California has long been a hub for berry innovation, boasting a rich history of developing countless berry cultivars. While it’s tough to pin down an exact number, the state’s contributions span a wide range of fruits, from strawberries to blackberries to loganberries, raspberries, and even blueberries.
Somewhere in the pantheon of berries, tucked between the familiar blackberry and the enigmatic lingonberry (a Scandinavian staple, just ask the Swedes, or swing by IKEA), you’ll find the boysenberry. With its deep maroon color, plump size, and a flavor that dances between sweet and tart, the boysenberry is a delicious emblem of California’s horticultural creativity. (Who knew we needed yet another berry?) But how did this berry come to be, and what’s the story behind a Southern California amusement park helping to make it famous?
The journey of the boysenberry begins with its namesake, Rudolph Boysen. In the early 1920s, Boysen, a curious California-based farmer and horticulturist, began experimenting with berry plants at his home in Napa, California. His objective? To develop a new hybrid berry that combined the best attributes of the European raspberry, blackberry, American dewberry, and loganberry.
Rudolph Boysen
On relocating to Orange County, he didn’t leave his passion behind; instead, he brought along his precious berry vines, planting them on his in-law’s property in Anaheim, which at that time was a relatively unpopulated expanse dominated by vast orange and lemon groves, interspersed with small farms and ranches.
Between 1921 and 1950, Boysen dedicated his professional life to serving as the Anaheim City Parks superintendent. His persistent efforts bore fruit (ha) in 1923 when his hybrid successfully grafted and flourished. However, while Boysen was successful in creating the berry, he faced challenges in cultivating it on a larger scale. Some years after his initial success, a near-fatal accident sidelined him, and his boysenberry plants began to wither, seemingly destined for obscurity.
Enter Walter Knott, another farmer with an insatiable curiosity and a healthy dose of ambition,. Upon discovering that Boysen had given up his cultivation experiments and sold his property, Knott went in search of the delicious berry. Accompanied by George M. Darrow of the USDA, the duo ventured to Boysen’s former farm. There, amidst an overgrowth of weeds, they discovered a few withering vines clinging to life. Determined to give these vines a new lease on life, they carefully relocated them to Knott’s farm in Buena Park, California. With diligent care and attention, Knott revived these plants, enabling them to thrive and produce fruit once again. As a result, Walter Knott became the pioneering figure in the commercial cultivation of the berry in Southern California. Knott learned about Boysen’s creation and, understanding its potential, sought out the remaining withered vines.
Knott’s Berry Farm
With a blend of horticultural expertise and an entrepreneur’s spirit, Knott not only rescued the dying boysenberry vines but also began cultivating and selling the berries on his own farm, which was located in Buena Park, California.
As the berries grew in popularity, so did Knott’s business. By the 1940s, Knott’s farm had transformed into a bustling destination, offering visitors not just the chance to buy fresh boysenberries and boysenberry products, but also to experience the charm of a recreated ghost town and other attractions. As the business evolved, it gave birth to what is now known as Knott’s Berry Farm, one of the most popular amusement parks in Southern California.
Today, it’s a full-blown amusement park with high-speed roller coasters like GhostRider, a massive wooden coaster, and Silver Bullet, a looping steel ride that twists over the park’s lake. The Timber Mountain Log Ride, one of the park’s most beloved attractions, simulates a journey through a 19th-century logging camp, complete with animatronic lumberjacks and sawmills. It’s a tribute to the massive wooden flumes that loggers once built to move timber from deep in the forest down to the mills and markets. One of the largest of these flumes was at Converse Basin, once home to the biggest contiguous grove of giant sequoias on Earth. That same area became the site of one of the most devastating logging operations in American history, where thousands of ancient sequoias—some millenia old—were cut down in the rush to harvest timber. We did a story about it you can read here. It’s a sobering reminder of how quickly early California’s natural wonders were exploited in the name of progress.
But back to Boysenberries. Let’s finish this one up, shall we?
Biologically, the boysenberry is a testament to the wonders of plant hybridization, showcasing the ability to combine distinct plant species to produce something entirely new. And tasty. The boysenberry isn’t just a product of careful crossbreeding, it’s a classic California story of perseverance, partnership, and a dose of luck. Sunshine helps too. It’s about how a nearly forgotten berry was saved from obscurity by two determined farmers and went on to become a symbol of California itself, thanks in part to the magic of an amusement park.
