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Ichthyology student Katie Schmidt is currently aboard the Research Vessel Point Sur, helping a team of scientists study deep sea animals of Monterey Bay.  The team includes Dr. Jeff Drazen from the University of Hawaii, and Michelle Kay, a school teacher who is keeping a ship-board blog about life on a research cruise.   Check out her blog for great pictures of trawls full of deep-sea fish and invertebrates, as well as some cool underwater camera shots!

by Shelby Boyer, Invertebrate Zoology Lab

Believe it or not, heading off to an exotic, remote field site is not uncommon for scientists. For me, this site is the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute located on the Pacific Ocean side of Panama. I came all the way here to study corals and their interactions with endosymbiotic algae (zooxanthellae) that live inside of coral tissues. This relationship only occurs in warm, clear tropical waters near the equator.

Zooxanthellae, like all other algae, make energy from sunlight and pass some of that energy to the coral they live inside of. In return the zooxanthellae are provided with a place to live and some nutrients from the coral. When there is a positive benefit for both organisms, scientists call it a mutualism. I am just getting started on my research here and will be updating the blog as it gets going!

By Erin Loury, Ichthyology Lab

If you’re not a good morning person, think carefully before considering any type of marine field work.  Whether it’s to catch a good low tide to sample an otherwise submerged tidepool, or to squeeze in as much fishing time on the water before the afternoon wind, it’s not unusual to start a summer morning of field work at 4 a.m.  I definitely gain a new respect for weather and tides when operating on nature’s schedule – and maybe lose a bit in the beauty sleep department.
There are other consequences: I start thinking about lunch around 9:30 a.m., and bed starts sounding awfully good at 8 p.m.   Although I often wish I had a crowbar to pry open my eyelids that early in the morning, the pre-dawn start can have its benefits too.  Such as watching the sunrise light up the ocean.   Suddenly, the field work I was cursing not two hours before becomes the luckiest job the world – and I remember just why I wanted to do marine science in the first place.

by Amanda Kahn, Invertebrate Zoology and Molecular Ecology Lab

Summertime at the labs is an industrious time, with many of us working hard on our thesis projects while we don’t have to worry about classes. Our time here at MLML is divided into two major stages: the stage when we take classes like oceanography, laboratory techniques, and background classes (like marine botany or a class about birds, turtles, and mammals), and the stage when we work on our own research project. The class stage is really important–it allows us to choose what field interests us, and what kinds of research are going on in that field. We take the classes so we can learn about a field and start asking questions. We keep asking questions and learning more until finally our questions can’t be answered–because the answers haven’t been figured out yet. That is where the thesis research comes in!

Once we come up with a question that is interesting to us and unknown in the world so far, then we design a research project and follow the steps of the scientific method to address that question to the best of our abilities. It’s a little sample of what scientific research is like. From doing a thesis project, we students can figure out if we are interested in becoming scientific researchers or if we prefer non-research science pursuits.

Even if a student ultimately decides not to go into research, however, everyone conducts research while they are here at MLML. That is why the hallways are quiet right now–everyone is holed up in their labs working on their research projects, or sitting at home reading about possible project ideas.

Or, the hallways may just be quiet because it’s summer and the beach is only a 5 minute walk away…

by Erin Loury, Ichthyology

Klutzes like me have to look lively when boarding a boat.  The first rule of thumb is to mind your space, because it’s at a premium!  Heavy equipment, sharp things and moving parts can be around every corner, people are hurrying past you to get to their stations, and to top it off, the whole shebang is typically rocking under your feet with the waves.

Last summer, I spent 10 days at sea aboard an 85-foot fishing boat as part of a trawling survey for the National Marine Fisheries Service (NMFS). Just getting on board was something of an adventure.   The whole “Mind the gap” philosophy definitely applies when jumping from pier to boat, to boat, while ducking under railings and passing gear over a narrow-but-steep drop to the water below.   And I quickly learned once I stepped inside that there’s generally not a lot of personal space.   Three scientists, three crew, and one bathroom (or head, as you’d say on a boat) – you do the math.

Surprisingly, bathroom time was not much of an issue, but the sleeping arrangements sure were cozy.  My bunk became even smaller once I wedged in my bulky survival suit – about the size of a large sleeping bag – so that it would be handy to grab should any Titanic-style drama ensue.   Fortunately, except for one safety drill, there it stayed and provided something of a lumpy backrest.

My first night at sea was probably the roughest.  We left port about 4 pm and were steaming through the night to get to our first trawling location on the southern California coast.  The way the bunks were laid across the boat caused me to rock slightly from head to toe like I was lying on a seesaw – not at all conducive to falling sleep.  I found myself suddenly commiserating with immigrants of yesteryear crossing rough seas to the new world, enduring seasick nights in their crammed quarters. Oh dear, I thought. This is going to be a long 10 days.

Luckily, after my first full day at sea, my nerves – and my stomach – quieted down.  Between the crew rapping on the walls at 3 am to switch out their turns on watch, to the 6 am wake-up as the winch let out a hydraulic squeal to set the first net, I was more than ready to fall asleep at the end of each long day.   And never once did I tumble out of my bunk in the middle of the night.