The Lost Island of Santarosae off California’s Coast

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Imagine a massive island off the coast of California roughly thrice the size of Maui, a lush and wild place where miniature mammoths once roamed and ancient humans hunted in the shadows of towering trees. This island once existed and it’s called Santarosae, and while it is gone now, it was once a thriving ecosystem, teeming with life. Its story provides a captivating window into the ever-changing natural history of the California coast region.

During the last Ice Age, approximately 20,000 to 25,000 years ago, when sea levels were significantly lower, Santarosae Island was a single, expansive landmass that now comprises most of California’s Channel Islands. As the cooler Pleistocene climate transitioned into the warmer Holocene (the epoch we are in now), the Earth’s oceans heated and expanded. Continental ice sheets and glaciers melted, releasing vast amounts of water and causing sea levels to rise dramatically.

At its peak, Santarosae was massive—four of today’s Channel Islands (San Miguel, Santa Rosa, Santa Cruz, and Anacapa) were all connected into a single landmass. It spanned around 1,500 square miles, making it a significant feature of the Pacific coast landscape. Today, only remnants remain in the form of those four separate islands, but evidence of Santarosae’s ancient past continues to reveal itself to scientists.

Map depicting the reconstructed geography of Santarosae.

Anacapa was the first to break away, around 10,300 to 10,900 years ago, as rising waters gradually submerged the narrow isthmus that once connected it to the rest of Santarosae. This slow disintegration of the super island was witnessed by the humans already inhabiting the region. Having arrived between 12,710 and 13,010 years ago, possibly even earlier, these early settlers likely traveled by boat, following the “kelp highway“—a rich, coastal ecosystem of underwater seaweed forests stretching from northern Japan and Kamchatka, along the southern shores of Beringia, down the Pacific Northwest, and into Baja California. For these early explorers, Santarosae would have appeared as a land of abundant resources.

One of the island’s most captivating features was its population of pygmy mammoths, found exclusively on Santarosae. Standing between 4.5 to 7 feet tall at the shoulder and weighing around 2,000 pounds, these miniaturized versions of mainland Columbian mammoths were about the size of a large horse and evolved to suit their isolated island habitat (see our story on the island biogeography of the Channel Islands). The reasons for their dwarfism stem from a phenomenon called island rule, where species on islands often shrink due to limited resources and isolation, as well as a shortage of predators. Despite their smaller size, these island-dwelling mammoths likely shared many characteristics with their larger relatives, including a similar body shape, short fur, and a large head. These mammoths roamed Santarosae until they disappeared around 13,000 years ago, coinciding with both climate changes and the arrival of humans.

Pygmy Mammoth excavation on the Channel Islands (NPS)

The first discovery of “elephant” remains on Santa Rosa Island was reported in 1873. Over time, additional excavations provided insight into the island’s mammoth population, which gradually became smaller over generations, eventually disappearing at the end of the Pleistocene. Notably, paleontological digs conducted on Santa Rosa Island in 1927 and 1928 unearthed the remains of a new species, Mammuthus exilis. In the 1940s and 1950s, Philip Orr of the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History recovered further specimens while conducting archaeological and geological work on the island.

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Most pygmy mammoth remains have been discovered on Santa Rosa and San Miguel Islands, with fewer finds from Santa Cruz Island and even fewer from San Nicolas Island, which lies outside the Channel Islands National Park.

Santarosae was not just a wilderness for megafauna—it was home to some of the earliest known human settlers in North America. Archaeological discoveries, such as the remains of a 13,000-year-old woman unearthed on Santa Rosa Island, point to a sophisticated maritime culture. These ancient humans, likely ancestors of the Chumash people, navigated the waters around Santarosae in plank canoes, hunting seals, birds, and fish, while gathering plants and shellfish.

Archaeologists excavate a anthropological site at the Channel Islands (NPS)

The island provided ample resources, but it wasn’t isolated from the rest of the world. The people of Santarosae were part of a complex trade network that stretched across the California coast. Evidence of these connections can be seen in the tools and materials found on the island, some of which came from distant sources. As sea levels rose, however, these early inhabitants had to adapt to the shrinking island, eventually migrating to the mainland.

Santarosae’s landscape during the Ice Age was strikingly different from what we see on today’s Channel Islands. Dense forests of pines, oaks, and other vegetation covered much of the island, supporting a rich diversity of life. The island’s topography included hills, valleys, and freshwater sources, offering an ideal environment for both humans and animals. As the climate warmed and sea levels rose, the island’s ecology shifted. Forests retreated, and the landscape began to resemble the wind-swept, scrubby terrain seen on the modern Channel Islands.

The rise in sea levels didn’t just transform the landscape; it also altered the ecosystems. Many of the animals, like the pygmy mammoths, couldn’t survive the changing conditions (or human hunters), while new species adapted to the shrinking landmass. Birds, insects, and plant species began to dominate, and the island ecosystems became more specialized.

Today, the remnants of Santarosae offer an invaluable window into the past. The Channel Islands National Park protects much of the area, and researchers continue to uncover clues about the island’s history. Ongoing archaeological digs and ecological studies on the islands help piece together the story of Santarosae’s people, animals, and landscape.

