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P-22 lived an epic and tragic life in Griffith Park. Would a new mountain lion fare any better?

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Tuesday, June 11, 2024

A sleek mountain lion filmed from behind the wheel of a Tesla on the edge of Griffith Park last month triggered a collective double take in Los Angeles.Not long ago, the park’s long-reigning king — the cougar known as P-22 — stalked the same hills.While P-22’s stint in Hollywood brought him fame and devotion — landing him on T-shirts and culminating in a sold-out memorial — it also came with deadly trappings inherent to his urban-adjacent environment. Rat poison and car collisions battered him from the inside out. He was captured and euthanized in late 2022, deemed too sick to return to the wild because of injuries and infection.A mountain lion living in Griffith Park today would likely suffer a similar fate. Aggressive and impactful reporting on climate change, the environment, health and science. “Has anything changed, in some respects, in Griffith Park? No,” said Beth Pratt of the National Wildlife Federation, a vocal booster for Southern California mountain lions, P-22 in particular. “As much as people are really excited about this cat, a lot, including myself, are worried about him.”Cars still whiz along freeways that isolate small populations of lions and perilously limit genetic diversity. Some types of rat poison, which travels up the food chain to an apex predator like a puma, can still be bought at the hardware store.But P-22‘s high-profile plight highlighted the challenges and helped inspire efforts to make the region a safer place to be a mountain lion — even if change hasn’t caught up to the heartbreaking reality.What’s billed as the largest wildlife crossing in the world — with a staggering price tag to match — is taking shape over a stretch of the 101 Freeway in Agoura Hills. A pair of bills that recently cleared the California Assembly would expand a ban on certain rodenticides and require cities to consider wildlife connectivity in planning documents.P-22 “did spur us to action,” Pratt said. The new mountain lion was spotted May 14 near Barham Boulevard. (Vladmir Polumiskov) Very little is known about the lion spotted in mid-May in a parking lot east of Barham Boulevard on the edge of roughly 4,200-acre Griffith Park.Vladimir Polumiskov captured video of the majestic creature on his phone after he and his wife and young son returned to their Hollywood Hills apartment after a weeknight dinner out. Headlights from Polumiskov’s car illuminate the cat’s sand-colored fur as he perches on a tree.Researchers who have seen the video believe it’s a young-leaning male lion. He’s not wearing a collar and therefore not part of the National Park Service’s 22-year study of mountain lions in and around the Santa Monica Mountains, of which Griffith Park marks the easternmost end. Scientists involved with the study are trying to find him — scouting primarily via remote cameras — so they can add him, said Seth Riley, a wildlife ecologist with NPS. If he’s captured and collared, scientists will be able to track his movements and analyze his DNA to see if he’s related to other lions in their database.Typically, young male mountain lions disperse, often traveling long distances to search for mates and a suitable home to call their own. That’s probably what P-22 was after — though he ended up in an abnormally small area for his species, and one believed to be lacking in lady lions. Experts didn’t expect him to stay long, but he hunkered down for 10 years.Griffith Park, surrounded on all sides by perilous freeways and roads, isn’t an easy place for a lion to get to — or leave. Pratt said the recently sighted lion probably hails from the Santa Monica Mountains and took the same harrowing trek as P-22, who presumably traversed the 405 and 101 freeways. But it remains speculation in the absence of a genetic workup.There’s no telling whether he’ll stick around.There are some upsides to the park. Namely, plenty of deer and no other adult male mountain lions, which chase and sometimes even fight young lions to the death.“He might not be in Griffith Park anymore,” said Pratt, California regional executive director for the NWF. “Or he could be settling in and claiming this for his new home.” A wildlife crossing over the 101 Freeway in Agoura Hills, pictured in an artist’s rendering, is expected to open in 2026. (RCD of the Santa Monica Mountains / Associated Press) Last month, Pratt scrawled “For P-22” onto the final girder placed onto the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing, a construction milestone that completed the bridge’s foundation. Numerous others honored P-22 in their own signatures, she said.Those who want to see Southland lions succeed point to the $92-million crossing as holding perhaps the biggest promise. If the crossing had been built when P-22 was looking to settle down, he might have been able to cross it and go north to “mountain lion paradise,” Los Padres National Forest, Pratt surmised.The 101 Freeway functions as an “impenetrable wall,” Pratt said. Lions to the south can’t get out and lions to the north can’t get in, forcing isolation and inbreeding. Birth defects, including kinked tails and deformed testicles, have already shown up in the small population sequestered in the Santa Monica Mountains. Next is likely sterility, Pratt said. A recent study found they could face extirpation within 50 years without intervention. Based on what researchers have learned, “this crossing will really be helpful for animals to leave the Santa Monicas, but also it’s kind of even more important, from a genetic point of view, that animals are able to come into the Santa Monicas,” said Riley, who is the branch chief for wildlife at the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area and an adjunct professor at UCLA.