Jackie’s oldest son, Raphael, in Monterey Park on Sept. 29, 2023. Raphael saw and experienced the domestic violence in his mother’s relationship when he was a young teenager. Raphael is now in college and plans to work towards being a dermatologist. His mother, Jackie, is a family advocate for Los Angeles Defense Lawyers, helping families navigate the system.
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Alisha Jucevic
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CalMatters
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Topline:
California’s "failure to protect" law allows child welfare agencies to take kids from households scarred by domestic violence. Advocates say the separation can worsen a family’s trauma.
The backstory: The longstanding practice is facing continued scrutiny as domestic violence advocates raise concerns about the potential to further traumatize families. Meanwhile, other states with similar laws have narrowed the criteria for when a welfare agency can remove a child. Many states have “failure to protect” laws, but California’s is comparably vague, giving social workers wide latitude in deciding when to remove kids.
Read more ... for the perspective of moms who've had to experience the process.
Worried that her abusive partner would kill her or her boys, Jackie had nowhere to go and no one to ask for help. She said her partner had angry outbursts, beat her, degraded her and destroyed things in the house. She knew she had to escape.
She called the Los Angeles County Department of Children and Family Services, hoping for a path to a safe place to stay. Instead, she received a warning that struck a different kind of fear in her.
If she didn’t leave her partner within 30 days, the child welfare agency would take her four boys.
“When I asked for help, they wanted to separate us,” said Jackie, 39, who asked not to use her full name to protect her children’s privacy.
The agency’s warning is rooted in a nearly 40-year-old California law that allows child welfare agencies to remove children when they believe an abused parent cannot ensure their kids’ safety. Called “failure to protect,” the law is intended to safeguard kids in dangerous situations.
But the longstanding practice is facing continued scrutiny as domestic violence advocates raise concerns about the potential to further traumatize families. Meanwhile, other states with similar laws have narrowed the criteria for when a welfare agency can remove a child. Many states have “failure to protect” laws, but California’s is comparably vague, giving social workers wide latitude in deciding when to remove kids.
“I just don’t understand how ‘failure to protect’ exists, either as a fair thing or a legal principle,” said Eve Sheedy, a lawyer and expert in domestic violence policy, including as former director of LA County Domestic Violence Council.
The law puts child welfare workers in the unenviable position of deciding what is more harmful for children — the trauma of being separated from their family or the risks of witnessing more violence or even becoming a target.
And it can leave domestic violence victims feeling as if they are being punished for their partners’ abuse.
“Right now the victims are seen just like a perpetrator,” said Marie, 36, a domestic violence survivor who said the Los Angeles child welfare agency took her children from her after she was abused by her partner. The kids continue to live with their grandparents. Marie also spoke on the condition that her full name would not be published to protect the privacy of her kids.
Changing the law is difficult in part because lawmakers and social workers share a commitment to protecting children, and they worry about a shift that could endanger kids.
CalMatters spoke with four mothers who lost children because of a failure to protect order, five current and former social workers, eight domestic violence policy experts and advocates and two state lawmakers for this story.
All of them stressed that protecting children was their highest priority. Several cited two notorious murders in Los Angeles County where the welfare agency failed to remove children to underscore the hazards of allowing kids to remain in violent households. One was Gabriel Fernandez, who suffered years of gruesome torture and abuse before he was fatally beaten at age 8 in 2013 by his mother and her boyfriend. The other was Anthony Avalos, who was also tortured and abused by his mother and her boyfriend before his death at age 10 in 2018.
“In my opinion, the system really did fail those kids,” said Assemblyman Tom Lackey, a Palmdale Republican who has been a teacher and a California Highway Patrol officer.
He said he has dealt more with children who should’ve been removed from unsafe situations than with unnecessary separations from abused parents for “failure to protect.” .
No one can say how many California children are separated from family members every year under the law because neither the state nor counties collect that information. The closest estimate comes from a recent report by the UCLA Pritzker Center that showed more than half of Los Angeles County’s 38,618 foster care cases in 2020 involved domestic violence.