In 1962, Swiss physicist and deep-sea diving pioneer Hannes Keller embarked on an ambitious and perilous mission to push the boundaries of human endurance and underwater exploration. California, with its dramatic coastline and history of daring maritime ventures, became the setting for this bold effort to make history in diving. Partnered with British diver and journalist Peter Small, Keller aimed to descend inside a specially designed diving bell named Atlantis to an unprecedented depth of 1,000 feet off the coast of Catalina Island. Their plan involved exiting the pressurized diving bell once it reached the ocean floor, a groundbreaking and dangerous procedure that would allow them to perform tasks outside in the extreme depths. What promised to be a historic achievement, however, took a tragic turn.
Keller’s passion for deep-sea diving had recently garnered international attention, fueled by his record-breaking dives and groundbreaking research into advanced breathing gas mixtures. Working alongside Dr. Albert Bühlmann, a renowned physiologist specializing in respiration, Keller employed cutting-edge technology, including an IBM computer, to meticulously design gas formulas that could counteract the dangers of deep diving. Their innovative work addressed the twin challenges of nitrogen narcosis and decompression sickness, promising to revolutionize underwater exploration.
For Keller, diving was initially an unconventional pursuit. He was engaged in teaching mathematics to engineering students in his native town of Winterthur, close to Zurich, and had aspirations to become a pilot. However, the prohibitive cost of flying on a teacher’s salary led him to explore other avenues. Introduced to the burgeoning sport of scuba diving by a friend in the late 1950s, Keller applied his mathematical and scientific acumen to the field. He soon concluded that the existing techniques in deep-sea diving were outdated and ripe for revolutionary advancement.
“If a man could go, for instance, to 1,000 feet down and do practical work,” Mr. Keller wrote in The Sydney Morning Herald, “then all the continental shelf zone could be explored, a total of more than 16 million square miles.”
Keller prepares for his May 1961 chamber dive at the United States Navy Experimental Diving Unit (NEDU). Photo: US Navy
Keller and Bühlmann worked collaboratively to expand their computerized concoction of breathing gases, ultimately selecting a dive site off near Avalon Bay at Catalina Island in Southern California. This location was chosen due to its dramatic underwater geography, where the ocean floor descends sharply from the coast into the deep ocean.
At the time, it was widely believed that no human being could safely dive to depths beyond three hundred feet. That was because, beginning at a depth of one hundred feet, a diver breathing normal air starts to lose his mind due to nitrogen narcosis.
Partnering with Peter Small, co-founder of the British Sub Aqua Club, Hannes Keller planned their historic descent using a specially designed diving bell named Atlantis. This advanced pressurized chamber, deployed from a surface support vessel, was staffed by a skilled technical crew tasked with monitoring gas levels and maintaining constant communication with the divers through a surface-to-bell phone link. The Atlantis diving bell represented a significant leap in underwater technology, providing a controlled environment that allowed divers to venture into previously unreachable depths. Its design and operational success revolutionized the field of deep-sea exploration, offering invaluable insights into human physiology under extreme pressure and laying the groundwork for future advancements in underwater science and technology.
Keller’s experimental dives piqued the interest of the U.S. Navy, as they saw the potential to revolutionize diving safety and practicality. If proven successful, Keller’s methods could transform existing dive tables and enable safer, more practical deep-sea exploration. Encouraged by the promising outcomes of Keller’s preliminary chamber tests and several less extreme open-sea trials, the Navy allowed him to perform a test dive at their primary experimental facility, adjacent to the Washington dive school. They also became a financial supporter of Keller’s ambitious thousand-foot dive.
To carefully scrutinize the operation, the Navy designated Dr. Robert Workman, one of their foremost decompression specialists, to be present on site. A few days after reaching Catalina in late November, Dr. Workman joined Dr. Bühlmann, the rest of Keller’s team, and various onlookers aboard Eureka, an experimental offshore drilling vessel provided by Shell Oil Co. Shell, like other oil and gas enterprises, had a vested interest in innovative techniques that could enhance the productivity of commercial divers. If the dive was successful, the company would receive Keller’s secret air mixture technology and thereby become an instant frontrunner in offshore oil exploration. Their interest was particularly relevant as offshore drilling initiatives were venturing into deeper waters, both off the California shore and in the Gulf of Mexico.
Resembling a huge can of soup, Atlantis stood seven feet tall and had a diameter slightly greater than four feet. Its structure featured an access hatch at the bottom and was adorned with an array of protruding pipes and valves, adding to its industrial appearance.
British journalist Peter Small (BSAC)
As a journalist, Peter Small intended to pen a first-hand narrative of the groundbreaking dive. On December 1, as part of a final preparatory dive, Small and Keller were lowered inside Atlantis to a depth of three hundred feet, where they spent an hour scuba diving outside the bell. During the decompression process within the bell, both divers experienced relatively mild symptoms of decompression sickness, commonly known as the bends. Keller felt the effects in his belly, while Small was afflicted in his right arm. Decompression sickness is still a relatively poorly understood phenomenon, and it remains unpredictable as to which part of the body it might affect.
