Saving Seafood

Dams give way to better habitat in Chesapeake Bay region

September 1, 2026 — A few years ago, biologist Brian Watson was looking for endangered mussels in Virginia’s Rock Island Creek when his assistant went around a bend and made a startling discovery. It wasn’t a rare mussel.

“There’s, like … a stone wall,” she shouted back to Watson. Then added, “That’s a dam.”

Standing 6 feet tall and stretching 55 feet across the creek, the dam was entirely unknown to them — appearing nowhere on maps or dam inventories.

But the dam wasn’t irrelevant to their project: It was taking a toll on mussels, as so many dams do. The biologists found shells of dead James River spinymussels, an endangered species, behind the structure.

“We assumed the mussels probably got washed down to the dam and then died as they got trapped,” said Watson, a mussel specialist for the Virginia Department of Wildlife Resources, noting that the sandy substrate and water depth behind the structure was unsuitable habitat.

It was one of more than 6,500 dams that dot more than 200,000 miles of waterways draining the Chesapeake Bay watershed. That’s an undercount. Many of them don’t appear on dam inventories. Research was required to learn that the one on Rock Island Creek was called the Baber’s Mill Dam, built in the early 1800s.

Large or small, dams create a host of problems. They alter habitat, block fish movement, change water temperatures, promote algal blooms and contribute to the decline of native species. Some are safety threats to people.

But the Baber’s Mill Dam no longer causes such problems.

By chance, an aquatic ecologist from the timber company Weyerhaeuser, which owned the property, contacted Watson about the dam a few months later. The state and company teamed up to remove the structure in April 2024.

Read the full article at Bay Journal 

‘We’re facing a double whammy’: America’s hottest tinned fish snack is shrinking by nearly half thanks to climate change and war in Iran

August 31, 2026 — Tinned fish is having a real global moment. The pandemic-era pantry habit has since turned into restaurants nationwide serving tinned fish straight out of the can. Domestically, sales climbed from $2.3 billion in 2018 to more than $2.7 billion in 2024, and the U.S.’s obsession with sardines specifically is only accelerating: Americans bought $3.52 billion worth of shelf-stable seafood over the past year, and sardines have overtaken salmon as the second-most-popular canned fish behind tuna, as Grubhub reported orders of tinned fish tripled in 2025. The global tinned fish market was worth roughly $10.24 billion in 2024 and is projected to reach $17.97 billion by 2034. Canned sardines are a meaningful part of that worldwide push.

But the supply behind that growing appetite is shrinking fast. Morocco, the world’s top sardine supplier, saw its fish landings fall nearly 46% between 2022 and 2024, and the reasons are feeding into each other. Because sardines are unusually sensitive to temperature, warming water as a result of climate change is pushing the fish into new territories farther away from fishermen.

The war in Iran, coupled with the effective shutdown of the Strait of Hormuz (through which one-fifth of the world’s global oil supply normally passes), is driving up fuel costs. Fishermen now need to go farther to catch the fish, just as it’s costing them that much more to travel longer distances, and they’re bringing back almost half the quantity as before.

Rashid Sumaila, a professor and Canada Research Chair in interdisciplinary ocean and fisheries economics at the University of British Columbia, has spent his career studying fisheries and how they navigate geopolitical forces. He said the combination is something he hadn’t seen affect the fishing industry in quite this way before.

“Sardines are very sensitive to climate change, and we know it here on the Pacific Coast,” Sumaila told Fortune. “When it’s warm, sardines move from Mexico through the U.S., and Canadians see more sardines. They follow the temperature.”

He said Morocco’s sardines are shifting, too, and he saw the same thing while on a trip to Portugal this summer, when he left his hotel at 2 a.m. for an early flight and the temperature was still 34°C (91°F).

“Some of that 45% drop is partly climate change, and partly overfishing, and other things happening to the ocean,” he said. “There’s just so much. You have pollution, plastic. Stresses upon stresses.”

The Iran war adds a second layer. While Iran’s own waters are not a major sardine source, Sumaila said the war still reaches Moroccan boats through the price of fuel.

“The Iran war doesn’t quite impact this directly,” he said, “but indirectly it does, because prices are going up. The price of fishing, the vessels, the energy. It’s crazy.”

Since the conflict began, Brent crude surged 10% to 13% after the Strait of Hormuz effectively closed to shipping this spring, an event the International Energy Agency called the largest oil-supply disruption in the market’s history. Sumaila said he heard the same complaint from fishermen thousands of miles from the Persian Gulf.

“Thai fishers are feeling it,” he said. “You can imagine Moroccan fishers, or fishers in Africa or the Pacific Islands, feeling it too.”

Read the full article at Fortune

CALIFORNIA: California’s rarest salmon face a narrow window for survival

August 24, 2026 — For California’s most endangered salmon, the difference between surviving and dying may come down to just 15 days.

In a study published Friday in Science Advances, researchers say the chance of juveniles surviving fell by about 73% for every 1.8-degree Fahrenheit increase in average river temperature during those first 15 days.

Sacramento River winter-run Chinook have only one surviving population, with an average of a few thousand fish returning in recent decades.

Shasta Dam keeps the salmon from returning to their original cold-water habitat around Mount Shasta in Northern California. Instead, they spawn in the Sacramento River, where warmer summer water can threaten their developing eggs.

Cold water is released from Shasta Reservoir to keep the river cool enough for salmon eggs to survive, but that water is also needed by farms and cities.

The balance becomes harder in dry years, when there’s less water to go around.

Kohma Arai, who conducted the research as a postdoctoral scholar at UC Davis, said a full summer of spawning doesn’t necessarily mean a successful season.

Read the full article at Courthouse News Service