Twitterific: The Importance of Social Media in Science

By Alexa Kownacki, Ph.D. Student, OSU Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab

How do you create the perfect chemical formula for social media in science? (Photo Source: The Royal Society of Victoria)

There’s a never-ending debate about how active we, as scientists, should be on social media. Which social media platforms are best for communicating our science? When it comes to posting, how much is too much? Should we post a few, critical items that are highly pertinent, or push out everything that’s even closely related to our focus? Personally, my deep-rooted question revolves around privacy. What aspects of my life (and thereby my science), do I keep to myself and what do I share? I asked that exact question at a workshop last year, and I have some main takeaways.

At last year’s Southern California Marine Mammal Workshop, there was a very informative session about the role of media in science. More specifically, there was a talk on “Social Media and Communications Hot Topics” by Susan Poulton, the Chief Digital Officer of the Franklin Institute science museum in Philadelphia.  She emphasized how trust factors into our media connections and networks. What was once communicated in person or on paper, has given way to this idea of virtual connections. We all have our own “bubbles”. Susan defined “bubbles” as the people who we trust. We have different classifications of bubbles: the immediate bubble that consists of our friends, family, and close colleagues, the more distant bubble that has your friends of friends and distant colleagues, and the enigma bubble that has people you find based on computer algorithms that the computer thinks you’ll find relative. Susan brought up the point that many of us stay within our immediate bubble; even though we may discuss all of the groundbreaking science with our friends and coworkers, we never burst that bubble and expand the reaches of our science into the enigma bubble. I frequently fall into this category both intentionally and unintentionally.

Coworkers from NOAA’s Southwest Fisheries Science Center attending the Southern California Marine Mammal Workshop 2017. Pictured from left to right: Alexa, Michelle, Holly, and Keiko. (Photo source: Michelle Robbins.)

Many of us want to be advocates for our science. Education and outreach are crucial for communicating our message. We know this. But, can we keep what little personal life we have outside of science, private? The short of the long of it: No. Alisa Schulman-Janiger, another scientist and educator on the panel, reinforced this when she stated that she keeps a large majority of her social media posts as “public” to reach more people. Queue me being shocked. I have a decent social media presence. I have a private Facebook account, but public Twitter and LinkedIn accounts that I use only for science/academics/professional stuff, public Instagram, YouTube, and Flickr accounts that are travel and science-related, as well as a public blog that is a personal look at my life as a scientist who loves to travel. I tell you this because I am still incredibly skeptical about privacy; I keep my Facebook page about as private as possible without it being hidden. Giving up that last bit of my precious, immediate bubble and making it for the world to see feels invasive. But, I’m motivated to make sure my science reaches people who I don’t know. Giving science a personal story is what captures people; it’s why we read those articles in our Facebook feeds, and click on the interesting articles while scrolling through Twitter. Because of this, I’ve begun making more, not all, of my Facebook posts public. I’m more active on Twitter. I’m writing weekly blog posts again (we’ll see how long I can keep that up for). I’m trying to find the right balance that will keep my immediate bubble still private enough for my peace of mind and public enough that I am presenting my science to networks outside of my own—pushing through to the enigma bubble. Bubbles differ for each of us and we have to find our own balance. By playing to the flexibility of our bubbles, we can expand the horizons of our research.

Alexa at an Education/Outreach event, responding to a young student asking, “Why didn’t you bring this seal when it was alive?” (Photo source: Lori Lowder).

This topic was recently broached while attending my first official GEMM Lab meeting. Leigh brought up social media and how we, as a lab, and as individuals, should make an effort to shine light on all the amazing science that we’re a part of. We, as a lab, are trying to be more present. Therefore, in addition to these AMAZING weekly blog posts varying from highly technical to extremely colloquial, the lab will be posting more on Twitter. And that comes to the origin of this week’s blog post’s title. Leigh said that we should be “Twitterific” and I can’t help but feel that adjective perfectly suits our current pursuit. Here’s to being Twitterific!

With all that being said, be sure to follow us on: Twitter, YouTube, and here (don’t forget to follow us by entering your email address on the lefthand side of the page), of course.

New steps towards community engagement: introducing high schoolers to the field

By Florence Sullivan, MSc, GEMM Lab Research Assistant

This summer, I had the pleasure of returning to Port Orford to lead another field season of the GEMM Lab’s gray whale foraging ecology research project.  While our goal this summer was to continue gathering data on gray whale habitat use and zooplankton community structure in the Port Orford region, we added in a new and exciting community engagement component: We integrated local high school students into our research efforts in order to engage with the local community to promote interest in the OSU field station and the research taking place in their community. Frequent blog readers will have seen the posts written by this year’s interns (Maggie O’Rourke Liggett, Nathan Malamud, and Quince Nye) as they described how they became interns, their experience doing fieldwork, and some lessons they’ve learned from the project. I am very impressed with the hard work and effort that all three of them put into making this field season a success.  (Getting out of a warm bed, and showing up at the field station at 6am sharp for five weeks straight is no easy feat for high-schoolers or an undergrad student during summer break!)

