Grading ocean health: 60/100

The Ocean Health Index is the first global quantitative assessment of ocean health (Map credit: Halpern, et al, Nature)

The health of the world’s oceans received a score of 60 out of 100 from a team of international scientists, including researchers with the Sea Around Us Project. Kristin Kleisner, Dirk Zeller, Rashid Sumailaand Daniel Pauly were part of the team that undertook the first global quantitative assessment of ocean health and created the Ocean Health Index by evaluating ecological, social, economic and political conditions for every coastal nation in the world.

The Sea Around Us Project in particular was responsible for measuring the amount of seafood that is sustainably generated by fisheries and marine aquaculture for human consumption, which contributed to calculating the score for ocean health.

The article, published in Nature, is available here and the press release is here.

Of leatherbacks and lion’s manes

by Lucas Brotz

Lucas Brotz (right) helps DFO crew aboard the CCGS W.E. Ricker sort the catch of the day: juvenile salmon and lion’s mane jellyfish.

I study jellyfish, so you can imagine my surprise when I received an e-mail last year from a recovery planner for the Canadian Species at Risk Act (SARA). I am certainly not aware of any jellyfish in the world that is classified as threatened or endangered, let alone in Canadian waters where we know very little about our gelatinous fauna! On the contrary to being at risk, many jellyfish are in fact increasing in coastal ecosystems around the world. However, the subject of the recovery plan in question was not jellyfish at all, but rather the leatherback sea turtle (Dermochelys coriacea). What did I know about reptiles? Well, not much, but I was aware of one fact about leatherbacks: they are known to eat jellyfish. The reasons behind the e-mail were starting to materialize, and I was intrigued.

As their name suggests, leatherbacks do not have a hard shell like the other six species of sea turtles alive today. Rather, their shell consists of smooth, leathery skin with seven ridges running its length. Such reptiles first appeared in the fossil record about 100 million years ago when their family branched off from other hard-shelled turtles, underlining the fact that these are truly ancient mariners. Leatherbacks are massive creatures. They frequently grow to hundreds of kilograms and can potentially surpass a tonne. From tip to tail the largest exceed three meters, with their flippers spanning more than four meters.

The leatherback’s list of superlatives is nearly as large as the animals themselves! Among reptiles they are the fastest growing, fastest moving, and except for a few crocodiles, the heaviest. They are also among the most widely distributed animals in the world, mainly due to migrations that put all but a few marine mammals and bird species to shame. Surprisingly, they are also warm-blooded, and are therefore able to survive in environments far beyond the reach of their cold-blooded relatives. Believe it or not, leatherbacks have been sighted north of the Arctic Circle! To top this off, leatherbacks have been recorded diving deeper than a kilometer, plunging further into the abyss than almost all other air-breathers.

But perhaps the most astounding fact about this fascinating species (although I will admit, I am biased) is that leatherbacks can grow so large, travel so far and dive so deep on a diet consisting almost exclusively of jellyfish!

Why is this surprising? Jellyfish are roughly 95% water, therefore obtaining sufficient nutrition from them requires some serious feasting. A leatherback can consume hundreds of kilograms of jellyfish in a single day, which not only appears to supply all of their energetic demands, but also allows them to fatten up for return migrations to breeding areas. Part of the success of such a strategy relies on the fact that jellyfish often occur in dense aggregations known as blooms. In addition, jellyfish have virtually no escape response, especially from an animal as fast and maneuverable as a sea turtle. Therefore, locating dense blooms of jellies is likely key for leatherback feeding success and appears to be the sole reason why they embark on vast migrations from breeding areas in the tropics to more temperate areas, including Canadian waters.

So now you can understand why someone who studies jellyfish would receive an e-mail about endangered sea turtles. And endangered they are. While there are a number of reasons for optimism regarding leatherbacks in the Atlantic, the Pacific populations appear to be on an alarming trajectory. Their numbers are uncertain, but it is estimated that there are fewer than 3,000 nesting females left – a precipitous crash of more than 97% in only a few decades. Numbers continue to decline, and Pacific leatherbacks appear dangerously close to extinction.

