Month: September 2021

Let me introduce you to… dugongs!

By Solène Derville, Postdoc, OSU Department of Fisheries, Wildlife, and Conservation Science, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab

Today let me take you on a journey into the tropical waters of the Indo-Pacific Ocean, far from Oregon’s beautiful coasts. Although I have been working as a postdoc on the OPAL project for a year, the pandemic has prevented me from moving to the US as planned. Like so many around the globe, I have been working remotely from my study area (Oregon coastal waters), imagining my study species (blue, fin and humpback whales) gently swimming and feeding along the productive California Current system. One day, I’ll get to see these amazing animals for real, that’s for sure.

But in the meantime, I have taken this year as an opportunity to work with the GEMM lab, while continuing to enjoy the marvels of New Caledonia, a French overseas territory where I have lived for more than 6 years now. Among the animals that I get to approach and observe regularly in the coral reef lagoons that surround the island, the dugong (Dugon dugon) is perhaps the most emblematic and intriguing. This marine mammal is listed as vulnerable in the IUCN Red list of threatened species and has been the focus of important research and conservation efforts in New Caledonia over the last two decades1–3. During my previous post-doctoral position at the French Institute of Research for Sustainable Development, I contributed to some recent research involving satellite tracking of dugongs in the region. This work has led to a publication, now in review4, and will be the topic of my oral presentation at the 7th International Bio-Logging Science Symposium hosted in Hawaii in a couple weeks.

While I was analyzing dugong satellite tracks, writing this paper with my colleagues and preparing for the symposium, I learned a lot about these strange “sea cows”. Dugongs belong to the Sirenian marine mammal order, just like manatees (West Indian, Amazonian and West African species), which they are often mistaken for (watch out: Google Images will misleadingly suggest hundreds of manatee pictures if you make a “dugong” keyword search). The physiology and anatomy of dugongs is actually quite different from that of manatees (Figure 1). They also live in a different part of the world as they are broadly distributed in the Indo-Pacific coastal and island waters. Dugongs form separate populations, some of which are very isolated and at high risk of extirpation. They are found in 37 different countries, with Australia being home to the largest populations by far (exceeding 70,000 individuals5).

Figure 1: Manatee vs Dugong, can you tell them apart? Among other things, dugongs and manatees have a very different body shape. As the famous Sirenian specialist Helene Marsh said, a dugong essentially looks like “a manatee that goes to the gym”5! Illustration by S. Derville.

Sea cow or sea elephant?

Through the tree of evolution, the dugong and manatee’s closest relative is not the one you would think… other marine mammals like cetaceans or pinnipeds. Indeed, molecular genetic analyses have placed the Sirenians in the Afrotheria Superorder of mammals. Therefore, it appears that dugongs are more closely related to elephant and golden moles than to whales and dolphins!

As a memory aid to help remember this ancient origin, we may notice that both elephants and dugongs have tusks. Mature male and female dugongs have erupted tusks, although the females’ only erupt rarely and at a very old age. Interestingly, tusks are used by scientists to determine age. Analyses of growth layers in bisected dugong tusks have revealed that dugongs are long-lived, with a maximum longevity record of 73 years (estimated from a female individual found in Western Australia5).

An (almost) vegetarian marine mammal

Dugongs and manatees are the only predominantly herbivorous aquatic mammals. Given that manatees use both marine and fresh water ecosystems they tend to have a broader diet, eating many kinds of submerged, floating or emergent algae and seagrass (even bank growth!). On the other hand, dugongs are a strictly marine species and primarily feed on seagrass, which may look very similar to seaweeds, but are in fact marine flowering plants. Seagrass tend to form underwater shallow meadows that are among the most productive ecosystems in the world6. In fact, dugong grazing influences the biomass, species composition and nutritional quality of seagrass meadows7,8. Just like we take care of our gardens, dugongs regulate seagrass ecosystems. But there is more. Recent research conducted in the Great Barrier Reef indicates that seagrass seeds that have been digested by dugongs germinate at a faster rate9. As well as playing a role in dispersal10, it appears that dugongs are pooping seeds with enhanced germination potential, hence participating to seagrass meadow resilience.

Figure 2: Dugong mother and calf feeding on a dense seagrass bed (a) and solitary adult foraging in a very sparce seagrass bed (b). Seagrass grows in many different types of meadows, which may vary in density, species composition and substrate. For instance, seagrass species of the Halophila genus are among the preferred dugong’s meals although may be very thinly distributed (c). Photo credit: Serge Andréfouët, New Caledonia.

