If you’ve ever dived off Casino Point in Catalina, it’s possible you have encountered one of the most magnificent fish ever to ply the cold waters of California. The Giant Sea Bass, also known as Stereolepis gigas, has long been a majestic part of California’s coastal ecosystems. This behemoth of a fish can grow up to nearly 7 and a half feet long, weighing a whopping 560 pounds, and can live to the age of 75. These gigantic, slow-moving sea creatures were once a common sight in the coastal waters of Southern California, particularly around Catalina Island. However, overfishing in the 20th century dramatically reduced their populations to critically low levels. Now, thanks to conservation efforts, these gentle giants are making a triumphant, albeit precarious, return. This is their story of recovery and resilience.
Giant Sea Bass weighing over 400 pounds caught at Catalina in 1906
The plight of the Giant Sea Bass is a familiar story in the annals of marine conservation. Abundant in the early 1900s, they were targeted by both commercial and recreational fishers. Their large size and slow-moving nature made them an easy and attractive target. Overfishing led to a sharp decline in their numbers. By the 1970s, sightings had become rare, sparking concerns about the species’ survival.
However, the Giant Sea Bass was not ready to fade away into history. The California Department of Fish and Wildlife stepped in during the 1980s, implementing measures to protect the species. A ban was placed on commercial and recreational fishing, and a concerted effort was made to restore their habitat around the Southern California coast, especially around Catalina Island.
If you are a diver, Catalina Island is a hotspot to see Giant Sea Bass. (Erik Olsen)
The breeding population of giant sea bass — which is listed as critically endangered by the International Union for Conservation of Nature — is believed to be only about 500 individuals. But since the ban on fishing and the launch of habitat restoration projects, the Giant Sea Bass has been on a steady journey towards recovery. Research groups and marine scientists have been monitoring their numbers around Catalina Island, a critical habitat for the species. Much of the work has been done at the Wrigley Marine Science Center (WMSC), the USC Wrigley Institute for Environmental Studies’ satellite campus on Santa Catalina Island. They’ve been using a variety of methods, including underwater surveys and remotely operated vehicles (ROVs), to track the population.
Their work has yielded promising results. The number of Giant Sea Bass sightings has been steadily increasing over the years. Juvenile Giant Sea Bass have also been spotted, a positive sign that the species is breeding successfully. These observations suggest that their populations are recovering, albeit slowly.
In 2019 California State University, Northridge (CSUN), the Aquarium of the Pacific, and Cabrillo Marine Aquarium announced a successful joint effort involving raising and releasing juvenile giant sea bass into the ocean. For this project, CSUN shared giant sea bass eggs in an attempt to produce offspring. Three juveniles were raised at the Aquarium of the Pacific, and the Cabrillo Marine Aquarium successfully reared hundreds of baby giant sea bass babies from these eggs. In March 2020, 200 baby giant sea bass were released into the murky waters of Santa Monica Bay.
University of California Santa Barbara
Catalina Island, a jewel in Southern California’s marine landscape, is another big part of this conservation success. The island’s surrounding waters offer the perfect habitat for the Giant Sea Bass, with its ample kelp forests and rocky reefs, not to mention the ocean tends to be much cleaner around Catalina than along the mainland coast. The island’s commitment to marine conservation, exemplified by the Catalina Island Conservancy and its partners, has provided the ideal conditions for the species to rebound.
In addition to the protective regulations, the Island’s community has embraced their role as stewards of their marine environment. Local scuba divers often act as citizen scientists, providing valuable data through sightings and photographs of the Giant Sea Bass. We at California Curated have seen several of them while diving, gaping in awe as they hover like zeppelins in the kelp beds of Casino Point.
Researchers who have been studying large fish in Southern California for decades say persistence is key to successful conservation efforts for giant sea bass. Although their numbers have increased, they are only about 20% of what’s needed for long-term survival. Researchers understands fishers’ frustrations but believe the fishing ban must remain for 20-30 more years to prevent repeating past overfishing. Since giant sea bass take 11-13 years to reach maturity, their recovery is slow, and even a few boats could severely impact the current population.
The return of the Giant Sea Bass is a beacon of hope, reminding us of the resilience of nature when given a chance to recover. But the journey is far from over. While their numbers are increasing, the Giant Sea Bass still faces threats, including pollution, habitat degradation, and the looming challenges of climate change.
The Giant Sea Bass at the California Academy of Sciences.
Conservationists argue that the Giant Sea Bass’s recovery illustrates the importance of a multi-faceted approach to marine conservation. Protective legislation, habitat restoration, scientific research, and community engagement all played critical roles in this success story.
Although the story is far from over and recovery is incomplete, the story of the Giant Sea Bass stands as a testament to the impact of conservation, of thinking hard and acting on the protection of species and fragile environments. Continued research, monitoring, and community engagement will be essential to ensure the long-term survival of the giant sea bass. Their resurgence offers a valuable opportunity to learn from our past mistakes and work together to ensure a brighter future for these gentle giants and the marine ecosystems they call home.
When we step outside and see wildlife, we often think of it as unchanging. A bird on a branch, a crab in a tide pool, a lizard skittering across a sidewalk. It feels timeless. But in truth, these animals are evolving, slowly and steadily, right in front of us. As climates become more unpredictable, habitats shift, food sources change, and nature adapts. This is especially true in our cities. Built over just the past few centuries, these sprawling human environments are reshaping the natural world and pushing wildlife to adjust in new and often surprising ways.
As California’s cities have expanded and encroached upon natural landscapes, it turns out the state’s wildlife is adapting in fascinating ways. Studying these changes is central to urban evolution, or how species adapt over time, both genetically and behaviorally, to the unique pressures of city life. From coyotes navigating traffic to birds adjusting their songs to be heard over city noise, urban evolution reveals how nature is not just surviving in cities, but evolving with them. Darwin believed natural selection was too slow to observe in real time, but today we know evolution can happen rapidly, sometimes within just a few generations.
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Dark-eyed junco in Southern California (Photo: Alex Fu)
One cool example of urban evolution in California is the story of the dark-eyed junco (Junco hyemalis), a small songbird traditionally found in mountainous forests that is now thriving in urban environments like San Diego and Los Angeles. If you’re a birder or simply someone who enjoys watching the wildlife in your backyard, you’ve almost certainly seen them. Dark-eyed juncos are small songbirds with distinctive dark heads, often spotted hopping around on the ground rather than perching at feeders. I see them all the time, pecking at the spilled seeds beneath my feeder (or, I should say feeders, as I have several…nerd alert!). It turns out they’re classic ground foragers, evolved to search for food by scratching through leaf litter or snow, uncovering seeds, insects, and other hidden bits.
