Euan Ritchie, Deakin University

It’s remarkable how little we know about Earth. How many species do we share this planet with? We don’t know, but estimates vary from millions to a trillion. In some respects we know more about the Moon, Mars and Venus than we do about the ocean’s depths and the vast sea floors.

But humans are inquisitive creatures, and we’re driven to explore. Chasing mythical or mysterious animals grabs media headlines and spurs debates, but it can also lead to remarkable discoveries.

The recent photographing of a live night parrot in Western Australia brought much joy. These enigmatic nocturnal birds have been only sporadically sighted over decades.

Another Australian species that inspires dedicated searchers is the Tasmanian tiger, or thylacine. A new hunt is under way, not in Tasmania but in Queensland’s vast wilderness region of Cape York.

Other plans are afoot to search for the long-beaked echidna in Western Australia’s Kimberley region.

In the case of the thylacine, old accounts from the region that sound very much like descriptions of the species raise the prospect that perhaps Cape York isn’t such a bad place to look after all.

But in reality, and tragically, it’s very unlikely that either of these species still survives in Australia. For some species there is scientific research that estimates just how improbable such an event would be; in the case of thylacines, one model suggests the odds are 1 in 1.6 trillion.

Chasing myths

The study and pursuit of “hidden” animals, thought to be extinct or fictitious, is often called cryptozoology. The word itself invites scorn – notorious examples include the search for Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster or Victoria’s legendary black panthers.

Granted, it’s probably apt to describe those searches as wild goose chases, but we must also acknowledge that genuine species – often quite sizeable ones – have been discovered.

Remarkable discoveries of animals thought to be fantasies or long extinct include giant squid, mountain gorillas, okapi, Komodo dragons and coelacanths.

In some cases, like the giant squid, these animals have been dismissed as legends. The reclusive oarfish, for example, are thought to be the inspiration for centuries of stories about sea serpents.

Technology to the rescue

Finding rare and cryptic species is self-evidently challenging, but rapid advances in technology open up amazing possibilities. Camera traps now provide us with regular selfies of once highly elusive snow leopards, and could equally be used with other difficult-to-find animals.

Environmental DNA is allowing us to detect species otherwise difficult to observe. Animal DNA found in the blood of leeches has uncovered rare and endangered mammals, meaning these and other much maligned blood-sucking parasites could be powerful biodiversity survey tools.

Acoustic recording devices can be left in areas for extended time periods, allowing us to eavesdrop on ecosystems and look out for sounds that might indicate otherwise hidden biological treasures. And coupling drones with thermal sensors and high resolution cameras means we can now take an eagle eye to remote and challenging environments.

The benefits of exploration and lessons learned

It’s easy to criticise the pursuit of the unlikely, but “miracles” can and do occur, sometimes on our doorstep. The discovery of the ancient Wollemi pine is a case in point. Even if we don’t find what we’re after, we may still benefit from what we learn along the way.

I’ve often wondered how many more species might be revealed to us if scientists invested more time in carefully listening to, recording and following up on the knowledge of Indigenous, farming, and other communities who have long and intimate associations with the land and sea.

Such an approach, combined with the deployment of new technologies, could create a boom of biological discovery.

Euan Ritchie, Senior Lecturer in Ecology, Centre for Integrative Ecology, School of Life & Environmental Sciences, Deakin University

Last summer, on the Isle of Arran, off the west coast of Scotland, we watched an excited young lad walking down to the water’s edge, fishing rod in hand. Sadly, his chances of catching anything were slim to remote.

Once plentiful stocks of cod, haddock and plaice have almost completely collapsed in the Firth of Clyde, the area of sea in which Arran sits, following a century of poor fisheries management.

Nowadays more than 99% of the commercial fisheries landings there are not for fish, but for shellfish such as prawns and scallops, which don’t take a bait.

Motivated by this dramatic change in their local marine environment, two Arran residents, Howard Wood and Don McNeish, formed the Community of Arran Seabed Trust back in 1995. They quickly seized on the idea of using marine reserves – areas of sea where fishing and other extractive uses are restricted – as a way to bring back the marine life they had previously enjoyed as scuba divers.

Reserves had been used to great success in New Zealand and the Philippines, where the benefits appeared to have spilled over to the areas open to fishing. However marine reserves were non-existent in the UK at the time.

Finally, after over a decade of campaigning and building community and scientific support they got their reserve in Lamlash Bay in October 2008. It was small (only 2.67 km2 in area) but significant, being the first and still the only fully protected marine reserve in Scotland.

We’ve looked at the Arran reserve in our research. Our findings, published this year in the journals Marine Biology and Marine Environmental Research indicate marine life is starting to flourish once again.

Complex seabed habitats formed by seaweeds and other plant-like creatures are recovering. These in turn act as a magnet for juvenile scallops, cod and other tasty species.

