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Hello from Wales, more precisely, from the Isle of Anglesey in the north of Wales. Here lies the School of Ocean Sciences (SOS) directly at the Menai Strait, where the ocean changes direction by 180 degrees four times a day. My name is Agnes, and I study Environmental Engineering in Munich and have decided to explore a new scientific topic with the GAME project. For someone like me, who is strongly interested in marine biology, it was quite a piece of luck to end up in a place with this high marine biodiversity. Every day, it seems like the sea breathes in and out – but mostly out as it is quite windy here, like a fresh salty breeze going through your hair.

Agnes (me) at the Natural Trust Reservoir of Penrhyn Castle, which is one of the most magnificent places near Bangor. If you have the chance to visit this reservoir, take your time to travel back in time by walking through Penrhyn Castle. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)

Before arriving here, I never imagined that the nature in North Wales is such a mysterious beauty. It does welcome you to sit in the forests and watch the wind weave its way through the trees, rustling the leaves and casting shifting patches of sunlight across the moss and undergrowth. Sometimes you can hear the calls of birds echoing above, and the scent of damp earth and pine is carried through the air. Or you might walk across rolling green fields speckled with grazing sheep and wildflowers, then reach the rocky coastline where the sound of waves crashing against cliffs rises to meet you. Within minutes, you can watch the deep blue sea stretching below or observe the silver shimmer of sunlight on the water. If you want to experience some lonely time in nature, that’s your place to be. When the deep-hanging clouds allow it, you can even see the mountains with their peaks often veiled in mist, waiting for your visit. There is a certain calmness to the landscape that envelops you, encourages you to be mindful. But let’s take a break from my romantic view of non-cultured nature and give you some information about the life and work here.

This photo is a rare moment of livestock farming with no sheep. This unique situation is worth being in this blog. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)
Not only is the ocean diversity magical, but also the many flowers around the green forests in north Wales. This is Astrantia major, also called “Große Sterndolde”, with a little visitor. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)
An example of one of the perfect places to lie down in the grass and listen to the wind and the water rushing by. In the middle of nowhere. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)
Bangor not only lies next to the ocean but also is only 30 min away from Snowdonia. Here we hiked the mountain Tryfan, with a view of the lake Llyn Ogwen. But to be honest, it was more a boulder than a hike. (Photo: Andres Krisp)
View from a small house in the woods, on a path along a river, this time with sheep. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)

Now, I live in Bangor, right next to a natural reservoir, perfect for running or just a slow walk to say goodnight to the sun and the cows who live there. But be careful, it is hilly in Bangor, even though I love to have a walk, the walk up the hill from the city back home takes a while. With the wind and respect to the hilly topography, I sometimes think about what it would be like to be a bird. It seems a perfect place for it.

Sheep on a field enjoying the sunset. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)
Two sheep on a field, also enjoying the sunset. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)

Many people asked me about the weather before I came here. Wales has a reputation for rain, wind and clouds, but so far, the reality I experienced has been quite different. April and May had been surprisingly sunny and somehow dry. However, locals keep reminding me that summer is still coming. During a hike, one colleague quoted her mother saying, “There is no bad weather, rain just makes the hike more atmospheric.” As a German, I can only agree to this philosophy.

Beach day on the Isle of Anglesey, during the heat wave that swept across Europe in May – suddenly there was only sunshine. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)
Hiking time, from no sight to the nicest view. (Photos: Luke Lazenby., Agnes Dechêne)
Barnacles that settled on the pier of the School of Ocean Sciences, Bangor University. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)

The people at the School of Ocean Sciences are just as welcoming as you can expect from the British. Everyone is willing to help, answer questions, and share ideas. The technical staff, Pete, Aled, and Steve, already provided invaluable support to me while I was planning and building the experimental mesh cylinder. Alice, a marine biologist who volunteers on the project, has also become a great help. Her expertise in identifying marine organisms perfectly complements my background in environmental engineering. My main supervisor, Svenja, and I meet regularly to discuss the progress of my work and solve the inevitable challenges that arise during a field experiment.