Tourists now enjoy the natural beauty of the Channel Islands (Erik Olsen)

For those who visit the Channel Islands today, it’s hard to imagine the ancient world of Santarosae—a much larger island teeming with life. But the remnants of this lost island still hold secrets waiting to be uncovered, offering a fascinating glimpse into California’s distant past and a reminder of how the forces of nature continually reshape our world.

Though Santarosae is now submerged, its influence is still a significant part of California’s natural history.

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California’s Elephant Seals are the Giants of the Golden Coast

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Once teetering on the brink of extinction, the California elephant seal has made an astounding recovery thanks to stringent conservation efforts. But as you’ll read below, their recovery comes with an asterisk. These remarkable creatures, once hunted for their blubber, now thrive along California’s iconic coastline. With their distinctive trunk-like snouts and massive size (They really are huge. I’ve visited the beach near San Simeon several times to photograph them), elephant seals are an incredible sight.

Elephant seals can be seen along the California coast year-round, but specific times are better for different activities. The peak times to observe them are during their breeding season (December to March) and molting season (April to August). During these times, especially from January to March, beaches are filled with males battling for dominance and females giving birth. Outside these seasons, many seals are out at sea, but some can still be spotted during quieter months.

Even considering the animal’s unique appearance, the elephant seal is not just any ordinary seal. Its eating and mating habits are a riveting blend of deep-sea dives in pursuit of prey and intense beachfront battles for dominance during the breeding season.

The species has two main branches: the northern and southern elephant seal. The ones lolling on the California shores belong to the northern branch. Adult males can weigh as much as 2,300 kg (around 5,000 lbs) and can reach up to 14 feet in length. Females, though smaller, play a pivotal role in the seal’s lifecycle.

Elephant seals are deep-sea aficionados, embarking on two major foraging trips each year. To fuel the intense energy demands of mating season, they dive to impressive depths, often around 1,700 feet (518 m), but have been recorded reaching as deep as 5,015 feet (1,529 m). These long dives, sometimes lasting over an hour, help them hunt squids and fishes while also avoiding predators like great white sharks. Only sperm whales dive deeper and longer, showcasing the elephant seal’s mastery of the deep ocean.

The mating habits of the California elephant seal are a spectacle, a mix between The Biggest Loser and UFC. In wintertime, the beaches teem with activity. The males arrive first, establishing territories and preparing to woo potential mates. Skirmishes between rival males are like mixed martial arts battles between extreme heavyweights (ok, I’ll stop). As they fight for dominance and the right to mate, the elephant seal mating ritual can be quite intense. They engage in ferocious body slam battles, using their massive bodies and long proboscises to assert their strength. These skirmishes, often leading to visible scars and wounds, as well as broken bones, are all for the right to mate. The victor, having established his dominance, can then secure a harem of females, while the less dominant males must wait their turn or go without. This intense ritual underscores the seal’s primal drive to ensure its lineage in the face of fierce competition.

Mating battles between elephant seals can be brutal. Photo: NOAA

A 2023 study published in the Royal Society Open Science showed that the mating battles take their toll on the animals, revealing that males with large harems who fought the most, also lived markedly shorter lives.

By the end of the season, successful males might have a harem of up to 50 females. After the mating rituals, females give birth to pups from the previous year’s mating season. The shores become dotted with adorable seal pups, drawing gawkers and photographers from around the globe.

Elephant seal near San Simeon, California. Photo: National Park Service

To catch a glimpse of these magnificent creatures, the California coastline offers several attractive vantage points. Popular spots include Año Nuevo State Park, Point Reyes National Seashore, and Piedras Blancas near San Simeon. Further offshore, the Channel Islands serve as a remote sanctuary for these seals, away from the bustling mainland. Specifically, San Miguel Island and Santa Rosa Island, both part of the Channel Islands National Park, are known hotspots for elephant seal rookeries. These islands provide remote and undisturbed habitats, making them ideal locations for elephant seals to mate, give birth, and molt.

Elephant seal rookery at Piedras Blancas near San Simeon

The elephant seal, despite its impressive size and strength, is not exempt from the challenges of predation. Great white sharks and orcas, or killer whales, are the primary natural predators of the elephant seal. While younger seals and females are more vulnerable due to their smaller size, even the massive adult males are not entirely safe. Great white sharks tend to target the seals when they’re in deep waters, ambushing them from below. Orcas, on the other hand, have been known to employ strategic hunting techniques to isolate and attack seals, especially near the shorelines. Several rather astonishing videos have been captured of orcas going after elephant seals in the wild.

The threat of these apex predators plays a significant role in shaping the behaviors and migratory patterns of the elephant seal, as they navigate the perilous waters of the Pacific in search of food and safe breeding grounds.

Elephant seals are known to be migratory, traveling thousands of miles across the Pacific. After their foraging trips, they return to their natal beaches to molt, shedding and replacing their fur and the outer layer of their skin.