Quince hard at work scanning the horizon for whale spouts. photo credit: Alexa Kownacki

During the month of August, our team collected the following data on whale distribution and behavior:

  •  Spent 108 hours on the cliff looking for whales
  • Spent 11 hours actively tracking whales with the theodolite
  • Collected 19 whale tracklines
  • Identified 15 individual whales using photo-ID – Two of those whales came back 3 times each, and one of them was a whale nick-named “Buttons” who we had tracked in 2016 as well.

We also collected data on zooplankton – gray whale prey – in the area:

  • Collected 134 GoPro videos of the water column at the 12 kayak sample sites
  • Did approximately 147 zooplankton net tows
  • Collected 64 samples for community analysis to see what species of zooplankton were present
  • Collected 115 samples for energetic analysis to determine how many calories can be derived from each zooplankton
The 2017 field team. From left to right: Tom Calvanese (Field Station Manager), Florence Sullivan (Project Lead), Quince Nye, Maggie O’Rourke-Liggett, and Nathan Malamud. Photo credit: Alexa Kownacki

Since I began this project in 2015, I have been privileged to work with some truly fantastic interns.  Each year, I learned new lessons about how to be an effective mentor, and how to communicate our research goals and project needs more clearly. This year was no exception, and I worked hard to bring some of the things I’ve learned into my project planning.  As the team can tell you, science communication, and the benefits of building good will and strong community relationships were heavily emphasized over the course of the internship.  Everyone was encouraged to use every opportunity to engage with the public, explain our work, and pass on new things they had learned.  Whenever the team encountered other kayakers out on the water, we took the time to share any cool zooplankton samples we gathered that day, and explain the goals of our research.  Maggie and I also took the opportunity to give a pair of evening lectures at Humbug Mountain State Park, which were both well attended by curious campers.

Florence and Maggie give evening lectures at Humbug Mountain State Park

In addition, the team held a successful final community presentation on September 1 at the Port Orford Field Station that 45 people attended!  In the week leading up to the presentation, Quince and Nathan spent many long hours working diligently on the powerpoint presentation, while Maggie put together a video presentation of “the intern experience” (Click here for the video showcased on last week’s blog).  I am incredibly proud of Nathan and Quince, and the clear and confident manner in which they presented their experience to the audience who showed up to support them.  They easily fielded the following questions:

Q: “How do you tell the difference between a whale that is searching or foraging?”

A: When we look at the boundaries of our study site, a foraging whale consistently comes up to breathe in the same spot, while a searching whale covers a lot of distance going back and forth without leaving the general area.

Q: “How do we make sure that this program continues?”

A: Stay curious and support your students as they take on internships, support the field station as it seeks to provide resources, and if possible, donate to funds that raise money for research efforts.

Nathan talks about the plankton results during the final community presentation. photo credit: Alexa Kownacki
The audience during the final community presntation. photo credit: Alexa Kownacki
Quince and Nathan answer questions at the end of the community presentation. photo credit: Alexa Kownacki

When communicating science, it is important to results into context.  In addition to showcasing the possibilities of excellent research with positive community support, and just how much a trio of young people can grow over the course of 6 weeks, this summer has highlighted the value of long term monitoring studies, particularly when studying long-lived animals such as whales. We saw far fewer whales this summer than compared to the two previous years, and the whales spent much less time in the Port Orford area (Table 1). As a scientist, knowing where whales are not (absence data) is just as important as knowing where whales are (presence data), and these marked differences drive our hypotheses! What has changed in the system? What can explain the differences in whale behavior between years?  Does it have to do with food quality or availability?  (This is why we have been gathering all those zooplankton samples.) Does it have to do with other oceanographic factors or human activities?

Table 1. Summary of whale tracking efforts for the three seasons of field work in Port Orford.   Notice how in 2017 we only collected 194 whale location points (theodolite marks). This is about 92% less than in the previous years.

2015 2016 2017
Hours spent watching 72:49 148:30 108
Hours spent tracking 80:39* 82:30 11
Number of individuals 43 50 15
Number of theodolite marks 2483 2414 194

*we often tracked more than one individual simultaneously in 2015

Long term monitoring projects give us a chance to notice differences between years, and ask questions about what are normal fluctuations in the system, and what are abnormal. On top of that, projects like this create the opportunity for additional internships, and to mentor more students in the scientific method of investigation.  There is so much still to be explored in the Port Orford ecosystem, and I truly hope this program is able to continue.  If you are interested in making a monetary contribution to sustain this research and internship program, donations can be accepted here (gemm lab fund) and here (field station fund).

