San Clemente Island is Where War Games and Wildlife Coexist

Loggerhead Shrike (Photo: US Fish and Wildlife Service)

A few months ago, I took a fishing trip out to the western side of San Clemente Island. I woke at two in the morning to the rattle of the anchor chain dropping and stepped out onto the deck, expecting darkness all around us. Instead the night was alive with a strange glow. Dozens of squid boats floated offshore, their powerful lights illuminating the water with a bluish, Avatar-like brightness. The lights draw squid toward the surface before the crews scoop them up in nets.

As I knew from earlier research, and from being a long-time California resident, squid are one of Californiaโ€™s top commercial fisheries, a multimillion-dollar industry built around what is known as market squid. They thrive in enormous numbers in the deep waters around the Channel Islands and up toward Santa Barbara, even though the average beachgoer rarely thinks about them. From the rail of the fishing boat I was I could see vast swarms just below the surface.

Squid boat off shore San Clemente Island (Photo: Erik Olsen)

When dawn broke, San Clemente Island emerged ahead of us, and I was struck by how stark and empty it looked. In both directions stretched the same raw, rugged coastline, with almost no sign of human presence (there were what appeared to be radio towers on the top of a peak, but no people).

It felt desolate and otherworldly. But the reality is more complicated.

The island is part of the Channel Islands, a chain that trends east to west rather than the usual northโ€“south pattern of most California ranges. The Channel Islands are often called North Americaโ€™s Galรกpagos because they support an extraordinary number of species found nowhere else, shaped by the deep isolation that defines island biogeography (we wrote about this earlier).

San Clemente Island (photo: U.S. Navy)

San Clemente is no exception. The island is abundant in wildlife, with its own collection of rare plants and animals. But what makes it stand apart from the other islands is the scale of the military activity just beyond the barren cliffs. The U.S. Navy conducts constant training here, including missile tests, amphibious landings, and live-fire exercises. The island is considered one of the most important training grounds for the United States military, operating around the clock even as endangered species cling to survival in the canyons and plateaus nearby.

San Clemente Island looks like a long volcanic ridge from offshore, but it has been one of the most important and least visible military landscapes in California for almost a century. It is the southernmost of the Channel Islands and has been owned entirely by the U.S. Navy since the late 1930s. Over time it became a central part of Naval Base Coronado, and today its main airfield supports helicopters, jets, drones, and special operations teams that rotate through the island throughout the year.

It all seemed really interesting. I desperately wanted to go ashore, but if Iโ€™d tried, I almost certainly would have been arrested.

Live fire training exercises with mortars on San Clemente Island Photo: (Spc. William Franco Espinosa / U.S. Army National Guard)

The island began shaping military history just before World War II. In 1939, naval engineers brought early versions of the Higgins boat to San Clemente Island to test how they handled surf, wind, and timing with naval gunfire. These flat-bottomed landing craft became essential to Allied victories in places like Normandy and Guadalcanal. The islandโ€™s rugged shoreline helped the US military refine the tactics behind the amphibious assaults that defined twentieth century warfare.

During the Cold War, San Clemente Island evolved into one of the Navyโ€™s busiest live fire training sites. The waters around Pyramid Cove hosted decommissioned ships used as targets. Carrier air wings practiced bombing runs across the southern plateau. Marine units rehearsed ship-to-shore landings on isolated beaches, while submarines conducted simulated missions under restricted airspace. We did a short video you can watch here.

Few places on the West Coast allowed sea, air, and land forces to operate together with real weapons, and the islandโ€™s remoteness made it ideal for rehearsing missions that couldn’t take place near populated coastlines. Yet all of this is happening just about 60 miles offshore from Los Angeles. (It took us about five hours to get back).

Higgins Boat (Photo: US Navy)

Civilian access has always been extremely limited, which is why the island only reaches the news when something unusual happens. One widely reported event occurred in 2023, when a private pilot illegally landed a small plane on the islandโ€™s runway and then stole a Navy truck before being detained. He tried again in 2025. This kind of thing underscores how isolated and tightly controlled the installation is. For the most part, the only people who ever set foot on the island are service members using it as a sophisticated, real world training environment.

