How to Find a Dead Whale

by Nate Jones, Vertebrate Ecology Lab

STUNNING, isn’t it?

 

Humpback and Shearwaters, Unimak Pass. Photo: NMML

 

The magnificent power, the grace,  the vigor of truly giant life.  BUT, where do whales go when they die??

And, what about all those seals, sea lions, dolphins … heck, walruses, even?!

 

A Walrus carcass makes it into the 300m strip transect! Turns out even veteran at-sea researchers like USFWS Marty Reedy can still be surprised by new experiences. Photo: M. Reedy

What happens to them if they die at sea, as you might expect most of them would do?  To explore this question, we might think to ask a marine scientist (naturally!).  And, of course, there are scientists that are studying dead marine mammals (you aren’t surprised, are you?).  In fact, Moss Landing’s very own Gillian Rhett is focusing her MSc research on dead whales!  Turns out, studying the afterlife of marine mammals is every bit as intriguing as chasing them in the living flesh.  Scientists are  still learning about what happens to these animals after they die, and it’s a remarkable story.

 

Scientists and crew (Nate Jones, among them) encounter a dead Sperm Whale, seen from flying bridge of USFWS R/V Tiglax. Photo: N. Jones

Nate Jones first saw this whale at about 2 km distance; a mysterious, looming chunk of something, floating low in the water, unmistakably immobile in the snotty tumult that is a typical Bering Sea day.  Whatever this thing was, it was large.  And probably of animal origin; there were about half a dozen gulls swarming the area, looking for a free meal.  Sure enough, a Sperm Whale carcass.

You can see how tall tales are born on the high seas!  Some of them are true…

Safe Travels for the Holidays

(photo: E. Loury)

It doesn’t look like these folks from MLML will be running into any rush hour traffic.  They are out on the bay in an inflatable as part of a class field trip.  Trips into the field are just one of many ways MLML students get actively involved in research for classes.

Whale Feeding and Breeding and Migrating – Oh My!

 

A humpback whale in Kodiak, Alaska (photo by Casey Clark)

Casey Clark

By Casey Clark, Vertebrate Ecology Lab

Each year, humpback whales migrate between their feeding areas in high-latitude places such as Alaska, California and Antarctica to their breeding areas in more tropical regions such as Mexico, Hawaii, Central America, and the South Pacific.  This means that during the winter, all of the animals should be in the breeding area and none should be in the feeding area.  It turns out that this isn’t true.  All around the world, people have seen humpback whales in feeding areas during the winter when they are expected to be in the breeding area.  This leads to the following questions:  Who are these animals that spend their winters in the feeding area?  Are they mostly males? Females?  Juvenile animals?  Why would they give up their chance to reproduce for the year?

It was these questions that led me to choose my project.  For my master’s thesis at Moss Landing Marine Labs, I will attempt to answer at least some of them.  To do this, I will look at the animals off the coast of central California, an important feeding area for humpback whales that breed off the coast of Central America.  I will be looking at the sex-ratio (the number of males present compared to the number of females present) and the proportion of juvenile animals (the number of young animals compared to the number of adult animals) in this area throughout the year.  By seeing how the sex-ratio and the proportion of juvenile animals change from summer to winter, I will be able to determine who is using the area in the winter.  For example, if the sex-ratio is 1:1 in the summer (1 male present for every 1 female present) and 1:2 in the winter (1 male present for every 2 females present), I will know that there are more females than males using this area in the winter.

 

Humpback whale in Kodiak, Alaska (photo by Casey Clark)

The different sexes and age groups of humpback whales are known to migrate to the breeding area at different times.  Adult males are the first to begin the migration to the breeding area, followed by non-pregnant females, juvenile animals and finally pregnant females.  This pattern would suggest that female animals in the late-stages of pregnancy remain in the feeding area longer than most other whales.  This theory is supported by observations from the feeding area and during migration, but it has never been confirmed that pregnant females remain in the feeding area longer than most other members of the population.  I will test this theory by determining the pregnancy rates of females found in the feeding area in the late fall and early winter.  If a greater proportion of these females are pregnant than would be expected, this theory would be confirmed.  The identification of this area as critical habitat for these pregnant whales would have profound implications for their conservation and management.

 

Casey and his sampling crossbow

Stay tuned to find out how I find the whales, and then collect samples with a crossbow!

Icy Spring Time

Author: Nate Jones

It’s early June, and there’s still ice in the Bering Sea!  This year the seasonal ice cover has persisted late into the “spring” time.  Much later than in recent years.  In fact, it hasn’t felt much like springtime here on the water; it’s snowed (or, is it frozen fog?) on many days, and the mercury in the thermometer outside pools listlessly at about the 32F mark, even at high noon.  To be sure, the ice is melting, breaking up into pancakes, jumbled, layered, and amalgamated by spring storm waves and wind… but, sloowwly, slowly…  the water is still cold; as cold as the ice itself.  A reluctant catalyst, at best.

