It begins, like so many transformative journeys, with a camera, a story, and a sense of purpose. For Dereck and Beverly Joubert, world-renowned wildlife filmmakers and co-founders of Great Plains Conservation, their mission started in Botswana in the early 1980s with a second-hand film camera found in a forgotten cabinet.
From that pivotal moment, they’ve crafted award-winning documentaries, launched ambitious conservation initiatives, and redefined what it means to live — and work — in the wild.
“We were working in a research institute,” recalls Dereck. “It had fallen into disrepair. I opened a cabinet, found a film camera, and I thought — I can do this. And that afternoon, I was filming. That first shot ended up in a BBC documentary.”
Today, their work is broadcast to global audiences, their voice a powerful one in the fight for environmental preservation. But the story of their success is as personal as it is profound.
A shared vision, a singular life
“We met and realised we were kindred spirits,” Beverly says. “From the beginning, it was clear — our love for wildlife, for each other, and for storytelling all intertwined.”
Neither came from a filmmaking background. Dereck’s father was in mining; Beverly’s mother worked in accounting. But the pair found their calling not just in documenting the world’s wildest corners, but in protecting them. Their filmmaking journey began not out of ambition, but necessity.
“What we were witnessing — like the drying up of the Okavango’s channels — had never been recorded,” says Beverly. “We realised we needed a canvas to reach the world. That’s when filmmaking became a tool.”
They’ve worked shoulder-to-shoulder ever since, forming what is arguably one of the most intimate and committed creative partnerships in wildlife filmmaking. “There’s no crew,” Dereck explains. “It’s just the two of us. We shoot, record sound, edit — we do it all. That’s how we stay invisible to nature.”
A different way of storytelling
While many production crews parachute in with scripts and schedules, the Jouberts’ approach is slow, immersive, and deeply emotional. “We follow the animals, not the storyboard,” says Dereck. “That means if the story changes — as it did when a snake killed a leopard’s cubs — we adapt. That moment became the story.”
This intimacy brings with it a powerful emotional charge. “We experience grief, joy, anxiety — because we’re right there,” Beverly adds. “We know each lioness. When people watch our films, they often say, ‘We forgot it was an animal. It felt human.’”
One of their most extraordinary experiences came while filming Eye of the Leopard, when a young leopard killed a baboon and a live newborn fell from the carcass. “We thought it was over,” Beverly remembers. “But she gently picked it up. She cared for it, curled around it to keep it warm. It was maternal. It was stunning. And it was science-defying.”
Living with the lightest footprint
For all the cinematic glory, theirs is not a glamorous life. They live in remote mobile camps, cook meals on the car’s manifold, bathe using solar-heated water draped over the bonnet, and often sleep atop vehicles during night shoots. But every decision is guided by their strict ethical code.
“We’ve always believed in zero impact,” Dereck says. “No fire traces. No permanent structures. No interference.” They recall living six years in the bush without a visible track to their camp. Even their choice of lens — 1000mm telephotos — reflects their desire to remain unseen by their subjects.
Their code goes beyond the environmental. “We had to design our own code of ethics — because there’s no one out there to police us,” says Beverly. “We consider it a failure if an animal notices us. We want to be silent witnesses.”
Big cats, bigger causes
Over decades, their deep connection with wildlife led to activism. “We realised we were making our names off the backs of big cats — while their numbers were plummeting,” Dereck reflects. “That leopard we followed changed everything. She showed us these animals are individuals. Characters. Personalities. And they were being hunted.”
They launched the National Geographic Big Cats Initiative, which has since distributed 157 grants across 29 countries. Now part of the Great Plains Foundation, their work supports conservation, community development, and rewilding — including moving 3,000 animals, such as elephants and rhinos, to safer habitats.
One standout project? The Maasai Olympics — created to replace the tradition of killing lions with athletic contests. “Thousands of warriors now compete, not kill,” Beverly explains. “It’s a total cultural shift.”
The quiet crisis of climate change
In their decades on the frontlines of Africa’s wilderness, the Jouberts have witnessed the insidious impact of climate change. From elephants dying of heat exhaustion to unprecedented flooding in Kenya, they’ve seen how fragile these ecosystems really are.
“In the Okavango, droughts are more severe, rains are unpredictable, and entire populations are shifting,” says Dereck. “It’s a slow-motion disaster. But it’s visible, and it’s real.”
Still, they remain hopeful. Their rewilding projects in Botswana and Zimbabwe, and education efforts in Kenya (where they feed 18,000 children daily across 51 schools), show what’s possible when conservation and community align.
A life of no compromise
Their partnership — both personal and professional — defies convention. “We flipped the traditional model,” Beverly explains. “Most couples spend a few hours together each day. We chose to spend every moment together. And that’s our strength.”
They’ve faced life-threatening encounters — from elephant charges to a near-fatal buffalo goring that left Beverly with 27 broken bones. But their bond, resilience, and shared mission have carried them through. “We always have each other’s backs,” says Dereck. “That’s what keeps us going.”
Looking ahead
With no plans to slow down, the Jouberts are working on a memoir, a new series on the Maasai Mara, and Wild Eye, a photographic retrospective of Beverly’s 40-year career. “We’ll keep filming, keep protecting, keep telling stories,” Beverly says. “This is who we are.”
And their call to action? It’s clear and universal.
“We can’t wait for politicians to save the planet,” says Dereck. “We, the people, must lead. Be hopeful. Be loud. Be relentless. Because conservation isn’t about animals. It’s about us — and whether we deserve to share this planet.”