I’ve spent years sketching animals in the wild—some fleetingly seen on hikes, others studied during long travels through places like the Kinabatangan River or the Arizona desert. And I’ve noticed something impossible to ignore: the environments I revisit aren’t staying the same. Ecosystems are shifting. Species I once observed regularly are harder to find. This isn’t just anecdotal—it’s one of the many signs of how wildlife is affected by climate change.
In this post, I want to unpack the direct and indirect ways climate change impacts wildlife, using both personal experience and broader research. If you’re someone who loves observing animals in their natural habitats or even just drawing them like I do, understanding these changes isn’t optional—it’s essential.
Table of Contents
How wildlife is affected by climate change
Climate change doesn’t just raise temperatures. It rewrites food chains, migration paths, and the availability of water. From coral bleaching in Oceania to shrinking snowpacks in the Himalayas, wildlife is being forced to adapt faster than many species can manage.
Shifting habitats and migration patterns
Many species rely on seasonal cues to migrate, breed, or feed. With shifting temperatures and precipitation patterns, animals are moving to new areas—or failing to move quickly enough. For instance, warmer winters in Cascadia have thrown off hibernation cycles for some mammals, leading to starvation. Birds in the Outback are adjusting their breeding seasons, but not always in sync with food availability.
In the Desert Southwest, desert tortoises and snakes are appearing at unusual times of year, sometimes during unseasonal warm spells that are quickly followed by cold snaps. These erratic temperature shifts can kill animals who have left hibernation too early.
Changes in food availability
Climate disruptions affect plant life cycles, insect populations, and aquatic systems. That means animals that depend on a specific diet can find themselves without food. When I visited Yellowstone, rangers spoke about how elk and bison are finding less forage in drought-stricken areas, which in turn affects the predators that depend on them.
In Oceania, coral bleaching caused by marine heatwaves has devastated reef systems. This impacts everything from tiny reef fish to seabirds that rely on them. I was stunned by how empty a reef can feel when it’s been stripped of life—something I wasn’t prepared for when I first visited.
Even in less dramatic environments, I’ve noticed smaller signs. On hikes through Cascadia, there are fewer pollinators during flowering season than in years past. That affects everything up the chain: birds, reptiles, and mammals that depend on seeds and insects to feed themselves or their young.
Increased threats from disease and invasive species
Warmer temperatures allow parasites and diseases to thrive in places they never did before. In the Amazon Basin, certain frogs and reptiles are being devastated by fungal infections exacerbated by shifting humidity levels. Invasive species are also moving into new regions, competing with native animals and unbalancing ecosystems.
On my last visit to Hawaii, I learned about how introduced species like rats, mosquitoes, and feral cats have pushed native birds to the brink. But climate change is now compounding that damage. Mosquito-borne diseases are spreading to higher elevations that used to be safe zones.
Key Points
- Animal migrations and breeding are falling out of sync with seasonal patterns, leading to population stress.
- Food chains are being disrupted as plants and insects respond to climate shifts differently than the animals that rely on them.
- Disease and invasive species are expanding into new regions as temperatures warm, threatening native wildlife.
What I’ve seen firsthand in wildlife-rich places
As someone who sketches and journals my encounters with animals, I tend to notice small changes. When I returned to Joshua Tree National Park a few years apart, I saw far fewer reptiles in the early morning sun. Locals mentioned that extreme temperature swings were shifting animal activity to unpredictable hours—or keeping them underground entirely.
In Ranthambore National Park, tigers were reportedly hunting more frequently near villages during hotter months, likely due to water scarcity in their usual territories. This increases human-wildlife conflict and creates tension even in places meant to protect these animals. Rangers talked about how difficult it is to manage water sources for wildlife when rainfall patterns have become erratic.
And in Sundaland, I’ve noticed mangroves creeping further inland, subtly transforming the coastline’s character—and the wildlife with it. Proboscis monkeys, for example, are losing dry ground and spending more time in unfamiliar zones.
Drawing animals during a time of change
I often sketch as a way to document—not just species, but the way they move through their environments. But climate change has added another layer. Now, I find myself drawing animals that might not be in that location in ten years. It’s a strange feeling. I wrote more about the ways I draw animals with a focus on habitat and movement, especially when I know their environment is shifting.
In my nature journaling practice, I’ve started to note temperature, rainfall, and seasonal timing. These notes aren’t just helpful for drawings—they tell a broader ecological story. And they’re proof that even artists and casual observers can contribute to a kind of citizen science.
One helpful habit has been sketching and recording animals in repeat locations. Over the years, comparing my sketchbooks shows clear patterns: species disappearing from areas they used to frequent, or new ones showing up. I wouldn’t have noticed it without the side-by-side view that sketching gives me.
Hopeful actions and places worth protecting
Despite the sobering changes, I’ve also visited places doing incredible work to protect native animals and promote resilience. In Kerala’s national parks, local guides spoke about reforestation efforts and how it’s helping native species return. In Kenya, community-based conservation has helped large mammals reclaim migratory corridors.
One of the most strategic ways we can help is by supporting ecotourism that funds local conservation. Visiting wildlife destinations with this mindset—seeking out guides, learning the environmental challenges, and contributing money to responsible tourism—can make a real difference.
If you’re planning a trip, these top wildlife destinations are a good starting point. Many of them are in areas where climate pressures are high, but where well-run tourism has helped fund important habitat protections.
You can also get familiar with different ecoregions to understand which areas are most at risk—or most important to protect. This helps when choosing where to donate, travel, or advocate for change.
Even small things matter: reducing meat consumption, flying less often, and using your creative work to talk about these changes all have ripple effects. The more connected we are to these places through direct observation, the harder they are to ignore.
For a global overview of how species are shifting, the IUCN Red List is a good resource.