Jackie, the mother who was alarmed when she received a “failure to protect” warning six years ago, believes the law discourages women from reporting domestic violence.
“A lot of women don’t say anything because of fear of being separated from their kids,” she said.
Separation after abuse, drug use
Marie is soft-spoken with sparkling eyes and a gentle manner. She said as a teenager she got hooked on prescription opioids and was addicted for years. She stopped using in 2015, and within a little more than a year she graduated from college, got married and had two babies.
“It was all too much, and I started using again,” Marie said.
Marie said her ex-husband was also addicted to drugs and when he was using, he physically abused her.
First: Marie at her home in Culver City on Sept. 29, 2023. Marie lived at Community’s Child after leaving a domestic violence relationship and battling past addictions. She now owns her home and has built a new life for herself and her children. Last: Marie holds a card from one of her kids at her home in Culver City. The card reads, “Thank you for being a very good mom. You been thru [sic] a lot but you are still the beast [sic] mom in the world.”
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Alisha Jucevic
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CalMatters
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The Department of Children and Family Services removed Marie’s kids for failure to protect due to domestic violence and substance abuse. At ages 1 and 2, the kids had about a one-week stay in a group home. The children were adopted by Marie’s parents within six months of opening her case. Adoption typically takes a year or more.
She pulled herself out of addiction after she became pregnant again and didn’t want to lose custody of a third child. She entered a substance abuse program in 2017. Next, she and her 2-month-old infant entered Community’s Child, a shelter and development program for homeless single mothers “motivated to achieve self-sufficiency.” Marie now owns her own home and works full-time in the medical field.
She and her ex-husband have made peace and co-parent all three children, though the two older kids still live with Marie’s parents. Marie said the kids were very young during the violence and don’t remember it, but she is still traumatized by the separation.
“I wasn’t able to heal in the six months that they gave me,” Marie said. “My family would’ve been a lot different if we had more time.”
Marie’s circumstances are not unusual. One-quarter to one-half of domestic violence cases occur with other problems, such as parental substance abuse or mental illness, intergenerational trauma or unemployment, among other stressors.
Her story illustrates the difficult choices social workers face every day.
Risk of staying and the risk of removal
The Los Angeles Department of Children and Family Services is the largest child welfare agency in the world, with a budget of nearly $2.8 billion and oversight of more than 25,000 children annually. In 2022, 90% of the kids were 18 and younger and more than two-thirds were Black or Hispanic.
If a social worker makes the wrong call children can pay the price with their health or their lives.
Two former child welfare social workers said they felt supported by their agency, but deciding when a child was at risk of harm felt like their responsibility, which was difficult and emotionally exhausting.
“Child welfare is a judgment-based system. It is human-driven and based upon sticky, personal family dynamic facts,” said Brandon Nichols, director of the Department of Children and Family Services, Los Angeles County’s child protection agency..
Dr. Kelly Callahan, director of the Kids In the Dependency System clinic at Harbor-UCLA Medical Center, said children who witness domestic violence often have psychological or emotional problems.
“Children who have witnessed violence between their caretakers can have PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), nightmares, sleep problems, school difficulties and more. They react the same way as children who have been abused,” said Callahan.
Because of such harm, proponents of “failure to protect” laws say they’re needed for children’s safety.
The library and counseling room at Community’s Child in Lomita on Sept. 29, 2023. Community’s Child is a shelter and resource program that provides supplies, food and housing for women and infants who are struggling with homelessness, addiction and poverty.
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Alisha Jucevic
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CalMatters
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But separation from a parent can be equally devastating for children. Adverse childhood experiences, such as abuse or witnessing violence, contribute to poor mental and physical health well into adulthood, including risk for early death. A safe, secure relationship with a caring adult, such as the non-offending parent, can build resiliency for a traumatized child.
