Live colossal squid, super-heavyweight of the deep sea, caught on video for the first time
This squid, as its name suggests, can grow to as much as 23 feet in length and 1,100 pounds — the heaviest invertebrate in the world — according to the Schmidt Ocean Institute. But the creature the institute caught on video was a footlong juvenile.
It was recorded March 9 near the South Sandwich Islands in the South Atlantic Ocean at a depth of nearly 2,000 feet, according to a news release from the nonprofit. The squid was formally named and identified in 1925 but hadn't been recorded alive until this instance.
The squid, officially named Mesonychoteuthis hamiltoni, was recorded during a 35-day expedition that was aimed at finding new marine life, the release states. Scientists aboard the institute's Falkor research vessel captured video of the squid with its remotely operated vehicle called SuBastian.
The squids lose their transparent bodies as they get older, and dying adults have been recorded before by fishermen, but a colossal squid hadn't before been seen alive at such a depth.
"It's exciting to see the first in situ footage of a juvenile colossal and humbling to think that they have no idea that humans exist," said Kat Bolstad of the Auckland University of Technology in the release. Bolstad was consulted to verify the video, according to the institute. 'For 100 years, we have mainly encountered them as prey remains in whale and seabird stomachs and as predators of harvested toothfish.'
Read more: Trump administration seeks to narrow Endangered Species Act by redefining 'harm'
During a January expedition, the team also captured first-time video of the glacial glass squid (called Galiteuthis glacialis), according to the institute. That creature also has never been seen alive before in its natural environment.
'The first sighting of two different squids on back-to-back expeditions is remarkable and shows how little we have seen of the magnificent inhabitants of the Southern Ocean,' Jyotika Virmani, the Schmidt Ocean Institute's executive director, said in the release.
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This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
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Vox
2 days ago
- Vox
Scientists are trekking into the heart of a hurricane disaster zone — to save these rare creatures
is an environmental correspondent at Vox, covering biodiversity loss and climate change. Before joining Vox, he was a senior energy reporter at Business Insider. Benji previously worked as a wildlife researcher. HENDERSON COUNTY, North Carolina — Once again, I found myself staring at a crack in a large rock on the side of a mountain. It was June, and rainy, and I was searching for a glossy amphibian called the Hickory Nut Gorge green salamander. These animals, about the length of a human finger, are black with splotches of mint green. That makes them nearly invisible against the lichen-covered rocks they typically hide in. I had previously traveled here — to this very rock — in the spring of last year for a story about the salamanders of southern Appalachia. They are spectacular. With somewhere around a hundred species, the region, and particularly western North Carolina, near Asheville, is a global salamander hot spot. It has a higher concentration of salamanders than anywhere else in the world. A Hickory Nut Gorge green salamander that was rescued from the wild and is now in quarantine at the North Carolina Zoo. At the time of my 2024 visit, some of Appalachia's salamanders, including the Hickory Nut Gorge green, were already in trouble. These amphibious animals have an incredibly small range — they're found only in one valley, the Hickory Nut Gorge, southwest of Asheville. Commercial development, logging, and other threats shrank their population from as many as tens of thousands to just 300 to 500 individuals total, according to recent estimates. In 2021, North Carolina listed them as endangered and, in 2024, federal officials said protection under the Endangered Species Act may be warranted. Then came Hurricane Helene. The storm, which struck North Carolina in late September, killed dozens of people. It destroyed thousands of homes, many of which are still in pieces today. But it also took a severe toll on the state's wildlife, the species that make southern Appalachia so unique. Record flooding, landslides, and even some of the recovery efforts have drastically changed the landscape that salamanders rely on. This sudden destruction of habitat — some areas look as though they've been clearcut — is pushing the region's most endangered species even closer to extinction. So this June, I came back to witness a rescue mission. Flooding from Helene uprooted the forest around one of the only known breeding populations of Hickory Nut Gorge green salamanders, which makes up a significant portion of the entire species. It's not clear whether they will survive without trees or withstand another severe weather event. Government forecasters have again predicted an above-average hurricane season this year and central North Carolina has already faced deadly flooding from the remnants of storm Chantal, which struck parts of the state earlier this month. In the long term, warming from climate change is expected to intensify both hurricanes and flooding. Related These photos are literally saving jaguars Now, to save this population of greens — and perhaps the entire species — scientists are working quickly to