Recent research has revealed that dark-eyed juncos are evolving in direct response to urban life. Traditionally migratory, these birds once spent summers breeding in cool mountain forests and winters at lower elevations. But in the early 1980s, a group of juncos broke from that pattern and settled year-round on the campus of UC San Diego. There, researchers began documenting striking behavioral shifts. The urban juncos were bolder, less fearful of humans, and had even altered their mating and nesting habits. These changes, observed over just a few decades, offer a vivid example of how quickly species can adapt to city environments, a real-time case study in urban evolution unfolding in human-shaped habitats.
University of California San Diego (Photo: Erik Olsen)
Similarly, at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), a junco population has been thriving for decades, with numbers reaching approximately 300. This long-term success has provided the Yeh Lab at UCLA with a unique opportunity to study how urban environments influence the evolution and behavior of these adaptable songbirds. Their research sheds light on how juncos have adjusted to city life, offering broader insights into wildlife resilience in human-altered habitats.
“It’s impressive how rapidly these vertebrate species can evolve. In a matter of a handful of years, we can find some pretty significant changes,” Pamela Yeh, an associate professor in ecology and evolutionary biology at UCLA, told California Curated. Yeh studied the junco population at UC San Diego when she was an undergraduate student there and wanted to expand the research to the population at UCLA. Studying the two different populations may offer insights into how species evolve in urban environments.
“We want to know, does a city make you evolve?” asks Yeh. “Do the different cities make you evolve similarly? Do the birds all become smaller? Do they all become bigger? Do they all have different-sized beaks? Or is each city unique?”
Dark-eyed junco at UCLA (Photo: Sierra Glassman)
With decades of data, the work echoes the groundbreaking research of Princeton scientists Peter and Rosemary Grant, whose studies of Galápagos finches transformed our understanding of how swiftly natural selection can operate. Now, the junco studies are taking that idea further, showing evolution unfolding not on remote islands, but in the heart of our cities.
“I think it’s now really considered a model vertebrate system for urban evolution,” says Yeh.
In their natural forest environments, juncos breed in response to the changing seasons, triggered by increasing daylight hours and rising temperatures. But in urban areas like those around UCSD and UCLA, where food is plentiful year-round, juncos have begun breeding earlier than normal and throughout the year. They build nests higher off the ground, often on artificial structures, and have increased the number of clutches per breeding season. The availability of artificial light, abundant food from human sources, and fewer natural predators in the city all play roles in these behavioral shifts.
Yeh believes it’s no accident that junco populations have surged on college campuses in recent decades. In fact, she sees it as a direct response to the unique conditions these urban environments provide.
“We think it is is partially that [urban university environments] mimic the natural environment, which is a mix of meadows and tall trees. But the other thing that we think could be important is the irrigation in grassy areas that allow the juncos, even when it’s extremely hot, there are still small insects and worms to grab and feed their offspring.”
One of the most striking adaptations among urban juncos is their behavioral shift in regards to people. Unlike their shy mountain counterparts, urban juncos are much more tolerant of human presence. This is not only a matter of convenience; it’s a survival mechanism. In the city, humans are not a threat, and urban birds need to capitalize on the resources provided by their proximity to people. Their lack of fear “allows them to keep eating even when we walk by,” says Yeh.
Dark-eyed junco in Southern California (Photo: Alex Fu)
Studying junco evolution isn’t just a scientific curiosity. It has real conservation stakes. Things haven’t been looking good for birds. An October 2019 study published in Science by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology revealed that North America has lost nearly 3 billion birds over the past 50 years, with dark-eyed juncos alone declining by 168 million. Yet their ability to adapt to urban life suggests they may have the evolutionary tools needed to weather these dramatic changes.
Beyond behavior, there are physical differences between urban and rural populations of dark-eyed juncos. Urban juncos, for example, developed duller black plumage on their heads and showed reduced white markings in their tail feathers. Yeh and her team have also documented that the wings of urban juncos are smaller, an adaptation likely driven by the demands of maneuvering through a dense, built environment rather than long-distance flight.
Ellie Diamant, currently a Ph.D. candidate in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology at UCLA in the Yeh Lab, holding a dark-eyed junco. (Photo: Ellie Diamant)
“Juncos historically were migratory birds. The ones that live in the mountains still are. But in the urban environments, we see them year-round,” says Dr. Ellie Diamant, Visiting Assistant Professor at Bard College. “So the benefits are gone for the longer-distance flight, but there seems to be more benefit for these short wings.” Diamant completed her Ph.D. in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology at UCLA in the Yeh Lab.
The dark-eyed junco is just one example of the broader phenomenon of urban evolution, where species adjust to the challenges and opportunities posed by city life. In California, this phenomenon extends beyond birds. Coyotes, for example, have become fixtures in cities like Los Angeles, adapting to scavenge food from human waste. Coastal animals like sea lions and pelicans have also made urban waterfronts their home, thriving amid the bustle of human activity. Similarly, the Western Fence Lizard has swiftly adapted to life in an urbanized environment.
Junco hatchlings at UCLA. (Photo: Sierra Glassman)
In his book Darwin Comes to Town, Dutch evolutionary biologist Menno Schilthuizen highlights the junco as an exemplar of rapid evolution in urban settings, but it also goes much further, documenting how our manmade environments are accelerating and changing the evolution of the animals and plants around us. Of course, it’s not all good news. Not by a long shot.
Studies published in Evolutionary Applications, underscore that urbanization is a double-edged sword, offering opportunities for adaptation but also introducing serious threats. In Los Angeles, for instance, the fragmentation of habitat by highways has led to the deaths of countless animals, a problem now being tackled through the construction of wildlife bridges like the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing opening in 2026, designed to reconnect critical migration routes.
Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing currently under construction (Photo: State of California)
The dark-eyed junco’s ability to adapt to city life is both encouraging and a bit sobering. It shows how some wildlife can adjust and find ways to thrive even as human development spreads. But it also reflects the growing pressure we’re putting on natural ecosystems. In other words, it’s not all good, and it’s not all bad. As scientists dig deeper into urban ecology in California and elsewhere, the junco stands out as a clear example of how life shifts and changes in response to the world we’re shaping.
For those of us who live in cities, the juncos flitting through parks, pecking in our yards, and hopping across college campuses offer a chance to see evolution happening right in front of us. Nature isn’t some distant thing beyond the city limits. It’s here, threaded into the daily patterns of urban life.