Preparation of the mesh cylinder – a technical staff member of the School of Ocean Sciences is cutting the material to its required size. This mesh was a leftover from a previous project, and I had the opportunity to use it for my experiment. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)
Settlement panels made from PVC, taking a sunbath before going to dip in the cold water of the Menai Strait. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)

Speaking of challenges, I need to mention that, for me, this year’s GAME project is slightly different from the other participants’, as I do not have a team partner. This year’s project examines how underwater soundscapes, such as boat noise, or natural habitat sounds influence the species composition and abundance of sessile marine invertebrates. Each of the two active sound treatment levels plays at a specific temporal rhythm for 2 or 3 months, depending on site-specific restrictions. If there are two team members, then each chooses one of those treatment levels for their experiment. For comparison, there is always an additional treatment level, the ambient control. To ensure the project is feasible while maintaining research quality, I chose to focus on only two sound treatment levels: anthropogenic noise and the ambient background soundscape as the control. Hence, over the next three months, I will use underwater speakers to play back boat noise to simulate exposure to an anthropogenic soundscape at one of my two study sites. At the other site, no additional sound will be added to the existing ambient soundscape.

Sketch of the two study sites used for this year’s GAME experiment in Wales. The site on the left represents the anthropogenic sound treatment, where boat noise is played continuously, while the site on the right serves as the ambient sound control. (Photos: Agnes Dechêne)

This experimental design allows me to examine whether differences in underwater sound conditions influence the settlement and growth of marine sessile organisms that attach to hard surfaces such as rocks or, as a substitute, settlement panels. My two experimental sites are located 500 meters apart to ensure acoustic isolation, meaning that the boat-noise playback will not influence colonisation at the Site of the Control Frame (Raft). However, as I am investigating whether boat noise influences community composition, it is essential to ensure that the two experimental sites do not differ substantially in their initial species pool. To assess this, I deployed larval-pool test panels for two weeks before the start of the experiment and identified the species that colonised them. Statistical analyses of these communities, together with information from previous studies conducted at the same locations and accounting for the unique tidal dynamics of the Menai Strait, enabled me to evaluate whether both sites experience comparable environmental conditions and larval supply.

The Menai Strait itself is shaping the local environment and is influencing the practical aspects of my research. Functioning as a channel that separates Anglesey from mainland Wales, it features tidal reversal. During these tidal shifts, water flows in opposing directions at different times, so that as the tide comes in, some water moves toward the strait’s central point. In contrast, simultaneously, other water recedes in the opposite direction as the tide goes out. This situation is comparable to a river that changes direction several times per day in response to the tides. But instead of being one river, the Menai Strait is more like two rivers that meet in the middle of the strait. Furthermore, the Menai Strait experiences some of the largest tidal ranges in the world, with a difference of up to 8 meters between low and high tide. On a personal level, I learned that misjudging the tidal schedule can make it difficult, or even impossible, to retrieve equipment, underscoring how closely the natural dynamics of the Menai Strait are intertwined with the day-to-day realities of conducting fieldwork here.

Technician Steve waiting to board the raft, which is permanently moored in the Menai Strait. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)
Final sound pressure level measurements at the Raft before the start of the experiment. Alice is holding the wooden slat supporting the HydroMoth at the depth of the mesh cages. While the boat-noise treatment was played continuously at the Pier site, measurements at the Raft site were used to verify that no experimental sound was detectable there. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)
Pete, Alice, and I were blessed one day with a beautiful rain shower. Luckily, everything was waterproof – except my raincoat and my shoes. (Photo: Steve Rowlands)
Drifting algae that got caught up in the mesh cylinder, which holds the settlement panels at the raft. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)
The experimental setup captures not only drifting algae but also jellyfish, but when the cylinders are moved in the water, they do free themselves. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)
Settlement panel from the raft after 2 weeks, with some first, barely visible colonisers. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)

Alongside the sound experiment, I am deploying additional recruitment panels, which are replaced with empty panels every two weeks. The retrieved panels are transported to the laboratory, where Alice and I identify the newly arrived species. This tracks which colonisers are present in the water column at different times during the experiment, and it is always a surprise which new species are on the panels. One of the most rewarding aspects of the project is the opportunity to see ecological processes unfold over time. Looking at the small, settled organisms through the microscope is like peeking into another world. So far, the panels are full of tiny hydrozoans, barnacles, bryozoans and tunicates.