Unlike manatees, dugongs cannot feed over the whole water column and are strictly bottom feeders. They use their deflected snout (Figure 1) to search the seabed for their favorite food (Figure 2). The feeding trails left by dugongs in dense seagrass meadows are easily detectable from above, just like the sediment clouds that they generate when searching muddy bottoms. Although seagrass is undoubtedly the main component of the dugong’s diet, they may incidentally (or not) ingest algae and invertebrates5.

A legendary animal

The etymology for the word Sirenian comes from the mermaids, or “sirens” of the Greek mythology. These aquatic creatures with the upper body of a female human would sing to lure sailors towards the shore… and towards a certain death. The morphology of dugongs and manatees shares some resemblance with mermaids, at least enough for desperate and lonely sailors to think so!

In addition to having a scientific name rooted in legends, dugongs are also important to contemporary human cultures. In tropical islands and coastal communities, marine megafauna species such as dugongs are considered heritage, due to the strong bond that their people have forged with the ocean5. Dugongs may play an important cultural role because they can be part of the socio-symbolic organization of societies, associated with the imaginary world, or simply because they are seen as companions of the sea, which people frequently encounter. For New Caledonia’s indigenous people, the Kanaks, dugongs can be totem to tribes. Like other large marine species (whales, sharks), the dugong is also considered as an embodiment of ancestors11.

Dugongs have been hunted throughout their range since prehistoric times. Archaeological excavations such as those conducted on the island of Akab in the United Arab Emirates12, indicate that dugong hunting played a role in ancient rituals, in addition to providing a large quantity of meat. The cultural value of dugongs is recognized by multiple countries, which have therefore authorized indigenous dugong hunting, sometimes under quotas. For instance, in Australia, dugongs may be legally hunted by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people (Figure 3) under section 211 of the Native Title Act 1993.

In New Caledonia, the dugong has been protected since 1962 and its hunting is only authorized in one province, with a dispensation for traditional Kanak celebrations13. However, in view of the critical situation in which the New Caledonian dugong population finds itself, estimated at around 700 individuals in 2008-201214, no hunting exemptions have been issued since 2004.

Figure 3: “Naath” (dugong hunting platform), hand colored linocut by Torres Strait Islander artist Dennis Nona. The art piece represents traditional dugong hunting where the hunter is guided by the phosphorescent glow the dugong would leave in the water at night.

What future for dugongs?

Despite legislations to forbid dugong meat consumption outside specific traditional permits, poaching persists, in New Caledonia and in many of the “low-income” countries that are home to dugongs. As climate change and demography intensifies risks to food security, scientists and stakeholders fear for dugongs. Moreover, dugongs entirely rely on seagrass ecosystems that are also disappearing at an alarming rate (7% per year6) as a result of coastal development, pollution and overfishing.

Can we preserve dugongs in regions of high climate vulnerability and where people still have low levels of access to basic needs? Can dugongs play the role of “umbrellas” for the conservation of the ecosystem they live in? I do not have the answer to these questions but I certainly believe that people’s well-being and environmental conservation are tightly intertwined. I hope that rising transdisciplinary approaches such as those supported by the “One Health” framework will help reconnect human populations to their environment, and achieve the goal of optimal health for everyone, humans and animals.

References

1.        Garrigue, C., Patenaude, N. & Marsh, H. Distribution and abundance of the dugong in New Caledonia, southwest Pacific. Mar. Mammal Sci. 24, 81–90 (2008).

2.        Cleguer, C., Grech, A., Garrigue, C. & Marsh, H. Spatial mismatch between marine protected areas and dugongs in New Caledonia. Biol. Conserv. 184, 154–162 (2015).

3.        Cleguer, C., Garrigue, C. & Marsh, H. Dugong (Dugong dugon) movements and habitat use in a coral reef lagoonal ecosystem. Endanger. Species Res. 43, 167–181 (2020).

4.        Derville, S., Cleguer, C. & Garrigue, C. Ecoregional and temporal dynamics of dugong habitat use in a complex coral reef lagoon ecosystem. Sci. Rep. (In review)

5.        Marsh, H., O’Shea, T. J. & Reynolds, J. E. I. Ecology and conservation of the Sirenia: dugongs and manatees, Vol 18. (Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2011).

6.        Unsworth, R. K. F. & Cullen-Unsworth, L. C. Seagrass meadows. Curr. Biol. 27, R443–R445 (2017).

7.        Aragones, L. V., Lawler, I. R., Foley, W. J. & Marsh, H. Dugong grazing and turtle cropping: Grazing optimization in tropical seagrass systems? Oecologia 149, 635–647 (2006).

