The Brief

Spotting a Mojave Desert tortoise is increasingly difficult in the American Southwest. The tortoises, with their unmistakable domed patterned shells, live in California, parts of Nevada, Arizona and northwestern Mexico. But they have lost habitat over the decades to encroaching development. They're also at risk from disease and climate change, all of which threaten their existence.

In four out of the five primary regions where Mojave Desert tortoises can be found, some estimates show that around 90% of tortoises have disappeared since 1984.

The California Department of Fish and Wildlife classified the Mojave Desert tortoise as threatened in 1989. A year later, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service listed the tortoise as threatened. But California has taken measures a step further this year by declaring the tortoise as endangered under the state's Endangered Species Act. That designation means the tortoises are likely to go extinct if they are not managed properly.

The state agency's spokesperson, Krysten Kellum, said in an email that the status change could increase the likelihood that state, federal and resource management agencies will prioritize and distribute more funds toward protection and recovery actions.

"The uplisting highlights the urgency of tortoise conservation needs," Kellum wrote.

A six-month-old Mojave Desert Tortoise is examined by wildlife biologist.

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Earlier this year, the Department of Government Efficiency, or DOGE, fired 420 USFW probationary staff. Nearly another 300 took the Trump administration's deferred resignation offer. The administration has also proposed cutting the budgets of the USFWS, the Bureau of Land Management, and the National Park Service. Those agencies are all tasked with managing endangered and threatened species on federal lands, including the desert tortoise.

Garrett Peterson, a spokesperson for the USFWS, said in an emailed statement that the agency remains committed to fulfilling the mission of conserving fish, wildlife, and natural resources for the American people. But the agency could "not comment on personnel matters or on Congressional deliberations regarding appropriations."

Kristina Drake used to lead the Desert Tortoise Recovery Office for the USFWS. She signed the administration's deferred resignation letter in the spring. Drake says she doesn't anticipate any additional federal funding to support the tortoise — a species that's survived in the desert for at least 15 million years.

Nonetheless, nonprofits like the Mojave Desert Land Trust, located in the town of Joshua Tree, and others remain steadfast in wanting to protect and preserve the desert tortoise and its habitat.

And on a warm early morning summer day, Patrick Emblidge and Clay Noss with the Mojave Desert Land Trust, are hopeful they can catch a glimpse of a desert tortoise. To do that, they're searching for holes that tortoises make, often called burrows, in a canyon near Joshua Tree, where the town's namesake tree flourishes near desert flora and grasses.

It's difficult to find a desert tortoise because they spend the majority of their time underground. And they are rare, explains Emblidge. "They're at serious risk of going extinct  and it's terribly unjust."

A desert tortoise crosses a road while cars drive in the opposite lane. There's no single thing that has contributed to the tortoise downturn. Vehicle collisions, habitat encroachment and climate change are among the many factors.

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'Death from a thousand cuts'

Since being listed as a threatened species more than 35 years ago, tortoise numbers have continued to dwindle. Ed LaRue, who's on the board of directors for the Desert Tortoise Council, a group that focuses on the species' survival, says it took five years for California to review data to move the tortoise from threatened to endangered earlier this year.

"The state's determination was in California, the tortoise is worse off now than it was when it was formally listed back in 1989," LaRue says. "So, even though there are a few places where you can go and see them, at a population level, they're still declining across the board."

That's despite the existence of five recovery areas for the Mojave Desert tortoise in the Southwest. They include the Upper Virgin River, Northeastern Mojave, Eastern Mojave, Western Mojave and Eastern Colorado.

There's no single issue that has contributed to the tortoise downturn, says Cameron Barrows, who studies deserts at the University of California, Riverside. He and many scientists describe the tortoises' decline as "death from a thousand cuts." That's because they face multiple threats, including off-road vehicles, predators, drought, and even military bases.

Then there's climate change.

" Climate change is one of those things, and it's not minor at all," Barrows says. "It's a very important aspect of what's going on with tortoises."

Human-caused climate change makes temperatures hotter and droughts last longer. Jeff Lovich, a retired scientist who researched tortoises at the U.S. Geological Survey for over 30 years, says higher temperatures contribute to the sex determination of tortoise hatchlings.

During California's long drought that lasted from 2012 to 2016, Lovich conducted a study that showed a big decline in female tortoises. That's because when female tortoises lay eggs, they lose water and protein. Drought exacerbates this, ultimately affecting the population's survival.

" The eggs are about the size of a ping pong ball," Lovich says. "If females are doing that during a drought, it's gonna put them in life-threatening situations, and we think we documented that with their high mortality during that epic drought."

Tortoises build between seven to 17 burrows underground per year. When they get tired of their burrow, they move to another area and dig a new spot.