The colonial hydrozoan Ectopleura larynx can be found all over our panels. (Photo: Alice Hegge)

Being responsible for the experiment in Wales on my own gives me many opportunities to learn and grow as a scientist. I have gained experience in logistics planning, organising fieldwork around tidal cycles, constructing equipment, processing samples, and managing acoustic and biological datasets. I never thought there would be so much planning required for a single site-specific experiment, especially since the theoretical preparation had already been completed during the course in Kiel. Nevertheless, this experience has left me with a long to-do list and many opportunities for further learning. One advantage is the opportunity to work closely with other team members on the GAME project and engage in meaningful exchanges. Whether discussing similar or contrasting challenges, finding solutions, or sharing personal experiences, it is important to both offer advice and share your experience working on an international project, just as much as you receive guidance from others.

At the moment, the experiment is fully underway. The mesh cylinders are in the water, the sound playback is running, and the first settlement panels have been analysed. Over the next few months, I will analyse species, check the sound system, and try to start writing my master’s thesis. Wish me and my little invertebrate’s luck!

I am enjoying life in Wales, learning some new things every day, about British history and environment, and trying to make it up Bangor’s hill. Between the strong tides, the endless shades of green and the ever-changing skies, it is hard not to enjoy the nature of the north of Wales.

Somewhere in Wales, at an ice-cold lake. One of the adventures on the weekends. (Photo: Agnes Dechêne)
With this, I wish a beautiful day and send you the biggest, windiest greetings from North Wales, UK (Photo: Andres Krisp).

To Settle or Not to Settle: Can Boat Noise Tip the Balance?

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Ocean Acidification

Team Madeira – At least one of us is thinking

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It all started with a bang – several million years ago. Beneath the Atlantic, successive eruptions raised an enormous volcanic mountain from the ocean floor, and its very tip now forms rugged cliffsides, deep red canyons and fertile ground for hotel chains. How land was formed here, in the middle of the ocean, is still plainly evident in the red and black banded mountainsides of Madeira, in pools of volcanic rock frozen mid-flow and in cliffs sculpted by magma, wind and water. Life clings to this volcanic ground with stubbornness: Cacti climb sheer ridges, while sage-green, brown and vibrant yellow shrubs crouch against the rugged terrain.

Today, Madeira is known as the Island of Flowers, an image that echoes across postcards, signs and souvenirs. Indeed, many of the winding mountain roads are lined by eucalyptus trees from Australia, tall white and lilac lilies from South Africa, and hydrangeas from Asia. Fitting for an island that lives from tourism, while also beginning to buckle under its strain.

Panaroma from the eastern most tip of Madeira, a few kilometers from the experimental site in the marina of Quinta do Lorde (Photo: Jana Firus)

Our own project looks, at least partly, at another, less visible invader: human-made sound. Beneath the ocean’s surface, boat engines add to the island’s natural underwater soundscape, and during the six months we spend here we want to find out whether sound changes where the larvae of marine sessile animals, such as bryozoans, tunicates or polychaetes, choose to settle. Those animals are sessile in their adult life, but as larvae they are free floating. In this stadium, they are influenced by a wide variety of environmental factors—including noise—while they seek out a suitable habitat in which they could settle and survive.

And with that “Óla” from Team Madeira. We are Elin and Jana, two German students who have come to Madeira for half a year to take part in this year’s GAME (Global Approach in Marine Ecology) project.