In the summer of 1942, aboard the USS Jasper, a team of scientists embarked on a mission off the coast of San Diego, California, a hub for U.S. Navy operations and other military activities vital for the Pacific Theater of World War II. Their goal was to test a new technology called “long-range active sonar,” developed to detect enemy submarines—specifically Japanese submarines and German U-boats—during World War II. Long-range active sonar is a technology that sends sound waves through the ocean to map and visualize the seafloor across great distances, revealing details of underwater topography and structures that would otherwise remain hidden beneath the waves.
The expedition was led by Carl F. Eyring, an accomplished acoustic physicist known for his pioneering work in sonar technology. Eyring, along with his colleagues Ralph A. Christensen and Russell W. Raitt, played crucial roles in the mission. Their combined expertise in acoustics, naval operations, and marine science made them the perfect team to explore the deep ocean with sound.
The USS Jasper in 1945—just a few years after scientists discovered the first evidence of the Deep Scattering Layer during a research cruise aboard the ship. (Photo: Naval History and Heritage Command)
As they deployed sonar pulses into the depths, they encountered an unexpected anomaly: a persistent, dense layer approximately 300 yards (about 274 meters) below the surface that scattered their acoustic signals. It was almost as if the ocean floor had risen, looming closer with a strange, unyielding presence that defied all explanations.
This new reading was a complete anomaly, contradicting everything they knew about the seafloor’s topology. It was as though a solid mass had somehow materialized in the depths—a mass dense enough to obscure their sonar and make the familiar landscape unrecognizable. At the same time, their signal strength readings spiked erratically, suggesting significant interference in the water.
Carl F. Eyring (Brigham Young University)
The discovery of this peculiar layer presented an intriguing puzzle to the scientists aboard the Jasper. Yet, with a war raging, they couldn’t afford to lose focus. Instead, they concentrated on measuring its dimensions and mitigating the acoustic interference it created. Determining its true nature would have to wait for another time.
It wasn’t until almost three years later, in 1945, that oceanographer Martin Johnson deployed nets into the Pacific and uncovered the truth: the layer was actually a massive cloud of marine animals, most no larger than a human finger, migrating daily from the deep ocean to the surface and back. This dense biological layer, packed with animals capable of reflecting sonar, had created the illusion of a solid mass, effectively “masking” the true depth of the ocean floor by reflecting sonar waves off the swim bladders of the fish and other marine organisms.
Bristlemouth trawled from the ocean’s twilight zone (Erik Olsen)
This phenomenon, later termed the Deep Scattering Layer (DSL), created a “false bottom” in sonar readings, revealing an unexpectedly dense concentration of biological life in a mid-ocean zone once thought to be relatively sparse. The discovery of the DSL challenged assumptions about life distribution in the ocean, showing that vast numbers of organisms—such as fish, squid, and zooplankton—populate these depths, rising and descending with daily cycles to avoid predators and optimize feeding.
The DSL is situated within the ocean’s mesopelagic zone, commonly referred to as the twilight zone, which extends from about 200 to 1,000 meters below the surface. This region is characterized by minimal sunlight penetration and hosts a diverse array of marine life. Indeed, this huge swath of biomass is exactly what the sonar was picking up. This remarkable behavior observed in this zone is the diurnal vertical migration—the largest daily movement of biomass on Earth, the world’s largest animal migration. Each evening, billions of organisms (some scientists actually believe they number into the quadrillions) including small fish like lanternfish, hatchetfish and bristlemouths, ascend toward the surface to feed under the cover of darkness, retreating to the depths at dawn to evade predators. (Bristlemouths, by the way, are said to be the most numerous vertebrate on the planet.)
Scattering layer seen on sonar (Erik Olsen)
The discovery of the DSL provided significant insights into marine biology and oceanography. The layer’s composition—primarily swarms of marine animals with gas-filled swim bladders—explained the sonar reflections that mimicked the seafloor. This understanding highlighted the abundance and biodiversity of life in the twilight zone and underscored the importance of these organisms in oceanic ecosystems.
The discovery also led over time to an understanding of the role this layer plays in the carbon cycle, the very phenomenon that helps regulate Earth’s climate. The daily migration of marine animals in this layer is not just a remarkable biological spectacle; it is also a key mechanism for transporting carbon from the ocean’s surface to its depths. As these organisms ascend at night to feed and then return to deeper waters during the day, they excrete waste and many of them die, effectively moving carbon downwards, often sequestering it in the deep ocean floor where it can remain for centuries. This process, known as the biological carbon pump, plays a vital role in mitigating the effects of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, thus contributing to climate stability. Without the existence of the Deep Scattering Layer and its role in the carbon cycle, the Earth’s carbon balance would be significantly different, highlighting just how interconnected marine ecosystems are with global climate regulation.
In the decades following its discovery, the DSL has remained a subject of scientific inquiry. Advancements in sonar technology and deep-sea exploration have revealed the layer’s dynamic nature and its role in global carbon cycling.
Current research into the twilight zone, particularly by scientists at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution (WHOI), is uncovering fascinating insights into this enigmatic region of the ocean. The twilight zone remains one of the least explored parts of the ocean, despite being home to an abundance of life and playing a crucial role in global biogeochemical cycles. Woods Hole has been at the forefront of investigating this layer, employing advanced technology like remotely operated vehicles (ROVs), autonomous underwater vehicles (AUVs), submersibles, and cutting-edge acoustic techniques to understand its complex dynamics and ecosystem.
One of the leading researchers at WHOI, Dr. Heidi Sosik, has been focusing on the role that the twilight zone plays in the carbon cycle. Sosik’s work involves the use of automated imaging technologies to analyze the behavior and diversity of the organisms inhabiting this region. By documenting their daily migrations and interactions, Sosik’s team has been able to quantify the extent to which these animals contribute to carbon transport. This research is essential for understanding how much carbon is effectively being sequestered from the atmosphere through these daily migrations.
Bristlemouth fish (Erik Olsen)
Another prominent scientist at WHOI, Dr. Andone Lavery, is working to map the twilight zone’s acoustics in unprecedented detail. Lavery’s expertise in underwater sound technology has helped reveal not only the composition of the Deep Scattering Layer but also the behaviors of its inhabitants. Lavery’s recent findings indicate that the twilight zone’s acoustic properties are far more dynamic than previously thought, and these properties can significantly affect how marine animals detect predators and prey, as well as how researchers measure biomass in this layer.
Dr. Simon Thorrold, also from WHOI, has been studying the food web dynamics within the twilight zone. Thorrold’s research has uncovered surprising insights into predator-prey relationships among mesopelagic species. Using chemical tracers, his team has been able to track the movement of nutrients through the food web, revealing that many animals from the twilight zone are integral to surface ecosystems as well, either through vertical migration or being preyed upon by larger species such as tuna, swordfish, and marine mammals.