(ice) pancakes, anyone? It's June 2nd...

We are surveying on the R/V Thomas Thompson, a University of Washington UNOLS ship.  This is an ice-reinforced vessel, so we can push (carefully!) through this kind of cold slurry in search of oceanographic data.  The scientists on this cruise are primarily interested in measuring the physics and chemistry of the spring ice retreat, and the rich plankton communities that tend to bloom and grow during this transition time.  Like the first spring buds and shoots of green in a garden, the explosion of microscopic marine algae, diatoms, and copepods forms the base of a food web that will sustain all the fish we eat, and the seabirds, seals, and sea lions that also depend on them.  So, this is a very important time of year in the Bering Sea!

Sea Ice

Photo of the Week: Here’s Looking at – Who?

(photo by L. Whitman, submitted by and B. Hoover and N. Jones)

Counting birds is harder than its sounds when your place of observation is the ocean, not a bird feeder.  This week’s photo features Brian Hoover of the Vertebrate Ecology Lab up in Alaska looking for a clue – to what drives seabird distribution, that is.  Brian and Nate Jones, a Drop-In regular, spent several weeks on the Bering Sea this summer recording where and when they spotted seabirds, as well as gathering data on bird prey and oceanography patterns.

If you have a good caption for this illustrious researcher hard at work, submit it as a comment. We’ll post our favorite!

Just what kinds of birds might Brian be counting? Check out Nate’s previous posts on the Bering Sea to find out!

Safety at Sea

Author: Nate Jones

by Nate Jones, Vertebrate Ecology Lab

(still in the Bering Sea)   … Of course the bad weather I’ve been writing about was nothing compared to what happens on the Bering during the months of February or March, and the Gold Rush fishes regularly during that time of year, so I had complete faith in the seaworthiness of the ship and the judgment and skill of the crew.  I took comfort in that thought, and stumbled down to my bunk for what became a grueling 72 hours of bumps, rolls, and queasy stomachs.  During this stormy time the crew exchanged watches at the helm, keeping the ship pointed into the fury.

Bumpy Bering Sea

We all hoped for the best, but by the time the seas had calmed to (a more manageable?) 8-10’, the hungry ocean had damaged and ripped off much of our scientific equipment, snapping several ¼” steel bolts and ripping welds clean apart!

The Gold Rush itself weathered this storm in fine shape (wish we could say the same of our scientific equipment!), and there were no major injuries to anyone on board.  It really was quite a minor event in the context of the Bering Sea; just another blowy, bumpy day or two out on the water.

Another day at "the office" for a marine scientist

But, it impressed me and I couldn’t help contemplating darker scenarios – what happens when there is a true emergency?  What if someone had been swept overboard, or, worse yet, what if the ship itself had been damaged or taken on water and started to go down?  Such things do happen, although not as frequently now as they have in the past (coast guard regulations and improvements in technology and crew training have contributed to much increased safety).

In my next post I’ll put up some images from training exercises that are routinely undertaken to help prepare crew and passengers (scientists) for emergencies at sea…

Neal takes a dip in the Bering Sea

Into the storm

Photo: K. Benoit-Bird

…Our research cruise on the Gold Rush got off to a bumpy start.  We were delayed in leaving Dutch Harbor after working to attach the acoustic equipment, rig up our nets, and wire our electronic devices into the ship’s circuitry.  All this had to be done before hitting the seas to gather any data, but it was tough to know that the clock was ticking.

So, we were impatient when we heard that the ocean would be rough, and we decided to motor out anyway and get going on our course.  As it turned out, we probably should have stayed in port, gone for beers and a hotel room, and waited for the water to calm down; We did not collect much usable data during that first 72 hours anyway!

A good sign of our impending experience was the ship’s barometer.  Keep in mind that anything under 29.92 is considered, on average, a “low” pressure event, and is likely associated with stormy weather…

Photo: C. Waluk

The waves and wind slammed us as soon as we rounded the last point of land and pushed into the open Bering Sea waters.  The ship pitched and plunged, leaving us weightless, even as we braced and grabbed with our hands.  Everything that was not bolted or strapped down began to slip, slide, and slam every which way.  The Gold Rush turned into the storm, facing torrents of spray and heaving mountains of slate gray water.

Photo: N. Jones

Up and up we would rise, pushing through choppy, liquid cornice crests, only to plunge steeply into dark troughs.

The height of the ship's rail is approx. 15' above waterline...

