Published July 9, 2026 03:00AM
Alaska
Genetic diversity in Alaska’s red king crab may provide climate change resilience
New genetic research on the Alaska red king crab reveals previously undiscovered diversity among different regions, suggesting the species is more resilient to climate change and changing ocean conditions.
Maintaining genetic diversity within and among populations is vital to ensure species are resilient to challenging conditions. Without it, a single disease or set of conditions—such as a prolonged change in ocean acidification—could drive a species to extinction.
Fortunately, new research has revealed more genetic diversity across Alaska’s red king crab populations than originally documented. This suggests that the species will be more resilient in the face of changing conditions like ocean warming. However, any efforts to enhance red king crab populations need to be careful not to affect this genetic diversity.
King crab in Alaska
Historically, the red king crab fishery was Alaska’s top shellfish fishery. It’s embedded in the culture of Alaska’s working waterfronts and king crabs have been the centerpiece of holiday feasts around the world. However, the red king crab fishery collapsed in the 1980s. Since 1983, most populations have been depressed statewide and the Gulf of Alaska fishery remains closed.
Wes Larson is co-author of the research published in Evolutionary Applications and the genetics program manager at the NOAA Alaska Fisheries Science Center. He reflects, “When it comes to understanding crab biomass declines and how to recover populations, we need to better understand population structure and local adaptation. There are a lot of concerned and invested fishermen, processors, and community members getting more engaged in these issues and it’s propelling new and innovative research.”
To dig into this need, Larson and a team of collaborators embarked on a study to generate whole genome sequencing data on red king crab in different locations across Alaska. The benefit of whole genome sequencing over previous methods is that it’s akin to reading the full story of an organism’s makeup instead of just a chapter or two. This holistic approach offers more robust analysis in order to tease apart similarities and differences between locations.
New genetics research in Alaska
Traditionally, information about commercially important species comes from fisheries-dependent data (collected on commercial fishing vessels) or independent surveys (from scientific research vessels). From these, we gather data on abundance, size, sex, reproductive status, diet, etc.
Genetics tools help to fill in the information gaps from traditional surveys, and can be used to:
- Define stock of origin
- Assess local adaptation
- Document genetic diversity and inbreeding
Whole genome sequencing builds on past methods by enhancing our ability to detect important differences between populations at finer scales.
Red king crab live in diverse environments—from coastal bays in the north, to open sea shelves in the Bering Sea. They also live in small bays and fjords fed by glacial melt in Southeast Alaska and the Gulf of Alaska. King crab in Alaska generally inhabit the following five regions:
- Southeast Alaska
- Gulf of Alaska
- Aleutian Islands
- Eastern Bering Sea
- Norton Sound / Chukchi Sea.
Previous genetic studies have hypothesized that king crab from these regions are split into three genetic groups:
- Southeast Alaska
- Gulf of Alaska / East Bering Sea
- Aleutian Islands / Norton Sound.
However, these studies used older genetic techniques, which may not provide the resolution necessary to accurately define genetic structure. The current study reinvestigated the genetic structure of the red king crab in all five regions using high-resolution data derived from whole genome sequencing.
The results of this study were revealing and informative. Scientists found substantial genetic structure within populations and genetic diversity between regions. In some cases, scientists observed this diversity between populations separated by only a few hundred kilometers.
“Crabs have pelagic larvae, so this is very surprising given the potential for ocean currents to distribute these larvae long distances,” said Larson. “However, these populations do not seem to be mixing and have become genetically isolated.”
Ultimately, the previous hypothesis of three genetic groupings was revised by this whole genome sequencing study. This updated method provided more clarity of fine-scale genetic differences than previous methods. The data indicate that there are six, possibly seven, genetically distinct populations:
- Southeast Alaska
- Gulf of Alaska
- Aleutian Islands
- Bristol Bay
- Pribilof Islands
- Norton Sound / Chukchi Sea
Data showed previously unrecognized differences between the Gulf of Alaska and East Bering Sea regions. And the East Bering Sea region is split into separate Bristol Bay and Pribilof Islands populations.