Quince records zooplankon sample weights in the wet lab.
Quince sorts through a zooplankton sample in the wet lab.
Nathan stores zooplankton community analysis samples
Maggie and Nathan out in the kayak
Quince and Maggie in the kayak
Maggie, Florence and Quince enjoy the eclipse!
Quince and Maggie bundle up on the cliff as they watch for whales.
Nathan and Quince organize data on the computer at the end of the day.
Quince and Nathan build sand castles as we wait for the fog to clear before launching the research kayak

This research and  student internships would not have been possible without the generous support from Oregon Sea Grant, the Oregon Coast STEM hub, the Port Orford Field Station, South Coast Tours, partnerships with the Bernard and Chapman labs, the OSU Marine Mammal Institute, and the Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab.

Through the intern’s eyes; a video log of the 2017 gray whale foraging ecology project.

By: Maggie O’Rourke-Liggett, GEMM lab summer intern, Oregon State University

Enjoy this short video showcasing the intern experience from the gray whale foraging ecology project this summer. Check back next week for a recap of our preliminary results.

New Study Looks to Investigate the Potential Reintroduction of Sea Otters to Oregon

By Dominique Kone, Masters Student in Marine Resource Management

As I begin a new chapter as a grad student in the Marine Resource Management program at Oregon State University, the GEMM Lab is also entering into unchartered waters by expanding its focus to a new species outside the lab’s previous research portfolio. This project – which will be the focus of my thesis – will assess the potential reintroduction of sea otters to the Oregon coast through an examination of available habitat and ecological impacts. Before I explain how this project came to fruition, it’s important to understand why sea otter reintroduction to Oregon is relevant, and why this step is important to advance the conservation of these charismatic species.

While exact historical populations are unknown, sea otters were once abundant along the coasts of northern Japan, across Russia and Alaska, and down North America to Baja California, Mexico[1]. In the United States, specifically, sea otters were native to coastal waters along the entire west coast – including Oregon. However, beginning in the 1740’s sea otters were subject to intense and unsustainable hunting pressure from Russian, British, and American entrepreneurs seeking to sell their highly-valuable pelts in the lucrative fur trade[2].  Historical records suggest these hunters did not arrive in Oregon until the 1780’s, but from that point on the sea otter was exploited over the next several decades until the last known Oregon sea otter was killed in 1906 at Otter Rock, OR[3].

Pictured: Sea otter hunters near Coos Bay, OR in 1856. Photo Credit: The Oregon History Project.

After decades of intense pressure, sea otter numbers dropped to critically low levels and were thought to have gone extinct throughout most of their range. Luckily, remnant populations persisted and were later discovered in parts of Alaska, British Columbia, California, and Mexico beginning in the 1910’s. Since then sea otters have been the focus of intense conservation efforts. With the goal of augmenting their recovery, the Alaska Department of Fish and Game lead a series of translocation projects, where groups of sea otters were transported from Alaska to unoccupied habitats in Alaska, British Columbia, Washington, and Oregon (Note: these were not the only sea otter translocations.)1.

Pictured: Sea otters on glacier ice, northern Prince William Sound, Alaska. Photo Credit: Patrick J. Endres/AlaskaPhotoGraphics.com

Fun Fact: For a marine mammal, sea otters have surprisingly little blubber. Luckily, they also have the densest fur of all animals – an estimated 1,000,000 hairs per square inch – that helps to keep them well-insulated from the cold.

Many of these projects are considered successful as sea otter populations grew, and continue to expand today. With a significant exception: sea otters mysteriously disappeared shortly after reintroduction into Oregon waters and the translocation effort failed. Many hypothesized what could have gone wrong – natural mortality, dispersal, conflicts with humans – but few have concrete answers. Aside from occasional reports of strandings and sightings of sea otters in Oregon coastal waters, no resident populations have formed. This is where my thesis project comes in.

Pictured: Cape Arago, OR – one of the unsuccessful translocation sites along the Oregon coast. Photo Credit: TravelOregon.com

With renewed interests from scientists, tribes, and the public, we are now revisiting this idea from a scientific perspective. Over the next two years, we will work to objectively assess the ecological aspects of sea otter reintroduction to Oregon to identify and fill current knowledge gaps, which will help inform decision-making processes by environmental managers. Throughout this process we will give consideration to not just the ecology and biology of sea otters, but the cultural, economic, and political relevance and implications of sea otter reintroduction. Much of this work will involve working with state and federal agencies, tribes, and other scientists to gain their insights and perspectives, which we will use to shape our research questions and analyses.