Elephant seals on the beach at Piedras Blancas near San Simeon. (Erik Olsen)

However, the journey of the California elephant seal hasn’t always been smooth sailing. Over the past 50 years, there have been significant fluctuations in their population. In the late 19th century, they were nearly hunted to extinction for their blubber, which was valuable in oil production. By the end of the 1800s, only a small colony of fewer than 100 seals (some place the number closer to 25) was believed to exist. But here’s where the story takes a hopeful turn. Thanks to robust conservation efforts and protective legislation, their numbers began to rebound. Today, it’s estimated that the population is around 250,000, a testament to what protective measures can achieve. That said, an unknown proportion of elephant seal populations is always at sea, making accurate assessments of total population size is difficult.

Recent research in 2024 reveals a deeper consequence of this near-extinction event. Genetic analyses show that Northern Elephant seals, while rebounding, still bear “genetic scars.” The dramatic population decline going into the 20th century led to the loss of genetic diversity, raising concerns about inbreeding and potential future vulnerabilities to environmental changes or diseases. However, despite reduced diversity, no immediate health issues have been observed in the species.

Given the many other biological and ecological riches of California (this magazine highlights many of them), the elephant seal owns a precious spot in the pantheon of California’s natural wonders. With their unique lifecycle, impressive size, and dramatic beach battles, elephant seals hold a special place alongside the state’s ancient redwoods, vast deserts, and diverse marine life. Their remarkable comeback from near extinction and the key role they play in coastal ecosystems make them a symbol of resilience and the enduring power of nature to regenerate when given the chance.

New Research Sheds Light on the Saber-Toothed Cats of California, Fierce Predators of the Pleistocene

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Around 15,000 to 20,000 years ago, the landscape near present-day Los Angeles was a diverse mix of environments shaped by the end of the Ice Age. Cooler and wetter than today, it was dominated by savannah-like grasslands, wetlands, and patches of dense forests filled with towering oaks and pines. Prehistoric rivers and lakes dotted the landscape, nourishing a rich ecosystem teeming with life. Massive herbivores like mammoths, giant ground sloths, bison, and ancient camels roamed these plains, foraging on abundant grasses and shrubs.

Among these creatures of the Pleistocene Epoch, predators like saber-toothed cats (Smilodon fatalis) ruled, using the cover of forests and brush to ambush their prey. These large cats thrived alongside other carnivores like dire wolves and American lions, each species carving out its niche. However, the landscape was in flux—warming temperatures gradually dried out the environment, increasing the frequency of wildfires and altering the balance of flora and fauna. As human populations expanded and hunted large herbivores, the delicate ecosystem began to unravel, setting the stage for the extinction of many of the region’s iconic megafauna (more on this later).

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Saber-toothed cats are some of the most iconic prehistoric predators to have roamed California. Known for their distinctive long, blade-like canine teeth, these powerful carnivores thrived during a time when much of North America was covered in ice and the landscape teemed with large herbivores. Fossils of these magnificent creatures have been found across the state, with an impressive concentration in the famous La Brea Tar Pits in Los Angeles, revealing a vast amount of details about their biology, natural history, and the world they lived in. In fact, thousands of skeletons are preserved in the Rancho La Brea Tar Pits, making it the largest and most significant site for studying saber-tooth cats and other Pleistocene-era animals.

But first, let’s clear up a few things. The terms “saber-toothed tiger” and “saber-toothed cat” are often used interchangeably, but they refer to different concepts, and the distinction is important for scientific accuracy. “Saber-toothed tiger” is a misnomer because these prehistoric animals were not true tigers, nor were they closely related to them. Instead, they belonged to a now-extinct subfamily of felines called Machairodontinae, with the most famous genus being Smilodon. Modern tigers, on the other hand, belong to the Panthera genus and are part of a completely different evolutionary line. The term “saber-toothed cat” is more accurate because it reflects the broader diversity of species in this group, not just a single “tiger-like” animal. This distinction is crucial because it prevents confusion in understanding the evolutionary history of felines and avoids spreading inaccuracies in the scientific and popular understanding of extinct species.

A great deal of modern research has been conducted on the saber-tooth cat, ranging from genetic studies to isotopic analysis, fossil reconstruction, and insights into their ecological role during the Pleistocene Epoch. In fact, in 2020 researchers from the University of Copenhagen mapped the entire nuclear genome of a sabre-toothed cat known as Homotherium. The genetic study revealed new insights about a socially intelligent pack animal, that specialized in endurance-based hunting over long distances.

The cover of the 1908 October issue of *Sunset* magazine.

When you look at the fossilized skeletons of saber-toothed cats on display at the La Brea Tar Pits, it’s easy to imagine these powerful predators silently stalking their prey through the ancient landscapes, ready to spring with sharp, curved teeth bared and bloody from an earlier meal. Their upper canine teeth were long, sharp, and curved like sabers, often reaching lengths of up to 7 inches (18 cm). Unlike the teeth of modern big cats, which are built for biting and holding prey, the saber teeth were relatively fragile and not ideal for crushing bones. This suggests that these animals had to be precise in how they used their teeth to kill.

