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Scientists race to understand why tufted puffins are disappearing from the Pacific Northwest

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Sunday, September 14, 2025

THE STRAIT OF JUAN DE FUCA — The R/V Puffin sliced through uncharacteristically calm waters near Smith Island, a lopsided pancake of land often buffeted by wind and waves at the end of the strait.Just after a July sunrise, four researchers on the boat eyed a cracked and collapsing bluff, the home to about 25 breeding pairs of the tufted puffin, a bird in mysterious decline here.“You are looking at the largest remaining colony of tufted puffins in the Salish Sea,” said Peter Hodum, a professor with the University of Puget Sound.In Washington, the tufted puffin has seen a 90% reduction in population in recent decades with fewer than 2,000 of the birds remaining on the West Coast. The bird isn’t at risk for extinction (over a million still live in Alaska), but when Washington listed the species as endangered in 2015, the agency wrote that with the current rate of decline, the state’s population could be gone by 2055.The reasons for the tufted puffins’ decline in the Northwest isn’t fully understood. Researchers here are seeking answers before it might be too late to bring these populations back from the brink.Surprisingly, another species of Salish Sea puffin, one known for its austere and stocky appearance, might hold some clues. Around 14 miles away from this cliffside, the rhinoceros auklet breeds on a larger island — and is flourishing. Tens of thousands of burrows dot the seaside cliffs, and each summer fierce-eyed rhinoceros auklets — which are a puffin despite the name — flock to them, said Scott Pearson, a senior research scientist with the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife.The divergent paths of the rhinoceros auklet and the tufted puffin are part of the mystery that scientists Pearson and Hodum have tried to prod in their research and talks.Combinations of factors related to the birds’ well-being are likely at play. Both are in a subgroup of the alcid or auk family of seabirds. Both birds raise a single egg each year. They dive deep into the ocean to forage for fish, but the tufted puffin has a more limited diet, locally, and is much more skittish and sensitive to human interference.For Hodum and Pearson, their comparative study of the two species could shed light on what exactly is driving the tufted puffins’ decline.They also fear that one day the rhinoceros auklet will follow the path of the tufted puffin. Warming seas and ocean acidification threaten fish and the diet of both birds. The marine environment is changing, perhaps too fast for either bird to adapt, Hodum said.“They’re telling us and showing us what’s going on. Are we really paying attention?” he said.The tufted puffinEach spring, tufted puffins journey from the vast Pacific Ocean to breed at colonies along the West Coast, Alaska, Siberia and Japan.Ahead of the journey, the otherwise drab gray seabirds transform. Their faces whiten, highlighting giant, ridged, bright orange bills. Blond plumes erupt from their heads, giving the species its clownlike appearance.Once returned to their colonies, the birds stretch and yawn at each other. Thought to bond with the same mate year after year around the same burrow, the tufted puffins’ courtship rituals include clapping bills against each other and showing each other nesting material.In Washington, 44 tufted puffin colonies were once found throughout the San Juan Islands, the outer coast of the Olympic Peninsula and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. In the late 1970s, researchers estimated around 23,000 birds lived among these sites. Today, the colonies on the San Juan Islands are empty, and just 19 breeding sites remain in the state.According to recent research, the tufted puffin population is in decline across California, the Pacific Northwest and the Gulf of Alaska, around three-quarters of the bird’s North American range. The species is also declining in Japan, though over a million birds are estimated to be holding steady or growing in the Aleutian Islands of Alaska.In 2020, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service declined to list the tufted puffin as threatened or endangered under the Endangered Species Act, citing that while the bird’s range is contracting, the species is still “widely distributed” and “maintains high overall abundance.”Race for answersFor the scientists surveying puffins along Smith Island, the race is on. Hodum and Pearson have theories as to what is driving the tufted puffins’ decline locally — fewer fish, more bald eagles, contaminants in the water, humans leading them to abandon their burrows. But until the scientists pin down what’s driving the decline, most conservation efforts are an experiment, Hodum said.At the top of the cliff at Smith Island, the scientists have placed a handful of tufted puffin decoys, which they hope will attract more birds into mating. It’s a conservation technique that helped recover the widely recognized Atlantic puffin on the East Coast.Recently, the scientists have been thinking about which islands in Washington might be the best place to reintroduce tufted puffins to boost their survival, Pearson said. One possibility could include the scientists placing tufted puffin chicks that were born in captivity in burrows when they are just ready to leave and