Will Fennie in the field collecting data. Photo Source: Will Fennie
Whether it be out in the field or inside the lab, conducting research is often what people imagine as the highlight of science. However, once that research is completed, then what? For many scientists, it’s the impact of their research that is viewed as a true career highlight. MLML alum, Will Fennie, had his first taste of this success when research from his Master’s thesis contributed to a well-publicized paper on juvenile rockfish and ocean acidification.
If you read my previous blog post, you may remember that I spent my summer out on Santa Catalina Island at the Wrigley Marine Science Center (WMSC), a research facility owned and operated by the University of Southern California (USC). While there, I began my thesis research examining the effect of male limitation on the reproductive output of blackeye gobies, a temperate sex-changing fish. While we were able to successfully set up the project, we were unable to collect any useable data.
A blackeye goby (Rhinogobiops nicholsii). My study species for this project. Source: Ron's Critter of the Day.
Undeterred, we returned to WMSC this past January in an attempt to get the project up and running again. The artificial reefs we had built and used this past summer were still in place so our first order of business was to collect some fish. To get my project going, we would need to catch approximately 500-700 blackeye gobies. Much to our dismay, we found that the number of blackeye gobies on the surrounding natural reefs was too low to continue with the project in the winter. On the first few dives at our collection sites, we didn’t see any blackeye gobies.
Dr. Mark Steele (one of the principal investigators on this project) has been working with gobies around Catalina Island for the majority of his career and had never seen abundances this low before. If you recall from my previous post, the major problem that we had with blackeye gobies this summer was that they didn’t want to spawn. We think that this may have been due to the incredibly warm water temperatures this summer. If our fish weren’t spawning, it’s very likely that the natural populations of blackeye gobies weren’t spawning as well. This may have been what caused the low numbers of blackeye gobies that we saw in January.
I will be returning to WMSC this summer in another attempt to obtain some useable data. I am confident that this field season will provide more favorable results as long as there are a sufficient number of gobies for use in this study. While it’s likely that the water temperatures will still be warm, moving the reefs deeper in the water column (to 60 feet as opposed to the 30 feet that they were at last summer) may help combat this.
I’m looking forward to spending another summer out on Catalina and can’t wait to get back in the water again!
The beautiful view from the helipad at Wrigley Marine Science Center (WMSC).
Funny story: I started writing this blog post a month ago, and then was so blindsided by the fury of end-of-semester squeeze that I've only now just gotten around to finishing it. Perhaps you can empathize, and in so doing forgive me my lack of posting. But(!), I've decided to keep it as is. If anything, the benefit of time makes it a bit more complete.
It's a Thursday night around 9:30, and I have just been rudely awakened from an unintentioned nap on my couch. It's my phone buzzing, eager to alert me to the fact that a coworker is requesting a cover at my job as a baker, which runs from 2-7...in the morning. I rise from my supine position and contemplate my schedule: the day which is now drawing to a close began with the sun. I had class from nine to noon, a meeting with my lab supervisor, some lab chores, and a guest seminar in the afternoon, and then I was racing the sunset to collect data in the field for a class project. I started my analysis, putting me home around 8, but I'll need to spend the entirety of the next two days bent over a microscope to get it all done before I dash off to Sacramento for an ecological conference.
"The Thinker," as interpreted by a marine biologist.
So no, I will not be available to cover a shift for work. As I curse myself for having slept in my contacts and consider the day's last coffee, I'm reminded of what we refer to in climbing as Factor 2 fun. There's a whole spectrum and methodology to this, but the general principle is that when something isn't fun to do, but is fun to recall later, it's Factor 2. Which explains, for instance, how one of my favorite climbs I've ever done was in Smith Rock, Oregon, many hundreds of feet high (it took hours), and I wept audibly for most of it. And maybe, it's an apt description for the last three months of life at Moss Landing. For the first time, I have that inevitable thought that every single graduate student in the annals of history had tossed around: “What, in the name of all that is good in this world, have I gotten myself into?”
But before I plant the dagger entirely too far in the heart of academic pursuit, a little context, if you please. I think it's worth discussing the reasons for being so busy. Because when the days are filled up with field trips and research cruises and diving in kelp forests, you can't really complain too much. So, if the goal of my involvement in this blog is to chronicle a “day in the life,” I figured I'd take a little time to talk about my various classes. You can not only get a sense of the process, but also a little background information on the classes themselves, if you're eyeing Moss Landing as a potential graduate school.
