Right whale skim feeding off Provincetown, MA. Photo: Brian Skerry

Shipping lanes in and around San Francisco Bay are being changed to protect the many whales that feed in its krill-rich waters. Blue whales, fin whales, and humpbacks will all benefit from the changes. This action took two years of collaboration, data-sharing, and negotiating among the shipping industry, government agencies, and environmental groups. This, in a nutshell, is the regional ocean planning process.

Why does this matter to a New England conservation group? Well, besides the fact that everybody loves a happy ending, New England has been a leader in this type of effort for many years now.

If there is one dramatic example of the need to coordinate our activities in New England’s ocean it is the tale of our beloved but extremely endangered North Atlantic right whales and the shipping traffic that was threatening their recovery.

Right whales love our productive Gulf of Maine waters – they find an abundance of their favorite krill and copepods that teem in our coastal areas. People are keeping a close eye on these urban whales, since there may be fewer than 500 of them left on the planet. This careful watching was why we knew that shipping traffic in and out of Boston Harbor was causing big problems for the right whales. In short – right whales are shallow feeders, making them highly vulnerable to fatal ship strikes. And each whale matters in such a small population.

Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary staff decided to take action to protect the right whales in a bold and unprecedented way. Using 25 years’ worth of whale sighting and state of the art acoustic research Stellwagen Bank officials discovered that the shipping lanes through the Sanctuary also contained the highest concentration of whales, resulting in too often fatal collisions. In a process that took three years and involved collaboration with the Port of Boston, researchers with Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, Cornell Bioacoustic Research Program, and a Texas-based energy company that relies on shipping in and out of the harbor – high quality data on the movements of whales in and around the Sanctuary was mapped and compared with shipping traffic in and out of Boston Harbor.

As a result, in 2007 the Sanctuary slightly altered the shipping lanes – reducing whale strikes by 81 percent.

This wouldn’t have happened without scientists, conservationists, local officials, federal agencies and private industry deciding to work together.

To ensure continuing whale protection there are buoys “listening” for right whales throughout the bay, and there’s even an app for ship captains so they can receive whale location updates on their cell phones – alerting them to slow down or avoid certain areas. A lot of people came together to create an innovative solution to this complicated problem by using the principles of regional ocean planning. Everyone who had a stake in the process had a seat at the table.

This type of coordination is the heart of regional ocean planning. It’s simply about making sure everyone has a say in what in happens in our busy waters, including those of us who value protecting wildlife and natural habitats. As we have more happening in the Gulf of Maine, more ships, more whales, more renewable energy development, we need to be careful to organize these activities in a way that also protects existing commercial and recreational uses.

The pioneering Massachusetts and Rhode Island state ocean use plans are serving as the building blocks of New England’s regional ocean plan for federal waters. CLF is at the vanguard of ocean planning, innovating in New England what has become a national policy initiative intended to improve stewardship of vulnerable marine wildlife and habitats with responsible ocean uses.

Waves off West Barnstable, Massachusetts. Photo: nd-nʎ@flickr

Sea levels are rising 3-4 times faster along the east coast, from North Carolina to Massachusetts, than the global average, says a new study by the United States Geological Survey (USGS). This “hot spot” of rising water puts us at unique risk from the changes that are happening to our ocean and will “increase the vulnerability of coastal cities to flooding, and beaches and wetlands to deterioration,” according to the report.

The reasons for our higher than average sea level rise are complex and involve changes in ocean circulation, temperature, and salinity, among other things (read the full report here if you want all the details). But you don’t need to understand why it’s happening to know that this is a problem we need to figure out how to manage. Look at the recent debate in Matunuck, Rhode Island over whether to “Save the Beach or Save your House” for an example of why this matters – and matters right now.

Ocean resources are currently managed by more than 20 federal agencies and administered through a web of more than 140 different and often conflicting laws and regulations. We have to find a better way to plan for our oceans and coasts in the face of the unprecedented changes that are already happening to them.

