Tag: Marine

Author interview with Ursula Clare Franklin: Mission Penguin

Mission Penguin book cover showing a King penguin and Gentoo Penguin on a beach.Following the loss of her husband, Ursula Franklin embarked on a mission to see and photograph every species of penguin in their natural habitat. In this breathtaking book, join Ursula on expeditions to some of the most remote places on earth, from the Falklands to Tristan da Cunha and Antipodes Islands, in search of these much-loved birds. Interspersed with stories from Ursula’s adventures, each chapter explores a different species of penguin, detailing their identifying features, the ever-increasing threats they’re facing, and the conservation efforts needed to ensure future generations can experience the wonder of these animals.

Ursula Franklin is a keen wildlife photographer who grew up in Yorkshire, and is now based in Somerset. She developed a keen interest in photography when she was a child and her wonderful husband supported her passion until his sudden death in 2012. As a way to process her grief and heal, alongside her husband’s constant encouragement for her to ‘do something with her photography’, Mission Penguin was born.

We recently had the opportunity to talk to Ursula about her expedition, how she thinks we can we work to protect these vital species in the future, her favourite memories throughout this journey and more.

Plus, enter our prize draw to be in with the chance of winning one of four exclusive Mission Penguin prints here.

Having travelled around the world and seen every species of penguin in every habitat, which species surprised you the most and why? 

Like many people, I had always associated penguins with snow, so it was amazing to discover that some species breed in forests, others in the desert and one species even at the equator.  The species that really surprised me, however, and for a totally different reason, was the Royal Penguin. This species breeds on Macquarie Island, and in the north of the island are the rusted remains of huge digestors which were once used to extract oil firstly from seals and then when they ran out, penguins. Millions of King and Royal Penguins were slaughtered leaving just a few thousand birds when the barbaric practice was finally stopped. Having suffered years of persecution by man, I marvelled at how trusting the birds were. As I sat on the beach, groups of Royal Penguins waddled up to me, inquisitively studying my boot laces, camera bag and equipment. They were so curious and seemed utterly fearless. It was hard to imagine humankind betraying such trust. Luckily, over the last 100 years, their numbers have steadily increased and in 2022 they were finally taken off the list of near-threatened species (IUCN red list). Hopefully they will continue to increase despite the human-induced climate change crisis.   

Royal penguins waddling across Sandy Bay, Macquarie Island.
Royal penguins waddling across Sandy Bay, Macquarie Island.

You were lucky enough to witness the full, daily lifecycle of a number of penguin colonies by watching them from dawn until dusk, and I particularly loved the photographs of the Gentoo penguins on Saunders Beach at sunset. What does the typical day in the life of a penguin look like?

A day in the life of a penguin varies hugely depending on the time of year, especially during the breeding season, or when moulting. At other times of year, the birds spend their time foraging in the open ocean. During their annual moult, which usually lasts around 3 weeks, they are no longer waterproof so cannot go into the ocean to feed – instead they must stay on land living solely off their fat reserves. The breeding season is when they spend time on both land and sea. For most species, males and females share incubation of the egg/s and often take it in turns to go foraging to feed the hungry chick/s whilst the other parent stays to protect it/them.  With some species, as the chicks get older, they are left in a crèche, or some stay in a burrow, allowing both parents to go to the ocean to collect food for their increasing appetites. The birds often leave at dawn when foraging, and the length of time they are away depends on how far they must swim to find food. For some species, warming ocean temperatures have shifted prey populations further from the colony leading to chick starvation and mass breeding failure. When the parents do return with food, some species engage their older chicks in long food chases before finally stopping to feed them. This is done to build up the strength of the chicks prior to fledging and is hilarious to watch. The adults then stay with their chicks at the colony overnight before the whole process starts again early the next morning. 

A Gentoo penguin colony at sunset, Saunders Island, the Falklands.
A Gentoo penguin colony at sunset, Saunders Island, the Falklands.

You travelled around the world and have seen so many different places as a result of this project – what was your favourite memory and why?

This is such a hard question. I could say the very beginning of the mission on the Antarctic Peninsula with the sighting of my first penguin – this was a Chinstrap Penguin and has since become my favourite species, probably because the black strap under their chin makes it look as if they are smiling. Or I could go to the very end of the mission at Snow Hill Island with the Emperor Penguin colony, which was like being on the film set of the movie Happy feet and a very fitting and emotional accomplishment of Mission Penguin.  

My favourite travel destination, however, is the Falkland Islands. With fewer than 4000 people, beautiful coastlines and over one million penguins of five species I’m sure you can understand why. My favourite island is Saunders Island and my favourite location there is ‘the neck’. The accommodation is very basic and although small can technically sleep 8 in 4 sets of narrow bunk beds. Incredibly, on my last visit, my friend Hazel and I were the only occupants – apart from the penguins of course! What a joy and privilege to be the only humans sharing their world and a memory that will stay with me forever.

The Neck, Saunders Island, The Falklands.
The Neck, Saunders Island, The Falklands.

Having witnessed first-hand the negative effects of both climate change and human activity on penguin colonies, and their respective habitats, how can we work to protect these vital species in the future? 

Penguins are key indicator species for the health of our oceans and the effects of global warming. Although there are no penguins naturally occurring in the Northern Hemisphere, our everyday actions here will ultimately filter down to the Southern Hemisphere and affect these animals. 

One of the most threatened penguins is the African Penguin, and research suggests that this species could become extinct in the wild by 2035 unless we act now. Whilst we have little influence on African governments regarding marine ‘no-take’ zones, limiting coastal development, (oil refineries etc) can still help. For example, all of us can reduce our use of plastics (especially single use), and switch to renewable energy sources. 

For more direct and immediate help we can also sponsor penguin nest boxes. African Penguins naturally lay their eggs in burrows which are dug out of layers of guano (bird poo!) laid down over hundreds of years. In the 1800’s most of this guano was collected and shipped to the UK to be used as fertiliser. As a result, there has been a 99% decline in the population over the last 100 years. As land temperatures continue to rise, penguins now nesting out in the open air are either dying from hyperthermia or abandoning their nests to save themselves, leading to mass breeding failure. Carefully researched and crafted nest-boxes that replicate the conditions of a guano burrow are proving effective – to help visit the Saving Penguins website. 

A shortage of suitable nesting sites mean breeding African penguins are exposed to the full heat of the sun often with disastrous consequences.
A shortage of suitable nesting sites mean breeding African penguins are exposed to the full heat of the sun often with disastrous consequences.

Photographing every species of penguin is no small feat, especially alongside a full-time job! What were some of the biggest challenges you faced and what did you learn along the way? 

When I announced to a friend that I was going to photograph every species of penguin in their natural habitat, I had no idea how many species there were or where they could be found. My research took me to places that I had never even heard of and to say many of them were ‘off the main tourist route’ would be an understatement! Simply getting to the required and often incredibly remote locations was definitely the first challenge. Many of these are also found in the roughest oceans in the world, and I suffer dreadfully from sea sickness. Needless to say, I was often very unwell but even that could not detract from the awe and wonder of these amazing expeditions. Once at the location, sometimes I only managed fleeting glimpses of just a few penguins of that species so not many photographs, but I appreciate how very lucky I was to actually see and photograph every penguin species on the first attempt. 