Scientists use a Triton submersible to explore the ocean’s twilight zone in the Bahamas. (Erik Olsen)
In addition, WHOI has been collaborating with international partners on the “Twilight Zone Exploration” (TZX) project, which aims to better understand how human activities, such as fishing and climate change, are impacting this critical part of the ocean. The mesopelagic zone is increasingly targeted by commercial fishing due to the sheer biomass it holds. Dr. Sosik and her colleagues are actively studying the potential consequences of harvesting these species, considering their importance in carbon sequestration and as a key link in marine food webs.
Together, these efforts are gradually revealing the twilight zone’s secrets, emphasizing its importance not only in regulating climate but also in maintaining the health of marine ecosystems. As the pressures of climate change and human exploitation continue to grow, understanding this mysterious part of the ocean has never been more critical.
The USS Jasper‘s encounter with the false bottom off California’s coast stands as a pivotal moment in oceanographic history. It not only unveiled the hidden complexities of the ocean’s twilight zone but also bridged the gap between military technology and marine science, leading to a deeper appreciation of the intricate and interconnected nature of Earth’s marine environments.
From Battlefront to Atomic Legacy: The Journey of the USS Independence to Its Final Resting Place off Northern California
The U.S. Navy light aircraft carrier USS Independence (CVL-22) in San Francisco Bay (USA) on 15 July 1943. Note that she still carries Douglas SBD Dauntless dive bombers. Before entering combat the air group would only consist of Grumman F6F Hellcat fighters and TBF Avenger torpedo bombers. (Wikipedia)
The waters off California’s coast are scattered with relics of wartime history, each telling its own story of conflict and survival. Among these wrecks is the USS Independence, a WWII aircraft carrier whose journey took it from the heights of naval warfare to the depths of nuclear experimentation. Today, it lies as an underwater monument to both wartime heroics and the nascent atomic age.
Converted from the hull of a Cleveland-class light cruiser, the USS Independence was built by the New York Shipbuilding Corporation and commissioned in January 1943. She quickly became a key player in the Pacific Theater. She took part in early attacks on Rabaul and Tarawa before being torpedoed by Japanese aircraft, necessitating repairs in San Francisco from January to July 1944. After these repairs, the Independence launched strikes against targets in Luzon and Okinawa, and was part of the carrier group that sank remnants of the Japanese Mobile Fleet during the Battle of Leyte Gulf, as well as several other Japanese ships in the Surigao Strait.
It took part in pivotal operations such as those at Tarawa, Kwajalein, and the Marianas, contributing significantly to the success of Allied forces. Until the surrender of Japan, she was assigned to strike duties against targets in the Philippines and Japan, and she completed her operational duty off the coast of Japan, supporting occupation forces until being assigned to be a part of Operation Magic Carpet, an operation by the U.S. War Shipping Administration to repatriate over eight million American military personnel from the European, Pacific, and Asian theaters. The ship’s role in supporting invasions and launching strikes helped secure a strategic advantage in the Pacific, establishing the Independence as an integral part of the U.S. Navy’s war effort.
Aerial view of ex-USS Independence at anchor in San Francisco Bay, California, January 1951. There is visible damage from the atomic bomb tests at Bikini Atoll. (San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park)
After WWII ended, the Independence was not destined for a peaceful decommissioning like many of her sister ships. Instead, it was selected for an unprecedented mission: to test the effects of nuclear explosions on naval vessels. In 1946, the Independence became part of Operation Crossroads at Bikini Atoll, a series of nuclear tests aimed at understanding the power of atomic bombs. Positioned near ground zero for the “Able” and “Baker” detonations, the carrier survived but sustained heavy radioactive contamination. Towed back to the United States, it became the subject of further scientific study, focusing on radiation’s effects on naval ships.
Thermonuclear blast part of Operation Crossroads
Ultimately, in 1951, the Navy decided to scuttle the Independence off the coast of California, within what is now the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary and near the Farallon Islands. The ship was intentionally sunk in deep waters, where it would remain hidden for over sixty years. In 2015, researchers from NOAA, in partnership with Boeing and other organizations, used advanced sonar technology to locate the wreck. Lying nearly 2,600 feet below the surface and approximately 30 miles off the coast of San Francisco, the Independence was found in remarkably good condition. The cold, dark waters of the Pacific had preserved much of its hull and flight deck, leaving a ghostly relic that continued to capture the imagination of historians and marine scientists alike.
The U.S. Navy light aircraft carrier USS Independence (CVL-22) afire aft, soon after the atomic bomb air burst test “Able” at Bikini Atoll on 1 July 1946. (US NAVY)
In 2016, the exploration vessel Nautilus, operated by the Ocean Exploration Trust, conducted detailed dives to study the wreck. The exploration utilized remotely operated vehicles (ROVs), equipped with high-definition cameras and scientific tools, to capture extensive footage and data. The mission was led by a multidisciplinary team of researchers, including marine biologists, archaeologists, and oceanographers from NOAA and the Ocean Exploration Trust, highlighting the collaborative effort necessary for such an in-depth underwater expedition. Remotely operated vehicles (ROVs) provided stunning footage of the carrier, revealing aircraft remnants on the deck and bomb casings that hinted at its atomic test history.
Part of an aircraft on the USS Independence seen during the NOAA / Nautilus expedition off the coast of California. (NOAA)
Despite its radioactive past, the wreck had transformed into a thriving artificial reef. Marine life, including fish, crustaceans, and corals, had made the irradiated structure their home, providing researchers with a valuable opportunity to study how marine ecosystems adapt to and flourish on man-made, contaminated structures. Among the biological discoveries, researchers noted a variety of resilient species that had colonized the wreck, including deep-sea corals that appeared to be unaffected by the radiation levels. Additionally, biologists observed that some fish populations had become more abundant due to the complex structure offered by the wreck, which provided shelter and new breeding grounds. This adaptation indicates that artificial reefs—even those with a history of contamination—can become crucial havens for marine biodiversity. Studies also identified microorganisms capable of thriving in irradiated environments, which could help inform future research into bioremediation and the impact of radiation on biological processes. These findings collectively reveal the remarkable ability of marine life to adapt, demonstrating resilience even in challenging conditions shaped by human activities.
The shipwreck site of the former aircraft carrier, Independence, is located in the northern region of Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary.