And there IS a better way. Regional Ocean Planning is one of nine objectives of the National Ocean Policy. It’s a way to make decisions about our ocean resources that helps us factor in multiple uses and changing conditions – by using the best data and latest information and, most importantly, working together.

Regional Ocean Planning is a science-based process of improving decisions about ocean resources before conflict arises – by involving everyone who has a stake in those resources, including municipalities, conservation groups, recreational users, and commercial and industrial entities.

The rate of sea level rise is predicted to continue increasing if our global temperatures keep rising. Hopefully our level of planning will rise as well.

Here they are! Some of Brian’s first ever pictures of Cashes Ledge. Every picture tells a story – but we are lucky enough to have some real stories to tell about these awesome pictures. We caught up with Brian shortly after he visited Cashes Ledge and asked him about the dive. Brian filled us in on some of the exciting details of this bona fide ocean odyssey:

Robin: You’ve never dived Cashes Ledge before, what were your first impressions?

Brian: As always when I am diving in a new place for the first time, all I see is chaos when I first get on the bottom, but over time I begin to zero in on specific behaviors to start making order and begin to put the puzzle together.

The kelp is beautiful, the stalks are 6-8 feet high, then they have fronds that lay horizontally for probably 10-15 more feet. They create this sea of kelp, literally a bed of kelp that you see when you first come down from the surface that looks like the bottom but isn’t. The descent line we sent down just disappeared through it. You’d follow it down to the kelp bed then you’d have to go another 6 or 8 feet to get to the bottom. It’s a false bottom of kelp fronds. It’s a lovely golden amber color, and there’s another species of kelp that’s sort of reddish, growing on the amber ones. It all looked good and lush and thick – very colorful and healthy looking.

There were lots of fish circling around. We saw quite a few red cod. There are a lot of pollock and quite a number of cod mixed in, and some of the cod are more traditionally colored, but some have the distinctive red/orange iridescent coloration.

Robin: What other kinds of wildlife did you see?

Brian: Besides pollock and cod, there were a lot of juvenile fish. We found out later they were cunner. They are bright orange when they are small, quite stunning, like the garibaldi in California. We saw quite a few whales on the surface, minke whales porpoising and coming up for air, but not close enough to photograph. There were invertebrates on the bottom, on ledges below the kelp. It’s definitely worth a lot more exploration. This is clearly a unique habitat.

Robin: Was this dive different from your expectations?

Brian: I’d heard about the Cashes Ledge kelp forest for years. People always say it’s not like California, so I expected an area that was covered in kelp on the bottom, but the brown kind that I usually see inshore, just a lot more of it – low-lying, a foot off the bottom. I didn’t expect anything like this. Stalks of kelp that were 8 feet high and long strands at the top that made this golden bed. It was very unique. The fish stayed localized, always in the area. They weren’t passing schools; they sort of hung out there. The kelp forest is probably a square mile or so – it’s a big area. But the fish were always there – in the background, silhouetted. It was very different from what I expected.

Robin: Did you see evidence of human activity in the area?

Brian: There was a tremendous amount of fishing gear out there. We tried to dive away from gear. But everybody on the trip remarked that there were a lot of fishing buoys on the surface. I think they were lobster traps, but I’m not sure. They were everywhere. This was surprising. Nobody expected this. A friend of mine remembers diving Cashes in the 80s, and said the fish used to be so thick that you couldn’t see your dive buddies. It’s not like that today, so the biomass must be down. But there was a good population of fish. I think a place like this with proper protection could come back to those levels that my friend observed 20-30 years ago.

Robin: Were there any unexpected difficulties?

Brian: No, but the currents got quite strong on Sunday and we had trouble getting to the dive-line buoy. Wearing a dry suit and 120 pounds of equipment you have to swim really hard against the current. We couldn’t get to the buoy, so the boat picked us up and we tried again and made it.

Robin: What was the water temperature?

Brian: Pretty warm for New England, probably 50 degrees.

Robin: Did the weather cause any problems?

Brian: No, the weather was really good. It progressively improved. Early Saturday it was fine, small waves, a little bumpy, but it got better and by Sunday was really calm. If the waves are big it’s hard to get back in the boat after the dive.

