Long Valley Caldera Discover the Science and Beauty of California’s Ancient Supervolcano

The Legacy of One of North America’s Largest Volcanic Eruptions

The Long Valley Caldera is one of the most active volcanic sites in the United States.
Here, the Owens River flows through it, winding south through Owens Valley. (Erik Olsen)

Driving up Highway 395 toward Mammoth Lakes is one of the most breathtaking road trips in California. The highway winds through the rugged Eastern Sierra, offering stunning views of snow-capped peaks, alpine meadows, and vast chaparral plains. But beneath this dramatic landscape lurks a hidden danger—an ancient volcanic giant that still stirs beneath the surface.

The Long Valley Caldera in eastern California is an extraordinary geological feature, spanning about 20 miles in length and 11 miles in width. It owes its existence to one of the most dramatic volcanic events in Earth’s history, a supereruption that occurred approximately 760,000 years ago. This event, known as the Bishop Tuff eruption, ejected an estimated 150 cubic miles of molten rock and ash into the atmosphere, far surpassing the 1980 eruption of Mount St. Helens, which released just 0.3 cubic miles of material. The magnitude of the Bishop Tuff eruption resulted in the collapse of the ground above the magma chamber, creating a massive depression known as a caldera. In other words, it’s hard to get your head around how big this eruption was.

The Long Valley Caldera is a striking reminder of Earth’s immense, often hidden, volcanic power and its potential for destruction—located right here in California, near one of the nation’s most popular ski towns, Mammoth Lakes. Geothermal activity, visible in the form of hot springs, fumaroles, and hydrothermal systems, is a constant feature of the landscape. This activity has made the caldera a hub for geothermal energy production, with the Casa Diablo thermal power plant utilizing its subterranean heat to generate electricity. The energy produced at Casa Diablo is enough to power about 36,000 homes, making it an important renewable energy source for the region.

Casa Diablo Geothermal Facility, Long Valley Caldera, California (Erik Olsen)
Casa Diablo Geothermal Facility, Long Valley Caldera, California (Erik Olsen)

The surface of the caldera is also marked by the Bishop Tuff, a layer of welded volcanic ash that provides a vivid record of the eruption’s intensity and the pyroclastic flows that reshaped the landscape. Pyroclastic flows are fast-moving, hot clouds of gas and volcanic material that can destroy everything in their path. Often they are considered more dangerous than the lava that pours forth from an erupting volcano. For example, pyroclastic flows killed far more people at Pompeii than lava, as the 79 AD eruption of Mount Vesuvius unleashed fast-moving clouds of superheated gas, ash, and volcanic debris that raced down the slopes at over 100 mph, reaching temperatures above 1,000°F, instantly asphyxiating and incinerating thousands, while the slower-moving lava played a minimal role in fatalities.

Geothermal features at the Long Valley Caldera commonly support microbial communities of thermophilic bacteria and algae, which thrive in the caldera’s hot springs and fumaroles. These organisms not only influence the terrain by contributing to mineral precipitation but also serve as models for studying life in extreme environments, offering analogs for early Earth and potential extraterrestrial ecosystems. Scientists are just beginning to understand how these bacteria live and thrive in deep ocean vent systems. In some areas around the Long Valley Caldera and Mono Lake, mats of thermophilic bacteria and algae thrive around the geothermal features, like the many hot tubs that dot the landscape, forming colorful, textured surfaces. These microbial communities contribute to the unique environment and can even make the ground feel crunchy underfoot, offering a tangible connection to the caldera’s dynamic, living systems.

The Owens River flows through the Long Valley Caldera near Mammoth Lakes, California (Erik Olsen)

While the caldera’s formation was sudden and catastrophic, its story stretches back millions of years. Scientific studies at the Long Valley Caldera have advanced our understanding of volcanic processes, crustal dynamics, and geothermal systems. The Long Valley Caldera sits within the Basin and Range Province, an area of North America characterized by extensional tectonics, where the Earth’s crust is being pulled apart, allowing magma to rise to the surface.

Using seismic tomography, researchers have mapped the magma chamber beneath the caldera, revealing a layered structure with a partially molten zone capped by solidified magma. This configuration, as highlighted in a 2023 study published in Science Advances, helps explain the periodic episodes of unrest observed in the caldera and provides a basis for assessing potential future activity. Before the eruption, the region experienced significant volcanic activity, with lava flows and smaller eruptions setting the stage for what was to come. Even after the formation of the caldera, volcanic activity continued in the area. Rhyolitic lava flows emerged within the caldera, and the nearby Mono-Inyo Craters volcanic chain has seen eruptions as recently as 600 years ago, underscoring the region’s enduring geological vitality.

Horseshoe Lake in the Mammoth Lakes area, where underground carbon dioxide emissions have caused widespread tree die-off
(Photo: Erik Olsen)

Another place where the region’s volcanic activity can be experienced firsthand is Horseshoe Lake, where carbon dioxide continuously seeps from the ground, suffocating tree roots and causing a vast die-off of trees. The result is a barren, almost ghostly landscape of skeletal trunks and lifeless ground, a stark reminder that Long Valley’s volcanic system is still active beneath the surface. The area is not just eerie but also hazardous—high concentrations of CO₂ can accumulate in low-lying areas, posing a serious risk to humans and animals. Signs around the site warn visitors of the danger, as pockets of odorless, colorless gas can be lethal if inhaled in high enough doses.

Hot Springs geological site near Mammoth Lakes, California. (Erik Olsen)

The caldera has not been entirely quiet since its dramatic birth. Ground deformation studies, using GPS and InSAR technology (satellites), have tracked uplift in the caldera’s floor, offering critical data on magma movement and hydrothermal activity. In a 2016 study published in Geophysical Research Letters, researchers linked changes in uplift patterns to deeper magmatic processes, reinforcing the importance of continuous monitoring. In 1980, a series of magnitude 6 earthquakes occurred along its southern margin, drawing the attention of volcanologists from USGS. These earthquakes were accompanied by noticeable uplift in the caldera’s floor, a sign of magma movement beneath the surface. Since then, the region has experienced periodic episodes of ground deformation and seismic activity, reminding scientists that the volcanic system beneath Long Valley is far from dormant.

Recent research has provided valuable insights into the caldera’s potential for future activity. While there is currently no indication of an imminent eruption, the area is closely monitored by the United States Geological Survey (USGS). This surveillance includes the measurement of ground deformation, gas emissions, and seismic activity, all of which serve as indicators of changes within the magma chamber. The 1980s unrest heightened awareness of the need for vigilance, particularly in regions where volcanic hazards could affect human populations.

