The $8 billion anchovy empire you didn't know existed
Hey Reader,
Every few years, the Pacific Ocean throws a tantrum big enough to cancel weekend plans across three continents. The weather finally gets dramatic, and Dallas Raines breaks out his fist pump. At last, a Southern California forecast that isn’t “74 and sunny.”
But meteorologists weren’t the first to spot this phenomenon.
Fishermen were.
Back in the 1600s, Peruvian fishermen noticed something strange. Some Decembers, the anchovies just…vanished. One day the nets were overflowing, the next day nothing but seaweed and regret.
No anchovies meant no income. No income meant a very bleak Christmas. Hence they gave the phenomenon an apt name: El Niño de Navidad, which roughly translates to “this infant is ruining our Q4.”
Welcome to Week 16.
Gone Fishing
So where do the anchovies go? They’re the proverbial canary in the coal mine.
Normally, trade winds blow warm water west across the Pacific, piling it up near Indonesia. That pushes surface water out of the way, letting cold, nutrient-rich water rise from the deep.
Why is the deep so loaded with life-supporting stuff? Because that’s where dead plankton sink. The ocean floor is nature’s compost bin. When that cold water rises, it brings the buffet with it. Phytoplankton bloom. Anchovies feast. Circle of life, Peruvian fishing edition.
During El Niño, those winds slacken and the warm surface layer lounges across the ocean like a lazy sunbather, smothering the nutrient-loaded deep below. No upwelling. No buffet.
The anchovies, faced with tepid, empty-calorie water, hightail it out of South America, preferring a cold green smoothie to a flat Diet Coke.
The Butterfly Effect, But With Fish
But why all the fuss about anchovies, a pizza topping more reviled than pineapple?
These tiny fish are the foundation of an $8 billion industry. They’re ground into fishmeal that feeds chickens, pigs, and farmed salmon worldwide. When anchovies vanish, the price of everything from eggs to sushi goes up.
And anchovies are just the tip of the melting iceberg.
That warm water is basically rocket fuel for weather chaos. The extra heat pumps moisture into the atmosphere, scrambles the jet stream, and suddenly California’s getting hammered with atmospheric rivers while Australia’s on fire. Again.
Anchovies: 1, Humans: 0
The irony is these prehistoric fish respond to El Niño better than humans do.
You can predict it months in advance with satellites, ocean buoys, and computer models that would rival NASA.
Yet somehow, everyone still acts surprised when it arrives.
“Flooding? In a flood zone? During the predicted flood season? Who could have seen this coming?”
The anchovies. The anchovies saw it coming. They left months ago.
And yet somehow, halfway through winter, you’re still consulting Punxsutawney Phil. A groundhog with seasonal allergies.
When the storm hits, I’m not being “unpredictable.” Stop blaming me.
I can only give so many warnings. If El Niño rattles you, climate change is going to be a real character-building experience.
Now With Extra Chaos
So are we getting more El Niños because of climate change? I’ve been hearing about it a lot more lately.
You’d think so.
But, El Niño’s have been wreaking havoc for thousands of years. Ice core data shows this party-crasher showing up long before humans discovered coal or invented plastic straws.
You’re hearing about it more now because climate change is turning every El Niño into a louder, stronger, more chaotic version of itself. The pattern isn’t new. The power is.
Warmer oceans supercharge the system. Warm water is basically stored energy. More heat means more moisture in the atmosphere, and more fuel for extreme weather.
The 2015-2016 El Niño was one of the strongest on record, killing coral reefs, flooding Peru, and causing droughts that affected 60 million people.
Think of it this way: El Niño has always been that friend who shows up uninvited to the party. Climate change is giving that friend a Red Bull and Vodka.
Your Local Forecast
The next El Niño isn’t an if, it’s a when. And when it comes, remember this:
- Stock up on rain gear if you’re in California.
- Check your flood insurance.
- Support local food systems. They’re more resilient than global supply chains held together by anchovy paste.
- Stop building in flood zones and getting pummeled. It’s only getting worse.
The truth is, we ignore the butterfly effect until it slaps us in the face.
Everything’s connected. The anchovy to your egg prices. Ocean temperatures to your insurance premiums. Peruvian fishermen to your weekend weather.
The fish figured this out centuries ago.
Meanwhile, humans are still debating climate change while “hundred-year” floods become an annual event.
Who’s the superior species again?
Progress, not perfection.
Mother Nature
Next week: Why everyone suddenly has Lyme Disease.
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Know someone who thinks one degree won’t change anything? Forward this before the next hurricane proves them wrong.
Know someone complaining about egg prices right now? It’s a La Niña year. Find someone else to blame.