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A keystone species

Some conservationists call tortoises "ecosystem engineers" because they build between seven to 17 burrows underground per year.

When tortoises tire of their burrow, they abandon them and relocate. Lovich says that's when other critters like snakes, birds and small mammals move in.

"If you took the tortoise away, you would take away that service that they provide for other species," he explains.

In the Mojave Desert, Emblidge and Noss study a burrow that's too big to be a tortoise's home. It's shaped like a half-moon – flat on the bottom and domed on the top – and sandwiched under a large boulder. They come to the same conclusion.

"Yeah, it's a tortoise burrow, it's just so big," Emblidge says. "It looks like it could have been modified by a fox or a coyote."

But losing the tortoise from the Mojave Desert would mean losing more than recycled burrows. The species' extinction could drastically change the landscape, says Emblidge.

"It would remove a keystone animal that is an indicator of ecosystem health," says Emblidge, who spent eight years studying tortoises at the USGS in the Southwest. "If tortoises are going extinct, we're doing something wrong and everything else is suffering as well."

Climate change makes temperatures hotter and droughts last longer. According to Jeff Lovich, a retired scientist, higher temperatures contribute to determining the sex of tortoise hatchlings.

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A 'tortoisey area'

In the Mojave Desert, Emblidge and Noss point out desert dandelion, devil's lettuce and other forage tortoises like to munch on. They hope that maybe the elusive desert tortoise will appear on this hot summer morning. After a short hike, Emblidge and Noss drop to their knees to look underneath a boulder. There, burrowed back into the dirt and camouflaged by the rock, is a tortoise with its big domed shell and stubby feet.

Emblidge and Noss climb higher up the rocks and spot another tortoise.

"This is a really tortoisey area," Noss says.

This one has a burrow in between two boulders where she's — yes, the tortoise is a female — buried deep, providing ample shade and protection from predators. Only her back shell and one leg are visible. "She's not very photogenic today," laughs Emblidge.

Emblidge and Noss say seeing two tortoises in one day is special because they're in serious danger of going extinct. "They are amazing animals when you get to know 'em," Noss says, "and they're doing what they can to survive out here. We're just not really giving them a chance."

But with additional federal funding for tortoise conservation unlikely, groups like the Mojave Desert Land Trust and the Desert Tortoise Council become more important, according to Drake, formerly with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. She says those groups will have to continue to "hold the line for a few years," for the sake of all endangered species and ecosystems.
Copyright 2025 NPR

Tracking sharks off the California coast is a full-time job. One program that does that is on the brink of losing its funding, even as they want to help track sharks during the 2028 Summer Olympics.

The Shark Lab at Cal State Long Beach recently announced a plea for private contributions to fund another year of research and data collection focused on keeping the public safe.

The plan leading up to the 2028 Summer Olympics is to create a tracking system specific enough to share real-time monitoring information with local lifeguards through state-of-the-art autonomous boat and drone technology.

“There are going to be Olympic events in Long Beach Harbor, down in San Clemente – there are white sharks in all those places,” said Chris Lowe, director of the Shark Lab, highlighting the importance of the tools not only for athletes, but for the public also visiting from all over the world.

“Lifeguards will be scrambling for monitoring data, and they won’t have it if we run out of money,” Lowe explained.

In 2019, the lab’s Shark Safety program began after it received nearly $4 million from the state to set up a research program to tag white sharks and use drones to monitor them from the air, while using new EDNA technology to measure their presence in the water.

“That money was scheduled to last 5 years; we made it last 6,” Lowe said. “Last year we tried to get state money back, but we were told ‘the budget’s too bad, we can’t fund you this year.’”

State Sen. Tony Strickland of Huntington Beach put in a request this year for $1.7 million in NOAA funding. “The funds requested for FY 2026–27 represents the immediate need to prevent program reductions as existing funding expires and to maintain continuity of operations,” said Strickland in his budget request. The lab’s annual operating budget is around $1 million, and the hope was that the extra funding could expand the program to Monterey Bay.

Since Strickland’s request was denied from this year’s budget, the lab’s funding is set to run out in September. Going a year without funding would be detrimental to the program’s support system, Lowe said. He says half of the budget goes toward the salaries and training of highly experienced and educated technicians, required to keep the program moving.

The lab monitors sharks up and down the California coastline.

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Roughly $700,000 worth of equipment is set up in the ocean, monitoring around 260 white sharks from Morro Bay to San Diego. “That’s a lot of money in the water that we have to constantly maintain and download… but it provides huge amounts of data, and we share that data with everybody,” said Lowe.

Lowe is also worried about the potential crisis local beaches may face in the event of an incident such as a shark bite, as the public may be dissuaded from visiting a beach following an incident.