Mono Lake is home to thermophilic (heat-loving) and extremophilic (extreme-condition-loving) bacteria. These microorganisms thrive in the lake’s unusual environment, characterized by high alkalinity, high salinity, and elevated levels of carbonate. (Erik Olsen)

As a result of these studies, the town of Mammoth Lakes took proactive measures to ensure public safety. Local authorities constructed an emergency evacuation route to serve as an escape in the event of a volcanic eruption or other natural disaster stemming from the Long Valley Caldera. After local businesses and residents expressed concerns that the original name implied danger, it was changed to Mammoth Scenic Loop to emphasize the area’s beauty and appeal. The United States Geological Survey (USGS) also intensified its monitoring efforts, implementing a color-coded alert system to communicate volcanic activity risks.

Beyond its scientific significance, the Long Valley Caldera is a destination for outdoor enthusiasts and other researchers. Numerous hot springs dot the landscape and are immensely popular among tourists and residents. Mammoth Lakes is one of California’s top recreational spots, providing amazing opportunities to hike and fish during the summer and excellent skiing in the winter months. For geologists, the caldera serves as a natural laboratory, providing an opportunity to study volcanic processes in a setting shaped by one of the most powerful eruptions in recent geological history.

The eastern Sierra reflected in Little Alkali Lake near the Long Valley Caldera (Erik Olsen)

Of course, there remain certain dangers to all this volcanic activity. On April 6, 2006, three members of the Mammoth Mountain ski patrol tragically lost their lives after falling into a volcanic fumarole near the summit. The incident happened while they were conducting safety operations to secure a snow-covered geothermal vent following an unprecedented snowfall. If you’ve ever skied Mammoth before, there is a distinct sulphurous smell around the Christmas Bowl ski run at Chair 3 near McCoy Station.

Steam from an active fumarole near McCoy Station on Mammoth Mountain in 2012. (Flickr)

Standing at the center of the Long Valley Caldera, surrounded by the remnants of a prehistoric supereruption, offers a profound sense of scale and wonder. The vastness of the caldera, framed by the Sierra Nevada and dotted with geothermal vents, creates a landscape that feels alive yet ancient. It’s amazing place to be, both during the day and at night when the stars spread out across the gaping Sierra sky. The ground beneath your feet, shaped by cataclysmic forces, whispers of Earth’s power and the quiet persistence of geological time. Yet beneath the surface, the processes that shaped it continue to evolve, as magma slowly shifts and geothermal systems release heat from the planet’s interior. As research continues and technology advances, the Long Valley Caldera will undoubtedly yield further insights into the intricate workings of our planet’s volcanic systems.

A Deep Dive into Monterey Canyon, California’s Great Abyss


Monterey Canyon stretches nearly 95 miles out to sea, plunging over 11,800 feet into the depths—one of the largest submarine canyons on the Pacific Coast, hidden beneath the waves. (Courtesy: Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute MBARI)

Standing at Moss Landing, a quaint coastal town known for its fishing heritage, bustling harbor, and the iconic twin smokestacks of its power plant, you might never guess that a massive geological feature lies hidden beneath the waves. From this unassuming spot on the California coast, Monterey Canyon stretches into the depths, a colossal submarine landscape that rivals the grandeur of the Grand Canyon itself.

Monterey Canyon, often called the Grand Canyon of the Pacific, is one of the largest and most fascinating submarine canyons in the world. Stretching over 95 miles from the coast of Monterey, California, and plunging to depths exceeding 3,600 meters (11,800 feet), this underwater marvel rivals its terrestrial counterpart in size and grandeur. Beneath the surface of Monterey Bay, the canyon is a hotspot of geological, biological, and scientific exploration, offering a window into Earth’s dynamic processes and the mysterious ecosystems of the deep sea.

Drifting through the depths of Monterey Canyon, the elusive barreleye fish reveals its transparent head and tubular eyes—an evolutionary marvel perfectly adapted to the dark, mysterious waters off Monterey Bay.
(Courtesy: Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute MBARI)

Monterey Canyon owes its impressive scale and structure to the patient yet powerful forces of geological time. Formed over millions of years, Monterey Canyon has been shaped by a range of geological processes. One prevailing theory is that the canyon began as a river channel carved by the ancestral Salinas River, which carried sediments from the ancient Sierra Nevada to the ocean. As sea levels fluctuated during ice ages, the river extended further offshore, deepening the canyon through erosion. Another hypothesis points to tectonic activity along the Pacific Plate as a significant factor, creating fault lines and uplifting areas around the canyon while subsidence allowed sediment to accumulate and flow into the deep. These forces, combined with powerful turbidity currents—underwater landslides of sediment-laden water—worked in tandem to sculpt the dramatic contours we see today. Together, one or several of these processes forged one of Earth’s most dramatic underwater landscapes.

While the geology is awe-inspiring, the biology of Monterey Canyon makes it a living laboratory for scientists. The canyon is teeming with life, from surface waters to its darkest depths. Near the top, kelp forests and sandy seafloors support a wide variety of fish, crabs, and sea otters, while the midwater region, known as the “twilight zone,” is home to bioluminescent organisms like lanternfish and vampire squid that generate light for survival. Lanternfish, for example, employ bioluminescence to attract prey and confuse predators, while vampire squid use light-producing organs to startle threats or escape unnoticed into the depths. In the canyon’s deepest reaches, strange and hardy creatures thrive in extreme conditions, including the ghostly-looking Pacific hagfish, the bizarre gulper eel, and communities of tube worms sustained by chemical energy from cold seeps.

A vampire squid (Vampyroteuthis infernalis) observed by MBARI’s remotely
operated vehicle (ROV) Tiburon in the outer Monterey Canyon at a depth of approximately
770 meters. (Courtesy: Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute MBARI)

The barreleye fish, captured in stunning video footage by MBARI, is one of the canyon’s most fascinating inhabitants. This deep-sea fish is known for its’ domed transparent head, which allows it to rotate its upward-facing eyes to track prey and avoid predators in the dimly lit depths. Its unique adaptations highlight the remarkable ingenuity of life in the deep ocean. Countless deep-sea creatures possess astonishing adaptations and behaviors that continue to amaze scientists and inspire awe. Only in recent decades have we gained the technology to explore the depths and begin to uncover their mysteries.

The canyon’s rich biodiversity thrives on upwelling currents that draw cold, nutrient-rich water to the surface, triggering plankton blooms that sustain a complex food web. This process is vital in California waters, where it supports an astonishing array of marine life, from deep-sea creatures to surface dwellers like humpback whales, sea lions, and albatrosses. As a result, Monterey Bay remains a crucial habitat teeming with life at all levels of the ocean.