8.        Preen, A. Impacts of dugong foraging on seagrass habitats: observational and experimental evidence for cultivation grazing. Mar. Ecol. Prog. Ser. 124, 201–213 (1995).

9.        Tol, S. J., Jarvis, J. C., York, P. H., Congdon, B. C. & Coles, R. G. Mutualistic relationships in marine angiosperms: Enhanced germination of seeds by mega-herbivores. Biotropica (2021) doi:10.1111/btp.13001.

10.      Tol, S. J. et al. Long distance biotic dispersal of tropical seagrass seeds by marine mega-herbivores. Sci. Rep. 7, 1–8 (2017).

11.      Dupont, A. Évaluation de la place du dugong dans la société néo-calédonienne. (Mémoire Master. Encadré par L. Gardes (Agence des Aires Marines Protégées) et C. Sabinot (IRD), 2015).

12.      Méry, S., Charpentier, V., Auxiette, G. & Pelle, E. A dugong bone mound: The Neolithic ritual site on Akab in Umm al-Quwain, United Arab Emirates. Antiquity 83, 696–708 (2009).

13.      Leblic, I. Vivre de la mer, vivre de la terre… en pays kanak. Savoirs et techniques des pêcheurs kanak du sud de la Nouvelle-Calédonie. (Société des Océanistes, 2008).

14.      Hagihara, R. et al. Compensating for geographic variation in detection probability with water depth improves abundance estimates of coastal marine megafauna. PLoS One 13, e0191476 (2018).

Coming full circle

By Rachel Kaplan, PhD student, OSU College of Earth, Ocean, and Atmospheric Sciences and Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab

Returning to a place you once lived always shows how much you and the world around you have changed, offering a new perspective on the time away and where you are now. I’m writing this from my old office at Bigelow Laboratory for Ocean Sciences in East Boothbay, Maine, where I worked before moving out to Oregon to join the GEMM Lab and start graduate school at OSU. Being back in Maine has made me reflect on how much I’ve learned over the last year, and given me the opportunity to think about what’s ahead.

As a science communications specialist at Bigelow for three years, much of my work involved quickly getting up to speed on new research and writing articles for a general audience about important ocean processes. My first year of grad school has both deepened and broadened my perspective on the ocean, prodding me to think at telescoping temporal and spatial scales. I can tell that I think about the ocean differently now.

In 2019, writing this feature-length article about impacts of changing climate on North Atlantic right whales and their prey was my first introduction to research using environmental models to help mitigate entanglement issues. Now, I’m excited to be pursuing research with these themes as part of the GEMM Lab’s Project OPAL.

Over the last year, my coursework in ocean ecology and biogeochemistry surveyed the physical and chemical workings of the ocean, marine ecosystem dynamics, and the global cycles that control much of life on earth. Through lab activities and fieldwork, I began learning about whales and the marine system off the coast of Oregon, and how to ask questions that occupy the intersection between whales and their environment.

This work and learning have made me think in a new way about whales as agents of biogeochemical cycling: how do they shuttle nutrients across large distances and affect global cycles? In what ways is the biogeography of whales an expression of the global patterns of light availability and nutrient fluxes that support their prey? How is it possible to detangle and encapsulate all of the relevant variability of a natural system into a mathematical model?

All these questions were churning in my mind at the start of this trip, as I spent the bus ride from Boston to Maine reading papers for our monthly GEMM lab meeting. I also remembered the first meeting that I joined, when I was so intimidated that I couldn’t imagine discussing research with this impressive group. This time, I was just as in awe as ever of the lab, but a bit more confident in wielding acronyms and sharing ideas.

I actually attended my first GEMM Lab meeting while still working in Maine, in July 2020. I was joined by my friends’ one-year-old daughter, who alternately tried to chime in on the meeting and shut my laptop. Now, she is a chatty two-year-old kid and newly a big sister. The new baby became part of my PhD this week too, snoozing in my lap as I edited an abstract.

Only 16 days old and already helping write an abstract!

Often, it’s only seeing my friends’ children grow that shows me how much time has passed. This time, I can feel it in myself, as well. I’m excited to have made it through the first year of coursework and to be learning to formulate research questions and think about ocean systems in new ways. I’m happy to be back in this place that inspired me to pursue a PhD, and to be able to share my own work and knowledge with former colleagues.

I gained so much during my time here at Bigelow: the communication and outreach skills in my job, inspiration from the scientific curiosity and passion of my colleagues, and the support of all these people who reassured me that I would get into grad school and that doing a PhD is a good idea. I’m so happy to be able to carry this support and momentum forward with me through the rest of grad school, and excited to return to Oregon and keep going.