Saber toothed cat skull at La Brea Tar Pits (Erik Olsen)

Rather than relying on brute force to clamp down on their prey, saber-toothed cats likely used their teeth to deliver deep, slashing wounds to vulnerable areas, such as the neck, throat, or belly of large herbivores. Some scientists believe that after overpowering their prey with their strong forelimbs, they would deliver a quick, lethal bite, severing major blood vessels or the windpipe. The killing technique of saber-toothed cats was likely specialized for large, slow-moving prey like bison, mammoths, or camels.

Saber-toothed cat (*Smilodon fatalis*). (Indiana State Museum)

This precision style of hunting contrasts with how modern big cats, like lions, use their teeth to bite and hold, crushing the windpipe or suffocating their prey. The saber-toothed cat’s teeth were well-adapted to slicing, but not to the prolonged grip needed for suffocation.

A recent study on saber-toothed cats from paleontologist Jack Tseng of the University of California, Berkeley, reveals that juvenile cats retained their baby teeth alongside their developing adult fangs, likely as a stabilizing mechanism. This double-fanged stage, lasting up to 30 months, helped protect the growing sabers from breaking as young cats learned to hunt. Through computer simulations and mechanical tests, researchers demonstrated that the baby tooth acted as a buttress, reducing the risk of saber damage during this critical learning phase. This finding offers new insights into the hunting development of these prehistoric predators.

The cranium of a *Smilodon* with fully-erupted sabers (Jack Tseng)

Modern research is uncovering potential new insights into the saber-tooth cat’s behavior, including possible hunting techniques, social structures, and interactions with other species. Paleontologists have found fossilized throat bones in Smilodon at the La Brea Tar Pits similar to those in modern big cats like lions and tigers, suggesting that these prehistoric predators may have also roared with powerful vocalizations.

One of the most fascinating debates surrounding Smilodon is whether they hunted alone or in groups. Further fossil evidence from the La Brea Tar Pits suggests that these cats may have lived and hunted in social groups, similar to modern lions. Many Smilodon skeletons show evidence of healed injuries, which has led paleontologists to believe that they may have cared for each other in social settings, allowing injured individuals to recover rather than being abandoned. This level of social cooperation would have been an important adaptation in a world full of dangerous megafauna, enabling them to take down larger prey.

Prehistoric scene with saber-toothed cat.

The extinction of saber-toothed cats, specifically Smilodon, in California has been a subject of extensive research. A study from 2023 published in the prestigious journal Science shows just how quickly the largest animals disappeared from the La Brea fossil record. Scientists from the La Brea Tar Pits, including a University of Oregon professor and postdoctoral researcher, employed a computer model to explore how factors like wildfires, climate change, species loss, and human presence interacted. This revealed a far more intricate explanation for the extinctions than earlier theories, which often pinned the blame on a single factor such as human overhunting or climate shifts. According to the study, humans likely played a pivotal role by driving herbivores to extinction, which in turn led to an overgrowth of vegetation, creating fuel for wildfires. At the same time, the climate was becoming drier, compounding the problem, and leaving carnivores without sufficient prey to survive.

**Sequence of ecological events as recorded at Rancho La Brea, California.** (Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County)

Although most of the existing fossils came from the La Brea Tar Pits in Los Angeles, Smilodon was widely distributed across North America, from coast to coast, reaching as far north as Idaho and Nebraska and extending south into South America. It is most famously associated with California and Florida. The oldest known fossil of Smilodon dates back approximately 500,000 years, while the youngest, discovered during bank construction in Nashville, Tennessee, is just 9,400 years old.

Saber-toothed cat fossil skeleton at La Brea Tar Pits (Erik Olsen)

The La Brea tar pits are a unique and incredibly fruitful outdoor laboratory for understanding animals from 50,000 years of the Pleistocene and the environment in which they lived. Paleontologists have unearthed thousands of Smilodon bones, providing a wealth of information about their anatomy and behavior. The bones show a high rate of injuries, including broken bones and bite marks, which supports the idea that these cats faced significant risks when hunting. In addition to Los Angeles, saber-toothed cat fossils have been found in various parts of California, including San Diego and along the Central Valley, though the La Brea Tar Pits remains the most prolific source.

Imagine that. One of the greatest fossil sites in the world lies amidst the skyscrapers and traffic-clogged streets of Los Angeles. It’s kind of mind-boggling.

Despite their extinction, the legacy of saber-toothed cats endures in the fossil record and in our imagination. Because of it’s ability to capture public interest, ane because the fossil record is so abundant and varied, Smilodon fatalis is now the state fossil of California, symbolizing the state’s rich prehistoric past.

Squid Pro Quo: How the California Market Squid Gives Back to Nature and Economy

California Market Squid. The animal’s skin is covered with thousands of tiny chromatophores that change color and can dramatically transform the squid’s appearance.

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The ocean’s depths are filled with mysterious and fascinating creatures, but few have made quite the splash in both nature and culture as the squid. Sleek, swift, and full of surprises, these little cephalopods are not only culinary favorites but also masters of survival in the ever-changing marine world.