The weather also presented significant challenges (especially the wind), and trying to photograph from a Zodiac (Rigid Inflatable Boat) while being tossed around in large swells was at times nigh on impossible. I also needed to keep my equipment warm in Antarctica and dry in the humidity of the Galápagos. Sunshine, although lovely in itself, also made photographing black and white birds more difficult than normal in terms of achieving correct exposure. I certainly learned to tolerate imperfections but also became a better photographer along the way. I also witnessed firsthand how tenacious and resilient penguins are – characteristics that we can all learn from. 

The strong wind blowing the crests of these Moseley’s rockhopper penguins also made photographing them more challenging.
The strong wind blowing the crests of these Moseley’s rockhopper penguins also made photographing them more challenging.

Mission Penguin came to fruition as a result of loss and grief, and throughout the book I found it heartwarming to read about the healing effects of your expeditions. How important do you think nature is in healing from grief, and what are the benefits of spending time exploring the natural world? 

Nature is indeed an incredible healer. I have lovely memories of my mother taking us out on nature walks when we were young as we didn’t have much money, and nature was all around us and free! I think from that age I learned to appreciate the wonder of nature and delight in simple things, so when grief struck, getting out in nature and reconnecting with life and beauty was essential to my healing. Nature stimulates all of our senses which certainly helped me to feel fully alive even in the context of death. What inescapable joy to hear the birds singing, see the dappled light in a woodland glade, smell the flowers, taste the salty sea air, and hug a tree! Being immersed in the natural world really helps to put things into perspective and to feel part of something much greater than ourselves. In nature I feel fully grounded which gives me an inner peace and the strength to keep going, one step at a time. 

Southern rockhopper penguins, Pebble Island, the Falklands.
Southern rockhopper penguins, Pebble Island, the Falklands.

What’s taking up your time at the moment? Are you working on any other projects or planning any upcoming expeditions that we can hear about? 

Following the completion of Mission Penguin I have spent more time delighting in the natural world on my doorstep. In the last couple of years, I have finally taken up gardening, which my husband would have found hysterical having tried to persuade me all our married life! My focus however is gardening with wildlife in mind, and I think we would have had very different definitions of a ‘weed’! I am also rewilding one large area and quickly learned the hard way that rewilding is not the same as letting things go wild! I am still taking lots of nature photographs and readers can see more of my images here.  

As well as writing the book, I started giving talks on Mission Penguin to local groups and this quickly expanded to other topics as they keep inviting me back for more. I now have about 6 talks in my repertoire so that is keeping me busy as well as continuing with my singing – another fabulous activity for wellbeing.   

King penguins returning from a fishing trip.
King penguins returning from a fishing trip.

I am a firm believer in making the most of every moment. We only have one life, so live it well. Fill it with friends, joy, laughter – and of course, penguins.

Enter our competition to be in with the chance of winning one of four exclusive Mission Penguin prints signed by author Ursula Franklin here – good luck!

Mission Penguin book cover showing a King penguin and Gentoo Penguin on a beach.

Mission Penguin is available from our online bookstore here.

Book Review: Ocean Life in the Time of Dinosaurs

The front cover shows a large marine dinosaur jumping out of the ocean to eat a large flying dinosaur. ***** A richly illustrated entry-level book

In this review, I am revisiting the spectacular diversity of marine reptiles that flourished in the planet’s oceans and waterways during the time of the dinosaurs. After having gone without popular titles on the subject for almost two decades since Richard Ellis’s Sea Dragons in 2005, suddenly we have three. Last year (April–May) I reviewed The Princeton Field Guide to Mesozoic Sea Reptiles and Ancient Sea Reptiles, and mentioned that this book was in the works. Ocean Life in the Time of Dinosaurs was originally published in French in 2021 as La Mer au Temps des Dinosaures by Belin/Humensis and has been translated into English by Mark Epstein. Technically speaking that makes it the first of this recent crop, though the English translation was only published in November 2023, after the aforementioned two works. It brings together four French palaeontologists and one natural history illustrator for a graphics-heavy introduction. So, what is in this book, and how does it compare to the other titles?

Ocean Life in the Time of Dinosaurs breaks down into two halves. The obligatory first short chapter introduces the state of the world during the Mesozoic Era 252–66 million years ago (mya), specifically the position of the continents (the palaeogeography) and the various extinction crises by which we divide this time span. After this, the first half is a very long chapter 2 that discusses all the major and minor groups: the “big three” (ichthyosaurs, plesiosaurs, and mosasaurs); the groups with survivors today such as the crocodylomorphs and sea turtles; and lesser-known groups such as hupehsuchians and thalattosaurs. The second half of the book consists of five chronological chapters that help you put all this diversity into some sort of logical order. This starts with life’s first coy attempts at reptiles-returning-to-the-sea in the Palaeozoic Era, the main event of the Mesozoic in three chapters (the Triassic, Jurassic, and Cretaceous), and the Cenozoic Era in which the survivors of the K–Pg extinction continued and sometimes thrived.

The book’s second half stood out to me for two reasons. First, it helps prevent the same rookie mistake that is often made regarding dinosaurs: they did not all live at the same time. This may sound incredibly obvious and yet is easily and frequently forgotten. Where marine reptiles are concerned, a good example of this is that the ichthyosaurs evolved ~252 mya and went extinct ~90 mya, while the mosasaurs evolved ~100 mya and went extinct 66 mya at the K–Pg boundary, the two groups thus overlapping for “only” 10 million years. Turtles and crocodylomorphs survived the K–Pg extinction and positively flourished, though some groups subsequently went extinct and left no living descendants, such as the dryosaurids (a crocodylomorph lineage, extinct ~40 mya). The second reason I liked this chronological section is that it is largely told through the lens of key fossil localities around the globe (here, among others, Monte San Giorgio, Holzmaden, and the Oxford Clay). Though their names are often familiar and each of these deposits offers a unique view of a certain ecosystem at a certain time, they rarely get much attention themselves. The authors here provide just that little bit of extra information on their geography and stratigraphy, the history of their discovery and exploitation, and the palaeoenvironment that can be deduced from them.

Ocean Life in the Time of Dinosaurs is richly illustrated in full colour with photos, diagrams, and paleoart by Alain Bénéteau, including single and double-page spreads. There are several cladograms mapped onto timelines, with the simplified phylogeny of crocodylomorphs on page 69 particularly useful in visualising the uncertain placement of thalattosuchians. Drawings show unique anatomical adaptations, explaining e.g. the evolution of turtle shells. The text is regularly interspersed with boxes discussing notable species or concepts such as proposed forms of swimming or adaptation of bones to life underwater. In short, the visual presentation of this book is outstanding.

I normally prefer to review each book on its own merits, but given that we now have two richly illustrated introductory books, there is no avoiding the mosasaur in the room. How does Ocean Life in the Time of Dinosaurs stack up against Darren Naish’s Ancient Sea Reptiles? As I also observe about his Dinopedia, Naish is particularly interested in taxonomy and species diversity. Whereas the discussion of the different groups here takes up 55 pages in chapter 2, Naish does this in 132 pages and six chapters. He goes into more detail on taxonomic conundrums and for most groups discusses more species. What the French quartet here adds are the five chronological chapters, extending their coverage of evolutionary events to before and after the Mesozoic. As mentioned, they also give more detail on key fossil sites whereas Naish briefly mentions some of these in his chapter 1. My impression is that palaeontology buffs will want to get both books, despite the inevitable overlap. If, however, you are looking to buy just one book then Ocean Life in the Time of Dinosaurs is the most entry-level of the two, while Ancient Sea Reptiles provides more detail (and in that scenario would be my book of choice). My original observation regarding Greg Paul’s The Princeton Field Guide to Mesozoic Sea Reptiles, that it is more of a reference work to be consulted after either of these books, still holds.