As one might imagine, sightings of leatherbacks in Canadian Pacific waters are relatively rare, averaging only about one per year. While that is not a lot, members of the population do visit here. And in order to survive unthinkable migrations from remote breeding sites in Indonesia and the Solomon Islands, those turtles visiting Canada’s west coast are likely the largest and heartiest of the population. Therefore helping or saving just a few of these individuals could be crucial for a subpopulation’s survival. The areas used by leatherbacks to feed on jellyfish blooms in British Columbia represent critical habitat, but unfortunately we know relatively little about the jellyfish living in Canadian waters. Migrating leatherbacks are likely feasting on an abundance of large “true jellyfish” (class Scyphozoa), including lion’s mane jellies (Cyanea capillata), sea nettles (Chrysaora fuscescens) and moon jellies (Aurelia labiata). In order to better understand the abundance and distribution of these species, I began working with Department of Fisheries and Oceans (DFO) scientists and technicians.

Interestingly, most of the scientists I worked with are salmon specialists. This is mainly because salmon scientists possess one thing that pretty much all marine biologists and oceanographers covet: ship time. DFO crews conduct integrated ecosystem surveys several times each year in the coastal waters of British Columbia and have implemented consistent sampling methods since 1998. These sustained, year-round surveys along repeat transects are a rarity in an age of funding cuts, and the resultant datasets provide a wealth of valuable information. In addition to collecting oceanographic data, these surveys involve tows using large trawl nets to collect and study juvenile salmon populations. The unwanted by-catch in these trawls can include large jellyfish. Properly identifying and monitoring these jellyfish catches could provide new and valuable insights into these organisms in our coastal waters. This information may also be indispensable, I believe, for understanding the relationship between critically endangered leatherbacks and their gelatinous prey.

All of the scientists I worked with recognized the importance of collecting such information, and together we developed a procedure that we hope will create a permanent record of all future jellyfish catch. While I was eager to convince those I collaborated with to gather as much data as possible, I had to keep in mind that jellyfish were not the focus of the surveys and any procedure too onerous was unlikely to be adopted. Therefore, the protocol was designed to minimize the effort required for jellyfish processing, while at the same time maximizing the amount of useful information collected. In addition, a step-wise approach to jellyfish monitoring was recommended, whereby scientists and technicians can collect a minimum amount of data on jellyfish if they are analysing other catch, or obtain more detailed information if processing time allows. Thanks to this collaboration between DFO, SARA recovery planners and the Fisheries Centre, we should be able to rapidly increase our understanding of jellyfish in coastal waters in the coming years, as well as identify those regions that might be most important for foraging leatherbacks.

While eating jellyfish appears to have been a successful strategy for leatherbacks for millions of years, there are disadvantages to having a gelatinous diet in the contemporary world. Plastic debris, which now litters the oceans, often looks very much like jellyfish. Studies have found more than a third of examined leatherbacks have plastic in their intestines and the proportion for dead leatherbacks is double that. But perhaps the largest threat to leatherbacks is as a result of their trans-oceanic migrations between breeding and feeding areas. These epic journeys bring leatherbacks into repeated contact with the ocean’s most fearsome predator – humans. Leatherbacks are frequently caught as unintended by-catch or become entangled in the miles of fishing gear that crisscross the oceans. Anything that prevents turtles, which are air-breathers, from reaching the surface will cause death in less than an hour. Compound these dangers with poaching for turtle meat and eggs, global warming and an overall lack of awareness about the problems, and you start to read the Pacific leatherback’s epitaph.

An individual leatherback endures what seems like a life of hardship – swimming thousands of miles across oceans of hazards, only to have cold, stinging jellyfish for breakfast, lunch and dinner. As a species, leatherbacks have persevered through unimaginable times, including ice ages and major extinctions. In fact, they are often referred to as Earth’s last dinosaur. But it seems that leatherbacks may have finally met their match during this era dominated by the human species. I find it especially tragic to see such a charismatic animal that has survived for so long pushed to the brink of extinction in only a few decades. I have yet to be lucky enough to look into the eyes of a wild Pacific leatherback, something I long to do. I only hope that such an experience will remain a possibility.

References

Benson SR, Dutton PH, Hitipeuw C, Samber B, Bakarbessy J and Parker D (2007) Post-nesting migrations of leatherback turtles (Dermochelys coriacea) from Jamursba-Medi, Bird’s Head Peninsula, Indonesia. Chelonian Conservation and Biology 6: 150-154.