Marine Ecology (MS 103)
We put in some early mornings on the John Martin.
This class has been all about tangible skill development, in the sense that each lab is meant to familiarize us with a particular piece of equipment, research technique, or aspect of experimental design. It's fairly hands off, in the sense that once we obtain the data for each experiment the handling of it is left largely up to us. We're expected to coordinate as a class and it's a nice contrast to our individual research projects for the course, during which we are almost entirely self-reliant. I'm working on a parasitic trematode infecting a non-native estuarine snail that we have here in Moss Landing, which plays in well to my lab's theme of invasive species.
Science!
As to the experiments themselves, we've performed chlorophyll analysis of mud samples from the harbor, we've done sampling design using quadrats and UPC (Uniform Point Contact) to monitor motile (moving) and sessile (non-moving) species abundance. We chartered the university's largest boat, the John Martin, to go out trawling and see what we could bring up (result: a lot). And we got our hands dirty dissecting all the bugs and critters out of kelp holdfasts (the "root" of kelp plants that holds it to the rock).
Geological Oceanography (MS 141)
I approached this class a bit tepidly, mostly because I didn't really see much relevance to whatever thesis I might come up with. I'm an invertebrate molecular ecologist. But, I took a marine geology class as an undergraduate and really enjoyed it, and the alternative was physical oceanography, the uttering of which causes me to break into hives.
Class fieldtrip to Pinnacles National Park.
Fortunately, I've been similarly pleased with this foray into geology. The class is interesting and engaging, our professor knowledgeable and eccentric, and I feel a certain affinity for the “fly by the seat of your pants” way this course proceeds. The syllabus is never up-to-date, but that's generally because we're trading out a lecture on igneous rocks for an overnight fieldtrip to Point Reyes. It's plastic, much like the convecting mantle churning away below our feet. I've come, in this way, to learn a lot about places I've been visiting for years. Suddenly a tidepooling excursion on West Cliff in Santa Cruz isn't just about how many crabs I can torment. It includes phrases such as “Miocene authigenic carbonate vent structures” and “biosiliceous unit.” There's an intricate relationship between the geology of a region and its associated ecosystem, and I gravitate towards the multiscopic lens that interdisciplinary approaches lend to a discerning eye.
Samples of cores taken from Elkhorn Slough.
For my class project, we went out to take sediment cores from Elkhorn Slough, a process that was entirely new and exciting for me. We managed to nab about 1,500 years of history, and what it tells us is that the slough, like any habitat, is largely dynamic through time. While human hands have altered it pretty drastically in the last century, the slough was once a lagoon, an estuary, and a nearshore environment, each with its own chemical and biological signature. In an artistic sense, I find the cores to be quite beautiful.
Marine Science Diving (MS 105)
The Scientific Dive class tests out our species ID skills at the Monterey Bay Aquarium.
A class where all you do is dive, what's not to love? This is the class you take if you want to be able to dive for research here at Moss (or beyond), as it awards you with your AAUS (American Academy of Underwater Sciences) Scientific Diver certification. Over the course of the semester it touches upon underwater sampling methodology, species identification, and general diver competence. But really, it's just a class where we talk about diving while eating and then go diving, which has been pretty spectacular. I've been diving locally for years, but through 105 I've added several new dive sites to my roster: Hopkins, Stillwater Cove, Butterfly House, Del Monte Beach, and even the kelp tank exhibit at the Monterey Bay Aquarium! Having dove around the world, I can honestly say that nothing touches my watery heart quite like a healthy kelp forest does.
The Other Stuff
Portrait of lab work, complete with Boba Fett mug.
And then there's all the other Moss Landing-centric stuff that I've gotten up to that are outside of my classes. I took a boating course to be able to drive the whalers we have available for research. I fainted during it, but we'll pretend it's due to the innate beauty of the four-stroke engine we were learning about and not the truth, which is that I'm incapable of “adulting” properly. In any case, the small boats crew has earned my eternal gratitude, and I've been continuously impressed by their approachability and skill at what they do. It's a goal of mine to get more involved in boat operation while here at Moss, and I love that they make it easy for students to get access to and experience with boats. My time on the water has been some of my favorite at Moss Landing thus far.
A nudibranch we found during a kelp holdfast dissection.
November marked the annual meeting of the Western Society of Naturalists (WSN). You can read about it HERE . I'll just add in my bit to say it was a great way to bring scientists together in a creative space. WSN is the platform from which many graduate students present their first poster or give their first talk. I'm hoping I'll be on the docket before long. Next year is the 100th anniversary of the society, being held in Monterey, and promises to be quite the affair.
