The hunt for California's surfing otter

By Zaria GorvettFeatures correspondent@ZariaGorvett

The infamous surfboard-stealing sea otter of Monterey Bay is still on the run – but her strange behaviour is drawing attention to the many challenges this species faces.

At first it looks like she is up to her usual tricks again. A southern sea otter, with her thick, dark fur glistening with water – as though she has been dipped in tar – is floating along in the foamy waves off the coast of Santa Cruz, California. On a surfboard.

Like all beginner surfers, it took her a few attempts to hop aboard her craft. But now she's up, with her signature surfing gait, flopped across the board's width as you might ride a lilo. This is the notorious surfing pirate of Monterey Bay – sea otter 841, sometimes known as Laverna. For the past two years, but particularly the last six weeks, this swashbuckling buccaneer has achieved international infamy for her regular raids on humans, in which she steals their boards and cruises along on them.

Now law enforcement – well, the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, among others – are determined to bring 841 in. There's just one problem: despite numerous attempts and the involvement of five federal agencies, the unstoppable wheels of justice are apparently no match for this extraordinary mammal. The surfboard she steals in the latest video of her antics is actually a decoy – part of an elaborate plot to trick the sea otter into entering a net. With officials waiting nearby on a small fishing boat, and others lurking in the water, she plays along for a while – then gives them the slip. At the time of writing, California's most wanted ocean bandit is still at large.

But the captivating story of 841 is at odds with the challenges she may have faced in her short life so far – and the dramatic daily struggles of other sea otters in the wild. Though southern sea otter populations have rebounded from a historic low in the 1930s, their recovery has been tepid – and despite intensive conservation efforts, their geographic range in California is not getting any bigger. With vanishing kelp forests and a new influx of teenage great white sharks to contend with, they remain under threat. What's going on? And why can't sea otters catch a break?

Another kind of harassment

The first online reports of 841 approaching humans came in the summer of 2021, and by September of that year the US Fish and Wildlife Service had already intervened. Using a process called "hazing", they attempted to forge an association between people and unpleasant experiences – such as paddles slapping on water and loud noises – to deter future interactions. But its effects didn’t last, and by this summer, sea otter 841 had graduated to full-blown surfboard theft.

In July 2023, a video of the sea otter aggressively claiming a rainbow-coloured surfboard went viral, particularly because the human victim didn't give up, resulting in a thrilling tug-of-war (he was eventually victorious, though by then the board was already bite-mangled). Other photos of similar incidents began to surface, and 841 became an internet sensation. Her likeness can now be found on T-shirts, stickers, tote bags and mugs, as well as memes with slogans like "respect our existence or face resistance". It has also sparked a determined campaign against her capture and exile to a rescue facility – one petition, asking agencies to commit to her protection, has attracted over 67,000 signatures.

So far, it seems that 841 is perfectly capable of looking out for herself, at least in this regard. But the international attention California's sea otters have received over the last few months has not been entirely beneficial.

From the surface, Monterey Bay appears as a tranquil expanse of deep blue stretching from Santa Cruz in the northwest to the city of Monterey in the southeast. But beneath its choppy waves, it is one of the most biodiverse marine environments in the world – often referred to as the Serengeti of the seas. With hundreds of miles of coastline, thickets of swaying 50m (175ft) tall kelp fronds and a hidden underwater chasm that's up to 3.8km (2.3 miles) deep, the bay is home to many of the largest and most recognisable creatures in the ocean, including seals, sharks, dolphins, and whales.

However, the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary also attracts a correspondingly large number of tourists. And the habitats most beloved by visitors just so happen to be those that are inhabited by sea otters. This is the "nearshore", and it encompasses the shallow water around the coast, with its kelp forests, rocky pools, and estuaries – places where it's not uncommon to find kayakers, paddleboarders, surfers and divers navigating around the furry bodies of sea otters napping in characteristic style, with their little feet and arms in the air, while floating on their backs.