venture into the world for the first time. After living on sea for three or four years, the scientists would hope they would return to breed.The cliffs are eroding at Smith Island, and over 20 years ago, the last of its lighthouse fell into the water. Today, rusted electricity cables that jut out and dangle from the cliff face and a weathered white home and two radio towers with eagle nests serve as landmarks for the scientists when identifying burrows. (Strangely, one or possibly two errant horned puffins also visit Smith each summer.)Although Smith Island is the largest tufted puffin colony in the Salish Sea, it’s not the only one. At least one active burrow remains on another nearby island, where the rhinoceros auklets live in abundance.A seabird sanctuaryKneeling in a bed of cheatgrass, Hodum snaked a black cable attached to an infrared camera several feet into a dark hole in the ground deeper than his shoulders.On Hodum’s headset screen, a barely recognizable gray blob came into view. To an untrained eye, it almost looked like a rock until it started to move, a beady black eye and beak coming into relief. Suddenly, the gray blob morphed into a fuzzy baby bird — a rhinoceros auklet chick the size of a small grapefruit.The chick is oblivious to the camera. Its parents are likely out on the open water, foraging or bobbing on the surface. Long after the late summer sun has set, the parents, alongside thousands of other rhinoceros auklets, will descend upon this island in the dark with neat rows of sand lance and other fish stacked in their beaks.Just a few miles off Sequim, and 14 miles south of the tufted puffins of Smith Island, lies Protection Island. It’s a wildlife refuge over seven times the size of Smith Island and largely untouched by people. On top of the island, deer hop through nonnative pasture grasses. Lazy seals and their pups lounge and mottled seagull chicks waddle along the shore at the primitive marina.Like Smith Island, Protection Island is closed to the public, but it almost wasn’t that way. In the 1970s the island was narrowly saved from the jaws of development when The Nature Conservancy and environmental activists, citing the island’s importance to nesting seabirds, successfully fought off the development of 800 vacation homes.Now scientists travel up the island’s steep slopes in a white Jeep on dirt roads, which were originally bulldozed when the island was first being prospected. A land frozen in time, water pipes stick up in the middle of fields, connected to nowhere, a reminder of what the island almost became.The few structures on the island include one private residence and a U.S. Fish and Wildlife caretaker’s cabin. The night before, the scientists stayed up past midnight on the island to study the diets of the rhinoceros auklets, who (unlike the tufted puffins) return to their pufflings at night.Thanks to this conservation, the island’s greatest real estate asset is perhaps its habitat, which includes nearly 55,000 burrows on steep grassy slopes. The burrowing birds (which include pigeon guillemots) have dug them with their beaks and feet — sometimes with branches — to be several feet deep. Research estimates that the island hosts around 35,000 breeding pairs of rhinoceros auklets each summer, making it the third largest colony for its species in North America.Pearson and Hodum have a few ideas on why the rhinoceros auklet, which is evolutionarily the oldest puffin species, might have fared well in recent decades. They deliver food to their chicks under the cover of night, away from bald eagles. Their chicks need less food less frequently compared with the tufted puffin, and they eat a wider range of fish.The rhinoceros auklet is also just a hardier bird. Researchers have netted rhinoceros auklets, held them in hand, clawing and biting, and stuck GPS and satellite trackers on them with little issue, Hodum said. Some research indicates tufted puffins will abandon their burrows after they are caught and tagged. Human disturbance is likely part of the reason tufted puffins fled the San Juan Islands, Pearson said.An uneasy futureOn Protection Island, just two tufted puffin burrows remain and at least one of them has been active recently, and the researchers keep their distance. It’s a far cry from the dozens of tufted puffins that were observed in the 1970s and 1980s, and it’s quite possible that this colony could be lost too in the “next few years,” Hodum said.Pearson said the privilege of visiting Protection and Smith islands up close as a researcher isn’t lost on him, and there’s a reason the islands are closed. Rhinoceros auklet burrows are fragile and prone to collapsing if stepped on. There are also black oystercatcher eggs on the beach and other species that rely on the absence of people to thrive.The scientists are careful to modify their methods for each puffin species, and to date, a burrow has never failed because of their work, Pearson said.“If there were a lot of people on this island, people bringing their dogs or whatever, we would lose the (puffins). Birds can’t handle that level of human activity,” he said.If you purchase a product or register for an account through a link on our site, we may receive compensation. By using this site, you consent to our User Agreement and agree that your clicks, interactions, and personal information may be collected, recorded, and/or stored by us and social media and other third-party partners in accordance with our Privacy Policy.

