
Pablo 'Popi' Garcia Borboroglu has dedicated his life to protecting penguins around the world
The first time National Geographic Explorer Pablo 'Popi' Garcia Borboroglu set foot in a penguin colony, he felt the world fall into place. Swept up in the overwhelming energy of half a million black-and-white, flightless seabirds surrounding him on the Patagonian coastline, Borboroglu experienced his own eureka moment.
'I felt that they were so vulnerable and that I needed to help them. It's not something that I can easily describe, but I felt like I needed to dedicate my life to them.'
He was only 19 years old during that life-changing visit, but Borboroglu had actually been hearing about penguins for almost as long as he could remember. Growing up in Argentine Patagonia, he was enraptured by his grandmother's stories of traveling by horse and wagon to visit penguin colonies during the 1920s and 30s. 'She was participating in ecotourism a hundred years ago!' he marvels.
These stories nurtured a budding appreciation for the birds that would later blossom into full-blown career ambitions when the window of opportunity came.
In his early 20s, after putting his original plans to become an ambassador on hold, Borboroglu was back in Patagonia working as a tour guide. 'During those years in the province I live in, 40,000 penguins died annually due to oil spills,' he recalls. 'I would come to the beach and see penguins dying or dead, covered by oil.' A young Pablo 'Popi' Garcia Borboroglu releasing a rehabilitated Southern Rockhopper penguin after an oil spill affecting 17,000 penguins in Patagonia in 1991. Photograph courtesy Pablo Garcia Borboroglu
Heart stirred by the aftermath, he set up a rehabilitation center to nurse affected penguins back to health and soon came to a realization: 'I couldn't dedicate my life to washing penguins. I need to be more useful to them.' Borboroglu returned to university, focusing this time on a doctorate degree in marine biology with a specialization in seabirds, particularly penguins.
He hasn't looked back since. In a career spanning over three decades and counting, Borboroglu cofounded the International Union for the Conservation of Nature's (IUCN) Penguin Specialist Group and conducts research at the National Scientific and Technical Research Council (CONICET) of Argentina. He heads up the Global Penguin Society , an international organization advancing the conservation of all penguin species and their ecosystems through scientific research, protection of penguin habitats and education. Through their continual efforts, the Global Penguin Society has been able to protect a cumulative 32 million acres of penguin habitat and 2.5 million penguins worldwide. National Geographic Society
Recognized numerous times for his impact in penguin conservation, Borboroglu received the Whitley Gold Award and Rolex Award for Enterprise in 2018, and the Indianapolis Prize in 2023. This year, the National Geographic Society has named Borboroglu a Rolex National Geographic Explorer of the Year recipient alongside fellow Explorer Bertie Gregory for their joint contributions to wildlife conservation. 'Every nest, a different story'
Borboroglu firmly believes there's still more to be done, and that urges him into the field day in and day out with various Global Penguin Society project teams. 'We have actions in different countries going at the same time. Depending on the time of year, I'll go to New Zealand, to Chile, to Argentina to help out the teams that are operating there.'
At the time of this writing, it's summer in the Southern Hemisphere — breeding season for almost all penguins. Borboroglu is currently working at Magellanic penguin colonies near his home in Patagonia.
'It's a big moment for them right now,' he says. After three months of staying in their nests and being fed by their parents, the chicks have grown large enough to venture into the ocean for the first time.
For the Global Penguin Society, breeding season means an abundance of data to collect. They conduct censuses on colonies to estimate population size over time, an indicator of colony success. Marking hundreds of nests at the beginning of summer, they follow each egg and chick to quantify breeding performance. An aerial view of the Natural Reserve 'San Lorenzo' in Península Valdés, where a colony of around 400,000 Magellanic penguins live, the biggest in the world. Photograph by Luján Agusti Borboroglu with penguins in their nest at the Natural Reserve 'El Pedral' in Punta Ninfas, home to a colony of around 8,000 Magellanic penguins. Photograph by Luján Agusti
'Every nest is a different series, a different story, and we've studied so many penguins for so long. In one of the colonies, one pair has been together breeding and meeting for at least 17 years.'
To understand penguins' ocean activity, Borboroglu and his team attach waterproof tracking devices on adults to learn where in the ocean they search for food, how far they must swim and how deep they dive.
Certain penguins are outfitted with water-activated critter cameras on their backs. When they enter the ocean, the cameras start rolling, filming up to 10 hours in high definition. 'We see how penguins get together with other penguins, how they chase the fish, and how they collaborate with each other to get more food. Sometimes you can see how the species compete with their prey, and sometimes they dive so deep that it goes completely dark.'