The process to move forward with bringing sea otters back to Oregon will no doubt take great effort by a lot of people, consultation, patience, and time. To date, we have been reviewing the relevant literature and meeting with local experts on this topic. Through these activities, we have determined the types of questions and information – suitable habitat and potential ecological impacts – of most need to managers. My goal is to conduct a meaningful, applied project as an objective scientist, and by gaining this type of feedback at the outset, I am to help managers make better-informed decisions. I hope my thesis can serve as a critical starting point to ensure a solid foundation that future Oregon-specific sea otter research can build from.

References:

[1] Jameson et al. 1982. History and status of translocated sea otter populations in North America. Wildlife Society Bulletin. (10) 2: 100-107.

[2] The Oregon History Project: Sea Otter. Accessed September 2017. <https://oregonhistoryproject.org/articles/historical-records/sea-otter/#.WamgT7KGPIU>

[3] The Oregon History Project: Otter Hunting. Accessed September 2017. <https://oregonhistoryproject.org/articles/historical-records/otter-hunting/#.Wa2TCLKGPIU>

 

Seabed mining permit approved in New Zealand blue whale habitat

By Dawn Barlow, MSc Student, Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab

In late February, we wrapped up our 2017 blue whale survey of the South Taranaki Bight region. Upon returning to port in Wellington, Leigh and I each located our one remaining clean shirt, drank a cup of coffee, and walked into a room full of lawyers in suits where Leigh testified in front of the Environmental Protection Authority’s (EPA) Decision Making Committee. The hearing was for Trans-Tasman Resources, Ltd. (TTR)’s application for a permit to extract 50 million tons of iron sands per year from the sea floor for a 35-year period. Our reason for being there? Leigh was called as an expert witness to present our findings on blue whale distribution and ecology in the region where the proposed mining operation will be so that the potential impacts could be properly evaluated by the Decision Making Committee. Talk about seeing an immediate application of your research!

A pair of blue whales observed in February 2017 in the South Taranaki Bight.

Fast forward several months. The decision of whether or not the permit will be granted has been delayed, more evidence has been requested and considered, Leigh has testified again via skype, and the decision has been delayed yet again. It is a contentious case, and people on both sides have grown impatient, concerned, and frustrated. Finally, the date and time of the decision announcement finds me nervously refreshing my browser window until I see the outcome: the mining permit has been approved.  It was a split decision by the committee of four, with the committee chair casting the deciding vote.

A schematic of the operations of the proposed seabed mine in the South Taranaki Bight. Source: Kiwis Against Seabed Mining (kasm.org.nz).

While the Decision Making Committee was split on whether or not the permit should be approved, the constituency was not. During the hearing process, over 13,700 submissions were received, 99% of which were in opposition to the mining operation. Opposition came from Iwi (Maori tribes), commercial and recreational fishing industries, scientists, and residents of local coastal communities.

What does this mean for New Zealand, for the whales, for the ecosystem, for the future? This decision represents a landmark case that will surely set a new precedent. It is the first of its kind to be approved in New Zealand, and the first commercial scale seabed mining operation in the world. Other permit applications for seabed mines elsewhere will no doubt be submitted in the wake of the approval of TTR’s iron sands mining operation. The groups Kiwis Against Seabed Mining and Greenpeace New Zealand have announced that they will appeal the EPA’s decision in High Court, and TTR cannot begin dredging until all appeals are heard and two years of environmental monitoring have taken place.

So for the time being, life continues as usual for the blue whales. They will carry on feeding and raising their young in the South Taranaki Bight, where they already are surrounded by oil rigs, vessel traffic, and seismic airguns. In the meantime, above the water’s surface, many dedicated individuals are prepared to fight hard for environmental conservation. The blue whales will likely continue to unknowingly play a role in the decision-making process as our data demonstrate the importance of this region to their ecology, and the New Zealand public and media continue to learn about these iconic animals. The research effort I am part of has the potential to immediately and concretely influence policy decisions, and I sincerely hope that our findings will not fall on deaf ears in the appeal process. While we continue to provide biological evidence, politicians, the media, and the public need to emphasize the value of preserving biodiversity. These blue whales can be a figurehead for a more sustainable future for the region.

If you are interested in learning more, I invite you to take a minute to visit the web pages listed below.

Diving Deeper

By Taylor Mock, GEMM Lab intern

Greetings, all!

My name is Taylor Mock. Since February I have been volunteering in the GEMM Lab and am ecstatic to make my online debut as part of the team!

For many years, I had a shallow relationship with Hatfield Marine Science Center. As a Newport native, I would spend mornings and evenings glancing over at the Hatfield buildings while driving over the bridge to and from school. I was always intrigued. Sure, I would hear snippets of research from my peers about what projects their parents were involved in, but the inner workings of the complex mystified me.