Scientists think fewer than 2,000 tufted puffins remain on the West Coast.

THE STRAIT OF JUAN DE FUCA — The R/V Puffin sliced through uncharacteristically calm waters near Smith Island, a lopsided pancake of land often buffeted by wind and waves at the end of the strait.

Just after a July sunrise, four researchers on the boat eyed a cracked and collapsing bluff, the home to about 25 breeding pairs of the tufted puffin, a bird in mysterious decline here.

“You are looking at the largest remaining colony of tufted puffins in the Salish Sea,” said Peter Hodum, a professor with the University of Puget Sound.

In Washington, the tufted puffin has seen a 90% reduction in population in recent decades with fewer than 2,000 of the birds remaining on the West Coast. The bird isn’t at risk for extinction (over a million still live in Alaska), but when Washington listed the species as endangered in 2015, the agency wrote that with the current rate of decline, the state’s population could be gone by 2055.

The reasons for the tufted puffins’ decline in the Northwest isn’t fully understood. Researchers here are seeking answers before it might be too late to bring these populations back from the brink.

Surprisingly, another species of Salish Sea puffin, one known for its austere and stocky appearance, might hold some clues. Around 14 miles away from this cliffside, the rhinoceros auklet breeds on a larger island — and is flourishing. Tens of thousands of burrows dot the seaside cliffs, and each summer fierce-eyed rhinoceros auklets — which are a puffin despite the name — flock to them, said Scott Pearson, a senior research scientist with the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife.

The divergent paths of the rhinoceros auklet and the tufted puffin are part of the mystery that scientists Pearson and Hodum have tried to prod in their research and talks.

Combinations of factors related to the birds’ well-being are likely at play. Both are in a subgroup of the alcid or auk family of seabirds. Both birds raise a single egg each year. They dive deep into the ocean to forage for fish, but the tufted puffin has a more limited diet, locally, and is much more skittish and sensitive to human interference.

For Hodum and Pearson, their comparative study of the two species could shed light on what exactly is driving the tufted puffins’ decline.

They also fear that one day the rhinoceros auklet will follow the path of the tufted puffin. Warming seas and ocean acidification threaten fish and the diet of both birds. The marine environment is changing, perhaps too fast for either bird to adapt, Hodum said.

“They’re telling us and showing us what’s going on. Are we really paying attention?” he said.

The tufted puffin

Each spring, tufted puffins journey from the vast Pacific Ocean to breed at colonies along the West Coast, Alaska, Siberia and Japan.

Ahead of the journey, the otherwise drab gray seabirds transform. Their faces whiten, highlighting giant, ridged, bright orange bills. Blond plumes erupt from their heads, giving the species its clownlike appearance.

Once returned to their colonies, the birds stretch and yawn at each other. Thought to bond with the same mate year after year around the same burrow, the tufted puffins’ courtship rituals include clapping bills against each other and showing each other nesting material.

In Washington, 44 tufted puffin colonies were once found throughout the San Juan Islands, the outer coast of the Olympic Peninsula and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. In the late 1970s, researchers estimated around 23,000 birds lived among these sites. Today, the colonies on the San Juan Islands are empty, and just 19 breeding sites remain in the state.

According to recent research, the tufted puffin population is in decline across California, the Pacific Northwest and the Gulf of Alaska, around three-quarters of the bird’s North American range. The species is also declining in Japan, though over a million birds are estimated to be holding steady or growing in the Aleutian Islands of Alaska.

In 2020, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service declined to list the tufted puffin as threatened or endangered under the Endangered Species Act, citing that while the bird’s range is contracting, the species is still “widely distributed” and “maintains high overall abundance.”

Race for answers

For the scientists surveying puffins along Smith Island, the race is on. Hodum and Pearson have theories as to what is driving the tufted puffins’ decline locally — fewer fish, more bald eagles, contaminants in the water, humans leading them to abandon their burrows. But until the scientists pin down what’s driving the decline, most conservation efforts are an experiment, Hodum said.

At the top of the cliff at Smith Island, the scientists have placed a handful of tufted puffin decoys, which they hope will attract more birds into mating. It’s a conservation technique that helped recover the widely recognized Atlantic puffin on the East Coast.

Recently, the scientists have been thinking about which islands in Washington might be the best place to reintroduce tufted puffins to boost their survival, Pearson said. One possibility could include the scientists placing tufted puffin chicks that were born in captivity in burrows when they are just ready to leave and venture into the world for the first time. After living on sea for three or four years, the scientists would hope they would return to breed.

The cliffs are eroding at Smith Island, and over 20 years ago, the last of its lighthouse fell into the water. Today, rusted electricity cables that jut out and dangle from the cliff face and a weathered white home and two radio towers with eagle nests serve as landmarks for the scientists when identifying burrows. (Strangely, one or possibly two errant horned puffins also visit Smith each summer.)

Although Smith Island is the largest tufted puffin colony in the Salish Sea, it’s not the only one. At least one active burrow remains on another nearby island, where the rhinoceros auklets live in abundance.

A seabird sanctuary

Kneeling in a bed of cheatgrass, Hodum snaked a black cable attached to an infrared camera several feet into a dark hole in the ground deeper than his shoulders.

On Hodum’s headset screen, a barely recognizable gray blob came into view. To an untrained eye, it almost looked like a rock until it started to move, a beady black eye and beak coming into relief. Suddenly, the gray blob morphed into a fuzzy baby bird — a rhinoceros auklet chick the size of a small grapefruit.

The chick is oblivious to the camera. Its parents are likely out on the open water, foraging or bobbing on the surface. Long after the late summer sun has set, the parents, alongside thousands of other rhinoceros auklets, will descend upon this island in the dark with neat rows of sand lance and other fish stacked in their beaks.