Oh, and scientists, too.

That’s because the islandโ€™s natural history has been studied intensively. Decades ago, ranching introduced goats, sheep, and invasive plants that stripped vegetation from entire hillsides. Feral cats and rats preyed greedily on ground nesting birds, and live fire exercises fragmented habitat. By the 1970s and 1980s, San Clemente Island held one of the highest concentrations of endangered species in California, but everything was under threat.

San Clemente Island looks otherworldly and barren from a fishing boat (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Enter the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, which worked with the military to balance military readiness with the legal requirements of the Endangered Species Act. And it’s been, by many measures, a pretty major success.

No species became more symbolic of the struggle to protect the island than the San Clemente loggerhead shrike, a lovely, black masked songbird that lives nowhere else on Earth. By the late 1990s its wild population had fallen to as few as fourteen individuals. The Navy funded a comprehensive recovery effort that included captive breeding, predator removal, and habitat reconstruction, all with the expertise help of the San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance. By restoring vegetation and extensive breeding, scientists released shrikes which eventually began to hunt, build territories, and raise their young. The species is now considered one of the most successful island bird recoveries in North America.

The San Clemente Island fox, once threatened by habitat loss and predation, has rebounded significantly thanks to intensive conservation efforts that stabilized its population and restored its native ecosystem. (Photo: USFWS)

And that wasn’t the only success. Once goats and sheep were removed, native shrubs and herbs began returning to the island. Endemic plants such as the San Clemente Island lotus and San Clemente Island paintbrush, responded quickly once the pressure from grazing disappeared. In 2023, after decades of habitat recovery, the Fish and Wildlife Service announced that five island species were healthy enough to be removed from the endangered species list, a pretty cool milestone that suggested a major ecological turnaround for San Clemente and the Channel Islands as a whole.

San Clemente Island lotus (Photo: USFWS)

Today, San Clemente Island remains one of the most unusual places in California. It is a live fire training range where carrier groups, SEAL teams, and Marines rehearse some of the most complex operations in the Navy. It is also a refuge where rare birds and plants have recovered after hovering near extinction. Conservation biologists and military planners now coordinate schedules, field surveys, and habitat protections to keep both missions intact. There’s an excellent documentary on this recovery effort made by SoCal PBS.

California has become a national leader in restoring damaged ecosystems. And while the state has lost much of its original wildness over the centuries, it also offers some of the most compelling examples of species and habitats recovered from the brink. San Clemente Island is more ecologically stable today than at any point in the past century, and it continues to serve as one of the Navyโ€™s most valuable training grounds.

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Ten Essential Books About Californiaโ€™s Nature, Science, and Sense of Place

You can scroll endlessly through TikTok and Instagram for quick bursts of Californiaโ€™s beauty, but to truly sink into a subject, and to savor the craft of a great writer, you need a book. Iโ€™m an avid reader, and over the past decade Iโ€™ve dedicated a large section of my bookshelf to books about California: its wild side, its nature, and its scientific wonders.

There are surely many other books that could be included in this top ten list, but these are the finest Iโ€™ve come across in the years since returning to live in the state.They capture the extraordinary diversity of Californiaโ€™s landscapes and wildlife, found nowhere else on Earth, and many also explore issues and themes that hold deep importance for the state and its people. Although Iโ€™ve read some of these titles digitally, I love having many of them in print, because there are few things more satisfying than settling into a beach, a forest campsite, or a favorite chair at home with a beautifully made book in hand.


California Against the Sea: Visions for Our Vanishing Coastline by Rosanna Xia

I first discovered Rosanna Xiaโ€™s work through her stunning exposรฉ on the thousands of DDT barrels found dumped on the seafloor near Catalina Island. It remains one of the most shocking, and yet not technically illegal, environmental scandals in Californiaโ€™s history.