Since 841's fame began, the tables have turned, and much of the harassment is now in the other direction. One local photographer, who has been observing the sea otter from nearby cliffs, has reported some of the busiest conditions ever – with people attempting to get close to her every few minutes. The species needs a lot of personal space, and visitors are advised to stay at least 18m (60ft) away, equivalent to around five kayak-lengths. Now some are approaching 841 and others within arm's reach.

Even before the frenzy of interest in the sea otters at Monterey Bay, Gena Bentall – the director of the conservation charity Sea Otter Savvy – was studying the relationship between the animals and surfers. She told the Santa Cruz Sentinel newspaper she was "floored" by how much disturbance was going on.

These casual intrusions by humans can have a surprisingly disproportionate impact. The life of a sea otter is naturally energy-intensive, with each adult needing to eat around a fifth of its body weight in seafood each day in order to fuel its fastidious grooming habits, keep its body warm and forage for food. The time when they're at the surface should be relaxed, and there is little margin for diving away from interfering humans.

In fact, one otter directly affected by this latter phenomenon is 723 – sea otter 841's own mother. She was stranded as a pup and raised as part of the Monterey Bay Aquarium Sea Otter Programme, where she was tended to with extraordinary care by people in Darth Vader-like disguises – a tinted welding helmet and black cape – to avoid her associating humans with anything good, like food.

Like the hundreds of other sea otter pups they have rehabilitated, 723 was brushed until she resembled a tube of fluff with eyes – to emulate the grooming they need to stay waterproof – wrapped in fake kelp, to mimic the way they stay anchored at sea, and taught the behaviours she would need in the wild by an older sea otter, who acted as a surrogate for her lost parent. Then one day, she was released.

"And then, after she had been out in the wild for about nine months, we had multiple observations of people illegally feeding her, and [reports] that being fed had to led her to approaching people on the water – on kayaks, in particular," says Jess Fujii, the manager of the sea otter programme. Sea otter 723 was taken back into the care of the Monterey Bay Aquarium – where staff discovered she was pregnant. After rearing 841 herself, her daughter was finally released, and the whole cycle began all over again. It's not clear what initially led to 841's surfboard-stealing behaviour, but it's thought that it may have started with people feeding her.

But the consequences of a human presence near where sea otters live doesn't even require for them to get into the water. In recent decades, many sea otter strandings in California have been linked to Toxoplasma gondii – a parasite known for the strange ways it can alter its hosts' behaviour, and complex life cycle involving cats. It's often caught from exposure to cat faeces, and it's thought sea otters are exposed after periods of heavy rain, when soil – containing the poo from our pets – washes into the ocean. In the past, this has been suggested as one reason for sea otters' sluggish population growth.

Even in the vastness of Monterey Bay, sea otters can't escape human activity. However, there is also another threat – a reason they can't at least expand their range outwards into the ocean, away from the kelp beds, surfers and parasite-riddled runoff. And it comes with 300 teeth.

A lurking predator

Each year, as the summer winds down, Monterey Bay's usual occupants are joined by a wave of migrating great white sharks. They arrive in August and September, after spending most of the year in the mysterious Pacific abyss known as the "white shark café" – a nebulous zone of open ocean that extends from California to Hawaii. They're attracted back to the central coast by colonies of marine mammals, such as elephant seals, sea lions and small whales. But younger sharks will also eat smaller prey, including skates, rays – and occasionally, cute furry mammals. 

A close shave

After centuries of exploitation for their fur, by the early 20th Century southern sea otters were widely considered to be doomed – on the very brink extinction, if not there already. Then in March 1938, a couple reported something extraordinary: several hundred individuals hanging out at Bixby Creek Bridge, on the rugged Big Sur coast of California. Closer investigation revealed a small colony of 50, who had been protected from exploitation by the neighbourhood's crashing waves and large rocks. These were the last of their species – and every sea otter today is thought to be descended from them.     

