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They’re so cute! Earlier this month, thousands of baby redfish arrived by trailer at West Cove, on Louisiana’s southwestern coast. Volunteers then carried them in buckets to waiting boats, which motored them into nearby canals for release. That was the beginning of their lives in the wild. Until then, they had been growing in a hatchery. In all, about 150,000 young redfish (also known as red drum) were released in the Calcasieu Lake estuary, the Rigolets and waters near Grand Isle. Hatcheries give redfish a good head start. The rest depends on the habitat.

The U.S. Supreme Court recently cleared the way for President Donald Trump to keep building his garish ballroom, complete with gilded columns, gold chandeliers, and a “drone-proof” roof. The decision might look like a one-off fight over historic preservation, but some legal scholars fear the blast zone is much wider. The real question is more fundamental: who gets to ask a federal court to stop an allegedly unlawful project?

I’ll say this up front: I love rockets. So you’d think I would welcome the announcement that SpaceX plans to build the world’s largest spaceport on the Louisiana coast, less than a three-hour drive from my house. I want to love this idea. But I don’t.

It’s August here in western Washington State, which means two things: (1) I’ll soon be packing up for my return to New Orleans (class starts soon), and (2) the smoke blowing in from regional wildfires is making my nose burn. Appropriately, the news here is full of stories about personal loss, evacuation routes, fire-suppression strategies, and the brave firefighters who put their lives on the line to keep us safe. But there’s a deeper story: Our broad approach to handling wildfire in the United States was designed for a climate that no longer exists. We must do better.

In this post and video, I discuss the 4th of July Clearwater incident in New York Harbor with Dan Farber, a law professor at UC-Berkeley, who specializes in constitutional and environmental law.

A fan of place-based education, every year I haul my students to Louisiana’s Maurepas Wildlife Management Area to paddle the swamps and learn about coastal law. This semester, I had ten students with me, each paddling a kayak on the swamp’s shimmering water. Bits of salvinia, a free-floating aquatic fern, eased downstream at an almost imperceptible rate. Stories on the bayou are always changing. This year, the narrative wrestled with a choice the state is making about what the Maurepas Swamp will become — an ecological jewel or a carbon-capture dump. The community is torn.

I was writing in a New Orleans coffee house last spring when another customer noticed the ocean stickers on my laptop and offered me a new one in support of a regional cause: the Rice’s whale, a species that had only recently been identified and is listed as endangered under the Endangered Species Act (ESA). That’s because only about 50 of these creatures exist. And they all live full-time in the Gulf of Mexico. I’ve seen many species of whales, but never this one. I’m told they have very distinct vocalization patterns and a unique diving pattern. Unlike many whales that feed near the surface, Rice's whales make deep dives toward the seafloor during the day to feed on fish and spend their nights sleeping within 50 feet of the surface. The Trump administration apparently wants them gone.

Watch Center President Rob Verchick's interview on MSNBC with Richard Liu on record-setting heat, climate resilience, and his latest book, The Octopus in the Parking Garage.

Last summer, standing outside the Paradise Inn in Washington’s Mount Rainier National Park, I still needed a fleece to keep warm. In the shadow of the park’s snow-covered volcano, the meadows sparkled with wildflowers. I remembered a news article from a few years back about how Mount Rainier’s iconic flora were slowly retreating to higher elevations away from the inn. Park scientists attributed this to higher temperatures caused by climate change. There was some debate at the time about whether park staff should manually seed the meadows where lodge visitors gather or to let the buttercups and salmonberries crawl naturally uphill. I don’t know where they ended up on that.