The front cover shows a large marine dinosaur jumping out of the ocean to eat a large flying dinosaur.

Ocean Life in the Time of Dinosaurs is available from our online bookstore.

The NHBS Guide to UK Shore Crabs

A charismatic highlight of any rock-pooling session, crabs are both diverse and wonderful. Here we have a selection of the most common crabs in the UK, detailing their habitats and how to identify them. 

Velvet Swimming Crab (Necora puber) 

Image by Guy F via Flickr

Conservation status: Common, non-threatened. 

Where to find them: The species is widespread throughout the UK and can be found year-round on rocky shores at low water. They are found more frequently on sheltered shores and prefer rocky substrates.  

Shell Width: Up to 10cm.  

ID: Also known as the devil crab, the Velvet Swimming Crab has short hairs covering its body, giving the animal a velvety appearance. The crab is blue in colour, but is covered by a reddish-brown pubescence masking the overall hue – they do, however, have visible blue lines on their legs, and blue tips on their claws. The carapace is flattened and has five pointed ridges on either side of the eyes. A fast-moving and aggressive crab, it has distinctive, bright red eyes that give it its alternative name. Pincers are of equal size, and the rear legs are flattened to be used as paddles.  

 

Edible Crab (Cancer pagurus) 

Image by Guy F via Flickr

Conservation status: Common, non-threatened. 

Where to find them: Edible Crabs can be found year-round on rocky shores across the UK. The species is often found hidden under rocks and boulders but can also be found on mixed coarse ground and on muddy sand offshore.  

Shell width: 10-25cm, averaging around 15cm.  

ID: A large species, the Edible Crab is also known as the brown crab for its colour – they can be brown to reddish-brown, bearing white patches and young specimens can have a purple-brown carapace. They have a thick, oval-shaped shell with a distinctive ‘pie crust’ edge. Also recognised by the black tips to their claws.  

 

Spiny Spider Crab (Maja brachydactyla)  

Image by Guy F via Flickr

Conservation status: Common, non-threatened. 

Where to find them: Spiny Spider Crabs, also known as European spider crabs, can be found from January to December on rocky areas. They are common on the south and west coasts, but are largely absent from northern England, Scotland and the North Sea.  

Shell width: Up to 20cm. 

ID: Known to be the largest spider crab in Britain and Ireland, they are instantly recognisable for their long legs resembling a spider. They have a distinctively spiky carapace, often covered with algae giving it a hairy, green appearance. The shell has an oval shape, broader at the back and narrower at the front. It has longer, more pronounced spines on the border of the shell, and the rest is covered by smaller spines. They are mostly orange in colour, but have been found in red, yellow or brown varieties.  They have two distinct frontal spines which are sandwiched by two small eyes. The legs are covered in hair, with the first pair bearing small claws.  

 

Common Hermit Crab (Pagurus bernhardus) 

Image by Guy F via Flickr

Conservation status: Common, non-threatened. 

Where to find them: Common Hermit Crabs can be found year-round on rocky shores and sandy substrates along the UK coast. They are most easily found in rock pools at low tide, particularly after storms and turbulent weather, where they can be dislodged and are more easily visible.  

Shell width: Varies according to body size, which can measure up to 4cm in length. 

ID: The largest and most common of the 15 hermit crab species, these crabs live inside the empty shells of sea snails, commonly whelks and periwinkles. Their body is reddish-brown in colour, with a larger right pincer. Their claws are strong, and are covered in uniformly distributed granules, with two rows of larger granulations starting at the base of the claw, converging towards the middle. The species is associated with Calliactis parasitica, a sea anemone which lives on their shell in a symbiotic relationship.  

 

Shore Crab (Carcinus maenas) 

Image by Guy F via Flickr

Conservation status: Common, non-threatened. 

Where to find them: Shore Crabs are found year-round in rockpools. They may also be found while crabbing in shallow waters and are particularly abundant in estuaries and salt marshes.  

Shell width: Up to 9cm. 

ID: The species is slightly green in colour, but can also be found with orange and red carapaces and yellowish spots on the abdomen – varied colouration can be attributed to life cycle stages, and juvenile Shore Crabs specifically can have significant variance in colour. The broad carapace has five teeth on each side of the shell, and three scalloped lobes between the eyes.  

 

Masked Crab (Corystes cassivelaunus)  

Image by Guy F via Flickr

Conservation status: Common, non-threatened. 

Where to find them: A small burrowing crab, the Masked Crab can be found buried in sandy substrates on the lower shore. They are found along most of the British coastline and are particularly abundant in the south and west of the UK. 

Shell width: Up to 4cm. 

ID: Masked Crabs have an elongated oval carapace with long antennae, often the size of their body. Their colour can range from reddish brown to yellow and the lateral margin of the carapace has four distinct spines. The claws are twice the length of the carapace, although females have smaller pincers.  

 

Broad-clawed Porcelain Crab (Porcellana platycheles) 

Image by Guy F via Flickr

Conservation status: Common, non-threatened. 

Where to find them: Can be found January to December across the UK, although with sporadic distribution. They can be found under rocks and small boulders on rocky shores.  

Shell width: 1.5–1.8cm. 

ID: A small crab covered with long hairs, the Porcelain Crab can be grey to greenish-brown with an off-white underside. They have large, broad front claws that appear to be slightly flattened and two long antennae. The fifth pair of legs are smaller and often concealed, resulting in the illusion of only three pairs of walking legs. Due to its size and impressive camouflage, this species can be hard to spot.  

It can be truly fascinating to sift through rock pools, finding the weird and wonderful creatures that our environment has to offer, but it is important to remember best practices when investigating our wildlife. To look for crabs safely, approach them from behind to avoid pincers, opt for a net for safe retrieval and hold the crab firmly, without squeezing, to ensure that it does not fall whilst handling. When you are finished, remember to leave everything where you found it, replace any rocks that you may have turned over during your search and return crabs to the same body of water you found them in.  

Book review: The Killer Whale Journals

The Killer Whale Journals Book Cover.***** A balanced and non-judgemental account of people’s differing attitudes

As some of the world’s largest predators, orcas are both loved and loathed, though these sentiments sometimes come from unexpected corners. Danish marine biologist Hanne Strager has studied orcas and other whales for some four decades, working with a wide range of people. In The Killer Whale Journals, she plumbs the complexities and nuances of people’s attitudes, writing a balanced, fair, and thought-provoking insider’s account. Given the preponderance of research and books on Pacific Northwest orcas, hers is a refreshingly cosmopolitan perspective, taking in the experiences of people past and present in many other parts of the world.

Strager’s involvement with whale research started on a whim when she volunteered as a cook on a small research vessel going around the Lofoten Islands in northern Norway. This was in the 1980s and would, with some interruptions, be the start of a career in research and education that lasts to this day. Though she is fully qualified to write a scholarly work on orca biology, this is not that book. Rather, this is “a patchwork of stories I have collected over my years on the ocean about our relationship with the biggest predator on Earth” (p. 17). And what a wide-ranging, multi-hued patchwork it has become!

Born Free by Christopher Michel, via flickr.
Born Free by Christopher Michel, via flickr.