Keller’s symptoms abated on their own that night, but Small’s discomfort lingered until he underwent recompression treatment. Despite this warning sign, Keller was determined to continue with the dive as planned, without conducting further incremental tests at increasing depths before the ambitious thousand-foot descent. His decision was likely influenced, at least in part, by the assembled crowd of journalists and other spectators eager to witness the historic dive. The constraints of time, finances, and equipment availability added to the pressure, compelling the team to proceed with the experimental dive as scheduled.
The diving bell Atlantis is lifted out of the water after Keller and the journalist Peter Small descended 1,020 feet to the Pacific Ocean floor in December 1962.
On Monday, December 3, around noon, Atlantis began its descent beneath the surface of the Pacific, enclosing its two divers within. The journey towards the ocean floor took under thirty minutes. Upon reaching the target depth of a thousand feet, a series of dark and chaotic moments ensued. Keller exited the bell to plant a Swiss flag and an American flag on the ocean floor. In the process, his breathing hoses became entangled with the flags, and after clambering back inside Atlantis, he lost consciousness.
The gas mixture had somehow become compromised. Peter Small also blacked out, despite never having left the diving bell. As Atlantis was hastily ascended to within two hundred feet of the surface, several support divers swam down to meet the bell. Tragically, one of these support divers, Christopher Whittaker, a young man of just nineteen, disappeared without a trace.
Pacific Ocean off Catalina Island (Erik Olsen)
Keller came to roughly a half-hour after the incident, and Small regained consciousness, but it took nearly two hours for him to do so. Upon awakening, Small engaged Keller in coherent questions about what had transpired. He reported feeling cold and, although he retained the ability to speak, see, and hear, he could not feel his legs. Despite not experiencing any pain, he was too weak to stand. Leaning against his Swiss counterpart, he drifted off to sleep as their decompression within the bell continued.
Several hours later, as Atlantis was being transported back to shore to Long Beach from the dive site near Catalina, Keller discovered that Small had ceased breathing and had no pulse. Desperate to revive him, Keller administered mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and cardiac massage, but to no avail. Small was cold and pallid. The remaining pressure inside the bell, about two atmospheres, was hastily released in a frantic effort to get Small to a hospital after being trapped inside Atlantis for eight hours. Tragically, upon arrival, he was promptly pronounced dead.
The Atlantis diving bell (Paul Tzimoulis)
The Los Angeles County coroner identified the cause of death as decompression sickness. An examination revealed that Small’s tissues and organs were filled with Nitrogen gas bubbles. However, Keller contended that other factors, such as a potential heart attack and the panic Small displayed upon reaching the thousand-foot mark, contributed to the tragedy.
Regardless of the underlying causes, the catastrophic dive to thirty atmospheres and the loss of two lives led to a rapid waning of interest in Keller’s previously sensational methods. The potential for failure of this magnitude had been a concern to many in the deep diving community and the day’s events set back research in the emerging field of saturation diving. Even before this event, saturation diving had only tepid support from the Navy, but this made some people loss faith in the technique. Of course, it would not be the end of saturation diving, not by a long shot.
Hannes Keller in his later years. (Credit: Keller, Esther, Niederglatt, Switzerland)
Modern deep-water diving owes much to the groundbreaking experiments of Hannes Keller. His historic dive to 1,020 feet (311 meters) off Catalina Island was a remarkable achievement that captivated the world. Far from being a mere stunt, as some critics claimed, Keller’s dive was a meticulously planned scientific endeavor designed to push the boundaries of human exploration of the ocean depths. This Swiss adventurer’s pioneering work laid the foundation for advances in deep-sea diving techniques, leaving an enduring legacy in the field.
Christopher Swann, a diving historian, said the dive “was a milepost in the sense that it was the first time something like that had been done.”
Keller ended up living a rich and long life, dying on December 1, 2022, at at a nursing home in Wallisellen, Switzerland, near his home in Niederglatt. He was 88.
In 1975, amidst the California coastal dunes of Asilomar near Monterey, a groundbreaking conference was held that would influence the direction of biotechnology and the course of scientific research for decades to come. This was the Asilomar Conference on Recombinant DNA, an assembly marked by both controversy and consensus. Its aim was not just to debate the scientific merits of a new and potentially groundbreaking technology but also to discuss its potential impacts on society and the environment. (Berg and others had met as Asilomar before in 1973, but that initial meeting resulted in little more than a realization there would have to be more discussion).