Adult scallops are benefiting too, growing in size and reproductive capacity. High levels of breeding within the reserve are likely to be seeding surrounding fishing grounds.

Marine protection is growing

Marine reserves, such as that on Arran, are the most protected form of Marine Protected Area (MPA). Due to their perceived benefits for both conservation and fisheries, the use of MPAs has grown spectacularly over the past two decades. They now cover 2.8% of the world’s oceans, and the 2010 Convention on Biological Diversity set an ambitious target for this to grow to at least 10% by 2020. Both the UK and Scottish governments are rolling out further MPAs.

There are strong arguments for the conservation value of MPAs. Clearly, if you protect ecosystems from activities which damage them, you expect benefits. Indeed, global analyses consistently find greater biodiversity and species size and abundance inside MPAs.

Certain habitats such as coral reefs and seagrass are highly sensitive to any kind of human disturbance, and protecting these areas should be a no-brainer given their ecological importance. Atlantic cod, for instance, rely on seagrass for shelter while they’re still growing.

However, the added restrictions these MPAs might put on fisheries has been met with strong resistance. In response to this lobbying pressure, it appears likely that UK governments will allow fishing to continue in the majority of the MPAs.

While low impact fisheries such as creeling and line fishing may be compatible with the conservation features in some MPAs, in many cases the most damaging types of fishing such as scallop dredging will be allowed to continue.

There are also no plans for any further highly protected MPAs, such as the one at Arran, to be established. Surely this is a wasted opportunity. Perhaps if the fishing industry could be convinced such MPAs would actually benefit fisheries, they would be met with less resistance.

Proving that highly protected MPAs benefit fisheries is difficult, but recent advances in genetics have conclusively demonstrated that disproportionately high amounts of young fish can be exported from marine reserves to neighbouring fishing grounds on tropical coral reefs.

Some scientists claim there is little evidence for them working in the cool temperate seas around the UK. But the Arran marine reserve story adds to the benefits that MPAs have provided to scallops around the Isle of Man and in Lyme Bay, and to lobsters around Lundy Island. Furthermore, recent modelling of the English Channel marine ecosystem concluded that highly protected MPAs were the best bet for both fisheries and conservation.

Crucially, the key to the success of the few MPAs in the UK to date has not just been getting the science right, but involving and getting support from the local community and fishing industries. Zoning arrangements divvying up the Clyde between fishermen and fish replenishment areas have just been proposed. This surely has to be the way forward.

This article was originally published on The Conversation.
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The Coelacanth (Latimeria menadoensis) was thought to be extinct for more than 60 million years and took the science world by storm in 1938 when it was re-discovered living in South Africa. This fish has retained its features for 400 million years. Parts of its body, such as its back and belly fins, have an additional structure that resemble amphibian feet.

The fish, which has been spotted in the waters of East Africa, including South Africa, Madagascar, Comoros and Tanzania, also lives in Indonesian waters.

But to the Minahasan people of Indonesia, it used to be considered just an unusual member of grouper fish family. They call it “oil grouper”.

The Indonesian Institute of Sciences (LIPI) with the Japanese Aquamarine Fukushima are planning to build a centre for Coelacanth research in Bitung, North Sulawesi.

We chose this location because fishermen often accidentally catch the Coelacanth in the Sulawesi waters. Now that they know how extraordinary this fish is, they have started to tell us when they accidentally catch one. We hope that by working with fishermen, when they do catch a Coelacanth, together we will be able to do more to keep it alive and return it to its habitat.

As researchers, we are curious to learn more about Coelacanth’s reproductive system, feeding habits, growth, genetics and migration, because all that information can reveal more about the evolution of living species.

From a fish market to museums

A University of California scientist Mark Erdman and his wife first sighted the fish in Indonesia in 1997. They found it dead at the the Bersehati market in Manado. They took a picture and tagged it as specimen number CCC 174.

A year later, on July 30th 1998, Lameh Sonathan, a fisherman from the Manadua Tua island accidentally caught another Coelacanth. That second specimen is tagged CCC 175.

The Bogor Zoology Museum holds the specimen at LIPI’s Cibinong Science Centre. By the end of 2014, Indonesia had seven Coelacanth specimens located in various parts of the country.

Where to find the Coelacanth in Indonesia

Recent research shows that the Coelacanth inhabits the waters in North Sulawesi and Papua.

In the last 15 years, research on Coelacanth in Indonesia has been focused on the area of North Sulawesi and its surroundings. In 1999, Max Planck Institute and LIPI worked together to record sightings of Coelacanth using a submersible called “Jago”, which translates as “cockerel” in Indonesian. The research recorded sightings of two Coelacanth in the Sulawesi Sea at 145 metres deep.