“Because we’ve documented low genetic diversity in the Santa Monicas, and we’ve documented a bunch of cases of close inbreeding, where fathers are mating with daughters and close relatives are breeding.” The crossing is slated to open in 2026. And there’s a lot of work to be done before that to get it ready for animals on the move. Pratt said they’re currently working on the structure looming over a 10-lane stretch of freeway. Soon they’ll lay down two big slabs of concrete, and by the end of the year soil and plants will be added. Next spring, they expect to begin working on the portion over Agoura Road. Beth Pratt, pictured in 2021, said she and others are worried for the mountain lion recently spotted at the edge of Griffith Park. It’s not the most hospitable place for a big cat. (Gary Kazanjian / For The Times) Meanwhile, two bills that advanced out of the state Assembly last month aim to tackle mountain lions’ top challenges: cars, connectivity and rat poison. The bills, both introduced by Assemblymember Laura Friedman (D-Glendale), need to pass the Senate by Aug. 31 to land on the governor’s desk for final approval. Vehicle strikes are the top killers of mountain lions studied by the National Park Service. Rodenticides are tied for second with fights with other animals. P-22 was struck by a car toward the end of his life a few blocks south of Griffith Park and a subsequent exam revealed an old injury that may have been caused by another collision. He was also exposed to rat poison and developed mange. Assembly Bill 1889, called the Room to Roam Act, would require local governments to consider and implement measures to protect wildlife connectivity as part of their general plan. That could entail installing wildlife-friendly fencing or lighting or identifying and protecting a corridor known to be used by animals. (It does not require crossings to be built or land to be set aside.)The bill directs cities and counties to plan development in ways that don’t unnecessarily impact the movement of wildlife, said J.P. Rose, urban wildlands policy director at the Center for Biological Diversity, which sponsored the bill. Connectivity isn’t often considered until a specific development reaches the proposal stage, Rose said, which “misses a key opportunity to take a regional look at the issue of wildlife connectivity. And because it is a regional issue, the best place to look at it is in these kind of longer-term, broader plans.”The bill arrives about two years after the passage of a law that directed the California Department of Transportation to explore wildlife connectivity when it builds or expands roadways. The Room to Roam bill addresses the “other side of the coin,” Rose said. An Agoura Hills couple, whose home is near the in-progress wildlife crossing, captured a mountain lion on video outside their home in May. (Peggy McClintick and Sally Tuchman) Though previous laws have limited the use of certain rat poisons, others remain widely available. Assembly Bill 2552 would place restrictions on additional types, including removing them for over-the-counter purchase and limiting their use in wildlife areas.“This bill is an attempt to get some of those off the shelves so that people aren’t going to Home Depot and buying these super toxic rodenticides and unknowingly poisoning wildlife,” said Rose of the bill, also sponsored by the center.The poisons being targeted — chlorophacinone and warfarin — are known as first-generation anticoagulant rodenticides. They stop a rat’s blood from coagulating and stay in the animal’s system after it dies. When an unsuspecting mountain lion or owl gobbles a dead or sick rat — or another animal that ate a tainted rat — the toxic substance is passed on.Rose called the impacts “really heartbreaking.” He said poisoned predators don’t always die right away; sometimes they “slowly bleed to death from the inside.” The poisons can cause skin diseases and lead to organ failure and a depressed immune system, which might prevent animals from being able to find food or shelter in their sickened state — another pathway to death, he said.Riley, of the National Park Service, said researchers are “still continuing to get exposure in basically every animal we test.”His team believes it’s likely that the mountain lions they study are ingesting the poison when they eat carnivores — particularly coyotes, their second-most commonly consumed prey after deer. Often cougars go straight for their nutrient-rich organs, including the liver, where the compounds are stored. There’s general consensus that these efforts are part of a long game. No single crossing or law will be enough to make Southern California a safe place for mountain lions (or other wildlife). The goal is to continue building out connectivity while detoxifying the landscape — and make environmental and development decisions with the cats in mind going forward.Big cat supporters are already scheming about where to place future crossings.National Park Service researchers are conducting a connectivity study along a portion of the 101 Freeway at the western end of the Santa Monica Mountains known as the Conejo Grade. It’s an area with undeveloped land on both sides, Riley said. Recently, there were renewed calls for crossings north of San Diego County, where the 15 Freeway strands another population of genetically isolated lions. There have also been informal talks about where crossings could be installed in or near Griffith Park, according to Pratt. The Cahuenga Pass, where P-22 is believed to have crossed, is on their radar.If all goes well, P-22 might be the last of his kind.“If, in the long run, all of these areas were better connected, then animals, hopefully, in the future, won’t end up stuck in Griffith Park like P-22,” Riley said. Is the new mountain lion in Griffith Park? And for how long? (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times )

