Oceanographic Magazine / Issue 32 by Oceanographic Magazine

ISSUE

Conservation • Exploration • Adventure

SENTINELS OF CHANGE E X P L O R I N G T H E I M PA C T S O F A W A R M I N G PLANET ON PENGUIN COLONIES

“Creation” Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2021 Grand Title winner © Laurent Ballesta

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Editor’s Letter “ Th e c l i m a t e crisis has a r r i ve d . ”

We’re in the middle of it. Wildfires are devastating communities around the world, entire coral reefs are bleaching due to unprecedented ocean surface temperatures, and the ice caps are melting. This edition of Oceanographic explores what climate change means for species and ecosystems around the world. We find out how animals are coping and learn more about the positive stories that offer glimmers of hope amidst the negative narratives surrounding climate change. In Antarctica and the remote Subantarctic regions, penguin species are already feeling the effects of global warming. Shifting ice patterns, altered ocean currents, changes in food availability, and an unusual increase in rain and snowfall have affected their breeding success and survival rates. What does the future hold for these charismatic flightless birds? On Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, an underwater art installation is a stark reminder of what we stand to lose if we don’t act now. “Our oceans are going through rapid change. Part of creating an underwater museum is about changing our value systems – thinking about the sea floor as something sacred, something that we should be protecting and not taking for granted,” says Jason deCaires Taylor, the artist behind the installation.

Nane Steinhoff Editor @nane_steinhoff

In the Mediterranean, red sea fans experienced a major mortality episode in the summer of 2022. Researchers believe this event is most likely linked to the particularly high temperatures experienced in the region during that summer. Despite this sad event, a scientific exploration programme discovered a glimmer of hope in the deeper parts of the ocean: Gorgonians in deeper water seem to be able to resist climate change. They now want to find out why.

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Contents O N T H E C OV E R

FEATURE S

UNCERTAIN FUTURE

Researchers have established that penguin species are already feeling the brunt of global warming. What does the future hold for these charismatic flightless birds?

A pair of chinstrap penguins resting on a small iceberg. Photograph by Julia Chandelier.

Get in touch ED I TO R I A L D I R E C TO R

Will Harrison

ED I TO R

Nane Steinhoff

CR EAT I V E D I R E C TO R

Amelia Costley

CO N T R I B U T I N G E D I TO R

Hugh Francis Anderson

D ES I G N A S S I S TA N T

Joanna Kilgour

PA RT N E R S H I P S C O N S U LTA N T

Steph Pomphrey

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YO U R O C E A N IMAGES

@oceanographic_mag @oceano_mag Oceanographicmag

A S S TO C K E D I N

For all enquiries regarding stockists, submissions, or just to say hello, please email info@oceanographicmagazine.com or call (+44) 20 3637 8680. Published in the UK by CXD MEDIA Ltd. © 2023 CXD MEDIA Ltd. All rights reserved. Nothing in whole or in part may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher.

ISSN: 2516-5941

A collection of some of the most captivating ocean photography shared on social media, both beautiful and arresting. Tag #MYOCEAN for the opportunity to be featured within these pages.

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PR O FIT-S HA R ING CO M MITM ENT TO O CEA N CO N SERVAT IO N . A PR O M IS E WE'R E PR O UD O F.

U NDERWATER A RT

D EEP G O R G O NI A NS

R A P TO R HOT S POT

POSITIVE CHANGE

Within the realms of the Great Barrier Reef, the Museum of Underwater Art seeks to foster change by blending art, marine science, and conservation.

In the Mediterranean, a scientific exploration programme seeks to gain a better understanding of red gorgonians and their ability to resist climate change in deeper parts of the ocean.

Around 20,000 ospreys are attracted to Chesapeake Bay annually. The decline of one little fish, however, is playing a significant role in the decreasing breeding success of the species.

Over 100 juvenile whale sharks visit the waters around La Paz annually. After unsustainable wildlife tourism resulted in problems, a collaborative conservation approach turned the face of the city's whale shark tourism around.

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BEHIND TH E L E N S

C O LUMN S

T H E O U T L AW O CEA N R EP O RT ER

T HE OC E A N AC T IV IS T

Each issue, we chat with one of the world’s leading ocean photographers and showcase a selection of their work. In this edition, we speak with underwater photographer and expedition leader Shane Gross.

In his latest column, investigative journalist and director of The Outlaw Ocean Project, Ian Urbina, meets a woman who traverses the globe in a converted medical ship to provide abortions in places where it has been criminalised.

Hugo Tagholm, executive director and vice president of Oceana in the UK, explains how healthy ocean ecosystems play a crucial part in our wellbeing and outlines why it is so important to protect marine parks.

Cal Major, ocean advocate and founder of the charity Seaful, reveals why the Treshnish Isles in Scotland are so special to her.

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SHANE GROSS

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Aaron Sanders Cornwall “Iridescent skin stood out against the black water like a star in the sky; this tiny bobtail squid hovered amid a plume of suspended sediment as though a celestial being floated through space. Shooting with a slow shutter speed, I captured its trail of motion and used a special lighting technique to colour the blur pink.” SPONSORED BY

#MYOCEAN

Billy Arthur Shetland Islands “After a devastating year for Northern gannets in 2022 due to the avian flu outbreak, I was overcome with joy whilst watching this healthy gannet colony torpedo into the sea beneath the cliffs of Noss. They are truly magnificent birds.”

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#MYOCEAN

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SENTINELS OF

climate change Penguin species in Antarctica and the remote Subantarctic regions are already feeling the brunt of global warming. Researchers have established that shifting weather and ice patterns, altered ocean currents, and changes in food availability have affected their breeding success and survival rates. What does the future hold for these charismatic flightless birds? Wo rd s a n d p h o t o g ra p h s b y Ju l i e C h a n d e l i e r

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tanding in the heart of sprawling penguin colonies brings a sensory overload. No images can really do it justice. It is an endless cacophony of sound and motion that will leave a lasting impression on anyone fortunate to experience it. I, for one, feel very privileged to have travelled to some of the most remote corners of the earth where unforgiving nature meets the extraordinary. Antarctica, South Georgia and The Falkland Islands are home to a remarkable array of penguin species, each contributing to the rich mosaic of life in our planet's southernmost reaches. These charismatic birds have captured the hearts of many, including mine as I travelled to these southern latitudes in 2022 where I would encounter all penguin species except the rare emperor penguin.

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“South Georgia is a hotspot for penguins due to its proximity to the Antarctic Convergence, where cold polar waters meet the more temperate ocean.” As we sailed to South Georgia, my heart was filled with trepidation. The many books, documentaries, and images I had seen over the years were to become reality. South Georgia’s noisy, shuffling penguin community comprises four species, including the world’s largest population of macaroni penguins as well as gentoo and chinstrap penguins. But it is the island’s king penguins that waddle away with much of the spotlight. There are around 450,000 pairs of king penguins in South Georgia - about half of the world’s population. The island has over 30 colonies in total but the largest is at St Andrews Bay, home to an impressive 150,000 pairs. When I set foot on the bay's shore, I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t fathom how such a place can exist. What drew my attention the most was the numerous king penguin chicks bobbing around. They are oddlooking creatures, boasting a unique appearance that sets them apart from their adult counterparts. Due to their looks, some early explorers believed that they were a completely different penguin species. Covered in soft brownish-grey down feathers, they navigate the bustling colonies, often forming crèches where they huddle together for warmth and protection. South Georgia is a hotspot for penguins due to it proximity to the Antarctic Convergence, where cold polar waters meet the more temperate ocean. This fosters extraordinary levels of marine productivity, especially for Antarctic krill – the favourite food source of most of Antarctica's seabirds, whales, seals, and penguins. In breeding season the coast of South Georgia – only 104 miles (166 km) long – is home to over 60 million breeding birds of over 30 different species. More than four million seals also call these coastlines home and South Georgia is known as the largest colony of elephant seals with over 6,000 animals. We often associate the remote Antarctica and the Subantarctic regions as inadequate for life, due to their extreme cold temperatures and harsh weather conditions. However, beneath their seemingly barren, frozen exterior, these regions are teeming with life and possess some of the richest biodiversity on the planet. All around Antarctica, these frigid waters provide lifeblood for wildlife. Penguins have established themselves far and wide, and are the perfect example of resilience in these seemingly inhospitable regions. Symbolically speaking, they serve not just as ambassadors for these regions, but also the fragile ecosystems they inhabit. Due to their sensitivity to environmental changes, penguins are an important indicator of ecosystem health. They are also integral components of a complex food web and are commonly referred to as sentinels of climate change.

OPENING SPREAD: Gold Harbour, in South Georgia, is home to numerous king penguins, gentoos and elephant seals. PREVIOUS TOP: A breeding colony of king penguins in St Andrews Bay, the largest in South Georgia. PREVIOUS BOTTOM: St Andrews Bay boasts a staggering population of around 150,000 pairs of king penguins. RIGHT TOP: The Errera Channel on the Antarctic Peninsula. RIGHT BOTTOM: A Magellanic penguin on Carcass Island in the Falkland Islands (Islas Malvinas).

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“King penguin chicks are oddlooking creatures, boasting a unique appearance that sets them apart from their adult counterparts. Due to their looks, some early explorers believed that they were a completely different penguin species.”

LEFT: The dark brown feathers of a king penguin chick. RIGHT: King penguin chicks are covered with a thick down of dark brown feathers until they molt at 10 to 12 months of age.

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“A decade-long study revealed a 25% decline in chick survival in regions experiencing aboveaverage rainfall and/or snowfall.”

THIS PAGE: An Adélie penguin navigates its colony on Paulet Island in Antarctica on an icy day. NEXT PAGE, clockwise from top left: - A gentoo parent feeds its chick. - An Adélie penguin chick on Paulet Island, Antarctica. - An Adélie penguin and its chick, part of a 100,000 breeding pairs on Paulet Island, Antarctica. - Two gentoo penguin chicks are about to be fed by their parents who’ve been foraging at sea.

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“Research has found that when just 10% of a chick's surface becomes wet, it can begin to impact growth.”