bring a number of them into captivity. It's a strategy that's increasingly common in a heavily altered world: To save animals from blinking out, scientists have to build backup populations and manage them under human care. Months after Helene, parts of North Carolina are still wrecked A historic bridge that was turned into a flower garden near Lake Lure, North Carolina, is now covered in debris from Helene. If you're just passing through Asheville, it's hard to imagine that less than a year ago the city was hit by one of the worst natural disasters in state history. Downtown is bustling. The River Arts District — which was under water just months ago — looks like any trendy area with busy restaurants and bars. But if you look more closely, signs of Helene's devastation start to appear. Some sidewalks are missing pieces. Piles of dead trees fill empty lots. There are construction vehicles everywhere. And in some areas the damage is impossible to miss. In a charming district called Biltmore Village, which abuts the Swannanoa River, only the skeletons of some buildings remain, their insides rotted out or washed away. Even against this backdrop, however, Hickory Nut Gorge still looks worse. Carved by the Broad River, the steep valley of the gorge is harder to access and less populated, and so cleanup has been slow. The original road connecting the gorge's small towns, which were once local tourist destinations, doesn't exist anymore — it was swallowed by the river. You can only reach the gorge now on a temporary road that doesn't show up on Google Maps. Homes and inns are broken in half, still unrepaired. Cars and small buildings look like they've been tossed around like toys in a kid's room. A home spared by floodwaters in Hickory Nut Gorge. In some areas around Asheville, cars and small buildings that were picked up by floodwaters still litter the sides of roads. The flooding here that destroyed human infrastructure also wrecked the forests that blanket the ravine. Downpours triggered mudslides, unearthing boulders and uprooting trees, ultimately leaving large chunks of the gorge deforested. That's bad for salamanders, and especially for the Hickory Nut Gorge green, said JJ Apodaca, executive director of the Amphibian and Reptile Conservancy, an environmental group. Greens are lungless — they breathe through their skin. But that bit of biological magic requires water, so it only works if their skin is moist. That's why they live within the cracks in rocks on the forest floor: The shady canopy above helps keep their habitat cool and moist. Without shade, they dry out. Plus, greens spend part of the year in trees, where they feed on insects like ants and beetles. A section of forest in Hickory Nut Gorge wiped away by flooding in the wake of Hurricane Helene. None of this works without trees. And today, much of this habitat is treeless. Researchers are still assessing the damage, but early estimates by Apodaca, a salamander scientist, suggest Helene destroyed as much as 30 percent of the greens' total habitat in the gorge. According to the North Carolina Forest Service, the storm damaged more than a quarter of all forested areas in North Carolina counties that it passed through. One especially destructive blow is visible from the new road through the gorge: High up on the ravine, a large section of forest is missing, leveled by floodwaters or a mudslide. That bald spot is exactly where a population of breeding greens resides — and it's where this rescue mission has been taking place. A rescue mission for a very rare salamander Thunder gurgled in the distance as Apodaca and I hiked into the gorge late one afternoon. Apodaca has a soft spot for the Hickory Nut Gorge green — he was part of the team that first described this animal as a new species in 2019. 'They're just cool,' he told me, before explaining that they're visually striking, lungless, adapted to live in rock cracks, and skilled at climbing trees. After parking on the side of the road that wasn't on Google Maps, we waded across the Broad River — the water was calm and the color of chocolate milk — and then hiked into the woods. The easiest path uphill was through the large patch of forest cleared out by Helene's floodwaters. The ground was muddy and rocky, like the bottom of a river. It took us about 20 minutes to reach a large granite outcropping that Apodaca calls Party Rock, so named because it's where loads of greens normally hang out. The boulder, which was lined with several thin crevices, used to be shaded by the forest canopy, but now it's exposed to direct, harsh sunlight that's drying out the rock. Apodaca searches cracks in a rock outcropping for Hickory Nut Gorge green salamanders. This spring, once the gorge was accessible and he obtained permits, Apodaca began a rescue operation for the greens living in and around Party Rock. The plan was to bring about two dozen animals into captivity — animals that might otherwise die in the wild — as a sort of insurance policy for the species. 'The writing was on the wall,' said Lori Williams, a conservation biologist with the North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission, the state wildlife agency, who's involved in the rescue. 