Researchers also found that the Aleutian Islands and Norton Sound/Chukchi Sea regions are unique. Data suggests that Norton Sound and Chukchi Sea may be distinct as well. However, further research is required to determine if this is the case.
Scientists attribute this genetic diversity to a combination of factors including populations deriving from different glacial refugia. These are areas that remained ice-free during the lce Age. And more recently, natural selection (genetic changes driven by adaptation) and genetic drift (genetic changes that are random) likely contributed to this diversity. The research documented evidence of local adaptation in most populations.
Fisheries management implications
The scientists’ approach to sequence the whole genome of red king crabs was a more detailed method using orders of magnitude more data than previous studies.
It also confirmed that fisheries are being managed effectively by region in Alaska. For example, crab stocks in the Gulf of Alaska, Aleutian Islands, Bristol Bay, and Pribilofs Islands regions are each managed separately. Prior to this new research, the Bristol Bay and Pribilof Islands were not found to be genetically distinct. This new understanding reinforces that we should continue to manage them separately.
Understanding population structure, and these newly discovered genetic signals of local adaptation, is also important for preventing overfishing on genetically unique populations. And it’s critical to provide information on how local adaptations influence responses to different climatic conditions.
We may find that some populations have the potential to fare better in future climate conditions that are likely as climate change progresses. Genetics can also reveal shifts in population distribution. Some shifts may already be underway in the Bering Sea as the North Pacific warms.
Finally, with the Gulf of Alaska population being depressed, scientists would expect a higher potential for inbreeding and lower genetic diversity. However, researchers found no evidence of reduced diversity, meaning genetic health did not suffer as the population declined. This foundation of genetic diversity means that genetic factors should not limit recovery.
This research also provides important data that can be used to inform broodstock selection for red king crab enhancement programs. Enhancement programs raise young crabs in hatcheries and release them into the wild to enhance the population.
Given the genetic diversity of red king crab across Alaska, it’s vital to prioritize local broodstock for enhancement before sourcing from elsewhere. This helps to keep genetic diversity intact and ensures that the genetic integrity of locally adapted populations is not jeopardized.
More information:
Carl A. St. John et al, Whole Genome Sequencing Reveals Substantial Genetic Structure and Evidence of Local Adaptation in Alaskan Red King Crab, Evolutionary Applications (2024). DOI: 10.1111/eva.70049
Provided by
NOAA Headquarters
Citation:
Genetic diversity in Alaska’s red king crab may provide climate change resilience (2025, January 13)
retrieved 13 January 2025
from https://phys.org/news/2025-01-genetic-diversity-alaska-red-king.html
This document is subject to copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study or research, no
part may be reproduced without the written permission. The content is provided for information purposes only.
Alaska
Black bear breaks into Alaskan mall, eats a peach and relieves itself on floor before leaving: video
Can bearly believe it!
A black bear was caught on camera seemingly running errands at a local shopping mall in Anchorage, Alaska over the weekend.
The bear entered the commissary mall at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson around 9 a.m. Sunday, KTUU reported, citing a JBER spokesperson.
Wild footage shows the young cub strolling through the commissary’s automatic doors and exploring all that the mall had to offer.
The hungry bear stole and ate a piece of fruit before emptying its bowels on the hallway floor on its way out of the building.
Kory Godbout, who works at the barber shop on the military base, was waiting for his first customer of the day when he spotted the furry intruder traveling through the automatic doors.
“My coworker, who is cutting hair in front of me, she yelled, ‘Bear!’” Godbout recalled.
“And I looked up from my phone and the bear was walking into the barber shop right in front of me,” the barber said. “And we all ran into the break room and shut the door behind us.”
After a few minutes, Godbout and his coworkers emerged from the break room and followed the out-of-place bear into the commissary, where it took a peach from the grocery store and ate it.