Toward the end of my Freshman year in 2012 at Westmont College in Santa Barbara, California, my mom asked me what my summer plans were. I replied with the typical “I don’t know… Get a job?” She insisted that instead of a job I think about getting an internship; experience that will last more than a summer. I inquired through a family friend (because every person in this little community is woven together some way or another) if any internships or volunteer opportunities were available at Hatfield. She pointed me in the direction of the Environmental Protection Agency and thus began my Hatfield volunteering saga. I worked that summer, and the next, at the EPA under the direction of Ted DeWitt and Jody Stecher on denitrification studies in estuarine marshes. That summer provided me a glorious front row seat to field research and a greater understanding of my potential as a person and as a scientist. Now, this experience was marvelous, but I knew shortly after starting that my heart was elsewhere.

It was during my study abroad semester in Belize as part of my internship at the Toledo Institute for Development and Environment (TIDE) that I realized I wanted to work with marine macroorganisms. At TIDE, I engaged in radio telemetry conservation efforts tracking Hicatee (Dermatemys mawii) aquatic turtles. We would spend days on a small boat floating through canals and setting nets in hopes of capturing individuals of this small population to outfit them with radio tracking devices. These would be later used to track foraging, mating, and travel patterns in the region. It was an amazing time, to say the least. I remember waking up on my 21st birthday from my camping hammock and staring up at the lush rainforest above my head with a warm breeze across my face, followed by spending the day in the presence of these glorious creatures. It was heaven. I returned to Westmont the following term and took a Marine Mammal Eco-Physiology course and absolutely fell in love with Cetacea. Yes, I had always been captivated by this clade of beings (and truthfully when I was eight years old had a book on “How to Become a Marine Mammal Trainer”), but this was deeper. Of course, pinnipeds and otters and polar bears and manatees were enjoyable to learn about. There was something about the Cetacea though and how they migrated up and down the coast (just like me!) that I really connected with. My time learning about these animals created an intimate understanding of another group of species that developed into a rich, indescribable empathetic connection. I had to take a couple years away from scholastics and away from biology for health and wellness reasons. One day, though, a couple years after graduating and returning to Newport I rekindled with Jody from the EPA. He asked me if I would like to volunteer under Leigh Torres in the Marine Mammal Institute at HMSC. I do not think I could have possibly said no. I have been enjoying my time in the GEMM Lab ever since!

Though I am available to help anyone with any task they need, the work I do mostly centers around photogrammetry.

Using photogrammetry skills to measure gray whales in the GEMM Lab.

Photogrammetry, essentially, means geo-spatially measuring objects using photographs. What that looks like for me is taking an aerial photograph (extracted from overhead drone video footage) of a whale, running the image through a computer program called “Matlab”, taking a series of measurements from the whale (e.g., tip of the mandible to the notch of the fluke, distance between each tip of the fluke, and several measurements across the midsection of the whale). Several images of individuals are processed in order to find an average set of measurements for each whale.

Final result of the photogrammetry method on a gray whale

You might be wondering, “How can one measure the distance accurately from just a photograph?” I am glad you asked! The drones are outfitted with a barometer to measure the atmospheric pressure and, in turn, altitude. The changing altitudes are recorded in a separate program that is run simultaneously with the video footage. Thus, we have the altitudinal measurements for every millisecond of the drone’s flight. To monitor the accuracy and functionality of the barometer, calibrations are completed upon deployment and retrieval of each drone flight. To calibrate: the initial takeoff height is measured, a board of known length is thrown into the water, the drone will then rise or lower slowly above the board between 10 and 40 m, photographs of the board are then taken from varying altitudes, and are processed in Matlab.

During my time in the GEMM Lab, I have had the pleasure of completing photogrammetry assignments for both Leila on the Oregon Coast gray whale and for Dawn on the New Zealand blue whale projects. These ladies, and the other members of the GEMM Lab, have been so patient and gracious in educating me on the workings of Matlab and the video processing systems. It is a distinct honor working with them and to delight in the astounding nature of these creatures together. Each day I am struck in sheer awe of how beautiful and powerful these whales truly are. Their graceful presence and movement through the water rivals even the most skillful dancer.

Over the last 6 years, I am delighted to say that my relationship with Hatfield has become much deeper. The people and the experiences I have encountered during my time here, especially in the GEMM Lab, have been nothing short of incredible. I am sincerely grateful for this continued opportunity. It fills my soul with joy to engage in work that contributes to the well being of the ocean and its inhabitants.

Thank you, Leigh and all of the GEMM Lab members. I hope to continue volunteering with you for as long as you will have me.

The passion of a researcher

By Quince Nye, GEMM Lab Summer Intern, Pacific High School Junior

I have spent a lot of my life surrounded by nature. I like to backpack, bike, dive, and kayak in these natural environments. I also have the luck of having parents who are always planning to take me on another adventure where I get to see nature and its inhabitants in ways most people don’t get to enjoy.