Lowe sees education as a crucial way to mitigate that risk and raise awareness. The Shark Lab created summer outreach programs led by undergraduate students that visit beaches along the coast, teaching beach safety surrounding marine life and risks like rip currents.

“We’ve teamed up with psychologists to look at people’s perceptions, and we’ve teamed up with an economist to look at what those costs really are,” Lowe explained.

“These are all projects with the goal of keeping both people and sharks safe,” Lowe said. “We just need help. We need financial help.”

This article was originally published by the Long Beach Post, an LAist partner newsroom.

Voters in Orange will decide in November if the city should become a charter city.

The City Council approved 4-3 at its July 14 meeting to bring the question to voters. Councilmembers Arianna Barrios, Ana Gutierrez and John Gyllenhammer opposed the measure.

Orange is currently a general law city, which means it’s bound by state law and mandates. Charter cities still have to follow state law, but can establish their own rules on issues such as mayoral authority, term limits and financial management. Each charter city varies in how they establish those rules. (Read more about the nuts-and-bolts of Orange’s proposed charter city below.)

In California, 121 cities have adopted charters, including Los Angeles, Santa Ana and Huntington Beach. Other cities, including Fullerton, have also discussed adopting a city charter.

Why this matters 

Supporters of the ballot measure have said that a city charter will give Orange more control over city planning, contracting and revenue. The city is facing a budget deficit and largely lacks the revenue to sustain operations, according to consultants.

Last year, consultants warned Orange officials that if big changes aren’t made, the city could go bankrupt by 2029.

Councilmember Kathy Tavoularis introduced the charter idea earlier this year, saying the move could help the city face its financial problems.

“If you talk to people from other charter cities, Anaheim included, they'll tell you the benefits that they have from it,” Tavoularis said. “I will respect what the voters say. It's just an option, and I want to keep giving the voters options.”

Is a charter really the solution to Orange’s problems? 

The answer might not be straightforward. Jodi Balma, a political science professor at Fullerton College, told LAist that the charter can help with finances, but it all boils down to how it's written.

“The idea that being a charter city absolves you of all state regulation is not true,” Balma said. “How does a charter city change the finances? That depends what's in the charter. But cities get their revenue from taxes. The charter itself does not magically give the money.”

Voters can amend the charter later, she added.

“Residents can put charter amendments on the ballot,” Balma said. “Some of the cities have done good governance charter amendments, or written it in to begin with, and other cities have used that power to block the public out.”

For a city to adopt a charter, it requires a majority approval from voters. Adopting a charter alone will not cost the city, but placing the measure on the ballot will incur a cost.

What do opposing council members say? 

Other council members questioned the timing of the ballot measure and whether the city was moving too fast on the idea.

“My actual issue about not voting for this right now has to do with the timing against the other things we've brought forward,” Barrios said. “I don't think it's a bad idea. I think we need more time to get there.”

Councilmember Guttierez also said the charter item could have been tabled to prioritize more pressing city issues.

“I'd be happy to discuss this in the future after we get ourselves out of this structural deficit that we have,” Guttierez said.

What would the city’s proposed charter do?

Here are some highlights of what the 10-page proposed charter would accomplish: 

Fiscal responsibility: The proposed ordinance includes several rules concerning finances. For example, the city is required to adopt a balanced budget. An annual independent audit to be presented to the City Council would also be required under the ordinance. When deciding where to use general funds, repairing public infrastructure, replenishing reserves and reducing outstanding debt are among the city’s top priorities, per the charter.

Term limits: The ordinance governs all manner of elections, district boundaries, term limits and qualifications. For example, a resident must reside in Orange for 30 days or more to qualify to run for office. And no person can serve as mayor for more than two four-year terms in a lifetime. Also, no person can serve as a city council member for more than three four-year terms in a lifetime.

Open space reserve: A unique section in the proposed charter ensures the preservation of parks, wildlife habitat and other natural resources. The designated areas would be restricted to certain uses like recreation and park use.

You can read the full proposed charter here.

SAULT STE. MARIE, Mich. — The idea came to Danielle Boyer in a toy store. The inspiration? It was Tickle Me Elmo.

"Whenever you'd press his belly, he would talk, and he would teach you things," she said. "There are toys that teach us in English, but there aren't toys that teach us Anishinaabemowin. And I wanted that to be different."

Anishinaabemowin includes the Potawatomi, Odawa and Ojibwe languages. Exact estimates vary, but there are fewer than 10,000 people in the U.S. who speak Anishinaabemowin. That number is around 25,000 in Canada. Some Native languages have just a few dozen fluent speakers, while others have none.