In 2006, LIPI’s research team and the Japanese Fukushima Aquamarine and Sam Ratulangi University recorded six Coelacanth sightings also in Sulawesi Sea 150 meters deep. A year later, the same team recorded nine Coelacanth sightings at Talise waters in North Sulawesi. In 2011, the research team sighted the fish in Biak waters in Papua.

Researchers believe it is probable that the fish lives in other areas of east Indonesia. The topography and the oceanographic conditions there are similar to Papua and North Sulawesi: rocky, steep and full of caves. Coelacanth live in deep waters of at least 150 metres, with temperature between 14 and 18 degrees Celsius. Their habitat are caves of rock structures in the bottom of the ocean.

There are still questions about the relationship between the Coelacanth in the East Africa coast and Indonesia. Researchers are trying to find answers through DNA testing.

By looking at its form, shape and structure, we can study how evolution happens, and how long the process of morphology changes occur. One of the ways to study the morphology is by examining x-ray photographs of the Coelacanth.

The study of the Coelacanth takes a long time, because of the very few specimens available. Intensive research is needed to find where significant numbers of Coelacanth live to ensure effective research and aid conservation.

This article was originally published on The Conversation.
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Marine protected areas – essentially nature preserves in the ocean – are meant to provide a safe harbor for sharks, rays and other ocean species being lost because of intense and often unregulated fishing.

In a study published in Conservation Biology last week, we and other collaborators set out to quantify how populations of sharks and rays have changed over time at Cocos Island, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the world’s oldest marine protected areas.

Perched 550 kilometers (340 miles) off the Pacific coast of Costa Rica, Cocos is an isolated paradise. Jacques Cousteau called it the most beautiful island in the world, and its lush rain forests were the inspiration for Michael Crichton’s novel Jurassic Park.

Underwater, Cocos teems with life. It is renowned amongst scuba divers as the best place in the world to swim with large schools of hammerhead sharks. Giant manta rays, sea turtles, yellowfin tunas, and whales sharks are also regularly seen.

And yet, there is trouble in paradise. We analyzed data on fish sightings reported after divemasters’ trips collected over the past two decades and found that all four of the most common shark and ray species at Cocos have declined significantly.

Ecosystem changes

Among the declines, we found the number of scalloped hammerhead sharks has dropped by almost half during that time. This tragedy is not altogether unexpected because hammerhead fins are highly prized in the international shark fin trade. These iconic sharks roam widely along coastlines in the eastern tropical Pacific Ocean, migrating between Cocos, Malpelo Island, and the Galapagos. Each of these islands is designated as a marine protected area, but hammerheads are still caught both within and outside of these areas.

More surprising, was the precipitous drop in Cocos’s other common shark and ray species, which inhabit the protected area year round. The whitetip reef shark is still seen on most dives at Cocos, but the number of this small reef-restricted species has plummeted by three-quarters. Ditto for the marble ray, a large stingray. Numbers of eagle rays, a large majestic pelagic species, have dropped by a third. All three of these species are thought to be reef-restricted and thus should be protected within the waters surrounding Cocos. Not so.

The declines in the number of sharks and rays restricted to the waters surrounding Cocos are a clear indication that the protected area isn’t working.

We also found that there have been increases in a few species. Not a single tiger shark was seen by divers at Cocos in our data until 2000. These large distinctive sharks are now seen on over 10% of dives. The abrupt increase suggests that some tiger sharks have simply set up shop at Cocos. Observations of the blacktip shark and the Galapagos shark also increased in frequency, so the Cocos marine protected area may be working for these two smaller reef-restricted shark species.

One can point to the increases in tiger, blacktip, and Galapagos sharks as signs the protected area is working. This is probably partially correct. But it also reflects a larger shift in which species inhabit the waters around Cocos Island.

In other words, increases in several species may be a sign of larger problems caused by changes in the ecosystem around Cocos Island. Higher numbers of some species, in particular large predatory species such as the tiger shark, may alter the relationships between species already present.

Paper park?

On land, parks with inadequate enforcement against hunting are often referred to as “paper parks” – existing merely as boundaries drawn on paper but with little on the ground protection. This conveys a false sense of conservation.

Perhaps understandably, illegal fishing is rampant within the Cocos Island marine protected area: the island is remote, enforcement has been limited, and shark fins are a hot commodity. Cocos is a 36 hour boat ride away from the mainland. This remoteness is part of what makes Cocos such a draw for divers from around the world, but it also makes the island a sitting duck for illicit fishing activities.

Funding for monitoring and enforcement has been minimal. MarViva, a regional environmental NGO, has patrolled the island along with the Costa Rican Coast Guard since 2003 and caught illegal fishing in the process. Costa Rican laws make it tough to prove [illegal fishing] has occurred, however, and most cases to date have been dismissed in court. As a result, the illegal fishing continues.

A labour of love

Many divers, however, recognize Cocos for the treasure that it is.

