Q&A with Erik Johnson on the Lasting Impact of the BP Oil Spill

On April 20, 2010, the BP Deepwater Horizon oil rig exploded, killing 11 people and spilling an estimated 200 million gallons of oil into the Gulf of Mexico. In remembrance of that disaster 15 years ago, I sat down with Erik Johnson, Director of Conservation Science for Audubon Delta, to discuss how it shaped the last 15 years.

Kelly McNab: What was your role during the BP oil spill and how did you become involved with Audubon?

Erik Johnson: In 2010, I was a Ph.D. candidate at Louisiana State University, working on my dissertation and preparing to graduate the following year. Most of my fieldwork was done when the Deepwater Horizon spill hit in April—and it quickly became clear this wasn’t going to be a short-lived event.

A fellow grad student in my lab, Jared Wolfe, had worked on Natural Resource Damage Assessment (NRDA) efforts in California and had seen how community science—especially birding groups—played a significant role in contributing to conservation efforts. That kind of grassroots effort didn’t really exist in the Gulf, so he reached out to the Baton Rouge Audubon Society to organize volunteers to monitor the coastline after the spill. He asked if I wanted to be involved, and I jumped at the chance, thinking it would be a small side project. It quickly became much more than that.

Within days, we began mobilizing volunteers and soon caught the attention of Audubon staff across the Gulf region. We built a volunteer network stretching from Galveston Bay to the Florida Panhandle, with volunteers collecting data on oiled birds using NRDA-aligned protocols. Because we weren’t bound by the legal restrictions formal NRDA teams faced, we could quickly share what we were seeing, publish numbers, and keep the public informed and engaged.

My role was organizing volunteers and helping shape the monitoring protocols, which had to be flexible because coastal access constantly shifted as beaches opened and closed. Through November 2011, volunteer bird surveyors collected around 60,000 observations, which helped us understand how frequently birds were being oiled.

At the time, I wasn’t Audubon staff—just a volunteer. But the spill response helped spark broader investments in the Gulf. In 2011, I was hired as a Gulf Coast Regional Conservation Biologist to help shape a new regional strategy. When Audubon Louisiana [now Audubon Delta] launched in 2012, I became Director of Conservation and started building a state-level bird program.

That early volunteer effort became the foundation for the Audubon Coastal Bird Survey, which still runs today—tracking migratory and non-breeding shorebirds across the Gulf Coast through community science.

KM: How did you and your team measure and track the immediate impacts of the spill on bird species? What were the primary methods you used to collect data?

EJ: When the spill happened, eBird was still in its early days, but use by birders was becoming more widespread. We worked with the eBird team to add NRDA oiling codes (from trace oil to fully oiled) so volunteers could log what they saw. The goal wasn’t to count every bird, but to assess individual birds for oil and move on.

We documented around 1,000 visibly oiled birds, with the highest concentrations in southeast Louisiana. As you moved east or west from that area, oiling rates declined. Volunteers submitted observations as quickly as possible, and the data gave us a snapshot of where impacts were most severe.

Survey locations were largely access-driven—Grand Isle and Elmer’s Island were key locations early on, and occasionally, we could get out to barrier islands by boat. In Mississippi, even if beaches were technically closed, volunteers could often assess birds from the roadside using spotting scopes.

The surveying area stretched from the Bolivar Peninsula in Texas to the Panhandle of Florida. In areas with fewer restrictions, like Mississippi and Alabama, we were able to establish formal routes sooner. By fall 2010, we started setting up similar transects in Louisiana.

KM: In the aftermath of the spill, was there one bird species that was most affected, and why?

EJ: A few species stood out after the spill. Brown Pelicans, Louisiana’s state bird, were heavily impacted, but tough to assess in the field because of their dark plumage—light oiling didn’t always show unless you got a close look. Laughing Gulls, by contrast, were easier to evaluate. They’re abundant and have bright white feathers, so oil was more visible, and we saw a lot of them affected.

Shorebirds like Sanderlings were especially vulnerable. These birds live in the intertidal zone, constantly running up and down the beach with the movement of the waves to feed on small invertebrates. Because they spend time in that narrow band where oil was washing in, they were particularly vulnerable to exposure.