Robin: Was visibility low from the recent northeaster?

Brian: I don’t know why visibility was low. It was very typical of New England conditions. Turbid, but not terrible. Visibility was 20-25 feet, but hazy, not crystal clear. I tried to work close in and make some pictures that would still come out well.

Robin: Will you do anything differently next time you go to Cashes?

Brian: Not necessarily. I would like to have more time. To produce pictures in these conditions takes a lot of repeatability and serendipity. My M.O. is to dive a place over and over and keep working it, if I can. I could spend hours and hours working those fish. I’m very intrigued by the red cod. They are highly unique and beautiful with the golden kelp backdrop and green water. I would just like to do more of it.

Are you intrigued by the red cod, too? We will give you a look at those fascinating fish soon. In the meantime, enjoy some of these other sublime pictures Brian made in this vibrant special place in the Gulf of Maine!

This post was originally published on New England Ocean Odyssey.

Brian and crew back from Cashes Ledge. Copyright Brian Skerry.

“I didn’t expect anything like this. Stalks of kelp that were 8 feet high and long strands at the top that made this golden bed… This is clearly a unique habitat.”

Success! After two prior attempts foiled by bad weather and rough seas, last weekend Brian Skerry at last reached Cashes Ledge and was able to explore this extraordinary, ecologically important seascape – a first for the peripatetic Skerry. For two days Brian and his crew swam in Cashes’ unearthly kelp forests, among its waving amber fronds and remarkable red cod, making pictures that will reveal the mysteries and beauty of this unique New England treasure so far unknown to most.

About 80 miles off the coast of Massachusetts, Cashes Ledge is a submerged mountain range that nearly pierces the surface of the ocean and is home to the deepest kelp forest in the North Atlantic. Fields of anemones and brightly-colored sponges produce a fascinating marine landscape surrounding Ammen Rock, the highest peak of Cashes Ledge and New England’s underwater equivalent of Mount Washington.

Cashes Ledge is important not only to marine organisms but also to people hoping to learn about the history of New England’s oceans – many scientists believe that Cashes Ledge represents the best remaining example of an undisturbed Gulf of Maine ecosystem.

We will be sharing some of the extraordinary pictures Brian made – and the stories that go with them – next week. Stay tuned!

This is also published on New England Ocean Odyssey, which can be found here.

Robin Just is a volunteer for CLF with an educational and professional background in biology and water quality issues. This blog was originally published on TalkingFish.org.

When we talk about fish, it’s good to remember that they not only come from somewhere but that that somewhere makes the fish. Habitat is essential; without it even many migratory fish won’t have a place to call home.

An eelgrass bed beneath the waters of New Hampshire's Great Bay (Photo credit: Ben Kimball, courtesy of NH Division of Forests and Lands).

Many North Atlantic fish spend an important part of their life cycles in coastal eelgrass habitat, and eelgrass is declining. Eelgrass is a native submerged aquatic plant found in shallow waters from Nova Scotia to North Carolina’s Outer Banks. In the northern areas this hearty plant spends part of each year under sea ice. It is not a true grass, but a flowering plant that evolved from terrestrial flora. With thin, streamlined leaves, and an extensive root system, it is uniquely adapted to thrive in ocean tides and swell. What it isn’t adapted to deal with is nutrient pollution, dredging, and other anthropogenic stressors that have our productive eelgrass meadow areas on the decline.

Why does this matter to fish? Eelgrass is one of the most valuable habitats in the northeast. For example, in the early 1930s a “wasting disease” decimated 90% of the Atlantic eelgrass communities. This decline took a heavy toll on, among other things, bay scallops. Bay scallops are a commercially important shellfish that range from Cape Cod to Florida, and are very dependent on seagrass meadows. Not only do they attach to living eelgrass leaves after their larval stage, but they consume decaying leaves for a significant portion of their diet. Bay scallops declined dramatically throughout their range, coincident with the wasting disease, and populations didn’t begin to recover until the mid-1940s. Some populations, such as those in the Chesapeake Bay, have never come back.  Lobsters, clams, and other invertebrates also declined.