DNA
Among the seventy-five participants from sixteen countries were Paul Berg, a Nobel laureate, Maxine Singer, a prominent molecular biologist, and many others, each bringing their own perspective and expertise to the table. They recognized the vast potential that recombinant DNA (rDNA) technology, the process of combining DNA from different species, had to offer but were equally cognizant of the potential risks involved.
Berg was awarded the Nobel Prize in Chemistry for his work on nucleic acids, with a focus on recombinant DNA. Berg had first-hand experience with the transformative potential and risks of the technology. His ground-breaking experiments with recombinant DNA in 1972 and subsequent calls for a moratorium on such work had spurred the idea of the conference.
Maxine Singer, another significant contributor, was known for her advocacy for scientific responsibility and ethical considerations. She played a crucial role in drafting the initial letter to the journal “Science” advocating for a voluntary halt on certain types of rDNA research until its potential risks could be better understood. In 2002, Discover magazine recognized her as one of the 50 most important women in science.
The conference was the outcome of dramatic advances in molecular biology that took place mid-century. In the atomic age of the 1950s and ’60s, biology was not left behind in the wave of transformation. A pioneering blend of structural analysis, biochemical investigation, and informational decoding began to crack open the mystery of classical genetics. Central to this exploration was the realization that genes were crafted from DNA, and that this intricate molecular masterpiece held the blueprints for replication and protein synthesis.
Paul Berg (Photo: Stanford University)
This was a truth beautifully crystallized in the DNA model, a triumph of scientific collaboration that arose from the minds of James Watson, Francis Crick, and the often under-appreciated Rosalind Franklin. Their collective genius propelled a cascade of theoretical breakthroughs that nudged our understanding from mere observation to the brink of manipulation.
The crowning achievement of this era was the advent of recombinant DNA technology – a tool with the potential to rearrange life’s building blocks at our will. As the curtain lifted on this new stage of biological exploration, the promise and peril of our increasing control over life’s code started to unfurl.
Asilomar Conference Building
The ability to manipulate genes marked nothing less than a seismic shift in the realm of genetics. We had deciphered a new language. Now, it was incumbent upon us to assure ourselves and all others that we possessed the requisite responsibility to utilize it.
As Siddhartha Mukherjee put it in his excellent book The Gene: An Intimate History, “There is an illuminated moment in the development of a child when she grasps the recursiveness of language: just as thoughts can be used to generate words, she realizes, words can be used to generate thoughts. Recombinant DNA had made the language of genetics recursive.”
The conference served as a forum to deliberate the safety measures that would be needed to prevent accidental release of genetically modified organisms (GMOs) into the environment, the ethical considerations of manipulating the genetic code, and the potential implications for biological warfare. It was as much about the science as it was about its potential impact on society, mirroring aspects of the Pugwash Conferences that discussed nuclear arms control during the Cold War.
Participants in the First Pugwash Conference in 1957 in Pugwash, Nova Scotia, Canada. Notable figures included Joseph Rotblat, Bertrand Russell, Leo Szilard, Igor Tamm (pugwash.org)
Much like the Pugwash Conferences in Pugwash, Nova Scotia, Canada, brought together scientists from both sides of the Iron Curtain to discuss the implications of nuclear technology, the Asilomar Conference sought to bridge the divide between the proponents and critics of genetic engineering. Just as nuclear technology held the promise of unlimited power and the threat of unparalleled destruction, recombinant DNA offered the allure of potential solutions for numerous diseases and the specter of unforeseen consequences.
Another analogy might be the two-page letter written in August 1939 by Albert Einstein and Leo Szilard to alert President Roosevelt to the alarming possibility of a powerful war weapon in the making. A “new and important source of energy” had been discovered, Einstein wrote, through which “vast amounts of power . . . might be generated.” “This new phenomenon would also lead to the construction of bombs, and it is conceivable . . . that extremely powerful bombs of a new type may thus be constructed. A single bomb of this type, carried by boat and exploded in a port, might very well destroy the whole port.”
The Einstein–Szilard letter
The Asilomar Conference reached a consensus that with proper containment measures, most rDNA experiments could be conducted safely. This resulted in a set of guidelines that differentiated experiments based on their potential biohazards and suggested appropriate containment measures. This framework, later adopted by the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in the United States, provided the bedrock for the safe and ethical use of rDNA technology.
The decisions made at Asilomar had far-reaching implications for both science and society. By promoting a culture of responsibility and precaution, the conference effectively prevented a public backlash against the nascent field of genetic engineering, allowing it to flourish. Moreover, it set a precedent for scientists to take an active role in the ethical and societal implications of their work.
“The most important lesson of Asilomar,” Berg said, “was to demonstrate that scientists were capable of self-governance.” Those accustomed to the “unfettered pursuit of research” would have to learn to fetter themselves.
