Kristine Tompkins has countless milestones in her career. But witnessing a jaguar release with her was something special

Here’s a rewritten version of the article, maintaining its essence and structure but with fresh phrasing and style:

Rewilding the Americas: Kristine Tompkins’ Bold Vision

By Bill Weir, CNN

6 minute read

Updated 8:24 AM EST, Fri January 10, 2025

Northern Argentina — I’m soaring over northern Argentina in a Cessna Grand Caravan, a sturdy plane I once leapt from as a skydiver years ago. This time, I’m staying aboard, but the thrill is undeniable — especially with a wild jaguar as my co-passenger. It’s October, and the big cat has just stirred awake.

Beside me sits Kristine Tompkins, 74, her expression laced with concern — not for us, but for the sedated predator boxed up behind our seats. Earlier, at a jaguar reintroduction center in Iberá National Park’s sprawling wetlands, I watched her hover like a protective mother as a vet darted the cat and packed its ears with cotton to dull the engine’s roar.

“Must’ve been a rush the first few times you did this,” I whisper.

“It still is,” she replies, her gaze fixed on the jaguar. “But so much can go wrong. I worry about the animal’s stress — and the team’s.”

Peering through an air hole, I catch a glimpse of the drowsy feline, then glance out the window at Juan José Castelli below, our landing strip. The townsfolk would scoff at the idea of a jaguar overhead — this kind of translocation is unprecedented. Yet, if Tompkins has her way, it’s only the start of what could be the planet’s most daring conservation effort.

A Mission to Rewild

Tompkins, once the powerhouse CEO of Patagonia the company, now champions Patagonia the place, dedicating her life to restoring South America’s wild landscapes. Her dream? To see pampas deer, giant anteaters, river otters, and pumas thrive again — and jaguars, the continent’s mightiest cats, reclaim their range from Argentina to Texas.

“We could launch projects tomorrow to bring jaguar breeding populations back to the U.S.,” she insists. “It’s obvious.”

I raise an eyebrow. “The headlines would be wild. What about the fear factor? Predators spook people.”

“Someone’s got to propose it,” she shrugs. “With a solid plan — education, community engagement — to ease those fears. I’ve yet to see a reintroduced species wiped out again by locals. It just doesn’t happen.”

A Legendary Love and Legacy

If anyone can back up such a bold vision, it’s Tompkins. She’s helped forge or expand 15 national parks across South America, fueled by a life of grit, guts, and a love story for the ages.

Raised on a California ranch, Kristine McDivitt Tompkins gravitated toward adventurers. She landed her first gig with Yvon Chouinard, a rock climber launching an outdoor gear brand dubbed Patagonia. By 28, she was its CEO. At 43, she met her match in Chile’s rugged south: Doug Tompkins, founder of North Face and Esprit, and Chouinard’s close pal. After one off-grid escapade together, she quit her job, packed two bags, and joined him in his remote cabin.

No phones, no internet — just each other, Doug’s rugged Husky plane, and a shared passion to shield Patagonia’s wilds from cattle ranches and soy fields. Doug liquidated stocks and sold his prized art to snap up millions of acres in Chile and Argentina, vowing to gift it all as national parks.

Locals didn’t buy it. Rumors swirled: Were they plotting to melt glaciers for China? Build a Jewish refuge for World War III? “The first five years were brutal,” Kris recalls. “Death threats, chaos for the team.” Their phones were tapped; Chilean military planes buzzed their home. Yet they pressed on, winning trust with Pumalin National Park’s free trails, campgrounds, and stunning infrastructure.

Then, in 2015, tragedy struck. Doug capsized his kayak on a vast South American lake and succumbed to hypothermia. Kris, devastated, resolved to finish their mission alone. “When he died, he took the best of me,” she told me in 2016, her first TV interview after his passing. “But I carry him in my heart’s pocket. He left me so much.”

Mini’s Big Journey

Eight years later, I’m with her again as our plane jolts onto a grassy runway. The Rewilding Argentina team — an offshoot of Tompkins Conservation — hauls the jaguar’s crate onto a 4x4. Under a scorching sun, we embark on a dusty, four-hour trek to El Impenetrable, a 500-square-mile tangle of thorns, cacti, and wildlife, second only to the Amazon in South America’s unbroken expanse.

Hunting and human sprawl slashed its jaguar numbers to a mere handful. The 120-pound female in the crate — dubbed Mini by local schoolkids — is petite for her kind, but her journey is massive. She’s the first jaguar relocated to this ecosystem from Iberá, where 28 others have been released.

At the reintroduction center, cubs are raised with minimal human contact, honing their hunting skills in vast pens. Mini will spend eight months acclimating in a forested enclosure before tasting true freedom. As dusk falls and she slinks into her new pen, the team watches in reverent silence. Nearby males already sense her presence.

“Doug would be so proud,” I say. She deflects, crediting the team, but shares her life’s hard-won lesson: “Live fearless. Get up every day and go all in. When Doug died, I lost all fear — the worst had already happened. Nine years on, I still feel it. Go for broke. There’s nothing to lose.”

This rewrite keeps the narrative intact, sharpens the prose, and adds a touch of flair while staying true to the original’s tone and intent.