“The courts will often say, ‘We know that being exposed to violence in the home alters a child’s brain chemistry and we’re going to remove this child and place them in foster care,” said Emily Berger, a lawyer for Los Angeles Dependency Lawyers, a nonprofit consortium of court-appointed lawyers who defend parents involved in dependency court.
“But what we’ve found, and science backs up, is that being removed from your community, your family of origin and your primary caregiver has such a tremendous impact upon a child’s healthy brain development and ability to form attachments,” she said.
Evolution of ‘failure to protect’
The original “failure-to-protect” laws emerged in the 1960s in response to reports of child physical abuse. Under the laws, if a caregiver knew a child was being abused and didn’t report it, that caregiver could be prosecuted the same as the abuser.
California’s failure to protect law falls under a welfare code that states children can become dependents of the court if “the child has suffered or there is a substantial risk that the child will suffer, serious physical harm inflicted non-accidentally upon the child by the child’s parent or guardian.”
Listed among the criteria for substantial risk is “the failure or inability of the child’s parent or guardian to adequately supervise or protect the child.”
Neglect is the leading cause for children to be placed under the courts’ jurisdiction. Failure to protect is often considered as neglect or emotional abuse in the child welfare and justice systems, including when it’s related to domestic violence.
As of 2015, 48 states and four U.S. territories had “failure to protect” laws: Maryland, Wyoming and Puerto Rico did not. The statutes designate the crimes as misdemeanors, or felonies. In California, neglect is usually charged as a misdemeanor.
Failure to protect charges can lead to life sentences for parents in six states — Oklahoma, Missouri, Nebraska, Nevada, South Carolina and West Virginia. In Texas, the maximum penalty is 99 years. For some non-offending parents, the penalties have been more severe than for the abuser.
Some states, such as New York and Washington, have moved in the opposite direction to protect the rights of abuse victims. The New York Court of Appeals in 2004 ruled that witnessing domestic violence did not constitute neglect and couldn’t be the sole basis for removing children from the non-offending parent.
State Sen. Susan Rubio, a Democrat from West Covina, two years ago carried a bill that would have compelled California to study domestic violence in the child welfare system. She told her colleagues at the time the law “fails to recognize” the trauma of a parent “who is a domestic violence survivor.” The bill did not reach Gov. Gavin Newsom.
Would changing domestic violence law matter?
Despite Rubio’s setback, some advocates for domestic violence victims outside of the Capitol are building a case to change California’s law.
The Pritzker Center report calls for California to consider legislative reforms similar to the ruling from the New York Court of Appeals. The report also calls for better training in the complexities of family violence for all child welfare workers, court officers and such mandated reporters as teachers and coaches.
“I think we could have legislation that said being victimized by domestic violence is not sufficient basis for charging neglect,” said Sheedy, the former director of LA County Domestic Violence Council.
This would be similar to California laws prohibiting the use of poverty or homelessness as the sole basis for removal of a child.
But others are urging more modest changes even as they express misgivings with the current policy. They worry about rescinding a policy intended to protect a child.
“There are definite concerns with ‘failure to protect’ and how it’s being used — it’s being used as a stick,” said Julie McCormick, a lawyer with the Children’s Law Center, a nonprofit legal organization that represents children in the dependency system.
But, she said, “I wouldn’t say CLC (Children’s Law Center) has the stance that it should be gone. It’s too nuanced to do something blanket. I think that’s why it’s so hard to come up with legislation.”
The California Partnership to End Domestic Violence also has looked at the failure to protect law. It isn’t calling for significant changes.
“It’s an issue we’ve tried to look at a couple of ways, but what makes sense statewide is tricky,” said Krista Colon, the partnership’s director.
Ending generations of domestic violence
Jackie, the mother of four boys who was frightened by the warning that she could lose her kids, became an advocate for domestic violence victims after her experience. She is now a parent-partner with the Los Angeles Defense Lawyers and helps other parents navigate the system.
Her sons are now 18, 13, 12 and 7. She is stylish and engaging with a ready smile, but she harbors deep trauma. She lived with an abusive partner, the father of her three younger boys, for 10 years.