The barber recalled that a few onlookers were “going big to try and scare” the bear out of the grocery store.
But all of a sudden, the black bear returned to the barber shop.
“By that time, we were able to run back to the shop and then lock the door,” Godbout said.
“And then we were watching him from the window and then that’s when he decided to, you know, use the restroom in the hallway.”
Officers from Conservation Law Enforcement attended the peculiar grizzly scene and were able to direct the wild animal towards a river and into the woods, according to the JBER spokesperson.
JBER’s wildlife program manager Colette Brandt said in a press release that the bear had triggered the automatic doors and that Sunday’s events were entirely incidental, KTUU reported.
While there has been a decline in bear-related calls since the military base installed bear-resistant dumpsters, seven bears have been put down at JBER for public safety over the past year.
Alaska
Fatal crash closes Glenn Highway southbound lanes near Eagle River
ANCHORAGE, Alaska (KTUU) – The southbound lanes of the Glenn Highway were closed Thursday morning near the S-curves due to a fatal crash, according to the Anchorage Police Department.
Police confirmed shortly after 11 a.m. that at least one person was dead. As of 12:45 p.m., one southbound lane is now open to traffic.
An Alaska’s News Source reporter on the scene said the crash took place near the Eagle River Loop Road. Video from the scene shows multiple vehicles took damage in the incident.
This is a developing story. It has been updated with new information.
See a spelling or grammar error? Report it to web@ktuu.com
Copyright 2026 KTUU. All rights reserved.
Alaska
Did I Find a Cure for Male Loneliness? No, But I Found a Way to Embrace Solitude in the Wild.
On the longest solo trip of my life, I stepped off a two-seat float plane onto the rocky shore of Upper Twin Lake in Alaska’s Lake Clark National Park.
I had taken four flights from New Jersey to Alaska to write about the iconic cabin handbuilt by Richard “Dick” Proenneke, the self-taught naturalist whose 30-year solo life in the wilderness was captured in the beloved PBS documentary Alone in the Wilderness. Proenneke never married, never had children, and spent nearly three decades completely alone, save for the birds he fed by hand and bears that occasionally clawed at his logs.
“He must have been lonely out here,” a fellow traveler said during the park ranger’s tour of the cabin.
On that chilly June morning last year, I found myself wondering the same thing. I was just coming to a different conclusion.
Park officials told me the cabin has seen a recent uptick in visitors, which they attribute to Proenneke’s newfound popularity on social media, and to a direct flight to the property by an outback flying service. I visited the cabin as a member of a tour group led by two guides. My group included a doctor, a retired attorney, a veterinarian, and a handful of National Parks superfans. Still, I stuck mostly to myself, spending the trip deep in my own thoughts. In Alaska, I wound up pondering a life like Proenneke’s, sans the means or skills to make it happen.
According to podcasters, writers, polls, therapists, influencers, and anyone else with a mouth or keyboard, there’s a male loneliness epidemic eroding the dated fabric of masculinity, like the snake of patriarchy eating its own tail.
Remedies for this epidemic are everywhere in the media, with new ones popping up weekly. The New York Times wondered if pickleball held the answers; others have suggested buying a personal watercraft, joining a mosh pit, or taking off your shirt at a college football game, or watching a horror-comedy starring Paul Rudd. In recent months, brunch, AI-powered companion dolls, and Jack Black have been mentioned as cures.
Outside wondered whether “outdoor friendships,” volunteering, or getting a pet could work.
These cures may seem unrelated and even, perhaps, a little silly. However, the common theme between them seems to be social interaction, choosing community over individualism, a bowling league or running club over your PlayStation.
Some entrepreneurs have even launched businesses to combat male loneliness. A deep-dive earlier this year in the New Yorker revealed how fathers are paying men to turn their sons into “alphas,” while others are joining men-only retreats to be screamed at. Men are taking reams of peptides, smashing their cheekbones with hammers, and getting chin implants in an effort to chase some warped standard of masculinity.