Interacting with the penguins has always been a highlight in Borboroglu's work. He carefully steps around the small birds and their nest entrances, offering greetings as he makes his way through the colony.
'Going back to a penguin colony is always a party, so I say, 'Hola, chicos,' like with friends. Every time we measure them or we deploy a track, I like to thank them because they're making a contribution: 'Thank you for carrying this. Thank you for bringing the information.'' Borboroglu and Candela Tisera Manochio — a member of the Global Penguin Society — put a tracker on a penguin's back at 'San Lorenzo' Natural Reserve in Península Valdes. Photograph by Luján Agusti
Using all this data, the Global Penguin Society creates maps that visualize penguin movement in the ocean. Currently following the swimming routes of eight Magellanic penguin colonies in Patagonia, they've affectionately given each of the tracked penguins a name and profile. Many are named after celebrities — there's a Taylor Swift and a Messi that penguin enthusiasts can follow along on their ocean journeys on their website .
While the names are all in good fun, Borboroglu shares, 'all this tracking information is important because it allows us to justify if there is a need for protection in certain regions of the ocean.' The 'perfect explorer'
For most of their existence, penguins have adapted extraordinarily well to changes in their environment, he explains.
From their origins in New Zealand over 60 million years ago, they swam across ancient waters to take up residence in the tropical and desertic climes of South America, South Africa and Australia, and put down roots in the inhospitable, icy conditions of Antarctica. 'People get disappointed in my talks when I say, 'I'm sorry, penguins are not originally from Antarctica,'' he laughs.
Dubbed the 'perfect explorer' by Borboroglu, some penguin species like the Magellanic swim an estimated 10,000 miles per year between swims for food and their seasonal migration according to the Global Penguin Society's tracking data. In perspective, that's the equivalent of swimming around the planet 12 times in one penguin's lifetime, around 35 years.
Other species like Antarctica's emperor penguins don't migrate, but they brave temperatures of minus-60 degrees Fahrenheit and winds gusting over 100 miles an hour while incubating eggs. They dive 1,500 feet deep in frigid waters and can stay there for about 23 minutes. Adult emperor penguin resurfacing from a dive. Photograph by Paul Nicklen Sourced from: Secrets of the Penguins, copyright (c) 2025, NGC Network US, LLC. Graphic by Kara Basabe, National Geographic Society
Today, however, penguins have the lowest adaptation speed of all birds. Over half of all penguin species are listed as threatened by the IUCN.
Borboroglu and his colleagues considered the effects of factors like ocean temperature or animal size on adaptation speed, but he's not confident in any explanation for the stark decline in penguin adaptation yet. 'This only makes the need to protect penguins more urgent than ever,' he emphasizes, 'or the current pace of climate change will exceed the adaptive capability of penguins.'
The Global Penguin Society keeps a watchful eye on how warming seas are causing shifts in prey distribution, leading to penguins traveling even longer distances and expending more energy to hunt. Intensifying heatwaves bring lethal temperatures for penguins, and trigger wildfires. 'That's a big problem because penguins do not seem to recognize the fire as a threat,' Borboroglu explains. 'In contrast with other species, they don't escape, they don't run away. They just stay in their nests and die.'
With such global phenomena in mind, their goal is to minimize the impact of human-related threats as much as possible so penguins might be better able to cope with the effects of climate change.
Offshore oil developments and spills contaminate or destroy marine environments that penguins rely on, harming both them and their prey. Fisheries — especially those that are mismanaged and located near existing colonies — compete with penguins for food. It's not uncommon for Borboroglu to receive reports of penguins entangled in nets during fishing operations.
In cases like these, the Global Penguin Society's faithful data collection on penguin range in the ocean becomes powerful leverage in the push for conservation measures. 'We can say, 'Okay, there's a problem here,' because penguins overlap with fisheries at sea, and then we see if we can create a marine protected area there or improve the management of their activities.' Magellanic penguins at Natural Reserve 'El Pedral' in Punta Ninfas. Photograph by Luján Agusti
Borboroglu estimates that penguins spend 80% of their lives in the ocean — that's why Global Penguin Society has focused heavily on the creation of marine protected areas to protect pristine ocean habitat. 'We only see them on land because they need a dry place to build a nest and incubate the eggs. Otherwise we wouldn't be seeing them,' he jokes.