A mountain lion spotted at the edge of Griffith Park last month recalled the park's former feline king, P-22. If the new cougar stays, he'll face the same challenges as his predecessor.

A sleek mountain lion filmed from behind the wheel of a Tesla on the edge of Griffith Park last month triggered a collective double take in Los Angeles.

Not long ago, the park’s long-reigning king — the cougar known as P-22 — stalked the same hills.

While P-22’s stint in Hollywood brought him fame and devotion — landing him on T-shirts and culminating in a sold-out memorial — it also came with deadly trappings inherent to his urban-adjacent environment. Rat poison and car collisions battered him from the inside out. He was captured and euthanized in late 2022, deemed too sick to return to the wild because of injuries and infection.

A mountain lion living in Griffith Park today would likely suffer a similar fate.

Aggressive and impactful reporting on climate change, the environment, health and science.

“Has anything changed, in some respects, in Griffith Park? No,” said Beth Pratt of the National Wildlife Federation, a vocal booster for Southern California mountain lions, P-22 in particular. “As much as people are really excited about this cat, a lot, including myself, are worried about him.”

Cars still whiz along freeways that isolate small populations of lions and perilously limit genetic diversity. Some types of rat poison, which travels up the food chain to an apex predator like a puma, can still be bought at the hardware store.

But P-22‘s high-profile plight highlighted the challenges and helped inspire efforts to make the region a safer place to be a mountain lion — even if change hasn’t caught up to the heartbreaking reality.

What’s billed as the largest wildlife crossing in the world — with a staggering price tag to match — is taking shape over a stretch of the 101 Freeway in Agoura Hills. A pair of bills that recently cleared the California Assembly would expand a ban on certain rodenticides and require cities to consider wildlife connectivity in planning documents.

P-22 “did spur us to action,” Pratt said.


Video still of a mountain lion on the edge of  Griffith Park

The new mountain lion was spotted May 14 near Barham Boulevard.

(Vladmir Polumiskov)

Very little is known about the lion spotted in mid-May in a parking lot east of Barham Boulevard on the edge of roughly 4,200-acre Griffith Park.

Vladimir Polumiskov captured video of the majestic creature on his phone after he and his wife and young son returned to their Hollywood Hills apartment after a weeknight dinner out. Headlights from Polumiskov’s car illuminate the cat’s sand-colored fur as he perches on a tree.

Researchers who have seen the video believe it’s a young-leaning male lion. He’s not wearing a collar and therefore not part of the National Park Service’s 22-year study of mountain lions in and around the Santa Monica Mountains, of which Griffith Park marks the easternmost end.

Scientists involved with the study are trying to find him — scouting primarily via remote cameras — so they can add him, said Seth Riley, a wildlife ecologist with NPS. If he’s captured and collared, scientists will be able to track his movements and analyze his DNA to see if he’s related to other lions in their database.

Typically, young male mountain lions disperse, often traveling long distances to search for mates and a suitable home to call their own. That’s probably what P-22 was after — though he ended up in an abnormally small area for his species, and one believed to be lacking in lady lions. Experts didn’t expect him to stay long, but he hunkered down for 10 years.

Griffith Park, surrounded on all sides by perilous freeways and roads, isn’t an easy place for a lion to get to — or leave.

Pratt said the recently sighted lion probably hails from the Santa Monica Mountains and took the same harrowing trek as P-22, who presumably traversed the 405 and 101 freeways. But it remains speculation in the absence of a genetic workup.