Some of these relationships are as you would expect. In her early days in Norway, both the whalers and fishermen she spoke to disliked orcas, considering them a pest species that frightens away other whales and eats all the herring. Similarly expected is the strong respect expressed by First Nations people in British Columbia. Other people hold attitudes you would not expect, breaking with stereotypes. When Scottish whalers emigrated to Twofold Bay, New South Wales, Australia in the mid-1800s, they continued the cross-species relationship established by the Aboriginal Thawa tribe, leading to an unlikely, century-long alliance between orcas and whalers. At the other end of the spectrum, Strager visits Inuit hunters in Greenland who continue to rely on the sea for their sustenance. They kill orcas on sight, convinced they eat narwhals. However, data from the Greenland Institute of Natural Resources do not back up this assertion: orcas rarely share the waters with narwhals, nor have narwhal remains been found in their stomachs. Hunting organizations disagree and stick to their narrative, continuing to kill orcas even though the meat is unsuitable for human consumption due to high levels of bioaccumulated pollutants. Strager is loathe to judge these people given their hospitality and willingness to talk to her, but she candidly admits that she is left troubled.

What further contributes to the book’s full-bodied picture is that Strager, as a Danish scientist, provides a non-US-centric perspective and has access to material written in other languages. With the help of a friend, she translates hundreds of newspaper articles from Iceland’s National Archive to puzzle together the story of how the US Air Force got involved in massacring orcas here in the 1950s, doing bombing raids on pods. Being plugged into the Scandinavian research community, Strager can furthermore draw on her connections to visit and speak to people in Denmark, Greenland, Russia, and various places in Norway.

Killer Whale (Orcinus orca) by Gregory "Slobirdr" Smith, via flickr.
Killer Whale (Orcinus orca) by Gregory “Slobirdr” Smith, via flickr.

Increasingly, the demonization of orcas has made way for a different understanding, seeing these as intelligent mammals, not unlike us. A new generation of fishermen in Norway is less hostile. The extra income generated by wildlife tourism and whale watching does not hurt, but, adds a Norwegian marine ecologist, there is also a sense of pride in one’s local patch. Having tourists visit from around the world and witnessing their awe can make people realize that their humdrum backyard is maybe not that humdrum after all. Captive orcas in aquaria and marine parks are another reason why public attitudes shifted from fear to fascination to concern over animal welfare, as has been so carefully documented by James M. Colby in Orca. Despite opposition, the capture and trade of orcas continues and one harrowing chapter delves into the infamous Russian “whale jail” that was exposed by journalist Mashaz Netrebenko in 2018.

As mentioned earlier, this is not a scholarly book, so orca biology takes a bit of a backseat. Nevertheless, you will learn about, for instance, the different orca populations and their dietary specializations, and how they do not mix genetically, causing a headache for conservation biologists. This behaviour is a prominent example of culture in cetaceans as it is learned and passed on from generation to generation. Strager also discusses the recent spate of attacks by orcas on pleasure craft in the Mediterranean. A marine mammal researcher from Madeira admits that she does not know if this is retaliation or just rambunctious play, but its rapid spread in the region sure points to orcas learning new behaviours from each other. Conservation concerns are the main recurrent biological theme in this book. Reflecting on the situation in the Pacific Northwest and the tremendous efforts expended on returning one orphaned orca, Springer, back to its pod, Strager writes how: “saving one orphan whale is a trivial task compared to changing the conditions that threaten these whales” (p. 214). Overfishing, chemical and noise pollution, shipping, aquaculture, hydroelectric dams—the long list of environmental insults is a poignant reminder that, in the words of Michael J. Moore, we are all whalers, even if only indirectly.

Orcas in the Lemaire Channel, Antarctica, surrounded by icebergs.
Orcas in the Lemaire Channel by Pedro Szekely, via flickr.

The other aspect that takes a backseat is Strager’s personal story. This book covers some four decades of her life, from a young student in the 1980s to a seasoned researcher now. And yet, important life events are mentioned rather than elaborated upon. They help provide a sense of place and circumstance, but never play a central or even supporting role in her stories. The fact that she would have a child with the man who helped her onto that first research vessel all those years ago is one of those offhand, blink-and-you-miss-it comments. Nor does she mention that she is now working as a Director of Exhibitions, turning the local Whale Center in Andenes, Norway, where she worked for years into a world-class museum, The Whale, to open in 2025.

The Killer Whale Journals takes in an impressively broad range of people past and present. There are various other fascinating stories I have not even touched upon here. Strager remains mild-mannered and non-judgemental throughout as she carefully charts the nuances, inconsistencies, and complexities of people’s attitudes. If you have any interest in cetaceans or marine biology more generally, this absorbing book comes recommended.

The NHBS Guide to UK Jellyfish and Hydrozoa Identification

Jellyfish, or jellies (as some scientists would like them to be called), are mainly free-swimming members of the subphylum Medusozoa. The jellyfish form is actually the medusa phase of certain gelatinous Medusozoans, many of whom also have several other phases, including a sedentary polyp phase. Jellyfish are found across the world and fossil evidence shows that they have been in existence for at least 500 million years. The largest is thought to be the Lion’s Mane Jellyfish, whose tentacles have been recorded up to 36.6m long. The smallest is thought to be the Irukani Jellyfish, which measures one cubic centimetre (1cm3). 

Hydrozoa are small, predatory animals that can live solitarily or in colonies. Mostly, they are permanently attached to the substrate, but some are pelagic (free-swimming). The individual animals of colonial hydrozoa are called zooids and they can play different roles within the colony, such as digestion (gastrozooid), reproduction (gonophores) and tentacle-bearing zooids (dactylozooids).

Both jellyfish and hydrozoans are part of the phylum Cnidaria. Most species within this phylum have stinging cells called nematocysts, located mainly on the tentacles. True jellyfish, however, also have them around the mouth and in the stomach. Also called cnidocytes, these explosive cells deliver a structure containing toxins, which can act as a weapon against predators or to immobilise or kill prey.

Cnidarians are thought to be amongst the most important planktonic and benthic predators in the sea as, when abundant, they are major consumers of plankton, including fish larvae and crustaceans. They also prey on small fish and other jellyfish species. Most are planktonic creatures, unable to swim against the current ,and are therefore carried by the currents throughout the oceans. Because of this, they cannot actively hunt prey, so many species have developed incredibly long tentacles to increase their chances of catching food.

This blog covers the identifying features of a number of species of Jellyfish and hydrozoa you are likely to find in UK waters, as well as the seasons they are present.  

Jellyfish 

Moon Jellyfish (Aurelia aurita) 
Aurelia aurita / Moon Jellyfish swimming along a bed of seaweed.
Aurelia aurita / Moon Jellyfish by Katya, via flickr.

Season: All year 

What to look for: This species is translucent, with a white tinge to its bell. Its most recognisable feature is the four horseshoe shapes or circles visible through the top of its body. These are reproductive organs called gonads, and can range from white to purple in colour. Moon Jellyfish have thin, short tentacles hanging from the edges of the bell, as well as four feeding appendages called oral arms which surround the mouth beneath the bell.  

Compass Jellyfish (Chrysaora hysoscella) 
Compass Jellyfish (Chrysaora hysoscella) swimming on the surface by the edge of the harbour in County Cork, Ireland.
Compass Jellyfish (Chrysaora hysoscella) by Dale Simonson, via flickr.