Jackie at her office in Monterey Park on Sept. 29, 2023. Jackie is a domestic violence survivor and is now a family advocate for Los Angeles Defense Lawyers.
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Alisha Jucevic
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CalMatters
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“At first he was the perfect guy,” said Jackie, “Then I moved in with him and little things started happening, like yelling and pushing me.”
She grew up with domestic violence in a large, multi-generational Latino household. When her ex-partner became abusive, she thought it was normal. Her grandmother told Jackie she had “to stay. Hispanic men are just like that.”
Raphael, Jackie’s oldest son, said he remembers being afraid during the fighting, but as the big brother he had to be strong to protect his siblings.
Jackie called 12 shelters before she found one that would take her and her sons. Most shelters don’t accept boys older than 8. Raphael was 11, so he went to live with his biological father.
“My dad told me my mom and my brothers were in the shelter. I didn’t know what that meant, and it really scared me,” Raphael said, “It was really tough because I missed my brothers.”
Although the boys weren’t taken, child welfare’s threat to do so was devastating.
“It was drastic and traumatizing,” said Jackie.
Yet, she said, calling child welfare saved her life.
“When I was living through it, I thought I was doing what I needed to do to protect my kids,” said Jackie.
Most abused mothers do.
This article was produced as a project for the USC Annenberg Center for HealthJournalism’s 2023 Domestic Violence Impact Fund
Fiona Ng
is LAist's deputy managing editor and leads a team of reporters who explore food, culture, history, events and more.
Published March 1, 2026 7:39 AM
A man raises the historical Iranian Lion and Sun flag during a rally in the Westwood neighborhood on Saturday.
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Genaro Molina
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Los Angeles Times via Getty Images
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Topline:
Angelenos took to the streets of downtown Los Angeles and Westwood on Saturday in response to the U.S.-Israeli military strikes in Iran.
Details: Local demonstrations protesting U.S. intervention took place outside City Hall in downtown Los Angeles, as well as in Ventura and Orange counties. In Westwood, Iranian Americans gathered to celebrate the strikes. More demonstrations are planned for today and tomorrow.
Read on to see photos from Saturday's demonstrations.
Angelenos took to the streets of downtown Los Angeles and Westwood on Saturday in response to the U.S.-Israeli military strikes in Iran.
A coalition of organizations, including the National Iranian American Council, the ANSWER coalition and 50501, held protests nationwide in reaction.
Local demonstrations took place outside City Hall in downtown Los Angeles, as well as in Ventura and Orange counties.
In Westwood, Iranian Americans gathered to celebrate the strikes. More demonstrations are planned for today and tomorrow.
Here are photos from Saturday.
Westwood
Hundreds rally seeking regime change in Iran in Westwood on Saturday, Feb. 28, 2026, in Los Angeles. The rally was organized after word spread that the U.S. and Israel had bombed Iran overnight, Pacific time, killing Iran's Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, among others.
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Genaro Molina
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/Los Angeles Times via Getty Image
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Hundreds rally waving the historical Iranian Lion and Sun and American flags in Westwood on Saturday.
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Genaro Molina
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Los Angeles Times
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Hundreds rally in Westwood seeking regime change in Iran.
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Genaro Molina
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Los Angeles Times via Getty Image
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A man walks under the colors if Iran while joining hundreds in a rally seeking regime change in Iran in Westwood on Saturday.
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Genaro Molina
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Los Angeles Times via Getty Image
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Downtown Los Angeles
A protester holds a poster reading "drop the files not the bombs" during a demonstration against the war in Iran in front of City Hall in Los Angeles on Feb. 28, 2026.
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Etienne Laurent
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AFP via Getty Images
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A crowd gathered at Los Angeles City Hall to protest against United States and Israel bombing Iran on Saturday, Feb. 28, 2026.