A woolly siphonophore (Apolemia lanosa) observed by MBARI’s remotely
operated vehicle (ROV) Tiburon in the outer Monterey Canyon at a depth of 1,200 meters.
(Courtesy: Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute MBARI)

What sets Monterey Canyon apart is the sheer accessibility of this underwater frontier for scientific exploration. The canyon’s proximity to the shore makes it a prime research site for organizations like the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI). Using remotely operated vehicles (ROVs) and advanced oceanographic tools, MBARI scientists have conducted groundbreaking studies on the canyon’s geology, hydrology, and biology. Their research has shed light on phenomena like deep-sea carbon cycling, the behavior of deepwater species, and the ecological impacts of climate change.

This animation, the most detailed ever created of Monterey Canyon, combines ship-based multibeam data at a resolution of 25 meters (82 feet) with high-precision autonomous underwater vehicle (AUV) mapping data at just one meter (three feet), revealing the canyon’s intricate underwater topography like never before.

MBARI’s founder, the late David Packard, envisioned the institute as a hub for pushing the boundaries of marine science and engineering, and it has lived up to this mission. Researchers like Bruce Robison have pioneered the use of ROVs to study elusive deep-sea animals, capturing stunning footage of creatures like the vampire squid and the elusive giant siphonophore, a colonial organism that can stretch over 100 feet, making it one of the longest animals on Earth.

Bruce Robison, deep-sea explorer and senior scientist at MBARI, has spent decades uncovering the mysteries of the ocean’s twilight zone, revealing the hidden lives of deep-sea creatures in Monterey Canyon. (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Among the younger generations of pioneering researchers at MBARI, Kakani Katija stands out for her groundbreaking contributions to marine science. Katija has spearheaded the development of FathomNet, an open-source image database that leverages artificial intelligence to identify and count marine animals in deep-sea video footage, revolutionizing how researchers analyze vast datasets. Her work has also explored the role of marine organism movements in ocean mixing, revealing their importance for nutrient distribution and global ocean circulation. These advancements not only deepen our understanding of the deep sea but also showcase how cutting-edge technology can transform our approach to studying life in the deep ocean.

Two leading scientists at MBARI, Steve Haddock and Kyra Schlining, have made groundbreaking discoveries in Monterey Canyon, expanding our understanding of deep-sea ecosystems. Haddock, a marine biologist specializing in bioluminescence, has revealed how deep-sea organisms like jellyfish and siphonophores use light for communication, camouflage, and predation. His research has uncovered new species and illuminated the role of bioluminescence in the deep ocean. Schlining, an expert in deep-sea video analysis, has played a key role in identifying and cataloging previously unknown marine life captured by MBARI’s remotely operated vehicles (ROVs). Her work has helped map the canyon’s biodiversity and track environmental changes over time, shedding light on the delicate balance of life in this hidden world.

A peacock squid (Taonius sp.) observed by one of MBARI’s remotely operated
vehicles. (Courtesy: Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute MBARI)

Monterey Canyon continues to inspire curiosity and collaboration. Its unique conditions make it a natural laboratory for testing cutting-edge technologies, from autonomous underwater vehicles to sensors for tracking ocean chemistry. The canyon also plays a vital role in education and conservation efforts, with institutions like the Monterey Bay Aquarium engaging visitors and raising awareness about the importance of protecting our oceans.

As we venture deeper into Monterey Canyon—an astonishing world hidden just off our coast—we find ourselves with more questions than answers. How far can life push its limits? How do geology and biology shape each other in the depths? And how are human activities altering this fragile underwater landscape? Yet with every dive and every discovery, we get a little closer to unraveling the mysteries of one of Earth’s last great frontiers: the ocean.

California’s Two-Spot Octopus Combines Extraordinary Intelligence with Masterful Camouflage

A Model Organism Advancing Research in Genomics and Behavioral Science

California Two Spot Octopus (Photo: Erik Olsen)

(This post has been updated with new research on octopus neurology.)

While diving along the California coastline, spotting a California two-spot octopus is a rare and memorable experience. Nestled in rocky crevices or hidden among kelp, these octopuses are easily identified by their distinctive blue “eye-spots,” which are not actual eyes but mimicry patterns used to confuse predators. Such encounters provide a fascinating glimpse into the behavior of this remarkable marine species.

The California two-spot octopus (Octopus bimaculoides), found from Central California to Baja, is a master of adaptation. Its chromatophores—specialized skin cells—allow it to change color and pattern with precision, enabling camouflage, communication, and courtship displays. This ability, paired with its intelligence and problem-solving skills, highlights the octopus’s unique place in the marine ecosystem and makes it a subject of keen scientific interest.

The California two-spot octopus, Octopus bimaculoides, is a marine creature that not only captivates with its intelligence but also serves as a window into the complex tapestry of cephalopod behavior and genomics.

Their behavior is an orchestra of complexity; they are solitary creatures, favoring a reclusive life, with the exception of mating. Research has shown that they have a keen ability to learn and navigate mazes, unscrew jars, and engage in play, indicating a level of intelligence that is quite remarkable for an invertebrate. 

Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History Sea Center

The study of octopus intelligence, characterized by their remarkable problem-solving abilities and behavioral sophistication, has profound implications for our understanding of intelligence as a biological phenomenon. Octopuses, having diverged from the lineage that would lead to humans around 600 million years ago, share a common ancestor with us that was likely a simple, multicellular organism, a primitive flatworm. This vast evolutionary gulf highlights the fact that octopus intelligence developed along a trajectory entirely distinct from our own. Their decentralized nervous systems, capable of independently operating limbs and complex reflex actions, challenge the mammalian-centric view of brain-body coordination and cognitive processing, suggesting that intelligent behavior can arise from a variety of neural architectures.

Unlike humans and other vertebrates, where neural control is centralized in the brain, over two-thirds of this octopus’s neurons are located in its arms. This decentralized system allows each arm to function with remarkable independence, capable of exploring, tasting, and manipulating its environment without direct input from the brain. Recent studies reveal that octopus arm neurons are arranged in segmented clusters, enabling precise control of movement and the coordination of its powerful suckers. This unique adaptation not only enhances their hunting efficiency but also underscores the intricate evolutionary design of these intelligent marine creatures.

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If you haven’t seen it yet, I highly recommend YouTuber Mark Rober’s recent video on octopus intelligence. His pet octopus Sashimi is a California Two Spot Octopus.