Just a few miles off Sequim, and 14 miles south of the tufted puffins of Smith Island, lies Protection Island. It’s a wildlife refuge over seven times the size of Smith Island and largely untouched by people. On top of the island, deer hop through nonnative pasture grasses. Lazy seals and their pups lounge and mottled seagull chicks waddle along the shore at the primitive marina.

Like Smith Island, Protection Island is closed to the public, but it almost wasn’t that way. In the 1970s the island was narrowly saved from the jaws of development when The Nature Conservancy and environmental activists, citing the island’s importance to nesting seabirds, successfully fought off the development of 800 vacation homes.

Now scientists travel up the island’s steep slopes in a white Jeep on dirt roads, which were originally bulldozed when the island was first being prospected. A land frozen in time, water pipes stick up in the middle of fields, connected to nowhere, a reminder of what the island almost became.

The few structures on the island include one private residence and a U.S. Fish and Wildlife caretaker’s cabin. The night before, the scientists stayed up past midnight on the island to study the diets of the rhinoceros auklets, who (unlike the tufted puffins) return to their pufflings at night.

Thanks to this conservation, the island’s greatest real estate asset is perhaps its habitat, which includes nearly 55,000 burrows on steep grassy slopes. The burrowing birds (which include pigeon guillemots) have dug them with their beaks and feet — sometimes with branches — to be several feet deep. Research estimates that the island hosts around 35,000 breeding pairs of rhinoceros auklets each summer, making it the third largest colony for its species in North America.

Pearson and Hodum have a few ideas on why the rhinoceros auklet, which is evolutionarily the oldest puffin species, might have fared well in recent decades. They deliver food to their chicks under the cover of night, away from bald eagles. Their chicks need less food less frequently compared with the tufted puffin, and they eat a wider range of fish.

The rhinoceros auklet is also just a hardier bird. Researchers have netted rhinoceros auklets, held them in hand, clawing and biting, and stuck GPS and satellite trackers on them with little issue, Hodum said. Some research indicates tufted puffins will abandon their burrows after they are caught and tagged. Human disturbance is likely part of the reason tufted puffins fled the San Juan Islands, Pearson said.

An uneasy future

On Protection Island, just two tufted puffin burrows remain and at least one of them has been active recently, and the researchers keep their distance. It’s a far cry from the dozens of tufted puffins that were observed in the 1970s and 1980s, and it’s quite possible that this colony could be lost too in the “next few years,” Hodum said.

Pearson said the privilege of visiting Protection and Smith islands up close as a researcher isn’t lost on him, and there’s a reason the islands are closed. Rhinoceros auklet burrows are fragile and prone to collapsing if stepped on. There are also black oystercatcher eggs on the beach and other species that rely on the absence of people to thrive.

The scientists are careful to modify their methods for each puffin species, and to date, a burrow has never failed because of their work, Pearson said.

“If there were a lot of people on this island, people bringing their dogs or whatever, we would lose the (puffins). Birds can’t handle that level of human activity,” he said.

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This family had a hoop house safely in the backyard. They grew a lot of food in the summer, and then they were always sad in November when it was starting to get cold. So they put up this hoop house, and they could be in there with T-shirts and grow the cold-weather greens that they really enjoyed all winter long. A neighbor complained, the city told them to take it down, and they kept fighting it. They pursued this for seven years. The city leaders would say things like, “What are you growing there? Why don’t you just go to Whole Foods? We’re a suburb, not an agricultural region.” And so [they] pursued this all the way down to the state legislature and passed the Right to Garden law. Just a couple of states in the country have this right, [that] says no matter the municipality, no matter [the] homeowner association rules, people have the right to grow food on their private property and on other property that’s not being used. That’s one of the motivations for writing this book. We’re facing major environmental and ecological problems that are going to lead to all kinds of other problems, like wars and economic distress. I think a lot of people feel like we can’t do anything about it. We can’t get anything changed at the U.N. level. We certainly can’t get an act of Congress passed. But we can get our municipalities to change code. What if every time you build a new condo, you have to have a garden spot the size of a parking space? Suddenly everything can start to change. There’s more green space, which means there’s more places for rain to fall that prevent flooding. There’s more green space, which means the cities are cooler and people are outside on the streets [more]. In this time, when so many people feel lost and alienated and lonely, this simple change in zoning on a municipal level could change the whole nature of American democracy. You described your book as part manifesto. What do you hope people take away from it? What I’m hoping people take away is that we still have commons that we devote to moving and parking cars, and we should ask for those back. For humans—not machines—and for plants, animals, insects, and microbes. Part of this manifesto is that these commons are not a free-for-all. What the commons provide is common bounty, a common wealth, that is off the market. My hope is that we start with these commons in cities, where by 2050, the majority of people in the world will live, and from there, that understanding of transactions starts to spread. So that’s my manifesto, to think back to common right: the right to food, fuel, and shelter. More useful, I argue, than the right to liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Nobody can eat those. Very few people can attain those without having access to money and power. But common law rights provided food, fuel, and shelter for everyone. And that’s, I think, where we need to start again. This interview has been edited for length and clarity. The post How Urban Gardens Can Bolster American Democracy appeared first on Civil Eats.