There’s no telling whether he’ll stick around.

There are some upsides to the park. Namely, plenty of deer and no other adult male mountain lions, which chase and sometimes even fight young lions to the death.

“He might not be in Griffith Park anymore,” said Pratt, California regional executive director for the NWF. “Or he could be settling in and claiming this for his new home.”


Artist rendering shows planned wildlife crossing over the 101 Freeway in Agoura Hills

A wildlife crossing over the 101 Freeway in Agoura Hills, pictured in an artist’s rendering, is expected to open in 2026.

(RCD of the Santa Monica Mountains / Associated Press)

Last month, Pratt scrawled “For P-22” onto the final girder placed onto the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing, a construction milestone that completed the bridge’s foundation. Numerous others honored P-22 in their own signatures, she said.

Those who want to see Southland lions succeed point to the $92-million crossing as holding perhaps the biggest promise. If the crossing had been built when P-22 was looking to settle down, he might have been able to cross it and go north to “mountain lion paradise,” Los Padres National Forest, Pratt surmised.

The 101 Freeway functions as an “impenetrable wall,” Pratt said. Lions to the south can’t get out and lions to the north can’t get in, forcing isolation and inbreeding. Birth defects, including kinked tails and deformed testicles, have already shown up in the small population sequestered in the Santa Monica Mountains. Next is likely sterility, Pratt said. A recent study found they could face extirpation within 50 years without intervention.

Based on what researchers have learned, “this crossing will really be helpful for animals to leave the Santa Monicas, but also it’s kind of even more important, from a genetic point of view, that animals are able to come into the Santa Monicas,” said Riley, who is the branch chief for wildlife at the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area and an adjunct professor at UCLA.

“Because we’ve documented low genetic diversity in the Santa Monicas, and we’ve documented a bunch of cases of close inbreeding, where fathers are mating with daughters and close relatives are breeding.”

The crossing is slated to open in 2026. And there’s a lot of work to be done before that to get it ready for animals on the move.

Pratt said they’re currently working on the structure looming over a 10-lane stretch of freeway. Soon they’ll lay down two big slabs of concrete, and by the end of the year soil and plants will be added. Next spring, they expect to begin working on the portion over Agoura Road.

Beth Pratt, wearing a black T-shirt with a drawing of a mountain lion and the words "P-22 is my homeboy."

Beth Pratt, pictured in 2021, said she and others are worried for the mountain lion recently spotted at the edge of Griffith Park. It’s not the most hospitable place for a big cat.

(Gary Kazanjian / For The Times)

Meanwhile, two bills that advanced out of the state Assembly last month aim to tackle mountain lions’ top challenges: cars, connectivity and rat poison. The bills, both introduced by Assemblymember Laura Friedman (D-Glendale), need to pass the Senate by Aug. 31 to land on the governor’s desk for final approval.

Vehicle strikes are the top killers of mountain lions studied by the National Park Service. Rodenticides are tied for second with fights with other animals.

P-22 was struck by a car toward the end of his life a few blocks south of Griffith Park and a subsequent exam revealed an old injury that may have been caused by another collision. He was also exposed to rat poison and developed mange.

Assembly Bill 1889, called the Room to Roam Act, would require local governments to consider and implement measures to protect wildlife connectivity as part of their general plan.

That could entail installing wildlife-friendly fencing or lighting or identifying and protecting a corridor known to be used by animals. (It does not require crossings to be built or land to be set aside.)

The bill directs cities and counties to plan development in ways that don’t unnecessarily impact the movement of wildlife, said J.P. Rose, urban wildlands policy director at the Center for Biological Diversity, which sponsored the bill.

Connectivity isn’t often considered until a specific development reaches the proposal stage, Rose said, which “misses a key opportunity to take a regional look at the issue of wildlife connectivity. And because it is a regional issue, the best place to look at it is in these kind of longer-term, broader plans.”

The bill arrives about two years after the passage of a law that directed the California Department of Transportation to explore wildlife connectivity when it builds or expands roadways. The Room to Roam bill addresses the “other side of the coin,” Rose said.

A mountain lion walks along a block wall in Agoura Hills

An Agoura Hills couple, whose home is near the in-progress wildlife crossing, captured a mountain lion on video outside their home in May.