The ability of octopuses to adapt their skin color and texture in real-time, for purposes ranging from camouflage to communication, is a further testament to their cognitive prowess. This capability is controlled not just by their brains, but by the network of nerve cells spread across their body discussed above, showcasing a form of distributed intelligence. It indicates that cognition can be more holistic than previously thought, involving complex interactions between an organism’s nervous system and its environment. These findings prompt a reevaluation of intelligence, proposing that it is not a single trait but rather a spectrum of abilities that can manifest in diverse forms across different species.

Recent discoveries have shown the animal’s remarkable ability to actually see with its skin. A University of California at Santa Barbara study found that the skin of the California two-spot octopus can sense light even without input from the central nervous system. The animal does so by using the same family of light-sensitive proteins called opsins found in its eyes (and ours) — a process not previously described for cephalopods. The researchers’ findings appeared in the Journal of Experimental Biology.

California two-spot octopus hatchling (UCSB)

The independent evolutionary path of octopus intelligence highlights the remarkable plasticity and adaptability of cognitive systems. It implies that intelligence can evolve under a variety of ecological pressures and life histories. In the case of the octopus, their short lifespans and lack of social structures, which are generally seen as drivers of intelligence in vertebrates, have not prevented them from developing complex behaviors and learning capacities. This independence suggests that intelligence is not a linear or singular progression but a trait that can emerge in multiple forms across the tree of life, shaped by the specific challenges and opportunities an organism faces in its niche.

Octopus chromatophores

The California Two-Spot Octopus is increasingly recognized as a valuable model organism for scientific research due to its unique biology and evolutionary position. New studies, particularly in the field of genomics using the genome of the California Two Spot octopus, have unveiled the vastness of the octopus’s genetic blueprint. Its sequenced genome provides an unparalleled resource for studying cephalopod-specific innovations, including their advanced nervous systems, remarkable cognitive abilities, and capacity for complex behaviors such as camouflage and problem-solving. As a model organism, the two-spot octopus enables researchers to explore fundamental questions about neural development, learning, and adaptation in animals, offering insights that extend to broader biological and evolutionary contexts. The genome’s wealth of information, including expanded gene families linked to neural function and adaptive traits, makes this octopus an ideal subject for addressing critical questions in genomics, neurobiology, and evolutionary biology.

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Their genome is large and contains a greater number of genes than that of a human, with a massive proliferation of gene families associated with neural development hinting at the biological underpinnings of their brainpower and behavior. These genetic insights could explain not only their sophisticated nervous systems but also their adaptability and the evolution of their unique traits.

For the California science enthusiast, the two-spot octopus represents not just a local marine inhabitant but also a subject of profound scientific intrigue. The more we delve into their world, the more we uncover about the possibilities of life’s evolutionary paths. Their genomic complexity challenges our understanding of intelligence and consciousness, making them not just a marvel of the deep but a mirror reflecting the enigma of life itself.

How a Tiny Beetle Helped Save California

California’s citrus industry confronted a deadly challenge, leading to a groundbreaking innovation in pest control.

Cottony Cushion Scale (Public Domain)

In the sun-drenched orchards of late 19th-century California, a crisis was unfolding that threatened to decimate the state’s burgeoning citrus industry. The culprit was a small sap-sucking insect native to Australia called the cottony cushion scale (Icerya purchasi). First identified in New Zealand in 1878, this pest had made its way to California by the early 1880s, wreaking havoc on citrus groves. The pest is believed to have arrived in the United States through the global trade of plants, a common vector for invasive species during the 19th century. As horticulture expanded globally, ornamental plants and crops were frequently shipped between countries without the quarantine measures we have today. Once established in the mild climate of California, the cottony cushion scale found ideal conditions to thrive, spreading rapidly and wreaking havoc on the citrus industry.

The cottony cushion scale infested trees with a vengeance, covering branches and leaves with a white, cotton-like secretion. This not only weakened the trees by extracting vital sap but also led to the growth of sooty mold on the honeydew excreted by the insects, further impairing photosynthesis. Growers employed various methods to combat the infestation, including washing trees with whale oil, applying blistering steam, and even detonating gunpowder in the orchards. Despite these efforts, the pest continued its relentless spread, causing citrus exports to plummet from 2,000 boxcars in 1887 to just 400 the following year. This decline translated to millions of dollars in lost revenue, threatening the livelihoods of countless farmers and jeopardizing the state’s citrus economy, which was valued at over $10 million annually (approx. $627 million in today’s dollars) during this period.

Orange and lemon groves, along with the home of citrus pioneer William Wolfskill, circa 1882. (California Historical Society)

In 1885, the independent growers across Southern California banded together in response to the insect invasion and the broader difficulties facing citrus growers at the time, forming the state’s first fruit cooperative, which would later become Sunkist. Despite their efforts, homemade mixtures of kerosene, acids, and other chemicals failed to halt the relentless spread of Icerya purchasi. The pests, with an endless supply of citrus trees to feed on, continued to multiply unchecked. New laws mandated growers to uproot and burn infected orange trees, but the devastation was widespread. By 1888, real estate values, which had soared by 600 percent since 1877, had plummeted.

Enter Charles Valentine Riley, the Chief Entomologist for the U.S. Department of Agriculture. A visionary in the field of entomology, Riley had previously attempted biological control by introducing predatory mites to combat grape phylloxera in France, albeit with limited success. Undeterred, he proposed a similar strategy for the cottony cushion scale crisis. In 1888, Riley dispatched his trusted colleague, a fellow entomologist named Albert Koebele, to Australia to identify natural enemies of the pest.

The cottony cushion scale infestations were so severe that citrus trees appeared as though they had been coated with artificial snow, resembling Christmas flocking. Fruit production sharply declined, and many trees succumbed to the damage. (UC Riverside)

Interestingly, Valentine resorted to subterfuge to send an entomologist to Australia despite Congress’s objections. Lawmakers had prohibited foreign travel by the Agriculture Department to curb Riley’s frequent European excursions. However, Riley, well-versed in navigating political obstacles, cleverly arranged for an entomologist to join a State Department delegation heading to an international exposition in Melbourne.

Charles Valentine Riley (Wikipedia)

Koebele’s expedition proved fruitful. He worked with Australian experts to locate the pest in its rare habitats along with its natural enemies, including a parasitic fly and approximately the Vedalia beetle. The vedalia beetle (Rodolia cardinalis) is a small ladybird with a voracious appetite for the cottony cushion scale. Koebele collected and shipped hundreds of these beetles back to California. Upon their release into infested orchards, the vedalia beetles rapidly established themselves, feasting on the scales and reproducing prolifically. Within months, the cottony cushion scale populations had diminished dramatically, and by 1890, the pest was largely under control across the state. This 1888-89 campaign marked the beginning of biological control in the United States, a strategy involving the introduction of natural predators to manage invasive pests.