Season: May to October 

What to look for: Yellowish-white jellyfish with a brown fringe around the bell. Its name comes from the brown markings on the top of the bell, where v shapes radiate out from a central point, resembling a compass. Their oral arms are fringed, and they have long, thin tentacles around the edge of the bell.  

Lion’s Mane Jellyfish (Cyanea capillata) 
Lion's Mane Jellyfish Cyanea capillata washed up on the sand.
Lion’s Mane Jellyfish Cyanea capillata by gailhampshire, via flickr.

 

The lion's mane jellyfish (Cyanea capillata) swimming in the sea by Derek Keats.
The lion’s mane jellyfish (Cyanea capillata) by Derek Keats, via flickr.

 

 

 

 

 

Season: May to October 

What to look for: Translucent brown jellyfish, although it can also be reddish. The bell of this species has eight lobes, rather than being simply circular. This species has a thick ‘mane’ consisting of hundreds of hair-like tentacles attached to the bell’s subumbrella. They also have a number of frilly oral arms extending from around the mouth, which are shorter than the tentacles. 

Did you know? The Lion’s Mane Jellyfish is one of the longest animals in the world; its tentacles can grow to over 30m long! 

Barrel Jellyfish (Rhizostoma pulmo) 
Barrel Jellyfish swimming left to right with a scuba diver below it.
Barrel Jellyfish by heartypanther, via flickr.

Season: May to October 

What to look for: The Barrel Jellyfish is a large translucent jellyfish, with a huge mushroom-shaped bell. They lack tentacles on the edges of their bell, but they do have a violet fringe containing sensory organs with eight frilly tentacles below this. 

Blue Jellyfish (Cyanea lamarckii) 
Bluefire jellyfish in Brofjorden at Sandvik.
Bluefire jellyfish (Cyanea lamarckii) by Ann-Sophie Qvarnström, via flickr.

Season: May to October 

What to look for: Also called the Bluefire Jellyfish, this species can vary in colouration depending on maturity, so may have a blue, purple or yellow tone. Yellow toned individuals may be confused with Lion’s Mane Jellyfish, however Blue Jellyfish can be distinguished by their smaller size and fewer tentacles. They can grow up to 30cm in length, although most individuals usually measure between 10–20cm. They can have a dark blue, circular, sun-like pattern on the top of their bell, as well as long marginal tentacles and several, frilly oral arms.  

Mauve Stinger (Pelagia noctiluca) 
Mauve Stinger Pelagia noctiluca swimming in clear blue waters.
Mauve Stinger Pelagia noctiluca by Don Loarie, via flickr.

Season: July to October, but dependent on weather and ocean currents 

What to look for: This species has a dome-shaped bell that is covered in wart-like stinging cells and eight marginal tentacles emanating from the edges of the bell. They also have four long oral arms that also have wart-like nematocysts down one side; while the other side is crenulated, giving the arms a slightly frilly appearance. The colour of this species varies from mauve, pink and purple to light brown or yellow.  

Hydrazoa 

Portuguese Man o’ War (Physalia physalis) 
PortugueseMan o' War washed up on a sandy beach.
Portuguese Man o’ War by 4Neus, via flickr.
Portuguese man o' war swimming on the surface.
Portuguese man o’ war by Joi Ito, via flickr.

Season: September to December 

What to look for: The Portuguese Man o’ War is not one animal, but a colony organism made up of four polyp types. The uppermost polyp is the gas-filled structure called the pneumatophore, which sits on the surface of the water and is the most visible. It is mostly transparent, with a blue, pink or purple tinge. The top edge of this structure resembles a sail. Two other polyps cooperate to allow the colony to hunt and feed: the polyp containing gastrozooids and the tentacles (dactylozooids). These tentacles can be a variety of colours, such as blue, purple or clear, and hang down below the surface. The final polyp type is the gonodendron, the compound reproductive structure that can be found hanging just below the pneumatophore. These can also vary in colour, and are often deep blue, pink or purple.   

By-the-wind-sailor (Velalla velalla) 
By-the-Wind Sailor by Philip McErlean washed up on a sandy beach in Ireland.
By-the-Wind Sailor by Philip McErlean, via flickr.

Season: September to March 

What to look for: This species is also a colonial hydroid made up of multiple polyps, and contains gonozooids and dactylozooids. It has an oval disc that is deep blue in colour and acts as a float, with short tentacles hanging down from it. A semi-circular fan is set atop the float like a sail which aids its movement through the water via wind power.

Author interview with Helen Scales: What the Wild Sea Can Be

What the Wild Sea Can Be book cover showing an artists drawing of the ocean, sea and rocks.In this bracing yet hopeful exploration of the future of the ocean, Helen scales relays the fascinating, deep history of our seas and reveals how prehistoric ecology holds lessons for the oceans of today. In light of the current challenging climate conditions, she offers innovative ideas to protect our coastlines and the species who live there, highlighting the importance of ethical and sustainable fisheries, the threat posed by deep-sea mining and more. This inspiring tale urges us to fight for a better future for the ocean before it’s too late.

Helen Scales portrait.

Helen Scales is a marine biologist, author and broadcaster who teaches Marine Biology and Science Writing at the University of Cambridge. She regularly writes on ocean discoveries for National Geographic Magazine and The Guardian, is an avid scuba diver, cold-water surfer and trained free diver who has lived and worked around the world, and is currently spending her time between Cambridge and the wild Atlantic coast of France.

We recently had the opportunity to talk to Helen about her most recent book What The Wild Sea Can Be, including how she first became a marine biologist, how we can secure a better future for our oceans, her current projects and more.

Firstly, can you tell us a little about yourself, your career, and how you came to be a marine biologist?  

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved nature and being outdoors. My family spent a lot of holidays in Cornwall, so my training grounds as a marine biologist were windswept Atlantic beaches. This is when I began my lifelong love of rock pooling, shell collecting and rummaging around in seaweed to see what I can find. 

As a teen, I became a committed environmentalist. I was outraged by the issues of the day, including deforestation in the Amazon, and became vegetarian. Around the time I was beginning to contemplate a career as an environmental scientist, a school friend and I decided to take up scuba diving. We lived in land-locked, suburban Surrey – not an obvious place to learn to dive – but there was a friendly dive club that met each week and trained at the local swimming pool in an enclosed sea of eye-stinging chlorination. Our open water training dives were mostly back down in Cornwall, and that’s where I truly fell in love with the ocean and knew that I wanted to become a marine biologist. Instead of running off to save the rainforests, I wanted to save the ocean. I often say that was when my vision for my future turned from green to blue. 

So I left school, diving licence in hand, and immediately headed off on adventures to explore more of the seas. I’ve been incredibly lucky to travel to many corners of the ocean, studying and researching, and taking every opportunity I could to get myself underwater. For my PhD, I went to Borneo and studied the lives and loves of one of the biggest and I think most beautiful fish on coral reefs, the Humphead Wrasse.

Over the years, I’ve worked for various conservation organisations, including WWF in Malaysia where I mapped marine life around an archipelago of coral islands. Later, I worked on efforts to control the global trade in endangered marine species. Then, quite out of the blue, I discovered a previously unknown passion for writing and presenting, and decided to focus on sharing stories with people about the wonders and troubles of the living ocean.

1 Ocean diving exploration mission on a deep coral reef in the heart of the Pacific showing four divers swimming over a deep coral reef.

This book is cautiously optimistic about marine conservation. What have been the most impactful positive actions that have helped the recovery and management of our oceans? 