Jana studies biology at the Ruhr-University in Bochum. “I was always interested in marine biology and had already worked in this field for my bachelor’s thesis. When I decided that I didn’t want to move away from Bochum for my Masters, I was a little bit sad, deep down, thinking that I couldn’t continue to pursue marine biology. So, I was thrilled to return to the ocean and to fieldwork when I got accepted for GAME”.

Jana and Elin exploring the island on one of their first days in Madeira in April. (Photo: Niklas Firus)

Elin studies biological oceanography in Kiel “This year’s GAME topic of The influence of soundscapes on hard bottom community colonization seemed made for me, since I had already written my bachelors thesis about the colonization of hard substrates and if I could’ve picked any field, sound would have been it.”

This year is the first time that GAMIEs are working with sound, which made the planning phase in Kiel in March extra exciting for us. We tested underwater microphones, so called hydrophones, tried out speakers and had many, many, many discussions about scientific literature and the experimental setup. In the end all teams agreed on one basic concept: One student in each country would analyze the effects of boat noise and the other the influence of natural soundscapes on the formation of invertebrate communities. Natural soundscapes will be captured by deploying thydrophones in underwater habitats that are typical for the marine region a team is working in. In Madeira, the underwater world is strongly shaped by the past volcanic activity, and features steeply sloping rock faces and rocky areas that are overgrown with algae and sessile animals. These form the most typical habitat of the region. Furthermore, here and there they give way to sandy bottoms at greater depths.

We are investigating the settlement under the influence of natural sounds, because more and more marine habitats have been destroyed by human activity. In the past, several studies have been conducted on marine mammals, fish, shellfish and coral species, which found that when sound was used to simulate healthy habitats in otherwise disturbed environments, it led to the successful re-establishment of populations. A concept that is known as acoustic restoration.

In our experiments, both, the natural sounds and the boat noise, will be played back from speakers and will be directed onto plastic plates hanging in the water, to which the larvae of sessile animals can attach.

So much for the theory.

After arriving on Madeira in early April, we got to work and realized quickly that reality is lots of planning, glue, trips to the hardware store and starting over. Luckily, we have kind and helpful supervisors at MARE, the research institute here in Madeira, many of which are former GAMIEs. They contributed their experience, advice and occasional emotional first aid. But most of the time we’re trying to do as much as we can on our own – with special support from Jana’s electronics-technician-husband, Niklas, who also came along to Madeira and is of great help with all the equipment. Even though we had many long and a few frustrating days, it was nice to plan and build everything on our own. Actually, it’s incredibly rewarding to see the finished results of our work running smoothly while the experiments are going on.

One of our four frames inside and outside of the water. These are the structures that hold the plates on which the communities we study grow on. Our experimental site is the the marina of Quinta do Lorde. (Photos: Elin Disse)

Our workplace here in Madeira is the marina in Quinta do Lorde, which is almost on the eastern tip of the island. It’s a beautiful workplace, because most days the water is calm and clear and we get to see sepias, triggerfishes and a school of barracudas swimming in the shallow waters. This makes it all the more frustrating that it is forbidden to go in, due to the ship traffic – you can imagine how hard it is for two marine scientists to follow this rule, and how often we stare into the water longingly.

Two sepias spotted in the marina on a working day (Photo: Elin Disse)

The ideal way for us to run the two experiments was conducting them both at the same time. But of course, the playbacks of the natural soundscape and the boat noise shouldn’t mask or overlay each other. And they should not reach those panels that we have to study invertebrate settlement in the absence of any playbacks. This prerequisite is called acoustic isolation: whatever happens near one speaker shouldn’t affect the other settlement plates. Since sound can travel far under water, we choose the two opposite ends of the marina and two jetties in between for the deployment of the settlement panels.

Unfortunately, our workplace is in a busy marina and to check if the play-backed boat noise doesn’t affect the other locations where we placed settlement plates, we need silence throughout the entire area. So, we had to stop and redo the measurements many, many times, because of incoming and departing boats, loud wind, cracking noise from the jetties or technical difficulties with our hydrophones.