In her 1962 classic Silent Spring, Rachel Carson described the Novius beetle’s work in California as “the world’s most famous and successful experiment in biological control.”

Novius ladybug devours an Icerya.  (UC Riverside)

This was far from the last time California employed such measures. It became a relatively common practice to introduce new species to control those that posed threats to the state’s economically vital crops, but not always successfully.

In the 1940s, California introduced parasitic wasps such as Trioxys pallidus to control the walnut aphid, a pest threatening the state’s walnut orchards. These tiny wasps laid their eggs inside the aphids, killing them and dramatically reducing infestations, saving the industry millions of dollars. Decades later, in the 1990s, the state faced an invasive glassy-winged sharpshooter, a pest that spread Pierce’s disease in grapevines. (Interesting fact: The glassy-winged sharpshooter drinks huge amounts of water and thus pees frequently, expelling as much as 300 times its own body weight in urine every day.) To combat this, scientists introduced Gonatocerus ashmeadi, a parasitic wasp that targets the pest’s eggs. This biological control effort helped protect California’s wine industry from devastating losses.

The Vedalia beetle (novius cardinalis) also known as the cardinal ladybird (Katja Schulz Wikipedia)

While the introduction of the vedalia beetle was highly effective and hailed as a groundbreaking success, biological control efforts are not without risks, often falling prey to the law of unintended consequences. Although no major ecological disruptions were recorded in the case of the cottony cushion scale, similar projects have shown how introducing foreign species can sometimes lead to unforeseen negative impacts. For example, the cane toad in Australia, introduced to combat beetles in sugarcane fields, became a notorious ecological disaster as it spread uncontrollably, preying on native species and disrupting ecosystems. Similarly, the mongoose introduced to control rats in sugarcane fields in Hawaii also turned predatory toward native birds. These examples highlight the need for meticulous study and monitoring when implementing biological control strategies. Today, regulatory frameworks require rigorous ecological assessments to minimize such risks.

The glassy-winged sharpshooter (Georgia Tech)

In the case of the Vedalia beetle, its precise and targeted predation led to a highly successful outcome in California. Citrus quickly became one of the state’s most dominant and profitable crops, helping to establish California as a leader in agricultural production—a position it continues to hold firmly today.

This groundbreaking use of biological control not only rescued California’s citrus industry but also established a global precedent for environmentally sustainable pest management. The success of the Vedalia beetle’s introduction showcased the power of natural predators in managing agricultural pests, offering an alternative to chemical pesticides. While pesticides remain widely used in California and across the world, this effort underscores the value of understanding ecological relationships, evolutionary biology, and the benefits of international scientific collaboration.

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The story of the Vedalia beetle and the cottony cushion scale highlights human ingenuity and the effectiveness of nature’s own checks and balances. It stands as an early example of integrated pest management, a method that continues to grow and adapt to meet modern agricultural challenges. This successful intervention underscores the importance of sustainable practices in protecting both our food systems and the environment.

Walter Munk was a Californian Oceanographer Who Changed Our Understanding of the Seas

Photo: Erik Jepsen (UC San Diego)

Walter Munk, often referred to as the “Einstein of the Oceans,” was one of the most influential oceanographers of the 20th century. Over a career that spanned more than 70 years, Munk fundamentally altered how we think about the oceans, contributing to our understanding of everything from wave prediction during World War II to deep-sea drilling in California. His work at the Scripps Institution of Oceanography in La Jolla, California, was groundbreaking and continues to influence scientific thinking to this day.

Walter Heinrich Munk was born in Vienna, Austria, on October 19, 1917. At 14, he moved to New York, where he later pursued physics at Columbia University. He became a U.S. citizen in 1939 and earned a bachelor’s degree in physics from the California Institute of Technology the same year, followed by a master’s in geophysics in 1940. Munk then attended the Scripps Institution of Oceanography and completed his Ph.D. in oceanography from the University of California in 1947.

Dr. Walter Munk in 1952. (Scripps Institution of Oceanography Archives/UC San Diego Libraries)

In the early 1940s, Munk’s career took a defining turn when the United States entered World War II. At the time, predicting ocean conditions was largely guesswork, and this posed a significant challenge for military operations. Munk, a PhD student at Scripps at the time, was recruited by the U.S. Army to solve a problem that could make or break military strategy—accurate wave prediction for amphibious landings.

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One of his most famous contributions during the war came in 1944, ahead of the Allied invasion of Normandy. Alongside fellow oceanographer Harald Sverdrup, Munk developed a method to predict the size and timing of ocean waves, ensuring that troops could land safely during the D-Day invasion. Using their model, the Allied forces delayed the invasion by one day, a move that proved crucial in reducing casualties and securing the beachhead. This same wave prediction work was used again in the Pacific theater, particularly for landings on islands like Iwo Jima and Eniwetok. Munk’s contributions not only helped win the war but also laid the foundation for modern oceanography. Wave forecasting is now a standard tool for naval operations, shipping, and even recreational surfers.

Landing craft pass supporting warships in the Battle of Eniwetok, 19 February 1944. (U.S. Army)

After the war, Munk returned to Scripps, a place that would remain central to his career. Established in 1903, Scripps had been growing into a major center for oceanographic research, and Munk’s work helped elevate it to new heights. Located in La Jolla, just north of San Diego, Scripps was perfectly positioned on the California coastline to be at the forefront of oceanographic studies. Scripps is one of the premier oceanographic institutions in the world.

During the post-war years, Munk helped pioneer several new areas of research, from the study of tides and currents to the mysteries of the deep sea. California, with its rich marine ecosystems and coastal access, became the perfect laboratory. In La Jolla, Munk studied the Southern California Current and waves that originated across the Pacific, bringing new understanding to local coastal erosion and long-term climate patterns like El Niño. His research had a direct impact on California’s relationship with its coastline, from naval operations to public policy concerning marine environments.

Walter Munk in 1963 with a tide capsule. The capsule was dropped to the seafloor to measure deep-sea tides before such measurements became feasible by satellite. Credit Ansel Adams, University of California

While Munk’s contributions to wave forecasting may be his most widely recognized work, one of his boldest projects came in the 1960s with Project Mohole. It was an ambitious scientific initiative to drill into the Earth’s mantle, the layer beneath the Earth’s crust. The project was named after the Mohorovičić Discontinuity (named after the pioneering Croatian seismologist Andrija Mohorovičić), the boundary between the Earth’s crust and mantle. The boundary is often referred to as the “Moho”. The goal was revolutionary: to retrieve a sample from the Earth’s mantle, a feat never before attempted.