Lastly, I'm working in my lab, as all students do. For someone who works in an invertebrate molecular ecology lab, I have staggeringly little experience in molecular technique. So, it's definitely been a learning exercise. Over the last three months I've been trained in DNA extraction, which along with subsequent sequencing is the bread and butter of what my lab does. It involves a lot of pipetting, which is...difficult for someone with my level of caffeine consumption. But it's been really exciting to be involved in science that is being conducted in real-time, that is tangible and meaningful.
As we speak I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Las Vegas, contemplating the upcoming year and trying to coalesce a thesis topic out of thin air. It's still a bit early to say, but all signs seem to be pointing towards my involvement with a grant we have aimed at studying biodiversity and promoting education among international scientists. I think this is a good fit for me, as I loved tutoring and think science can always benefit from an atmosphere of inclusion.
Here's to some warm-water diving in 2016.
If it all pans out as I hope it does, 2016 will start with a(nother) trip to Thailand to visit my better half, followed by a 2-week research trip down to Baja California Sur in the spring, and then a summer visit to somewhere in Southeast Asia as part of the aforementioned grant to promote proper research techniques to undergraduates. I've also been elected as Secretary of the Student Body here at Moss, am charged with running the bake sale at the open house, and applied for a job as a Program Assistant for Friends of Moss Landing Marine Lab, who helps raise necessary funding to keep the labs running. So...busy is really the only word I can summon. Stay tuned, dear readers, and we will see what is to become of me. And Happy New Years! I hope 2016 is shaping up well for everyone.
This past summer began like any good summer does…with a trip to my favorite taco stand. After driving south from Monterey, I had finally arrived in Los Angeles. Five hours of driving (and waking up far earlier than I would have preferred) had caused me to develop a serious hankering for some carne asada topped with onion and cilantro. Three tacos later, I was finally full and continued south to San Pedro where I made my way aboard the Miss Christi. This 45-foot boat is owned and operated by the University of Southern California (USC) and would be taking me to my home for the summer, Santa Catalina Island (often just called Catalina).
The Wrigley Marine Science Center, my home for the summer. Photo by Dr. Mia Adreani.
Two hours and 22 miles later, the Miss Christi was pulling into Big Fisherman’s Cove on the northeast end of Catalina. This cove is home to the Wrigley Marine Science Center (WMSC), an environmental research and education facility owned by USC. For the next three months, I would be working on my thesis research here.
My work this summer focused on how size-selective harvesting affects the reproductive output of sex-changing fish. Specifically, I’m interested in fish that are called protogynous hermaphrodites. This is a fancy way of saying that these fish are born female and change into males later in life. In the species that I worked with this summer, blackeye gobies (Rhinogobiops nicholsii), this sex change is largely governed by social cues. Typically, a single male will have a harem of females that he spawns with. When the male is removed, the most dominant (usually the biggest) female will change sex and become the new male.
The species that I would be working with this summer, the blackeye goby (Rhinogobiops nicholsii).
Many commercial and recreational fisheries tend to target the largest fish in a population. This is especially problematic with protogynous hermaphrodites since most of the largest individuals in a population are male. This size-selective fishing tends to skew gender ratios in favor of females in exploited populations. My research is trying to figure out at what gender ratio do males start to limit reproductive output (i.e. populations start to produce less new fish). Do we start to see this limitation when there is 1 male for every 5 females? What about 1 male for every 20 females? This is what I’m trying to figure out.
California sheephead (Semicossyphus pulcher) is a popular protogynous hermaphrodite that is the target of multiple fisheries. Size-selective harvesting has led to skewed gender ratios in some heavily exploited populations. Eventually I hope to apply the findings from my research to economically-important species like California sheephead. Photo by Monterey Bay Aquarium.
To test this, artificial reefs were constructed and fish were placed on each reef. Each reef had different gender ratios to simulate varying levels of exploitation (fish with fewer males were more “exploited”). The fish would then (in theory) lay their eggs which would then be examined for fertilized and unfertilized eggs (unfertilized eggs can be distinguished from fertilized eggs based on their cloudy, white appearance). The number of unfertilized and fertilized eggs would then be compared between the different gender ratios. The higher the proportion of unfertilized eggs, the stronger the male limitation.
Tyler Gerome swimming by one of our completed reefs! Photo by Dr. Mia Adreani.