As we were sailing through these southern parts, I learned that, despite the apparent abundance of them, these penguins are under threat. They are particularly vulnerable to shifting ice patterns, altered ocean currents, and changes in food availability as these all affect their breeding success and survival rates. One of the most pressing issues in these regions is an unusual increase in rain and snowfall. Typically, snow ceases by early November, but over the past two to four years, heavier snowfall has persisted until the end of December, a direct result of climate change. Gentoo penguins face particular challenges as they rely on dry rocks to construct their nests, which sometimes consist of up to 1,300 pebbles and stones, piled high and proud. Being the only species breeding on ice-free grounds, they are vulnerable to late snowfall, which delays breeding. When so much snow is afoot, they cannot breed. They simply have to wait. This could lead to delayed hatching and a reduced likelihood of chicks successfully fledging before winter. Guillaume De Rémacle, an expedition guide and ornithologist who has been working in Antarctica for several years, has made rather poignant observations during the past two seasons. “During these challenging times, the gentoos' desperate urge to reproduce becomes evident. I have witnessed them attempting to lay their eggs on the beach during low tide, only to see them washed away when the tide rises, or on precarious nests in the snow, leading to the unfortunate freezing of the eggs,” he said. Undeniably, keeping eggs warm in snowy conditions is a hard task. A decade-long study revealed a 25% decline in chick survival in regions experiencing aboveaverage rainfall and/or snowfall compared to drier areas. Not to mention increased runoff from rain or snowmelt can also flood penguin nests, regardless of the species. Natalie Long, a master’s student at the Institute of Marine and Antarctic Studies in Tasmania and a lecturer onboard polar expeditions, told me: “The IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) has found with high confidence that precipitation will increase in polar regions, in Antarctica, over coastal regions.” In an average breeding season, only 25% of eggs laid

in a colony make it to a two-year-old penguin, with losses occurring due to predation, lack of attention, or challenges faced during chick growth and first winter at sea. Given that penguins don't breed until four to seven years old, many may not survive long enough to reproduce. A reduction in the number of successful eggs laid in the first place is therefore alarming. The vulnerability of penguin chicks is exacerbated by their down feathers, which handle excessive moisture poorly. While adult penguins are waterproof and can regulate their body temperature, chicks lack this ability. Adélie penguin down feathers, although well-insulated in cold and arid environments, becomes saturated in heavy rainfall, leading to decreased insulation, increased hypothermia risk, and increased likelihood of freezing to death. Natalie Long added: “Research has found that when just 10% of a chick's surface becomes wet, it can begin to impact growth and reduce a chick’s probability of reaching successful recruitment.” These recent changes in precipitation patterns in the Antarctic Peninsula region, along with the increasing variability in global weather events, indicate an uncertain future for numerous Adélie penguin populations. Two documented instances of complete or near-complete breeding failures for this species have occurred on Pétrel Island, located in the d’Urville Sea in East Antarctica with rainfall being a contributing factor, according to research published by Dr Yan Ropert-Coudert, Director of Research CNRS. In the breeding season of 2013-14, this Adélie population faced a catastrophic reproductive period, resulting in no surviving chicks out of the 20,196 breeding pairs. And only two chicks survived out of the 18,163 breeding pairs in the 2016-17 season. This had never been recorded over the 36 years that the Adélie colony was monitored. Moreover, snow-induced delays can exacerbate competition among penguin species. For instance, Gentoo and Chinstrap penguins, whose breeding season typically starts slightly later than Adélies, might arrive before Adélies have laid their eggs. This can intensify competition for breeding space and food. Gentoos are also expanding their range further into Adélie territory, potentially leading to similar issues at other colonies.

LEFT: An Adélie penguin on ice in Antarctica. RIGHT: An iceberg on the Antarctic Peninsula.

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TOP: Fortuna Bay is home to around 7,000 breeding pairs of king penguins. BOTTOM: King penguins experiencing a 'catastrophic molt'.

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We consider penguins to be keystone species, meaning they have a disproportionately large impact on their environment relative to their population size. As top predators in the Antarctic food chain, penguins help regulate the abundance and distribution of their prey, primarily krill and fish. By controlling these populations, penguins maintain the balance of the entire marine ecosystem. Keystone species possess low functional redundancy, indicating that if they were to vanish from the ecosystem, no other species could effectively occupy their ecological niche. Their absence would force the ecosystem to undergo profound transformations, creating opportunities for new species to penetrate the habitat, potentially including invasive species. In December 2022, we approached the Adélie penguin colony of Paulet Island in Antarctica, one of the largest with 29,000 breeding pairs. We could see a vast increase of guano or accumulated bird excrement from afar. As we went ashore, the ground appeared increasingly red. These colonies act as natural fertilisers for the surrounding land and marine environments, supporting a cascade of life and benefitting numerous species from fish to whales. Guano is rich in nutrients like nitrogen and phosphorus, or iron. The latter especially plays a crucial role in the high-nutrient, low-chlorophyll Southern Ocean regions,

“Another fascinating aspect of penguins is their intriguing molting process, which is vital for their survival and well-being.”

promoting phytoplankton growth. These microscopic plants in the ocean take carbon out of the atmosphere during photosynthesis and are then eaten by krill. The krill excrete carbon-rich faecal pellets that sink to the bottom of the sea, locking the carbon away. Another fascinating aspect of penguins is their intriguing molting process. They undergo this crucial process also known as ‘catastrophic molt’ which is vital for their survival and well-being. This annual molt involves the simultaneous renewal of all their feathers, which is necessary to maintain their waterproof coverage. Since they spend most of their time in freezing waters, they can’t afford having a hole in it. The molt takes two to three weeks during which penguins fast on land since they can't access water. To sustain themselves during this demanding period,

penguins rely on their fat reserves, which they build up through successful foraging prior to molting, increasing their body weight by up to 70%. During this fasting period, penguins can lose up to 50% of their body weight and the molting process has to end before sea ice comes. Penguins have so little energy left that they can’t afford to walk long distances on ice to get to the sea to feed. A breeding season is precisely timed as certain steps, including egg incubation, chick sheltering, feeding, and growth, take a total of four months, except for the great penguins like king and emperor penguins. In essence, everything must be completed before winter arrives. If breeding is delayed due to adverse weather conditions, the molt is postponed closer to winter and sea ice formation. Adult penguins have the instinct to feel when it's time to molt and if their chicks are not ready they will abandon them as their own survival is more crucial for the species' continuity. In light of these threats, one tool that can help us understand how these populations are doing is data monitoring. Observing penguin populations and studying their behaviours can provide us with valuable insights into their overall health and that of our marine environment. Penguin Watch is a perfect example of how this monitoring work can be helpful. Its founder, Tom Hart, has installed and run time lapse cameras in many different colonies on the Antarctic Peninsula since 2010, capturing images during the various stages of the breeding season. He explained: “Penguins are really important as they integrate a signal of what’s going on in the wider ecosystem while being easy to count. The problem is one of logistics. We use time lapse cameras so that we get a full year’s worth of data from many different colonies and can compare different regions with the local threats. This is a far more effective way to get large scale, regional data from remote places.” The organisation also relies on the public to participate in a citizen science project by logging their observations on their website. Counting eggs, getting photos of chicks and adult penguins are all useful ways to contribute. Penguin Watch has also been using drones, when allowed, as well as satellite images to assess penguin colonies’ sizes. Hart added: “Since we launched the citizen science site, we have had millions of people engaging and helping us to process the data.” As I reflect on the privilege of being surrounded by these incredible penguins, I am reminded of the urgent need for their protection. For decades, they have ignited our imaginations, drawing attention to the fragile beauty of the Antarctic. Through concerted conservation efforts, we can secure the future of these incredible creatures and the delicate balance of our planet's southern seas. By safeguarding their habitats, promoting low carbon practices, and raising awareness about their ecological significance, we can ensure that future generations will continue to be captivated by these charismatic ambassadors of our planet's icy latitudes.

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Column

By Ian Urbina

The outlaw ocean reporter THE LOOPHOLE ARTIST

o understand the sea requires grasping it as an idea - reckoning with the emotion it invokes, and recognising the ingenious ways people use the place as a tool for their own ends. Though it is not entirely accurate to describe the ocean as lawless, it is certainly a confounding knot of jurisdictions, treaties, and national laws litigated over centuries of seafaring travel and commerce. Determining whether activity at sea constitutes a crime often depends on where in the water it happens. A provision in maritime law treats a ship in international waters like a floating embassy, in effect a detached chunk of the land whose flag it flies. That means the laws that apply on board are only those from the country where the ship is registered. A woman’s right to terminate a pregnancy, for example, is determined by which side of a state or country’s border she stands on. But one woman had the idea to look to the sea to circumvent the law of the land. Rebecca Gomperts, a Dutch doctor and founder of Women on Waves, traverses the globe in a converted medical ship carrying an international team of volunteer doctors that provides abortions in places where it has been criminalised. Running these oftenclandestine missions since the early years of the twentyfirst century, Gomperts has repeatedly visited the coasts of Guatemala, Ireland, Poland, Morocco, and a half dozen other countries, dangerously skating the edge of federal and international law. For over 20 years, Gomperts has taken advantage of the legal loophole provided by the murkiness of international waters to provide access to medical abortions, which entail administering pills to induce miscarriage, for women otherwise left without options. Where a country’s federal law may forbid abortions, the jurisdiction of that law only reaches the limits of national waters, or twelve miles from shore. At the thirteen-mile mark, where international waters begin, abortion is legal on Gomperts’ ship because it flies the flag of Austria, where abortion is permitted. Back in 2017, I joined Dr Gomperts aboard her vessel, the Adelaide. Partly my motivation in covering this story was that I needed a break. I was emotionally worn out, having spent more than a year on dozens of ships in the darker corners of the outlaw ocean. I craved a story with a different type of protagonist. Her organisation rarely received a warm welcome

from the countries it visited. In Ireland, the ship faced bomb threats. In Poland, Gomperts was met in port by protesters throwing eggs and red paint. In Morocco, she was nearly accosted by an angry mob. In Spain, opponents tried to tow her boat. Gomperts stopped them by cutting their ropes. In Mexico, the first trip out to sea was taken before the local government knew about the ship. The big obstacle was the weather. The boat ran aground twice and was nearly beached by the huge waves when leaving the port. On board were two young women, both in their 20s, both Mexican, who seemed frightened but resolute, and who had come to have abortions. It took about six hours to get from shore to the 12mile line that divides national and international waters and that's where Gomperts, who is a gynaecologist, administered a sonogram to see how far along the young women's pregnancies were. Both were several weeks in, and Gomperts held a counselling session to inform the women of factors to consider. Whether this was the right decision and what they might expect in terms of the after-effects of taking the pills. The second trip out was after Women on Waves had held a press conference. The provincial and federal Mexican government reacted strongly and tried every tactic to stop the ship from taking women out to international waters. The government first claimed that the crew did not have proper maritime and visa papers. It closed the port ostensibly due to weather. They threatened Gomperts with arrest for lacking permission to bring women out and back from international waters. None of these tactics withstood review by a Mexican judge and Gomperts' lawyers. In reporting on maritime mayhem, I’d found no shortage of bad actors who thought nothing of breaking the law. Mostly, their objective was to make more money, whatever the consequences might be for the workers and the health of the ocean. And yet, there was also a small handful of others that I encountered who held unwavering beliefs and who used the quirks of maritime law as a kind of secret weapon to advance their agendas. While not everyone would agree with their positions on an issue, there was no arguing that these advocates and activists were clear about their beliefs. Gomperts was not breaking the law but taking advantage of a loophole in the outlaw ocean. IU

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About Ian Ian Urbina is the director of The Outlaw Ocean Project, a non-profit journalism organization based in Washington D.C. that produces investigative stories about human rights, environment and labour concerns on the two thirds of the planet covered by water. Before founding The Outlaw Ocean Project, Urbina spent roughly 17 years as a staff reporter for The New York Times. He has received various journalism awards, including a Pulitzer Prize, two George Polk Awards and an Emmy. Several of his investigations have also been converted into major motion pictures.

Ian Urbina and Rebecca Gomperts. Photograph by Fábio Nascimento/The Outlaw Ocean Project.

“Gomperts was not breaking the law but taking advantage of a loophole in the outlaw ocean.”

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Inspiring change On Australia’s John Brewer Reef, situated within the realms of the Great Barrier Reef, the Museum of Underwater Art seeks to foster change by blending art, marine science, and conservation.