The California market squid, scientifically known as Doryteuthis opalescens, is an integral component of the marine ecosystem and significantly contributes to California’s economy. Although these cephalopods may not captivate public imagination as vividly as their larger, more enigmatic cousins like the giant squid, or even California’s charismatic Two-Spotted Octopus, their role is both ecologically and economically invaluable.

In appearance, Doryteuthis opalescens is a relatively small squid, typically measuring up to a foot in length. It is characterized by its elongated tubular body and mantle. It has a set of eight shorter arms and two longer tentacles, all equipped with suckers for prey capture. The skin of the California market squid contains specialized pigment cells called chromatophores, which allow it to change color in mesmerizing ways. This is not just a display of beauty; the capability is used for camouflage from predators and likely communication with other squids. Their complex eyes are especially remarkable. These structures are highly developed and contain a lens that can focus, similar to the optical system in the human eye, allowing the squid to have keen vision—a trait essential for both hunting and avoiding predators.

The squid’s eyes contain a lens that can focus, similar to the optical system in the human eye, allowing the squid to have keen vision. (Wikipedia)

As for their reproductive habits, the mating and spawning of California market squid generally occur from April to November. The male deposits a spermatophore, or sperm packet, into the female’s mantle cavity. Post-fertilization, the female lays between 200 to 300 eggs, encapsulated in clusters, and attaches them to the substrate on the ocean floor. Neither parent plays a role in the post-fertilization life of these eggs. Both males and females often die shortly after mating, leading to a rather short life span for these creatures, usually between six to nine months.

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The feeding behavior of the California market squid is best described as opportunistic. They primarily consume plankton, small fish, and other marine organisms. This diet situates them in a critical role within the food web, serving as both predator to smaller organisms and prey to larger marine animals. Typically, they inhabit depths less than 300 meters and are more active during nighttime, migrating vertically within the water column to follow prey and avoid predators.

**Squid vessels at night, lights ablaze, looking for market squid in Monterey Bay**. (Photo: *CDFW*)

Economically, the California market squid has an enormous impact. According to reports, it represents the largest fishery in California by volume. In 2022, commercial landings of market squid totaled 147 million pounds and were valued at $88 million, according to the NOAA Fisheries commercial fishing landings database. The fishery for this particular species accounts for nearly 25% of all commercial fishery landings by weight in the state. The significance of the market squid extends to the international sphere, as a considerable portion of the catch is exported to countries in Europe and Asia. In some years, the squid are abundant, but in other years, they are hard to find. Cyclical changes in ocean conditions can change the productivity of California waters and squid populations plummet. In some particularly bad years, the squid fishing industry suffers.

In California, the Fish and Game Commission collaborates with the Department of Fish and Wildlife to actively manage the market squid fishery in line with federal guidelines and the state’s Market Squid Fishery Management Plan.

Changes in climate may end up having a major impact on the squid and the fishery. A 2020 paper from Stanford University published in The American Naturalist, details how climate change has likely ushered the squid north in the Gulf of Alaska, perhaps due to rising ocean temperatures causing the squid to move to more suitable habitats. The study highlights how the squid’s migration could impact local ecosystems, where their presence could alter food chains by competing with or preying on native species like young salmon. This research may predict broader marine species shifts in the future. The squid’s populations are also clearly linked to El Niño cycles.

“As climate change progresses, there are bound to be other species like the California market squid that move to more suitable seas,” Mark Denny, the John B. and Jean De Nault Professor in Marine Science at Hopkins Marine Station and senior author on the paper told Stanford’s Earth Matters Magazine. “Investigating what happens to this squid and the ecosystems around them right now will help researchers predict what could happen to other marine life later.”

As mentioned above, given its economic and ecological relevance, there are stringent regulations and monitoring programs in place to ensure sustainable fishing practices. Seasonal closures of the fishery, especially during peak spawning seasons, and restrictions on the type of fishing gear used are examples of such management strategies. The squid is considered a “smart seafood choice” by NOAA. These measures aim to minimize bycatch and preserve the squid population, thereby sustaining the ecological balance within the marine environment.

However, the agency notes: “Short- and long-term changes in the market squid population are poorly understood, The stock has not been assessed so there are no reliable estimates of the population size and the overfished and overfishing status are unknown.”

Despite being delicious, particularly when fried, the California market squid is far more than just an item on a seafood menu. It is a linchpin species that not only contributes to biodiversity in California, but also holds substantial economic value. Its role in the food web as both predator and prey, as well as its economic impact on both the local and global scales, positions it as a vital species deserving of ongoing scientific study and responsible management.

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Why bringing back California’s kelp is so important

Sea urchins have devastated kelp forests in California.

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Two centuries ago, the waters off the California coast were home to a vibrant ecosystem of plants and animals. Vast forests of kelp provided habitat for thousands of species of fish and invertebrates. Some of these kelp forests were so dense that light hardly penetrated to the seafloor. But now, along much of the coastline, the kelp is all but gone.

The tragedy here goes far beyond species loss and a troubling decline in overall biodiversity in our coastal waters. Kelp are also great at taking up carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and they help reduce acidification of the oceans, essentially cleaning the water and bringing balance to the entire ecosystem.