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Myung J. Chun
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Los Angeles Times via Getty Images
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A protester holds a portrait of Iran's supreme leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei and a flag of Iran during a demonstration against the war in Iran in front of City Hall.
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Etienne Laurent
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AFP via Getty Images
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Protesters hold placards reading "no new US war in the Middle East" during a demonstration against the war in Iran in front of City Hall.
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Etienne Laurent
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AFP via Getty Images
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A man holds a sign at Los Angeles City Hall to protest against United States and Israel bombing Iran.
Josie Huang
is a reporter and Weekend Edition host who spotlights the people and places at the heart of our region.
Published March 1, 2026 6:08 AM
L.A. street artist S.C. Mero stands next to her latest installation in the Arts District, a utility box theater.
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Courtesy of S.C. Mero
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Topline:
Utility boxes are a popular canvas for public art, but a Los Angeles street artist has taken the idea further — transforming one into a miniature theater.
Why now: Since S.C. Mero installed the box theater just a few weeks ago, dozens of performers have already reached out and begun using the space, ranging from poets to musicians and clowns.
The backstory: Mero often transforms overlooked street fixtures into pieces about urban life. A previous installation at the same corner — an oversized mailbox symbolizing the elusiveness of homeownership — stood for about five years.
Walk through cities around the world and it's easy to spot the trend: utility boxes painted and transformed into public art to spiff up neighborhoods.
In downtown Los Angeles, street artist S.C. Mero has taken the idea of the utility box as art in a different direction with one she’s installed in the Arts District.
“Would you like me to open it up and you can see?” she asked on a recent morning.
At first glance, it looks like an ordinary electrical cabinet — gray, about the size of a refrigerator, with slotted vents. But instead of the usual fire-resistant metal, this one is made of wood with a faux concrete base.
The box theater incognito.
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Courtesy of S.C. Mero
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Mero spins two combination locks and pulls open the door.
A hidden theater
Inside, instead of a tangle of cables and cords, red crushed velvet covers the walls from top to bottom.
A gilded clock and gold-framed pictures of two other electrical boxes (“possibly its mother, and its great-grandfather”) adorn the tiny interior, inspired by one of downtown’s oldest and grandest movie palaces, the Los Angeles Theatre.
“The first time I went into that theater, the feeling that I had, I wanted people to have a similar feeling when they opened this up,” she said.
Like the theater, the box is meant to bring audiences together. Mero invites performers to step inside, and since its installation a few weeks ago, some 30 poets, magicians, puppeteers and clowns have reached out about using the space.
Many are female artists.
“Maybe it's because of the scale of it, they feel like they can actually have a chance to get inside,” Mero said.
A tradition of unexpected art
The box theater sits on the 800 block of Traction Avenue, across the street from the historic American Hotel, an early hub for artists in the neighborhood.
Jesse Easter, the hotel’s night manager, has a front-row seat to the box theater performances.
“The Arts District is still alive,” he proclaims.
Easter first arrived in the neighborhood in the 1980s, a blues and rock musician who also professionally installed art.
He said the Arts District has long been known for unconventional public art. Famously, in 1982, artist Dustin Shuler pinned a Cessna airplane to the side of the American Hotel with a 20-foot-long nail.
“I was one of the people that was in the hotel that saw the room that the nail came down into, went through the brick wall, into the floor and stopped,” Easter recalls.
Easter says Mero’s installations boldly continue that tradition of guerrilla street art in the neighborhood.
After graduating from USC in 2011, she started to make sculptural works with overlooked street fixtures, exploring issues such as addiction and homelessness.
Before the box theater, there was a giant mailbox.
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Courtesy of S.C. Mero
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Before the theater box, Mero installed an oversized mailbox at the same corner, towering over passersby, symbolizing a housing market that remains out of reach for many Angelenos.
Elsewhere in the Arts District on Rose Street, she has installed a 13-foot-tall parking meter sculpture, commentary on the overwhelming nature of parking in the city.
Realizing a dream
The box theater is perhaps the piece that has invited the most participation.