'We knew we were racing against time to do something.' Related Why thousands of people are traveling to one country to see these birds So far Apodaca has rescued 15 individuals, mostly from Party Rock, which he brought to the North Carolina Zoo. Apodaca has a permit to collect another 10 salamanders. That's why we were here now. According to Apodaca and Williams, 25 salamanders is enough to establish a breeding population, but not so many that it will further endanger the wild population. A Hickory Nut Gorge green salamander on the top of its temporary plastic enclosure at the NC Zoo. 'The fact that we've pushed this species so close to the edge makes it really hard to sit back and do nothing once something like this happens,' Apodaca told me. 'It's just to the point where we have to do something now or we're gonna lose a species.' Apodaca and I spent hours at Party Rock, staring into cracks with a flashlight. We spent so long doing this that I started seeing cracks even where there were no cracks. Every time my brain sensed movement I'd feel a jolt of adrenaline. But 10 times out of 10 it was a giant, leggy camel cricket. Party Rock was a bust. As the afternoon dragged on, we searched other boulders and explored some newly opened caves, which are good spots to find greens because they're cold and damp, Apodaca said. At one point I army crawled into a tight opening and when I looked up, careful not to ram my head against the ceiling, I saw a different salamander species staring back at me — a crevice salamander. It was black with cool blue spots. It stood frozen, and I was suddenly very aware that I was an intruder in its home. A crevice salamander hides in…a crevice…in Hickory Nut Gorge. We came across several more crevice salamanders. I managed to cover myself in poison ivy. But we found no greens. Apodaca was still 10 individuals short of his quota. It could be that we were too late in the season, Apodaca said. As spring warms to summer, the heat drives the salamanders deeper into their crevices. But another, more troubling explanation is that not many of the greens here survived the damage from Helene, and Apodaca has already captured most of those that did. 'This site is probably gone,' Apodaca told me. Apodaca plans to return to Party Rock in the fall to try and collect more individuals, though he's not sure if they'll be able to hold on that long. For now, the captive population relies on just 15 greens — all but four of which are male. A conservation insurance policy In a small windowless room at the North Carolina Zoo, several containers labeled with masking tape sat atop a folding table. They were made of thin plastic and shaped like circular cookie tins. Each container, though unremarkable, held something precious inside a bit of damp paper towel: a Hickory Nut Gorge green salamander. Their green splotches looked even more vibrant up close, like they had caught crossfire in a paintball match. Their eyes bulged from their heads and their hands, painfully adorable, had tiny digits that looked like ET's fingers, but in miniature. A tank at the NC Zoo containing moss to create lifelike terrariums for the salamanders in captivity. A Hickory Nut Gorge green salamander in a plastic container at the NC Zoo. These salamanders — which are now in quarantine, away from other amphibians at the zoo — may hold the key to the future of their entire species. The goal is to breed these individuals in captivity, said Dustin Smith, the curator of reptiles, amphibians, fish, and invertebrates at the zoo, which is also involved in the rescue operation. And luckily, the four females they have in the collection were already pregnant when they were captured and each carrying a dozen or so eggs. On the afternoon I visited the captive salamanders with Apodaca, Shaina Lampert, a research associate at the zoo, took out what looked like a very old laptop. It was a miniature ultrasound machine. A cord connected a small probe to the machine, which she gently ran over the belly of one of the female salamanders. Several black circles appeared on the screen: eggs. 'This is the next generation of this species,' Apodaca said. The entrance to a room at the NC Zoo where salamanders are kept. The Hickory Nut Gorge greens will be brought here after they finish a period of quarantine. Benji Jones/Vox Apodaca shows me the eggs inside the belly of a female Hickory Nut Gorge green salamander. Benji Jones/Vox Ideally, the females will soon lay their eggs, the captive population will grow, and the team overseeing the rescue mission will return some of them back to the wild, Williams said, assuming there's high-quality habitat left in the gorge. That's still unclear. Apodaca searches a stream for hellbenders, a type of large aquatic salamander. But ultimately, the success — or failure — in saving the Hickory Nut Gorge green will go largely unnoticed. These animals live in a remote region, tucked away in crevices; they're hard to find even for the few people who know what to look for. Why then does it matter that we save them? Like any salamander, like any animal, the greens play an important role in their ecosystem, as both predator and prey. They help limit the number of insects, including those humans don't like. That's been shown to help keep carbon locked up in the forest that might otherwise contribute to climate change. They're little climate heroes. It's not a stretch to say that without salamanders, forest ecosystems in southern Appalachia could collapse. And those are the ecosystems that provide water to towns and attract tourists that fuel the local economy. But more than that, Apodaca says, these salamanders simply have a right to exist. That's why he's fighting to protect them — why he's been hiking into a disaster zone week after week.