Kelp off the coast of Anacapa Island in California’s Channel Islands (Photo: Erik Olsen)

But now, that balance is has been disrupted. A recent study says that California’s bull kelp (Nereocytis luetkeana) forests (one of several species that are endemic here) have declined by 93% in just the last five years.

It’s difficult to fathom the scale of this loss, and we are only beginning to understand what it will mean for the overall health of our coastal waters. When the kelp disappears, the entire complex web of organisms that rely on it for habitat and food is disturbed. That is to say, large swaths of the near-shore California coastal ecosystem depend upon kelp.

So, what is happening? Well, first a little history.

A healthy kelp forest in Channel Islands National Park (NPS)

Two centuries ago, when kelp forests along the coast were so abundant they stretched for hundreds of miles with thick canopies that could be seen at the surface. At the time, urchins existed, but their populations were held in check by sea otters, which have been known to eat 1/4 of their body weight in urchins in a day. But unrestrained hunting by trappers (often Russian and British) in the early 1800s and into the mid-century brought sea otter populations down so low, at one point they were considered extinct in the wild. With the otters gone, urchins flourished and along certain stretches of coast, the kelp disappeared. Remember, this was 200 years ago, long before California was even a state.

Otters have come back to certain stretches of the California coast, especially near Monterey, and in some cases, the kelp has come back. And, in fact, even now, some places around the state, things aren’t nearly so bad. One-third of southern California’s kelp forests are found within Channel Islands National Park and Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary, where no-take marine reserves prohibit all take of living, geological, or cultural resources. In the reserve, California sheephead, spiny lobsters, and sunflower stars eat sea urchins and keep their population from exploding.

Bust most other regions are not so lucky. And things have gotten even worse. This is where it gets more complicated.

A diver measures kelp growth (Kate Vylet/California Sea Grant)

An intense ocean warming period between 2014 and 2017 is the likely culprit in causing a mass die-off of starfish. Starfish prey on native purple urchins, keeping their numbers in check. With mass numbers of sea stars dead, the urchins proliferated, eating their way through the kelp forests. The result: disaster.

“What we’re seeing now are millions and millions of purple sea urchins, and they’re eating absolutely everything,” said Laura Rogers-Bennett, an environmental scientist with UC Davis Karen C. Drayer Wildlife Health Center and California Department of Fish and Wildlife operating out of the UC Davis Bodega Marine Laboratory. “They can eat through all the anemones, the sponge, all the kelp, the fleshy red algae. They’re even eating through calcified alga and sand.”

The loss of kelp forests in California should be immediately recognized as a major ecological problem to solve, and while some projects are underway to do just that, much more needs to be done.

Several organizations, most of them California-based, are trying to reduce the number of urchins in Southern California. For example, UC Davis researchers are working with Bay Area shellfish company Urchinomics to explore “ranching urchins, removing them from the seafloor and fattening them up to be sold as sushi. Urchins are highly valued by Japanese consumers and are even sold in some California sushi restaurants. One problem is that purple urchins tend to be too small to harvest for human consumption, hence the need to increase their size via aquaculture. But will this be enough to stop the urchin’s march towards environmental saturation? Probably not.

The Bay Foundation in Santa Monica launched a program to restore kelp beds around 150 acres of urchin barrens along the rocky reefs off Palos Verdes. Scientists, recreational divers, and fishermen go down and smash the urchins with small hammers. The effort has shown promise, with kelp growing back in 46 acres of restored reef. Again, this is not nearly enough.

Kelp forest off Palos Verdes Peninsula (Erik Olsen)

Other strategies are outlined in the Sonoma-Mendocino Bull Kelp Recovery Plan, released last June by the Greater Farallones Association and California Department of Fish and Wildlife. It includes measures such as creating a kelp oasis to preserve seed stock and repopulate bull kelp when conditions are conducive to restoration.

This may all be too little too late. We believe state, local and federal agencies should redouble their efforts now to mitigate the loss of kelp in California waters. The implications for further, perhaps total, loss of California’s once-flourishing kelp forests are just too dire and action is required now. As the authors of the report write “it may take decades before the complex biological communities, associates, and the ecosystem services provided by macroalgal [seaweed] forests rebound.”

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The California Sea Lion’s Story of Survival and Conservation

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Basking under the sun, barking from buoys, and sometimes tormenting boat owners, the California sea lion (Zalophus californianus) is a familiar, playful marine mammal common up and down the coast. Known for their intelligence, dog-like demeanor, and underwater agility, they are a symbol of the Golden State’s rich coastal biodiversity. Despite occasional years of periodic starvation and decline, the California sea lion has made a remarkable recovery over the last two decades and is now one the most common marine mammals seen along the California coast. It’s hard to go out in one of California’s many harbors and not see at least one prowling about, often poking their heads above water to take a loud breath.

California sea lions are part of the family Otariidae, which includes all eared seals. These agile marine mammals are well adapted for life in the ocean, with streamlined bodies, strong flippers, and a layer of blubber to help regulate body temperature. Male sea lions are larger than females, weighing up to 800 pounds (363 kg) and measuring around 8 feet (2.4 meters) in length. Females are slightly smaller, weighing around 250 pounds (113 kg) and measuring about 6 feet (1.8 meters) long. Although many people refer to them as seals, they are a different species, and it is fairly easy to tell them apart. Unlike true seals, sea lions have visible ear flaps and long front flippers that enable them to “walk” on land.