Most of these solutions seem alien to the introverts of society, myself included. I’m not sure I’ve ever been lonely, per se, or even bored, unless I’m stuck in small talk. I’ve never loved team sports or double dates either. In school, hearing a teacher say “let’s break into groups” made me groan.
During my trip to Alaska, I realized that Proenneke enjoyed solitude but not loneliness. The former feels intentional and rewarding, as opposed to the latter, which causes anxiety and depression. He wasn’t a misanthrope. He welcomed visitors and was thoughtful enough to whittle a variety of walking sticks to match their height.
Monroe Robinson, author of The Handcrafted Life of Dick Proenneke, spent nearly 20 years living at the cabin and maintaining it for the National Park Service. Robinson knew Proenneke, who died in 2003, at the age of 86. “He liked when people came to visit,” Robinson told me later in a call, “and he also liked when they left.”
I can relate.
My aversions to crowds and clubs have been a source of personal confusion over the years. I’m not a misanthrope, either. As a reporter, I crave deeply personal interactions with others and get invested in the people I write about to a fault. Part of me always thought loneliness was a good way to avoid heartbreak. I’ve loved deeply anyhow, and lost people in my life to suicide and divorce.
In June of 2024, I learned my then-wife was deeply unhappy in our marriage. I had a real breakdown. The ensuing algorithms of online divorce content can be toxic for men, a slippery slope greased by manosphere grifters. Well-intentioned friends and family will often just take your side during a breakup, too, and there’s not much growth in that. So I tried to avoid that noise, choosing to walk inside myself, to find a “vast inner solitude” as the poet Rainer Marie Rilke advised.
I wanted to confront my own bullshit.
I spent a few dozen nights sleeping in tents for the rest of that year, mostly in the Northeast. Sometimes I slept in single-digit temperatures. I’d reserved a tent site for my wedding anniversary, a campground where I’d wanted to renew my vows. But after my marriage began to crumble, I took my young daughter, instead of canceling. I put her in a hiking backpack to slog my way up a few summits. I kept on punishing myself too, on trail runs and difficult hikes, hoping exhaustion would tamp down the urge to beg my ex and anyone who knew her for answers. Bad cell service helped with that.
(I also found a great therapist, thankfully.)
On a long-planned family vacation to Southwest Colorado in August of 2024 that I couldn’t afford and couldn’t cancel, the San Juan Mountains loomed everywhere I went. I saw them from the window of my cabin, the dirt roads I drove along with my kids, and the hammock where I finished The Snow Leopard, in which author Peter Matthiessen joins an expedition to find the mythic beast in Nepal after the death of his wife.
The mountains felt timeless and unavoidable there, and they spoke to me, a perfect epilogue to the book’s zen message.
“Accept what’s happening” they said.
And so I accepted that my marriage was over.
In May of 2025, the divorce was finalized. A few weeks later, I was in Alaska as a freelancer, pinching myself as my plane touched down on the icy, blue lake.
Robinson, when I asked, said “feeling lonely was not a thing” for Proenneke. He was too active, too busy trying to survive. Proenneke left society, yes, but he didn’t withdraw from life. In the long winters, when no sun hit Proenneke’s sod roof, when no planes landed on the frozen lake, he would spend months penning thoughtful letters to close friends, family, and his growing legion of fans.

Proenneke cared about his cabin’s appearance too, about beauty, and that matters. He built a stone fireplace, an extra bunk for guests, and hand-carved a much-beloved Dutch door. Windows would be an inconvenient luxury in a trapper’s cabin in Alaska, but Prokenneke fashioned one that offered a grand view of the lake anyway.