We had one truly frustrating Friday afternoon when we wanted to test acoustic isolation but couldn’t get even five minutes of silence without a boat engine in the background for hours! And then, shortly before we had to catch the last bus home, we finally managed to do the test- and it was perfect. We had recordings without any disturbances and we had acoustic isolation- which meant we could run both experiments in parallel.

Then the wind blew the hydrophone from the jetty into the water, while we were packing up. Jana was over it and ready to give up, but Elin declared it the best thing that had happened that day. She had in the morning naively predicted a short workday with plenty of time to go snorkeling. Instead, she got special permission to go into the marina just this once – and gleefully fished out the hydrophone. Everything was done just in time before the last bus came and we decided never to test acoustic isolation on a Friday afternoon again.

Fishing out the hydrophone after it fell into the water, from Elin’s and from Jana’s point of view. (Photo: Elin Disse; Jana Firus)

Since Jana studies the effects of natural soundscapes on larvae settlement, she needs to record the marine ecosystems of Madeira. The team at MARE helped her to choose a few promising locations, which best reflect Madeira’s rocky underwater landscape. They are in protected areas and have little boat traffic.We built six hydrophone stands, of which one was placed at each location with the help of a technical diver. The stands were constructed in a way that the hydrophone could be attached and detached by freediving from the surface, and this allows us to work independently of the diver. And, of course, to have the opportunity to go snorkeling for work :). For the first month it was just Elin who could hold her breath long enough to reach the hydrophone stand, which was in 5 to 8 meters water depth, because she had years of experience. But after training freediving while snorkeling in beautiful locations all over the island, first Niklas and then Jana figured it out and now we can divide this very popular task among the three of us.

Hydrophone stand ready for recording and Elin testing if she can reach it while freediving. (Photos: Susanne Schäfer)

Even when the project is running smoothly, there are always a million little things to think of, to plan and to organize. Our motto became ‘at least one of us is thinking’ – because of how often one of us forgot something or didn’t think ahead and the other one caught it just in time. And there is something to it. Even though we will write separate Master theses, we share the work and the responsibility, and it is amazing to work in a team in which you can truly rely on the fact that the other person cares just as much and is right there with you.

Elin and Jana working on the colonization panels and their first sampling event. (Photos: Niklas Firus)

When we’re not in the workshop building our frames or glued to the binocular during long sampling days, we love to be in the water for snorkeling trips or go hiking in the beautiful mountains. The island’s nature is fascinatingly versatile, and after almost 5 months have passed now, we’re sure that we’ll never grow tired of the amazing views. There are so many Levada trails with waterfalls, hidden paths through the mountains and small towns to visit. Levadas are man-made irrigation channels on Madeira. They carry the water from the mountains from the north to the south. The network, which spans a total of 2,000 to 3,000 kilometers, is used today not only for agriculture but primarily as a world-famous hiking trail. We make a point to go exploring new places, but the joy of staying for half a year is that you get to find your favorites and come back to them.

Elin and Jana on different hiking trips around the island. We both frequently get visits from friends or family members, and it is possible this to integrate into our work life. Since the experiments are running, it’s much easier to take a day off or even show the workplace our loved ones. (Photos: Niklas Firus)

We are really happy to have worked and lived here on Madeira, and we can’t believe that half a year has almost come to an end; we’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Team Madeira – At least one of us is thinking

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Ocean Acidification

Do Sea Turtles Get Lost?

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Did you know some female sea turtles can travel hundreds—or even thousands—of miles through open ocean before returning to nest on or near the very beaches where they hatched? In fact, Leatherback sea turtles take this long-distance travel to an extraordinary level. Pacific leatherbacks nesting in Indonesia have been documented migrating more than 10,000 kilometers to the West Coast of the United States. That’s the longest migration of any air-breathing marine vertebrate. So how do they accomplish this without Google Maps?