Ranging from the Gulf of California to British Columbia, these marine mammals are a frequent sight around harbors, beaches, and offshore islands. These highly social creatures also congregate in large colonies on rocky shores, such as the Channel Islands off the coast of Southern California. During breeding season, males establish territories and compete fiercely for females, often engaging in vocal displays and physical battles. The females give birth to a single pup each year and provide maternal care for several months until the pup is ready to venture into the water.

California sea lions are opportunistic feeders, primarily preying on fish species such as anchovies, herring, salmon, and squid. With their excellent underwater vision and agile swimming abilities, they can dive to great depths, sometimes reaching over 900 feet (275 meters) to search for their prey. They are capable of consuming significant amounts of food, with adult males consuming up to 5-8% of their body weight each day.

Sea lions on a buoy in Orange County. (Erik Olsen)

Despite their formidable size and agility, California sea lions face predation from their most notorious adversary, the white shark (Carcharodon carcharias). White sharks are highly efficient hunters and occasionally target sea lions, particularly the young as well as inexperienced individuals. While these encounters are relatively rare, they underscore the ongoing struggle for survival that sea lions face in their natural habitat. Because of the resurgence in the sea lion population on the West Coast, white shark populations have also rebounded significantly, with a recent study suggesting that there can be as many as 40 juvenile white sharks just 50 feet from shore at some of the most popular beaches in SoCal. While this rise in the white shark population off California has made many people concerned about the potential for attacks on humans, records show that just 15 people have died by shark attacks in California since the 1950s.

The California sea lion population has experienced both remarkable recoveries and challenging times. In the early 20th century, they faced severe exploitation for their fur, resulting in significant declines in their numbers. However, conservation efforts and legal protection brought about a remarkable turnaround for these marine mammals.

Under the Marine Mammal Protection Act and state regulations, California sea lions are strictly protected, prohibiting hunting and harassment. Additionally, the establishment of marine protected areas and efforts to reduce pollution and fishery interactions have contributed to their recovery. As a result, the population rebounded, with estimates suggesting that there are now around 300,000 individuals along the coast of California.

Sea lions in Newport Beach. Credit Erik Olsen

Despite their resurgence, California sea lions face ongoing challenges, particularly during certain years when large-scale die-offs occur due to starvation. These events are often linked to El Niño weather patterns, which disrupt the marine ecosystem and cause shifts in fish populations. During such periods, the availability of prey may be limited, leading to malnutrition and high mortality rates among sea lion pups.

While California sea lions have made a remarkable recovery, ongoing conservation efforts are crucial to ensuring their long-term survival. Monitoring their populations, protecting their habitats, and addressing climate change impacts are vital steps to safeguarding these charismatic marine mammals. By raising awareness and promoting responsible stewardship of our coastal ecosystems, we can ensure a bright future for the California sea lion and the diverse marine life it represents.

There’s something quietly remarkable about living alongside California sea lions. They slip through the surf with ease, haul out on docks and rocks, and bring a sense of life and motion to the coastline. Like puppies of the sea, they’re curious, playful, and deeply social. But they’re also resilient animals that have weathered challenges and bounced back. Not that threats still don’t exist. But their presence is a reminder of the ocean’s complexity and beauty, and of how lucky we are in California to share our shores with them.

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Saving California’s White Abalone is Part of a Much Bigger Story

The current effort to bring back the white abalone is one of numerous projects underway in California to revive the state’s once-thriving marine environment.

If you grew up in Southern California in the 1970s, there were a few things that defined California: surfing, skateboarding, the Eagles (preferably on the radio while driving down the Pacific Coast Highway) and abalone.

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The abalone was an icon of beach culture, celebrated in poetry and song, a wondrous gift from Mother Nature. Almost every house near the coast had upturned abalone shells on the coffee table or as decorative items in a garden, their opalescent mother-of-pearl interior shells glistening jewel-like beneath the warm California sun. They hung near front doors or in backyards by the half dozen from string or fishing line, acting as wind chimes when the cool breezes blew in from the Pacific. Our air, our light is different than other places.

They once numbered in the millions off the California coast, but now they are endangered. As the Los Angeles Times put it in 2019, “Abalone once were to California what lobster is to Maine and blue crab to Maryland, so plentiful they stacked one on top of another like colorful paving stones.”

But then something terrible happened.

The white abalone (Haliotis sorenseni) fishery, in particular, went out of control. Commercial abalone fishing from 1969–1972 was so lucrative and so unrestrained that the catch went from roughly 143,000 pounds per year to just 5,000 pounds per year in less than a decade. Millions of pounds were harvested by commercial fishermen, and diving for abalone was a common and favored pastime. In 1997, state officials in California ceased all white abalone fishing because population levels had reached perilous lows. By 2001, the numbers of white abalone found along the coast were so low that they became the first marine invertebrate listed as endangered on the Endangered Species Act. But it was too late. The population had declined by almost 99 percent.