The idea was to drill through the ocean floor, where the Earth’s crust is thinner than on land, and reach the mantle, providing geologists with direct insights into the composition and dynamics of our planet. The project was largely conceived by American geologists and oceanographers, including Munk, who saw this as an opportunity to leapfrog the Soviet Union in the ongoing Cold War race for scientific supremacy.

The Glomar Challenger, launched in 1968, was the drill ship for NSF’s Deep Sea Drilling Project. (Public Domain)

California was again the backdrop for this audacious project. The drilling took place off the coast of Guadalupe Island, about 200 miles from the Mexican coast, and Scripps played a key role in organizing and coordinating the scientific work. The project succeeded in drilling deeper into the ocean floor than ever before, reaching 600 feet into the seabed. However, funding issues and technical challenges caused the U.S. Congress to abandon the project before the mantle could be reached. Despite its early end, Project Mohole is considered a precursor to modern deep-sea drilling efforts, and it helped pave the way for initiatives like the Integrated Ocean Drilling Program, which continues to explore the ocean’s depths today. For example, techniques for dynamic positioning for ships at sea were largely developed for the Mohole Project.

Munk’s work was deeply tied to California, a state whose coastlines and oceanography provided a wealth of data and opportunities for study. Scripps itself is perched on a stunning bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, a setting that greatly inspired Munk and his colleagues. Throughout his career, Munk worked on understanding the coastal dynamics of California, from studying the erosion patterns of beaches to analyzing how global warming might impact the state’s famous coastal cliffs.

Scripps Institution of Oceanography

His legacy continues to shape how California manages its vast coastline. The methodologies and insights he developed in wave prediction are now used in environmental and civil engineering projects that protect harbors, beaches, and coastal infrastructure from wave damage. As climate change accelerates the rate of sea level rise, Munk’s work on tides, ocean currents, and wave dynamics is more relevant than ever for California’s future.

Walter Munk’s contributions to oceanography stretched well beyond his wartime work and Project Mohole. He was instrumental in shaping how we understand everything from deep-sea currents to climate patterns, earning him numerous awards and accolades. His work at Scripps set the stage for the institution’s current status as a world leader in oceanographic research.

One of the most notable examples of this work was an experiment led by Munk to determine whether acoustics could be used to measure ocean temperatures on a global scale, offering insights into the effects of global warming. In 1991, Munk’s team transmitted low-frequency underwater acoustic signals from a remote site near Heard Island in the southern Indian Ocean. This location was strategically chosen because sound waves could travel along direct paths to listening stations in both the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. The experiment proved successful, with signals detected as far away as Bermuda, New Zealand, and the U.S. West Coast. The time it took for the sound to travel was influenced by the temperature of the water, confirming the premise of the study.

Walter Munk in 2010 after winning the Crafoord Prize. (Crafoord Prize)

Munk passed away in 2019 at the age of 101, but his influence lives on. His approach to science—marked by curiosity, boldness, and a willingness to take on complex, high-risk projects—remains an inspiration for generations of scientists. He was a giant not only in oceanography but also in shaping California’s role in global scientific innovation. As the state faces the challenges of a changing climate, Munk’s legacy as the “Einstein of the Oceans” continues to be felt along its shores and beyond.

California’s Dark-Eyed Juncos Are Quietly Evolving in Plain Sight

Dark-eyed junco in Southern California (Photo: Alex Fu)

When we step outside and see wildlife, we often think of it as unchanging. A bird on a branch, a crab in a tide pool, a lizard skittering across a sidewalk. It feels timeless. But in truth, these animals are evolving, slowly and steadily, right in front of us. As climates become more unpredictable, habitats shift, food sources change, and nature adapts. This is especially true in our cities. Built over just the past few centuries, these sprawling human environments are reshaping the natural world and pushing wildlife to adjust in new and often surprising ways.

As California’s cities have expanded and encroached upon natural landscapes, it turns out the state’s wildlife is adapting in fascinating ways. Studying these changes is central to urban evolution, or how species adapt over time, both genetically and behaviorally, to the unique pressures of city life. From coyotes navigating traffic to birds adjusting their songs to be heard over city noise, urban evolution reveals how nature is not just surviving in cities, but evolving with them. Darwin believed natural selection was too slow to observe in real time, but today we know evolution can happen rapidly, sometimes within just a few generations.

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Dark-eyed junco in Southern California (Photo: Alex Fu)

One cool example of urban evolution in California is the story of the dark-eyed junco (Junco hyemalis), a small songbird traditionally found in mountainous forests that is now thriving in urban environments like San Diego and Los Angeles. If you’re a birder or simply someone who enjoys watching the wildlife in your backyard, you’ve almost certainly seen them. Dark-eyed juncos are small songbirds with distinctive dark heads, often spotted hopping around on the ground rather than perching at feeders. I see them all the time, pecking at the spilled seeds beneath my feeder (or, I should say feeders, as I have several…nerd alert!). It turns out they’re classic ground foragers, evolved to search for food by scratching through leaf litter or snow, uncovering seeds, insects, and other hidden bits.

Recent research has revealed that dark-eyed juncos are evolving in direct response to urban life. Traditionally migratory, these birds once spent summers breeding in cool mountain forests and winters at lower elevations. But in the early 1980s, a group of juncos broke from that pattern and settled year-round on the campus of UC San Diego. There, researchers began documenting striking behavioral shifts. The urban juncos were bolder, less fearful of humans, and had even altered their mating and nesting habits. These changes, observed over just a few decades, offer a vivid example of how quickly species can adapt to city environments, a real-time case study in urban evolution unfolding in human-shaped habitats.

University of California San Diego (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Similarly, at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), a junco population has been thriving for decades, with numbers reaching approximately 300. This long-term success has provided the Yeh Lab at UCLA with a unique opportunity to study how urban environments influence the evolution and behavior of these adaptable songbirds. Their research sheds light on how juncos have adjusted to city life, offering broader insights into wildlife resilience in human-altered habitats.

“It’s impressive how rapidly these vertebrate species can evolve. In a matter of a handful of years, we can find some pretty significant changes,” Pamela Yeh, an associate professor in ecology and evolutionary biology at UCLA, told California Curated. Yeh studied the junco population at UC San Diego when she was an undergraduate student there and wanted to expand the research to the population at UCLA. Studying the two different populations may offer insights into how species evolve in urban environments.

