Latest news with #GulfOfMaine
Yahoo
05-07-2025
- Yahoo
Lion's mane jellyfish spotted off New England coast. What jellyfish might you see in RI?
For more than 500 million years – well before dinosaurs ever thought of existing – jellyfish have floated through the world's oceans. Today, 2,000 species of jellyfish have been discovered around the world, including an 'immortal jellyfish' that can rejuvenate itself and ones that can grow to be bigger than humans. While you're not likely to run into a human-size jellyfish while taking a dip off the Rhode Island shoreline, there are plenty of jellyfish to be found. Particularly, in the summer months when warmer waters create prime conditions for jellyfish blooms. While certain jellyfish are more common, sometimes a stray shows up. For example, recently lion's mane jellyfish, which pack a painful sting, have been surging in the Gulf of Maine. They are sometimes spotted in Rhode Island in the spring and summer. But, here are five species of jellyfish you might encounter in Rhode Island. The moon jelly is the most common jellyfish in Rhode Island and is found floating in open water near the surface. These jellyfish are white with a dome shape and 4 horseshoe-shaped gonads, that can be orange or pink in appearance, visible from the top. The good news about these guys is, according to Mystic Aquarium, their sting is mild. One jellyfish that does pack a powerful sting is the Atlantic Sea Nettle, with long, thin, twining tentacles trailing behind it. This jellyfish is more often found in the South County salt ponds, such as Ninigret and Green Hill Ponds rather than the open ocean. Some years there are enough of them that The Rhode Island Department of Health (RIDOH) and the Rhode Island Department of Environmental Management (DEM) issue a warning to be careful, as their sting can cause 'moderate discomfort and itching welts.' If stung, it's recommended to wash the area with vinegar, not fresh water. More advice: What to do if you're stung by a sea nettle Small but mighty, this isn't a jellyfish you want to come across. The clinging jellyfish is about the size of a dime and are most recognizable by an orange-brown cross on their transparent body. They pack a powerful sting that has sent several Rhode Island beachgoers to the hospital. Their preferred habitat is clinging to vegetation like eelgrass, so you're not likely to have a run-in with one while on R.I.'s sandy beaches. Advice: How to protect yourself from clinging jellyfish Technically not a jellyfish, the Man O'War is a group of organisms acting as one to survive. They're named for the way their top resembles a warship at full sail. The sail, which can be blue, violet or pink, can float up to 6 inches above the water. Below are tentacles that can grow up to 100 feet. While they aren't typically found in abundance off of Rhode Island's ocean beaches, sightings are reported nearly every year. If you see something that resembles a balloon floating on top of the water, stay away. The Man O'War packs a powerful sting, capable of sending someone to the hospital. The tentacles are harmful even when they have detached from the body. A deep dive: More to know about Portuguese men o' war Often called a jellyfish because of its gelatinous body, the comb jellyfish is technically a ctenophore. These creatures – which grow to be 4 or 5 inches long – have no sting. Recent studies have found the comb jellies are present in Narragansett Bay for a longer season as water temperatures have risen. This article originally appeared on The Providence Journal: Rhode Island jellyfish can pack a sting. Here are 5 to be aware of
Yahoo
25-06-2025
- Science
- Yahoo
Thresher sharks spotted off the Seacoast. But don't worry, you're not on the menu!