The ship’s resting place has also become an important case study for understanding the long-term effects of radiation in marine environments. Researchers have found that despite the contamination from the atomic tests, the marine life around the Independence has flourished, suggesting a remarkable resilience in the face of human-induced challenges. This has provided invaluable information on how marine ecosystems can adapt and endure even in seemingly inhospitable conditions, shedding light on ecological processes that could inform conservation efforts in other marine environments.
Guns on the USS Independence off the coast of California. An array of corals sponges and fish life are a remarkable testament to manmade reefs to attract sea life (NOAA)
The exploration of the Independence also stands as a technological achievement. The discovery and study of the wreck required advanced sonar imaging and remotely operated vehicle technology, showcasing the capabilities of modern marine archaeology. The collaboration between NOAA, the Ocean Exploration Trust, and other organizations has underscored the importance of interdisciplinary approaches in uncovering and preserving underwater cultural heritage.
Ultimately, the USS Independence is more than just a sunken warship—it is a chapter of American history frozen in time beneath the waves of the Pacific. As a subject of study, it bridges past conflicts with modern scientific inquiry, providing a rich narrative that combines warfare, innovation, and nature’s adaptability. Its story continues to evolve as researchers uncover more about the vessel and the surrounding ecosystem, making it not only a relic of history but also a symbol of discovery and resilience.
Update (February 2025): The Ivanpah Solar Electric Generating System, once a milestone in renewable energy, now faces possible closure. Pacific Gas & Electric has agreed to terminate its contracts, citing the higher cost of Ivanpah’s solar-thermal technology compared to photovoltaics. If approved, two of the plant’s three units could shut down by 2026. Southern California Edison is also considering a contract buyout, adding to uncertainty. Environmental concerns, including bird and tortoise deaths from intense solar radiation, have further complicated Ivanpah’s legacy, reflecting the challenges of large-scale clean energy projects.
In the heart of the Mojave Desert, a glittering sea of mirrors sprawls across 3,500 acres, harnessing the relentless desert sun to power homes and businesses across California. As you drive to or from Las Vegas to the West, the facility rises from the desert, resembling an alien spaceport in the distance. From the air, passengers on flights over the desert can easily spot the plant, with its three towering structures gleaming nearly as brilliantly as the sun.
This ambitious undertaking, known as the Ivanpah Solar Electric Generating System, stands as one of the largest concentrated solar power (CSP) plants in the world. Since its completion in 2014, Ivanpah has been celebrated as a major milestone in renewable energy innovation, while also facing considerable scrutiny and challenges.
The idea behind Ivanpah was born from the vision of BrightSource Energy, led by Arnold Goldman, who was an early pioneer of solar thermal technology. Goldman had previously been involved with Luz International, a company that attempted similar solar ventures in the 1980s. Those early projects struggled due to high costs and limited efficiency, eventually falling victim to the market forces of low fossil fuel prices and a lack of policy support. But by the mid-2000s, the winds had shifted. California, driven by its Renewable Portfolio Standard (RPS), began pushing aggressively for renewable energy sources, setting ambitious targets that mandated utilities procure a large percentage of their electricity from clean sources. This provided fertile ground for a revived effort in concentrated solar power.
Ivanpah Solar Power Facility, a glittering sea of mirrors sprawls across 3,500 acres, harnessing the relentless desert sun to power homes and businesses across California. (Erik Olsen)
With significant financial backing from NRG Energy, Google—which has a strong interest in promoting renewable energy as part of its sustainability goals—and the U.S. Department of Energy (which provided a $1.6 billion loan guarantee), the Ivanpah project broke ground in 2010 and began operation in 2014. By its completion, it had become a landmark renewable energy installation—a bold attempt to demonstrate the viability of CSP technology at scale, with a capacity of 392 megawatts (MW), enough to power around 140,000 homes at peak production.
Ivanpah’s CSP technology differs significantly from the more common photovoltaic (PV) solar panels that typically sprawl across rooftops and solar farms. Instead of directly converting sunlight into electricity, Ivanpah employs a central tower system that uses concentrated solar power to generate steam. The facility harnesses the reflections of 173,500 heliostats (large mirrors) spread across the desert floor, each of which tracks the sun throughout the day using computer algorithms, reflecting sunlight onto a central receiver at the top of Ivanpah’s three 450-foot towers.
Photovoltaic solar array in the Mojave Desert in California (Erik Olsen)
Inside these towers, the intense, concentrated sunlight heats water to temperatures of over 1,000°F (537°C). This heat turns water into steam, which drives turbines to generate electricity. This process—turning solar energy into heat, then into steam, and finally into electricity—requires multiple stages of energy conversion, introducing inefficiencies along the way. While innovative, these conversions come with inherent energy losses that ultimately affect overall efficiency. Some of these inefficiencies and energy losses were unanticipated, demonstrating the complexities of scaling concentrated solar power to this level.
The theoretical efficiency of CSP systems like Ivanpah is generally around 15-20%. By comparison, modern PV panels convert sunlight directly into electricity, achieving efficiencies of 15-22%, with some high-end models exceeding 25%. The direct conversion of sunlight by PV systems avoids the multiple stages of transformation needed by CSP, making PV generally more efficient and cost-effective. That is not to say the project was not an unworthwhile effort, just that it has not yet met the early expectations for the technology.
Ivanpah Solar Power Facility from an airplane. (Erik Olsen)
While Ivanpah was a leap forward in solar technology, it has faced several challenges, both technical and environmental. One of the first issues arose in the initial years of operation: the plant produced less electricity than anticipated, often falling short of its projected targets. This shortfall was attributed to a combination of technical complications, lower-than-expected solar irradiance, and operational adjustments as engineers sought to optimize the plant’s complex systems.
In addition, Ivanpah relies on natural gas to preheat its boilers in the early morning or during cloudy weather, ensuring the turbines are ready to operate as soon as the sun provides enough energy. This auxiliary use of natural gas has sparked criticism, with some questioning whether Ivanpah can truly be considered a clean, renewable energy source. While the natural gas usage is minimal relative to the plant’s total output, it highlights a practical limitation of CSP systems, which need to overcome the intermittent nature of sunlight.
Environmental impacts have also drawn attention. Ivanpah’s vast array of mirrors produces a phenomenon known as solar flux, a concentrated field of heat that can reach temperatures high enough to injure or kill birds flying through it. Dubbed ‘streamers,’ because of the smoke that comes from their wings when they burn in midair, birds that enter this concentrated beam often die. (Here’s a video about it.) A report from the California Energy Commission refers to what they call a “megatrap,” where birds are drawn to insects that are attracted to the intense light emitted from the towers. This unintended effect on wildlife has been a significant concern for conservation groups, prompting Ivanpah to work on mitigation measures, including testing visual deterrents to keep birds away.