Time Magazine
03-07-2025
- Time Magazine
Bald Eagles Are Thriving. Could Trump Change That?
It was only a few decades ago that the bald eagle, which has long been an American icon, was on the brink of extinction. Its comeback is largely credited to the Endangered Species Act, a 1973 law that established protections for threatened species—including the bald eagle. 'The bald eagle has been a poster child for the effectiveness of the Endangered Species Act,' says Bill Bowerman, professor of wildlife ecology and toxicology at the University of Maryland. It was only on Christmas Eve last year that the Biden Administration officially designated the bird as America's national bird. But now, as the Trump Administration proposes a rule change that would alter the definition of 'harm' under the act, the Endangered Species Act's power to preserve habitats and protected species around the country could be at risk. The goal of the Endangered Species Act is to provide a framework for saving threatened animals and their environments. The act ended up recovering the bald eagle, considered near extinction in the 1960s, with only 417 known nesting pairs recorded in the lower 48 states in 1963. Now, the bird is no longer under threat; they were delisted from the Endangered Species Act in 2007. Today, there are over 71,400 nesting pairs of bald eagles in the wild. These birds of prey seem to be thriving. Many might not know, but bald eagles are migratory birds. While some choose to live in the same region year-round, others travel far distances during the year. And their range is expanding with our changing climate; during their migration season, the birds are now moving further north than in previous years, and are laying their eggs earlier. Scientists say they are keeping an eye on these changes, though. While they are not yet impacting the bird's reproduction or food sources, they are seeing new challenges emerge. 'This year, at the end of March in Michigan, there was a three day freezing rain event, and it put up to one inch thick ice on trees,' says Bowerman. 'So it brought down some nest sites.' During their migrations they also rely heavily on National Parks—many of which have been facing cuts under the Trump Administration. 'When they migrate, it appears that they use state, national, county, federal parks, or protected lands as stepping stones,' says Scott Rush, associate professor the department of wildlife, fisheries, and aquaculture at Mississippi State University. 'If we lose some of these areas, we don't have the support mechanisms for these birds over these large places.' It's not just the likely elimination of protections to National Parks, however, that could impact the birds. Opening up more forests to industry is also a potential threat to their habitats. In April, the Trump Administration proposed a rule change that would continue to prohibit actions that harm or kill endangered species, but rescind protections for their habitats. Habitat destruction is the greatest threat to endangered species—and could put others at risk. The move is part of the administration's plan to increase drilling and logging in the United States. Regardless of whether these changes come into effect, our daily habits could also be impacting bald eagles. These days, one of the leading killers for bald eagles is electrocution from power lines. 'As temperature changes, whether it be hotter or colder, there's a greater need for more electricity, and a lot of bald eagles nest on utility towers, and some of the issues with utility towers is that the birds can get electrocuted or they can cause outages,' says Rush. Bowerman says that it serves as a reminder that we should be doing more, not less, when it comes to protecting the species that live alongside us. 'We need to have greater appreciation for species and learn about them before we discount them and just write them off.'