The sharks are here. The water temperature in the Gulf of Maine is well below average for this time of year, which should not surprise anyone considering how cold the air temperature has been. This doesn't seem to have deterred our toothy friends. This week, while fishing rod and reel, my husband had a lengthy encounter with a thresher shark. It appeared to be a juvenile, about 6 feet, with an additional 3-foot tail fin. The shark kept attacking fish that David was reeling in, but the shark couldn't seem to bite them off the line. This occurred several times over about 30 minutes when the shark just left. It seems the shark just let the fish go. It seemed to have decided to wait for David to throw back any undersized fish, fill up on them, and then leave the area. This was only the second time in half a century that David had encountered a thresher. The shark's behavior was a little puzzling. I don't think the shark quite knew what to do with a fish that was actively trying to get away— like the ones being reeled in on a fishing rod. Thresher sharks have a unique way of stalking their prey. Until about a decade ago, scientists had no proof of how a thresher used its tail. But finally, they filmed one as it attacked a school of fish. Like a swordfish, the thresher swims into the middle of a school of fish and then whacks their tail back and forth, stunning the fish and creating bubbles and confusion. They then swim through the school and munch down on the stunned fish. Thus, a juvenile thresher may not be accustomed to a fish that actively tries to get away like the one at the end of David's line. Just a guess, but it seems logical to me. More: Gulf of Maine's oddest beach bum spotted at York's Long Sands Beach Thresher sharks have a unique fin construction. Sharks have no bones in their bodies as they are cartilaginous fish, meaning they have a skeleton made of cartilage. They are efficient eating machines. With their flexible skeleton, their entire body has evolved to be a sleek stealth predator. In the case of thresher sharks, their top caudal fin (top of the tail fin) has elongated to about half the length of their body. This has become a weapon to stun their prey. These animals have been known to hunt in pairs and are very efficient at herding a school of fish and then stunning them into submission. On a positive note, threshers are not considered to be a danger to humans. They prefer schools of fish. Lucky us! According to NOAA Fisheries, Atlantic threshers can live up to 50 years, which is quite long for a shark. The females mature at about 9 feet, which appears to be around 5 years, older than most sharks. They give birth to small numbers of live young. Those young develop inside the female for a full 9 months before birth. The same gestation period as humans! More: Hampton Beach Oceanarium hosts Lucky, a one-in-30-million 'feisty' orange lobster Threshers are not named for the thrashing motion of their tail, as many assume. Instead, their name comes from a farming technique that separates wheat from chaff. A threshing machine whips back and forth—much like the shark's tail fin. The tail also resembles a scythe, traditionally used to cut hay with a similar swinging motion. Back to David's fishing line. Most threshers are not hooked with a normal hook and line, but they usually are caught with the line wrapped around their tail and, boy, do they fight. This leads me to believe that David's shark was behaving normally by spitting out the fish when they were reeled in. Threshers are not normally caught in commercial fisheries except as a bycatch. They are regulated but not in danger of overfishing. According to NOAA, they migrate long distances following plankton blooms, which attract the schools of fish they feed on. Several years ago, I was down on the Hampton Pier before dawn pumping water for my tanks. Half asleep, I stumbled over something on the pier. After tripping over it repeatedly, it finally dawned on me that it could be the tail fin of a thresher shark. I threw it into the back of the truck and drove home. When I arrived, I threw it on the driveway as it was really smelly and went off to do talks in a school. When I got home that day, my husband sighed, 'I see you found it.' I knew he meant the shark tail, as I was always bringing strange things home. He confirmed that it was a thresher shark. And that it had been lying on the pier for over a week. None of the commercial fishermen would touch it as they were not allowed to catch threshers. It had been left there by a recreational fisherman over the weekend. It is now hanging on the wall in the Oceanarium for our visitors to touch. Oh yeah, don't worry, the smell is gone! Ellen Goethel is a marine biologist and the owner of Explore the Ocean World Oceanarium at 367 Ocean Blvd. at Hampton Beach. This article originally appeared on Portsmouth Herald: Thresher sharks spotted off the Seacoast — But they're not after you