A burned MacGillivray’s Warbler found at the Ivanpah solar plant during a visit by U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in October 2013. U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service/AP Photo
Moreover, the sheer size of Ivanpah, covering a significant area of desert land, has raised concerns about the impact on local ecosystems. The Mojave Desert is a delicate environment, and constructing such a large facility inevitably affected the flora and fauna, prompting debates about whether renewable energy projects should be balanced with efforts to preserve pristine habitats.
Ivanpah is just one of several large-scale CSP projects around the globe. Another notable example is the Noor Ouarzazate Solar Complex in Morocco, which is one of the largest CSP installations in the world. The Noor Complex uses both parabolic trough and solar tower technologies and, crucially, incorporates molten salt to store heat, allowing it to generate electricity even after the sun has set. The use of molten salt offers several advantages over water-based systems like Ivanpah. Molten salt can retain heat for longer periods, enabling the plant to continue generating power during periods of low sunlight or even after sunset, which greatly improves grid reliability and helps balance energy supply with demand.
The Crescent Dunes Solar Energy Project, once a symbol of cutting-edge solar technology with its 640-foot tower and field of over 10,000 mirrors, now stands as a cautionary tale of ambitious renewable energy efforts. Despite its initial promise, the project was plagued by technical issues and ultimately failed to meet its energy production goals, leading to its closure. (U.S. Department of Energy)
Similarly, the Crescent Dunes project in Nevada was another attempt to utilize molten salt for energy storage. It initially showed promise but struggled with technical setbacks and eventually ceased operation in 2019 due to persistent issues with the molten salt storage system and failure to meet performance expectations. The technology, although innovative, struggled with high maintenance costs, particularly with the heliostat mirrors and salt storage tanks. The company behind Crescent Dunes, SolarReserve, went bankrupt after being sued by NV Energy for failing to meet its contractual obligations.
Despite these setbacks, the project has not been fully decommissioned. ACS Cobra, the Spanish firm involved in its construction, now operates the plant at reduced capacity, mainly delivering energy during peak demand at night. Although Crescent Dunes has never reached its full potential, it continues to produce some electricity for Nevada’s grid, albeit far below the originally planned levels.
Crescent Dunes underscored the challenges associated with large-scale CSP projects, particularly the difficulty of balancing complexity, maintenance, and operational costs. However, the use of molten salt in Crescent Dunes demonstrated the significant potential for improving CSP efficiency through effective thermal storage, highlighting a critical advantage over water-based systems like Ivanpah that lack extensive storage capabilities.
While CSP holds the advantage of potential energy storage—something PV cannot inherently achieve without additional batteries—PV technology has seen a steep decline in cost and significant improvements in efficiency over the past decade. This rapid evolution has made PV panels more attractive, leading to widespread adoption across both utility-scale and residential projects. Hybrid projects, like Phase IV of the Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum Solar Park in Dubai, are now combining PV and CSP technologies to maximize efficiency and output, utilizing each technology’s strengths.
Ivanpah remains operational, continuing to contribute renewable energy to California’s grid.
Photovoltaic solar array in the Mojave Desert in California (Erik Olsen)
Governor Gavin Newsom has commented on the importance of renewable projects like Ivanpah in meeting California’s ambitious clean energy goals. Newsom has praised Ivanpah as a vital component of the state’s effort to transition away from fossil fuels, emphasizing the need for innovative projects to meet California’s target of achieving 100% renewable energy by 2045. He has highlighted the symbolic value of Ivanpah, not only as a source of clean energy but as a testament to California’s leadership in renewable technology and environmental stewardship. Its story is one of both ambition and caution, highlighting the promise of concentrated solar power as well as its practical and environmental limitations. In many ways, Ivanpah serves as a testbed for CSP technology, providing valuable insights into the challenges of scaling such systems to utility-level production. It has also sparked discussions on the role of CSP compared to other forms of renewable energy, especially as battery technology advances to address PV’s storage challenges.
While CSP is unlikely to overtake PV in terms of widespread adoption due to its complexity and cost, it still has a role to play, particularly in regions with intense sunlight and a need for energy storage. The lessons learned at Ivanpah—both the successes and the setbacks—will inform the next generation of solar projects, driving innovation and helping policymakers, engineers, and investors make more informed decisions about the future of renewable energy infrastructure.
Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum Solar Park (Government of Dubai)
California’s solar and renewable energy installations have seen remarkable success in recent years, as the state continues to push toward its ambitious goal of 100% clean electricity by 2045. In 2024, California achieved several milestones that highlight the effectiveness of its clean energy initiatives. For example, the state has more than 35,000 MW of renewable energy capacity already serving the grid, with 16,000 MW added just since 2020. A key component of this growth is the rapid expansion of battery storage, which has become essential for balancing the grid, especially during peak demand times when solar power diminishes in the evening. In 2024 alone, battery storage capacity grew by over 3,000 MW, bringing the total to more than 13,000 MW—a 30% increase in just six months
In addition to storage, new solar projects like the Blythe Solar Power Project, which generates 485 MW of photovoltaic power and adds 387 MW of battery storage, are powering over 145,000 homes, further demonstrating California’s leadership in clean energy development. This continued investment not only strengthens the grid but also ensures resilience during extreme weather events, which have become more frequent due to climate change.
Despite these successes, California still has a long way to go. The state will need to bring an additional 148,000 MW of renewable resources online by 2045 to fully meet its goals. However, with the state’s rapid advancements in storage technology, solar capacity, and governmental support, California is well on its way to achieving a cleaner, more sustainable energy future.
Google arranged the mirrors at Ivanpah to create a tribute to Margaret Hamilton, the pioneering computer scientist who led the software engineering efforts for the Apollo space missions. (Google)
Beyond its role in renewable energy, Ivanpah has also found itself at the intersection of technology and art. One notable example is when Google arranged the mirrors at Ivanpah to create a tribute to Margaret Hamilton, the pioneering computer scientist who led the software engineering efforts for the Apollo space missions. This artistic alignment of mirrors highlighted Ivanpah’s versatility—not just as an engineering marvel for energy generation but also as a symbol of human achievement. The intricate choreography of heliostats to form an image visible from above served as a powerful visual homage, merging art, science, and technology in a striking way. Such projects have helped broaden the cultural significance of Ivanpah, presenting it not only as a source of renewable energy but also as an inspirational platform that celebrates human creativity and accomplishment.
The next time you’re driving to Vegas and spot the three massive, sun-like objects glowing in the desert, give a thought to the immense power—and challenges—of harnessing the sun’s energy in such a dramatic way.