While we focused on visible oiling, researchers dug into the more profound impacts. Studies on Seaside Sparrows, Common Loons, and Brown Pelicans showed how even low-level exposure could affect respiration, metabolism, and long-term health. Because birds preen constantly, even a small amount of oil can lead to ingestion, which can cause internal damage and chronic conditions over time. Teams from Louisiana State University, University of Louisiana at Lafayette, and others worked to understand those long-term effects.

KM: What were some of the most striking observations you made in the first few weeks or months after the spill?

EJ: One moment that stuck with me was seeing a Ruddy Turnstone that had been badly oiled. Despite its condition, it could still fly—just enough to stay out of reach of anyone trying to help. I watched it struggle, eventually landing in the marsh where it became completely inaccessible. I was maybe ten feet away, but I could do nothing. Situations like that stay with you.

There was also a strange emotional tension to the work. On one hand, birding brings a lot of joy—it’s peaceful, rewarding, and even therapeutic. But during the spill response, going out to watch birds meant knowing you’d likely see animals injured or suffering long-term effects from oil exposure. That made the whole experience emotionally complex. It was a tough balance—trying to stay focused on the data while also processing the reality of what we were witnessing.

And it wasn’t just me. Dozens of volunteers willingly put themselves in that same position. They were out there, day after day, observing the birds they loved while also having to document the damage. It was incredibly stressful at times, and I greatly respect the people who do that kind of work under those conditions.

KM: What role did oil-covered habitats, like marshlands and beaches, play in losing or disrupting bird populations?

In the immediate aftermath, heavily oiled areas experienced widespread vegetation die-off. One clear example was Cat Island in Barataria Bay—a small mangrove island that had long been a nesting site for Brown Pelicans and other coastal birds. The island had already been deteriorating for years, but the oil spill effectively delivered the final blow. The mangroves died, and with no root structure to hold the sediment in place, storms eventually washed the island away. It had nesting pelicans in 2010; by 2011, it was gone.

It’s worth noting that the loss of marsh habitat wasn’t just temporary in many cases—it was permanent. In the Mississippi River Delta, where sediment supply has been cut off, nothing is rebuilding those eroded shorelines. Once that vegetation dies and the land washes away, it’s gone. And that’s part of the injury that BP was ultimately held responsible for and why much of the settlement funding has gone toward coastal restoration.

The oil spill acted as an accelerant to existing environmental threats in Gulf Coast ecosystems. Many threats to bird populations—like habitat loss—were already in motion due to sea level rise, subsidence, and reduced sediment. But the spill sped things up dramatically. Cat Island, for example, was eroding, but the oil killed its mangroves and hastened its collapse within a season.

Marsh edges saw the same effect. Without vegetation, erosion accelerated—land that might’ve lasted a decade was gone in months. And as land disappears faster, nearby habitats and nesting sites are put at even greater risk.

In that sense, the spill didn’t just add to the damage—it compounded it. It pushed an already stressed system closer to the edge. For bird populations that depend on healthy, intact coastal habitat, it meant greater pressure on nesting, roosting, and foraging areas. It also accelerated the urgency around coastal restoration efforts. In a landscape that’s already disappearing, the spill was both a literal and figurative insult to injury.

KM: What efforts have been made over the past 15 years to restore bird habitats in the Gulf of Mexico? What has been successful, and where is there still room for improvement?

EJ: Over the past 15 years, BP settlement funds have fueled major restoration across the Gulf, with birds as one of the funding focus areas. Most bird-specific dollars have now been spent—and many of the results speak for themselves.

Projects like Queen Bess Island, Rabbit Island, and soon Chandeleur and Terrebonne Houma Navigation Canal islands have restored some of the most important colonial nesting sites in the Western Hemisphere. Queen Bess, for example, saw pelicans return almost immediately after restoration—faster than expected and in big numbers. That’s precisely what NRDA dollars were meant to do: bring back what was lost.