(Peggy McClintick and Sally Tuchman)

Though previous laws have limited the use of certain rat poisons, others remain widely available. Assembly Bill 2552 would place restrictions on additional types, including removing them for over-the-counter purchase and limiting their use in wildlife areas.

“This bill is an attempt to get some of those off the shelves so that people aren’t going to Home Depot and buying these super toxic rodenticides and unknowingly poisoning wildlife,” said Rose of the bill, also sponsored by the center.

The poisons being targeted — chlorophacinone and warfarin — are known as first-generation anticoagulant rodenticides. They stop a rat’s blood from coagulating and stay in the animal’s system after it dies. When an unsuspecting mountain lion or owl gobbles a dead or sick rat — or another animal that ate a tainted rat — the toxic substance is passed on.

Rose called the impacts “really heartbreaking.” He said poisoned predators don’t always die right away; sometimes they “slowly bleed to death from the inside.” The poisons can cause skin diseases and lead to organ failure and a depressed immune system, which might prevent animals from being able to find food or shelter in their sickened state — another pathway to death, he said.

Riley, of the National Park Service, said researchers are “still continuing to get exposure in basically every animal we test.”

His team believes it’s likely that the mountain lions they study are ingesting the poison when they eat carnivores — particularly coyotes, their second-most commonly consumed prey after deer. Often cougars go straight for their nutrient-rich organs, including the liver, where the compounds are stored.


There’s general consensus that these efforts are part of a long game. No single crossing or law will be enough to make Southern California a safe place for mountain lions (or other wildlife). The goal is to continue building out connectivity while detoxifying the landscape — and make environmental and development decisions with the cats in mind going forward.

Big cat supporters are already scheming about where to place future crossings.

National Park Service researchers are conducting a connectivity study along a portion of the 101 Freeway at the western end of the Santa Monica Mountains known as the Conejo Grade. It’s an area with undeveloped land on both sides, Riley said. Recently, there were renewed calls for crossings north of San Diego County, where the 15 Freeway strands another population of genetically isolated lions. There have also been informal talks about where crossings could be installed in or near Griffith Park, according to Pratt. The Cahuenga Pass, where P-22 is believed to have crossed, is on their radar.

If all goes well, P-22 might be the last of his kind.

“If, in the long run, all of these areas were better connected, then animals, hopefully, in the future, won’t end up stuck in Griffith Park like P-22,” Riley said.

The rolling hills of Griffith Park under cloudy skies, with the downtown Los Angeles skyline in the distance.

Is the new mountain lion in Griffith Park? And for how long?

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times )

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

The Whispers of Rock is a personal journey through aeons of geology

In her new book, earth scientist Anjana Khatwa writes a love letter to Earth's rocks and mountains, offering a passionate blend of science and spirituality