A big part of my optimism for the future is the fact that ocean life has an incredible capacity to recover and heal, given a chance. Often all it takes is for people to stop hunting and killing so many animals. 

For instance in the 1980s, commercial whaling was banned following the successful Save the Whales campaign, and now we’re seeing many whale populations doing a lot better. Back in the mid 20th century, whalers had killed around 99% of the Blue Whale subspecies from Antarctica, the biggest animals ever known to exist. Just recently, hydrophones stationed in the Southern Ocean have been detecting the songs of Blue Whales, a good sign that their numbers are on the rise.

Recoveries are happening in many other ocean species. After being gone for decades, Bluefin Tuna are showing up again around Britain, in part because catches have been better controlled in the Atlantic. Populations of oceanic sharks, like Great Hammerheads and Great White Sharks, are gradually increasing in the western Atlantic following years of overfishing. Up until the 1990s, the United States had a policy that actively encouraged shark exploitation. These wild animals were classified as an underutilised resource. That didn’t go well for sharks and their populations crashed. Finally, attitudes shifted, and the government rolled back the shark killing incentives and introduced measures to protect them in commercial and recreational fisheries. 

A lone Sunflower Sea Star (Pycnopodia helianthoides) or starfish crawling on the seabed off Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada. The species has been devastated by sea star wasting disease.

Another proven way to let the ocean recover is to leave parts completely alone. That means no fishing or exploitation of any kind. People have been trying out these kinds of highly protected marine reserves for decades and showing that this is a powerful way to let nature in the ocean heal, grow and proliferate – not just inside the watery reserve boundaries but outside too.

Some of these reserves are quite tiny, and some are enormous. At both big and small scales there can be tremendous benefits for wildlife and for people when these kinds of reserves are well designed and well enforced. In Scotland, a tiny reserve off the island of Arran has helped seabed ecosystems recover and flourish from years of trawling; Lamlash Bay is now home to lots more big lobsters and scallops, and the fragile habitat-forming seaweed called maerl. And in the middle of the Pacific, the vast Papah?naumoku?kea Marine National Monument covers more than 1.5 million square miles of sea, including the spawning grounds of migratory Yellowfin and Bigeye Tuna whose numbers are increasing.

The entire ocean will never be strictly protected. What’s needed are more of these kinds of carefully located and well–enforced reserves – to protect important places like the spawning grounds of rare and endangered species, and safeguard deep sea mounts covered in rich coral and sponge gardens – combined with wider measures to sustainably manage the rest of the ocean.

Schoolmaster snapper (Lutjanus apodus) in red mangrove(Rhizophora mangle) and turtlegrass (thalassia testudinum) habitats. Image made on Eleuthera Island, Bahamas.

What the Wild Sea Can Be discusses possible solutions to the big problems that humanity will face in terms of future oceans. Are you aware of any lesser-known or less popular solutions that could be beneficial in securing a sustainable ocean?  

Certain solutions for a sustainable ocean tend to be unpopular among powerful people who are creaming off profits from the seas, often at huge industrial scales. Take the factory ships that head to Antarctica to extract krill. These finger-sized crustaceans are hunted by truly massive ships. One recently built in China is 140m (460ft) long – longer than a football field. The technique for catching krill involves lowering down giant nets and pumping up hundreds of tonnes of krill every day, working nonstop for weeks at a time. The krill is processed on board, mashed and ground to make fishmeal and oils, and most of it is destined for fish farms to be fed to livestock like salmon.

Krill are fantastically abundant in the Southern Ocean. The snag is that the places where fisheries target krill in their densest, largest shoals are the very same places where Antarctic wildlife flocks to feed on them. Whales, seals, penguins and seabirds depend on krill. Studies suggest that fisheries depleting local krill populations can make it tough for other animals to find enough food, especially penguins during their nesting season. 

To make matters worse, krill and their predators are also in the firing line of the climate crisis. The Antarctic Peninsula is one of the fastest heating places on the planet. Sea ice is retreating, upsetting the life cycle of krill that depend on the ice. 

Proposals to protect more of the seas around the West Antarctic Peninsula and restrict where fishing can happen are being met with strong opposition from nations with major krill fishing interests. There are many other examples where vested interests and powerful lobbies are blocking progressive changes to the way people use the ocean.

Lionfish - King of the Reef.

In chapter ten you discuss the idea of futuristic, ocean floating cities in the Maldives. Do you think highly engineered solutions such as these have a place in a sustainable future? And how realistic do you think these innovative adaptations are as a long-term solution?

It’s only going to be rich nations that can afford expensive, engineered solutions at a large enough scale to be significant. Perhaps there are people in the Maldives who will be able to afford this, but I’m guessing not an average fishing family whose island homes are disappearing beneath the waves. The situation in the Maldives is grim and it’s hard to know what to do in low-lying, island nations that have so little time, so I understand why people are exploring ideas of floating cities and other extreme measures. 

Elsewhere, more realistic and frankly exciting solutions involve working with nature, not against it. Wetland habitats, like salt marshes and mangrove forests, are excellent at protecting against flooding and storms, and they bring heaps of other benefits too, from carbon sequestration to supporting local fisheries. 

A priority for living with the future ocean is to protect and nurture existing wetlands, especially those near big cities, and to find smart ways of weaving those green solutions into more conventional approaches to protecting coastlines.

Nassau Grouper Spawning Aggregation.

This book is a realistic, yet hopeful exploration of the future of our marine environment. Where do you think we should focus our attention over the next ten years to secure a better future for our oceans? 

There are a few key things that I think need attention in the ocean in the years ahead. It will be critical to turn off the tap of plastics entering the ocean. To do that, plastic production needs to be limited globally. Currently, the amount being made annually is skyrocketing, and recycling rates have stagnated at around 10%. A global treaty on plastics is being negotiated at the United Nations which could pave the way to turning around the plastics juggernaut. 

There needs to be a cultural shift away from treating the ocean as a resource to exploit and squeeze profit from. A new mindset is beginning to take hold embracing an alternative view, one of cultivation and investment. People are producing low-impact, ethical seafood, for instance growing shellfish and seaweed. Governments need to support initiatives like these, instead of propping up damaging industrial fisheries. The ocean has the capacity to provide sustainable food for millions of people, especially in food-insecure nations who have no alternatives and depend most on the seas, but not if damaging industrial fishing continues to dominate. 

New ways to recklessly exploit the ocean need to be stopped before they start, in particular deep-sea mining. Mining corporations want to extract metal-rich rocks from the seabed many miles beneath the waves, in the process destroying vital deep-sea habitats and species, potentially causing widespread pollution and disrupting the health of the ocean. 

The argument for deep-sea mining is that this would be a better way to provide materials for a green economy, in particular to build electric car batteries. For many reasons, this logic is deeply flawed. For one thing, the EV market is fast moving, and companies are constantly inventing new technologies in the race to build lighter, faster-charging batteries. Increasingly, the types of metals that could come from the deep, such as cobalt and lithium, are likely to be replaced by more readily available and less problematic materials. 

There’s growing pushback from civil society, governments, indigenous groups, scientists and industry leaders who agree that deep-sea mining is not vital for green economies and would permanently harm the ocean.

Birds diving into the sea to catch fish.

What’s next for you? Do you have any current projects that you would like to share with us?

