When oceanographer Tessa Hill was asked to join the Climate Crisis Advisory Group (CCAG) as an advisor, she was surprised by the reason. The global group, formed in 2021 with the vision of acting as a bridge between the latest climate science and policymakers, was interested in Hill’s background expertise in methane, a potent greenhouse gas.
Invisible in the clear afternoon sky, the moon tugged the tidal channel’s brackish waters towards the Pacific Ocean. It drew them out slowly, languidly, the water’s surface eddying and rippling in the sunlight.
White abalone shells are magnificent structures. Translucent during the marine snail’s juvenile days, the extremely durable shell increases in opacity as the organism ages, gaining its paint-splatter-esque red, brown and white coloring from the algae it eats.
People often say things like Phoenix has always been dry; Seattle has always been wet; and San Francisco has always been foggy. But “always” is a strong word.
Corals are a recent addition to this body of prophecy. Scientists now know that deep-sea corals off the coast of California live for hundreds of years—and they record a ring for every year of their growth, just like a redwood. What their growth rings tell us about past ocean conditions can also illuminate our planet's future.
“Maybe I’ve become better at suppressing my feelings…But my dominant strategy is to intellectualize it and say, ‘What a crazy species we are.’” —Ken Caldeira
Deep-sea corals have some things in common with trees. As their branches grow, corals document the minute details of ocean chemistry in ring patterns like those in tree trunks. And like certain trees, some coral species can live for hundreds or even thousands of years, preserving their recording of past conditions. Dr. Nancy Foster Scholar Carina Fish uncovers the records kept by deep-sea corals in Cordell Bank National Marine Sanctuary for her Ph.D. at University of California, Davis.