Activism
Technology
Food

From timber wars to cannabis crash: Scotia's battle to survive as California's last company town

The redwood wars are long over. Pacific Lumber is no more, but the company town it built endures in Humboldt County. Can it find a new life as a hidden real estate gem?

SCOTIA — The last time Mary Bullwinkel and her beloved little town were in the national media spotlight was not a happy period. Bullwinkel was the spokesperson for the logging giant Pacific Lumber in the late 1990s, when reporters flooded into this often forgotten corner of Humboldt County to cover the timber wars and visit a young woman who had staged a dramatic environmental protest in an old growth redwood tree.Julia “Butterfly” Hill — whose ethereal, barefoot portraits high in the redwood canopy became a symbol of the Redwood Summer — spent two years living in a thousand-year-old tree, named Luna, to keep it from being felled. Down on the ground, it was Bullwinkel’s duty to speak not for the trees but for the timber workers, many of them living in the Pacific Lumber town of Scotia, whose livelihoods were at stake. It was a role that brought her death threats and negative publicity. Julia “Butterfly” Hill stands in a centuries-old redwood tree nicknamed “Luna” in April 1998. Hill would spend a little more than two years in the tree, protesting logging in the old-growth forest. (Andrew Lichtenstein / Sygma via Getty Images) The timber wars have receded into the mists of history. Old-growth forests were protected. Pacific Lumber went bankrupt. Thousands of timber jobs were lost. But Bullwinkel, now 68, is still in Scotia. And this time, she has a much less fraught mission — although one that is no less difficult: She and another longtime PALCO employee are fighting to save Scotia itself, by selling it off, house by house. After the 2008 bankruptcy of Pacific Lumber, a New York hedge fund took possession of the town, an asset it did not relish in its portfolio. Bullwinkel and her boss, Steve Deike, came on board to attract would-be homebuyers and remake what many say is the last company town in America into a vibrant new community. “It’s very gratifying for me to be here today,” Bullwinkel said recently, as she strolled the town’s streets, which look as though they could have been teleported in from the 1920s. “To keep Scotia alive, basically.” Mary Bullwinkel, residential real estate sales coordinator for Town of Scotia Company, LLC, stands in front of the company’s offices. The LLC owns many of the houses and some of the commercial buildings in Scotia. Some new residents say they are thrilled.“It’s beautiful. I call it my little Mayberry. It’s like going back in town,” said Morgan Dodson, 40, who bought the fourth house sold in town in 2018 and lives there with her husband and two children, ages 9 and 6.But the transformation has proved more complicated — and taken longer — than anyone ever imagined it would. Nearly two decades after PALCO filed for bankrupcty in 2008, just 170 of the 270 houses have been sold, with 7 more on the market. “No one has ever subdivided a company town before,” Bullwinkel said, noting that many other company towns that dotted the country in the 19th century “just disappeared, as far as I know.” The first big hurdle was figuring out how to legally prepare the homes for sale: as a company town, Scotia was not made up of hundreds of individual parcels, with individual gas meters and water mains. It was one big property. More recently, the flagging real estate market has made people skittish.Many in town say the struggle to transform Scotia mirrors a larger struggle in Humboldt County, which has been rocked, first by the faltering of its logging industry and more recently by the collapse of its cannabis economy. “Scotia is a microcosm of so many things,” said Gage Duran, a Colorado-based architect who bought the century-old hospital and is working to redevelop it into apartments. “It’s a microcosm for what’s happening in Humboldt County. It’s a microcosm for the challenges that California is facing.” The Humboldt Sawmill Company Power Plant still operates in of Scotia. The Pacific Lumber Company was founded in 1863 as the Civil War raged. The company, which eventually became the largest employer in Humboldt County, planted itself along the Eel River south of Eureka and set about harvesting the ancient redwood and Douglas fir forests that extended for miles through the ocean mists. By the late 1800s, the company had begun to build homes for its workers near its sawmill. Originally called “Forestville,” company officials changed the town’s name to Scotia in the 1880s. For more than 100 years, life in Scotia was governed by the company that built it. Workers lived in the town’s redwood cottages and paid rent to their employer. They kept their yards in nice shape, or faced the wrath of their employer. Water and power came from their employer. But the company took care of its workers and created a community that was the envy of many. The neat redwood cottages were well maintained. The hospital in town provided personal care. Neighbors walked to the market or the community center or down to the baseball diamond. When the town’s children grew up, company officials provided them with college scholarships. “I desperately wanted to live in Scotia,” recalled Jeannie Fulton, who is now the head of the Humboldt County Farm Bureau. When she and her husband were younger, she said, her husband worked for Pacific Lumber but the couple did not live in the company town.Fulton recalled that the company had “the best Christmas party ever” each year, and officials handed out a beautiful gift to every single child. “Not cheap little gifts. These were Santa Claus