The rocks of the Jurassic Coast in the UK span 185 million yearsJames Osmond/Alamy The Whispers of RockAnjana Khatwa, The Bridge Street Press (UK); Basic Books (US, out 4 November) IT IS easy to take rocks for granted. How often do we think about the materials that make up the pavements we walk on, or the origins of the pebbles we pick up while sitting at the beach? And how often do we realise the importance of geology when it comes to nature writing and the hard-hitting conversations now happening about our warming world? Any action concerning climate change and the future of our planet needs to incorporate how we interact with the components that make up our world. How fortunate, then, that we can gain such an understanding from earth scientist Anjana Khatwa and her new book, The Whispers of Rock: Stories from the Earth. Billed as an “exhilarating journey through deep time”, it is a love letter written with such passion that you can’t help but be moved. Khatwa has devoted much of her life to spreading the gospel of geology, and here she offers clinical, scientific substance to back up her extraordinary depth of feeling. Throughout the book, she is methodical in her explanations of subjects such as how mountains, craters and slate are formed, while also weaving in fascinating details. We learn that the Taj Mahal in India, an iconic symbol of love, was constructed with ivory-white Makrana marble, the origins of which date back to when several primitive land masses collided nearly 2 billion years ago. A recipe incorporating those tectonic movements, cyanobacteria, photosynthesis and calcium carbonate led to the rock used in this extraordinary monument, a much more complex process than might be realised at first glance. Once she has established their scientific foundation, Khatwa brings the stories of rocks and minerals to life – and does so far more sensually than any school geology lesson I can remember. In Petra, Jordan, she pushes the reader to take heed of the negative space where rock has been cut back to form buildings, and the beauty that can emerge in unexpected places. Among sandstone and quartz, the rocks whisper “these patterns you see are the traces of rivers of old”, she writes. These are Khatwa’s friends, and soon these “story keepers of time” become ours too. “ A recipe incorporating tectonic collisions, photosynthesis and more led to the marble used in the Taj Mahal “ Khatwa’s love of rocks emerged as a child, when she walked over solidified lava flows in south-east Kenya. In her book, she takes us with her around the world and across aeons, all the way to her home of 20 years in Dorset, UK, where the Jurassic Coast World Heritage Site and its 185 million years of geological history are her neighbours. On this journey, we come to learn how rocks have shaped her and our world alike. We visit Stonehenge’s massive sarsen stones on Salisbury plain in the UK, uncover the science and mythology of the pounamu greenstones in New Zealand and follow the racial and political history of the Black Belt, a region of dark, fertile soil in the US South that was dominated by cotton plantations, following the forced removal of Indigenous communities. But what makes this book really stand out is Khatwa’s personal touch. She offers us vulnerability, sharing her own experiences of motherhood and faith, while not shying away from the fact that the environmental sector in which she works is one of the least diverse fields in the UK. She describes how she found herself “moulded into a different person by the whiteness of the environments I worked in”, with her cultural and spiritual identity taking second place to her scientific self. This book is a must-read for anyone trying to balance that duality, as well as those who wish to understand it. We cheer Khatwa on as she holds on tight to her rocks and navigates spaces of belonging and unbelonging. The Whispers of Rock is so packed with information that every chapter requires you to step away and process it. Khatwa is also deliberately provocative, admitting from the beginning of the book that its alliance of science and spirituality may cause discomfort and consternation in some readers because it just isn’t what people are used to. But this potentially divisive approach is a catalyst for a truly thought-provoking odyssey. Dhruti Shah is a freelance journalist based in London

Swimming Drone Explores Underwater Mountain in Lake Superior

Filmmakers and researchers are using drones to explore an underwater mountain in Lake Superior