Wo rd s b y C h r i s t i a n B a r t e n s P h o t o g ra p h s b y Ja s o n d e C a i re s Tay l o r

“Long before the reef emerged, the First Nations people thrived on the land now covered by its waters.” 40

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nce you enter the water and begin your descent, a surreal underwater world opens up beneath you. A large structure resembling a greenhouse comes into view with numerous fish species darting around it, while human-like figurines slowly reveal their colourful coral coverage upon getting a closer look. Beneath the crystalline waters of the John Brewer Reef lies an experience that unites art, science, and conservation: MOUA, the Museum of Underwater Art. As the world's largest collection of coral reefs and a UNESCO World Heritage site, the Great Barrier Reef holds immense ecological, economic, and cultural significance. It is this invaluable treasure that MOUA is dedicated to safeguarding for future generations. The seeds of MOUA were sown in 2016 when Dr Adam Smith from Reef Ecologic hosted a reef leadership course in Townsville. Among the attendees were Paul Victory, the former chair of SeaLink and North Queensland Tourism, and the Director of the Cancun Marine Park, which already boasted an underwater museum at the time. It was during this meeting of kindred minds that the concept of an underwater museum on the Great Barrier Reef emerged, driven by the mission to protect it. With the vision in place, the artist Jason deCaires Taylor was enlisted in June 2017 to conduct a feasibility study for this audacious endeavour. Having fallen in love with the Great Barrier Reef during his tenure as a diving instructor many years before, Jason returned to this captivating wonderland to craft a series of mesmerising underwater sculptures. For deCaires Taylor “art is a means of exploration." He recalls: “By bringing my artwork into such an unusual context, we may start to understand more of ourselves and our connection to nature. Working on the Great Barrier Reef for the first time, one of the world's most biodiverse regions, provided a unique starting point for such an exploration." The Great Barrier Reef holds significant ecological and economic value. It stands as one of Earth's most diverse ecosystems, harbouring an extensive array of marine species, and acting as a natural defence against storm surges and coastal erosion. It supports various industries, generating employment opportunities and billions of dollars in revenue. However, it is the Great Barrier Reef 's cultural significance that fuels MOUA's inspiration and empowers its artists to delve into our relationship with nature. Referred to as the Sea Country by Indigenous Australian communities, the reef embodies a living link to their forebears, a repository of ancient wisdom, and a source of profound spiritual meaning. Long before the reef emerged, the First Nations people thrived on the land now covered by its waters. They possessed an intimate understanding of the diverse ecosystems, skilfully utilising nature's resources for sustenance and survival. Their bond with the land and sea was deep-seated, forming the bedrock of their contemporary culture and traditions.

PREVIOUS: View from inside the Coral Greenhouse without coral growth shortly after it was submerged. THIS PAGE: The Ocean Sentinel sculpture of Jayme Marshall being installed on John Brewer Reef.

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“The biomorphic design now seamlessly blends with nature, allowing the sculptures to integrate into the reef.”

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As deCaires Taylor aptly articulates: "Australia and its Indigenous communities have a rich historical connection to art and the environment. Some of the earliest examples of human communication and storytelling were discovered here. As our urban societies become more distanced from the natural world, we have a lot to learn from these communities, their connection to nature and unique way of living sustainably." Jason deCaires Taylor was one of the first contemporary artists to use the underwater world as an exhibition space. Before his installations on the Great Barrier Reef, he built underwater sculptures and explored conservation themes in Mexico, Norway, the Maldives, Spain, and the Bahamas, while also creating artificial reefs to provide homes for marine life in barren areas of the seabed. “Working on the Great Barrier Reef, the largest natural reef in the world, presented a different objective. Here, the focus shifted towards communication and developing an underwater museum which acted as a portal or interface to further showcase the incredible inhabitants and processes in this beautiful yet threatened submerged world,” he says. Unveiled as MOUA's inaugural installation in early 2019 on the Strand promenade in Townsville, the Ocean Siren is a captivating four-metre-tall sculpture that stands as a poignant symbol of the Great Barrier Reef 's vulnerability to rising sea temperatures. Inspired by Takoda Johnson, a young Indigenous girl from the Wulgurukaba tribe, the sculpture depicts her holding a Bayliss shell, an indigenous communication artifact, while gazing towards Magnetic Island and the expanse of the reef. During the night, the Ocean Siren's colours shift based on real-time water temperature data provided by AIMS, the Australian Institute of Marine Science, offering a visual representation of the prevailing conditions. The sculpture underscores one of the most critical threats facing the reef: climate change. Elevated sea temperatures and ocean acidification result in coral bleaching, a detrimental process that weakens and kills coral, endangering the entire reef ecosystem. The Ocean Siren, with its lights mirroring a thermal imaging camera, brings the science of the reef to urban areas, effectively conveying the urgency of addressing this vital issue. The Coral Greenhouse, submerged in late 2019 and officially inaugurated in early 2020, is a ground-breaking underwater museum. Sitting at a depth of 16 metres and just a short swim from the Ocean Sentinels installation at John Brewer Reef near Townsville, it is ideal for freediving and scuba diving alike. With its impressive 12-metre height and weight of 58 tons, this architectural

The installation of the Ocean Sentinel sculpture of Sir Charles Maurice Yonge on John Brewer Reef.

marvel explores marine science, coral gardening, art, and architecture, offering a fresh and immersive perspective on the Great Barrier Reef and its ecology. “We spent 12 days with Jason surveying sites, looking for beautiful soft, sandy seabed where we can install the sculptures without doing any damage to the reef,” said Paul Marshall, chief environment officer at Reef Ecologic, one of the project partners. The biomorphic design now seamlessly blends with nature, allowing the sculptures to gradually integrate into the reef, while the porous structure creates a sanctuary for marine life. Crafted from pH neutral cement and corrosion-resistant steel, the Coral Greenhouse can withstand the ever-changing marine conditions. Inside, figurative sculptures modelled on local school children serve as powerful reminders of the importance of protecting our precious marine world for future generations. The surrounding gardens, coral planter boxes, and floating trees inspired by local species complete this extraordinary underwater marvel. Surrounded by a coral nursery and underwater trees that have been specifically designed to facilitate coral rehabilitation, the installation date of the Coral Greenhouse was perfectly timed to coincide with a coral spawning event so that coral larvae would attach to the structure’s clean surface area. “The sculptures themselves are all made from a ph-neutral marine cement with a textured surface to help settlement,” says deCaires Taylor. The coral flourishing on the Coral Greenhouse and its various installations serves as a testament to the reef 's resilience, demonstrating that even in the face of adversity, the Great Barrier Reef can rebound. This uplifting message urges visitors to enact individual changes and collaborate towards a sustainable future. The Ocean Sentinels, submerged in early 2023 and officially opened on World Ocean Day, is a series of underwater sculptures arranged in a snorkel trail at a depth of only five metres and just a short swim from the Coral Greenhouse installation. Standing 2.2 metres tall and weighing between 1 to 3 tons, the sculptures are a unique blend of human figures and marine elements, symbolising the fusion of art and science. Each sculpture is modelled on a renowned marine scientist or conservationist, highlighting their significant contributions to reef protection. Crafted from a sustainable and resilient earth friendly concrete, the artworks are designed with a low centre of gravity to withstand the powerful forces of the ocean. With their surfaces intentionally designed to attract marine life, the sculptures are expected to transform over time as corals, sponges, and hydroids colonise them, mirroring the reef 's dynamic nature – and further strengthening the Coral Greenhouse’s message of resilience. By integrating Indigenous cultures and traditions, these sculptures serve as an educational gateway to the Great Barrier Reef, underscoring its historical significance and the vital role played by leading marine

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“The installation date of the Coral Greenhouse was perfectly timed to coincide with a coral spawning event.”

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A Coral Gardener statue with a shovel in front of the Coral Greenhouse on John Brewer Reef.

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MAIN IMAGE: Coral gardener with coral tray modelled on a local Reef Guardian school student. TOP: Hanging coral baskets with soft coral growth. MIDDLE: Coral gardener with branching coral. BOTTOM: Coral gardeners without growth right after they were submerged.

“The sculptures themselves are all made from a pH-neutral marine cement with a textured surface to help settlement.”

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science institutions. As Dr. Katharina Fabricius, one of the Ocean Sentinels, says: "MOUA is a living piece of art that communicates to the people how important research is, how important coral reefs are, and how all these aspects – art, science, humanity, can come together to protect the reef." Through MOUA, the reef 's narrative unfolds, spotlighting its resilience, challenges, and the pressing demand for collective action. These submerged sculptures are more than static artworks. They are living embodiments of the reef 's capacity for rejuvenation. As coral adorns the sculptures over time, visitors bear witness to the reef 's resilience, igniting optimism and inspiring action. The essence of MOUA lies in kindling hope and galvanizing collective action. By amalgamating art and science, MOUA conveys that the Great Barrier Reef is not an irreparable loss, but a treasure that merits preservation. As custodians of the reef, we can all effect change by adopting simple alterations in our daily routines. From the comfort of our couch, we can share reef-friendly messages on social media to help spread the word. In our households, we can embrace sustainable habits such as minimising food wastage, opting for energy-efficient appliances, and conserving water. In our communities, we can favour eco-conscious transportation choices and advocate for sustainability in workplaces and educational institutions. For boaters, responsible practices encompass proper waste disposal and adherence to designated zones. “Our oceans are going through rapid change, and there are huge threats, from rising sea temperatures to acidification, and a large amount of pollution entering the system. Part of creating an underwater museum is about changing our value systems – thinking about the sea floor as something sacred, something that we should be protecting and not taking for granted,” says deCaires Taylor. The John Brewer Reef Site is currently attracting 5,000 divers annually and this number is forecast to grow to 15,000 over the next few years, thus “making a significant contribution to the local visitor economy”, according to Paul Victory. “Five commercial diving companies are regularly taking visitors to the site and many locals are visiting in recreational vessels. The Museum of Underwater Art has brought together an international arts collaboration, science, indigenous conversation and tourism leaders to create a project inspiring reef conversations,” he continues. MOUA's mission reminds us that collective action, regardless of its scale, can yield significant positive transformations. By cherishing and safeguarding the Great Barrier Reef, we honour its ecological relevance, cultural heritage, and economic worth. Together, we can ensure that this underwater marvel persists as a source of inspiration and vitality for generations to come.

Coral gardener before (left) and after (right) being submerged - with and without soft coral growth.

“As coral adorns the sculptures over time, visitors bear witness to the reef's resilience, igniting optimism and inspiring action.”

Behind the lens

S H AN E GROS S

Behind the lens places a spotlight on the world’s foremost ocean conservation photographers. Each edition focusses on the work of an individual who continues to shape global public opinion through powerful imagery and compelling storytelling.

BEHIND THE LENS

Q&A SH ANE GROSS Shane Gross is a Canadian marine conservation photojournalist. Telling long-form narratives about the ocean and the impact of human activity on the marine environment, both positive and negative, is what drives him.