worthy,” Fulton said.But things began to change in the 1980s, when Pacific Lumber was acquired in a hostile takeover by Texas-based Maxxam Inc. The acquisition led to the departure of the longtime owners, who had been committed to sustainably harvesting timber. It also left the company loaded with debt. To pay off the debts, the new company began cutting trees at a furious pace, which infuriated environmental activists. A view of the town of Scotia and timber operations, sometime in the late 1800s or early 1900s. (The Pacific Lumber Company collection) 1 2 1. Redwood logs are processed by the Pacific Lumber Company in 1995 in Scotia, CA. This was the largest redwood lumber mill in the world, resulting in clashes with the environmental community for years. (Gilles Mingasson / Getty Images) 2. Redwood logs are trucked to the Pacific Lumber Company in 1995 in Scotia, CA. (Gilles Mingasson / Getty Images) Among them was Hill, who was 23 years old on a fall day in 1997 when she and other activists hiked onto Pacific Lumber land. “I didn’t know much about the forest activist movement or what we were about to do,” Hill later wrote in her book. “I just knew that we were going to sit in this tree and that it had something to do with protecting the forest.” Once she was cradled in Luna’s limbs, Hill did not come down for more than two years. She became a cause celebre. Movie stars such as Woody Harrelson and musicians including Willie Nelson and Joan Baez came to visit her. With Hill still in the tree, Pacific Lumber agreed to sell 7,400 acres, including the ancient Headwaters Grove, to the government to be preserved. A truck driver carries a load of lumber down Main Street in Scotia. The historic company town is working to attract new residents and businesses, but progress has been slow. Then just before Christmas in 1999, Hill and her compatriots reached a final deal with Pacific Lumber. Luna would be protected. The tree still stands today.Pacific Lumber limped along for seven more years before filing for bankruptcy, which was finalized in 2008. Marathon Asset Management, a New York hedge fund, found itself in possession of the town. Deike, who was born in the Scotia hospital and lived in town for years, and Bullwinkel, came on board as employees of a company called The Town of Scotia to begin selling it off. Deike said he thought it might be a three-year job. That was nearly 20 years ago.He started in the mailroom at Pacific Lumber as a young man and rose to become one of its most prominent local executives. Now he sounds like an urban planner when he describes the process of transforming a company town.His speech is peppered with references to “infrastructure improvements” and “subdivision maps” and also to the peculiar challenges created by Pacific Lumber’s building.“They did whatever they wanted,” he said. “Build this house over the sewer line. There was a manhole cover in a garage. Plus, it wasn’t mapped.” Steven Deike, president of Town of Scotia Company LLC, and Mary Bullwinkel, the company’s residential real estate sales coordinator, examine a room being converted into apartments at the Scotia Hospital. The first houses went up for sale in 2017 and more have followed every year since.Dodson and her family came in 2018. Like some of the new owners, Dodson had some history with Scotia. Although she lived in Sacramento growing up, some of her family worked for Pacific Lumber and lived in Scotia and she had happy memories of visiting the town.“The first house I saw was perfect,” she said. “Hardwood floors, and made out of redwood so you don’t have to worry about termites.”She has loved every minute since. “We walk to school. We walk to pay our water bill. We walk to pick up our mail. There’s lots of kids in the neighborhood.”The transformation, however, has proceeded slowly. And lately, economic forces have begun to buffet the effort as well, including the slowing real estate market.Dodson, who also works as a real estate agent, said she thinks some people may be put off by the town’s cheek-by-jowl houses. Also, she added, “we don’t have garages and the water bill is astronomical.”But she added, “once people get inside them, they see the craftsmanship.”Duran, the Colorado architect trying to fix up the old hospital, is among those who have run into unexpected hurdles on the road to redevelopment. A project that was supposed to take a year is now in its third, delayed by everything from a shortage of electrical equipment to a dearth of workers.“I would guess that a portion of the skilled workforce has left Humboldt County,” Duran said, adding that the collapse of the weed market means that “some people have relocated because they were doing construction but also cannabis.”He added that he and his family and friends have been “doing a hard thing to try to fix up this building and give it new life, and my hope is that other people will make their own investments into the community.”A year ago, an unlikely visitor returned: Hill herself. She came back to speak at a fundraiser for Sanctuary Forest, a nonprofit land conservation group that is now the steward of Luna. The event was held at the 100-year-old Scotia Lodge — which once housed visiting timber executives but now offers boutique hotel rooms and craft cocktails. Many of the new residents had never heard of Hill or known of her connection to the area. Tamara Nichols, 67, who discovered Scotia in late 2023 after moving from Paso Robles, said she knew little of the town’s history. But she loves being so close to the old-growth redwoods and the Eel River, which she swims in. She also loves how intentional so many in town are about building community. What’s more, she added: “All those trees, there’s just a feel to them.”

