We've heard a lot about warming oceans in the past couple of decades, and it's always sounded so distant and technical. Even to me a 2-degree jump in sea temperature sounded harmless. But that was before I saw what it meant. That's when it got personal, when it literally hit me where I live.

During the summer of 2010-11, Western Australia had an unprecedented marine heatwave. One morning not far from where I live, beach-walkers saw seabirds massed along the shoreline. Birds as far as the eye could see. When they got closer they saw the tide-line covered with dead and dying abalone – thousands of them. The sea had suddenly gotten too hot for these molluscs to endure. So they climbed out off the limestone reefs to escape, only to find themselves – out of the frying pan and into the fire – roasting to death on the sand. A mass stranding of abalone – no one had ever seen the like before.

Just think of it for a moment, a creature so desperate to escape its own intolerable world it casts itself ashore to die. The pathos of that. And consider what it might mean for all those other creatures, unseen and unnoticed, beneath the sunlit surface.

This event really shook me because abalone has been such an important part of my life. When I was a kid the shellfish was a local staple, growing in such abundance I could fill a string bag with them in 10 minutes before school. We called it muttonfish. On our honeymoon my wife and I dived for them. Abalone was our first meal as a married couple, and in time we showed our kids how to collect them and cook them, just as our parents had taught us. But now, in our part of the world, the population is decimated and the fishery closed.