It is estimated that around 1,600 individuals remain, and at one point, it was feared the species would go extinct by 2010 without intervention. Currently, there is growing concern that the small populations still surviving in the wild may be highly vulnerable to withering syndrome disease.

California is home to seven species of abalone (red, pink, black, green, white, pinto, and flat), none of them are plentiful any longer in California waters, but it is the white abalone, in particular, that became the most prized for its tender, flavorful flesh. We loved white abalone. And then they were gone.

Despite a fishing ban for over two decades, wild populations of white abalone have not shown signs of recovery. Abalone reproduce through broadcast spawning, where they release their gametes into the water. This method requires a certain population density to be effective, but current wild populations of white abalone are too sparse for successful natural reproduction.

In 2019, scientists at UC Davis’ Bodega Marine Lab in Bodega Bay launched one of the most important species restoration efforts in the history of the state. On November 18, 2019, researchers from the marine lab, in cooperation with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) carefully released thousands of baby white abalone into the waters of Southern California. Biologists measured and marked each one with a unique numbered tag affixed to their shell to distinguish them from wild white abalone (of which there are perilously few). This marked the first release of endangered white abalone into the wild in coastal waters. What’s crazy is that the white abalone that have been bred in the lab constitute the largest population of the slow-moving mollusks in the world. That’s right, there are more white abalone living in captivity than there are in the wild. Until now.

“Early on we knew that this species was really in danger of going extinct and that the only viable alternative to save it was starting a captive breeding program,” said Ian Taniguchi, a biologist with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife (CDFW) who has been involved in white abalone restoration since 1992.

The White Abalone Restoration Program in California has made significant progress in recent years, although challenges remain. The program, now led by a coalition of organizations including NOAA Fisheries, the University of California, Davis, and The Bay Foundation, focuses on restoring the population of this critically endangered species through captive breeding and outplanting efforts.

Currently, the program has successfully bred and outplanted thousands of juvenile white abalone into the wild, particularly along the Southern California coast. These efforts are part of a broader strategy that includes improving spawning techniques, monitoring wild populations, and enhancing habitat conditions. Despite these efforts, white abalone populations in the wild are still vulnerable due to factors like disease, warming waters, and low population densities that hinder natural reproduction.

The program’s ongoing efforts include monitoring environmental conditions that affect abalone habitats, such as oxygen levels and temperature, to optimize outplanting strategies. Additionally, the restoration efforts are expanding, with new techniques and partnerships aimed at increasing the resilience of outplanted populations and ultimately ensuring the species’ survival in the wild

Cultured Abalone Farm (Photo: Jennifer Boyce)

“Early on we knew that this species was really in danger of going extinct and that the only viable alternative to save it was starting a captive breeding program.”
Ian Taniguchi, a biologist with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife (CDFW)

Abalone are far more valuable than merely as a food item. They are keepers of the kelp forest. According to scientists, the abalone eat kelp, but they also clear rocks of any dominant species and thus increase kelp diversity so that multiple kelp species can flourish. When the kelp is healthy and diverse, coastal waters see an explosion of diversity in fish and other animals that depend on kelp forest habitat.

While the success of the abalone recovery program hangs in the balance, its mere existence needs to be recognized as part of a much larger tapestry of species and ecosystem recovery projects currently underway that are aimed at restoring California’s coastal ecosystem to some semblance of what it was centuries ago.

That is, of course, impossible. The numerous written accounts by early California settlers (many of them Spanish) describe plants and animals in such unfathomable abundances, the likes of which we will never be able to return. But we can reclaim some of it. And after decades of witnessing severe declines in fish species, kelp, water quality and coastal habitat, it seems we may be finally turning a corner. Maybe.

Some of the projects underway include bringing back white sea bass, protection of sea lions, whales and dolphins under the Marine Mammal Protection Act, a rise in white shark populations, kelp restoration, and, perhaps the most significant achievement of all, the creation of a vast (and enforced), network of Marine Protected Areas (MPAs).

Alone, each of these efforts is a small step in the right direction in making our seas healthy and fruitful. Together, they represent the most significant set of achievements to reverse the impact of human settlement on the ocean environment in the history of the world. Of course, we are nowhere near done, and the growing (and terrifying) threats from climate change could render all of this moot. Warming seas, the spread of new diseases (and old ones), acidification, all these things together could unravel these accomplishments in mere decades.

There are still many challenges ahead. Recent kelp die-offs in Northern California due to the explosion in purple urchin populations are extremely worrisome. Phenomena like sea star wasting disease and the marine heatwave of 2013-2015 may have wrought permanent change to our marine ecosystem. But the fact that we are now acting so aggressively to apply science and ingenuity to solve the myriad problems we ourselves caused should give us some hope that positive change is possible.

There is no time for rest. If anything now is the time to redouble our efforts to make our oceans cleaner, to help species recover and to restore the lost balance so that future generations can experience the incredible beauty and bounty of the sea.

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The current effort to bring back the white abalone is one of numerous projects underway in California to revive the state’s once-thriving marine environment.

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