Beyond the projects explicitly funded for birds, there’s also been a broad range of habitat restoration efforts that indirectly benefit bird populations. The River Reintroduction into Maurepas Swamp project, for instance, isn’t a seabird habitat. Still, it plays a key role in strengthening the broader estuary system—benefiting species that rely on coastal forested wetlands. There have been multiple barrier island restoration efforts across the Gulf coast. These projects help stabilize land, provide higher elevation nesting areas, and create critical habitat for species like Least Terns and Wilson’s Plovers.

There’s still work to do—especially around long-term stewardship and monitoring—but the gains have been meaningful, measurable, and lasting.

KM: Given the anniversary, how do you view the broader implications of the BP oil spill on environmental policies related to oil drilling, habitat protection, and conservation of endangered species?

EJ: One of the biggest shifts after the BP oil spill was the overhaul of offshore energy oversight. The Minerals Management Service was replaced by the Bureau of Energy Management (BOEM) in 2010—a move widely seen as a step forward in regulating offshore energy projects more responsibly.

Since then, BOEM has led efforts to develop offshore wind in the Gulf, identifying 14 potential wind energy areas in federal waters. Their process has been deliberate and transparent, with strong environmental reviews that consider everything from seabird distributions to endangered species impacts. They’ve also welcomed public input and incorporated that feedback into their planning.

From a conservation standpoint, the shift toward renewables—if done responsibly—benefits birds everywhere. Climate change is already having measurable effects on bird populations, even in remote places like the Amazon, where species are physically changing in response to shifting conditions. So, while offshore wind development comes with its own challenges, the long-term benefit of reducing our carbon footprint is critical.

The oil spill exposed serious gaps in offshore permitting and regulation—some of the original Deepwater Horizon permits, for example, referenced species like walruses that don’t even live in the Gulf, showing just how outdated and disconnected the system had become. The creation of BOEM and the reforms that followed have been an important part of addressing those failures and setting a higher standard for future energy development.

Ultimately, we support well-sited wind projects. Careful planning—especially when it comes to where and how infrastructure is built—is essential. But this broader move toward a diversified, U.S.-based, and responsibly managed energy system is one of the more meaningful long-term outcomes of the spill and its aftermath.

KM: How optimistic are you about the future of bird populations in the Gulf region as we look ahead to the next 15 years?

EJ: I’m pretty optimistic about the next 15 years for Gulf Coast birds. Major investments in restoring habitat—barrier islands, nesting sites, stewardship— is paying off for species like Brown Pelicans, Least Terns, and Royal Terns. Black Skimmers are still a concern, but now we have the data to track and prioritize those declines—something we didn’t have in 2010.

The larger-scale restoration work also gives me hope. Projects like the Mid-Barataria Sediment Diversion and River Reintroduction into Maurepas Swamp are crucial. Reconnecting the Mississippi River to its delta is how we support long-term habitat for birds and other wildlife. We’ve already seen that in places like West Bay and Wax Lake Outlet—where river reconnection has led to new deltas forming and supporting thriving bird colonies.

So the 15-year outlook feels encouraging. The bigger worry is the long-term—50 or 100 years from now—with sea-level rise and continued land loss. But compared to where we were in 2010, we’ve got better tools, better data, and real momentum. That’s a good place to be.

KM: Anything else to add?

EJ: One of the really powerful outcomes of the spill is how much student learning and career development it sparked. The generation that came of age during or just after the spill, had choices to make about what kind of future they wanted. And in a lot of cases, this event helped shape those paths.

The funding that followed created real opportunities—for undergrads, master’s students, Ph.D. candidates. I’d love to know how many advanced degrees have been earned through studying the Gulf since 2010. It must be in the thousands. The spill and its aftermath inspired a generation of conservation scientists, land managers, and policy leaders.

It also created jobs—not just in conservation, but city planning, engineering, restoration, and water management. There’s that stat that water management in southeast Louisiana now outpaces oil and gas, and it’s real. This work has economic weight behind it.

Some of that comes from funding, but a lot comes from people—bringing passion, skills, and new ideas. The delta is in crisis, and the state is investing more than ever to fix it. That investment means jobs and long-term careers.

One of the more underappreciated legacies of the oil spill is how it seeded this whole generation of professionals dedicated to restoring and protecting the Gulf. And we’re part of that—because people paid attention when it mattered.