OC EA NO G R A PH IC M AGAZ I N E (OM ): S H AN E , WH EN DID YOU FIRST CONNECT WITH TH E OCEAN? Shane Gross (SG): I grew up in landlocked Saskatchewan in Canada which is a 24-hour drive to the nearest ocean. I would snorkel and go fishing around lakes but from a young age, I was obsessed with sharks and anything ocean-related. I got to go in the ocean for the first time when I was four years old. We went on a family trip to the Bahamas and I can still remember putting my hands in the soft Bahamian sand and seeing my first ocean fish. Then I didn’t see the ocean again until I was 15 years old on another family trip to the Bahamas. That’s when I got certified as a scuba diver. OM : H OW D ID YOU BE C OM E AN U N D E RWAT E R P H OTOGRAP H ER? SG: I’ve always been interested in photography and taking photos when in the water although, at the time, it was with a point and shoot camera with no control over the settings. There were a few a-ha moments in my early 20s when I was backpacking Australia with friends. I went on a liveaboard on the Great Barrier Reef and came back with all these rolls of film, took them to a developer and he told me that I had a good eye for composition. He said that I only would have to work on my lighting. He brought out his underwater rig and showed me his flashes and his set-up. At the same time, I was looking through a magazine that published the Wildlife Photographer of the Year. That year, it had been won by this image by Doug Perrine of sharks bursting through a bait ball in South Africa. It was the most amazing image I had ever seen. I knew that if I ever wanted to come close to making an image that good, I’d really have to take it seriously. I didn’t think of it as a career so much but I wanted to make great images. I knew that I’d have to apply myself, have to get the proper gear and spend a lot of time in the ocean. Moving to the Bahamas in 2012 gave me a lot of time in the water, and I became a really good scuba diver. I became a scuba instructor and was able to spend as much time as possible in the water shooting. That really built up my skills and portfolio. It also gave me my direction in the underwater photography world. I had to ask myself: Do I want to specialise in competitions? Do I want to specialise in macro photography? Or wide angle? What I settled on was conservation storytelling. That was the thing that really screamed to me to delve into. So, I started reaching out to local conservation organisations and scientists, asking them what they thought needed highlighting. I found overlooked stories like the queen conch in the Bahamas being heavily overfished. I’ve never seen a story like that so I went ahead and shot it myself. It became a really big benefit to organisations that were trying to advocate for policy changes around the queen conch. Their hard work eventually led to the exportation ban of conch which cut down on the pressure by 35%. My pictures played a relatively small role but I hope they were a useful tool to these conservation organisations. OM : WA S T H IS T H E F I RS T S TORY YOU W ORK ED ON? SG: I worked on that one alongside a few others at the same time. I was grabbing shots for all of these stories here and there for years, not really getting much in the way of magazine publications or anything like that, but slowly chipping away at a few different stories at the same time. And then weirdly, I had them all completed at the same time. I was on a roll. I was getting published everywhere with all these different stories.

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O M: D ID YOU M OV E TO T H E BAH AM AS TO P URSUE A CAREER IN UNDERWATER PH OTO G R A P H Y ? SG: I moved there to work as a dive instructor. That’s how I paid the bills when I first moved down there. In the back of my mind, it felt unrealistic that I could have a full-time career in underwater photography, but I knew that I didn’t want to be a dive instructor for the rest of my life. I thought that maybe it could lead to something else. O M: W H AT D O YOU T RY TO AC H I E V E W I TH YOUR P H OTOGRAP H Y? WH AT’S YOUR AIM? SG: I think my main goal is to tell untold stories of the ocean and to bring them some attention. This will not usually lead to any concrete change, I have to accept that. But that is still the goal – some sort of change for the better, representing the ocean and its habitats and species. I feel like I’m working for them. They are my boss essentially [laughs]. I believe that all of us who care about the ocean, whatever skills, talents and abilities we have, we have to work for the ocean. Whether you’re an accountant, or a mechanic, or, in my case, a photographer, how can we use those skills to promote ocean conservation? O M: D O YO U H AV E A S P E C I F I C S T Y L E OF P H OTOGRAP H Y? SG: My style is pretty much journalism. I don’t do a lot of post-processing. I spend a lot of time in Lightroom and Photoshop but it’s not because I spend much time on each image, it’s because I take many pictures [laughs]. I try to make the image look like if you were there. Now, that’s pretty well impossible and, to be honest, somewhat unattractive because the deeper you go, it just turns all blue or all green. So we do bring artificial light but that’s still showing off natural colours. I’m basically doing my best to show it off in as beautiful and enticing way as possible without it becoming unrealistic. O M: H OW D O YOU GE N E RAL LY F I N D AND P LAN YOUR STORIES AND IMAGES? SG: Finding stories is one of the most challenging aspects. Once I think of a story, the elements of the story dictate what I should shoot. The actual finding of the ideas is much more challenging because I don’t just want to repeat what everyone else has shot. But that’s what you see, that’s what’s on social media and in magazines - something that has already been shot. Sometimes that’s okay. If nobody has touched this topic in ten years, sometimes going back and revisiting that is important and interesting. But original ideas are difficult to come by. I have found very few in my life, I think [laughs] but where they have come from is from mostly reading scientific papers or paying attention to scientific literature, or talking with people, usually scientists, fishermen, and people who are involved in that world. Even the people who say the idea, don’t realise it’s an idea in that moment and I will be like: “Oh, wait. There’s something interesting there!” So, for me, it’s paying attention and being open to ideas and knowing what already is out there so that I don’t go and repeat it. O M: W H Y D I D YOU E N D U P M OV I N G AWAY FROM TH E BAH AMAS? WH ERE ARE YOU LIVING NOW ? SG: I now live back in Canada, on Vancouver Island. I was living in the Bahamas because I was working at a dive centre. And as a Canadian working in the Bahamas, you need a work permit. As Covid hit, there were no tourists coming in and the dive shop couldn’t keep us anymore. We were let go and I moved back to my parents’ basement in Regina Saskatchewan. Because it was Covid, I couldn’t go somewhere else or on a plane, and I was wondering what to do next. I noticed that I’ve never been to the west coast of Canada. I’ve never been to Vancouver Island at all. So I started calling around the different dive shops, asking about the diving, asking about the situation in Vancouver. It seemed to me that Nanaimo was fairly central on Vancouver Island and had good diving nearby. So, I came out here, planning on only staying for one month and then reevaluating. I found that there were so many stories to tell here that I just ended up staying. It has been almost three years now. O M: W H AT D O YOU L OV E M OS T ABOU T C ANADA’S UNDERWATER LANDSCAP ES? SG: I think it’s largely overlooked. People focus on coral reefs and tropical destinations. We have amazing colours, biodiversity, and densities of life here that, on the world stage at least, are overlooked. These stories also deserve to be told.

Continued on p. 80... Oceanographic Issue 32

This way up

BEHIND THE LENS

Q&A Continued...

OM : W H AT ’ S T H E M OS T I M PAC T F U L S I N GL E FRAME IMAGE YOU’VE SH OT TO DATE? SG: The one that really seemed to connect with people emotionally is a very sad picture of a green sea turtle in the Bahamas that was entangled in fishing line. I think the turtle was accidentally hooked and fishermen either cut the line or the fishing line was already hooked on the reef and the turtle later got entangled but it entangled both the turtle and the reef so the turtle couldn’t make it to the surface to breathe and it drowned. We found it quite a after it drowned because its eyes were already eaten out by scavengers by the time we found it. It’s a really difficult image to look at once you look closer, but it seemed to connect to a lot of people. I’ve heard feedback of people saying things like ‘I’m not going to eat seafood anymore’, or ‘I’ll make the effort to pick up plastic when I go to the beach’. Of course, it was sad to come across the turtle and the scene but at the time, I was focussed on making a powerful image because I felt it was important that the turtle didn’t just die in vain. I wanted to tell a story that maybe could lead to some sort of positive change after. OM : W H AT ’ S YO U R RE L AT I ON S H I P W I T H S OC I AL MEDIA? H AS IT CH ANGED P H OTO J O UR NA LI S M ? D OE S I T H E L P C ON S E RVATION EFFORTS OR DOES IT STUNT THEM? SG: A lot is positive about it and a lot is negative about it. It does connect people who otherwise wouldn’t be able to connect easily. It helps me to pay attention to what’s going on – what are the stories that people are telling, what are the pictures that people are taking? The negatives are that it has severely wounded the photography industry, especially in our genre of wildlife and natural history imagery. There was a time in the 80s and 90s when it was easier to make a living of photography. Not that it was easy, but it was possible and achievable for quite a few people. Now it’s very difficult to earn a living and to be able to pay rent or a mortgage strictly from selling photos. I know a lot of really great photographers who basically had to give up and go do something that basically paid them more to support their families. It’s just the way the market is now. I think social media had a big hand in that. I think it can also give an unrealistic view of the ocean. We see some hard-hitting images but for the most part we see places of beauty. It’s important to know that we still have that, that there is still hope, but I think that we get the impression that the oceans are generally okay because we swim by the hundred metres of dead corals and find the one patch of beautiful coral. That’s the picture we want to take. That’s a problem of photography in general but I think social media elevates that because we’re seeing that all the time. OM : YO U O F F ER U N D E RWAT E R P H OTOGRAP HY TUTORIALS OVER TH E PATREON P LATFORM. WH Y IS T H IS CLO S E TO YOU R H E ART ? SG: At first, I wasn’t sure if people wanted to learn from me so I gently dipped my toes in the water to check if there would be anybody that wanted me to teach them what I’ve learned over these years. It turns out that there are a few and I really enjoy teaching them. I run a mentorship programme through Patreon where we try to hop on the phone as our schedules allow and talk about my career and their career and images and give them 1:1 feedback and attention. That is what I craved when I first started out. The few conversations I did have with photographers that I admired changed things so much for me in such a positive way that I created this programme to give that to them. OM : A R E T H ER E A N Y M OM E N T S OR S TORI E S TH ROUGH OUT YOUR CAREER TH AT FILL YOU WIT H A PA RT ICU L AR S E N S E OF P RI D E ? SG: I have had many amazing moments in the ocean and those special moments fill you with the drive to keep going. I’ve had a Cuban crocodile chewing on the front of my camera, I’ve had a pair of whales dance in front of me for hours, I’ve seen a bait ball with 40 sailfish feeding on it. These are things that I never would have thought I would get to experience. In terms of stories that I’m proud of I think the one that I’m most proud of is my seagrass story which has been published a lot. It has turned into a long-term project because saying I’m doing a project on seagrass is a bit like saying I’m doing a story on fish. There are a bunch of little stories to tell within that bigger story. The seagrass one took me to eight different countries, several states,

