Stella Egbe still remembers the first time a traditional healer handed her a list of 22 plant species meant to replace vulture parts in spiritual and medicinal practices—proof, she said, that change was taking root. In Nigeria, where only two of the country’s seven native vulture species remain, conservationists are turning to an unexpected ally: belief. The hooded vulture (Necrosyrtes monachus) and the palm-nut vulture (Gypohierax angolensis) now hover on the edge of extinction, victims of habitat loss, poisoning, and a persistent demand for their body parts in traditional medicine. But a quiet shift is unfolding. The Nigerian Conservation Foundation (NCF), led by Egbe, has been working directly with traditional medicine practitioners to reduce poaching by promoting plant-based alternatives. Their strategy isn’t about confrontation—it’s about collaboration.
For generations, vulture parts have been used across Nigeria to bring luck, enhance vision, or cure ailments, rooted in deep cultural beliefs. Chief Samson Ola Soyoye, vice president of the National Association of Nigerian Traditional Medicine Practitioners, acknowledges the tradition but sees the urgency: “That’s when the vultures were many but now [they are] rapidly going into extinction.” His call to action—“My view is to look for alternative plants instead of vultures”—is now being echoed by more than 20 plant species now used in place of vulture parts in some communities. The African mahogany (Khaya ivorensis), known locally as oganwo, and the violet tree (Securidaca longipedunculata), or ipeta, are among the most common substitutes. Yet this progress comes with its own caution: oganwo is already listed as vulnerable by the IUCN, and ipeta is showing signs of decline due to overharvesting.
The NCF is responding by planning to cultivate at-risk medicinal plants within protected areas, ensuring sustainability without shifting pressure from one threatened species to another. Regional differences remain stark. In southern and eastern Nigeria, where cultural norms traditionally forbid killing vultures, practitioners have been more receptive. But in the north and west, where vultures are seen as omens of bad luck, demand is growing—making awareness and enforcement critical. Soyoye stresses that while registered practitioners in southwest Nigeria are adopting alternatives, many others remain unaware. National enforcement against the sale of vulture parts in markets is still inconsistent.
Still, Egbe remains “cautiously optimistic.” The fact that healers are actively participating in conservation—offering plant lists, attending workshops, and spreading the word—signals a cultural shift that laws alone could never achieve. Vulture populations haven’t rebounded, and they may not for years. But in a country where belief once fueled decline, it’s now becoming a quiet force for recovery.
The work ahead is clear: scale up cultivation, deepen outreach, and strengthen laws. But for the first time in decades, the sky over Nigeria may not be emptying—it may, slowly, be healing.