Yahoo
09-06-2025
- Science
- Yahoo
Federal cuts may hurt Maine's ability to meet climate goals, scientists say
Jun. 9—Scientists and fishermen are eager to learn more about a sudden cooling in the deep waters of the Gulf of Maine, a new mystery in a body of water as well known in global science circles for its rapid warming as it is among foodies for its lobsters, oysters and scallops. That will be hard to do under a proposed federal budget that cuts funds for a national ocean monitoring system. "People are talking (about the cooling). Is this a reset?" asked Susie Arnold, a marine scientist with the Island Institute in Rockland. "Well, what do you use to find that out? You look at the buoys. Those are one of the primary tools that we use to understand oceanography in the Gulf of Maine." Arnold was referring to a network of floating research stations that monitor currents, temperature and other data points used by scientists to track changes in the gulf. She is one of about 40 scientists who advise the Maine Climate Council, the state-appointed commission that develops the state climate action plan, Maine Won't Wait. The scientists provide the raw science behind the plan, documenting the effects of climate change and projecting future sea level rise and warming. And these scientists are worried, both about the coming changes in climate and their ability to study them. And they believe recent federal budget and staffing cuts may prevent Maine from achieving its climate goals, including those set in the November update to Maine Won't Wait but also those already codified in state law. Federal grant cuts might mean they won't even have the tools to know if Maine is meeting its goals. Maine has written four greenhouse gas goals into state law to compel the government to do its part to curb climate change and prevent the earth from overheating: cut emissions 10% from 1990 levels by 2020, 45% by 2030, 80% by 2050, and achieve carbon neutrality by 2045. Last year, the Department of Environmental Protection announced Maine had met its easiest emissions goal — a 10% reduction by 2020 — and was 91% of the way toward meeting its carbon neutrality goal by 2045. It has a long way to go for its next goal — 17.3 million tons, or a 45% cut — and only six years to do it. Maine relies on the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency's state inventory and projection tool as a starting point to estimate its gross greenhouse gas inventory. DEP is "cautiously optimistic" that annual updates to this tool will continue, but it won't know for sure until November, when the EPA's next data release is scheduled. Members of the council's scientific and technical subcommittee, which Arnold co-chairs, met Thursday to talk about writing a new report on both the evolving science, including the Gulf of Maine's new deep water cooling trend, and the changed political landscape. They decided to write an update to last year's plan by April. They cited more than a dozen at-risk or eliminated federally run or funded scientific programs, ranging from an environmental justice screening tool that Maine uses to help identify socially vulnerable communities to coastal zone management grants that help communities prepare and bounce back from climate challenges like flooding. The U.S. Center for Disease Control climate and health program is targeted for elimination in Trump's proposed budget, and most of its staff has been fired. Without this funding, Maine will probably have to scrap its statewide pollen monitoring network before it fully starts and suspend plans to help counties develop extreme heat plans. The scientists tried to maintain political neutrality while ticking off the disappearing federal climate data sources. "We're not the Union of Concerned Scientists," said co-chair Ivan Fernandez of the University of Maine's Climate Change Institute, referring to a group of scientists who advocate for aggressive action against climate change. "That said, the kind of information that we've seen in the inventory clearly impacts how we think about the research that's being done in critical questions, monitoring, and data sets." That clearly hinders the work of scientists, the subcommittee and the Maine Climate Council as a whole, he said. In some cases, the state could turn to private climate data sources, but that could raise concerns over objectivity, such as who is funding that data collection. Scientists noted it could also drive up the costs of accessing that data after the private companies have the market to themselves. Copy the Story Link
Yahoo
31-05-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
Tracking Maine's wild mussel beds: declining or retreating into the deep?