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and provinces, and I got to see everything from sharks to crocodiles to nudibranchs and seahorses. That one is a big, worldwide story. There’s nothing wrong with smaller stories if you can tell them in an interesting way. But there is something about a cohesive, epic, global story. It took a lot of time, money and effort to pull off. A Canadian story I'm proud of is one about the European green crab. It’s an invasive species here and it outcompetes local crabs, eats mussels, clams and things that are buried in the sediment. It digs for them and in doing so, it uproots seagrass. Seagrass is a big carbon sink and an important habitat for juvenile salmon and so many other species. It’s ruining habitats and contributing to climate change. And as the climate changes and gets warmer, the crabs are going to have more room to spread. So, they’re both causing climate change and benefiting from it. It creates this vicious cycle. But there are people that are working full-time to trap these crabs to help keep them in check and keep those seagrass beds healthy. It’s a multi-faceted story with a villain, a hero and a climate change angle, a seagrass angle, and a habitat angle so it takes quite a lot of images to tell the full story. These are the stories that I love. O M: YO U’ VE BE E N D OC U M E N T I N G T H E UNDERWATER WORLD FOR A WH ILE. H OW H AVE O CEA N E N V I RON M E N T S C H AN GE D FOR YOU P ERSONALLY? SG: I don’t know what it was like 100 years ago, but within those eight years I’ve spent in the Bahamas, I saw coral reefs deteriorate. I saw mangroves that were bulldozed to make way for marinas. Fish species that we would see very often, we would only see in a while. The average size of fish we saw went down. I saw large resorts go up in areas that were otherwise untouched. But I also saw the opposite side where people were getting more interested in conservation. I saw the Bahamas turn their waters into a shark sanctuary and Marine Protected Areas. I saw them ban single-use plastics. Just before I went there, they protected sea turtles as there used to be a sea turtle fishery there. So, I’ve seen negative change but also positive change. O M: W IT H N E GAT I V E N E W S ABOU T C L I MATE CH ANGE AND TH E OCEAN FLOODING O UR INB OX E S ON T H E DAI LY BAS I S , H OW DO YOU STAY P OSITIVE AND CONTINUE TO W O R K IN C ON S E RVAT I ON ? SG: I have to say I’ve become a bit of a pessimist. I think the truth is that it’s already happening and it’s only going to get much worse. The earth, I believe, is going to be just fine because it has been through five mass extinctions, it has been through asteroids and all kinds of things. What I am scared to see are all the horrible things that are going to happen to humans and other animals. There are going to be more and more floodings, more and more wildfires, more and more people dying just of heat, glaciers melting, oceans rising. So, I’m fairly pessimistic but what keeps me going is… well, you know, what else am I going to do? Am I just going to become a stock trader and make as much money as I can and live my best life and then perish as there’s no hope? I think the tide is changing enough where all we can do now is hopefully stave off the absolute worst effects of what we’re doing. Maybe we can keep a few species around long enough to get over our hump. Maybe we can avoid the worst parts of climate change. Maybe there’s hope and we no longer make things worse and slowly start to make things better. O M: W H AT ’ S K E Y F OR T H E F U T U RE OF TH E OCEAN? H OW DO WE REACH OUTSIDE OF T H E ‘ O CEAN BU BBL E ’ TO OT H E R S E C TORS AND P EOP LE BEYOND DIVING, P H OTOGRAP H Y A ND CO NS E RVAT I ON ? SG: I think we’ve gotten past the point of hope where we’re going to make enough of the population change their behaviour. I think we’ve realised that that’s not going to happen. People aren’t going to change their own lives for the sake of the climate. A percentage will but most people won’t. We’re now in the hands of technology and leadership – political leadership, country leadership but also business leadership. Individuals not using plastic straws and switching their light bulbs is all good – I’m trying to do as much as I can – but that is not going to get us over that hump. Leadership and technology will.

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Cuba Caribbean reef sharks in the Gardens of the Queen Marine Protected Area off Cuba. Seeing large numbers of big predators is a sign that protection is working.

Cuba The mouth of an artichoke coral in Cuba's Gardens of the Queen Marine Protected Area.

The Bahamas A lemon shark pup uses the protection of a mangrove forest as a nursery.

Canada Western toad tadpoles feed on algae which grows on lily pads in a lake in British Columbia.

The Bahamas Nurse sharks mate in a shallow bay.

Philippines A larval stage wonderpus octopus rises to the surface at night.

Indonesia An entire school of tuna is caught in a seine net.

Canada Pink salmon rush up the river to spawn before they die.

Canada A tiny red octopus changes the colour and texture of her skin for camouflage in British Columbia.

Cuba Cuban crocodiles are critically endangered with less than 2,000 left on Earth, all of which are found only in Cuba.

The Bahamas A green sea turtle hides among mangrove trees.

The Bahamas An endangered green sea turtle, which got entangled in fishing line and in the reef. As it couldn't reach the surface to breathe, it drowned.

Behind the lens SHANE GROSS Canada The face of a Puget Sound king crab in all her glory in British Columbia.

PERSONAL 82

Wh i l e Sh a n e G ro s s g re w u p f a r f ro m t h e o c e a n i n S a s k a t c h e w a n i n C a n a d a , h i s c h il d h o o d p a s s i o n f o r s h a r k s h a s q u i c k l y g ro w n i n t o a l o ve f o r t h e u n d e r wa t e r w o rld . To d ay, h e i s a C a n a d i a n m a ri n e co n s e rva t i o n p h o t o j o u rn a l i st t h a t h a s s p e ci a li s e d i n t e lli n g lo n g -f o rm n a rra t i ve s a b o u t t h e o c e a n a n d t h e n e g a t i ve a s w e ll a s p o s i t i ve i m p a ct s o f h u m a n a ct i vi t y o n t h e ma r i n e e n vi ro n m e n t . S h a n e ’s s t o ri e s h a ve f e a t u re d i n s eve ra l m a g a z i n e s a n d n e w s p a p e r s a ro u n d t h e w o r l d , a n d h i s i m a g e s h a ve p l a c e d i n n u me ro u s u n d e rw a t e r p h o t o g ra p h y co m p e t i t i o n s , i n clu d i n g t h e N HM Wi l d l i f e P h o t o g ra p h e r o f t h e Ye a r. He cu rre n t ly m e n t o rs yo u n g co n s e rva t i o n p h o t o g ra p h e r s t h ro u g h Pa t re o n , i s a n a s s o ci a t e f e llo w w i t h t h e In t e rn a t i o n a l Le a g u e o f Co n serva t i o n P h o t o g ra p h e rs , i s a co -f o u n d e r o f t h e C a n a d i a n C o n s e r v a t i o n P h o t o g ra p h e r s C o l l e c t i ve , a n d w o n t h e 2 0 2 1 S a ve O u r S e a s Fo u n d a t i o n ’s O c e a n S t o ry t e l l i n g G ra n t .

@shanegrossphoto

@shanegrossphotography

www.shanegross.com

Oceanographic Issue 32

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Last refuge During the summer of 2022, the red sea fans of the western Mediterranean basin experienced a major mortality episode. Shortly after, a scientific exploration programme came across a glimmer of hope: red gorgonians in deeper realms were able to resist climate change.

Wo rd s a n d p h o t o g ra p h s b y A l e x i s R o s e n f e l d / Fo n d a t i o n 1 O C E A N / U N E S C O

Oceanographic Issue 32

“Like underwater trees, they form threedimensional habitat structures, creating refuges for numerous species.”

F E AT U R E

ver the past decade, the Mediterranean Sea has experienced frequent marine heat waves. Sea surface temperatures in the region have, at times, been 5° Celsius higher than normal which had widespread negative effects on numerous ecosystems and species, including slow-growing species like the red gorgonian. A study from 2021, for example, found that Mediterranean coral reefs were still recovering from a marine heat wave dating back to 2003 because heat events continued to affect them almost annually after that. During the summer of 2022, divers made an alarming observation in the Marseilles area. They witnessed the death of the vast majority of red sea fans, or gorgonians, at depths of up to 30 metres. On specific sites, they found that 100% of the gorgonians were decimated. Only greyish skeletons were left behind where colourful gorgonian colonies once dominated the scene. According to scientists, this mortality episode is most likely linked to the particularly high temperatures experienced in the region during the summer. But unlike hard corals that make up coral reefs, gorgonians are not directly affected by temperature variations, researchers have found. Global warming affects red sea fans for a very specific reason. It seems that the rise in water temperature has enabled the proliferation of vibrio cholerae, the bacterium responsible for cholera. As this bacterium is highly efficient at high temperatures, it multiplies rapidly and seems to have infected the gorgonians. As with all Mediterranean corals, red sea fans reproduce in summer. The large amount of energy invested in reproduction and the lack of nutrient supply during the season make gorgonians particularly vulnerable during the summer period. The increasing frequency of heat waves represents a further threat to gorgonian populations, which no longer have sufficient time to recover. The death of gorgonians raises a more global problem: the potential loss of all associated biodiversity. Above a certain population density, gorgonians create what are known as underwater animal forests. Like underwater trees, they form threedimensional habitat structures, creating refuges for numerous species. Researchers fear that the disappearance of gorgonians from certain areas would disrupt these important ecosystems and put at risk all associated species. As put forward by Lorenzo Bramanti, gorgonian specialist at the French National Centre of Scientific Research (CNRS) LECOB laboratory, "the ecological importance of gorgonian forests lies in the fact that they are a refuge for many other species. When you protect a forest, you automatically protect the birds, insects, amphibians

PREVIOUS: A diver illuminates the red gorgonian forests in the deeper parts of the Mediterranean. THIS PAGE: Off the coast of St Raphael in France, a team of researchers studies red gorgonians.

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MAIN: Lorenzo Bramanti prepares a gorgonian for collection. TOP: Lily, the underwater robot. MIDDLE: A gorgonian gets cut for sampling. BOTTOM: Bramanti studies a collected gorgonian piece.

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“Beyond a certain depth, the gorgonians seemed preserved and untouched by the effects of heat stress as if they had been protected.” Red gorgonians swarming with bogues and swallowtail seaperch.

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and all the animals that live inside the forest, just by protecting the forest". In response to this ecological emergency, UNESCO and the 1 OCEAN Foundation have launched a scientific exploration programme in partnership with the CNRS and the LECOB research unit at the Observatoire Océanologique de Banyuls-sur-Mer in France to study the effects of climate change in the western Mediterranean Basin further. The fitting name: ‘L'arche de Noé des profondeurs, un avenir pour la biodiversité?’ which loosely translates to “Noah's Ark of the Deep, a future for biodiversity?’. During their first mission that took place in October 2022, the 1 OCEAN research team observed that, beyond a certain depth, the gorgonians seemed preserved and untouched by the effects of heat stress as if they had been protected in a thermal capsule. For scientists this finding is a real source of hope: they say that depths could become climate refuges for animal forests. Alexis Rosenfeld, photographer, explorer and head of the 1 OCEAN Foundation, says: "The deeper you go, the lower is the water temperature. The ocean acts like a thermal shield and will - possibly - protect deep gorgonian populations from major heat waves". Indeed, below 30 metres, gorgonian populations seem to come back to life. Bramanti confirms: "What we notice when we observe gorgonian mortality is that mortality is very important in the first 30 metres of depth, but in deeper areas - from 30 to 50-60 metres - populations are less affected." The second mission of the exploration programme recently took place in Saint-Raphaël in the Var region of France. One of the main mission’s goals was to collect more samples from untouched forests in order to carry out further research. Nearly eight months after the mortality episode, the Fondation 1 OCEAN team also wanted to make new observations in order to determine any changes in gorgonian populations. Bramanti testifies: "We were able to observe that below 50 metres, there is virtually no sign of mortality caused by the warming of the water column. Unlike many surface populations that we have been able to monitor previously, at 60 metres we found a population in excellent health, made up of large colonies and extending over a wide area. Collecting this data will enable us to lay the foundations for the 'Noah's Ark' project and to understand whether, how and for how long these refugees will be able to protect the gorgonian forests against rising temperatures." He continues: "As we descend into the depths, we are once again treated to the enchantment of life. After the first 50 metres, I rediscovered a huge forest full of life, as if I were opening the door to a new world”, describes Rosenfeld. He adds,” this new discovery gives us real hope for the future of this scientific programme and, more broadly, for a whole area of marine biodiversity. These are dives into deep refuges, where living organisms once again defy the ravages of mankind.” Following this exciting research, experts believe that, in