Lately, however, Borboroglu's become increasingly concerned with human disturbance on land.
In 2022, he was alarmed to find a landowner had bulldozed over 22,000 square feet of a colony in Patagonia during the summer breeding season and constructed a mile-long road, destroying an area dense with burrow nests that harbored chicks and eggs.
Borboroglu's team collected evidence of the destruction and brought it to court — the first environmental case to receive an oral trial in Argentina's history. 'It was devastating, it was exhausting,' he recalls.
After a three-year legal battle, the landowner was found guilty, and a proposal to expand the protected area of the land from 210 to 1,600 hectares was approved, safeguarding 180,000 penguin pairs among other wildlife. A provincial law to protect all wildlife is in progress, alongside proposals to include environmental crimes in the national penal code. Facts are amazing as long as they are shaped in a way that can reach the emotions of people. I'm hopeful that people will learn more, but more so that they will feel that penguins and their oceans deserve our attention and action.
'We need to be able to protect the most fragile place, the colonies where the penguins are for months, protecting their chicks and eggs with their partners. [This case] highlighted the need for more legislation to protect and prevent future harm to the environment. And I think more is needed everywhere, globally.'
It's Borboroglu's longstanding hope that one day, penguins and humans will reach a harmonious coexistence. While the landowner case ended in litigation, the Global Penguin Society usually opts to negotiate through colony management plans in conversation with governments, landowners and other interested parties.
'You kind of design the use of the colony. Say this area is very fragile, so people cannot get close to this space. But this other area can be used for science; this one can be open for visitors and photos.'
The Global Penguin Society encourages well-managed ecotourism, creating jobs that incentivize the community in a positive feedback loop. 'As soon as the community sees that it's much better to protect, that's a home run, because then you don't need to be there policing people. They become the wardens. I think that's the great success when people really buy into what conservation means.'
To Borboroglu, it's about creating a holistic culture of conservation. He sees it as a slow, educative process, sharing values that become part of a cultural inheritance transmitted from generation to generation. He connects the idea back to his own origins, of his grandmother telling him stories and implanting an early love for the animals.
Now 36 years into the job, Borboroglu's tireless passion is clear as he talks about penguins. 'How can we quit if we see these little guys? They face incredible challenges — storms, predators, climate change — and yet they keep going, focused and determined. Being surrounded by these penguins, it fuels my conservation energy tank somehow.' Borboroglu and Manochio with a Magellanic penguin after taking measurements at 'San Lorenzo' Natural Reserve. Photograph by Luján Agusti
Hard won victories also give him hope. Seventeen years ago, Borboroglu's team discovered a new colony of only 12 penguins in an area impacted by heavy human disturbance: hunting, fishing, setting bushfires and trash disposal. Working together with the landowner to establish protections, the colony began to grow. Today, that colony is over 8,000 breeders strong.
'I'm positive because I see the effects of action. They weren't useless. I see a lot of areas that are now protected and there are hundreds of species thriving there because we did something. When you do something, you fight the anxiety.'
Right now, Borborolgu is preparing for the premiere of National Geographic's ' Secrets of the Penguins ,' the latest documentary series in the Emmy-award winning 'Secrets of' franchise, executive-produced by National Geographic Explorer at Large James Cameron .
While it won't be his first on-screen appearance, it will be the first show that challenged him to share the magnitude of never-before-seen penguin behaviors with an audience.
In one scene, Borboroglu is nestled on the rocky Falkland Islands (Islas Malvinas) coast, witnessing two different species of penguin — a rockhopper and a macaroni — breed successfully and raise viable 'rockaroni' offspring. 'That was unbelievable, like witnessing evolution with your own eyes.'
He hopes the wonder of such moments permeates through the screen, instilling within viewers a sense of awe that morphs into deeper empathy.
'Facts are amazing as long as they are shaped in a way that can reach the emotions of people. I'm hopeful that people will learn more, but more so that they will feel that penguins and their oceans deserve our attention and action.'
With 'Secrets of the Penguins' shining a light on all the astonishing ways these small seabirds carve out their survival across the Southern Hemisphere, the world draws one step closer to the culture of conservation that Borboroglu believes in.
'We are all so connected on this planet. It gives us everything, so there are many things we can do to thank it, to change its trajectory. It's up to us.'
ABOUT THE WRITER
For the National Geographic Society: Melissa Zhu is a Content Strategy Coordinator for the Society with a love for language's ability to articulate the fullness of human experience. When she's not focused on advancing the nonprofit mission of Nat Geo, you might find her immersed in a good book.