A few years ago I began writing books for younger readers and it’s become a part of my work that I treasure. I have a lot of fun telling stories about the seas and sea life to younger audiences, and I love collaborating with super talented artists who make such incredibly beautiful books. So, I have several more books for little ones in the pipeline. 

There are also some spin offs from the books I’ve already written. When I set out on my career as a marine biologist, I never imagined one day I would have my own jigsaws! 

What the Wild Sea Can Be book cover showing an artists drawing of the ocean, sea and rocks.

 What the Wild Sea Can Be is available to order from our online bookstore.

South West Marine Ecosystems conference 2024

The 2024 South West Marine Ecosystems (SWME) conference was held at the Plymouth Marine Laboratory in April. Running since 2007, the conference brings together organisations and individuals involved in research on and management of the marine environment to report on annual system changes in the south-west. The conference covers the oceanography, plankton, seabed and seashore, fish, seabirds, seals and cetaceans of the south-west. Alongside key trends and interesting occurrences from the past year, SWME also encompasses management themes: marine planning, protected areas, fisheries, water quality and plastic pollution. This year’s theme focussed on the interconnectedness of the environment and its management, demonstrating this connectivity through interaction and discussion between guest speakers. In this blog we provide a roundup of SWME 2024.  

Coastline in Dorset showing a rocky water edge and sunset
Image by Pedro via Flickr.

Environment 

The first session began with a rundown of oceanography and weather conditions across the UK, setting the scene for our marine environment. The UK experienced an increase in mean air temperature and increased sunshine duration over winter. There was also a decrease in mean rainfall across the UK and record-breaking heatwaves – some of us may remember the scorching temperatures of June last year, a worrying 2–3°C anomaly.  

From March 2024, a new bylaw prohibits the use of bottom towed gear in defined areas of 13 marine protected areas (MPAs). Hartland Point to Tintagel Marine Conservation Zone (MCZ), Cape Bank MCZ, Lands End and Cape Bank MCZ, South of Celtic Deep MCZ, Wight-Barfleur Reef MCZ, East of Haig Fras MCZ and Greater Haig Fras MCZ are the MPAs that will benefit from this designation in the south-west. Devon Wildlife Trust vocalised a desire for a ‘whole-site approach’ for MPAs in the region – managing the site in its entirety, not just where protected species or features are present. 

No single stretch of river was found to be in ‘good’ overall health in 2023. Image by Dave_S via Flickr.

The Devon Maritime Forum stressed an urgency to address issues surrounding water quality in the south-west. They reported that no single stretch of river was found to be in ‘good’ overall health in 2023 – with quality impacted by agricultural run-off, sewage overflows, climate change and urban diffuse pollution. The UK Government has pledged to invest £1.6 billion to improve the water quality of rivers, lakes and coastal waters. Investments will be used to tackle storm overflow discharges, treatment works pollution and water resilience. South West Water will also be investing £70 million to upgrade infrastructure to reduce discharges in the region.  

Analysis of plastic pollution showed that polyethylene was the most common material in plastic waste and marine litter fragments. To tackle the issue of plastic pollution on a global scale, the Global Plastics Treaty is under negotiation, and is expected to be legally binding by 2024. The treaty will address the full life cycle of plastic products and aim to end the pollution by these materials worldwide.  

Key points:  

  • Higher average winter temperatures and sunshine, with decreased rainfall were observed in 2023 
  • A new bylaw will prohibit the use of bottom-towed gear in seven MPAs. 
  • The UK Government has pledged to invest £1.6 billion to improve freshwater and coastal water quality 
  • The Global Plastics Treaty will be legally binding by the end of 2024, intending to end plastic pollution

 

Organisms

Plankton researchers saw a higher abundance of salps (a barrel-shaped pelagic tunicate), consistent with a general increase in filter feeders over the past 30 years. There was also an influx of Barrel Jellyfish strandings across the south-west, with the species accounting for 27% (467) of the annual total of jellyfish sightings. A new method of plankton sampling has been developed, called Automated In-situ Plankton Imaging and Classification System (APICS). This new technology will help to determine the impacts of environmental changes on plankton, allowing for long-term, broad-spectrum measurements of the group.  

New observations have improved our understanding of Basking Shark behaviour, revealing that this species may remain in UK waters throughout winter, instead of migrating south as previously believed. Blue Sharks were also caught more readily than previous years, exhibiting a higher catch per unit effort (CPUE), with over 1,000 caught off the coast of Looe, in Cornwall. The UK had its first sightings of Smalltooth Sand Tiger Shark, with a 10-foot individual washing up in Lyme Regis, Dorset. Typically seen in tropical and temperate waters, the discovery of this species in the UK is indicative of the effects of climate change on marine megafauna. Atlantic Bluefin Tuna have also been returning to the south-west with most sightings between July and February. There has been a marked increase in catch rate (over 5,000 were landed in 2023) which has prompted the introduction of fisheries plans (see below).  

A large white Barrel jellyfish with a blue fringe in the sea
2023 saw an influx of Barrel Jellyfish strandings. Image by Ales Kladnik via Flickr.

Rat eradication has been hugely successful for a number of seabirds. On Lundy, Manx Shearwaters and Puffins have responded positively and have seen population increases in 2023, and Storm Petrels have recolonised the island. Razorbills and Guillemots are also recovering well and are breeding successfully without predation from rats. The south-west has luckily missed the worst of avian influenza, although some small gulls and terns were affected in Dorset last summer. However, Kittiwakes are having local productivity issues which is prompting concern, and several species of gull are experiencing significant declines: Herring Gulls, Lesser Black-backed Gulls and Great Black-backed Gulls have all experienced losses over 40%. The English Seabird Conservation and Recovery Pathway (ESCaRP) report was published at the start of 2024, highlighting the sensitivity of seabird species to a range of pressures. Vulnerability assessments were conducted to inform the recovery pathway, and the report has made recommendations for conservation measures to address negative impacts.  

Puffins have responded positively to rat eradication programmes. Image by Jason Thompson via Flickr.

There are concerns over the impacts of climate change on Humpback Whales. Increasingly, we are seeing individuals which are choosing not to migrate and are instead remaining in UK waters. Researchers believe that these animals are not undertaking seasonal movements due to a lack of food resources during winter – demonstrating that decreased productivity at the base of the food chain can cause issues further down the line for other marine organisms.

Key points:

  • New technology will provide a greater understanding of the impact environmental change may have on plankton 
  • Atlantic Bluefin Tuna and shark sightings have increased in the south-west, including the Smalltooth Sand Tiger Shark, never previously recorded in the UK 
  • Rat eradication programmes have been hugely successful in protecting seabirds 
  • Kittiwakes and a number of gull species are experiencing declines 
  • Climate change is thought to be impacting Humpback Whale migration 

 

Industry

The Crown Estate have announced plans to develop more offshore wind farm projects, generating an additional 4GW of electricity to contribute to the 50GW by 2030 goal. This additional capacity could power up to four million homes, contributing to the UK target of net zero by 2050. Large, floating platforms have been proposed to enable deployment in deeper water – installation further offshore provides more reliable wind resources, generating more power for the same installation on-shore. There have been assessments to prepare for the deployment of extensive offshore wind in the south-west – with pre-consent surveys run by The Crown Estate. Celtic Sea Power, owned by Cornwall Council, is supporting offshore roll-out and has identified areas for data collection in the region. There are three project development areas where aerial, geophysical, acoustic and LiDAR surveys are taking place to improve data collection, accelerating the programme. The Poseidon Project was established by Natural England to provide a sensitivity map across the EEZ (exclusive economic zone –a surrounding area of 200 nautical miles offshore, where the nation has jurisdiction over resources) through digital aerial surveys. Collecting detailed information on seabirds, marine mammals and habitats, the project aims to improve models of abundance and distribution for key species which may be impacted by offshore development.  

