belcher, I also co-founded a children’s wildlife photography club at a local community school. We taught weekly classes on wildlife photography and camera use, and watching the students grow was an unforgettable experience.

 

 

What challenges have you faced along the way, and how have they shaped your perspective?

One of the biggest challenges of working with wildlife is financial insecurity, along with learning to distinguish genuine, impactful conservation from greenwashing.

People in conservation care deeply about what they do, and many willingly sacrifice financial stability to pursue opportunities they have always dreamed of. While organisations often lack funding due to the highly competitive nature of conservation, this can also result in skilled individuals being taken advantage of. This is something I experienced myself, as do many people I know and network with, both locals and internationals.

This reality takes a serious toll on mental health and remains a common topic among conservation professionals.

Another challenge is realising that not everyone in conservation has their heart in the right place. I have witnessed this first-hand and felt great disappointment. Competition for limited funding often leads organisations to duplicate efforts rather than collaborate for greater impact.

This environment also fuels greenwashing, where young professionals trust what more experienced figures tell them without realising the ethical shortcomings behind certain projects. This happened to me, and it became a powerful learning experience. I now use that knowledge to help others avoid similar mistakes in their careers.

 

 

If you could share one message with the world about the importance of wildlife and conservation, what would it be?

If you are doing something, you are doing enough.

It is easy to feel guilt and believe we are not doing enough for conservation and wildlife, but that mindset leads to burnout. Working with wildlife and conservation takes an emotional toll, and it’s important to take care of your mental wellbeing.

Small changes, when adopted by many people, create meaningful impact. Choosing more sustainable products, supporting charities or ethical brands, and sharing information about inspiring projects all contribute to the bigger picture.

Yes, we could always do more, but we cannot do more if we are burned out physically or emotionally.

 

 

Do you have a favourite species or place in the wild that holds special meaning for you? Why?

Sable Island and its wild horses continue to hold a special place in my heart. Even eight to nine years later, I still dream about that place. It feels almost mythical, and I hope to return one day.

The images I captured there remain some of my favourites, and it is where my passion for zoology, research, and wildlife photography truly came together.

 

 

How can people best support or get involved with the work you’re doing?

Although I am not currently working with NGOs or providing free photography, I strongly believe that photographers can make a meaningful difference by donating images. This form of support can sometimes be more impactful than donating money.

By offering time and skills, photographers can help non-profit organisations gain visibility and effectively promote their work. Many non-profits lack the time, resources, or equipment to produce high-quality images or videos, and they benefit greatly from photographers who can assist them.

If someone has other skills, I encourage them to explore how they might donate their time in a similar way.

You can also follow me on Instagram @hwwildphotos, where I share my images, videos, behind-the-scenes moments, and photography tips. I’d love to connect with you there.

 

---

Hanna Wigart’s story is a beautiful reminder that a life dedicated to wildlife can take many forms. From zoological research and wildlife rehabilitation to photography, education, camp management, and community-based projects, her journey shows how passion can evolve into purpose in unexpected ways.

Her perspective is also an important reminder that conservation is not always simple. It takes resilience, discernment, collaboration, and care, not only for wildlife, but for the people working to protect it.

Whether through photography, volunteering, ethical choices, or simply sharing stories that matter, Hanna’s message is clear: meaningful change does not always come from doing everything. Sometimes, it starts with doing something.