Her recent book, California Against the Sea: Visions for Our Vanishing Coastline, is a beautifully written and deeply reported look at how Californiaโ€™s coastal communities are confronting the realities of climate change and rising seas. Xia travels the length of the state, from Imperial Beach to Pacifica, weaving together science, policy, and personal stories to show how erosion, flooding, and climate change are already reshaping lives. What makes the book stand out is its relative balance; itโ€™s not a screed, nor naรฏvely hopeful. It nicely captures the tension between human settlement — our love and need to be near the ocean — and the coastโ€™s natural (and unnatural, depending on how you look at it) cycles of change.

Xia is at her best when exploring adaptation and equity. She reminds us that even if emissions stopped today, the ocean will keep rising, and that not all communities have equal means to respond. The stories of engineers, Indigenous leaders, and ordinary residents highlight how resilience and adaptation must be rooted in local realities. I was especially drawn to Xiaโ€™s account of the California Coastal Commission, a wildly controversial agency that wields immense power over the future of the shoreline. Yet it was the commission and its early champions, such as Peter Douglas, who ensured that Californiaโ€™s coast remained open and accessible to all, a decision I consider one of the greatest legislative achievements in modern conservation history.

Thoughtful, accessible, and rooted in the coast we all care about, California Against the Sea challenges us to ask a pressing question: how can we live wisely, and with perspective, at the edge of a changing world?

The High Sierra: A Love Story by Kim Stanley Robinson

Kim Stanley Robinsonโ€™s The High Sierra: A Love Story is an expansive, heartfelt tribute to Californiaโ€™s most iconic mountain range. Because of the Sierraโ€™s vast internal basins, which are missing from many of the worldโ€™s other great mountain ranges, Robinson argues they are among the best mountains on Earth. His point is hard to refute. He makes a convincing case that the Sierra Nevada may be the greatest range in the world, formed from the planetโ€™s largest single block of exposed granite and lifted over millions of years into its dramatic present shape.

Blending memoir, geology (my favorite part of the book), and adventure writing, Robinson chronicles his own decades of exploration in the Sierra Nevada while tracing the forces — glacial, tectonic, and emotional, that shaped both the landscape and his own life.

Considered one of our greatest living science fiction writers (Iโ€™ve read Red Mars — long, but superb — and am currently reading The Ministry for the Future — the opening chapter is gripping and terrifying), Robinson might seem an unlikely guide to the granite heights of California. Yet reading The High Sierra: A Love Story reveals how naturally his fascination with imagined worlds extends into this very real one. The drama of the range, with its light, vastness, and sculpted peaks and basins, feels like raw material for his other universes.

The Dreamt Land by Mark Arax

The Dreamt Land is a portrait of Californiaโ€™s Central Valley, where the control of water has defined everything from landscape to power (power in the form of hydroelectric energy and human control over who gets to shape and profit from the valleyโ€™s vast resources). Blending investigative journalism, history, and memoir, Arax explores how the stateโ€™s rivers, dams, and aqueducts turned desert into farmland and how that transformation came at immense ecological and social cost.

Iโ€™ve read several Arax books, but this one is my favorite. Heโ€™s one of the finest writers California has produced. He writes with passion and clarity, grounding his ideas in decades of firsthand experience with Californiaโ€™s land and water. His focus on the fertile Central Valley, where he grew up as a reporter and farmerโ€™s son, gives the book both intimacy and authority, revealing how decisions about water shape not just the landscape but the people who depend on it. There are heroes and villains, plenty of the latter, and all of them unmistakably real. Yet Araxโ€™s prose is so fluid and eloquent that youโ€™ll keep reading not only for the story, but for the sheer pleasure of his writing.

Assembling California by John McPhee (1993)

If youโ€™re at all fascinated by Californiaโ€™s wild geology — and it truly is wild, just ask any geologist — this classic from one of the finest nonfiction writers alive is a must-read. McPhee takes readers on a geological road-trip through California, from the uplifted peaks of the Sierra Nevada to the fault-riven terrain of the San Andreas zone. He teams up with UC Davis geologist Eldridge Moores to explain how oceanic plates, island arcs, and continental blocks collided over millions of years to โ€œassembleโ€ the landmass we now call California. His prose is classic McPhee: clean, vivid, perhaps sometimes overly technical, as he turns terms like โ€œophioliteโ€ and โ€œbatholithโ€ into aspects of a landscape you can picture and feel.