Boyer has seen how quickly language loss can happen. Her grandmother speaks Anishinaabemowin, but she is one of the last fluent speakers of their dialect.

"It is devastating to feel like your language could be lost," said Boyer, a member of the Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians. "You lose your culture, you lose a way to describe who you are."

U.S. Indian boarding schools played a major role in the loss of Indigenous languages. Children separated from their families were taught, sometimes violently, not to speak their native tongues, and many did not pass them on to their children.

Today, some Native youth are learning their languages in schools. But Boyer said many of them still aren't invested. "They see it as another homework assignment."

Boyer and Hoy work on some last-minute adjustments to his AI-powered SkoBot before presenting at his school's end-of-year showcase, called the STEAM Museum.

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That's why she invented the SkoBot. It's a customizable toy robot designed to get Indigenous children excited to learn their languages.

"I can say 'Hey SkoBot, what is bear?' And it will say, 'Bear is makwa, makwa,' and it'll repeat it, right? So I can say, 'What is crane?' It'll say, 'Crane is ajijaak, ajijaak.'"

SkoBots use a form of artificial intelligence to speak Indigenous languages, and they're small enough to mount on the user's shoulder. They sort of resemble mini R2-D2 droids, from Star Wars, except these robots are designed to look like woodland creatures and decorated in Native American florals.

Through a nonprofit she started when she was 18, Boyer, now 25, has mentored hundreds of Native American children across the country, teaching them to build SkoBots of their own. One of them is 12-year-old Holden Hoy in Michigan's Upper Peninsula.

"I was already a big fan of robotics and how they work, how you can bring inanimate objects to life," he said. "And I'm Ojibwe, and so I've always wanted to save the Ojibwe language."

Hoy, a rising seventh-grader, showed off his design at an end-of-the-year science fair at his school, JKL Bahweting Anishinaabe School in Sault Ste. Marie. Like Boyer, he is a member of the Sault Tribe.

He programmed his SkoBot to answer three questions ahead of his presentation. One of them was, "What's your name," to which the robot would respond in Hoy's voice: "Aaniin, Hello. Sabe indizhinikaaz, Bahweting indoonjibaa. I was built by Holden Hoy. I will not gain sentience and take over the world. Or will I?"

Hoy named his SkoBot Sabe, which means Bigfoot in Anishinaabemowin. In Ojibwe culture, Bigfoot represents honesty, one of seven sacred teachings.

His classmates and their parents stopped by his booth to see Sabe in action. Boyer was there too, helping Hoy with his presentation.

"I'm very happy that people are actually coming to this booth," Hoy said. "I'm happy that they are learning things, and I'm really happy that I'm part of the Ojibwe."

Sabe has one eye, a sensor that detects movement and lets it know to start listening.

Hoy's Sabe, or Bigfoot, SkoBot on display (right), alongside three other SkoBots that Boyer brought with her to show off at the STEAM Museum. Each represents a specific animal: a wolf, turtle and bear. Hoy's SkoBot is 3D printed in light gray, and its face is adorned with a footprint surrounded by floral designs.

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"Basically, when it hears that one trigger word, it then plays a prerecorded audio file. So there isn't synthetic speech, there isn't any generative AI," said Boyer. "It's simply listening to what you're saying, identifying it and playing [audio files] that already exist."

That means the SkoBots will never make things up, often called AI hallucinations. Hoy said it's important not to use generative AI. "AI tends to falsify things a lot, not get things from trustworthy sources."

Boyer's goal isn't to replace interactions with real language speakers. Instead, it's to get kids interested in not only their languages, but in subjects like science, math and engineering as well. That includes getting them to think about how to use AI ethically.

"Artificial intelligence, especially when it's not created by Indigenous people, stands to do a lot of harm to our communities," she said. "When you are putting accurate information into these models … you're giving away sacred information to companies that don't have our best interests at heart."

And as chatbots have become more popular, Boyer said some people have turned to them to help them learn their languages. She's even seen large language models like ChatGPT invent fake words in Anishinaabemowin, which she said is dangerous. "If we're not learning our language correctly, we shouldn't learn it at all."

Jocelyn Hoy is Holden's mom. She's excited that her son is not only exposed to their culture, but he's eager to know more. She said he's even been teaching her new things.

"As someone who, at a time in my life, did not want to be identified as Native American … now as an adult, I cannot wait to learn more, and I think the SkoBots are going to help me and so many kids — so many people in general — learn their heritage and who they are."

Holden Hoy said that heritage and the language are inseparable: "The language is the culture!"

He added, "It is important to protect it, because it's some people's way of life. Generation after generation is based around this culture."

Edited by: Steve Drummond and Lauren Migaki
Visual design and development by: LA Johnson
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