Loss of eelgrass habitat has an effect on other commercial fishery species as well. Some of these animals, such as cod, winter flounder, and lobster use eelgrass meadows as a refuge in their early life stages. The eelgrass provides places to stay hidden, feeding opportunities, and shelter from wave energy. Some species, such as striped bass, bluefish, tautog, and fluke will use eelgrass habitat as adults, as a place to hunt and forage.

A tautog in an eelgrass bed (Photo credit: MA Divison of Marine Fisheries).

In addition to providing a place to eat and live, eelgrass is part of the foundation of our marine food web. Eelgrass is a primary producer – turning aquatic carbon dioxide into food and energy through photosynthesis; it is then eaten by many animals that are then consumed by our commercially important species. In short: eelgrass matters a lot to New England fishery resources, and its decline is not good news.

The impact of the loss of eelgrass on these fisheries is hard to tease out from the many drivers of the decline in fish populations, including fishing pressure, habitat destruction, nutrient pollution, climate change, and other stressors. There has been almost no research done to numerically link the decline in eelgrass with population-level changes in commercial fisheries species. However, an 11-year study in Buzzards and Waquoit Bays found that loss of eelgrass was accompanied by significant declines in fish biomass, species richness, and other measures of community integrity. Worryingly, a recent investigation of New Hampshire eelgrass populations found they are declining by about 9% a year, and eelgrass mapping efforts in Massachusetts show significant declines as well. This is an issue the Conservation Law Foundation’s new Great Bay-Piscatqua Waterkeeper will be addressing.

While the link has yet to be fully characterized between commercial fish populations and healthy eelgrass, it is vital that recovering species have functioning near-shore ecosystems to support their reproduction and growth.

Why is eelgrass declining? The decline is worldwide. Our local populations are suffering from a combination of coastal development and nutrient pollution, dredging activities, over-grazing by Canada geese, and climate change. Here’s a brief description of each of those stressors:

• Eelgrass is extremely sensitive to light levels. Urban build-up and construction activities in our coastal areas put sediment in the water, which decreases water clarity, and that takes a toll on eelgrass populations . Nutrient pollution from wastewater, stormwater, and other human activities can promote blooms of algae that block light to these photosensitive plants and prevent them from growing.
•  Dredging activities uproot eelgrass and can completely decimate an eelgrass meadow. It can take ten years or more for eelgrass to recover from this kind of stress.
• Grazing pressure from Canada geese is on the rise as the warmer winters encourage more of them to stay local instead of heading south. More geese means competition for food, and the geese increasingly turn to eelgrass to get them through the winters.
• Climate change: as ocean temperatures rise, native plants feel the heat. There is evidence that northern populations of eelgrass will not be able to adapt to warmer waters as easily as the southern populations might.

Efforts to restore eelgrass are underway around New England, but it’s not a simple process. Areas that once supported thriving eelgrass meadows can be re-planted, but unless the factors involved in eelgrass decline are addressed, the efforts will probably fail. For example, if construction activities degrade nearby water quality, leading to eelgrass loss, and then the water quality recovers, restoration is possible. But if the water is still dirty, it’s not going to help, and the habitat is lost.

Waiting until we know exactly how eelgrass ecosystems and commercial fish populations are linked before we address eelgrass decline is a dangerous path to follow. Since we know for sure that many of our economically important species utilize this habitat, it makes sense to try and protect it. We need good science about the utilization of eelgrass habitat, and we need effective restoration efforts that address water quality and other physical stressors. This will give our recovering fish populations every opportunity to grow and thrive.

Image courtesy of Arctic Exploration 2002, Russ Hopcroft, University of Alaska, Fairbanks, NOAA/OER

Sharks need pteropods, and so do you! At the risk of looking at the world through shark-shaped glasses, let me explain.

Pteropods are little mollusks (related to snails, slugs and squid) that drift around in ocean currents, feeding on nutrient-rich plankton. Their rich diet makes them delicious to many fish. Seals eat many fish, and sharks eat seals and fish, so there it is: not even 6 degrees of shark separation. Sharks need pteropods, and so do you.