What makes the book especially rewarding, especially for someone interested in earth systems, mapping, and the deep time, is how McPhee seamlessly links everyday places with deep-time events. Youโ€™ll read about gold-rush mining camps and vineyard soils, but all of it is rooted in tectonics, uplift, erosion, and transformation. Iโ€™ve gotten some of my favorite stories here on California Curated from the pages of this book. It can be ponderous at times, but youโ€™ll not regret giving it a try.

The California Lands Trilogy by Obi Kaufman

The Forests of California (2020)

The Coasts of California (2022)

The Deserts of California (2023)

Obi Kaufmanโ€™s California Lands Trilogy is one of the most visually stunning and ambitious projects in California natural history publishing. Beginning with The Forests of California, the first of three volumes that reimagine the state not through its highways or cities but through its living systems, Kaufman invites readers to see California as a vast and interconnected organism, a place defined by its natural rhythms rather than human boundaries. Each book is filled with delicate watercolor maps and diagrams by the author himself. The result is part art book and part ecological manifesto, a celebration of the interconnectedness of Californiaโ€™s natural world. Kaufmanโ€™s talents as an artist are breathtaking. If he ever offered his original watercolors for sale, Iโ€™d be among the first in line to buy them. Taken together, the series forms a panoramic vision of the stateโ€™s natural environments.

That said, Kaufmanโ€™s books can be dense, filled with data, maps, and cross-references that reward slow reading more than quick browsing. If Iโ€™m honest, I tend to dip in and out of them, picking them up when Iโ€™m bored or need a break from the latest political bombshell. Every page offers something to linger over, whether itโ€™s a river system painted like a circulatory map or a meditation on the idea of rewilding. For anyone fascinated by Californiaโ€™s natural systems, all Kaufmanโ€™s Field Atlases are invaluable companions endlessly worth revisiting.

The Enduring Wild: A Journey Into Californiaโ€™s Public Lands by Josh Jackson

My first job out of college was with the Department of the Interior in Washington, D.C., by far by the nation’s largest land management agency. A big part of that work involved traveling to sites managed by Interior across the country. I came to understand just how vast Americaโ€™s public lands are and how much of that expanse, measured in millions of acres, is under the care of the Bureau of Land Management (BLM).

Josh Jackson takes readers on a road trip across Californiaโ€™s often overlooked public wilderness, focusing on the lands managed by the BLM, an agency once jokingly referred to as the Bureau of Livestock and Mining. He shows how these so-called โ€œleftover landsโ€ hold stories of geology, Indigenous presence, extraction, and conservation.

His prose and photography (he has a wonderful eye for landscapes) together invite the reader to slow down, look closely at the subtleties of desert mesas, sagebrush plains, and coastal bluffs, and reckon with what it means to protect places many people have never heard of. His use of the environmental psychology concept of โ€œplace attachmentโ€ struck a chord with me. The theory suggests that people form deep emotional and psychological bonds with natural places, connections that shape identity, memory, and a sense of belonging. As a frequent visitor to the Eastern Sierra, especially around Mammoth Lakes and Mono Lake, I was particularly drawn to Jacksonโ€™s chapter on that region. His account of the lingering impacts of the Mining Act of 1872, and how its provisions still allow for questionable practices today, driven by high gold prices, was eye-opening. I came away with new insights, which is always something I value in a book.

I should mention that I got my copy of the book directly from Josh, who lives not far from me in Southern California. We spent a few hours at a cafe in Highland Park talking about the value and beauty of public lands, and as I sat there flipping through the book, I couldnโ€™t help but acknowledge how striking it is. Part of that comes from Heyday Booksโ€™ exceptional attention to design and production. Heyday also publishes Obi Kaufmanโ€™s work and they remain one of Californiaโ€™s great independent publishers. But much my appreciation for the book also comes from from Jackson himself, whose photographs are simply outstanding.