Offshore wind farm
There have been preparations to install further offshore wind. Image by the Department of Energy and Climate Change via Flickr.

 

Sardine and Anchovy stocks are reported to have had a good year, continuing to support fisheries in the south-west, while Sprat fisheries have slowed due to insufficient stock size and 0-group fish (fish in their first year of life). We can see that new fisheries are emerging in the region (e.g. Atlantic Bluefin Tuna quota of 39 tonnes), while other, more traditional stocks are declining (e.g. Edible Crab). Five fisheries management plans have been developed for bass, King Scallops, crab and lobster, whelk and non-quota demersal species – these plans are put in place to deliver sustainable fisheries while minimising negative impacts on marine species. Dogger bank SAC, The Canyons MCZ and Inner Dowsing, Race Bank and North Ridge SAC were protected from damaging fishing activity in 2022 by prohibiting trawls, seines, dredges and bottom towed gear – this bylaw seeks to protect cold-water coral reefs, seabed, sandbanks and biogenic reef.  

Key points:  

  • Offshore wind development is being accelerated by better data collection and availability, supporting the UK in reaching renewable energy targets 
  • Some traditional stocks are declining, while new fisheries are emerging 
  • Five fisheries management plans were introduced 
  • Four areas of conservation concern were protected to prohibit bottom towed gear 

This year’s conference was an enlightening insight into the marine ecosystem in the south-west and highlighted some inspirational conservation work undertaken by several organisations, and individuals, dedicated to this environment. The SWME YouTube channel has a selection of webinars and further information on the conference can be found on the SWME website.  

Book Review: Blue Machine

***** An engrossing odyssey into oceanography

In a break from many other books about the deep sea that talk about animals, Blue Machine focuses on the ocean itself, revealing a fascinating planetary engine. Equal parts physical oceanography, marine biology, and science history, topped off with human-interest stories, Czerski has written a captivating book that oozes lyricism in places.

Czerski is an accidental oceanographer, stumbling into the discipline from a background in physics. She boasts a long list of science communication credentials as a TV presenter, podcast host, columnist, public speaker, and author. This is a big book with chunky chapters but Czerski keeps the flow going by alternating between scientific explanations, fascinating experiments, and remarkable historical episodes. I find the deep sea endlessly fascinating and have been drawn ever further into oceanography through my reviews, yet something was always missing. This book has finally scratched the oceanographic itch I have long been trying to satisfy. How so, you might ask?

Stormy sea and waves crashing against a stony beach.
Stormy Waters IMG_6958 by Ronnie Robertson, via flickr.

Start with that introduction. If you zoom right out, what sets a planet’s temperature, and with it the potential for life, is the balance between energy input from the sun and energy loss to the universe in the form of heat. From this grand, cosmic perspective, what the ocean with its circulating currents does is intercept some of that incoming energy and prevent it from immediately escaping again, instead “diverting it on to a much slower path through the mechanisms of the Earth: ocean, atmosphere, ice, life and rocks” (p. 5). From an energy point of view, “the Earth is just a cascade of diversions, unable to stop the flood but tapping into it as it trickles past; and the ocean is an engine for converting sunlight into movement and life and complexity, before the universe reclaims the loan” (p. 6). To me, this was such an awe-inspiring, attention-grabbing perspective on life on Earth, expressed so eloquently, that I wondered: is Czerski the new Ed Yong of oceanography? Tell me more, please!

What helps to understand the above perspective is the fact that the ocean is a vast three-dimensional environment that is constantly in motion, creating and maintaining differences at different scales. Heat and salinity create different layers of water that do not readily mix, meaning the ocean is stratified. This results in gigantic underwater conveyor belts and waterfalls. What makes these processes interesting is the shape of the container holding all this water: i.e. the continents and underwater topography. The local gravitational pull of the underlying rocks deforms the water surface, creating domes and holes over very large surface areas, a shape known as the geoid. Many more fundamental features and principles are described though she admits that she cannot squeeze the full complexity of the ocean into one book, treating other topics only briefly or not at all.

Bright blue, large wave tubing with splashes all around it.
The tube by Misty, via flickr.

Admirably, Czerski is equally at home in the marine biology department and she features some wonderful critters here. True, these abound in all good popular science books about the deep sea, but her physics background allows her to show how the physical and biological worlds intertwine. A beautiful example of this is the mesoscale eddies that are spun off by oceanic gyres: large islands of rotating water that become temporary havens for all the plankton and fish that find themselves inside. The formation of these wandering buffets is such a regular phenomenon that large ocean predators such as tuna can make a living by roaming the seas in search of them.

Another captivating element is the many ingenious experiments, both historical and current, that she describes here. We almost developed a method to collect a long-term dataset on the global ocean’s temperature by bouncing sound waves through the seas, but the idea stalled after a successful pilot experiment in 1991. More successful is the Continuous Plankton Recorder Survey which has been running for the last 90 years, deploying mechanical recorders towed behind ships that use elegant internal clockwork to capture plankton on long strips of mesh and have gathered valuable long-term records.

The physical world also entwines with human history. One example is the narrow northern half of the Indian Ocean where gyres do not form but seasonal currents flow eastwards and westwards. The 14th-century Chinese Ming Dynasty used these to send expeditions of large ships laden with valuables up and down the coast of Asia and Arabia, trading goods for political influence and prestige. I was similarly captivated by the poorly known story of the 18th-century Scottish herring lassies: bands of female contractors who travelled south along the English coast each summer, following the southwards moving herring fleet. While the men worked the boats out at sea, the women were ready in ports and at beaches to gut, salt, and pack each day’s landing before the freshly-caught fish could spoil. Hard-working, skilled, and independent, they were decades ahead of most other women in Victorian England.

Wave Breaking on rocks at Asilomer State Beach.
Wave Breaking Asilomer State Beach by Charlie Day, via flickr.

All of this is backed up by an attitude that, coming from a scientist, is refreshingly clued in to social issues. This becomes explicit in the final chapter where she addresses the environmental issues she has so far avoided. Though a popular mantra in politics is that we need to follow the science, she opposes this “for the simple reason that science does not lead. Where leadership comes from is a clear statement of values” (p. 381). Science can inform these, yes, but we have to decide what we care about for ourselves and our communities. Going down this path involves hard questions without simple answers, and nuance rather than binary “I am right, you are wrong” categories. It also means breaking with our perception of “the ocean as the end of a one-way pipe” (p. 289). There is no “away” on this planet for our trash. And it means breaking with a culture of infinite growth on a finite planet. Her thinking here is influenced by her contact with Polynesian cultures that value cooperation, openness, and teamwork, in contrast to the Western mindset of ownership and power play.

If I need to sound a critical note it is the lack of illustrations. Though the UK version features nice endpapers and a stunning cover, there are only two maps and two illustrations in the rest of the book. Especially some of the physical oceanography principles would have benefited from explanatory diagrams.

Blue Machine is an engrossing odyssey into oceanography. Czerski brings her substantial experience in science communication to bear on this topic and has written a transformative book. She brings to life the watery fabric of the ocean itself in ways I have not encountered before.