Pteropods are gorgeous. People get poetic when they talk about them. Pteropods with shells are sometimes called “sea butterflies” and the shell-less ones are deemed “sea angels.” But good luck seeing them. The ones around here are tiny. According to Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution (WHOI) pteropod researcher Amy Maas, the biggest they get is about 1/10 of an inch. Visible to the naked eye, but you probably couldn’t see their little faces. Small though they may be, unimportant they are not. Just ask the sharks.

As tiny sea creatures borne by currents, pteropods are individually delicate. Unfortunately, those with shells are under threat from ocean acidification (OA). I’ll be writing more about OA in the coming months, but here are the basics.

The carbon dioxide we are cranking into the atmosphere in unprecedented quantities does not just hang around heating up the planet, it also changes the chemistry of the oceans. The gases in the ocean must be at equilibrium with the gases in the air, so when CO2 concentrations increase in  the air, some of it dissolves into the ocean to achieve that balance. This forms carbonic acid, which decreases the pH of the water, making it more acidic. Ocean Acidification.

This is not good news for these little mollusks, since the minerals they need to grow shells are less available in the acidic water. WHOI scientist Gareth Lawson and other ocean researchers are trying to figure out exactly what will happen to our “charismatic microfauna” as the ocean pH drops. I’ll keep you posted. For now, check out this site about pteropods and OA (don’t miss the song at the bottom, it’s super catchy)

Carbon pollution and ocean acidification are not just New England issues. Yet, while OA is a global problem, there are things we can do right here, right now, to help.

CLF is working hard to prevent further harm and to give our abundant ocean life a chance to thrive. We are promoting clean energy and reductions in greenhouse gas emissions to help stop OA and other negative effects of climate change. We are supporting a climate friendly modernized public transportation network. And we support our National Ocean Policy which calls for immediate steps to protect critical marine habitats, ensure a sustainable future for our fishing industry and coastal communities, reduce coastal pollution and promote the responsible development of offshore renewable energy.

By the way, according to the Shark Week Countdown Clock, only 231 more days to go!

I really do love our New England sharks. But I also love to surf. And as the water temperature at my favorite break is going down, the great whites are heading south. One less thing to worry about as I struggle with frigid water, thick head-to-toe neoprene, and my own personal resolve to surf all year long.

Out of sight may be good news for a surfer like me, but it’s important that we don’t let these magnificent creatures get out of mind. With Shark Week 2012 still 263 days away and counting, I am resolved to do occasional posts of shark news, facts and conservation updates to help get us through the long, sharkless months ahead.

So to kick things off, here are a few of my favorite current events, a la shark:

• Taiwan will no longer allow shark finning, starting next year. Hopefully this type of ban will become more prevalent, and our important apex predator will be allowed to grow in size and number and help our oceans thrive. If you’re not sure you want more sharks, and bigger ones at that, consider the incredibly important role they play in our marine ecosystems. In short, they help preserve a healthy balance of species, from other large fish, on down to clams and oysters.

• And a great local story: the Cape Cod Shark Hunters. Don’t worry, they don’t hunt to kill. They track down “The Landlord” (surfer nickname for great whites) and tag it. Then scientists from Woods Hole and the Massachusetts Division of Marine Fisheries track them to learn more about their habits, and to help us know when it isn’t safe to go in the water. I love their slogan: “Tag a shark, save a tourist!”

If you love sharks and can’t wait until my next post, check out the series I did around Shark Week 2011. More to come soon!

This is the fifth and last post in our Shark Week Series. Happy Shark Week, everyone!