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What makes this book especially compelling is its blend of adventure and stewardship. Jackson doesnโ€™t simply celebrate wildness; he also lays out the human and institutional connections that shape (and threaten) these public lands, from grazing rights to mining to climate-change impacts. Some readers may find the breadth of landscapes and stories a little ambitious for a first book, yet the richness of the journey and the accessibility of the writing make it a strong addition for anyone interested in Californiaโ€™s endless conflict over land use: what should be used for extraction and what should be preserved? While I donโ€™t fully agree with Jackson on the extent to which certain lands should be preserved, I still found the book a wonderful exploration of that question.

The Backyard Bird Chronicles by Amy Tan

Amy Tanโ€™s The Backyard Bird Chronicles is a charming and unexpectedly personal journal of bird-watching, set in the yard of Tanโ€™s Bay Area home. Tan is an excellent writer, as one would expect from a wildly successful novelist (The Joy Luck Club, among others). But she also brings a curiosity and wonder to the simple act of looking across oneโ€™s backyard. I loved it. Who among us in California doesnโ€™t marvel at the sheer diversity of birds we see every day? And who hasnโ€™t wondered about the secret lives they lead? A skilled illustrator as well as a writer, she studies the birds she observes by sketching them, using art as a way to closely connect with the natural world around her.

What begins as a peaceful retreat during the Covid catastrophe becomes an immersive odyssey of observation and drawing. Tan captures the comings and goings of more than sixty bird species, sketches their lively antics, as she reflects on how these small winged neighbors helped calm her inner world when the larger world felt unsteady.

My only quibble is that I was hoping for more scientific depth; the book is more of a meditation than a field study. Still, for anyone who loves birds, sketching, or the quiet beauty of everyday nature, it feels like a gentle invitation to slow down and truly look.

โ€œTrees in Paradiseโ€ by Jared Farmer

California is the most botanically diverse state in the U.S. (by a long shot), home to more than 6,500 native plant species, about a third of which exist nowhere else on Earth. Jared Farmerโ€™s Trees in Paradise: A California History follows four key tree species in California: the redwood, eucalyptus, orange, and palm. Through these examples, Farmer reveals how Californians have reshaped the stateโ€™s landscape and its identity. Itโ€™s rich in scientific and historical detail. I have discovered several story ideas in the book for California Curated and learned a great deal about the four trees that we still see everywhere in the California landscape.

In telling the story of these four trees (remember, both the eucalyptus and the palm were largely brought here from other places), Farmer avoids easy sentimentality or harsh judgment, instead exploring how the creation of a โ€œparadiseโ€ in California came with ecological costs and profoundly shaped the stateโ€™s identity. While the book concentrates on those four tree categories, its detailed research and insight make it a compelling read for anyone interested in the stateโ€™s environment, history, and the ways people shape and are shaped by land.

Camp Pendleton’s Wild Landscape as a Natural Refuge

The Unlikely Intersection of Military Training and Coastal Preservation

An endangered species sign is posted along the coastline on Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, California,
March 29, 2022. (U.S. Marine Corps photo by Lance Cpl. Nataly Espitia)

Driving along the Pacific Coast Highway, much of the Southern California coastline is a continuous stretch of developmentโ€”expensive homes, commercial malls, and highways and railways built right up against the ocean. Then, unexpectedly, you reach Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, a vast, largely undeveloped expanse that starkly contrasts with the urban sprawl. This uninterrupted stretch of coastline offers a rare glimpse into what the region once looked like, a reminder of Californiaโ€™s natural beauty before widespread development.

Weโ€™re not suggesting that coastal development is inherently bad, but having stretches of coastline that preserve the coastโ€™s natural state offers a valuable reminder of what it once looked like. One drawback of the base is that, as an active military installation, public access is highly restricted. However, this limited access has helped preserve the coastline in ways that might not have been possible otherwise. (Another well-known and much more accessible area with restricted development lies just to the north at Crystal Cove State Park in Orange County, a protected stretch of land established in 1979 that remains open to the public. It features some of the finest beaches in Southern California – IMHO.)