CRISPR
Today, the spirit of Asilomar lives on in the field of synthetic biology and discussions around emerging technologies such as CRISPR and gene drives. It underscores the importance of scientific self-regulation, public dialogue, and transparent communication in navigating the ethical minefields that technological advancements often present.
The Asilomar Conference was a milestone in scientific history, a demonstration that scientists are not merely the creators of knowledge but also its stewards. It showed that with open dialogue, proactive self-regulation, and a deep sense of responsibility, we can both harness the promise of scientific breakthroughs and mitigate their potential risks.
In the expansive and diverse landscape of California, many iconic animals are an integral part of the state’s reputation for natural beauty and untamed wilderness. Yet, one particular creature looms larger in the Californian narrative than many others – a species that has been extinct for nearly a century, but lives on as a powerful symbol: the California Grizzly Bear (Ursus arctos californicus).
The California Grizzly Bear, a subspecies of the Grizzly Bear, was a formidable presence in the wild terrains of California. This remarkable beast could grow up to 8 feet tall when standing on its hind legs, and adult males often weighed in excess of 2000 pounds. They sported a lustrous fur coat that varied in color from blond to dark brown, making them a striking, and sometimes terrifying, sight in the California wilderness.
The famous California Grizzly “Monarch” was housed in an enclosure at Golden Gate Park around 1910. It passed away the following year. (California State Archives)
The name “Grizzly” could have meant “grizzled,” a term referring to the animal’s golden and grey tips of hair. Or quite possibly it meant “fear-inspiring” (as a phonetic spelling of “grisly”). The naturalist George Ord formally classified it in 1815 as Ursus horribilis (“terrifying bear”).
This giant was an omnivore with a varied diet that changed with the seasons. The bear’s dietary staples included seeds, berries, roots, fish, and small mammals. But the California Grizzly was also known to take down larger prey, such as deer and elk, when the opportunity presented itself. The first recorded encounters with California grizzly bears are found in diaries kept by several members of the 1769 Portola expedition, the first European land exploration of the southern stretch of the West Coast. Several place names that include the Spanish word for bear (oso) trace their origins back to that first overland expedition. For example, the city of Los Osos.
Stories about the California Grizzly Bear echo throughout the annals of California’s history and literature. In his book “The Mountains of California,” renowned naturalist John Muir recounted his encounters with these awe-inspiring creatures, stating, “When I discovered him, he was standing in a narrow strip of meadow, and I was concealed behind a tree on the side of it.”
California State Flag featuring the California Grizzly
As enduring as any mountain or redwood forest, the legacy of the California Grizzly Bear persists in the emblem of the state flag.
The inclusion of the grizzly bear on the California flag traces its roots back to a revolt in 1846, before California was a part of the United States. At the time, California was under Mexican rule and a group of American settlers staged a revolt known as the Bear Flag Revolt, in which they declared California to be an independent republic.
The settlers needed a flag to represent their new republic, so they designed a simple flag that included a grizzly bear, a single red star (inspired by the lone star of Texas), and the words “California Republic.” The grizzly bear was chosen because it was seen as a powerful and formidable creature, much like the settlers saw themselves. It was intended to represent strength, unyielding resistance, and independence. The republic was short-lived, however, because soon after the Bear Flag was raised, the U.S. military began occupying California, which went on to join the union in 1850.
The man who drew the bear on the original flag, William L. Todd, was a cousin of Mary Todd Lincoln, the wife of Abraham Lincoln. Unfortunately, Todd was not a great artist, and his bear looked more like a pig, which led to some ridicule and a new design.
The original California state flag, as designed by William L. Todd
In 1911, the design of the flag was standardized, and the grizzly bear became the central figure that we recognize today. The bear depicted on the flag is named “Monarch” after the last California grizzly bear captured and held in captivity. Monarch was captured in 1889 by newspaper reporter Allan Kelly, at the behest of William Randolph Hearst. Monarch’s remaining life was not pleasant. He spent his remaining 22 years in captivity, and was moved to Woodwards Gardens in San Francisco, and then to the zoo at Golden Gate Park. After the bear’s death in 1911, it was mounted and preserved (ahem, poorly) at the Academy of Sciences at Golden Gate Park.
Monarch on display. (Wikipedia)
Despite its iconic status, the California Grizzly Bear could not withstand the pressures of expanding human civilization. The arrival of settlers during the California Gold Rush in the mid-19th century marked the beginning of the end for the bear. As the human population exploded, the bears’ natural habitats were destroyed to make way for towns and agriculture. Additionally, the bear, seen as a threat to livestock and a danger to humans, was hunted extensively.