Jesse Easter, a musician and night manager at the American Hotel, prepares to perform at the box theater.
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Courtesy of S.C. Mero
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Last week, Mero asked Easter and other local artists to perform there. He played a blues song he wrote more than 40 years ago when he first moved to the Arts District.
“It was sunset, and I was thinking, this kind of is the bookend,” he said.
Other participants performed spoken word poetry and played saxophone.
One performer, Mike Cuevas, discovered the theater by accident.
An Uber driver, Cuevas was waiting for his next delivery order by the box theater as it was being prepped ahead of the night’s performance.
Mero recalls him getting out of his car to look at what she was doing.
“He's like, what's going on here? This looks so cool,” Mero said. “He said as he's driving throughout the city, in between his rides, he writes poetry.”
Cuevas, who goes by the pen name Octane 543(12), left to make a delivery in East L.A., but he said “something in his heart” told him to return that evening.
After watching others perform, he stepped up to the box and read his poetry in public for the first time, a piece about Latino pride.
Mike Cuevas, aka Mike Octane 543-12, publicly reads his poetry for the first time.
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Courtesy of S.C. Mero
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“Another generation will pass through,” he recited. “And they'll understand why we honor with proud delight, the continuous fight for the history of our brothers and sisters.”
Cuevas didn’t know Mero by name or anything about her work, but thanked her for giving him a venue.
“I just felt something beautiful with her art,” Cuevas said. “It's time for me to start expressing myself. She inspired me to do exactly what she's doing, but through poetry.”
He now plans to read again at an open mic in downtown L.A. next week.
An overture to look inside
Mero says the project has spoken to her personally, too. Growing up in Minnesota, she loved art as a child but later focused on playing lacrosse and hockey. At USC, she studied public relations.
“Once I started getting so into art, everyone was kind of shocked,” Mero said. “That's why I really want to encourage people to go inside themselves and see what's there, because you never know.”
Mero is hoping for a long run for the box theater. Its predecessor, the supersize mailbox, stayed up for five years, only toppled, she heard, after skateboarders accidentally ran into it.
In the meantime, the small theater sits unassumingly on the sidewalk waiting for its next performer, its exterior starting to collect graffiti like any other utility box.
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A Super Blue Blood Moon hovers over Los Angeles in 2018.
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FREDERIC J. BROWN/AFP via Getty Images
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AFP
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Topline:
A total lunar eclipse is happening this Tuesday. That's when the earth will move directly between the sun and moon, casting a “blood” red color onto the moon.
What: It's going to be the first lunar eclipse of the year. The process is slated to start around midnight and last until dawn on Tuesday. It’s called the “Blood Moon” because of the red hue the earth’s atmosphere refracts onto the lunar surface as light from the sun passes through it.
When: Although the eclipse begins around midnight, it won’t reach totality until 3:04 a.m., at which point it will be visible to the naked eye for about an hour. All of Southern California should be able to see it.
How else can I watch: The Griffith Observatory will be hosting a live virtual broadcast of the celestial event from midnight to dawn.
What's next: This isn’t the only lunar eclipse happening this year, but it is the only “total eclipse,” according to NASA. Another one is set to occur in August, but it will only be partially visible in North America. A solar eclipse will occur Aug. 12.
An adult gray whale and its calf approach tourists.
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Courtesy José Eugenio Gómez Rodríguez
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Topline:
With warm — relative to Alaska — spring waters, migratory rest-stops and great feeding grounds, Los Angeles County’s coast is considered part of the “Blue Highway,” a crucial whale migration corridor and one of the best places to spot the gentle giants.
What might you see? Cetacean species you may spot in our waters include humpback whales, orcas, blue whales and dolphins. Your best chance, however, is spotting a gray whale. As school-bus-sized gray whales migrate back and forth between Alaska and Baja, they consistently hug LA’s coastline.
Read on ... for tips on where and how to spot whales near you.
It’s whale watching season, which always makes me think of the novel Moby-Dick.