California least terns (Ernesto Gomez, Public Domain)

Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton spans approximately 125,000 acres, including more than 17 miles of coastline in northwestern San Diego County. With less than 20% of the land developed, the base serves as a critical ecological buffer between the densely urbanized regions to its north and south. The base has served as a critical training ground for the U.S. Marine Corps since 1942. However, its restricted access and limited development have inadvertently preserved some of Southern Californiaโ€™s last remaining wild coastal terrain. As a result, the base has become an unlikely sanctuary for a rich array of plant and animal species, many of which are endangered or rare.

The base’s diverse ecosystems offer a window into California’s historical and biological landscapes prior to extensive development. Camp Pendleton’s coastal dunes, estuaries, chaparral, riparian woodlands, and sage scrub provide a range of habitats that are now scarce elsewhere. The base is home to 19 federally listed species, including the California least tern, a seabird that relies on the baseโ€™s protected beaches for nesting. The Santa Margarita River, one of the last free-flowing rivers in Southern California, cuts through the base, providing essential water resources for both wildlife and plant communities.

โ€œCamp Pendleton is a biodiversity hotspot,” Melissa Vogt, a conservation law enforcement officer with Environmental Security said in a statement. “If it weren’t for Camp Pendleton existing, all this coastline would be condos and hotels.โ€

Camp Pendleton

Because of its ecological significance, Camp Pendleton has become a prime location for scientific study. Botanists have discovered species like the Pendleton button-celery (Eryngium pendletonense), a plant found only within the base. The relatively undisturbed nature of the land allows researchers to examine Southern Californiaโ€™s native ecosystems as they once were, offering insights into habitat conservation and restoration efforts beyond the baseโ€™s borders. There are few places left like it along the Southern California coast. Among other species benefiting from these efforts is the coast horned lizard (Phrynosoma blainvillii), a reptile that relies on sandy soils and native chaparral for shelter and food. The baseโ€™s protected status has helped sustain this lizardโ€™s population, which has declined in many other parts of its range due to habitat loss.

Arroyo toad – Anaxyrus californicus (US Fish and Wildlife Service)

The baseโ€™s management practices have contributed to the survival of species once thought to be on the brink of extinction. One of the most notable examples is the Pacific pocket mouse, a tiny rodent that was believed extinct until a population was rediscovered within Camp Pendleton in the 1990s. Conservationists, including the San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance, have since reintroduced captive-bred individuals to increase their numbers in protected areas on the base.

Similarly, the baseโ€™s wetlands and riparian zones serve as critical habitat for the southwestern willow flycatcher, an endangered songbird, as well as the arroyo toad, which depends on unspoiled riverbanks for breeding. Without the baseโ€™s restrictions on urban development, many of these species might have disappeared entirely from Southern California.

Lake O’Neill, located on Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, California, is a popular destination for fishing and camping and is a home to a wide variety of wildlife. (U.S. Marine Corps photo by Lance Cpl. Nataly Espitia)

Recognizing the baseโ€™s ecological value, Camp Pendleton has taken significant steps toward wildlife preservation through proactive environmental management. The Environmental Security Department has worked closely with researchers to document biodiversity, implement habitat restoration efforts, and ensure compliance with the Endangered Species Act. A key part of these efforts includes protecting breeding grounds and restoring sensitive habitats, such as the coastal dune systems that support the California least tern and the western snowy plover. Entomologists from the San Diego Natural History Museum have conducted extensive surveys on the base, cataloging insect and spider species across six distinct vegetation zones. These studies not only provide valuable data on the health of Southern Californiaโ€™s ecosystems but also help track how climate change is affecting biodiversity in the region.

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โ€œFor any wildlife biologist thatโ€™s working with a threatened or endangered species, the ultimate goal is getting the animal off the list and making sure the species is doing well,โ€ Nate Redetzke, Environmental Security wildlife biologist, said on the official US Marines Website.