When you think of Southern California, bustling cities and sprawling suburbs likely come to mind. But amidst the concrete, glass, and steel, there’s a hidden world of wildlife quietly adapting to the rapid changes humans bring. Among the surprising survivors in this urban wilderness are creatures like the western fence lizard, seamlessly blending into the landscape. Yet, these lizards aren’t just surviving—they’re evolving right before our eyes, a living example of how urban ecology drives real-time adaptation and recent evolution.
If you live in Southern California, you’ve probably had the experience of walking out your front door and catching just the slightest flicker of movement in your peripheral vision. Your instincts kick in: something skittered, something small. You glance over and, sure enough, it’s Sceloporus occidentalis, better known as the western fence lizard.
This reptile is a regular in the California cast of critters. With its vibrant blue belly and sun-loving mien, it’s the unsung hero of our yards, patios, and hiking trails, darting from log to rock, always a step ahead. Impressively, the lizards have found a home in the urban sprawl of our cities, and new research reveals they are evolving to thrive here, adapting to the ever-changing urban landscape.
Western fence lizard’s blue belly.
It is the males who sport vibrant patches of blue on their bellies and throats, making them easy to identify. Females, while less flashy, still have a subtle charm with their more muted tones. They are able to darken or lighten their scales in response to environmental conditions, particularly temperature. In cooler conditions, they tend to darken, which helps them absorb more heat from the sun. Conversely, in warmer conditions, they may lighten to reflect sunlight and avoid overheating. This color change is not as dramatic as in animals like chameleons, but it’s an important survival mechanism for thermoregulation.
Western Fence Lizard
The Western Fence Lizard has a long and fascinating evolutionary history, stretching back millions of years. They belong to the genus Sceloporus, or spiny lizards, which consists of over 90 different species, and their closest relatives include the Sagebrush Lizard and the Eastern Fence Lizard, each of which they very closely resemble. These fantastic reptiles evolved to fill a specific ecological niche, with their coloration and agility being key to their survival in the wild.
The Western Fence Lizard is a versatile tenant, thriving in a range of habitats, from coastal sage scrub and chaparral to forests and grasslands. You see them everywhere in the San Gabriel Mountains, and throughout Southern California. They’re extremely common in backyards and some of the dryer areas around Los Angeles. These lizards are known for their love of basking in the sun, which they do to thermoregulate. You’ll often find them perched on rocks, fence posts, or tree branches, soaking up rays and keeping an eye out for predators and tasty nibbles. Small crickets are one of their favorites, although they will also munch on ants, beetles, spiders, grasshoppers, and flies. In fact, having a few of them in your yard can be a somewhat effective method of pest control.
The males sport vibrant patches of blue on their bellies and throats, making them easy to identify. (Erik Olsen)
When it comes to love, the Western Fence Lizard has some fascinating rituals. The mating season, which typically spans from April to July, is when the males put on a dazzling display to attract a mate. They perform a series of push-ups, showing off their bright blue bellies and throats. Scientists believe this is both a territorial display, typically to intimidate other male lizards and asserting dominance, but also a tact to impress females, who are wooed by the workout as well as the color, and who then select the most vigorous and flashy males to father their offspring. It’s not unlike what happens on a typical summer afternoon down at Muscle Beach in Santa Monica.
Western fence lizards lay their eggs in moist soil, and after a few months, a new generation of color-changing acrobats emerges, ready to take on the world. The females dig small burrows or shallow nests in these locations, and after laying the eggs, they cover them with soil to keep them insulated and safe. I love it when this happens because very often there are a dozen or more adorable little baby lizards hanging out around the yard.
The lizards are also an excellent local example of what called urban ecology. Urban ecology is the study of the relationships between living organisms and their environment in urban areas. Numerous studies around the world have shown that the spread and growth of urban environments has caused genetic changes in various species. It’s happening here, too, with our own local flora and fauna, including the western fence lizard.
“We usually think of evolution as being this super slow process that takes millions of years to happen and that no human could ever observe,” says San Diego State University herpetologist Kinsey Brock. “But really, things can happen fast when the environment changes quickly, and if they don’t, you don’t persist.”
Recent studies have shown that western fence lizards in California are not just surviving in urban environments—they’re adapting in fascinating ways, providing a glimpse into natural selection in real-time. As cities and suburbs expand into their natural habitats, these resilient reptiles have begun to develop traits that help them thrive in the concrete jungle. Researchers have found that urban lizards are exhibiting changes in their behavior and physiology compared to their rural counterparts. For example, they tend to have reduced escape responses to humans and other urban disturbances, likely because they’ve grown accustomed to frequent interactions with people and cars. Instead of darting away at the slightest movement, urban lizards may tolerate closer proximity to humans, conserving energy for more immediate threats.
Moreover, their physical traits are also shifting in response to city life. A recent study on western fence lizards in Los Angeles reveals how urbanization is driving evolutionary changes in this species morphology. Researchers at the University of California Los Angeles (UCLA) found that urban lizards have shorter limbs and smaller toes compared to their rural counterparts. These adaptations are likely responses to navigating artificial surfaces and coping with the warmer temperatures in cities.
Western fence lizard (Erik Olsen)
Another study conducted in Los Angeles found that urban western fence lizards have fewer scales than their rural counterparts, likely in response to the urban heat island effect. Lizards lose moisture through the skin between their scales, so those with many small scales have more exposed skin and greater evaporative water loss. In contrast, fewer and larger scales reduce the amount of exposed skin, minimizing water loss in the warmer urban environments. This adaptation helps urban lizards cope with the heat by retaining moisture more effectively, an essential trait for survival in cities where temperatures are often higher than in surrounding natural areas.
These changes are a testament to the flexibility of natural selection, as the urban landscape becomes a new selective pressure driving small but significant shifts in the species. It’s a remarkable example of how wildlife can adapt to human environments, and in a relatively short period of time, offering a window into how evolution can occur almost quickly even in the most unexpected places.
Last month, a video went viral showing a small pod of dolphins swimming at night off the coast of Newport Beach. Seeing dolphins off Southern California is not particularly unusual, but this was a very special moment. In the video, the dolphins appear to be swimming through liquid light, their torpedo-shaped bodies generating an ethereal blue glow like a scene straight out of Avatar. The phenomenon that causes the blue glow has been known for centuries, but that in no way detracts from its wonder and beauty. The phenomenon is called bioluminescence, and it is one of nature’s most magical and interesting phenomena.