Even the captain, Bert Ashely, who has 30 years’ fishing experience in the Bering Sea, marveled at how unseasonably rough these waters were:  seas of perhaps 12-18’, and winds a sustained 40+ knots.

Photo: N. Jones

Photo: N. Jones

Blog entry: Nate Jones

And yet, it was the middle of summer…

This was how I spent my July 17^th and 18^th.

Bumpy Bering Sea Summer

Don’t trust that twinkle in Jacques Cousteau’s eye!

Jacques Cousteau

Photo: Amanda M.

And, don’t be fooled by the idyllic photo that my friend Amanda M. took at her field site on Palmyra Atoll…

I’m here to remind everyone that Marine Science is not always bikinis, cocktails, warm sand, and sunsets.

(hmmm… should I have read the fine print before signing up?  Shelby, do you need a field assistant in Panama?).

There is much to be studied in the cooler latitudes, and the abundance of marine birds and mammals truly defies description.

Photo: NOAA / NMML

Perhaps the greatest challenge in working at high latitudes is the weather.  Specifically, what the weather can do to you while you’re working on the ocean!

Research time at sea is always an adventure, and usually it is a grand and engaging one at that.  But it can also be tiring, physically uncomfortable, and monotonous… or even a little too thrilling!  A friend of mine that sails frequently describes long ocean crossings as “days of boredom interrupted by moments of absolute terror”.

This summer I spent another 28 days out on the Bering Sea, studying the foraging ecology of seabirds and fur seals.  This was the second and final summer of data collection for my thesis work, which is funded as a component of the North Pacific Research Board’s Patch Dynamics Study http://bsierp.nprb.org/focal/patch.html.

I spent my time on the contracted vessel R/V Gold Rush, which is a 99’ trawler that spends most every day of the year working in the Gulf of Alaska and Bering Seas.

Photo: L. Whitman

As you might expect, this ship is sturdy, well-maintained, and operated by a very skilled and competent crew.  Nonetheless we did encounter some ocean conditions that slowed our progress and reminded us just how small we were…

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Nate Jones

Summer at Sea: Close Quarters

Double parked: Climbing aboard my survey boat (the Noah's Ark, teal color) with my duffel bag was a bit of a gymnastic feat!

Erin Loury

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.

Bunkroom for four – feeling like a packed sardine is probably an appropriate feeling for a fishing survey!

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.

Home sweet bunk - the space to call my own for 10 days.

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.

A once-in-a-lifetime experience in Antarctic waters

Amanda Kahn

by Amanda Kahn, Invertebrate Zoology and Molecular Ecology Lab

Land ho!  Two months ago, I left MLML and California on a flight to Chile to help out on a 40-day research cruise in Antarctica’s Weddell Sea.  During the months leading up to the cruise, I worked dual lives–struggling to keep up with work at school while also making arrangements for travel, going through the necessary medical tests and preliminary cruise preparation, and starting up on my job as a public outreach person on the ship (I wrote a blog, just like my posts here).

Being out at sea for 40 days was an incredible and unique experience.  Many of the things we take for granted on land are just different on a ship (stable ground, for example!).  I was worried about being seasick the entire time, but I got my sea legs after a few days and was able to function just fine in almost any weather.  Since everything on a ship is constantly moving, everything must be tied down or secured to prevent it from sliding around or falling.  Laptop computers were tied down to tables and sat on non-skid mats to protect them–actually, anything that we didn’t want to have slide off the tables sat on non-skid mats, including our dinner plates!  We had safety drills every week, which included fire drills and abandon ship drills.  Also, we only had whatever we brought on the ship with us from the beginning, which meant that for six weeks, we had to make fresh foods last!  Over the course of the cruise, our fresh foods progressed from a salad bar brimming with fresh fruits and veggies to a meager selection of hardy vegetables, like iceberg lettuce and carrots, and finally to preserved foods such as olives, pickles, and canned peaches and pineapple slices.

For the most part, I found life on the ship to be rather exciting, but certain aspects were difficult.  We had no internet connection, and the email system transferred emails by satellite three times a day.  That meant limited contact with people on shore.  It also meant no YouTube, Google, or any other online websites.  The science we did onboard more than  made up for the lack of online entertainment, however.  Trawls through the top 300 meters of water brought up animals like Antarctic krill, salps, jellies, swimming worms, and even swimming snail relatives called pteropods.

Antarctic krill, the main food source for baleen whales that migrate to the Southern Ocean, were collected in trawls.

I’m now back in action at MLML, and ready to write again about what life is like here at the labs. It will be very different from life on the ship, but I think certain things are quite a bit nicer here on land (stable ground, for instance!).