Today there are an estimated 3,000 sea otters in California – a substantial rebound from their brush with extinction in the 1930s. However, California's sea otters are still some way off their historic population of between 18,000 and 20,000. They also only occupy 13% of their previous range – previously, it stretched from the central Pacific coast to the northern islands of Japan. But while their absolute numbers are increasing year-on-year, they are yet to reclaim their most of their old territory. Why? One idea is that it all comes down to a fresh influx of sharks – and vanishing kelp.

It's not thought that great white sharks are preying on sea otters intentionally – they are too small and fluffy to constitute a satisfying meal. But accidental shark attacks on these creatures are becoming more common, and they are often fatal. In 2016, scientists found that the proportion of stranded sea otters found with shark bites had increased dramatically since 2003 – and are now present on more than half the bodies found washed up. In the southern part of their range in California, in recent years there were eight times more shark bites than there were in the past.  

It's not clear why this is happening, but one idea is that it might be down to changes in the migratory habits of teenage sharks. Though most of the great white sharks off the coast of California are adults, on warmer years scientists have noticed that unprecedented numbers of younger individuals are also turning up. So, as the world's oceans are heated by climate change, sea otters may be appearing on the menu more often.

The issue is compounded by collapsing kelp forests, which are disappearing at an alarming rate. These precious ecosystems currently face a number of threats, including climate change, but the steepest phase of their decline began in 2013, when a mystery disease swept across the west coast of the US – wiping out sunflower sea stars. With golden bodies and an unreasonable number of legs (they typically have 16-24), these voracious predators stalk the seafloor in search of their favourite prey, sea urchins, who incidentally, feed on kelp.

But that year, their populations plummeted – and it didn't take long before their usual quarry reaped the benefits. By 2019, the sea urchin populations at some sites in Oregon had increased to 30 times their usual numbers. Meanwhile, swathes of the kelp forest in California were turned into "urchin barrens" – ocean deserts covered with a plague of their spiky purple bodies, and just a few scraggly stumps where towering columns of kelp would once have been. This was not good news for sea otters.

One 2018 study found that in areas with just 10% kelp cover at the surface, sea otter strandings due to shark bites were almost unheard of. In fact, the researchers concluded that the vanishing kelp may be a major limiting factor in the sea otters' recovery, by increasing the risk of shark attacks and limiting the dispersal of females, who rely on kelp forests to raise their young – wrapping them up in blankets of its fronds to stop them from being swept away.

Ironically, the more sea otters there are, the more kelp there is – this keystone species feasts on the plagues of sea urchins that have been destroying these rare underwater forests. This isn't just important for sea otters. Kelp habitats are home to 700 marine species, and have wider environmental benefits that stretch far beyond their boundaries – acting as carbon sinks and helping to combat ocean acidification. (Read more from Future Planet about how kelp can help solve climate change.)

However, Fujii is hopeful that one day, California's sea otters will be even more abundant. For one thing, scientists are racing to understand the complex reasons why the kelp is disappearing, and how to get it back. "It's a huge topic right now, there's a lot of interest," she says. 

But there's also evidence that the Monterey Bay Aquarium Sea Otter Programme is having a real impact. It has been astonishingly successful – and at the Elkhorn Slough estuary in Monterey Bay, more than 50% of the resident population is now directly descended from rescued and released individuals.

"We found that as they made that transition to the wild successfully, they went on to survive and reproduce just like their wild counterparts. So similar age animals, otters in the same area have similar survival rate. And so they're able to act just like a wild otter – contribute to population growth and contribute to the ecosystem services," says Fujii.  

And if you ever doubted the resilience of the humble sea otter, there's always 841. Based on the absence of updates about her capture, it seems she is lying low for a while – or trying to, anyway. In the most recent footage posted on Facebook by a local photographer, she is wrestling a seagull. Some habits die hard – but at least no surfboards were involved.

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