Kep & Marine Life : The Archipelago of the Last Seahorses
- La Rédaction
- May 11
- 5 min read
In Kep's Waters, a Millennial Creature Reclaims Its Seagrass Meadows — and Restores Hope to an Entire Sea.
You must swim slowly. Very slowly. Then stop, hold your breath, and let your eyes adjust to the dance of the seagrasses. It is at that moment, and only that moment, that you spot the seahorse: standing like a jade figurine in the warm current of the Gulf of Thailand, its tail coiled around a blade of posidonia, its tiny snout pointed toward the bottom as if pondering great matters.
Off the coast of Kep, the seafloors are experiencing a quiet but profound revival. After decades of destructive fishing — bottom trawling, electric fishing, dynamite — data collected by Marine Conservation Cambodia (MCC) reveals a trend that seemed unthinkable until now: seahorse populations are increasing.
“The fishermen tell us they’re seeing species again that had disappeared for years. The data confirms what their eyes are already whispering to them.” — Marine Conservation Cambodia
The Archipelago of the Last Seahorses
The thirteen islands of the Kep archipelago — Koh Seh, Koh Angkrong, Koh Mak Prang, Koh Pou, and their neighbors — host the highest concentration of seahorses in Cambodia. Six species have been recorded there by MCC researchers: Hippocampus spinosissimus, H. kuda, H. histrix, H. trimaculatus, H. kelloggi, and the delicate H. mohnikei, the Japanese seahorse. An exceptional underwater heritage, lying there like a treasure few bothered to look at.
For the seahorse is a creature of paradoxes. A fish that doesn’t look like a fish, one of the ocean’s slowest swimmers (it can move at less than a meter and a half per hour), yet a fearsomely effective predator — in good conditions, it captures up to 90% of its prey, far surpassing the lion in the art of hunting. And above all, it is the only animal on Earth where the male carries the young to term, in a ventral pouch designed to hold several hundred embryos.
Key Figures · Kep Ecosystem
6 Seahorse species recorded in Cambodian waters
6,399 Hectares of seagrass meadows documented (2023)
11,354 Hectares covered by the Kep Marine Fisheries Management Area
2,500+ Hectares of seagrasses undergoing regeneration
The Era of Disaster
Just a decade ago, the stories from Khmer fishermen in Kep painted a bleak picture. Bottom trawlers scraped the seagrass meadows like plowing a field, carrying away corals, bivalves, and anything unfortunate enough to be there. Shrimp, crabs, and seahorses — caught as bycatch or deliberately sought out to be sold dried to Vietnamese middlemen at $500 per kilogram — were disappearing at an alarming rate.
The seahorse is easy prey.
A poor swimmer, tied to a tiny territory, unable to flee a trawl, it accumulates handicaps against industrial fishing gear. Its unique biology makes it vulnerable too: its populations take time to recover, and the loss of habitat — a destroyed seagrass meadow, a kelp bed ripped away — can doom an entire colony.
The Resurrection of Koh Seh
The turning point comes gradually, starting in 2007, with MCC’s establishment on Cambodia’s coasts. The British organization begins by mapping the invisible: distribution, density, diversity, and life cycle of seahorses in the archipelago. It partners with Project Seahorse, Chicago’s Shedd Aquarium, and Cambodia’s Department of Fisheries to build one of Southeast Asia’s most rigorous syngnathid conservation programs.
Around Koh Seh island, two strict no-take zones are established. No fishing, no anchoring, no unguided tourism. Regular patrols are organized with local authorities. Artificial structures — dubbed Fishery Productivity Structures — are submerged to provide attachment substrates for seagrasses. Over 350 of these devices have been deployed in five years.
The results exceed the most cautious hopes. The seagrasses are growing back. Coral reefs, which some thought lost forever, show signs of recolonization. And the seahorses — discreet, patient, loyal to their territory — seem to sense that something has changed.
“The seahorse is the only animal on Earth where the male carries the young. A hunter more effective than the lion, it is also one of the ocean’s most fragile beings.”
A “Hope Spot” at the End of the World
In April 2019, international recognition arrives: Mission Blue, the NGO founded by oceanographer Sylvia Earle, designates the Kep archipelago as a “Hope Spot” — a site of hope, one of those places on the planet where marine conservation can still make a difference. A symbolic but powerful declaration, placing Cambodia’s waters on the global map of marine biodiversity to protect.
Since then, good news keeps coming. MCC’s monitoring data reports a measurable increase in marine biodiversity and biomass. Irrawaddy dolphins — an Endangered (EN) species on the IUCN Red List — are observed again in the waters of Kep and Kampot. The dugong, that large marine mammal thought permanently chased from these shores, makes reappearances. And local fishermen, who once returned empty-handed, report more abundant catches.
In 2024, the Asian Development Bank grants MCC funding to extend its protection system across Cambodia’s entire coastline over five years — from Kep to Kampot, Kampong Som to Koh Kong. The work begun on a few isolated islands now takes on a national dimension.
Portrait · The Seahorse, a Fish Like No Other32 Known species worldwide90% Capture rate of its prey in good conditions — vs. 25% for the lion♂ Only animal where the male carries and gives birth to the youngCITES Species listed under the convention for Cambodia thanks to MCC’s work
The Sea as Memory
What’s happening off Kep is no miracle. It’s the accumulated result, over twenty years, of stubborn presence, rigorous science, and a conviction that nature, if given a chance, knows how to heal itself. Kep’s seagrass meadows are now the most extensive in Cambodia — over 6,399 hectares of documented submarine prairie — and among the most diverse in the region, with ten seagrass species recorded.
For the fishing communities who have lived on these coasts for generations, the ocean’s rebirth is not just ecological. It’s a matter of survival. Fish stocks are rebuilding. Crabs are returning. And with them, the possibility of a future that doesn’t force a choice between feeding your family today or depleting the sea tomorrow.
The seahorse, meanwhile, continues to drift with the warm currents of the Gulf of Thailand, its tail coiled around a blade of grass, indifferent to the battles fought in its name. It has been there for millions of years. It may still be there, if we do what’s needed, for millions more.
“In the depths of the Kep archipelago, something ancient is starting to breathe again. It’s not victory yet — but it is, finally, the beginning of a return.”
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