By the early 20th century, the California Grizzly Bear was on the brink of extinction. The last confirmed sighting of a California grizzly bear occurred in 1924 within Sequoia National Park. This marked the end of the species’ presence in the state, following decades of hunting and habitat loss. Prior to this, the last known grizzly in Southern California was killed in 1916 near Sunland, in the San Fernando Valley. The California grizzly, once abundant throughout the region, was declared extinct in the wild by the mid-1920s. The California Grizzly was declared extinct in 1924.
In recent years, discussions have emerged about the feasibility of reintroducing grizzly bears to California. Research indicates that the state possesses substantial suitable habitat for grizzlies, particularly in the Sierra Nevada and other mountainous regions. Some studies suggest that California could support a population of approximately 500 grizzly bears.
In 2014, the Center for Biological Diversity filed a legal petition urging the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to expand grizzly bear recovery efforts across the American West, including California. The petition identified 110,000 square miles of potential grizzly habitat in areas such as the Sierra Nevada. However, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service rejected this petition, citing concerns about habitat suitability and potential human-bear conflicts.
The following year, in 2015, the Center for Biological Diversity initiated a petition directed at the California state legislature to reintroduce grizzly bears to the state. This effort aimed to raise public awareness and encourage state officials to explore the possibility of reintroduction. Despite these initiatives, the California Department of Fish and Wildlife has expressed reservations, emphasizing the significant changes in the state’s landscape and human population density since the grizzly’s extirpation. Officials have highlighted the potential challenges of human-bear interactions, given California’s current population of nearly 40 million people.
The debate over reintroducing grizzly bears to California continues, balancing ecological restoration goals with concerns about human safety and land use. While the state retains areas that could potentially support grizzlies, the complexities of modern coexistence present significant challenges to reintroduction efforts.
Amid the barren, high-altitude desert of California’s White Mountains, the Bristlecone Pines stand as enduring sentinels, their gnarled forms chronicling millennia of survival in one of the planet’s most unforgiving landscapes. For thousands of years, these ancient organisms have endured drought, freezing temperatures, and brutal winds. Each twisted trunk and weathered branch tells a story of resilience. Yet in a bitter twist, one of the oldest among them, a tree known as Prometheus that once grew in the nearby Great Basin National Park, met its end not from the slow violence of nature but from a single human decision. And it wasn’t the result of malice or careless destruction, like the foolish vandals who felled the U2 Joshua Tree. It was a mistake, made in the name of science.
The Prometheus stump. All that is left of one of the oldest organisms on Earth.
Prometheus, named after the Titan who defied the gods in Greek mythology, was an extraordinary specimen of the Pinus longaeva species, or the Great Basin Bristlecone Pine. It is believed to have germinated around the time of the Bronze Age, making it likely older than the Great Pyramids of Giza. By the 1960s, when its existence was noted by researchers, it was already around 4900 years old. Unfortunately, that’s when tragedy struck.
In 1964, a young geographer named Donald Rusk Currey was studying climate dynamics of the Little Ice Age. He was especially drawn to Bristlecone pines because their rings hold valuable records of past climate conditions, a core focus of dendrochronology, the study of tree rings, which continues to be an important scientific tool today. Some details of the story vary, but Currey had supposedly been coring several trees in the area to measure their age, but he encountered difficulties with Prometheus. He was unaware that the tree was not only ancient, but likely the oldest non-clonal organism on the planet. The coring tool broke, and unable to get the data he needed, Currey believed that cutting down the tree was the only way to continue his research. The Forest Service, unaware of the tree’s significance, approved the request.
And so he cut it down.
Bristlecone forest in the White Mountains of California (Erik Olsen)
Once Prometheus was cut down, its extraordinary age became clear. By counting its growth rings, Currey estimated that Prometheus was at least 4,844 years old, making it the oldest known tree in the world at the time. A few years later, this age was increased to 4,862 by Donald Graybill of the University of Arizona‘s Laboratory of Tree-Ring Research.
The scientific community and general public were outraged at the unnecessary loss, sparking conversations about the protection of these ancient trees. In the words of one writer-activist, Currey had “casually killed (yes, murdered!)” the world’s oldest tree. As if a curse had been unleashed, a year after Prometheus was cut down, a young Forest Service employee died of a heart attack while trying to remove a slab from the tree. Currey was obviously beside himself. Whoops.
Whether Prometheus should be considered the oldest organism ever known depends on how we define “oldest” and “organism.” Some clonal species may claim even more ancient origins when we consider the entire genetic individual rather than a single stem or trunk. The creosote bush ring known as King Clone, located in the Mojave Desert in California, is estimated to be nearly 12,000 years old. Similarly, the massive aspen colony known as Pando in Utah spans over 100 acres and may be more than 14,000 years old. Unlike Prometheus, which was a single, ancient tree, these clonal colonies persist by continuously regenerating themselves, allowing the larger organism to survive for tens of thousands of years.