Known to some as the “Freshwater Everest,” if you want to explore this mountain, you don’t go up, you go down.In the middle of Lake Superior, near the boundary between Canadian and US waters, sits the Superior Shoal, a mountain that’s completely underwater. The shoal is about 4 square miles of volcanic rock that rises up from the bottom of the lake to a height nearly three times that of the Statue of Liberty. Its peak wrests about 30 feet below the surface. Now, filmmakers and researchers are exploring it with underwater drones. They want to see if it’s a hotbed for aquatic life that could offer a refuge for species facing obstacles elsewhere in the Great Lakes.“This is an area that has very, very rarely been explored on camera,” said Zach Melnick, a cofounder of Inspired Planet Productions, which he runs with his business partner and wife, Yvonne Drebert. It’s not the only underwater incline in the Great Lakes. Others include Stannard Rock, a reef in Lake Superior north of Marquette; a knoll outside Tobermory, Ontario in Lake Huron; and Midlake Reef in Lake Michigan, between Muskegon and Milwaukee. And it’s not the only “Superior Shoal.” There’s another located in the St. Lawrence River off the shore of New York. But Drebert and Melnick believe the Superior Shoal in Lake Michigan is the largest known underwater mountain in fresh water. Documenting aquatic life with a swimming robot The filmmakers had been curious about lake protrusions after exploring one that appeared to be an outlier of aquatic life while filming their series and related documentary, “ All Too Clear: Beneath the Surface of the Great Lakes.” Those works dive deep into how invasive mussels in the Great Lakes are gobbling up essential nutrients and devastating organisms, from plankton to whitefish.When a researcher they’d worked with in the past, Michael Rennie, got a grant to explore the Superior Shoal, they “sort of begged him,” Melnick said, to let them come along.Rennie is an associate professor at Lakehead University and a research fellow at the International Institute for Sustainable Development-Experimental Lakes Area. Now, with the help of the filmmakers’ cameras, he’s looking into whether the Superior Shoal might be a hotspot for life, which he said is often the case for similar seamounts found in the ocean. What they’re essentially studying, Rennie said, is “how the physics of having this giant mountain in a bunch of water that’s swirling around all the time interacts with things like nutrients, and with the growth of algae, to promote the abundance of fish that we seem to be seeing out there.”Melnick and Drebert are operating special cinema-grade cameras to monitor aquatic life like zooplankton, algae and fish. The drone they use is called a Boxfish Luna and it can go around 1,600 feet deep, about the length of five football fields.“Think of aerial drones, take all that cool technology, and put it in a robot that you’re shoving underwater,” Drebert said. “But our drone is a little bit special because it can swim in any direction, just like a fish.”Usually, it takes a little while for fish to get used to the swimming drone, Melnick said, but fish near the Superior Shoal seemed to be curious.“The trout out there were ultra amenable to being on camera,” he said. At one point, while the team was livestreaming video, they tried to measure fish with two laser points. The fish chased the glowing red dots the same way cats do. They also saw hydra, which are kind of like freshwater anemones, attached to rocks, giving the effect of a garden.“They are little tiny aquatic animals that wave in the wind,” said Drebert. “They use their little hairy tentacles to pull food, like little zooplankton and critters, out of the water.”Rennie said the data collected on the recent trip has not been fully analyzed yet. But, if research shows that the Superior Shoal is a magnet for aquatic life, then maybe it and places like it could serve as refuges for near-shore populations dealing with environmental or human-caused problems.“And, if that’s the case, then I think we’ve got really good arguments to be made for maybe we should think about affording these regions a higher conservation status,” Rennie said. Melnick and Drebert are planning to use footage taken from the Superior Shoal in a documentary they’re developing about lakemounts as well as a wildlife docuseries they’re working on. This story was originally published by Bridge Michigan and distributed through a partnership with The Associated Press.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Sept. 2025