Brotz L, Cheung WWL, Kleisner K, Pakhomov E and Pauly D (2012) Increasing jellyfish populations: trends in large marine ecosystems. Hydrobiologia 690: 3-20.

Heaslip SG, Iverson SJ, Bowen WD and James MC (2012). Jellyfish support high energy intake of leatherback sea turtles (Dermochelys coriacea): video evidence from animal-borne cameras. PLoS ONE 7: e33259.

Mrosovsky N, Ryan GD and James MC (2009) Leatherback turtles: the menace of plastic. Marine Pollution Bulletin 58: 287-289.

Safina C (2006) Voyage of the Turtle. Holt, New York. 383 pp.

Spotila JR, Reina RD, Steyermark AC, Plotkin PT and Paladino FV (2000) Pacific leatherback turtles face extinction. Nature 405: 529-530.

Down at the World Ocean’s Summit

by Daniel Pauly

The British magazine The Economist hosted a huge “World Ocean Summit” in Singapore earlier this year, designed to find solutions to the ills that beset our oceans. And more precisely, to identify remedies that entrepreneurs could find ways to invest and profit from. It sounded like a reasonable goal, because we tend to live in democratic countries with market economies shaped by private enterprise, so I accepted their invitation. The head of the World Bank attended, as well as ministers from various countries, CEOs of big fishing companies, heads of international environmental NGOs, hedge fund managers, scientists…

It should have worked, but it didn’t really, despite the beautiful resort where the event took place and the flawless organization. I think it was because – mostly subtly, sometimes not so subtly – our very determined hosts, from the Editor-in-Chief to the lowliest of The Economist staffers, were pushing for “market solutions,” insisting that the remedies we identified had to make money for hedge fund managers and other investors.

It sounded all right at first – but how would this work if a health care system, for example, wasdesigned this way? Wouldn’t it leave too many people untreated, because no money can be made off them? Also, are fisheries not a gigantic example of a “market failure,” as economists call the mess we are in? (Although it is a small mess compared with that of our banking system.) But there was no space at the summit to discuss any of these things, and the complementary roles of governments and civil society. Everything that moves had to be turned into a commodity, and even some things that don’t move, like marine protected areas, which were identified as one of the places for profitable investments.

Thus my disappointment and perhaps that of Fisheries Centre Director Dr Rashid Sumaila too, who also attended. I did have the opportunity to address one of the summit’s working groups where I mentioned that the invitation of The Economist, besides being a compliment, also was a challenge, because I am often accused of spreading gloom and doom, in spite of being neither gloomy nor doomy.

The point is that a doctor – and I am one, if not of medicine – must correctly diagnose the disease at hand before being able to propose solutions leading back to health. The disease of industrial fisheries, I suggested, is “expansionitis” and it is caused largely by demand for fish in rich countries. Indeed, industrial fisheries have gone so far that we’re expanding into the world’s oceans at a rate of 1 million km2 and southward by 0.8° of latitude per year. Expansionitis is feeding essentially insatiable markets in Europe, North America and Northeast Asia, from finite fishing grounds in Africa, Latin America and Tropical Asia. Japan and the US import 60% to 70% of their food, the EU 70% to 80%. Industrial fishing is not about feeding the world’s poor.

Then, because we we re supposed to emphasize remedies, I listed those remedies for expansionitis about which there is
widespread agreement:
• Reduce and eventually abolish subsidies to fisheries – they are what feeds expansionitis;
• Rebuild fish stocks in developed countries, so that they need not grab so much of the developing countries’ fish, and export the lessons learned to the developing world;
• Allow developing countries to catch and process their own fish, and export a part of the value-added products to the developed world;
• Create arrangements providing exclusive access (to coastal resources in both developing and developed countries) to small-scale fisheries, which catch far more than industrial fisheries and could catch even more if not exposed to competition from industrial vessels;
• Reduce and eventually ban discards (Norway does it) and consume small fish directly, rather than turning them into fishmeal.
There is a huge reserve there.

But let’s face it: these remedies (all “market solutions,” incidentally) if implemented, would be the result of mostly public policy, which then would benefit the fishing industry in the long-term. In the short term, however, these remedies will be fought against tooth and nail by our friends from the private sector, that is those The Economist wants us not only to work with (which is a good thing), but to put in the driver’s seat. These are the reasons why I felt down at the Ocean Summit.