So first things first, we had to build our reefs. A total of 20 reefs were constructed that consisted of cinder blocks and rocks. We collected our rocks from a nearby beach and dropped them (along with our cinder blocks) onto the seafloor in buckets attached to ropes. This was easily the most labor intensive part of the project but was also incredibly gratifying to see these reefs get built from nothing. Cages made out of wire mesh were placed over these reefs to prevent predators from eating our blackeye gobies. We also placed overturned terra cotta flowerpot saucers on each reef. Blackeye gobies readily lay eggs on the underside of these which would make it easy to quantify the number of fertilized and unfertilized eggs.
Tyler Gerome, Alexis Estrada, and Dr. Scott Hamilton collecting rocks that would later be used to construct our reefs. Photo by Dr. Mia Adreani.Dr. Mark Steele and graduate student Alexis Estrada constructing one of the cages that would be going over our reefs. Photo by Dr. Mia Adreani.
Once the reefs were built, we had to put fish on them! Using hand nets and SCUBA gear, we went out to local reefs to collect fish from native populations. Fortunately, blackeye gobies aren’t the brightest fish in the sea and could be easily caught by slowly placing our nets over them as they sat on the sand (they like to hangout on the interface between rocky reef and sand). For me, this was the most fun part of the whole project. By the end of the summer, I believe we had caught around 1,000 blackeye gobies. Suffice to say, I was counting blackeye gobies rather than sheep as I drifted off to sleep each night.
Erika Nava collecting gobies for our reefs! Photo by Dr. Mia Adreani.
We would then return to the lab at WMSC where the gobies were tagged using visual implant elastomer (VIE) tags. These VIE tags are a liquid that is injected underneath the skin. After injection, the liquid cures into a pliable solid that can be easily seen through transparent tissue. These tags allowed us to quickly identify the size and sex of each individual. This was important as we would regularly check up on the fish to make sure that the desired gender ratios for each reef were maintained.
Determining sex, measuring length, and tagging our gobies in the lab! Photo by Alexis Estrada.A VIE tagged blackeye goby on one of the reefs that we built. You can see the tag directly beneath the dorsal fin on the fish's "back".
Once tagged, we released our gobies onto our artificial reefs. We had 20 reefs with 20 fish on each reef. We had 10 different gender ratios (each gender ratio is a different “treatment”) which ranged from 1 male:19 females to 10 males:10 females. Each gender ratio was represented on 2 reefs (these are what we call “replicates”). Once the gobies were released on to the reefs the bulk of our work was done! All that was necessary now was to monitor the saucers for eggs and to maintain the desired gender ratios.
Unfortunately, our gobies didn’t want to cooperate with us. They weren’t laying eggs and without eggs (to compare the proportion of unfertilized eggs between different reefs) we didn’t have any data! We aren’t 100% sure why they weren’t spawning but the leading theory is that the water was too warm. There were some days that temperatures on the bottom were as warm as 70F! That’s just how things go in this field sometimes though…it doesn’t always work out.
While everything may not have gone according to plan this past summer, I still learned a bunch. While I may not have collected any data that I can use for my thesis, I learned what will and what won’t work for this project. I learned how I can streamline the project and I have no doubt that everything will run much smoother in the future. And the most important thing of all, I learned that my advisor has some wicked moves on the dance floor. I look forward to returning to Catalina Island this summer to continue my thesis research.
Erika Nava and me on the surface before one of our collection dives.
Before I sign off, I wanted to thank Dr. Mark Steele, Dr. Mia Adreani, Dr. Will White and my awesome advisor, Dr. Scott Hamilton, who were the reason this project got off the ground in the first place. My research is part of a larger NSF project that the four of them are conducting that will be taking place at Catalina over the next two years. I’d also like to thank our wonderful assistant researchers/volunteers: Alexis Estrada, Tyler Gerome, Katie Neylan, and Erika Nava. They were out there every day with us busting their butts to get this work done. And last but not least, I’d like to thank the Wrigley Marine Science Center and the wonderful people that work there. Without all of these people, none of this would have been possible. See you guys next summer!
All of the amazing people involved with this project! From left to right: Hudson (Scott's son), Dr. Scott Hamilton, Dr. Will White, Erika Nava, Sam Ginther, Alexis Estrada, Dr. Mark Steele, Katie Neylan, Tyler Gerome, Dr. Mia Adreani, and me!