Through my backyard explorations, I have begun to realize that Port Orford has an amazing ecosystem in the coves and rivers that are very tied into our community. I’ve fished and swam in these rivers, gone on kayaking tours in these coves (with a great kayak company called South Coast Tours that we partner with), and I’ve seen the life that dwells in them.

Nathan and Maggie paddle out to Mill Rocks for early morning sample collection

Growing up in a school of less than 100 kids I have learned to never reject an opportunity to be a part of something bigger and learn from that experience. So when one of my close friends told me about an OSU project (a college I’m interested in attending) that needed interns to help collect data on gray whales, and kayak almost every day, I signed up without a doubt in my mind.

The team gets some good practice tracking Buttons (Whale #3).  Left to right; Quince, Nathan, Maggie, Florence.

Fast forward a month, and I wake up at 5:20 am. I eat breakfast and get to the Port Orford Field Station. We make a plan for the operations of both the kayak team and cliff team. Today, I’m part of the cliff team, so I head up above the station to Fort Point. Florence and I set up the theodolite and computer at the lookout point and start taking half hour watch shifts searching the horizon for the spout of a gray whale.  Sometimes you see one right away, but other times it feels like the whales are actively hiding from you. These are the times I wish Maggie was here with her endless supply of Disney soundtracks to help pass the hours.

Imitating a ship’s captain, Quince points toward our whale while shouting “Mark”.

A whale spouts out at Mill Rocks and starts heading across to the jetty. Hurray, its data collection time! I try to quickly move the cross-hairs of the theodolite onto the position of the whale using a set of knobs like those on an etch-a-sketch. As you may understand, it’s not an easy task at first but I manage to do it because I’ve been practicing for three weeks. I say “Mark!” cueing Florence to click a button in the program Pythagoras on the computer to record the whale’s position.

The left hand side of Buttons – notice the scatter of white markings on the upper back.

Meanwhile, Florence sees that the whale has two white spots where the fluke meets the knuckles. Those are identifying marks of the beloved whale, Buttons. This whale has been seen here since 2016 and is a fan favorite for our on-going research program. Florence gets just as excited every time and texts her eagerly awaiting interns of previous years all about the sighting. Of course Buttons is not the only whale to have identifying marks such as scars and pigmentation marks. This is why we make sure to get photos of the whales we spot, allowing us to do photo-ID analysis on them through comparison to our database of pictures from previous years.

Quince practices CPR protocol on a training mannequin on his first day.

So far I have gained skill after skill in this internship. I got CPR certified, took a kayak training class, learned how to use a theodolite, and have spent many educational (and frustrating) hours entering data in Excel. I joined the program because I was interested in all of these things. It surprised me that I was developing a relationship with the whales I’m researching. By the end of August I’m now sure that I will also know many of the whales by name. I will probably be much better at using an etch-a-sketch, and I will have had my first taste at what being a scientist is like. What I strive for, however, is to have the same look in my eyes that appears in Florence’s whenever a familiar whale decides to browse our kelp beds.

Curiosity and Community, new ways of exploring our environment.

By Nathan Malamud, GEMM Lab summer intern, Pacific High School senior

I am someone who has lived in a small town for all his life. Pretty much everyone knows each other by their first name and my graduating class only has around 20 people. Everywhere you look you will find a farm, ranch, or cranberry bog (even our school has two bogs of their own!). Because of my small town life, I have a strong sense of community. However, I have also developed a curiosity about natural and global phenomena. I try to connect these two virtues by participating in scientific efforts that help my community. When I heard that the OSU Port Orford Field Station was offering internships, I knew right away that it would definitely be a great experience for me.

The view from our field site at Fort Point in Port Orford

Port Orford, on Oregon’s southern coast, is a town that is closely tied to the ocean. So naturally, it’s important to understand and monitor our surroundings so that our town can thrive. Last year, my Marine Science class helped me further understand the complexity of the ocean. Our first semester taught us all about marine biology, zoology, and ecology. Our second semester immersed us into oceanography, ocean geology, and ocean chemistry. During the second semester, we also took trips to our town’s marine science center and to the marine reserve near Rocky Point. I loved this course and decided to try to expand my knowledge about the subject by going to the OSU Field Station.

Our safety instructor teaches takes us through basic paddling techniques

As an intern, I am currently working with three teammates to understand the feeding behavior of gray whales – what places they like to eat zooplankton the most and why they like to eat there. This whale project helps our community by Port Orford enabling high school students to perform college-level scientific research and inquiry, as well as allowing us to learn valuable skills such as CPR, surveying using a theodolite, working with chemicals in a lab, and data processing.

We had to learn how to rescue ourselves just in case we have an accident in the boat.
We all made it back in the boat!