Creosote growing in the Mojave Desert (Photo: Erik Olsen)
Prometheus’s death brought global attention to the incredible age and ecological value of Bristlecone Pines, sparking a deeper appreciation for their role in Earth’s history. In the years since, increased protections have been put in place to preserve these ancient trees. Today, they are part of the Inyo National Forest’s Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, a protected area in the White Mountains that draws scientists and visitors from around the world.
California is home to the oldest, tallest, and largest trees on the planet, not just the ancient Bristlecone Pines, but also the sky-scraping coast redwoods and the enormous giant sequoias. It’s also the most biodiverse state in the U.S., making it one of the most ecologically exceptional places on Earth.
Even as we mourn Prometheus, it’s important to remember that it is not the end of the story for the Bristlecone Pines. There are still many of these ancient trees alive today. One of them, named Methuselah, is known to be 4,851 years old and is often considered the oldest living tree in the world. While it is known to live somewhere in the White Mountains of California, its exact location is kept a secret to protect it. The tree’s name refers to the biblical patriarch Methuselah, who ostensibly lived to 969 years of age.
There’s also the potential for even older specimens. Given the harsh, remote habitats these trees often occupy, it is likely that there are older Bristlecones yet to be discovered.
California’s White Mountains (Photo: Erik Olsen)
The cutting of Prometheus was a mistake, an irreversible loss. But its story became a turning point, highlighting the need to treat ancient and rare life with more care. While Prometheus is gone, many other long-lived and fragile organisms still exist. Its fate is a reminder that our curiosity should always be balanced by a responsibility to protect what can’t be replaced.
Today, a cross-section of Prometheus is on display at the Great Basin National Park visitor center in Nevada, as well as the U.S. Forest Service’s Institute of Forest Genetics in Placerville, California. The tree’s thousands of growth rings are a reminder of its incredible longevity and a sobering memory of the tree that had survived for millennia. The region’s diverse landscapes are home to an incredible abundance of life, from ancient trees to unique coastal ecosystems. Protecting and understanding these natural treasures ensures they remain for future generations to study, appreciate, and enjoy.
California is known for its sunny beaches, bustling cities, and iconic landmarks such as the Golden Gate Bridge and Hollywood sign. However, the state is also home to a wealth of scientific discoveries and phenomena that are not as well-known. From ancient fossils to cutting-edge research, California has a lot to offer in the realm of science. In this list, we’ll explore ten of the most fascinating scientific things that you probably didn’t know about California. Get ready to be amazed by the natural wonders and innovative research that make this state such a unique and exciting place for science enthusiasts.
California is home to the tallest tree in the world, a coastal redwood named Hyperion that measures 379.7 feet (115.7 meters) in height. The state is also home to the largest (by volume) tree, named General Sherman in Sequoia National Park. General Sherman is 274.9 feet high and has a diameter at its base of 36 feet, giving it a circumference of 113 feet. General Sherman’s estimated volume is around 52,508 cubic feet (1,487 cubic meters), which would correspond to an estimated weight of around 2.7 million pounds.
The Salton Sea, a large inland lake in southern California, is actually an accidental body of water that was created by a flood in 1905 when Colorado River floodwater breached an irrigation canal being constructed in the Imperial Valley and flowed into the Salton Sink.
TheSan Andreas Fault, the state’s best-known and most dangerous fault that runs through the middle of California and to the coast, moves about 2 inches (5 centimeters) per year (or, so they say, the speed that a fingernail grows).
The state of California has more national parks than any other state in the US, with nine in total. Among them is one of the crown jewels of the National Park system: Yosemite National Park.
California is one of the only places in the world where you can find naturally occurring asphalt, at the La Brea Tar Pits in Los Angeles.
The oldest living organism on Earth, a bristlecone pine tree named Methuselah, can be found in the White Mountains of California and is over 4,800 years old.
TheMonterey Bay Aquarium in Monterey, California was the first aquarium to successfully keep a great white shark in captivity for more than 16 days. The first great white that the aquarium tried to display died after 11 days in 1984 because it would not eat.
The Joshua Tree, a type of yucca plant (NOT a tree) found in the Mojave Desert, is named after the biblical figure Joshua because of its outstretched branches that resemble a person reaching up to the sky in prayer.
The California grizzly bear, which appears on the state flag, went extinct in the early 1900s due to hunting and habitat loss. The last California grizzly was seen near Yosemite in 1924, going extinct after decades of hunting. Fossils of the California grizzly can be seen at the La Brea tar Pits.