Have you ever heard of the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary? If not, I bet you've stepped foot in the Sanctuary! If you've ever gone to the beach and stuck your toes into Monterey Bay waters (like many of our MLML graduate students have time and time again), you're in the Sanctuary! A National Marine Sanctuary is like a National Park or Forest, except that the protected area is underwater, starting at the high tide line. There are a total of fourteen Sanctuaries in United States' waters, including four along the California coast (from south to north): Channel Islands, Monterey Bay, Gulf of the Farallones, and Cordell Bank National Marine Sanctuaries. Like Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary (MBNMS), the other Sanctuaries were created to ensure that as we utilize the ocean's resources available to us, we also work toward sustainable practices and habitat protection.
The fourteen National Marine Sanctuaries in the United States. One of the fourteen locations (Papahanaumokuakea) is designated a Marine National Monument. Photo Credit: NOAA.
MBNMS was established in 1992, in part thanks to the efforts of a grass roots campaign by Santa Cruz citizens who wanted to ensure that no offshore drilling would occur along this stretch of coastline, which is an essential area to both many different marine species and humans alike. It protects 276 miles of California's coast (almost 1/4 of our state's coastline!) and more than 6000 square miles of the Pacific Ocean and its inhabitants, and it stretches from San Francisco to Cambria.
Those of us living near the MBNMS are aware of its importance, but others around the globe may not be as informed. That's where "Big Blue Live" comes in - it's a production by the BBC and PBS, on August 31st to September 2nd at 8:00PM PT, and it will highlight all the amazing features of the MBNMS. The BBC has been filming here in the MBNMS for the past couple weeks, and will continue to throughout "Big Blue Live" to highlight all the amazing aspects of the MBNMS. Be sure to tune in to PBS starting tomorrow (KQED is our local PBS channel for NorCal) and check out the wonders of our Sanctuary!!
Some of our faculty members were consulted by the BBC for "Big Blue Live." Jim Harvey, MLML's director and marine mammal expert, and Dave Ebert, MLML's expert on sharks, skates, and rays, have served as information sources regarding natural history of these animals. Numerous specimens have been borrowed from our museum collection such as birds, whale bones, baleen and shark jaws. They've also borrowed our 3D model of the Monterey Bay and its submarine canyon. Dave Ebert has provided guidance on juvenile great white sharks that have been spotted in the area over recent weeks, and his student Catarina Pien has been a resource for elasmobranchs in Elkhorn Slough.
It's essential for us to understand the importance of the MBNMS, not only to protect its inhabitants - which include 34 marine mammal species, 94 different species of marine birds, about 350 species of fish and 450 species of algae, and thousands of invertebrate species - but also to learn from our past mistakes. Many of the animal populations are on the rebound from being hunted by humans in the past centuries.
Sea otters were hunted for their luxurious fur, which has one million hairs per square inch, and whales were hunted for their blubber for meat and oils that were often used in lamps that lined the streets. Local fish and invertebrates that we often enjoy at restaurants were also hunted without foresight into how the populations may suffer in the future. Now, with the MBNMS intact, all of these animal populations are on the rebound, thanks to a better understanding of sustainability and better fishing practices.
Us locals know how breathtakingly beautiful our Sanctuary is, and it's great that we're getting some global spotlight on the wondrous Monterey Bay. Thanks to the BBC and PBS, the videos of humpbacks breaching and sea otters eating clams will promote the central message of the Sanctuary, "To understand and protect the coastal ecosystem and cultural resources of Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary," to others globally. Hopefully "Big Blue Live" will attract visitors from all over who will recreate and enjoy visiting the Sanctuary while also understanding and respecting the history of Monterey Bay.
So, tune in to your local PBS station to watch "Big Blue Live" and to find out more about the MBNMS!
Below are a bunch of links about "Big Blue Live" for you to check out:
Dr. Valerie Loeb is an adjunct professor at Moss Landing Marine Labs. Currently, she functions as an independent Antarctic ecosystem research scientist collaborating with Jarrod Santora of UC Santa Cruz. In April, she headed out to sea with a new NSF funded project entitled “Pilot Study: Addition of Biological Sampling to Drake Passage Transits of the ‘LM Gould'”. The following are updates from the field by Jamie Sibley Yin who is in charge of communications.
05/02/15 - Fish for Days
Palmer sunrise.
We are on another fishing trip. We left a day early from station because the seawater pumps failed in the Palmer Station aquarium and all the fish died. It was tragic, and the need for more fish was urgent. Since this leg of the cruise was dedicated to the fishing group, and we were not sampling, I was left with little to do and so helped with the fishing efforts. This included deploying the pots and trawling.