Many rational people are very afraid of sharks. We can tell ourselves that the odds of attack are extremely low, especially in New England, but the primal image of the gaping maw and jagged teeth is hard to drive away with logic. As David Ropeik points out in his thought-provoking book, How Risky Is It, Really?, a risk feels bigger if you think it can happen to you, regardless of the odds. Sharks attacks are easy to imagine. However, if you look at the numbers, you should be way more worried about the drive to the beach, or lightning. The odds of death by shark each year in the U.S. are 1 in 3,748,067. You are way more likely to die from a dog attack. Here are some other things that are deadlier than a shark:

• Car accident – you have a 1 in 84 chance of dying in a car crash each year
• Death by sun/heat exposure – 1 in 13,729 per year
• Death by fireworks – 1 in 340,733 per year

I do worry about sharks. Almost anyone who spends time in the ocean thinks about them. But I worry a lot more about getting sick from polluted water.

Potentially harmful bacterial pollution enters our coastal environment in partially or untreated wastewater and stormwater, in septic and cesspool waste, and from animal waste on or near beaches. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, illnesses caused by recreational use of contaminated water are on the increase. For the fifth year in a row, beach closure or advisory days in 2010 topped 24,000 nationally, the majority which are due to bacterial contamination. Swimming in pathogen-contaminated water can result in respiratory infections, pink eye, stomach flu and many other health problems.

Many popular beaches have water-testing programs to help keep swimmers safe, but the testing is generally not daily, and the results are not “real time.” It’s a good idea to avoid the water during or after a storm, when bacteria levels are likely to be higher, since some of our stormwater is untreated. Worse still, many towns and cities in New England have antiquated Combined Sewer Overflow (CSO) systems that are designed to release untreated sewage and stormwater into our rivers and oceans during storms. Some beaches close down as a result of storms, without even being tested, if it is known that CSOs will be flowing into the water. Fortunately, some CSOs are being upgraded and eliminated. But for now, there is still a very real risk of illness from swimming in contaminated water.

There is risk in everything we do. I’m willing to risk an encounter with one of the “Men in Gray Suits” if it means I get to keep surfing. But I’m going to be very careful about swimming in polluted water.

My point is not that we should be too afraid to enjoy our amazing beaches and ocean life. But, that we should work to protect them. Join CLF in advocating for our National Ocean Policy, in protecting the Clean Water Act, and in ensuring we leave a legacy of protecting these special places.

Great white sharks off the coast of Massachusetts. (Photo credit: Green Massachusetts)

Let’s be honest. When we talk about great white sharks, we are usually talking about their appetites. White sharks have been found with a number of thought-provoking objects in their stomachs, including a partial suit of armor and an engine block. But what they really like is large, fatty ocean going animals: tuna, seals and sea lions, rays, whale carcasses. These are not always easy to catch, so sharks employ a number of hunting strategies, including a sneak attack from behind (shudder) and rushing up from the depths (double shudder). So, while their feeding style can be quite lively, and more than a little intimidating, scientists believe it is usually a case of “mistaken identity” when a shark bites a human, not mindless, malicious predation. White sharks are visual predators, and sometimes we humans do a fairly good seal impersonation. Often, once the shark realizes there has been a misunderstanding, it will move on to something tastier. Don’t get me wrong; I am not recommending anyone take their chances in the water with these big fish. If there is a shark sighting at your favorite beach, please stay out until you hear it’s safe again. I know they’re out there, but it gives me a bit of comfort to think that if they REALLY wanted to eat us then we’d know about it by now.

Shark survival, and hopefully I’ve convinced you by now that this is a good thing, is dependent on a robust, thriving food chain. Overfishing, coastal pollution (especially nutrient pollution), and the byproducts of power generation are severely impairing our near shore and blue water ecosystems. Coastal areas function as nurseries for ocean going fish, birds, and other marine life. So a small area of degradation can have a big effect out to sea. Protecting sensitive coastal ecosystems is protecting the bottom of the food chain. The things at the bottom feeds the things we like to eat (shellfish, cod, striped bass), the things we like to see (seals, whales), and things we maybe don’t want around, but are good anyway (sharks). CLF is working to protect these important ecosystems. From supporting our National Ocean Policy, to fighting dirty emissions that create unhealthy acidic water, to promoting healthy estuaries, CLF is on the forefront of efforts to protect our oceans and keep their waters clean and productive for generations to come.