May 31—The wild blue mussel beds that once blanketed Maine's dynamic intertidal zone are disappearing, driven out by warming water that not only hurts the mussels themselves but benefits one of its chief predators, the highly invasive and always hungry green crab. Scientists at the Gulf of Maine Research Institute want to know if the intertidal disappearing act is a sign the blue mussel population is in decline or in retreat, with its local beds gradually moving out of the easy-to-spot intertidal into the colder waters of the more far-flung subtidal zone. "For the last 10 to 15 years, everybody has been saying mussels are disappearing," said research associate Aaron Whitman. "We think the beds are just moving out past the low tide line. But just because you don't see them twice a day doesn't mean they're not out there." A 2017 study estimated Maine's wild blue mussel population has dropped 60% since the 1970s. Like baby lobsters, however, the mussel beds may have simply traded warmer for cooler, fleeing the warm intertidal for the somewhat cooler subtidal, inch by inch, one generation at a time. But that makes the beds much harder to find. That is why GMRI is enlisting the help of citizen volunteers to help it find, measure and track these subtidal beds, the edges of which are only visible at extremely low tide, so it can document the health of the local population, especially in a changing climate. On Friday morning, Whitman and Carissa Maurin, GMRI's aquaculture program manager, led a group of two dozen employees of M&T Bank out to Mackworth Island in Falmouth to document its subtidal mussel bed during peak minus tide, or one that was about a foot lower than normal. "I love the environment," said Roxanne Gray, a mortgage originator in the Brunswick branch. "I've been a Mainer my entire life, so for me, being able to be a part of what keeps Maine a beautiful, healthy state, is really important." They documented conditions (muddy), recorded the presence of predators (green crabs) and measured individual mussels (from three-quarters of an inch to almost five inches) at a mussel bed that Whitman said appears to have shrunk in size since GMRI surveyed it last year. The bed has slowly moved, too, not just into colder subtidal waters but around the island itself, according to old state survey maps. The maps date to the early 2000s, which is the last time Maine surveyed mussel beds. Updating the state list will be harder now that many beds are submerged most of the time. That is why GMRI encourages groups like M&T as well as everyday Mainers all along Maine's 3,500-mile coastline to monitor their coastal areas on minus tide days, record what they see (even if there aren't any blue mussels), and share it by entering the data into GMRI's Ecosystem Investigation Network. "We can't just take our boat and map all of Casco Bay, much less the rest of the state," Maurin told M&T employees gathered around her in ankle-deep mud. "We don't have that much time, or enough staff. So knowing where to start looking is super important. That's where you come in." M&T offers all of its 22,000 employees 40 hours of paid time to do volunteer work like this, according to Regional President Philip Cohen, who was trudging across the flats alongside employees Friday despite a braced knee from a recent surgery. GMRI scientists will use that information to decide where to employ acoustic equipment to investigate a mussel bed, Whitman said. The equipment bounces sound waves off the sea bed and measures the echo, much like a dolphin does, to detect different bottom types and find active mussel beds. Mussels are important because people like to eat them, making them a part of Maine's fishing economy. And the wild mussel beds are critical suppliers of the spat, or fertilized eggs, needed to seed Maine's next mussel crop, Maurin said. Oyster farmers can get spat from hatcheries; Maine's mussel farmers need wild spat. Mussel beds provide critical habitat for juvenile fish, with the kelp and seaweed that grow there able to hide them from predators. Mussels also function as living water filters, removing excess nitrogen and phosphorus, while sequestering carbon into their shells. While beds are retreating into colder, deeper waters, the Gulf of Maine is also rising. The gulf is warming three times faster than the planetary average and rising about 2.5 times faster in recent years than it did over the last century, according to the Maine Climate Council. Some data suggests deeper waters in the Gulf of Maine may be cooling because of a recent shift in currents, while surface temperatures that affect mussel beds have been rising fast. About 90% of global warming is occurring in the ocean, causing the water's internal heat to increase, according to the U.S. National Aeronautics and Space Administration. Heat stored in the ocean causes the water to expand, which is responsible for one-third to one-half of global sea level rise. The sea surface temperatures in the Gulf of Maine in 2021 and 2022 were the warmest on record. The gulf spent 97% of 2022 in a marine heat wave. With an annual average of 52 degrees, the surface temperature of the gulf is about 2 degrees hotter now than it was 30 years ago. Copy the Story Link
Yahoo
31-05-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
Tracking Maine's wild mussel beds: declining or retreating into the deep?