First we deployed the pots, which are left out for 24 hours. We had to prepare bait for the bait bags that lure the fish into the pots. The bait is hung on the mesh inside of the pots by large, industrial safety pins. The irresistible smell of slightly rotten fish lures the Notothenia coriiceps (one of their target fish) into the metal pots. I use a large kitchen knife to slice mackerel and sardine into chunks. The partially frozen fish are easy to chop but some of the fish have thawed, instead of creating firm bite size pieces of fish, my knife mashes them, brown guts ooze onto the plywood I’m using as a cutting board.
Over 100 lbs of fish later, and the bait bags are done. The marine technicians (MTs) load them into the pots. The pots are then lined up on the back deck of the ship in preparation to be pushed off into the water. They are kept close together in their groups of four, the rope that links them together is coiled atop each one. We move them as a unit, which means four people need to move them at the same time. It takes all my body weight to shove the pot across the deck into the line. They are pushed into the water by the MTs, we will retrieve them in a day.
The LMG Olympics are here, aka time to pull in the fish pots. Deploying them is pretty straightforward but pulling them up is a whole other kettle of fish. It takes six MTs and four scientists to coordinate the reeling in, and unloading of the pots. The boat gets as close to the pots as it can and then drifts towards them. Once the head MT, Jack, thinks the boat is close enough, he takes a four-pronged hook and lassos the buoy. The buoy has a GPS on a pole attached to two large orange balls, which are in turn attached to a set of pots. There are four sets of pots--16 in total. The buoy and balls are hauled onto the deck, coils of blue rope are reeled in and set aside. The 1st pot comes up, it’s full of fat Nototheniids, their pectoral fins splayed, trying to stabilize themselves as we roll the pot over the deck, their mouths agape as they gasping for water. Kristin, one of the PIs, unlatches and rips open the pot and hands me a wriggling fish. Its’ whole body flops in protest, mouth wide, I hold it like a baby and walk swiftly to the aquarium room where I drop it into one of the tanks.
Squid and pteropod.
Trawling is exciting because of the sea life that is pulled onto the deck from the ocean depths. Hundreds of sea stars, milky white octopuses, bryozoans, sea cucumbers, wriggling spiky amphipods, gelatinous tunicates—my eyes can’t pick out everything in the tangled squirmy mass hauled on to the deck. I go to bed as images of sea spiders and mystery fish flash through my mind. I could have spent hours picking through the by-catch, commanding the creatures to identify themselves.
Although MLML has some great resources on campus, students also occasionally have opportunities to get out of central California and do some work in other areas. Some of you may remember my post about my time in the Gulf of California last year with MLML’s “Baja class” where I studied herbivorous fishes. Well, I was given the opportunity to go back to Baja earlier this year to build upon the study that I began previously. In mid-June, I was part of a research team with two other MLML students and our dive safety officer / research faculty, Dr. Diana Steller, to help out on some projects through UC – Santa Cruz and to work on the herbivore project.
Because we needed to transport some large supplies, including scuba tanks and the field air compressor (to fill up the scuba tanks), we needed to drive down and back again this year. Although it sounds tough, the drive is only 3-4 days, and it’s definitely part of the adventure!
Just after sunset at our desert campsite in Cataviña, Baja California.Driving isn’t too bad when you get to camp at sites such as this at Playa Requesón! Photo by Heather Fulton-Bennett
We made it safely to the island (and we even made great time, too!) and were ready to begin our work, which included studies of hawksbill turtles and their habitat, as well as studies of herbivorous fishes in the area. In order to study herbivorous fishes for this project, we first needed to conduct fish surveys to quantify fishes at multiple sites around our base at El Pardito. These surveys were part of a joint effort to survey the benthic habitats as well, and were therefore conducted in small groups, with one person surveying fish, one measuring algae, and another taking photographs of the rocky bottom.
Although the goal of fish surveys is to count and size fishes, they require a lot of underwater writing!
This year, in addition to fish and benthic surveys, we also placed a camera underwater to see what types of fishes we could capture on film when divers weren’t present. We’re still analyzing the data, but here’s a sneak peak of some visitors to our cameras!
An azure parrotfish, Scarus compressus, swimming by the camera. Note the rockin’ algal mustache.It wasn’t just herbivores that swam by, as demonstrated by this barred pargo (snapper), Hoplopagrus guentherii. (But notice the bluechin parrotfish, Scarus ghobban, in the background?)