In the book, Captain Ahab chased a whale for vengeance. I recently chased whales off the coast of Los Angeles, but in my case, it was in pursuit of the beauty and majesty of the natural world.
With warm — relative to Alaska — spring waters, migratory rest-stops and great feeding grounds, Los Angeles County’s coast is considered part of the “Blue Highway,” a crucial whale migration corridor and one of the best places to spot the gentle giants.
According to Cabrillo Marine Aquarium program director Jim DiPompei, many whales can be seen right in our backyard.
“There’s a little over 90 species of cetaceans (marine mammals) in the world, and we see about 30% of the species we could possibly see here in Southern California,” DiPompei told The LA Local.
Cetacean species you may spot in our waters include humpback whales, orcas, blue whales and dolphins. Your best chance, however, is spotting a gray whale. As school bus-sized gray whales migrate back and forth between Alaska and Baja, they consistently hug LA’s coastline.
But where should you go to actually get a good look at whales? Don’t worry — I got you. Here’s The LA Local guide to cruising the Blue Highway.
Top spots to watch whales from shore
Point Vicente Interpretive Center 31501 Palos Verdes Drive West, Rancho Palos Verdes Free, laid-back, on the mountains!
At the Point Vicente Interpretive Center in Rancho Palos Verdes, you’ll find an overlook dedicated to whale watching. While this is a great free spot for amateurs to come and look out for whales, this is no playground. Professionals conduct the annual whale census here, tracking the migration of whales.
This is a great place to bring a picnic basket and some binoculars to relax while scanning the ocean. Even if you don’t spot any whale action, you can visit the free natural history museum inside, which focuses on the region and its most famous inhabitants: whales. Afterward, step outside and chat with a museum docent accompanying the census watch.
If you want to see whales, stick to the coastal canyons. Canyons aren’t just massive structures above water — they are also mountains beneath the surface, offering depth, cold water and nutrients that attract food for whales. Gray whales tend to follow the canyons to stay away from the dangerous orcas.
Whale spotting 101
Whale watching season typically runs from December through May. It peaks from January to March.
When looking for a whale, try to spot their water mist blowing above the water. Gray whales typically surface for air every five minutes. When they do, they’ll blow out a water mist — that’s your chance to spot and track them until they surface again.
Get on a boat!
If you want to get eye-to-eye and really feel a cetacean’s scale, there are plenty of whale-watching cruises. They typically depart from Marina Del Rey, Redondo Beach, Long Beach, San Pedro, Dana Point and almost anywhere with a port.
Many cruises have a naturalist on board to answer questions and provide expert context to ocean wildlife.
On my tour departing from Long Beach, we saw five gray whales and a swarm of common dolphins feeding.
But be warned: If you get seasick easily, this trip might not be for you. On our two-and-half-hour trip, the boat rocked emphatically as we approached feeding sites. It’s fun if you can imagine yourself on a see-saw, but it might not be that enjoyable if that sounds nauseating.
While boat captains are not allowed to approach the whales too closely due to environmental protections, the whales can approach the boat if they choose. Sometimes the whales seem curious and watch us in return — it’s up to them and how they are feeling.
Get involved
Cabrillo Marine Aquarium 3720 Stephen M. White Drive, San Pedro
If you really catch the whale-watching bug, you’re in luck.
At the Cabrillo Marine Aquarium, they offer a whale-watching naturalist program where you can volunteer and train to be a naturalist on board whale-watching cruises.
DiPompei said they train anyone over the age of 18 “who’s interested in learning about whales and volunteering their time to be on these whale-watching boats to talk to the general public and to talk to students.”
This program was started in the 1970s by John Olge, one of the founders of Cabrillo Marine Aquarium, with an emphasis on education and showing schoolchildren the beauty of our natural world.
The aquarium is also a great place to introduce whales to children. With kid-sized exhibits and educational programs throughout the year, it’s an ideal way to show young ones just how big and beautiful our oceans are.