the face of global warming, deep waters could therefore constitute a biological refuge for Mediterranean red sea fans. But an important question remains: for how long can they continue to be that? In order to assert that the deep sea could act as a thermal capsule and refuge, it is essential to understand if deep-sea populations are demographically self-sufficient or whether they only survive on larvae input from superficial populations that live closer to the surface. If the deep gorgonians are in fact genetically independent from their shallow counterparts, they will have a greater chance of survival. To answer this vital question, the next missions of the 1 OCEAN team will focus on studying red sea fan populations in several Mediterranean shipwrecks. On each wreck, 30 to 50 samples per size class (small, medium and large gorgonians) will be collected. These samples will then enable the researchers to draw up a genetic map of the wreck's gorgonians. If the majority of the individuals belong to the same ‘family’, they could confirm that the wreck's population constitutes an independent, self-sufficient ecosystem. Moreover, studying the genetics of gorgonians on shipwrecks is of major interest in terms of age-assessment. Indeed, once identified, a shipwreck is a marker of time, linked to its sinking date. Thanks to this data, the researchers can then determine the maximum age of a wreck's gorgonian population. By comparing the age of different wrecks with, or without, self-sufficient gorgonian populations, they can also determine how long it takes for a gorgonian population to become self-sufficient. To find out more about these habitats in deeper zones, a new team member has been recruited. Lily, a small underwater robot (ROV), has been and will be a firm part of past and future missions of the 1 OCEAN Foundation. Equipped with a Sony Alpha 1 device, it can dive down where no human being can go: up to 1,000 metres deep. As some of the missions’ dives can be very challenging due to time restriction and depth, Lily is able to dive the area before the crew to produce a first evaluation of the zone, collect simple samplings and save precious time for the diving crew. “Lily is a key member of the team as the robot dives first and allows us to have a better idea of the underwater situation and allows us to prepare our dives more efficiently,” explains Bramanti. These important deep-sea refuges are in urgent need of protection and need to be included in the management of protection actions. While Marine Protected Areas are usually designed on geographical, two-dimensional maps, the marine environment is clearly three-dimensional. Therefore, depth should be an important factor in the creation and management of Marine Protected Areas, explains Bramanti. He urges that we need to “extend MPAs further than coastal populations, to ensure the protection of deep-sea refuges and develop corridors of connection between deep and shallow individuals”. If the ocean twilight zone is one of the last climate refuges for marine biodiversity, it is high time to include it in concrete future conservation efforts.

Oceanographic Issue 32

Column

By Hugo Tagholm

The ocean activist PROTECTING OUR MARINE PARKS

“The sea, the great unifier, is man’s only hope. Now, as never before, the old phrase has a literal meaning: we are all in the same boat.” - Jacques Cousteau

About Hugo Hugo Tagholm has previously led the ocean campaigning charity Surfers Against Sewage and is the executive director and vice president of Oceana in the UK. He was recognised as Environmentalist of the Year 2021 by the Save the Waves coalition and is a regular media commentator on environmental issues.

Seagrass beds with a green shore crab off the UK. Photograph by Michiel Vos via Ocean Image Bank.

@hugotagholm

icture your favourite nature reserve or local park. A place where you draw inspiration and wellbeing, for your mind and body. Somewhere you can recharge your batteries and reconnect with the wild. A place where you consciously and subconsciously rediscover ancient connections with nature. Many of us are lucky enough to have these spaces in our neighbourhoods. Places that are invested in, protected, and nurtured for future generations. Patches of land that we have visited with grandparents, parents, children, and grandchildren. Our coastline has the same unifying draw – beaches that inspire generation after generation to delve into rockpools, bodysurf swells that build and break, spark barbeques as the orange sun sinks beneath the darkening horizon. Spaces that are so precious to us that community after community will fight for their right to exist, untouched by the relentless progress of industry. These spaces not only unite us but bring us hope in these challenging times for people and planet. Spaces that provide a connection with nature rather than commerce. Places that we are willing to stand up for. As oceanographer Jacques Cousteau once said, “The sea, the great unifier, is man’s only hope. Now, as never before, the old phrase has a literal meaning: we are all in the same boat.” What lies beneath the surface of the sea needs our help just as much. Its own community willing to stand up for all the intrinsic benefits it brings us whilst intact and untouched. After all, we wouldn’t tolerate industrial trawl nets scouring our forests and fields, scraping up all life as we know it. We wouldn’t allow Big Oil to erect new wells in our parks. We wouldn’t allow Big Mining to take hold in the green and wild spaces that are fundamentally important to how well we live. We must continue to resist the encroachment of the most destructive of industries that fill our seas with pollution, extract the goodness, kill marine life, and destroy the very structures and sediments of the seascape. Healthy ocean ecosystems play such a crucial part in all our wellbeing, whether we see them or not. Just as nature reserves, parks and beaches are crucial to wellbeing. Ecosystems and habitats we depend on but rarely see, apart from in high definition, a step away reality. Projected into our homes on technicolour, these places can seem somewhat irreal and safe from the impending destruction. What is out of sight simply can’t be out of mind. However Big Oil, industrial fishing, and deep-sea mining all have their sights set on further exploiting our ocean. The growing momentum to monetise our ocean, by industries old and new, is creating a squeeze on these ecosystems and marine life that we must resist, monitor, and regulate to avoid losing

@hugoSAS

sea spaces that are vital for our collective futures. A healthy and functioning ocean is more important to us all than we can even imagine. Continuing to build hope, community support and momentum for life below the waves is vital as we approach the mid-way staging post for the United Nations Ocean Decade. The recent success of the High Seas Treaty to protect biodiversity beyond national jurisdiction is a fantastic step forward for our seas - a reflection of the global community coming together to nudge the balance of power back in favour of our wild ocean. Added to this, the recent wave of opposition from NGOs and countries to slow, if not stop, proposals for unregulated deep-sea mining before it inflicts irreparable damage to our ocean ecosystem gives us hope that our ocean won’t face unabated industrialisation. Are we really going to sell off our last wildernesses to the highest bidder? The momentum to stop industrial trawling is growing too, with Patagonia, perhaps the world’s most activist outdoor brand, stepping in to join calls for a complete end to bottom trawling and dredging in Marine Protected Areas in the UK and Europe. This complements Oceana’s 2021 legal action challenging the government’s ongoing licensing of this most destructive type of fishing in these so-called protected areas. Bottom trawling and dredging are completely incompatible with genuine protected areas. Closer to home, projects including the Plymouth Sound National Marine Park are a crucial effort aimed at safeguarding and restoring the rich marine ecosystems and those that rely on them. This new approach highlights the deep links between ocean health and human health. The Plymouth Sound Marine Park encompasses a diverse range of habitats, including coral reefs, seagrass beds, and underwater canyons, providing vital breeding grounds and habitats for various marine species. The park also supports the local economy by promoting responsible marine tourism, water sports, active ocean use and maintaining the region's natural beauty. Local campaigns and educational programmes play a vital role in engaging communities and visitors, fostering a sense of responsibility and connection to the marine environment. Using all the tools and techniques we can to mitigate the impact of human activities from overfishing to habitat destruction is essential. And then we can rebuild and restore those ocean habitats most resilient to climate change, ocean warming and acidification. Ultimately, from the global to the hyper-local, we need to combine progressive campaigns, collaborations, treaties, and models for dynamic and impactful marine conservation to preserve the delicate balance of ocean ecosystems for future generations. HT

Oceanographic Issue 32

GROUND ZERO

for ospreys Around 20,000 ospreys are attracted to Chesapeake Bay annually, making it the world's most important nesting grounds for the species. But researchers believe that the decline of one little fish might play a significant part in the decreasing breeding success in recent years. Wo rd s b y C h e r y l Ly n D y b a s P h o t o g ra p h s b y Jay F l e m i n g

“Out of 83 osprey nests in Mobjack Bay and its tributaries, there are three young. That means that the success rate is 0.036. Maintenance rate is 1.15 young per nest.”

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osy orange fingers of first light shimmer across a marshy inlet on the Ware River, a tributary of Virginia’s Mobjack Bay. Mobjack lies along Chesapeake Bay’s western shore, not far from where the Chesapeake meets the Atlantic Ocean. Tracking the next generation of ospreys, or fish hawks, so-called as the birds only eat fish, is today’s objective for biologist Bryan Watts, director of the Center for Conservation Biology in Williamsburg, Virginia. On this June day high tide is at 6:00 a.m. Checking on young ospreys in Mobjack’s nests depends on deep enough water to manoeuvre in shoal-laden creeks, so researchers need to get underway early. Watts and his colleague Michael Academia, also of the Center for Conservation Biology, will census young ospreys in three of Mobjack’s tributaries: the Ware, North and East rivers. A boat ramp leads into the Ware from a landing just outside the community of Gloucester, Virginia. At the ramp’s top, it’s all aboard as Watts backs a skiff into the inlet. Although ospreys are found in many parts of the world, they’re attracted in large numbers to shallow bays and estuaries along the U.S. East Coast, especially the Chesapeake. The bay and its tributaries are now home to some 20,000 ospreys, making it the most important nesting grounds in the world for these raptors. Each spring, ospreys fly north to breed along the Chesapeake from wintering areas in Central and South America. The birds spend the summer feasting on schools of fish such as menhaden. Chesapeake Bay is the largest estuary in the U.S. and is among the most productive waterbodies in the world. Submerged, salt-tolerant grasses offer shelter and food for fish seeking a place to hide. But it’s not easy to elude the osprey, master of the splash-and-grab. During most of the breeding season, the male does the fishing. Hovering above the waves, the bird suddenly folds its wings and plunges, bulletlike, into the water. It hits feet first in a burst of spray and seizes its prey with formidable talons. Flapping heavily, it turns the fish head first for aerodynamic flying, then carries its prize to a perch and helps itself before bringing home the remainder. Watts, Academia and I motor downriver on the Ware, stopping at every nest we see to check for young birds. The nests are on channel markers, docks, duck blinds, platforms built for the birds by waterfront landowners, and any other structure ospreys can land on. Ospreys set up housekeeping wherever they find good fishing and protection from raccoons and other land-based predators. As we slowly float up to Ware nest number 4, there’s one young bird visible, but, as Watts says, “it’s not in great shape”. Female ospreys usually lay between two and four eggs. To see into the nest, Academia holds a long-handled mirror high above, allowing us a glimpse of its lone resident.

