Where Now Grizzly Bear?

Dust Plumes, Algal Blooms, and Vitamin Glooms

I’ve been around marine science and marine scientists for more than three decades now (ahem), but I am still constantly surprised by what I learn—almost daily it seems—working at the magazine. This week was a particularly fascinating one. There’s a story on how iron-rich dust from Argentina—almost 20,000 kilometers away—seeds the Antarctic’s Southern Ocean, and another on the expanding movements of grizzly bears, which are showing up in unexpected places, including on Vancouver Island where I live. It says something about a species when it can rebound from near annihilation in almost half of its historical range. Stories of resilience can provide balm, so even though the header image is a bit of a bummer, I encourage you to read “All Quiet Under the Algal Bloom” and take a few seconds to listen to the sounds of Sarasota Bay, Florida, before, during, and, most importantly, after an algal bloom.

The story that surprised me most this week, though, was the one brought to us months ago by Alastair Bland, a frequent contributor. He’d approached us enthusiastically for a story with, he wrote, “great environmental implications, worldwide significance, and possibly a strong link to global warming.” And the story? That thiamine deficiencies in the ocean could be having catastrophic consequences in marine and terrestrial ecosystems. Writing about vitamins could have been a hard sell, but we were immediately intrigued. Why had we not heard of this, especially when, as Bland notes, a 2018 “horizon scan” of more than 100 emerging issues that affect the planet’s wildlife and natural systems focused in on 15 culprits, including thiamine deficiency. Bland worked diligently on the story for months, reading scientific papers and interviewing experts in North America and Europe. The result is a thorough and thoughtful look at the reverberations that can result when an ecosystem is deprived of nutrients.

Adrienne Mason
Managing editor

This Week’s Stories

Where Now Grizzly Bear?

After centuries of persecution, brown bears are showing up in some unexpected places.

by Brian Payton • 3,000 words / 15 mins

Searching for the Dust That Cooled the Planet

A new study uncovers the origins of iron-rich dust that contributed to the last ice age’s coldest temperatures.

by Helen Santoro • 700 words / 3 mins

All Quiet Under the Algal Bloom

A network of listening stations in Sarasota Bay, Florida, is letting scientists hear how red tides affect marine life.

by Lina Tran • 550 words / 2 mins

The Ocean’s Mysterious Vitamin Deficiency

A puzzling lack of thiamine is disrupting some marine ecosystems.

by Alastair Bland • 2,700 words / 14 mins

Coastal Job: Sand Artist

How this professional sand artist built a career on the beach.

as told to Kamakshi Ayyar • 650 words / 3 mins

What We’re Reading

The Hooghly estuary, where the Ganges River meets the Bay of Bengal in India, has come to be known as the estuary of “vanishing islands.” Three islands have disappeared in the last few decades, and sea level rise is only part of the picture. (Yale 360)

Using centuries-old charts and digital satellite images, researchers at the University of Victoria are mapping kelp forests along the British Columbia coast. (National Observer)

A new study finds global ice loss is now in line with the worst-case scenarios of the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, with ice sheets in Greenland and Antarctica melting the fastest. (The Guardian)

Seaweed farming has attracted interest and investment along the British Columbia coast, with pushes to commercialize the plant beyond specialty food stores and explore its uses as cattle feed and bioplastic. One of the biggest threats to the potential expansion? Not being able to grow it fast enough. (National Observer)

On the edge of eastern Iceland, a widow operates a weather station, farm, and lighthouse with her daughter in an area so remote that, when storms hit, it’s cut off from outside access for days. “If I ever moved away, my mother would definitely stay here on her own,” Heida, the daughter, said. “Here, she feels free.” (New York Times)

At least 14 North Atlantic right whale calves were spotted in the waters from North Carolina to Florida this winter in what wildlife officials call an encouraging sign. The whales have been experiencing an unusual mortality event since 2017 and are listed as critically endangered. (The Guardian)

Hungry for more bear content? Read “In the Kingdom of the Bears,” by editor in chief Jude Isabella. The expansive 2018 story explores the creation of British Columbia’s Great Bear Rainforest, the bears that reside in the verdant forest, and the First Nations that revere and protect the animals as neighbors.

During these gray and chilly January days, when trees are bare and spring seems far away even here on the snowless coast of Victoria, British Columbia, any bright spot can be cheering. Enter the imaginatively named witch’s butter (Tremella mesenterica) and its look-alike, orange jelly (Dacrymyces chrysospermus). Walk among the trees in this region and you may spot globs of these two lobed fungi providing sunny splashes of yellow-orange on the decaying wood of fallen trees, branches, and stumps. They can be tricky to tell apart, but their host wood gives a clue: witch’s butter usually parasitizes a fungal intermediary on deciduous trees, like this alder, whereas orange jelly prefers latching directly onto conifers. Both are edible—but their tasty names belie their flavor.

Witch’s butter (left) by Josh Silberg; orange jelly (right) by Kelly Fretwell

Behind the Story

Photographer and videographer Grant Callegari contributed footage to this week’s feature, “Where Now Grizzly Bear?” He writes about his experience filming a grizzly bear on Vancouver Island, British Columbia.

As a Vancouver Islander, I’m accustomed to living alongside black bears. I spend a lot of time in the forest, and I’m never really that concerned about the possibility of encountering one. Grizzly bears, on the other hand, are not animals we’re familiar living beside on the island. So when I recently went for a walk along the estuary near my home, I was surprised to come face to face with a large male grizzly. I’ve spent lots of time in grizzly country on British Columbia’s central coast. But there I’m usually psychologically prepared, maintaining a heightened sense of awareness knowing that I’m sharing the space with Ol’ Grizz.

On this particular encounter, I was fortunate enough to have my camera and telephoto lens with me and was able to capture some footage of the bear nonchalantly chowing down on fresh green sedge. The bear was aware of my presence; if he had wanted to put me in my place, I’m sure he could have closed the distance between us in a split second. The most dangerous bear is a surprised bear, but his relaxed body language showed me that he was not threatened by my presence.

It was fantastic to spend a couple of minutes watching this big powerful animal ambling around, doing his thing. The arrival of grizzly bears on the island has certainly got local opinion divided. Some are thrilled to have such a charismatic creature on their doorstep, while others don’t quite share the same enthusiasm—they see grizzlies as a threat and nuisance. Personally, I think it’s wonderful to have grizzly bears expanding their range. If we want to live on a planet that is rich, diverse, and healthy, then we will surely need to allow space for them and to be more tolerant learning to live alongside these magnificent animals.

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