Activism
Business
Conservation

Surfing Activism Takes Hold Across Latin America

Surfers and local communities in Peru, Chile, and Ecuador have stepped up efforts to safeguard their coastlines, pushing for laws that protect key surf spots from development and environmental threats. This movement highlights a shift where wave riders lead conservation, with potential benefits for tourism economies like Costa Rica’s. In Peru, a law passed in […] The post Surfing Activism Takes Hold Across Latin America appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

Surfers and local communities in Peru, Chile, and Ecuador have stepped up efforts to safeguard their coastlines, pushing for laws that protect key surf spots from development and environmental threats. This movement highlights a shift where wave riders lead conservation, with potential benefits for tourism economies like Costa Rica’s. In Peru, a law passed in 2000 set the stage by banning projects that disrupt ocean floors or water flows at surf breaks. Since then, groups have secured protections for nearly 50 sites. One campaign aims to reach 100 protected waves by 2030, driven by partnerships between surfers and experts who map out these areas. These actions respond to risks from ports, mining, and urban growth that could erase prime surfing zones. Chile followed suit when its Congress passed a bill earlier this year to shield surf breaks, backed by the Rompientes Foundation. The measure requires environmental reviews for any coastal work that might harm waves. Supporters argue it preserves natural features while supporting jobs tied to surfing, which draws visitors from around the world. Ecuador’s push remains in early stages, with activists collecting signatures to propose similar legislation. Coastal residents join surfers in these drives, focusing on sites vulnerable to oil spills and erosion. The goal extends beyond recreation: protected waves help maintain marine habitats and buffer against climate shifts. This trend echoes broader environmental work in the region. Global networks like Save the Waves have designated over 145 surf reserves worldwide, including several in Latin America. These zones enforce monitoring and cleanup to keep beaches viable for both locals and travelers. For Costa Rica, where surfing fuels a major part of the economy, these developments offer lessons. Places like Pavones and Tamarindo face similar pressures from tourism booms and infrastructure. Local groups here already advocate for marine parks, and observing neighbors’ progress could strengthen those calls. Sustainable practices ensure spots remain attractive without degrading the environment. Experts point out economic ties. Studies show protected surf areas boost visitor spending on lodging, gear, and guides. In Peru, for instance, conserved waves support small businesses that rely on consistent conditions. Chile’s new law includes provisions for community input, which could model inclusive planning. Challenges persist. Enforcement varies, and some projects slip through despite rules. In Ecuador, gathering enough support tests grassroots strength. Yet successes build momentum, inspiring Mexico and Panama to draft their own bills. As Latin American nations balance growth and preservation, surfing activism shows how sports can drive policy. For travelers, it means more reliable destinations that prioritize long-term health over short gains. Costa Rica, with its established eco-tourism focus, stands to gain by aligning with this regional wave. The post Surfing Activism Takes Hold Across Latin America appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

Activism
Conservation
Climate

Buddhist Monks Persist in Peace Walk Despite Injuries as Thousands Follow Them on Social Media

A group of Buddhist monks is persevering in their peace walk across much of the U.S. even after two participants were injured when a truck hit their escort vehicle

ATLANTA (AP) — A group of Buddhist monks is persevering in their walking trek across much of the U.S. to promote peace, even after two of its members were injured when a truck hit their escort vehicle.After starting their walk in Fort Worth, Texas, on Oct. 26, the group of about two dozen monks has made it to Georgia as they continue on a path to Washington, D.C., highlighting Buddhism's long tradition of activism for peace.The group planned to walk its latest segment through Georgia on Tuesday from the town of Morrow to Decatur, on the eastern edge of Atlanta. Marking day 66 of the walk, the group invited the public to a Peace Gathering in Decatur Tuesday afternoon.The monks and their loyal dog Aloka are traveling through 10 states en route to Washington, D.C. In coming days, they plan to pass through or very close to Athens, Georgia; the North Carolina cities of Charlotte, Greensboro and Raleigh; and Richmond, Virginia, on their way to the nation’s capital city.The group has amassed a huge audience on social media, with more than 400,000 followers on Facebook. Aloka has its own hashtag, #AlokathePeaceDog.The group's Facebook page is frequently updated with progress reports, inspirational notes and poetry.“We do not walk alone. We walk together with every person whose heart has opened to peace, whose spirit has chosen kindness, whose daily life has become a garden where understanding grows," the group posted recently.The trek has not been without danger. Last month outside Houston, the monks were walking on the side of a highway near Dayton, Texas, when their escort vehicle, which had its hazard lights on, was hit by a truck, Dayton Interim Police Chief Shane Burleigh said.The truck “didn’t notice how slow the vehicle was going, tried to make an evasive maneuver to drive around the vehicle, and didn’t do it in time,” Burleigh said at the time. “It struck the escort vehicle in the rear left, pushed the escort into two of the monks.”One of the monks had “substantial leg injuries” and was flown by helicopter to a hospital in Houston, Burleigh said. The other monk with less serious injuries was taken by ambulance to another hospital in suburban Houston. The monk who sustained the serious leg injuries was expected to have a series of surgeries to heal a broken bone, but his prognosis for recovery was good, a spokeswoman for the group said.Buddhism is a religion and philosophy that evolved from the teachings of Gautama Buddha, a prince turned teacher who is believed to have lived in northern India and attained enlightenment between the 6th and 4th centuries B.C. The religion spread to other parts of Asia after his death and came to the West in the 20th century. The Buddha taught that the path to end suffering and become liberated from the cycle of birth, death and reincarnation, includes the practice of non-violence, mental discipline through meditation and showing compassion for all beings.While Buddhism has branched into a number of sects over the centuries, its rich tradition of peace activism continues. Its social teaching was pioneered by figures like the Dalai Lama and Thich Nhat Hanh, who have applied core principles of compassion and non-violence to political, environmental and social justice as well as peace-building efforts around the world.Associated Press Writers Jeff Martin in Atlanta and Deepa Bharath in Los Angeles contributed.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – December 2025

