An obituary for the vaquita

I prepare obituary sketches for high-profile conservation figures and species-on-the-brink in advance, to be held until they’re needed to be developed into full obituaries.

The following is one I hope to never publish, though as of today, fewer than ten vaquitas—gentle porpoises no larger than a child—are believed to remain in the wild.

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The vaquita, the world’s smallest porpoise, is no more.

The vaquita (Phocoena sinus), a shy inhabitant of the Gulf of California, met its end not through natural causes but through human actions and neglect.

Rarely glimpsed, even by the most vigilant scientists, this tiny cetacean was recognized by science only in 1958, and just decades later, its survival became perilous. Known for their dark, expressive eyes and small, delicate fins, vaquitas seemed more like characters from a painter’s brush than from the depths of the sea. They lived solitary lives, quietly tracing the Gulf’s shallow waters alone or in pairs. And in their obscurity, they were endangered.

Their foe was simple but deadly: the gillnets of illegal fishermen, set to capture totoaba fish, a species whose bladder fetches astronomical prices on the black market. The vaquita, with neither a voice nor market value, became collateral in this ruthless trade. Despite international laws, appeals from activists, and last-ditch government efforts, the nets continued to be cast, and the remaining vaquitas dwindled.

In death, the vaquita joins a tragic lineage of creatures extinguished by an insatiable world. Its life was small, a brief flicker in the grander narrative of time, yet the void it leaves is disproportionately vast—an emblem of our disregard for the delicate ecosystems we depend upon. With its loss, we grieve a species we knew only fleetingly, but whose presence once graced the Gulf’s richness of life.

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And yet, this fate is not yet sealed. There remains, perhaps, one slender chance to avoid the need for this obituary. If there is enough pressure, enough will, and enough urgency to save the remaining few, then maybe—just maybe—these words can remain forever unpublished. But that choice is not up to them; it is up to us.

The window to save the vaquita is closing, and recent last-ditch efforts have fallen short. Organizations like Earth League International (ELI) and the National Marine Mammal Foundation are among those striving to prevent its extinction.

Currently, the most viable path to saving the vaquita is to pressure key governments—Mexico, the U.S., and possibly China—to take decisive action against totoaba trafficking.

Could the vaquita’s plight be framed as an opportunity for the incoming U.S. administration? Compelling elements exist: the vaquita is a charismatic species beloved by those who know it, saving it would mean challenging a cartel and confronting entrenched interests, and preventing its extinction would be a bold and audacious achievement.

The vaquita’s fate in our hands.