Yahoo
01-07-2025
- Yahoo
The Ocean Still Holds Mysteries. That's Why We Must Save It
A diver surveys a coral reef on Nov, 27, 2017 near the Comoros archipelago, Indian Ocean. Credit - Alexis Rosenfeld—Getty Images When the world's first marine reserves were established in the 1920s, Jacques Cousteau was an adolescent. The deepest we could dive was about 500 ft. Humans were beginning to imagine what could be beneath the surface, what discoveries lay waiting, and what might deserve protecting. Nearly a century later, we've made a lot of progress. The ocean is the center of the world economy, providing food, labor, transportation, tourism, and so much more. It has brought us promising treatments for disease, animal-inspired engineering and robotics, and even the basis for space exploration technology. Inspired by the U.N. Decade of Ocean Science—which launched a 10-year push for action in 2021—marine researchers, philanthropists, and political leaders worldwide aim to map the entire seafloor and identify 100,000 new species by 2030. And at the United Nations Ocean Conference (UNOC) earlier this month, the global community made progress on financial commitments for preservation, support for pausing deep-sea mining, expanding marine protected areas—with French Polynesia notably vowing to protect 900,000 square kilometers of sea—and on the High Seas Treaty to protect marine life in international waters. And yet, much remains to be discovered about our ocean and its role in sustaining all life on Earth—and much remains to be done to protect it. To build on the momentum of UNOC, ocean conservation—through robust marine protected areas and other measures—must continue to advance, alongside exploration and research. And until the next conference in 2028, while governments must lead the way, every sector of society has a role in saving the seas. Read more: Fishing Communities in the Philippines Are Fighting for their Future as Waters Rise Over the past two decades, evidence has repeatedly shown that protecting the ocean supports not only the planet but also all of us who rely on it. One recent study found that protecting swaths of ocean increases catch for valuable fish, including large migratory species like bigeye and yellowfin tuna, which alone support $40 billion in global business. Another report showed that marine protected areas not only help rebuild fish stock, they also drive higher income and food security for nearby coastal communities. Despite the evidence, and despite our advances toward better stewardship, however, we are facing strong headwinds: from reversals on protected areas to warming ocean waters. Governments, international and civil society organizations, and philanthropies like the Schmidt Ocean Institute, Schmidt Sciences, Dona Bertarelli Philanthropy, and the Bertarelli Foundation, which we help lead, are stepping up to support ocean exploration and protection efforts—and it's working. Public-private sector partnerships will be essential in moving the needle from ocean science to ocean action. The waters surrounding the Galapagos Islands provide an example of what's possible through long-term partnership across sectors. Famed for their endemic plant and animal life that inspired Charles Darwin's theory of evolution, the islands' waters were first granted legal protection 50 years ago. Today, the reserve, managed by the Ecuadorian government in consultation with local fishers and scientists, allows for fishing and tourism while keeping stricter rules in more sensitive areas. Ecuador recently added more than 23,000 square miles to the protected waters, working in partnership with Costa Rica, Colombia, and Panama. In a deal supported by Dona Bertarelli Philanthropy through Pew Bertarelli Ocean Legacy and other partners, Ecuador converted $1.6 billion of its existing commercial debt into a $656 million loan that will provide $12 million in financing for marine conservation activities each year, in perpetuity. Complementing this work, the Bertarelli Philanthropy also supported the development of the Global Fishing Watch Marine Manager, which provides open-source, interactive data on the Galapagos area, and worldwide, to support conservation, policy, and research. Read more: The World Isn't Valuing Oceans Properly Indeed, scientists are still uncovering new findings around the Galapagos. The Schmidt Ocean Institute's philanthropic research vessel Falkor (too) undertook two expeditions around the islands in 2023 and encountered two large, pristine coral reefs as well as a hydrothermal vent field—all previously unknown to humankind, all livestreamed for free on YouTube to anyone who wished to watch. As with the Global Fishing Watch Marine Manager, the livestream offers an intimate connection with the ocean for a global audience—a far cry from the days when only a few humans had the chance to explore, and at no great depth. Both the reefs and vents offer clues about the still dramatically under-researched deep sea and the role it plays in keeping the broader ocean, and indeed the entire planet, healthy. The Galapagos aren't the only place where marine protected areas (MPA) have benefited both people and the planet. A recent study of 59 MPAs established by California—which created a network of reserves in 1999—saw more and larger fish across the entire network, particularly in species sought by fisheries. This was true despite the MPAs being diverse in how they choose to ban or limit activities like fishing, shipping, and tourism—though stronger and longer lasting protections correlated with more significant results. The more we explore and protect the ocean, the more we reap the benefits, whether in the form of economic returns or scientific breakthroughs. Advancing conservation—through MPAs as well as a host of complementary policies and data collection efforts—supports economies and scientific research in a virtuous cycle. The world has come a long way from just a century ago, when we could only see as far into the ocean as the sun allowed. As philanthropists, we seek to contribute to a better understanding of the ocean through science and data—the groundwork for accountability and action. We call on the policymakers, experts, and advocates—and everyone who is enthralled by the sea—to remember that the more we search and the more we find, the closer we come to a healthy ocean and a healthy planet. Dona Bertarelli is executive chair of Dona Bertarelli Philanthropy and co-chair of the Bertarelli Foundation. Wendy Schmidt is co-founder and president of the Schmidt Ocean Institute and co-founder of Schmidt Sciences. Contact us at letters@