We zoom on to nest numbers 5, 6 and 7 through 10. Each time, there are no young. Finally we reach the last Ware River nest, number 29: 1 chick! By now, it’s a celebration to find a single young osprey. In 29 nests on the Ware, two chicks. Next we head to the North River, where out of 33 nests, there’s just one chick. On to the East River, where, out of 21 nests, not even one chick. Out of 83 osprey nests in Mobjack Bay and its tributaries, there are three young, all in different nests. “That means that the success rate is 0.036, the lowest reproductive rate I can remember anywhere for ospreys,” says Watts. “Maintenance rate is 1.15 young per nest.” Sadly, many of the adults are still perched on failed nests, seeming to wonder what could have happened to their chicks. In Mobjack Bay, the halcyon days for ospreys seem to be gone. Watts suspects that menhaden in this bay, the ospreys’ main food here, are also largely gone. A few days later, Watts surveyed the lower York River south of Mobjack Bay, checking 44 nests. Only three nests had chicks, including one one-chick nest and two two-chick nests. “The birds in the two-chick nests were only 3.5 weeks old, so it’s unlikely they will all make it to fledging,” says Watts. “A waterman who works nearby says ospreys haven’t successfully produced chicks in three or four years.” Some of the structures, Watts says, “have been used by ospreys for decades and have been consistently productive. From some, we used to send chicks to other states that needed them. It’s striking to see them empty.” Watts and Academia found better news in the upper Rappahannock River. The Rappahannock is north of Mobjack Bay and its tributaries. ‘Up river’, the researchers checked 37 active nests; 28 were successful, with 56 young, a 76% success rate or 1.51 young per nest. “The productivity there,” says Watts, “is in line with that of the upper James River, where there are a lot of adults with fish.” The James lies south of the Rappahannock. There the scientist found 45 of 54 nests with young, an 83% success rate. Ospreys in the upper James produced 77 young, for a reproductive rate of 1.42 young per nest. In a place that might be ground zero for ospreys, Watts’ findings are unexpected. He calls the Chesapeake a tale of two bays: one where ospreys are abundant, primarily in its upper tributaries, and another, in the lower mainstem, where so few of the birds’ young survive the population can’t break even. “It’s clear that the tidal freshwater reaches [of Chesapeake tributaries] - where the birds are feeding on catfish, gizzard shad and other fish - are producing normally and above the break-even rate,” Watts says. “That’s in stark contrast to saltier areas in the mainstem of the Chesapeake, where ospreys depend on menhaden.” In his 2007 book on menhaden, H. Bruce Franklin called them “the most important fish in the sea”. Known as forage fish, menhaden are crucial to the diets

PREVIOUS: An osprey holds a freshly caught Atlantic menhaden in its talons. LEFT: An osprey with its prey, a hickory shad.

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“The birds are ‘imprinted’, or biologically programmed, to return to their place of birth.”

Oceanographic Issue 32

MAIN: An osprey family nesting atop a tank used for target practice by the Navy. TOP: An osprey lands on a dead tree. MIDDLE: A recently hatched osprey chick begs for food. BOTTOM: An adult osprey feeds its chicks.

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“The bird’s presence in town led to what may be the world’s only osprey festival.”

An osprey chick stares into the camera.

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of striped bass, bluefish, summer flounder and other fish. They’re also critical to countless other species, including ospreys. Watts and his colleagues have collected osprey productivity data for Mobjack Bay since 1970. Ospreys’ reproductive rate rose to a high in the early to mid1980s, then declined around 1990. “By 2006,” says Watts, “productivity had dropped to 0.75 young per pair. By 2021, that number was 0.32, a rate lower than any recent year.” Physician David Muffelman lives along Mobjack Bay’s East River. He’s a keen osprey observer, watching from his home along the shoreline. There at the mouth of the river, according to Muffelman, ospreys nest on two channel markers and one platform placed on a piling. All were occupied in summer 2022, by “pairs on goodlooking nests with no evidence of damage”. Despite that, he saw “no apparent offspring,” and by early August, two of the three pairs of adults had left. One pair still hovered nearby, says Muffelman, “but no one was home in the nest”. In summer 2023, he reports, “ospreys built nests on two channel markers and one piling.” Muffelman saw no sign of young birds in any of the nests. Watts believes that menhaden in the Chesapeake’s mainstem are being overfished, mostly by industrial fishers scooping up menhaden for “reduction”. Menhaden are reduced to fish meal and oil for pet food and salmon feed. “Declines in osprey productivity have been driven by starvation of young in nests after hatching, most within the first week,” says Watts. “For most pairs, fish [menhaden] availability in Mobjack Bay is not adequate to raise even a single young.” He and Academia conducted a study in 2021 in which they supplemented Mobjack Bay osprey nests with menhaden; the findings were published in April 2023, in the journal Frontiers in Marine Science. “Experimental supplementation of nests with menhaden was effective in reducing starvation rates and driving osprey productivity above maintenance levels,” Watts says. “That suggests that if the menhaden population was allowed to recover, ospreys could return to sustainable reproductive rates.” Fisheries biologist Ed Houde of the University of Maryland Chesapeake Biological Laboratory agrees that the bay’s “abundance of menhaden might be lower [than it once was], but documentation of that possibility is lacking. Anecdotally, in my area [along the Chesapeake near Solomons, Maryland] there has been less success in osprey nesting in the past four years or so, with nest platforms on neighbours’ waterfronts having failed or with reduced fledging success.” Ospreys have been in trouble on the Chesapeake before. Only a few decades ago, the raptors’ numbers declined so dramatically it appeared the birds might leave the Chesapeake for good. Then the overwhelming ‘osprey-tality’ of their human neighbours helped kindle their revival. From the late 1950s into the 1970s, the number of ospreys in the Chesapeake region fell sharply as a result of DDT contamination. Through the fish they ate, the birds absorbed a high concentration of the pesticide. That

reduced their ability to mobilize calcium stores, giving their eggs such thin shells they were crushed under nesting parents. When DDT was banned in the U.S. in 1972, the bay’s osprey breeding population had sunk to around 1,000 pairs. To make matters worse, many of the trees the raptors once depended on for nesting had been felled by developers. Osprey pairs, which usually mate for life, return to the same nest site year after year. By the mid-1980s, however, the birds’ resurgence was well underway, thanks to bay researchers who helped fight for the ban of DDT and area residents who replaced traditional nest trees with artificial platforms. The dedication of osprey fans throughout the Chesapeake has made the area as close to paradise as an osprey can get, many supporters say. But ospreys don’t owe their Chesapeake success to people alone. Nature has given them a boost. The birds are ‘imprinted’, or biologically programmed, to return to their place of birth. For an osprey, few habitats are nicer to come home to than the bay. One of those osprey towns where humans live side by side with these majestic birds is Colonial Beach, a waterfront enclave on the lower Potomac River, a tidal brackish water Chesapeake tributary. Within the distance of a few city blocks, ospreys nest on more than 40 platforms and in rows of bayside trees. The bird's presence in town led to what may be the world’s only osprey festival. The celebration is held every April, soon after the birds return to the Chesapeake region. The 2024 Virginia Osprey Festival will be its sixth. “Ospreys are so plentiful in Colonial Beach, they tend to be taken for granted by local residents,” says Joanie Millward, who lives in Colonial Beach and is chair of the festival. “The gathering is a way to share our ‘osprey wealth’.” Each year, festival organisers hand out a map of the town’s myriad osprey nests. Among Millward’s favourites is a nest on top of a boat on a lift. “The boat hasn’t been used in years,” she says, “but the ospreys come back every season and add sticks to the nest. It’s now a tall and likely very heavy nest.” Then there’s the one on a platform near the Potomac River Fisheries Commission building. “The birds had a nest close by,” Millward says, “but it had to be taken down as it was too close to some construction. Now there’s a new pole and platform for the ospreys.” With the help of Millward and others, Watts has started what he calls an Osprey Watch programme, a community of observers focused on breeding ospreys. The news in Colonial Beach has been good. In 2023, ospreys produced 1.6 young per successful nest. For many boaters, residents and fishers along the Chesapeake, the landscape would be somehow incomplete without ospreys. “When the end of August comes and our birds are flying south for the winter, something of the spirit of the bay has gone,” says Millward. By September, chill autumn winds rustle the hollow reeds of empty osprey nests. But come spring, osprey patrons of every feather will be waiting on ice-covered docks to spot the first arrivals and welcome the fish hawks back home.

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Column

By Cal Major

The adventurer WILDERNESS FOUND

A puffin shows off its catch. Photograph by James Appleton.

@cal_major

y partner James and I recently had the great pleasure of visiting the Treshnish Isles. They lie just a few miles off the Isle of Mull on the West coast of Scotland, and sit amidst the Sea of the Hebrides Marine Protected Area. Now uninhabited, the Islands themselves are famed for their internationally significant nesting seabird populations, Atlantic seals, and human history. It’s going to be difficult for me to describe in words just how special this little chain of islands is, and the depth of the feelings I experienced whilst exploring them. The care of Islands has just been taken on by the National Trust for Scotland, and we had the enormous privilege of exploring the islands with their seabird officer, archaeologist, botanist and rangers. The passion from these individuals for exploring, understanding, protecting, and helping to share this magical island chain was infectious, and once left to our own devices, armed with the knowledge passed on by these experts, James and I found ourselves utterly awed by them too. For me it’s the seabirds that make the islands so special. Within minutes of arriving on Lunga, the largest of the islands, I found myself on a cliff within metres of puffins wandering around their burrows. Thousands of puffins nest on Lunga each year, and they’re the main attraction for the daily tour boats arriving from Mull and Oban. They have become habituated to our presence, and although it’s still important to retain a sensible distance so as not to disturb them, you’re able to get closer to them here than almost anywhere else in the UK. I think it’s important that people have the opportunity to really experience wildlife, provided it isn’t to the detriment of the animals, as this can create such a powerful bond and connection to nature that can fuel a drive to look after it. Even though the puffins steal the show, there are many other birds nesting on the Treshnish Isles too - often in massive ‘bird cities’ comprising different species. There are razorbills and guillemots in their thousands, the latter particularly noisy on their main colony on Harp Rock on Lunga. There are shags nesting amongst boulders, their feathers shimmering a dark green; blackbacked gulls soaring overhead, and one of the UK’s most threatened birds, kittiwakes, setting up their cliff-side homes. The Treshnish Isles are also home to 20% of the UK’s storm petrels, a tiny but hardy bird that nests in the walls of the ruined buildings and amongst the smaller boulders on the beaches. And then there’s the plant life. Absolutely thriving, full of insects and delightful biodiversity, and a little bit different on each island. I revelled in walking and sitting amongst the deep, strong plants and I felt a huge grin spread across my face as I wandered through untouched nature - head high in some places. It all felt so raw, so real, so absolutely full of life, and exactly how it should be. It was a tonic amidst the norm of manicured lawns and concrete in ‘normal’ life. Paddling on my SUP between the islands, I encountered curious grey seals who followed me on and

@CalMajor_

www.calmajor.com

“For me, it’s the seabirds that make the islands so special. Thousands of puffins nest on Lunga each year, and they’re the main attraction for the daily tour boats arriving from Mull and Oban.”

off for a couple of hours; in the autumn they’ll have their pups here. Unable to resist the pull of the crystal-clear ocean, I wanted to see what it looked like under the surface for myself, so donned my mask and snorkel and found myself mesmerised whilst swimming amongst swaying seaweed and kelp. Wild places like this are hard to find nowadays. I think it’s vital that we get the chance to spend time here - for our own wellbeing and sense of personal connection to the big picture, but also so we can understand them and stand up for them. On the other hand, I also think it’s dangerous to see places seemingly so full of life. In 2022, Avian Flu devastated seabird populations. Overfishing, especially of sand eels which are removed in huge quantities to make animal feed, is starving birds like kittiwakes who rely on them to survive. Climate change is altering the distribution of food for marine species, and the many other pressures on the ocean environment, such as the destruction of the seabed by trawling and dredging, and plastic pollution, are only making it harder for seabird numbers to recover. Shifting Baselines Syndrome means we’re only able to comprehend the state of nature within the boundaries of what we’re used to seeing in our lifetime. Visiting somewhere as nature rich as the Treshnish Isles, it might feel like there’s nothing going on to concern us. However, there are threats we can’t immediately see, and a gradual depletion of nature we might not be able to appreciate. We need to hold on to visions of the ocean thriving to a greater extent than it generally is. CM About Cal Cal is a vet, ocean advocate and world-record stand up paddleboard adventurer who founded the UK charity Seaful to reconnect people to the ocean. For more information or to get involved visit: www.seaful.org.uk

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Swimming WITH purpose

Every year, more than 100 juvenile whale sharks visit the waters around Mexico’s La Paz. As seen in many whale shark hotspots around the world, a rapidly growing whale shark tourism sector quickly resulted in numerous problems for the animals. Widespread campaigning and a collaborative conservation approach, however, managed to turn the face of the city’s whale shark tourism programme around.