Although we travel to these remote places to do work, and we tend to work hard in order to cram as much science into our limited time, some events are too special to pass up taking a few minutes off to experience. On this trip, that happened to be a large school of small fishes that passed by a few hundred feet offshore from the island. As this was within swimming distance, I took the opportunity to snorkel out and see it firsthand.
Although it looks almost like a cloud or shadow from far away……when you get closer, you can see that it’s actually made of thousands of small fish!
Supposedly, yellowtail jacks and even a marlin were spotted darting in and out of this giant ball of fish, but I was the only visitor at the time when I was out there. After this short break, it was back to work until we were greeted by another beautiful sunset over the Baja peninsula. Before long, it was time to head back home to California, but not after we had collected plenty of great data and made numerous amazing memories from our short time in Baja.
Dr. Valerie Loeb is an adjunct professor at Moss Landing Marine Labs. Currently, she functions as an independent Antarctic ecosystem research scientist collaborating with Jarrod Santora of UC Santa Cruz. In April, she headed out to sea with a new NSF funded project entitled "Pilot Study: Addition of Biological Sampling to Drake Passage Transits of the 'LM Gould'". The following are updates from the field by Jamie Sibley Yin who is in charge of communications.
04/26/15 - Let’s Get Physical
Everyone decorated Styrofoam cups and we attached them in a mesh bag to the CTD. They went down to 4000m. The air in the cups is compressed and thus shrinks the cup size.
This week’s research has been dedicated to the physical oceanographers onboard. These scientists from Scripps Institute of Oceanography, Caltech, and Princeton are studying how water masses interact in the Antarctic. They accomplish this by recording temperature, salinity, and chlorophyll levels at different depths within the water column using a variety of instruments. The area they are sampling is back in Drake Passage--about a 40 hour steam from Palmer.
The instruments they have used are expendable bathy thermographs (XBTs), conductivity temperature depth censors (CTDs), and a glider, which they are recovering. Gliders are autonomous underwater vehicles (AUV) that are controlled remotely. At the beginning of the cruise they used XBTs to measure abiotic (physical) factors along the south-bound transit line across Drake Passage. XBTs are silver, oblong instruments about the size of a water bottle that are “shot” from the side of the boat. They take measurements as they fall to the ocean floor and send data back to the ship, relayed through a copper wire. XBTs are not recovered and rest forever on the ocean bottom.
This is the CTD (an instrument that measures conductivity, temperature and depth) getting ready to enter the water.
The group is now using conductivity temperature depth censors (CTDs) to record abiotic factors throughout the water column. The CTD machine is a barrel-shaped cage of pvc pipes that surround a carousel of canisters. The CTD lives in the “Baltic” room. To deploy the machine, a two-story door opens and the CTD is pushed out the door into the frigid water. As it descends towards the ocean bottom it transmits data, displayed as zigzagging colored lines on the computer screen. The lines are oxygen, fluorescence, temperature, and salinity. Fluorescence is a measure of primary production. CTD plots give us information about different water masses and their boundaries in the water column. The CTD schedule happens around the clock, therefore the crew and scientists are split into day and night shifts. As I get ready for bed, people are having breakfast and starting their day.
This CTD plot shows how salinity, temperature, oxygen, and fluorescence vary as a function of depth.
The glider recovery was a group effort. The glider is a yellow, torpedo-like, $150,000 instrument. It was left in the Drake four and half months ago to collect temperature and salinity readings at different depths. A GPS signal transmitted from the glider sends its location to a computer at Caltech every 24 hours. We got to its approximate location around 11:30pm. This was the position the glider had last pinged at midnight the night before and had no doubt drifted since that time. We had to wait until midnight again to get a new position. I said I would help look for it with everyone but felt dubious at actually spotting it. The only portion of the glider protruding from the water was an orange stick with a small swath of reflective tape wrapped around it. The whole thing we were trying to spot was about the size of a flare.
The glider being carried inside.
Chances seemed slim. Nonetheless, the 3rd mate, Rob, spotted the glider just as it was getting light, around 7:30am. Someone kept an eye on the location and the zodiacs were manned to retrieve the instrument. Conditions seemed ideal—sunshine, flat water, not a cloud in sight. It felt like we had found a needle in a silver haystack. Half an hour later the zodiacs were still not in the water and everyone had dispersed. Turns out the glider had been lost sight of. Everyone was on the bridge searching anxiously, eyes plastered to binoculars. An hour and a half later, and still no sign of the glider. The GPS said we were basically on top of it but no one could see it. In the meantime the swell had picked up, and sunshine turned to rain. Someone spotted it. Rain turned to sideways sleet. Three people stood outside, pelted by sleet, and pointed at the glider location while the zodiac was (quickly) loaded and deployed. The zodiac came in and out of view as it bobbed over three meter swells. The glider was eventually recovered with only a minor mishap. Guiliana, my friend, and scientist at Caltech was climbing out of the zodiac onto the ladder, a trough came by and she was left hanging on the bottom rung of the ladder, as she pulled herself up another wave came and soaked her to her armpits. The crew hauled her up and threw her on deck. After peeling off her soaked clothes, she led the way in glider inspection and cleaning. All was well, and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.