May 31—The wild blue mussel beds that once blanketed Maine's dynamic intertidal zone are disappearing, driven out by warming water that not only hurts the mussels themselves but benefits one of its chief predators, the highly invasive and always hungry green crab. Scientists at the Gulf of Maine Research Institute want to know if the intertidal disappearing act is a sign the blue mussel population is in decline or in retreat, with its local beds gradually moving out of the easy-to-spot intertidal into the colder waters of the more far-flung subtidal zone. "For the last 10 to 15 years, everybody has been saying mussels are disappearing," said research associate Aaron Whitman. "We think the beds are just moving out past the low tide line. But just because you don't see them twice a day doesn't mean they're not out there." A 2017 study estimated Maine's wild blue mussel population has dropped 60% since the 1970s. Like baby lobsters, however, the mussel beds may have simply traded warmer for cooler, fleeing the warm intertidal for the somewhat cooler subtidal, inch by inch, one generation at a time. But that makes the beds much harder to find. That is why GMRI is enlisting the help of citizen volunteers to help it find, measure and track these subtidal beds, the edges of which are only visible at extremely low tide, so it can document the health of the local population, especially in a changing climate. On Friday morning, Whitman and Carissa Maurin, GMRI's aquaculture program manager, led a group of two dozen employees of M&T Bank out to Mackworth Island in Falmouth to document its subtidal mussel bed during peak minus tide, or one that was about a foot lower than normal. "I love the environment," said Roxanne Gray, a mortgage originator in the Brunswick branch. "I've been a Mainer my entire life, so for me, being able to be a part of what keeps Maine a beautiful, healthy state, is really important." They documented conditions (muddy), recorded the presence of predators (green crabs) and measured individual mussels (from three-quarters of an inch to almost five inches) at a mussel bed that Whitman said appears to have shrunk in size since GMRI surveyed it last year. The bed has slowly moved, too, not just into colder subtidal waters but around the island itself, according to old state survey maps. The maps date to the early 2000s, which is the last time Maine surveyed mussel beds. Updating the state list will be harder now that many beds are submerged most of the time. That is why GMRI encourages groups like M&T as well as everyday Mainers all along Maine's 3,500-mile coastline to monitor their coastal areas on minus tide days, record what they see (even if there aren't any blue mussels), and share it by entering the data into GMRI's Ecosystem Investigation Network. "We can't just take our boat and map all of Casco Bay, much less the rest of the state," Maurin told M&T employees gathered around her in ankle-deep mud. "We don't have that much time, or enough staff. So knowing where to start looking is super important. That's where you come in." M&T offers all of its 22,000 employees 40 hours of paid time to do volunteer work like this, according to Regional President Philip Cohen, who was trudging across the flats alongside employees Friday despite a braced knee from a recent surgery. GMRI scientists will use that information to decide where to employ acoustic equipment to investigate a mussel bed, Whitman said. The equipment bounces sound waves off the sea bed and measures the echo, much like a dolphin does, to detect different bottom types and find active mussel beds. Mussels are important because people like to eat them, making them a part of Maine's fishing economy. And the wild mussel beds are critical suppliers of the spat, or fertilized eggs, needed to seed Maine's next mussel crop, Maurin said. Oyster farmers can get spat from hatcheries; Maine's mussel farmers need wild spat. Mussel beds provide critical habitat for juvenile fish, with the kelp and seaweed that grow there able to hide them from predators. Mussels also function as living water filters, removing excess nitrogen and phosphorus, while sequestering carbon into their shells. While beds are retreating into colder, deeper waters, the Gulf of Maine is also rising. The gulf is warming three times faster than the planetary average and rising about 2.5 times faster in recent years than it did over the last century, according to the Maine Climate Council. Some data suggests deeper waters in the Gulf of Maine may be cooling because of a recent shift in currents, while surface temperatures that affect mussel beds have been rising fast. About 90% of global warming is occurring in the ocean, causing the water's internal heat to increase, according to the U.S. National Aeronautics and Space Administration. Heat stored in the ocean causes the water to expand, which is responsible for one-third to one-half of global sea level rise. The sea surface temperatures in the Gulf of Maine in 2021 and 2022 were the warmest on record. The gulf spent 97% of 2022 in a marine heat wave. With an annual average of 52 degrees, the surface temperature of the gulf is about 2 degrees hotter now than it was 30 years ago. Copy the Story Link