Over the past 21 years, a group of dedicated divemasters working at Undersea Hunter, a live-aboard dive company specializing in trips to Cocos Island, has meticulously recorded every shark and ray they saw while diving at the island.

Our study synthesized their observations of over 1.4 million sharks and rays.

Without these data, it would be impossible to know how underwater life at Cocos is changing. Like many parts of the developing world, Costa Rican waters are without dedicated marine research surveys or comprehensive fisheries data. The foresight of Undersea Hunter’s owner Avi Klapfer to begin their monitoring program, and the dedication of the divemasters to continue it over two decades, is a testament to their love of Cocos.

In this remote area, with no official monitoring, the Undersea Hunter data provide a window to see how sharks and rays have changed over two decades in this isolated and globally unique marine reserve.

Watching sharks and rays at Cocos, it is hard to believe that there used to be even more of these beautiful animals. The reef still appears to be covered with them despite the declines recorded by the divemasters over the years.

So what can be done?

More effort needs to be directed towards enforcement and monitoring at Cocos. Recent efforts by environmental non-governmental organizations (eNGOs), including MarViva, Forever Costa Rica, and Conservation International are encouraging. The groups are now working together, with assistance from Oceans 5, to install a radar on the island to help control illegal fishing. The Costa Rican government also needs to get serious about prosecuting offenders.

If Costa Rica is to maintain its status as a leader for progressive environmental policies, it needs to double down on efforts to protect its most iconic species and the national treasure that is Cocos Island.

To read more on the marine protection areas, see:

• Pacific Remote Islands protection not just a drop in the ocean
• World’s largest survey of marine parks shows conservation can be greatly improved

This article was originally published on The Conversation.
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The earth’s climate is changing and extreme weather events are on the rise. Hurricanes are wreaking havoc with more ferocity, summers are getting warmer and winters colder. But what about our oceans? They, too, are warming.

With the seas’ temperature rise has come an increased frequency of bloom events. These are rapid increases in the abundance of (normally) planktonic species, often associated with seasonal events or climatic phenomena. The duration of a bloom event depends on a number of environmental conditions, including temperature, light and nutrient availability. A well known example is the green algae that struck Qingdao, China during the 2008 Olympic sailing events.

With oceanic temperatures steadily creeping upwards, the general consensus is that such bloom events are on the rise in many areas. Although bloom events can cause significant problems in fisheries, some blooms can prove useful to fishers.

A recent study in the upper Gulf of California, also known as the Sea of Cortez, demonstrates just this relationship between fishers and blooms. Researchers from the Gulf of California Marine Program describe how in the summer of 2012, local fishermen were host to a huge bloom of non-native Cannonball Jellyfish (Stomolophus meleagris). Thanks to the fast-growing Chinese dried-jelly market, the bloom made the local fishermen US$3.5 million in just 40 days.

Above-average surface temperatures and algal blooms promoted the growth of the jellies in the Guaymas basin, which is midway up the Gulf of California. These advantageous feeding conditions meant that what could have been a normal amount of jellyfish turned into a floating swarm. The jellies traveled north with the prevailing currents for 30 days until reaching the Santa Clara basin area of the Gulf, 750km north of Guaymas, where the bloom was fished.

The jelly bloom brought added revenue and employment to the upper gulf, but the story is not as rosy as it first seems. With such a large pulse to the local economy, and the assumption that the bloom would be a regular annual fixture, fishermen began investing in equipment and training courses (promoted by local fisheries managers) to prepare for the coming year’s anticipated harvest. Alas, in 2013, the jellyfish never appeared and the local fishers’ investment was lost.

With bloom events on the rise and many fish stocks facing unsustainable exploitation pressures, it seems clear that such jelly-fishery events will become more common in our seas and jellies more abundant in fish markets, albeit those in Asia. It is, however, important that careful investment is made in fickle fisheries stocks, like the jellies, that appear sporadically with low predictability. Similar stories of the rise and fall of cannonball jellyfish echo along the Southeast US continental shelf, but over longer and unpredictable time frames, highlighting the difficulty in relying on such blooms even over the longer term.

If fishermen mis-invest and lose confidence in a fishery and local management, it will have negative consequences in the long term. The divide between rules – such as catch limits, closed seasons and protected areas – and compliance will likely widen as overall profits are reduced and the hunt for declining fishes increase.

In order to ensure full benefit is gained from new fishery opportunities without post-fishery “bust” scenarios, it is imperative that scientists, managers and fishers work together to make both economically and ecologically sound decisions based on long-term outlooks. Ways to get it right will include avoiding flooding markets and maintaining good market prices for catch, fishing within biological limits of species to prevent stock collapses and aid future stock booms, and using robust science, based on long-term data to make good predictions on future catches.

This article was originally published on The Conversation.
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