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Equipment bunker (½ mile away): Shelters containing seismographs to measure the bomb's ground shock and other instruments were located about 2,400 feet from ground zero. The cables were strewn about, and the top of the bunker was bare, all the dirt the SED members had layered on top of it was gone, according to Brodie. Schmidt/McDonald Ranch House (2 miles away): The government took over the Schmidt/McDonald ranch in 1942, and scientists and military personnel later used it as the assembly site for the Trinity test bomb. Though the explosion blew out the windows and doors, there was little structural damage to the house. Bunkers (6 miles away): It took about 30 seconds for the shock wave to reach Fitch, by his calculations. Base camp (9.5 miles away): Some observers were knocked over by the force of the blast when it arrived, according to Reed. "Thirty seconds after the explosion came first, the air blast pressing hard against the people and things," Farrell wrote. Fermi, who was a few miles farther than Fitch, put the time of the shock wave at 40 seconds. 15 miles away: The force caused sheepherder Jack Denton to fall off of his cot, Brodie reported. Silver City (120 miles away): Whole houses shook, windows shattered, and dishes and cabinets rattled when the shock wave reached nearby cities. Fallout rained down, burning cattle located 30 miles away Ground zero: In the minutes after the blast, the mushroom cloud stretched 50,000 to 70,000 feet into the atmosphere, the New York Times reported. As the fireball cooled, vaporized fission products condensed into a cloud of particles while also sucking in water from the atmosphere. This debris became radioactive fallout, according to Reed. In addition, 10 pounds of highly-radioactive plutonium never underwent fission and got caught up in the fallout cloud, according to National Geographic. Bunkers (6 miles away): Prior to the test, scientists set a limit of 5 roentgens, a legacy measure of radiation exposure, then bumped it up to 10 for evacuations. One bunker did evacuate for what may have been a false reading, according to Reed. Director of the health group at Los Alamos Louis Henry Hempelmann later called the numbers "just arbitrary," according to the book "Atomic Doctors: Conscience and Complicity at the Dawn of the Nuclear Age" by James L. Nolan Jr. "Exposure rates in public areas from the world's first nuclear explosion were measured at levels 10,00 times higher than currently allowed," a 2010 report for the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found. Author and journalist Jennet Connet noted that as close as the men were to ground zero, they had little protection. "Had the wind been blowing the wrong way, they all would've been showered in a fair amount of radioactive dust," she said. A few days after the test, a technician found radiation had destroyed some of the camera film, according to Brodie. Bingham (12 miles away): About four miles outside the town of Bingham, some equipment measured 6.5 roentgens per hour, but the town's residents weren't evacuated, according to Brodie. Chupadera Mesa (30 miles away): Fallout rained on cattle near Chupadera Mesa, giving them serious beta burns, which appear similar to a sunburn. Their fur fell out, then grew back gray or white, according to Nolan. The government purchased some of the cows for testing. Oscuro (45 miles away): Strange white flakes fell for days on a family farm, where later the chickens and family dog died. Ruidoso (50 miles): Some teenage girls at a dance camp fell out of their bunks and heard an explosion. Later, what felt like warm snow drifted down on them. They put on their bathing suits and rubbed the flakes on their faces, according to National Geographic. Only two of the girls lived past the age of 30, Nolan reported. Tularosa (51 miles away): Eleven-year-old Henry Herrera watched the fallout cloud drift away then return to Tularosa. Black ash covered the Herreras' laundry on the clothesline, according to Brodie. Over 100 miles away: The cloud split into three, mostly drifting northeast, raining fallout over an area of about 100 miles long by 30 miles wide. A 2023 Princeton University study used weather data and modeling software to show how the cloud spread over northeast New Mexico, as well as to the south and west of ground zero. Trinity test "downwinders" have been lobbying to receive compensation from the Radiation Exposure Compensation Act (RECA). Members of the Tularosa Basin Downwinders Consortium say their families have unusually high rates of cancer, which they attribute to living close to the atomic bomb testing site. Over 1,000 miles away: In August 1945, Kodak customers complained that their X-ray film, sensitive to radiation, was ruined. Kodak physicist Julian Webb found that the culprit was the strawboard, a packaging material made of straw, from a mill in Indiana. The Trinity test fallout had reached the Midwest. The Princeton study showed radioactive fallout reached as far as Canada and Mexico over the course of 10 days. Read the original article on Business Insider