‘We made everything bear-proof’: the Italian village that learned to love its bears

By learning to live with its ursine neighbours, mountainous Pettorano sul Gizio has drawn tourists and new residents, bucking a trend of rural declinePettorano sul Gizio is a medieval mountain town full of alleys, watchful cats and wooden doors locked sometime in the last century. In the lower parts of town, rustic charm turns into abandonment – branches grow out of walls and roofs have fallen in. The only bar closed at Christmas, after the owner died. Some “For Sale” signs have been up so long the phone number is illegible.The town, with its faded ochre and orange hues, is listed as one of Italy’s I Borghi più belli (an association of historic towns). In 1920, about 5,000 people lived here, now the population is 390. It resembles many others in Italy’s south-central Abruzzo region, home to a shrinking, ageing population. One nearby town has been almost completely abandoned, and is home to just 12 people. Continue reading...

Pettorano sul Gizio is a medieval mountain town full of alleys, watchful cats and wooden doors locked sometime in the last century. In the lower parts of town, rustic charm turns into abandonment – branches grow out of walls and roofs have fallen in. The only bar closed at Christmas, after the owner died. Some “For Sale” signs have been up so long the phone number is illegible.The town, with its faded ochre and orange hues, is listed as one of Italy’s I Borghi più belli (an association of historic towns). In 1920, about 5,000 people lived here, now the population is 390. It resembles many others in Italy’s south-central Abruzzo region, home to a shrinking, ageing population. One nearby town has been almost completely abandoned, and is home to just 12 people.A postcard of Pettorano sul Gizio from about 1920, when the town’s population was 5,000. Photograph: Angela Tavone/Rewilding ApenninesBut Pettorano sul Gizio is different – set apart by its passion for bears. A lifesize model of a brown bear and cub stands in the town square, and paintings of bears look down from the walls.At dawn and dusk, a bear known as Barbara is known to wander the narrow streets – sometimes trailed by cubs – to see if she can pilfer any food.Now known as “the town that went wild”, it has attracted a new crowd of younger people working in nature restoration. Yet, making peace with the town’s critically endangered Marsican, or Apennine, bears (Ursus arctos marsicanus), which are endemic to the Abruzzo region, was not easy.An adult Marsican, or Apennine, brown bear in Abruzzo. Photograph: Bruno D’Amicis/NPLThe biggest threat to the bears is humans, so conservationists realised that people living in these remote towns needed to want to protect them.There was a climate which was against the bear. We had to do something in a more practical wayOne reason the bear population is doing so well is because so many people left the region. A blurred photo of the village in 1905 shows hills stripped bare by grazing livestock and deforestation caused by the carbonari, or charcoal-makers.After the second world war, as Italy’s economy boomed, rural people left to work in the cities. As human pressure on the landscape declined, nature bounced back – the Marsican brown bear population now numbers about 60 individuals, and appears to be increasing. But the people who remained had forgotten how to live alongside large predators.Bear claw marks on tree bark in an Abruzzo beech forest. Photograph: Bruno D’Amicis/NPL/AlamyRelations were at their worst 10 years ago during the rein of Peppina, a 135kg “problem bear”, who raised cubs in the area for several years. She was known for her raids on people’s chickens, bees and orchards, hoovering up any food she could find. Mario Cipollone, of Rewilding Apennines, says she was “most vicious in these raids”.In 2014, tensions between local people and animals came to head when a young male bear was shot by a hobby farmer after it raided a chicken coop. Many people supported the man, who claimed he was attacked by the bear. There are no documented cases of Marsican bears killing humans, and they are generally shy and avoid contact with people.Cipollone says: “There was a climate which was against the bear.” The bear’s death created a paradigm shift. “We had to do something in a more practical way,” he says.Mario Cipollone, of Rewilding Apennines, with a bear-proof bin in Pettorano sul Gizio. Photograph: Angela Tavone/Rewilding ApenninesSo in 2015, Pettorano sul Gizio became the first “bear-smart” community in Italy. Electric fences were erected around more than 100 properties to protect bees, chickens and other farm animals; gates and bear-proof bins were installed; and manuals on how best to live alongside bears were distributed around Pettorano sul Gizio and the neighbouring town of Rocca Pia.These places make me think that we can do something, that best practices really existResidents are urged not to leave food out; ripe fruit is picked off the ground in orchards and food waste kept indoors until the rubbish is collected. Since 2014, “there has been a dramatic decline in damage”, says Cipollone.Peppina’s successor, Barbara, prowls the alleyways of Pettorano sul Gizio but she no longer causes any damage. By 2017, there had been a 99% reduction in bear raids compared with three years earlier, according to data from Salviamo L’Orso, a bear conservation organisation, who also says there have been no damages since 2020.“The amount of damage has almost been eradicated,” says Cipollone. “We made everything bear-proof.”An infographic in Pettorano sul Gizio outlining the lifestyle and habits of the Mariscan bears. Photograph: Phoebe Weston/The GuardianOther European countries are taking note. There are now 18 bear-smart communities across Europe, funded by the EU’s Life environmental programme.While depopulation may have drawn bears to the region, in Pettorano sul Gizio bears are now bringing back people.It’s not just about tourism. It’s about making people believe they can remain here and have a very good lifeLast October, Valeria Barbi, an environmental journalist and naturalist, visited the bear-smart community and liked the town so much she decided to stay.“This place has made me shine again in a certain way,” she says. “I was a little bit overwhelmed about the [global] ecological situation. But these places make me think we can do something, that best practices really exist.”The afternoon sun warms the mountain village of Pettorano sul Gizio in the province of L’Aquila, Abruzzo, Italy. Photograph: Stefano Valeri/AlamyMilena Ciccolella, owner of Il Torchio restaurant, describes the rewilding events as “a real lifesaver in economic terms”, so much so that they are now offering vegetarian food on their once meat-dominated daily menu to coax in nature-loving travellers.Mario Finocchi, president of the Valleluna Cooperative Society, says: “There is an increasing trend in the presence of tourists in the area. Some people who came as tourists then decided to buy a house here.”The number of tourists staying in Pettorano sul Gizio has increased from about 250 in 2020 to more than 2,400 last year, according to accommodation data collected by Valleluna.It is good to have tourism, but “it is important to have people actually living here,” says Finocchi. “There is a new young community who have come here because of bears, who are working on socially and culturally enriching the town.”Marsican brown bears playing among autumn foliage in Central Apennines, Abruzzo. Photograph: Bruno D’Amicis/NPL/AlamyIn the evenings, dozens of people can be found outside La Pizzicheria Di Costantino, which sells large hunks of local cheeses and hams, alongside bear-themed beer. The owner, Massimiliano del Signore, who runs it with his wife, says they moved here for the nature, tranquility and people.“We fell in love and decided to invest in the area,” he says. “It is not just about tourism. It’s about making people believe they can remain here and have a very good life.”Find more age of extinction coverage here, and follow the biodiversity reporters Phoebe Weston and Patrick Greenfield in the Guardian app for more nature coverage

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