A Caridean shrimp, Parapandalus sp., enveloped in bioluminescent spew emitted during an escape response. (NOAA/OER)
Bioluminescence is the production and emission of light by a living organism, and it is truly one of the great magical properties of nature. At its core, bioluminescence is the way animals can visually sense the world around them. It’s all built on vision, one of the most fascinating and useful senses in the animal kingdom. Seeing is impossible without light, and so it makes sense that in the absence of sunlight, some animals created a way to make their own light.
I have been fascinated by bioluminescence since I was a child growing up near Newport Beach when the occasional nearshore red tide bloom would illuminate the waves like a high tech LED light show. It’s a truly magical experience. I’ve also experienced bioluminescence in various places around the world, including Thailand, Mexico, and Puerto Rico. In fact, 13 years ago, I made the trip to Puerto Rico’s Vieques Island and its world-famous Mosquito Bay, for the sole purpose of seeing the bay in person and swimming and kayaking in its warm, glowing waters (there is a rental outfit there that does tours at night…it’s amazing. Trust me.)
The phenomenon of bioluminescence is surprisingly common in nature. Both terrestrial and sea animals do it, as do plants, insects (for example, fireflies), and fungi. Curiously, no mammals bioluminesce. That we know of, although several species fluoresce, which is when organisms absorb light at one wavelength and emit it at another, often under ultraviolet (UV) light. The platypus is an example. But the ocean is definitely the place that animals and plants bioluminesce the most. Which makes sense because deep in the ocean, there is little or no light. Light is absorbed very quickly in the water, so while on land you might be able to see a single streetlight miles away, after about 800 feet, light largely disappears in the depths of the ocean. I know. I’ve been there.
It’s estimated that nearly 90 percent of the animals living in the open ocean, in waters below 1,500 feet, make their own light. Why they do this is in part a mystery, but scientists are pretty sure they understand the basic reasons animals do it: to eat, to not be eaten, and to mate. In other words, to survive. And to communicate.
Credit: NOAA
The angler fish dangles a lighted lure in front of its face to attract prey. Some squid expel bioluminescent liquid, rather than ink, to confuse their predators. A few shrimp do too. Worms and small crustaceans use bioluminescence to attract mates. When it is attacked, the Atolla jellyfish (Atolla wyvillei) broadcasts a vivid, circular display of bioluminescent light, which scientists believe may be a kind of alarm system. The theory is that the light will attract a larger predator to go after whatever is attacking the jellyfish. While this is still a theory, a 2019 expedition that took the very first images of the giant squid used a fake Atolla jellyfish designed by the scientist Edith Widder to lure the squid into frame. I had the fortune of interviewing Dr. Widder, one of the world’s top experts on bioluminescence, several years ago for the New York Times.
Edith Widder holds a vial of bioluminescent plankton. Credit: Erik Olsen
Making light is clearly beneficial. That’s why, say evolutionary biologists, it appears that bioluminescence has arisen over forty separate times in evolutionary history. The process is called convergent evolution and is the same reason that bats and birds and insects all evolved to fly independently. Clearly, flying confers a major advantage. So does making light.
While the Internet is awash in images of bioluminescent creatures, very often the term is confused with fluorescence (mentioned above). Even reputable science organizations sometimes do this. Bioluminescence is not the same thing as fluorescence. Fluorescence is the emission of light by a substance that has absorbed light or other electromagnetic radiation. Many animals like scorpions and coral fluoresce, meaning that they appear to glow a bright otherworldly color when blue light is shone on them. The key idea here is that the animals are not generating their own light, but rather contain cells that reflect light in fluorescence.
Fluorescent (not bioluminescent) scorpion in Baja California, Mexico. Credit: Erik Olsen
So what about the recent explosion of bioluminescence in Southern California? The light we are seeing is made by tiny organisms, type of plankton called dinoflagellates (Lingulodinium polyedra) that occasionally “bloom” off-shore. Often, this is the result of recent storms that bring tons of nutrient-laden runoff into the ocean. The tiny plankton feed on nitrogen and other nutrients that enter the ocean from rivers and streams and city streets. A lot of the nutrients come from California’s vast farms, specifically the fertilizer used to grow California’s fruits and vegetables. With all that “food” coming into the ocean system, the algae rapidly multiply, creating red tides, or vast patches of ocean that turn dark brownish red, the color of pigment in the algae that helps protect it from sunlight. Michael Latz, a scientist at Scripps Institution of Oceanography at UC San Diego, says that the animals use bioluminescence as a predator avoidance behavior.
Sometimes red tides are toxic and can kill animals and make people sick who swim in the ocean. (That does not appear to be the case in California right now). At night, when they are still, the animals can’t be seen. But when the water is disturbed, which adds oxygen into the mix, a chemical reaction takes place in their bodies that causes luciferin (from the Latin lucifer or ‘light-bearer’) to oxidize and becomes catalyzed to make luciferase, which emits photons or particles of light. It’s not understood exactly how or why this happens, but we do know there are many kids of luciferase. In fact, scientists know the genes that create luciferases and have implanted them into organisms like mice, silkworms, and potatoes so that they glow. They’ve made bioluminescent plants, too. An Idaho-based start up called Light Bio, in fact, sells bioluminescent petunias that you can purchase.
Light Bio’s genetically engineered petunias glow green thanks to DNA added from bioluminescent mushrooms. Photo (Light Bio)
Perhaps the most magical thing about bioluminescence is that it doesn’t create heat. Almost all the lights we are familiar with, particularly incandescent light, like that from generic light bubs, generate a tremendous amount of heat. Of course, we have learned how to make this heatless chemical light ourselves, easily experienced when you crack and shake a glow stick, mixing together several chemicals in a process similar to the one animals in the ocean use to create bioluminescent light. But the light from glow sticks is not nearly strong enough to illuminate your back yard. In the last few decades, we’ve learned how to make another kind of light that produces little heat: LEDs. Though the process is very different, the concept is the same: talking a molecule or a material and promoting it to an excited state. Where electricity is used, in the case of LEDs, it’s called electroluminescence, where it’s a chemical reaction it’s chemiluminescence, of which bioluminescence is one form.
Whether you are a religious person or not (I’m not) it’s no coincidence that one of the first things God said was, “Let there be light!” Light and light energy give us plants and animals to eat, and allows us to see. It heats our world, it fuels our cars (oil is really just dead organic material compressed over time, and that organic material would not have existed without sunlight). While some animals deep in the ocean can live without light, most of us cannot. And it’s a rather astounding feat of nature than when there is no light, many of the earth’s creatures have evolved to produce it themselves. If you don’t believe me, just go down to the Southern California shore in the evening when there is a red tide. Leave your flashlight at home. You won’t need it.