Scientists have found that sea turtles can sense magnetic information and use it as a navigational cue. Because the strength and angle of Earth’s magnetic field vary across the planet, these subtle differences can provide turtles with information about where they are and help guide their movements across the ocean. For turtles that return to their birthplace to nest (a behavior known as natal homing), these magnetic cues may be especially important. It’s an extraordinary system, but even the best navigation can take a turtle only so far.

Despite their great sense of direction, sea turtles don’t always make it where they’re going.

A sea turtle may be capable of navigating thousands of miles, but reaching the right destination is that much more of a challenge when human-caused obstacles lie in the way.

Artificial light is one example. Artificial lighting not only discourages nesting females from coming ashore but also has a harmful impact on hatchlings, which historically emerge from their nests at night and orient toward the brightest horizon. On a natural, undeveloped beach, that is generally the open ocean. But artificial light from coastal development can overwhelm the natural cue, drawing hatchlings inland away from the water and causing them to get lost on day one.

Coastal development not only brings more artificial light and human activity to the shoreline, but it also changes turtle habitats themselves. Buildings, roads and other development can alter or reduce areas sea turtles need for nesting. Shoreline armoring, such as seawalls, can eliminate the dry sand turtles need to successfully nest, while beach driving and other activities can further disrupt nesting habitats. And these challenges extend beyond the beach.

The ocean is getting noisier, too. Sea turtles have internal ears and can hear underwater sounds. Vessel traffic, oil and gas surveys, underwater construction and sonar all add noise to the marine environment. Human-generated sound can cause stress, disrupt normal behaviors or even force marine animals to move from preferred habitats or divert from migratory paths.

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Evolution never saw the plastic grocery bag coming.

Then there’s a threat sea turtles encounter almost everywhere they travel: plastic pollution. Sea turtles evolved over millions of years to spot drifting prey, like jellyfish. But plastic rapidly started to be used only around 60+ years ago.

Our plastic trash entered the ocean so quickly that animals haven’t had time to adapt. To a hungry sea turtle, a floating plastic bag still looks enough like dinner to trick even an experienced turtle. Plastic bags, balloons, soft plastic packaging and other plastics, once swallowed, can block a turtle’s digestive tract or puncture internal organs. And it doesn’t necessarily take much.

A recent Ocean Conservancy study of more than 10,000 marine animal autopsies found that nearly half of the sea turtles studied had ingested plastic. Even more alarming, researchers found that for adult loggerhead turtles, swallowing just one and a half times the plastic in a golf ball was enough to kill 50% of these creatures.

It’s a heartbreaking reminder that something we use for minutes can threaten an animal that’s been roaming Earth’s ocean for more than 100 million years.

A Hawaiian Green Sea Turtle captured from above as it glides over the reef.

Ancient animals still face very modern threats.

Sea turtles survived the extinction event that wiped out dinosaurs. They’ve outlasted shifting continents and dramatic changes to our planet. But surviving millions of years doesn’t make them invincible. Today, they’re facing threats that appeared in the blink of an evolutionary eye: plastic pollution, habitat loss, vessel strikes, fishing gear entanglement and climate change. The remarkable thing is that many of these challenges aren’t inevitable. They’re problems we can all help solve.

Together, we can reduce the amount of plastic that reaches the ocean. We can protect and restore nesting beaches. And we can support policies that protect healthy ocean ecosystems. Every action helps make our waters a safer place for animals that depend on it.

So, do sea turtles get lost? When left to their own devices, not often. Sea turtles have an extraordinary ability to navigate across vast stretches of open oceans. But there’s a bigger question worth asking: Can we help make the ocean a safe place while they make these incredible journeys? Navigation is only part of the challenge for sea turtles trying to find their way home. Sea turtles may know where they’re going, but it’s our job to ensure the ocean and coastlines they depend on are safe when they get there. That’s why Ocean Conservancy is committed to protecting our entire ocean—and all the creatures that dwell there.

We’re fortunate to share the planet with these amazing creatures. Their journeys are a remarkable feat of science and survival. To all the turtles out there: Here’s to finding your way—wherever you’re going!