The California Institute of Technology, also known as Caltech, is one of the world’s leading scientific research institutions and has produced 39 Nobel laureates, more than any other university in the world.
A Pacific White-Sided Dolphin swims alongside a boat off Newport Beach, California
For those who are fortunate enough to live near the coast of California, Dolphin sightings are a frequent delight. Dolphins are a diverse group of marine mammals found in all of the world’s oceans, but they are especially abundant in California. The California coast is home to numerous species of dolphins, each with their own unique characteristics and behaviors. An afternoon spent at the beach will very often result in a sighting of these magnificent and majestic animals frolicking in the waves.
For those who may not know, dolphins and porpoises are toothed whales. Both porpoises and dolphins are members of the same scientific order, Cetacea, which includes all whales, including the magnificent blues, grey whales and humpbacks that also ply the California coast.
The exact number of dolphins off the California coast is impossible to know since many species migrate and no authoritative study of their total numbers has ever been published. But one estimate of the dolphin population in Southern California suggests that well over half a million live between the frigid, rocky coastal waters of Monterey and San Diego. Scientists have documented 11 species of dolphins in California’s waters alone. We take a look at a few of those here.
One of the most common, and beautiful, dolphins found off the coast of California is the Pacific White-Sided Dolphin (Lagenorhyncus obliquidens). These dolphins are easily recognized by their distinctive markings, which include a white underbelly and gray and white stripes along the sides. White-Sided Dolphins can reach up to 400 pounds and can grow to 8 feet in length, with males typically being larger than females. They are also known for their energetic and playful behavior, often bow-riding the waves alongside boats and performing wonderful acrobatics in the air. Boaters and whale watchers can witness pods of these animals following their boat for half an hour or more, often swimming on their sides near the surface and gazing up with attentive eyes.
White-sided dolphins feed on a variety of prey, but mostly consume fish and squid. They are skilled hunters and have been known to work together in groups to corral and capture their meals.
Another species found off the California coast is the Common Dolphin (Delphinus delphis). These dolphins have a distinctive sleek, hydrodynamic shape, with a dark gray or black dorsal region and a light gray or white underbelly. Common Dolphins are also known for their high level of activity, often seen jumping and playing in the water. Common dolphins can travel 100 miles in a single day.
This species is one of the most well-known and widely distributed marine mammals, and is often associated with playful acrobatics and a high level of intelligence. California is home to several large “super pods” or “megapods” of Common Dolphins that are often seen by boaters or whale-watching tours. As the American Cetacean Society explains, common dolphins typically travel and hunt in large herds of hundreds or even thousands. One resident megapod frequently forages between Ventura and Dana Point.
A Pacific White-Sided Dolphin
Common dolphins have been the subject of numerous studies examining their cognitive abilities. They are known to have complex social relationships and to exhibit behaviors that suggest a high level of problem-solving ability and adaptability. In addition, they are capable of using tools, such as seaweed, to herd fish and protect themselves from predators. They also have excellent memories and are able to recognize individual dolphins and remember past experiences.
The Bottlenose Dolphin (Tursiops truncatus) is another species that can be found off the coast of California. This species is easily recognizable due to its large size and beak-like snout. Bottlenose Dolphins are known for their intelligence and playful nature, and are often (unfortunately) used in marine mammal shows and research programs.
Bottlenose dolphins have a complex mating system that involves a variety of behaviors, including courtship displays, vocalizations, and physical contact. Female Bottlenose dolphins give birth to a single calf every three to five years, and the calves are nursed by their mothers for up to a year. Male Bottlenose dolphins compete for access to females, and the strongest and most dominant males are the most successful at mating.
A lesser-known (and seen) species found in the waters of California is the Risso’s Dolphin (Grampus griseus). These dolphins are identified by their tall, curved, sickle-shaped dorsal fin located mid-way down their back. Often they also have distinctive scars and scratches, which are believed to be caused by “teeth raking” between other dolphins. They also frequently have circular markings, likely from encounters with squid or lampreys. Risso’s Dolphins are generally less active than the other species found in the area, and are often seen alone or in small groups.
Finally, the Dall’s Porpoise (Phocoenoides dalli) is another species that can be found in the waters off the California coast. These dolphins are identified by their short, stocky bodies and small triangular dorsal fins. Dall’s Porpoises are known for their speed and agility, and are often seen riding the bow waves of boats.
Few places on earth match the coast of California for the sheer number and variety of dolphins that swim in the cool, nutrient-rich waters that well up from the state’s deep canyons. So next time you’re near the coast, keep an eye out for these incredible creatures and enjoy the show!
