journal biological conservation

Let’s cut to the chase: yes, journal biological conservation is reputable. Like, “you’ll get invited to keynote conferences if your paper gets accepted” reputable. It’s published by Wiley, the same folks who bring you the Journal of the American Medical Association—but instead of stethoscopes, they’re holding binoculars and GPS trackers. It’s indexed in Scopus, Web of Science, PubMed, and every database that matters to researchers who don’t want their life’s work buried in a paywall graveyard.

Think of it like the New York Times of ecology—except instead of politics, it’s tracking the decline of amphibians in Costa Rica or the genetic drift in isolated populations of grizzly bears in Montana. The editorial board? A who’s who of conservation giants: scientists who’ve literally written the textbooks. You don’t just submit to this journal—you earn your spot.

Oh, absolutely—journal biological conservation doesn’t just do peer review, it throws a full-on symposium for it. Every single manuscript gets scrutinized by at least two, often three, independent experts who’ve spent decades in the field. These aren’t grad students checking grammar. These are senior researchers who’ve published 50+ papers, sat on IUCN panels, and once spent 47 days in a tent in Borneo just to count orangutans.

The process? Brutal. Elegant. Necessary. You submit, they send it out. Then silence. Weeks pass. You start wondering if your data is garbage or if the reviewers are just too busy saving the planet to read your 12-page manuscript. Then—bam. Three pages of comments. “Your sampling design ignores landscape connectivity.” “Your statistical model assumes normality where none exists.” “You mention ‘biodiversity’ 17 times without defining it.”

And you know what? You come back. You revise. You resubmit. Because in the world of journal biological conservation, peer review isn’t a hurdle—it’s the compass. Without it, you’re just shouting into the wind.

Let’s talk numbers. The journal biological conservation rejection rate hovers around 85%. Yep. You read that right. Eighty-five out of every hundred submissions get sent back to the author with a polite, yet devastating, “not suitable for publication.”

Why so high? Because the bar isn’t just high—it’s on a mountain peak with a drone overhead. The journal gets over 1,500 submissions a year. Only about 200 make the cut. That’s less than one in seven. It’s more selective than Harvard’s undergrad admissions. And honestly? That’s a good thing.

It means your paper isn’t just “interesting.” It needs to be transformative. It needs to offer new methods, new data, new frameworks for understanding how ecosystems collapse—or how they heal. If your study just says “deforestation is bad,” you’re gonna get ghosted. But if you show *how* deforestation alters pollinator networks across 12 biomes using machine learning and satellite imagery? Now you’re talking.

“If you’re not getting rejected by journal biological conservation, you’re not pushing hard enough,” says Dr. Elena Vasquez, a professor at UC Davis who’s had three papers accepted—and six rejected—before landing her breakthrough on pollinator resilience.

Here’s where journal biological conservation stops being a journal and starts being a megaphone. Governments don’t just glance at it—they cite it. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service uses findings from this journal to draft Endangered Species Act amendments. The European Commission references it when setting Natura 2000 boundaries. Even the UN’s IPBES reports lean heavily on its data.

Remember the 2019 Global Assessment Report on Biodiversity? Over 60% of the primary literature cited came from journals like journal biological conservation. It’s not just academic—it’s actionable. When a paper in this journal shows that protected areas are 40% more effective when connected by wildlife corridors, someone in a D.C. office picks up the phone and says, “We need to fund this.”

It’s the quiet engine behind the scenes. No flashy TED Talks. No viral TikToks. Just cold, hard, statistically robust science that changes laws.

journal biological conservation doesn’t care if you’re studying pikas in the Rockies or sea turtles off the coast of Belize. What it cares about is scale, rigor, and real-world relevance. They publish:

• Meta-analyses of extinction risk across 200 species
• Long-term monitoring of forest fragmentation impacts
• Novel modeling of climate-driven species range shifts
• Economic cost-benefit analyses of conservation interventions
• Community-based conservation models with Indigenous partnerships

It’s not just about listing species. It’s about asking: How do we make conservation work in a world where people are hungry, poor, and desperate? That’s the sweet spot. The journal thrives on papers that bridge the gap between the lab and the living world.

One recent standout? A study from the Appalachian Mountains that used AI to detect illegal logging via satellite and drone footage—then partnered with local churches to turn data into community patrols. That’s the kind of work that gets published here. Not just because it’s smart. Because it’s alive.

Patience, grasshopper. With journal biological conservation, you’re not waiting for a Netflix binge—you’re waiting for a slow-burn documentary. The average time from submission to first decision? Around 8–12 weeks. That’s longer than most undergrad semesters.

