Israeli wildlife photographer Erez Marom has spent over a decade capturing breathtaking images of Vietnam's most endangered primates, from the golden-cheeked gibbon in Khau Ca to the Cat Ba langur in the north and the red-shanked douc on Son Tra Peninsula in central Vietnam. His powerful photographs showcase both the majesty and fragility of these rare species, aiming not only to display their beauty but also to raise critical awareness about their desperate fight for survival. "The moment I saw these animals I was both joyful and fearful," Marom explained, "because it might be the last time humans could see them in the wild."
The dwindling numbers of these rare animals have prompted conservationists to refer to them as "the ghosts of Vietnam's forests." Vietnam stands as one of Southeast Asia's most biodiverse countries, yet more than half of its 24 primate species are now classified as endangered or critically endangered due to habitat loss, poaching, and the illegal wildlife trade. Marom has witnessed this tragic transformation firsthand, noting in his travel journals that "Vietnam's forests are still there, but quieter than ever. Many are breathtakingly beautiful, but the creatures that inhabit them now survive in only a few scattered groups."
Marom's photographic journey has taken him repeatedly to Vietnam's most remote and challenging locations, including Cat Ba Island, Son Tra Peninsula, the limestone mountains of Van Long, and the forests of Khau Ca. During these expeditions, he has documented species once feared extinct, including the Cat Ba langur, the red-shanked douc, the white-cheeked crested gibbon, the golden-cheeked gibbon, and the Tonkin snub-nosed monkey. Each encounter tells a compelling story of both loss and remarkable resilience in the face of extinction.
On the limestone cliffs of Lan Ha Bay, Marom observed and photographed a family of Cat Ba langurs as they leaped gracefully between rocks in the morning sunlight. These highly social primates, like all langur species, embrace when they meet and live in tightly bonded family groups. Once believed to number fewer than 50 individuals in 2000, their population has increased to approximately 90 today thanks to dedicated conservation programs. "They move like dancers," Marom observed, "graceful, yet cautious, as if knowing one misstep could mean the end of their lineage."
Leaving Cat Ba, Marom traveled to Son Tra Peninsula in central Vietnam to encounter what he calls the "jewels of the jungle" – the red-shanked douc, often referred to as the world's most beautiful primate and known locally as the "dancing treasure" of Son Tra. With their stunning seven-colored coats and gentle, almost smiling faces, these monkeys appear almost mythical as they gather near their favorite food sources, such as fig trees. Marom captured them perched among fruit-laden branches, sometimes playful, sometimes perfectly still. "I always try to photograph them in their habitat," he emphasized, "because that is where they belong, and that is what is disappearing." Son Tra now serves as home to more than a thousand red-shanked doucs, Vietnam's largest population of this species, yet urban development and increasing tourism continue to threaten their long-term survival.
In Van Long Nature Reserve in Ninh Binh Province, northern Vietnam, Marom spent days concealed among towering karst cliffs, patiently waiting to glimpse the elusive Delacour's langur, known locally as the "limestone ghost." With only a few hundred individuals remaining in the entire world, all located in Vietnam, this species ranks among the planet's rarest primates. These remarkable langurs display a striking orange color in their youth, gradually losing this vibrant hue as they mature, eventually developing the vivid, monochromatic coat characteristic of adult langurs. "They are as fast as the wind, gone in seconds," Marom recalled of his encounters. "But when I saw them huddling together in the sunset, I understood why the Vietnamese call them the souls of the limestone mountains." His photographs from Van Long later gained international recognition for both their artistic excellence and their power to highlight Vietnam's significant conservation achievements.
The most challenging and demanding segment of Marom's photographic journey led him to the remote region of Khau Ca, home to the extraordinarily rare Tonkin snub-nosed monkey, considered one of the world's rarest primates. This grueling expedition lasted over a week and involved steep mountain climbs, sleepless nights, and simple meals consisting of cold rice. "Every step on the razor-sharp ridges was a challenge," he recounted, "but when I saw a group with infants, every bit of exhaustion vanished." Remarkably, his guides through this treacherous terrain were former hunters of the same species who have now transformed into dedicated rangers and conservationists. "They know the forest better than anyone, and now they protect it," Marom noted with admiration.
Marom's comprehensive photo series, titled "Ghosts of the Jungle," has since been exhibited internationally, successfully drawing global attention to Vietnam's extraordinary natural beauty and its increasingly fragile biodiversity. The brown-legged gibbon, with its stunningly beautiful coat, represents just one example of the magnificent species featured in his work. "The most beautiful photographs aren't those perfect in light or composition," Marom reflected, "but those that make people want to protect what they see." His images serve as a powerful message that forests are not merely something to admire from a distance, but ecosystems that require active protection and conservation efforts.
Across Vietnam, local communities and conservation organizations are working tirelessly to restore damaged forests and protect these rare primates, yet development pressures remain immense and ever-present. Every act of environmental restraint, from refusing to purchase wildlife products to supporting sustainable tourism initiatives, becomes a meaningful act of hope for these endangered species. Marom's work demonstrates that conservation success is possible, as evidenced by the gradual recovery of some species like the Cat Ba langur, while simultaneously highlighting the urgent need for continued protection efforts.
As Marom prepared to leave Vietnam once more, he made a solemn vow to return, not merely to capture more photographs but to witness whether these magnificent creatures still exist in their natural habitats. "Vietnam's forest still breathes, though its breath is fragile," he wrote in his final travel notes. "And if one day the call of the gibbon no longer echoes in the misty dawn, it will be a loss not only for Vietnam, but for all humanity." Marom's extraordinary body of work stands as a quiet but powerful reminder of the urgent need to protect these forests now, before all that remain are ghostly images visible only through the lens of a camera.
