When an editor called to ask if I could photograph a story about fireflies in Mexico, I didn’t check my schedule before I said yes. I’d seen these insects light up the forests in Tlaxcala once before, and I jumped at the chance to go back.

I had three nights to capture the magical scene in the forest. Camera stand in hand, I hiked with my colleagues into the foggy forest at dusk. According to our guides, visitors are usually not allowed to photograph the fireflies because the presence of artificial light from electronics can affect their habits. As I started shooting, I adjusted my exposures constantly to account for the fading light. In order to get the composition that I wanted, I placed my camera stand on a steep, rocky path and had to steady it during the long exposures. Normally this wouldn’t be a big deal, but the fireflies were very interested in the camera and, by extension, in me. I stood completely still while they crawled all over me—my arms, my hair, my face—and tickled (呵痒) my nose and cheeks. From what I observed, peak firefly presence happens for only about 20 minutes each night, so I had time for just a few tries.

On the last night everything came together. The weather cooperated. I had improved my method for focusing and composing in the dark with quick flashes from a powerful flashlight—and I’d grown accustomed to insects on my face. I was rewarded with the image you see here. Each spot of light is one of several bursts that a firefly makes as it travels in a 30-second exposure. You can trace the insects’ paths: Some make small circles, like those in the bottom center of the frame, while others move steadily in one direction or another.

The first time I visited the fireflies, I didn’t have the pressure of trying to capture and convey this astonishing scene. That will always be my favorite experience with these shining creatures.

Despite the bad reputation of sharks, they are crucial to the health of the marine ecosystem and can even help fight climate change.

In the shallows of Shaik Bay, Western Australia, seagrass is food for the sea cows, which can weigh as much as 500 kg and eat roughly 40 kg of seagrass a day. Sea cows are a rich source of food for tiger sharks. By keeping the sea cow population controlled, tiger sharks here help the seagrass grow sustainably. A booming seagrass meadow stores twice as much CO₂ per square mile as forests typically do on land.

But tiger shark numbers are declining. Off Australia’s northeast coast of Queensland, tiger sharks are estimated to have fallen by at least 71 percent, largely due to overfishing. A reduction in tiger sharks means more seagrass consumed by herbivores (食草动物) and less carbon stored in sea vegetation. This raised the question: What if they were absent from the Shark Bay — would the seagrass-dominated ecosystem survive?

To find out, researcher led by Rob Nowicki of Florida International University, spent time in Eastern Australia, where shark numbers were lower and sea cows ate seagrass largely undisturbed. “When uncontrolled, sea cows can rapidly destroy wide areas of seagrass.” said Nowicki.

Those findings emphasized that tiger sharks were playing an important role in preventing the reduction of seagrass in Shark Bay. If their populations continue to decline, the resilience of carbon-rich ocean ecosystems will likely decrease.

Aside from supporting sustainable fishing, Nowicki said the only way to truly protect marine life is to reduce our global greenhouse gas emissions. “Ultimately, if we are going to protect our ecosystems in the centuries to come, we are going to need to solve climate change while undertaking species protection at the same time.”

It was a Sunday and the heavy storm had lasted all night. The morning after the storm, though, was beautiful: blue skies, warm air and a calm, inviting sea touching the shore gently.

My father realized it was a good day for fishing and invited my sister and me to go with him. I was only 14 and fishing had never been my thing, but I decided to go all the same. I’m so glad I did.

On the road to the harbor we could see the terrible destruction on the coast, but the harbor itself was in fairly good shape. After all, it was protected by the arms of a bay that had only one tiny channel to the sea. As we got on board, we noticed two big humps(脊背) in the distance.

On approaching them, we saw it was a mother whale with her baby. We couldn’t believe it ——there aren’t any whales along the coast here. The storm must have driven them across the ocean into the bay, in which the still water was so badly polluted that nothing could survive.

The little baby whale——actually as big as our boat——was obviously stuck and could not move. The mother dived under the water and came up suddenly, making big whirlpools(漩涡) and waves.” She’s trying to help her baby, but on the wrong side, my father said. At this point, my father moved our boat in a semicircle to the other side and ,heading the boat towards the baby whale, pushed it gently. With our several                                 gentle pushes the big hump turned over and disappeared under water. it swam up right beside its mum. They struggled in their desperate attempts to escape but missed the exit and started heading in the wrong direction.

We hurried up to the whales and tried to lead them towards the bay channel. Slowly, they let us lead them, sometimes rising from the water right beside us to breathe——and to give us a trusting look with those huge eyes. Once they hit their first part of clean water flowing straight from the sea, the mum gave us a wave with her tail and off they swam into the distance.

In the excitement it had felt like only a few minutes, but we had been with those wonderful animals for almost an hour and a half. That was the simple and lasting beauty of the day. Nearly four decades later ,I still look back fondly to that golden day at sea.