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The post Do Sea Turtles Get Lost? appeared first on Ocean Conservancy.

https://oceanconservancy.org/blog/2026/08/27/do-sea-turtles-get-lost/

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Ocean Acidification

First Spotted, or Simply First Recorded? Velella and Our Ecological Blind Spots

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A remarkable strandline discovery deserves attention, but not exaggeration. The arrival of Velella velella on Sylt is probably Germany’s first documented record. It is not the first occurrence in the North Sea, nor is one stranding sufficient proof of a climate-driven invasion.

The discovery of Velella velella on Sylt on 23–24 August 2026 has been announced as the first German record of this oceanic hydrozoan (Listen to the News here). It is an exciting observation, but the word “first” needs careful interpretation. A first documented record is not necessarily the species’ first arrival. It may instead be the first time somebody recognized, photographed and reported it through the right channels. Fragile marine organisms such as Velella decompose rapidly, and their transparent floats are easily overlooked among material on the strandline.

A photographed Velella found on the west coast of Jutland in 2018 was considered the country’s first documented record. However, earlier reports exist (see here). Velella velella, known as the by-the-wind sailor or Segelqualle, is often described in the German media as a “Mediterranean jellyfish.” This is misleading. The species is a widely distributed oceanic hydrozoan found in tropical and warm-temperate waters, including the Mediterranean and the Northeast Atlantic. The familiar blue object is not a single conventional jellyfish but a floating colony of specialized polyps. Its diagonal sail allows wind to push the colony across the sea surface. Velella cannot swim effectively against this transport, so large strandings are principally the outcome of population size, surface currents and persistent onshore winds. The Sylt animals should therefore be understood as oceanic visitors transported into German waters, not automatically as an invasive species or an established North Sea population.

The North Sea has seen Velella before

In February 1988, thousands of colourless Velella floats washed ashore along the Belgian coast after strong westerly storms. The event was described as the first published North Sea record (See the article) Denmark also has a documented history. A photographed colony was found at Grønhøj on the west coast of Jutland on 26 July 2018. It was considered Denmark’s first documented record, although unverified reports exist from 1947, 1976 and 1997. Naturbasen

In Scotland, strandings have been recorded since at least the 1950s, with another mass event in the Clyde in 2002. Scottish Marine Atlas

The Sylt discovery is therefore regionally unusual, but it is part of a longer history of intermittent Velella transport into northern European waters.

Is this climate change?

Ocean warming may increase the probability that warm-water organisms survive and occur farther north, while winds and currents determine whether they reach Sylt in a particular year. Calling this one observation definitive proof of climate-driven range expansion would be premature. Equally, dismissing it as an irrelevant accident would ignore the wider pattern of warming seas and increasing biological movement into the North Sea.

This is exactly why systematic observations matter.

Historical absence from a database is not proof of ecological absence. It may reflect limited monitoring, failed identification or observations that were never preserved. The public can help close this gap. Photograph unusual strandline organisms, record the date and exact location, include a size reference, estimate their number and submit the observation to us (GoJelly/JellySpotter APP) or another biodiversity platform like the iNaturalist. Today’s carefully documented beach find may become tomorrow’s essential evidence of how marine distributions are changing.

Recommened for reading:

  1. Pires RFT, Cordeiro N, Dubert J, Marraccini A, Relvas P, dos Santos A (2018) Untangling Velella velella (Cnidaria: Anthoathecatae) transport: a citizen science and oceanographic approach. Mar Ecol Prog Ser 591:241-251 https://doi.org/10.3354/meps12266
  2. Betti, F., Bo, M., … Enrichetti, F. (2019). Massive strandings of Velella velella (Hydrozoa: Anthoathecata: Porpitidae) in the Ligurian Sea (North-western Mediterranean Sea). The European Zoological Journal86(1), 343–353. https://doi.org/10.1080/24750263.2019.1671506

Picture courtesy to https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:20160518_170717_Velella_velella_1.jpg

First Spotted, or Simply First Recorded? Velella and Our Ecological Blind Spots

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