“We want to know, does a city make you evolve?” asks Yeh. “Do the different cities make you evolve similarly? Do the birds all become smaller? Do they all become bigger? Do they all have different-sized beaks? Or is each city unique?”

Dark-eyed junco at UCLA (Photo: Sierra Glassman)

With decades of data, the work echoes the groundbreaking research of Princeton scientists Peter and Rosemary Grant, whose studies of Galápagos finches transformed our understanding of how swiftly natural selection can operate. Now, the junco studies are taking that idea further, showing evolution unfolding not on remote islands, but in the heart of our cities.

“I think it’s now really considered a model vertebrate system for urban evolution,” says Yeh.

In their natural forest environments, juncos breed in response to the changing seasons, triggered by increasing daylight hours and rising temperatures. But in urban areas like those around UCSD and UCLA, where food is plentiful year-round, juncos have begun breeding earlier than normal and throughout the year. They build nests higher off the ground, often on artificial structures, and have increased the number of clutches per breeding season. The availability of artificial light, abundant food from human sources, and fewer natural predators in the city all play roles in these behavioral shifts.

Yeh believes it’s no accident that junco populations have surged on college campuses in recent decades. In fact, she sees it as a direct response to the unique conditions these urban environments provide.

“We think it is is partially that [urban university environments] mimic the natural environment, which is a mix of meadows and tall trees. But the other thing that we think could be important is the irrigation in grassy areas that allow the juncos, even when it’s extremely hot, there are still small insects and worms to grab and feed their offspring.”

One of the most striking adaptations among urban juncos is their behavioral shift in regards to people. Unlike their shy mountain counterparts, urban juncos are much more tolerant of human presence. This is not only a matter of convenience; it’s a survival mechanism. In the city, humans are not a threat, and urban birds need to capitalize on the resources provided by their proximity to people. Their lack of fear “allows them to keep eating even when we walk by,” says Yeh.

Dark-eyed junco in Southern California (Photo: Alex Fu)

Studying junco evolution isn’t just a scientific curiosity. It has real conservation stakes. Things haven’t been looking good for birds. An October 2019 study published in Science by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology revealed that North America has lost nearly 3 billion birds over the past 50 years, with dark-eyed juncos alone declining by 168 million. Yet their ability to adapt to urban life suggests they may have the evolutionary tools needed to weather these dramatic changes.

Beyond behavior, there are physical differences between urban and rural populations of dark-eyed juncos. Urban juncos, for example, developed duller black plumage on their heads and showed reduced white markings in their tail feathers. Yeh and her team have also documented that the wings of urban juncos are smaller, an adaptation likely driven by the demands of maneuvering through a dense, built environment rather than long-distance flight.

Ellie Diamant, currently a Ph.D. candidate in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology at UCLA in the Yeh Lab, holding a dark-eyed junco. (Photo: Ellie Diamant)

“Juncos historically were migratory birds. The ones that live in the mountains still are. But in the urban environments, we see them year-round,” says Dr. Ellie Diamant, Visiting Assistant Professor at Bard College. “So the benefits are gone for the longer-distance flight, but there seems to be more benefit for these short wings.” Diamant completed her Ph.D. in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology at UCLA in the Yeh Lab.

The dark-eyed junco is just one example of the broader phenomenon of urban evolution, where species adjust to the challenges and opportunities posed by city life. In California, this phenomenon extends beyond birds. Coyotes, for example, have become fixtures in cities like Los Angeles, adapting to scavenge food from human waste. Coastal animals like sea lions and pelicans have also made urban waterfronts their home, thriving amid the bustle of human activity. Similarly, the Western Fence Lizard has swiftly adapted to life in an urbanized environment.

Junco hatchlings at UCLA. (Photo: Sierra Glassman)

In his book Darwin Comes to Town, Dutch evolutionary biologist Menno Schilthuizen highlights the junco as an exemplar of rapid evolution in urban settings, but it also goes much further, documenting how our manmade environments are accelerating and changing the evolution of the animals and plants around us. Of course, it’s not all good news. Not by a long shot.

Studies published in Evolutionary Applications, underscore that urbanization is a double-edged sword, offering opportunities for adaptation but also introducing serious threats. In Los Angeles, for instance, the fragmentation of habitat by highways has led to the deaths of countless animals, a problem now being tackled through the construction of wildlife bridges like the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing opening in 2026, designed to reconnect critical migration routes.

Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing currently under construction (Photo: State of California)

The dark-eyed junco’s ability to adapt to city life is both encouraging and a bit sobering. It shows how some wildlife can adjust and find ways to thrive even as human development spreads. But it also reflects the growing pressure we’re putting on natural ecosystems. In other words, it’s not all good, and it’s not all bad. As scientists dig deeper into urban ecology in California and elsewhere, the junco stands out as a clear example of how life shifts and changes in response to the world we’re shaping.

For those of us who live in cities, the juncos flitting through parks, pecking in our yards, and hopping across college campuses offer a chance to see evolution happening right in front of us. Nature isn’t some distant thing beyond the city limits. It’s here, threaded into the daily patterns of urban life.

All the Fish We Did Not See – The Discovery of the Ocean’s False Bottom off California

A paper nautilus or Argonaut, a group of pelagic octopuses that dwell in the ocean’s twilight zone. (Erik Olsen)

In the summer of 1942, aboard the USS Jasper, a team of scientists embarked on a mission off the coast of San Diego, California, a hub for U.S. Navy operations and other military activities vital for the Pacific Theater of World War II. Their goal was to test a new technology called “long-range active sonar,” developed to detect enemy submarines—specifically Japanese submarines and German U-boats—during World War II. Long-range active sonar is a technology that sends sound waves through the ocean to map and visualize the seafloor across great distances, revealing details of underwater topography and structures that would otherwise remain hidden beneath the waves.

The expedition was led by Carl F. Eyring, an accomplished acoustic physicist known for his pioneering work in sonar technology. Eyring, along with his colleagues Ralph A. Christensen and Russell W. Raitt, played crucial roles in the mission. Their combined expertise in acoustics, naval operations, and marine science made them the perfect team to explore the deep ocean with sound.

The USS Jasper in 1945—just a few years after scientists discovered the first evidence of the Deep Scattering Layer during a research cruise aboard the ship. (Photo: Naval History and Heritage Command)

As they deployed sonar pulses into the depths, they encountered an unexpected anomaly: a persistent, dense layer approximately 300 yards (about 274 meters) below the surface that scattered their acoustic signals. It was almost as if the ocean floor had risen, looming closer with a strange, unyielding presence that defied all explanations.