The base has also implemented a long-term natural resource management plan that balances military training with conservation efforts. It may seem unlikely for troop transport vehicles to operate alongside protected coastal wilderness, but the balance between military use and conservation has largely been seen as a success.

Western snowy plover (Wikipedia)

The efforts include extensive land management practices such as erosion control, invasive species removal, and water quality monitoring to sustain Camp Pendletonโ€™s ecosystems. In recent years, conservation teams have also focused on restoring the estuary habitats along the Santa Margarita River to enhance biodiversity and ensure the resilience of species that depend on these wetlands. This includes seasonal restrictions in certain areas to protect breeding wildlife, habitat restoration projects, and collaborations with state and federal agencies to support species recovery programs. Again, it’s complicated, but it seems to be working. These efforts were recognized when the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service awarded Camp Pendleton the Military Conservation Partner Award in 2022 for its leadership in environmental stewardship.

Remarkably, the base is also home to a small herd of American bison, which have roamed Camp Pendleton for decades. Originally introduced in the 1970s as part of a now-defunct recreational program, these bison have since adapted to the landscape, living largely undisturbed within the baseโ€™s remote areas. While not native to the region, their presence adds another layer of ecological interest to this protected land, demonstrating how species can persist in unexpected places.

An American bison herd roams the hills on Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, California.
(Marine Corps Photo by Lance Cpl. Andrew Cortez)

Camp Pendletonโ€™s example demonstrates that large-scale conservation can happen in unexpected places. While military training remains its primary function, the base has unintentionally preserved one of the last remaining stretches of undeveloped Southern California coastline. In doing so, it has provided scientists with a unique opportunity to study and protect a wide range of species that might have otherwise been lost.

Of course, Camp Pendleton isnโ€™t the only place where government protection for reasons other than conservation has preserved a remarkably untouched stretch of Californiaโ€™s coastline. Vandenberg Space Force Base, further north, restricts public access due to its role in military space launches, but in doing so, it has safeguarded miles of rugged shoreline and sensitive habitats. Similarly, Point Reyes National Seashore, though managed primarily for recreation and historical preservation, remains a rare example of undeveloped coastal wilderness in the Bay Area. Off the coast, some of the Channel Islands, particularly those further out but within Channel Islands National Park, have remained largely untouched due to federal protection, while others have suffered from past military activity and invasive species. Like Camp Pendleton, these areas demonstrate how federal oversight, whether for military, scientific, or historical purposes, has unintentionally maintained some of Californiaโ€™s last truly wild coastal spaces.

Laurel Sumac, the Resilient Beauty of Southern California’s Chaparral

Laurel sumac in the San Gabriel Mountains (Erik Olsen)

Here’s another article exploring some of California’s native plants. With a remarkable abundance of flora, California is home to over 6,500 species that play a vital role in shaping its diverse and iconic landscapes.

While hiking through the chaparral-covered hills of Southern California, from the Santa Monica to the San Bernardino and San Gabriel Mountains, youโ€™ll encounter a rich variety of plants, each adapted to thrive in the harsh, dry conditions. Some of them will inevitably be foreign, as California’s mild Mediterranean climate is a perfect incubator for invasive species. But there are many indigenous plants (aka: endemic) that are touchstones of resilience, survivors that thrive here and help make the California chaparral ecosystem incredibly diverse and hearty. Among these is the laurel sumac, a stalwart of the coastal sage scrub, its waxy, aromatic leaves adapted to withstand the sun-baked hillsides and dry seasons that define so much of Californiaโ€™s natural landscape.

Laurel sumac (Malosma laurina) is a large, rounded evergreen shrub or small tree that can grow up to 20 feet tall and wide. When in bloom (late spring through summer), it gives off a strong, aromatic scent that can be very pleasant. The plant is native to southern California and Baja California, and is also found on the southern Channel Islands.