Activism
Social Justice

Suggested Viewing

The Great Divide

Twenty minutes outside of Visalia, amidst the seemingly endless rows of citrus trees, Yolanda Cuevas packs enchiladas with shredded chicken for her husband Benjamin, their adult daughters and two teenaged grandchildren in her modest single-story home. Their house is the first one off the main drag, one of 83 lining the two crumbling roads that comprise the tiny town of Tooleville. Yolanda must wash the tomatoes for the salsa first in the sink and then again with a splash of clean water from a 5-gallon jug. The process is arduous, and though she’s resigned to do it, she’s not happy about it. Along with Tooleville’s several hundred other residents, Yolanda’s family has survived on bi-weekly delivery of water to their homes for the past 12 years. It’s an annoyance for the family, and it’s expensive for the State of California, which has been paying for the replacement water since the discovery of Chromium-6 (the same chemical featured in Erin Brokovich) in the water. The simpler solution would be to consolidate the town’s water system with that of its larger, affluent neighbor to the west, Exeter. And for this purpose, Yolanda has become a reluctant activist, attending community meetings in Tooleville and lobbying for consolidation at Exeter’s city council meetings under the expert guidance of Pedro Hernandez, an organizer with the Leadership Counsel. While Exeter has resisted the consolidation since it was first proposed, organizers like Pedro feel that this could be the year Exeter finally succumbs to the growing community pressure and brings Tooleville into the fold. The decision will echo around the Central Valley and across the state, as hundreds of similar community water systems find themselves in a nearly identical predicament.

Water
Activism
Documentary

The Z-Nail Gang

When a corporate mining giant moves into a small coastal town looking for gold and talking about trickle down wealth some folks just aren't convinced.

Activism
Resources
Fiction

Among Giants

Among Giants begins three years into the McKay tree-sit- a response to Green Diamond Resource Company’s clearcutting of redwood forests. Atop his tiny platform a hundred feet up in the ancient redwood canopy, Farmer must battle the elements and avoid isolation as he fights for a sustainable future. The film uses a restrained verite style that reflects the pace of life in the tree village. As Farmer outlasts a vicious storm, counts the rings on a felled tree, and trumps through a recent clear cut, the film asks questions about what it means to follow one’s beliefs and make a difference in the world.

Forests
Activism
Nature

Dry Wells of the Paso Basin: A Tragedy of the Commons

In the early 1990s, agricultural corporations and other investors began buying thousands of acres of cultivated and uncultivated land with water rights in the scenic wine country of San Luis Obispo County, California. They planted more vineyards and sank dozens of deep, powerful wells for irrigation that have over-drafted the already depleted Paso Robles Basin aquifer. Around 2010, the shallower wells of hundreds of country homes and small farms and ranches began failing. This documentary tells that story through the voices of three small landowners who lost their livelihoods and hopes for their futures when their wells went dry. The film then follows how they and their supporters organize social force to participate in local political processes to assert their water rights and their concerns for the environmental health of the Paso Basin.

Water
Agriculture
Activism

Salmon Secrets

Fish farming is pushing wild salmon to the brink of extinction. The federal government has promised to remove fish farms from BC waters by 2025, but now industry is pushing back with false solutions. Join Clayoquot Action’s fish farm watchdog program as a team of underwater cinematographers investigates an “experimental” fish farm near Tofino. What they find surprises them, and spells potential disaster for wild salmon. Featuring marine biologist and bestselling author Alexandra Morton, and traditional 'Na̱mg̱is Chief Ernest Alfred, who document the successful resurgence of salmon after the removal of fish farms from the Broughton Area and Discovery Islands.

Land Use
Activism
Nature

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