This new reading was a complete anomaly, contradicting everything they knew about the seafloor’s topology. It was as though a solid mass had somehow materialized in the depths—a mass dense enough to obscure their sonar and make the familiar landscape unrecognizable. At the same time, their signal strength readings spiked erratically, suggesting significant interference in the water.

Carl F. Eyring (Brigham Young University)

The discovery of this peculiar layer presented an intriguing puzzle to the scientists aboard the Jasper. Yet, with a war raging, they couldn’t afford to lose focus. Instead, they concentrated on measuring its dimensions and mitigating the acoustic interference it created. Determining its true nature would have to wait for another time.

It wasn’t until almost three years later, in 1945, that oceanographer Martin Johnson deployed nets into the Pacific and uncovered the truth: the layer was actually a massive cloud of marine animals, most no larger than a human finger, migrating daily from the deep ocean to the surface and back. This dense biological layer, packed with animals capable of reflecting sonar, had created the illusion of a solid mass, effectively “masking” the true depth of the ocean floor by reflecting sonar waves off the swim bladders of the fish and other marine organisms. 

Bristlemouth trawled from the ocean’s twilight zone (Erik Olsen)

This phenomenon, later termed the Deep Scattering Layer (DSL), created a “false bottom” in sonar readings, revealing an unexpectedly dense concentration of biological life in a mid-ocean zone once thought to be relatively sparse. The discovery of the DSL challenged assumptions about life distribution in the ocean, showing that vast numbers of organisms—such as fish, squid, and zooplankton—populate these depths, rising and descending with daily cycles to avoid predators and optimize feeding.

The DSL is situated within the ocean’s mesopelagic zone, commonly referred to as the twilight zone, which extends from about 200 to 1,000 meters below the surface. This region is characterized by minimal sunlight penetration and hosts a diverse array of marine life. Indeed, this huge swath of biomass is exactly what the sonar was picking up. This remarkable behavior observed in this zone is the diurnal vertical migration—the largest daily movement of biomass on Earth, the world’s largest animal migration. Each evening, billions of organisms (some scientists actually believe they number into the quadrillions) including small fish like lanternfish, hatchetfish and bristlemouths, ascend toward the surface to feed under the cover of darkness, retreating to the depths at dawn to evade predators. (Bristlemouths, by the way, are said to be the most numerous vertebrate on the planet.)

Scattering layer seen on sonar (Erik Olsen)

The discovery of the DSL provided significant insights into marine biology and oceanography. The layer’s composition—primarily swarms of marine animals with gas-filled swim bladders—explained the sonar reflections that mimicked the seafloor. This understanding highlighted the abundance and biodiversity of life in the twilight zone and underscored the importance of these organisms in oceanic ecosystems.

The discovery also led over time to an understanding of the role this layer plays in the carbon cycle, the very phenomenon that helps regulate Earth’s climate. The daily migration of marine animals in this layer is not just a remarkable biological spectacle; it is also a key mechanism for transporting carbon from the ocean’s surface to its depths. As these organisms ascend at night to feed and then return to deeper waters during the day, they excrete waste and many of them die, effectively moving carbon downwards, often sequestering it in the deep ocean floor where it can remain for centuries. This process, known as the biological carbon pump, plays a vital role in mitigating the effects of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, thus contributing to climate stability. Without the existence of the Deep Scattering Layer and its role in the carbon cycle, the Earth’s carbon balance would be significantly different, highlighting just how interconnected marine ecosystems are with global climate regulation.

In the decades following its discovery, the DSL has remained a subject of scientific inquiry. Advancements in sonar technology and deep-sea exploration have revealed the layer’s dynamic nature and its role in global carbon cycling.

Current research into the twilight zone, particularly by scientists at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution (WHOI), is uncovering fascinating insights into this enigmatic region of the ocean. The twilight zone remains one of the least explored parts of the ocean, despite being home to an abundance of life and playing a crucial role in global biogeochemical cycles. Woods Hole has been at the forefront of investigating this layer, employing advanced technology like remotely operated vehicles (ROVs), autonomous underwater vehicles (AUVs), submersibles, and cutting-edge acoustic techniques to understand its complex dynamics and ecosystem.

One of the leading researchers at WHOI, Dr. Heidi Sosik, has been focusing on the role that the twilight zone plays in the carbon cycle. Sosik’s work involves the use of automated imaging technologies to analyze the behavior and diversity of the organisms inhabiting this region. By documenting their daily migrations and interactions, Sosik’s team has been able to quantify the extent to which these animals contribute to carbon transport. This research is essential for understanding how much carbon is effectively being sequestered from the atmosphere through these daily migrations.

Bristlemouth fish (Erik Olsen)

Another prominent scientist at WHOI, Dr. Andone Lavery, is working to map the twilight zone’s acoustics in unprecedented detail. Lavery’s expertise in underwater sound technology has helped reveal not only the composition of the Deep Scattering Layer but also the behaviors of its inhabitants. Lavery’s recent findings indicate that the twilight zone’s acoustic properties are far more dynamic than previously thought, and these properties can significantly affect how marine animals detect predators and prey, as well as how researchers measure biomass in this layer.

Dr. Simon Thorrold, also from WHOI, has been studying the food web dynamics within the twilight zone. Thorrold’s research has uncovered surprising insights into predator-prey relationships among mesopelagic species. Using chemical tracers, his team has been able to track the movement of nutrients through the food web, revealing that many animals from the twilight zone are integral to surface ecosystems as well, either through vertical migration or being preyed upon by larger species such as tuna, swordfish, and marine mammals.

Scientists use a Triton submersible to explore the ocean’s twilight zone in the Bahamas. (Erik Olsen)

In addition, WHOI has been collaborating with international partners on the “Twilight Zone Exploration” (TZX) project, which aims to better understand how human activities, such as fishing and climate change, are impacting this critical part of the ocean. The mesopelagic zone is increasingly targeted by commercial fishing due to the sheer biomass it holds. Dr. Sosik and her colleagues are actively studying the potential consequences of harvesting these species, considering their importance in carbon sequestration and as a key link in marine food webs.

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Together, these efforts are gradually revealing the twilight zone’s secrets, emphasizing its importance not only in regulating climate but also in maintaining the health of marine ecosystems. As the pressures of climate change and human exploitation continue to grow, understanding this mysterious part of the ocean has never been more critical.

The USS Jasper‘s encounter with the false bottom off California’s coast stands as a pivotal moment in oceanographic history. It not only unveiled the hidden complexities of the ocean’s twilight zone but also bridged the gap between military technology and marine science, leading to a deeper appreciation of the intricate and interconnected nature of Earth’s marine environments.