This internship with OSU’s GEMM Lab has taught me many new skills and given me new experiences that I have never had before. Before this internship, I had never been in a kayak. Now, I go out on the water nearly every other day! When on the water, I always try to sharpen my navigating skills. I use a GPS to pinpoint the locations of our sampling stations, and I communicate to my partner where we need to go and how we will get there.

Its very important to stretch before kayaking every morning.

Once we are there, it is my job to keep the boat close to the station location so that my partner can get accurate samples. This part is a very tricky task, because not only do I have to pay attention to the GPS to make sure we are within 10 meters of the spot, but I also have to pay attention to my surroundings. I have to look at the ocean, and figure out what direction the waves are coming from. I have to watch how external forces, like wind and currents, can cause the boat to drift far from station, and I have to correct drifting with gentle paddle strokes. This is hard, especially since the kayak is so light and easy to get pushed around by the wind. However, despite the difficulty, I have learned that it is crucial not to panic. Frustration only makes things worse. The key is to maintain a harmonic balance of concentration and zen.

I have also learned that when collecting data in the field, it’s important to observe and document as much as possible. When we are in the kayak, we have 12 stations that we try to visit every day (as long as the weather cooperates). At each station, we first use a secchi disk to test the water clarity, then lower the GoPro to film the water column and see where the zooplankton are. Sometimes we catch other interesting things on the video too, such as siphonophores (my personal favorites are jellies and salps) and rockfish.

A siphonophore
A rockfish captured with our GoPro.

Next we tow a zooplankton net through the water, and let it collect zooplankton of all shapes and sizes, from tiny mysids to skeleton shrimp. Then we proceed to the next station and repeat the process. We have to remember to label everything, and tell the GoPro camera what station we’re at so we can sort all the information correctly when we get back to the field station. At the end of the day, we log our data into a computer, and preserve half our plankton samples with ethanol, so that we can identify the species present.  The other half gets frozen for caloric content analysis by our collaborator Dr. Kim Bernard to help us understand how much zooplankton a whale needs to eat to meet its energy needs each day.

By repeating this entire process every day, we are able to look at daily changes, which also helps us to better understand why whales spend time in certain areas and not others. Be sure to check out my teammate Maggie’s blog post about some of the tools and technologies we use to track the whales!

This whale project has been, and definitely still is, a great experience for me! I have learned a lot and have worked with some amazing people. I believe that I am learning many valuable skills, and that the skills I learn will allow me to help my community.

A Little Slice of Heaven

Guest writer: Maggie O’Rourke-Liggett, GEMM Lab summer intern, Oregon State University,

One of the biggest obstacles an undergraduate can face is fulfilling the degree requirement of completing an internship or research opportunity. With almost every university and degree program requiring it for graduation and many employers requiring prior experience, the amount of pressure and competition is intense.

After being rejected from the internships I applied for earlier in the year, I heard about Dr. Leigh Torres’s research with the Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna (GEMM) Lab . I decided to email her and ask if she had any open positions. Fast-forward a few weeks and I am collaborating with Florence Sullivan, a recent masters graduate from OSU, on the logistics of my Gray Whale Foraging Behavior internship with the GEMM Lab.

 

My workstation while I conduct photo identification analysis in the field station classroom. The photos are displayed and organized in Adobe Bridge. Source: Maggie O’Rourke-Liggett

During my time with the GEMM Lab team, I have been assisting with photo identification analysis of gray whales (Eschrichtius robustus), using a theodolite and Pythagoras computer program to track their movements, collecting samples of the zooplankton they eat, and recording other oceanographic data with our time-depth recorder. This project is hoping to identify the drivers of gray whale fine-scale foraging behavior.  For instance: Why do gray whales spend more time in some areas than others?  Does the type or density of prey affect their behavior? Do the whales use static features like kelp beds to help find their food? As a senior currently studying oceanography, who desires to study whale behavior in the future, this internship is like finding a gold mine.

Nathan Malamud, our other high school intern, and I working together to set up the theodolite in backyard during a practice run. Source: Florence Sullivan

Ever since day one at Hatfield Marine Science Center, I’ve been working with people who share the same passions for marine mammals as me. Spending hours upon hours sorting thousands of pictures may seem like a painful, tedious job, but knowing my work helps others to update existing identification catalogs makes it worthwhile. Plus, who wouldn’t want to look at whales all day?! After a while, you start to recognize specific individuals based on their various pigment configurations and scars. Once you can recognize individuals, it makes the sorting go by faster and helps with recognizing individual whales in the wild faster. It’s always exciting to sort through the photos and observe from the cliff or kayak and recognize a whale from the photo identification work.

After Florence taught me how to set up and operate the theodolite, a survey tool used to track a whale’s movements, we taught a class to undergrads on how to use it. I’ll never get over how people’s faces lit up when we discussed how the instrument works and its role in the overall mission.