This was a pod of whales we encountered, there were about 35 of them and about 1500 birds. They were most likely feeding on krill.
Dr. Valerie Loeb is an adjunct professor at Moss Landing Marine Labs. Currently, she functions as an independent Antarctic ecosystem research scientist collaborating with Jarrod Santora of UC Santa Cruz. In April, she headed out to sea with a new NSF funded project entitled “Pilot Study: Addition of Biological Sampling to Drake Passage Transits of the ‘LM Gould'”. The following are updates from the field by Jamie Sibley Yin who is in charge of communications.
April 22, 2015
Euphausia superba: also known as Antarctic krill, these were more than 2 inches in length, also notice the phytoplankon in stomach.
When we unlatched the cod end from the net, gobs of krill poured over the top, I scrambled to catch the wriggling animals in a bucket. The boat was en route to a fish trawling area near Dallmann Bay.
Humpack and fin whales dotted the horizon, seabirds swooped around the bow, plunging into the water to feed. This appeared to be a very productive region especially when coupled with a strong signal from the acoustic Doppler current profiler (ADCP). ADCPs send sound through the water column where it is reflected by sound scattering organisms such as crustaceans and fish with swim bladders. The ADCP at our current location showed a thick layer of nektonic organisms close to the surface. These creatures were most likely attracting the whales and birds, but the only way to know for sure was to conduct some net tows in the area. In contrast to our other tows, which were full of salps, copepods, and chaetognaths, every tow we pulled up was dominated by large Antarctic krill (Euphausia superba). Krill are a vital component to oceans worldwide, as they provide the link between primary production (phytoplankton) and higher-level organisms such as fish and whales.
Fin whales: fin whales near the boat.
We process our samples as soon as they hit the deck. Part of this is measuring krill body lengths. I take out a sample I had stuck in the fridge before dinner. I’m surprised the krill are still alive, swimming on their side around the clear plastic container, their little legs moving furiously. By the time I’m counting chaetognaths and pulling out amphipods, most everything is dead or feebly waving a pleopod. I’m taken aback by the still swimming krill. I pick one up and plop it in my petri dish, it twitches and flicks sea water at me. It’s large dark eyes jerk--I sense that it sees me. I quickly hold it to the ruler, record its’ length and gently place it in another jar, I add a few ice cubes for good measure, the krill buzzes around. I feel a twinge of satisfaction. After measuring a subsample I dump the remainder over the side, secretly hoping a few survive.
Fishing map: where we were fishing.
I’m not alone in my admiration for these robust critters. It was once thought krill could provide a solution to world hunger as they are abundant, low on the food chain, and a good source of protein. Unfortunately their chitin proved hard to remove, and they ended up having toxic levels of fluoride in their tissues. They have been used as cattle and poultry feed, and for farmed salmon to emulate the pink color of their wild counterparts. This pink color is from beta carotenes in the krill’s carapace, which also accounts for the pink feathers of flamencos, who feed on fresh water euphausiids. The latest fad is krill oil-- toted as a health supplement. After reflecting on the great utility of krill, I didn’t feel so silly throwing them back.
Hi everyone! Although I don't have much to show for it just yet, I was asked to write a series of blog posts about my current research trip to Mo'orea and Tetiaroa in the Society Islands of French Polynesia. Talk about a fantastic place to do some fieldwork!
Mo'orea, French Polynesia- my view from the bungalow Photo Source: Emily Schmeltzer
Mo'orea is a small island and coral atoll near Tahiti, and is about 10 miles in width east to west. A coral atoll is formed over tens of thousands of years! Coral begins to grow as a fringing reef on an oceanic island, and as the island landmass is eroded and begins to become submerged, the coral continues to grow and forms a barrier reef. Once enough of the interior island is submerged, it forms a lagoon on the inner part of the barrier reef. You can visualize this formation from the aerial photograph below.