The plant is characterized by lance-shaped leaves with reddish veins and stems, adding a touch of color to the landscape. Laurel sumac has a unique ability to curl its leaves upward when exposed to extreme heat. This reduces the surface area exposed to the sun, minimizing water loss and preventing overheating. This trait has earned the plant the nickname “taco plant,” as its leaves often fold up like a taco shell. The clusters of small white flowers that bloom at the tips of its branches resemble lilac blossoms. After blooming, the small, creamy-white flowers develop into clusters of tiny, reddish-brown, berry-like fruits known as drupes. Each drupe contains a single seed and is covered with a thin, leathery skin.

From a hike in the San Gabriel Mountains. Most of the large clumpy bushes are Laurel sumac (Erik Olsen)

Although named “laurel” for its resemblance to bay laurel, laurel sumac actually belongs to the cashew family (Anacardiaceae). This family includes other well-known plants like poison oak, mango, and pistachio, highlighting the diverse characteristics within this botanical group. Laurel sumac is a vital species in the coastal sage scrub and chaparral ecosystems, offering habitat and food for wildlife. Its berries are particularly enjoyed by songbirds, including warblers. The plant blooms from late spring to early summer, producing clusters of small, white flowers that attract various pollinators, including bees and butterflies.

After flowering, it produces small, reddish-brown fruits that are a food source for birds and other wildlife. Interestingly, the shrubโ€™s ability to thrive in the arid conditions of Southern California, combined with its distinctive red stems and fragrant blooms, make it a key contributor to the regionโ€™s natural beauty and biodiversity.

Laurel sumac along a trail in the San Gabriel Mountains (Erik Olsen)

The plant is amazingly drought-tolerant, with deep roots that allow it to access water during dry periods, making it a critical species in fire-prone environments. In fact, its ability to quickly resprout after fire is one reason it’s so prevalent in chaparral communities.

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Laurel sumac is also notable for its role in traditional indigenous practices. Native peoples of the region used various parts of the plant for medicinal purposes, including treating skin conditions and respiratory ailments. Known as โ€œektiiโ€ by the Kumeyaay people, Laurel sumac held a prominent place in their traditional practices. The Kumeyaay are indigenous to the region that spans southern California, including San Diego County, and northern Baja California, Mexico. After childbirth, a tea or wash made from the plant was used for its soothing and medicinal properties, demonstrating its role in maternal care.

Laurel sumac with its fragrant white blossoms.

Beyond its medicinal uses, the sturdy wood of laurel sumac was utilized in construction, reflecting its practical value to the Kumeyaay. In a modern twist, the dried flower clusters of the plant have found a niche in model railroading, where enthusiasts often paint them and use them as miniature trees to create realistic landscapes.

Laurel sumac is just one of the many incredible native plant species that contribute to California’s rich biodiversity. Its abundance in some of the southern mountain ranges makes it a quintessential part of the landscape and an essential topic when exploring native flora. Stay tuned as we continue to highlight more species that make California such a unique and extraordinary place.

Californiaโ€™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, youโ€™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 severalโ€ฆnerd alert!). It turns out theyโ€™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.

โ€œItโ€™s impressive how rapidly these vertebrate species can evolve. In a matter of a handful of years, we can find some pretty significant changes,โ€ 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.

โ€œWe want to know, does a city make you evolve?โ€ asks Yeh. โ€œDo 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?โ€

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 Galรกpagos 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.

โ€œI think it’s now really considered a model vertebrate system for urban evolution,โ€ 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 itโ€™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.

โ€œWe 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.โ€

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; itโ€™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 โ€œallows them to keep eating even when we walk by,โ€ says Yeh.

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

Studying junco evolution isnโ€™t just a scientific curiosity. It has real conservation stakes. Things havenโ€™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)

โ€œJuncos historically were migratory birds. The ones that live in the mountains still are. But in the urban environments, we see them year-round,โ€ says Dr. Ellie Diamant, Visiting Assistant Professor at Bard College. โ€œSo the benefits are gone for the longer-distance flight, but there seems to be more benefit for these short wings.โ€ 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, itโ€™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 juncoโ€™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 weโ€™re putting on natural ecosystems. In other words, itโ€™s not all good, and itโ€™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 weโ€™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 isnโ€™t some distant thing beyond the city limits. Itโ€™s here, threaded into the daily patterns of urban life.