While I was contemplating Proenneke’s contentment in Alaska, I was also watching contentment in action with the two young guides in charge of us there. For a moment or two, I envied both of them, the same way I envied Proenneke. Guide Dom Gawel, who is in his mid-20s, was the quieter of the two, and he led a few of us on some longer hikes while others stayed behind at camp. Later, I asked Dom about loneliness. He thought young men feel lost today “because they are comparing themselves to others in a negative way through social media” and “disconnected from nature.”
Luckily, there’s nothing close to a signal at Lake Clark National Park, no texts you feel compelled to answer, no influencers to interact with. That’s not easy to do in the United States.
I also found kinship with Dr. Adam Bolour, my kayak partner at Twin Lakes and roommate at Port Alsworth, a tiny Alaskan village on Lake Clark where we slept on our final night. We talked about fatherhood, relationships, and nature. He was traveling solo too, from California, and while he was upbeat and talkative with everyone, I watched him steal away to read some Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Self-Reliance by the lakeshore. I did the same with Proenekke’s book there.
I emailed to ask about male loneliness, when I got back to New Jersey.
“I cherish solo trips, whether I’m married, feeling alone, feeling super connected with someone or a big group,” he wrote. “It’s just great to get away and convene with silence and space.”

My revelations in Colorado and, later, at Proenneke’s cabin, helped me realize I must connect deeply with myself in the outdoors from time to time. Nature can’t just be an emergency room for me, either. It’s long-term maintenance for my physical and mental health, whether it’s trail running, floating in a swimming hole, or staring at mountains. It’s more than a hobby. The version of me who returns from those trips is a better father and, hopefully, a better partner someday.
Unlike Matthiessen, who spent months away from his young, grieving son in search of a snow leopard, or Proenneke, who spent 30 years away from almost everyone, I couldn’t and wouldn’t want to pull myself away from my children and responsibilities to that extreme. I have been guilty of that in the past. I’ll make do with a vow to see mountains like the San Juans as much as possible, even if it’s just a few days to convene with solitude, as Adam does. And if I can’t get to the Sawtooths or Switzerland, I’ll cut myself a break and keep exploring Pennsylvania or the Catskills.
A few months after I got back from Alaska, I tackled Pennsylvania’s Black Forest Trail. It’s the state’s most difficult hike, a 43-mile loop with a mind-boggling 8,500 feet of elevation gain. I was craving solitude, again, and found the trail emptier than the Alaskan backcountry. I saw as many rattlesnakes as people on that trip.
On my final night of the hike, after pushing hard for about 18 miles, I took off my boots and socks and stretched out on a shady vista as the sun began to sink. Two hikers came in, a father and son, after their own long day. They hoped to camp there too and asked if I minded. I said it was fine and then, a few minutes later, reached for my socks and boots.
I shouldered my heavy pack, wished them a deep sleep, and pushed on to find solitude, that little bit of loneliness all the world says is a problem.
Jason Nark is a reporter who covers the outdoors for the Philadelphia Inquirer and and a freelance writer whose work has appeared in The New York Times, Outside, The Alpinist, Adventure Journal, National Geographic, Dwell, and other outlets.
-
Illinois5 minutes agoIllinois election board ‘reviewing’ threat of prosecution from DOJ on noncitizen voting
-
Indiana8 minutes agoCreole Chrome Looks for Graded Glory in Indiana Derby
-
Iowa13 minutes agoPETERSON: Pollard’s “outside the lines” mindset was exactly what Iowa State needed
-
Kansas20 minutes agoKansas parents charged after child fatally shoots 5-year-old, 8-year-old
-
Kentucky23 minutes agoAffordable Care Act rates rate hikes could strain Kentucky families, WKAS warns
-
Louisiana28 minutes ago
Moncus Park gets helping hand from 260 youth volunteers across Louisiana
-
Maine35 minutes agoMaine’s high court keeps transgender athlete referendum off 2026 ballot
-
Maryland38 minutes agoMD woman sentenced to 2 years, $6.8M restitution in multi-million-dollar laundering scheme