Quince Nye, one of our high school interns, using side strokes to stabilize the kayak while I deploy our zooplankton net over the side with a down rigger. Source: Florence Sullivan

These past two weeks at OSU’s Port Orford Field Station have been like living on a little slice of heaven. My days are filled with clear views of the coast and the sound of waves crashing serve as a backdrop on my home for the month, the bed-and-breakfast turned field station. Each morning, the sun fills my room as I gather my gear for the day and help my teammates load the truck. We spend long days on the water collecting zooplankton samples and GoPro video or on the cliff recording whale behavior through the theodolite. To anyone searching for an internship and feeling burnt out from completing application after application, don’t give up. You’ll find your slice of heaven too.

Where are the eggs? Studying red-legged kittiwakes in a time of change

By Rachael Orben, Research Associate, Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, Oregon State University

In late May, I returned to St. George Island, Alaska to study the foraging ecology of red-legged kittiwakes using a mix of high-tech biologging tags, physiology measurements, and observations.  The study was designed to identify differences in behavior and physiology between birds that reproduce successfully and birds that don’t and then to see how this might carry over to the winter season (and vice versa).  Things didn’t go as planned.

A red-legged kittiwake on St. George Island. Photo C. Kroeger

This was my fourth spring on the island, and like prior seasons we arrived in late May, when birds should be building nests. However, unlike previous seasons, red-legged kittiwake’s didn’t look like they had done much nest building. I was accompanied by Abram Fleishman, a superstar MS student from San Jose State who is studying the winter spatial ecology of red-legged kittiwakes in relationship to mercury concentration in their feathers.

We immediately set about recapturing birds that had carried geolocation data loggers over the winter. We wanted to catch as many as possible before eggs were laid, so that their blood samples would represent the pre-lay period. The weather was wonderful, so it wasn’t until three weeks after we arrived that we had our first day-off. It was at about this time that I finally lost my optimism and realized the majority of red-legged kittiwakes were not going to lay eggs. By late June kittiwakes are usually incubating eggs. We only saw a handful of eggs and very few of these were being incubated. Most birds didn’t even build nests, or if they did, the nest was dismantled by other birds when the nest building pair didn’t stick around to guard their pile of mud and moss.

Nests in 2016. Laying success was also low in 2016, but even if birds didn’t lay many pairs built nests.
Same cliff (and birds) without nests in 2017.

When I designed the study, I thought collecting enough data to answer my questions about successful versus failed breeders would be hard, since failed breeders would be challenging to work with and red-legged kittiwakes typically have high breeding success, meaning that sample sizes of failed breeders would be small. Instead our three seasons occurred with progressively worse breeding success and we will now have to shift the focus of our analysis to see if we can find differences between birds that laid eggs and birds that didn’t, if we have the sample sizes! With ~80% laying success in the 9 years preceding the beginning of our study in 2015, this is something I would never have expected! The egg laying failure of 2017 is unprecedented in the productivity monitoring time series collected by the Alaska Maritime Wildlife Refuge.

Seabirds are often touted as indicator species of marine health (Cairns 1988, Piatt et al 2007), and while there are always caveats and additional questions to be answered, seabirds are reliant on the ocean for food and observing their behavior and condition tells us something about how easy (or hard) it is for them to find food.

So, what do I think the red-legged kittiwakes told us this year? I think they were squawking loud and clear, that they were not able to find myctophid fishes within their foraging range to the south and west of the Pribilofs. Myctophids are small fatty mesopelagic bioluminescent fish that come to the surface at night where red-legged kittiwakes catch them.

Besides just observing the laying failure, we were able to GPS track a few birds, collect a few diet samples, catch birds for blood and feather samples, and resight banded individuals. It is these pieces of information that I will be analyzing in the coming months to try to understand why some individuals were able to lay eggs during our study years, while most were not.  These years should also help us understand what capacity red-legged kittiwakes have to cope (or not) with changes in prey availability. However, after three years, I still don’t know what a ‘good’ year looks like for red-legged kittiwakes. Fingers crossed next season is finally a decent year for this sentinel seabird of the pelagic Bering Sea.

Pre-lay foraging trips of red-legged kittiwakes in 2015.
Pre-lay foraging trips of red-legged kittiwake in 2017. Two birds were heading north when their GPS loggers stopped recording.

You can read more about our red-legged kittiwake research in a series of blog posts written for the Seabird Youth Network, a partnership between the Pribilof School District, the Aleut Community of St. Paul Island, the City of St. Paul, Tanadgusix Corporation, the St. George Traditional Council, St. George Island Institute, the Alaska Maritime National Wildlife Refuge, and the wider scientific community. The network creates opportunities for youth to learn about seabirds with the aim of building local capacity for the collection of long-term seabird monitoring data on the Pribilof Islands.