Then, if you get revisions (and you will), you’ve got another 4–6 weeks to resubmit. After acceptance? Another 3–5 months before it’s officially published online. So yeah—total timeline? 6 to 10 months. That’s not a bug. It’s a feature.

Why so long? Because every figure, every statistical test, every citation gets double-checked. They don’t rush. They don’t cut corners. They’d rather wait six months and publish something that lasts than rush out something that dies in six weeks.

And when it finally drops? You’ll see it cited in policy briefs, textbooks, and TEDx talks. Worth the wait? Absolutely.

Let’s talk numbers. The latest Journal Citation Reports (2024) put the journal biological conservation impact factor at 6.8. Not the highest in the world? No. But in the world of conservation science? It’s top-tier. Top 5. Period.

Compare it to Science (IF: 56.9) or Nature (IF: 64.8)—those are the rockstars. But journal biological conservation is the steady, reliable bass player who keeps the whole band in tune. It’s not trying to be the loudest. It’s trying to be the most meaningful.

In its category—“Conservation Biology”—it consistently ranks #1 or #2. Out of 120+ journals. That’s not luck. That’s legacy.

And here’s the kicker: its CiteScore? 8.9. That’s higher than half the journals in ecology. It’s not just read—it’s used.

It’s not just academics. Nope. The readership? A wild mix:

• University professors who’ve got tenure and still read every issue
• NGO directors who use it to justify funding requests
• Government biologists drafting regulations
• Grad students who print out the PDF and tape it to their fridge
• Even private landowners in Montana who want to know if their 500-acre ranch can be a wildlife corridor

The journal’s open-access options? They’re expensive—$3,500 USD—but worth it if you’re in a low-income country and need your work to reach policymakers who don’t have journal subscriptions.

And guess what? The most downloaded articles? Not the ones with fancy stats. The ones with real stories: “How a single road closure saved a population of desert tortoises.” “The day the wolves came back—and the farmers stopped shooting.”

journal biological conservation doesn’t just report on nature. It makes you feel it.

Alright, you’ve got your data. You’ve got your hypothesis. You’ve cried over your regression output. Now what?

Head to Onomyscience.com and scroll down to the Journals section. There’s a link. Click it. You’ll land on the Wiley submission portal. Read the guidelines. All 17 pages of them. Don’t skip the part about figure resolution. Seriously. They’ll reject you if your TIFF is 72 dpi.

Make sure your abstract is tight. No fluff. No jargon without definition. No “more research is needed” unless you’re willing to say what kind.

And here’s the secret: cite at least three papers from journal biological conservation in your references. Not because you’re kissing up—but because you’re showing you understand the conversation.

And if you get rejected? Don’t take it personally. Send it to another journal. Or better yet—revise. Come back stronger. Because this journal doesn’t just want your paper. It wants your commitment.

Let’s be clear: journal biological conservation doesn’t just follow ethics. It sets them.

They require:

• Proof of ethical approval for fieldwork involving animals
• Detailed data availability statements
• No plagiarism, ever—checked via iThenticate
• Conflict of interest disclosures
• Authorship criteria that match ICMJE standards

And here’s the kicker: they require you to report negative results. Yeah. If your intervention failed? Publish it. Because failing is how science learns. Too many journals bury the “no effect” papers. This one? It screams them from the rooftops.

One paper in 2023 showed that fencing off a wetland to protect frogs actually increased invasive species. It was rejected by three other journals. Then it landed here—and became one of the most discussed papers of the year.

That’s the power of integrity.

Where can I access journal biological conservation archives?

You’ve got options. If you’re affiliated with a university, log in through your library portal. Most have a subscription. If you’re not? Wiley offers pay-per-view for $42 USD per article. Ouch.

But here’s the golden ticket: Journals on Onomy Science has a curated list of open-access alternatives, and Free Academic Journal Articles Download Easily is a lifesaver for students and independent researchers. Don’t sleep on it.

Also, check out the journal’s own archive on Wiley Online Library. Back issues from 1987? All there. You can read the original paper that first warned about amphibian declines in the 90s. Chills.

References

1. https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/journal/15231739
2. https://www.scimagojr.com/journalsearch.php?q=17004&tip=sid&clean=0
3. https://www.webofscience.com/wos/woscc/summary/8a4d8a1e-7a1d-4f4e-8d6b-1a7e7b9d7d8e-19f3d3d9/relevance/1
4. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8187478/
5. https://www.ipbes.net/global-assessment