Wo rd s a n d p h o t o g ra p h s b y N i c o l e H o l m a n A d d i t i o n a l p h o t o g ra p h b y S h e l t o n D u P re e z

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hree nautical miles off the coast of La Paz, I sat perched on the edge of a research panga, accompanied by Alberto Garcia Baciero, the project coordinator at Tiburón Ballena México or Whale Shark Mexico. Overhead, a drone whizzed, serving as our watchful eye while we searched for the presence of an elusive whale shark beneath the surface. After a quick glimpse of its dorsal fin, we relied on the drone's aerial perspective to track its movements. "I'm over its head," yelled our spotter, prompting the captain to skillfully manoeuvre the boat ahead of the trajectory it was carving through the water. With my camera in hand and Alberto poised with his measuring tools, we prepared to plunge into the water. As the drone closed in, signalling the shark's approach, we slipped into the water. Following Alberto’s lead, I took a deep breath and dove beneath the surface. The nutrient-rich waters concealed what lay beneath, but after a few metres, I was met by an astonishing sight - a large female whale shark emerging into view, its head the size of a small car. From a distance, the ten-metre length of these sharks creates a slow-motion illusion. But as the gentle giant approached underwater, its real speed became apparent. Alberto, swimming frantically to keep up, dove deeper to capture a photo ID of the whale shark and measure its dorsal fin. Day after day, year after year, this is what Alberto and the team of scientists at Whale Shark Mexico do. Their valuable findings contribute to a foundation of data fuelling a unique and innovative approach to collaborative conservation efforts alongside the Mexican government, tourism operators and local community. For the past ten years, they have championed the protection of the extraordinary whale shark population in the Sea of Cortez, a unique habitat where these majestic creatures frequent both as juveniles and adults. Thanks to the distinct oceanic conditions of the region, the migratory behaviour of juvenile and adult whale sharks paints an annual pattern. Juveniles prefer shallower coastal areas where they feast on abundant plankton, while adults embark on extensive migrations through the open ocean, guided by ocean currents as they seek warmer waters and diverse places to feed. Nestled in the Bay of La Paz and bordered by the terracotta shores of eastern Baja California Sur, the Mogote Peninsula boasts nutrient-rich waters. During winter months, northern winds stimulate upwelling, bringing plankton to the surface and providing a bountiful feeding ground for approximately 100 juvenile whale sharks between October and April. In the vibrant ecosystem of the Sea of Cortez, whale sharks play a distinctive role that sets them apart from other shark species. They act as vital regulators and ensure a balance within the ecosystem. Whale sharks can consume enormous amounts of zooplankton per hour, effectively recycling essential nutrients like nitrogen and phosphorus back into the ocean. This nutrient recycling process is a catalyst for sustaining other species in the ecosystem, from phytoplankton to fish, forming the

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foundation of the food chain. As we returned to the dock that afternoon, Dr. Dení Ramirez-Macías, the founder and lead scientist of Whale Shark Mexico, was there to catch the lines. We sat down as the sun hung low above the horizon and talked about her journey into whale shark conservation. Dr. RamirezMacías embarked on her research journey in 2001, long before whale sharks became a well-known species in the area. She recalled: "When I was 20, I went to La Paz on the Gulf of California to follow my dream to become a marine biologist. That was when I had my first encounter with a whale shark. It was the best experience of my life.” At the time, despite the growing global interest in swimming with these gentle giants, La Paz had no tourism centred around the animals and only local fishermen knew of their presence. Driven by her passion for these incredible creatures, Dr. Ramirez-Macías conducted the world's first study on the genetics of whale sharks in the region. Her groundbreaking research revealed the fascinating annual migration pattern of the whale sharks, demonstrating that they returned to the area every year. Following her academic pursuits, she established Whale Shark Mexico, a NGO dedicated to the research, conservation, and education of whale sharks with a mission to protect them. As awareness of their presence began to spread, La Paz witnessed a significant surge in its popularity as a destination to experience these majestic animals. Tourism, which initially comprised only a few operators, rapidly expanded to accommodate more than 140 boats. Dr. Ramirez-Macías said: "In the beginning, there were no regulations on how many boats could be in the area, how fast they were allowed to go, and how the guests could behave with the whale sharks.” As her research endeavours continued, the photo IDs collected from the whale sharks revealed a troubling trend. There was an increasing number of incidents where sharks were being injured from collisions with boats. The lack of regulations and responsible tourism practices were taking a toll on their well-being, highlighting the urgent need for conservation efforts and sustainable tourism initiatives. Despite being celebrated as an iconic megafauna species around the world, whale sharks face numerous threats from fishing, boat strikes, water quality degradation, coastal development, and climate change. "In the late '90s, there was a significant decline in whale shark populations worldwide," shared Alberto. "It was during the 2000s that most countries began taking protective measures, banning fishing practices that targeted these gentle giants. The main concerns we encounter today are boat collisions, which result in scratches, and boat strikes, leaving propeller cuts. These challenges may arise from either tourism or fishing activities.” In 2016, the global whale shark population status was upgraded from vulnerable to endangered by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), signalling a critical turning point for the species. One

Oceanographic Issue 32

PREVIOUS: A juvenile whale shark filter feeds on suspended zooplankton. THIS PAGE: Nicole Holman sits down-path of female whale shark 'Jenny' to photograph it as it cruises by.

“In the late ‘90s, there was a significant decline in whale shark populations worldwide.”

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“There is great potential for the whale shark species to no longer be endangered within the next 100 years.”

TOP: Balandra Beach near the city of La Paz. MIDDLE: Whale Shark Mexico’s scientific advisor Jorge Mendoza spots a juvenile whale shark. BOTTOM: 'Jenny', an adult female whale shark cruises along the surface.

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TOP: Whale Shark Mexico’s project coordinator, Arthur Caulliez, records population data from a dive to be given to government officials. BOTTOM: Whale Shark Mexico’s project manager, Alberto Garcia Baciero, measures the dorsal fin of a pregnant female whale shark.

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night while on this excursion, during a conversation with Eduardo Nájera-Hillman, the Marine Program Lead at the World Wildlife Fund (WWF), he explained the urgency of the situation and how they stepped forward to support Dr. Ramirez-Macías’ monitoring work. He said: "In 2016, when we initiated the project funding Dení's monitoring, 77% of [whale] sharks in the area were injured." Collaboratively, the groups also joined forces with the National Commission of Protected Areas (CONANP) to develop a comprehensive conservation management plan. To ensure the plan's effectiveness and inclusivity, consultations were conducted with local tourism operators, recognising their crucial role in the region's economy. Together, they formed the first regulation plan, one that prioritised whale shark conservation and sustainable tourism practices. This collaborative effort set the stage for transformative change, paving the way towards a more responsible and ethical approach to whale shark conservation in Baja California Sur. A significant milestone was achieved in 2018, when authorities officially introduced the La Paz Bay Refuge Area to stop boat collisions with shark population, marking a positive first step forward towards protecting whale sharks in the region. Later on, the Management Plan for Conservation and Non-Extractive Use of Whale Sharks by Snorkelling and Watching in the Bay of La Paz was announced, further enhancing the communitybased measures to protect them. Dr. Ramirez-Macías’ monitoring programme played a pivotal role in this process and informed decision-making. Through her research, crucial data was gathered to determine the number of whale sharks present in the Mogote Refuge Area and to establish the appropriate carrying capacity for boats allowed into the area on any given day. “Dení is key for policy and management rules that have been put in place,” highlighted Nájera-Hillman. “Her information tells us how many whale sharks are there, what size they are and that they come back every year to feed in the same area. We know the Mogote area is a critical habitat because of Dení’s research.” Once the refuge area was established, a collaboration with Mexico's Environmental Ministry (Secretaría de Medio Ambiente y Recursos Naturales) led to the implementation of a checkpoint for boats. However, challenges arose during peak times when hundreds of boats would be waiting for their turn. This led to collaborative efforts across all sectors to address the issues. Now, at least six whale sharks must be present for tour boats to enter and a maximum of 14 are allowed in at a time to prevent overcrowding and disturbances to the whale sharks. Dany Muñiz, a local whale shark guide and biologist, highlighted the active involvement of guides during regulation changes. "We’ve all had our chance to give our opinion,” she explained. At the start of each juvenile

season in the Mogote Refuge Area, all guides partake in a day of informative workshops and engaging activities alongside scientists, the Mexican Navy, and authorities. These sessions serve to review the previous season's experiences, discuss the rules and guidelines for conducting activities in the area and introduce any new changes to the management plans. With the involvement of local guides and captains in conservation management planning, the impact of tourism has extended beyond merely popularising the existence of whale sharks. It has also put a much-needed spotlight on their endangered conservation status. During their tours, certified guides brief visitors on the species by educating them about their endangered conservation status and the privilege it is to swim alongside them. Since initiating the WWF’s project to fund Dr. Ramirez-Macías’ monitoring work, incidents of whale shark injuries have been reduced by 30%. “We know we have to keep working to make it 0, but we're very happy we know how to do it now and we're on the right track, people are getting engaged,” shared NájeraHillman. He further added: "We're now developing a protection programme that is not only for tourism but for all activities happening around the whale shark refuge. For everything - other boat traffic, fishing, coastal development, water quality - we have to engage everyone.” Speaking with Alberto about the future of whale sharks in the region, he said: “In 2021, we received a remarkable assessment from scientists, indicating that there is great potential for the whale shark species to no longer be endangered within the next 100 years, provided we maintain our conservation efforts." He smiled brightly and added: "This encouraging outlook motivates us to keep going and protect the sharks.” For Dr. Ramirez-Macías, the next steps for whale shark conservation involve collaboration with fishermen to prevent the entrapment of whale sharks in nets within the Mogote area. "By giving a break to the nets in the area, it's not only crucial for protecting whale sharks but also for other shark species like hammerheads, silky sharks, and mola rays, which are also protected," she explained. Ideally, Dr. Ramirez-Macías envisions more protected areas in the Gulf of California, creating a connected network of managed zones. Using the whale shark as an indicator of areas with high productivity, avoiding fisheries in these places can lead to significant ocean recovery and result in a healthier marine ecosystem. Just as all living things thrive in diversity, the collaborative conservation approach in La Paz embraces the valuable contributions of each stakeholder, illuminating their unique perspectives and insights. Through this harmony of voices, marine life flourishes and the local economy prospers. The brilliance of this shared area shines as a bright example of the possibilities achieved through collaborative conservation.

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Gerald Genta’s 1972 ‘luxury stainless steel‘ concept was not an instant success. Brands, like IWC, took a few years to catch on. But the Ingeniuer he eventually designed for them remains in their range. And includes a refreshed version launched last April. That same month we introduced our own integrated bracelet watch: ‘The Twelve’. It too sports a 40mm case (with a polished, brushed and sandblasted bezel.) It too will resist water to 100 meters. But ours is less than 10mm thick. And £9450 less to buy. Unsurprisingly it was an instant success. Now available in 36mm with new dial colours, it’s also even more accessible. Genius, eh? Do your research.

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