Where will the whales be? Ecological forecast models present new tools for conservation

By Dawn Barlow, PhD Candidate, OSU Department of Fisheries, Wildlife and Conservation Sciences, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab

Dynamic forecast models predict environmental conditions and blue whale distribution up to three weeks into the future, with applications for spatial management. Founded on a robust understanding of ecological links and lags, a recent study by Barlow & Torres presents new tools for proactive conservation.

The ocean is dynamic. Resources are patchy, and animals move in response to the shifting and fluid marine environment. Therefore, protected areas bounded by rigid lines may not always be the most effective way to conserve marine biodiversity. If the animals we wish to protect are not within protected area boundaries, then ocean users pay a price without the conservation benefit. Management that is adaptive to current conditions may more effectively match the dynamic nature of the species and places of concern, but this approach is only feasible if we have the relevant ecological knowledge to implement it.

The South Taranaki Bight region of New Zealand is home to a foraging ground for a unique population of blue whales that are genetically distinct and present year-round. The area also sustains New Zealand’s most industrial marine region, including active petroleum exploration and extraction, and vessel traffic between ports.

To minimize overlap between blue whale habitat and human use of the area, we develop and test forecasts of oceanographic conditions and blue whale habitat. These tools enable managers to make decisions with up to three weeks lead time in order to minimize potential overlap between blue whales and other ocean users.

Overlap between blue whale habitat and industry presence in the South Taranaki Bight region. A blue whale surfaces in front of a floating production storage and offloading (FPSO) vessel, servicing the oil rigs in the area. Photo by Dawn Barlow.

Predicting the future

Knowing where animals were yesterday may not create effective management boundaries for tomorrow. Like the weather, our expectation of when and where to find species may be based on long-term averages of previous patterns, real-time descriptions based on recent data, and forecasts that predict the future using current conditions. Forecasts allow us to plan ahead and make informed decisions needed to produce effective management strategies for dynamic systems.

Just as weather forecasts help us make decisions about whether to wear a raincoat or pack sunscreen before leaving the house, ecological forecasts can enable managers to anticipate environmental conditions and species distribution patterns in advance of industrial activity that may pose risk in certain scenarios.

In our recent study, we develop and test models that do just that: forecast where blue whales are most likely to be, allowing informed decision making with up to three weeks lead time.

Harnessing accessible data for an applicable tool

We use readily accessible data gathered by satellites and shore-based weather stations and made publicly available online. While our understanding of the ecosystem dynamics in the South Taranaki Bight is founded on years of collecting data at-sea and ecological analyses, using remotely gathered data for our forecasting tool is critical for making this approach operational, sustainable, and useful both now and into the future.

Measurements of conditions such as wind speed and ocean temperature anomaly are paired with known measurements of the lag times between wind input, upwelling, productivity, and blue whale foraging opportunities to produce forecasted environmental conditions.

Example environmental forecast maps, illustrating the predicted sea surface temperature and productivity in the South Taranaki Bight region, which can be forecasted by the models with up to three weeks lead time.

The forecasted environmental layers are then implemented in species distribution models to predict suitable blue whale habitat in the region, generating a blue whale forecast map. This map can be used to evaluate overlap between blue whale habitat and human uses, guiding management decisions regarding potential threats to the whales.

Example forecast of suitable blue whale habitat, with areas of higher probability of blue whale occurrence shown by the warmer colors and the area classified as “suitable habitat” denoted by the white boundaries. This habitat suitability map can be produced for any day in the past 10 years or for any day up to three weeks in the future.

Dynamic ecosystems, dynamic management

These forecasts of whale distribution can be effectively applied for dynamic spatial management because our models are founded on carefully measured links and lags between physical forcing (e.g., wind drives cold water upwelling) and biological responses (e.g., krill aggregations create feeding opportunities for blue whales). The models produce outputs that are dynamic and update as conditions change, matching the dynamic nature of the ecosystem.

A blue whale raises its majestic fluke on a deep foraging dive in the South Taranaki Bight. Photo by Leigh Torres.

Engagement with stakeholders—including managers, scientists, industry representatives, and environmental organizations—has been critical through the creation and implementation of this forecasting tool, which is currently in development as a user-friendly desktop application.

Our forecast tool provides managers with lead time for decision making and allows flexibility based on management objectives. Through trial, error, success, and feedback, these tools will continue to improve as new knowledge and feedback are received.

The people behind the science, from data collection to conservation application. Left: Dawn Barlow and Dr. Leigh Torres aboard a research vessel in New Zealand in 2017, collecting data on blue whale distribution patterns that contributed to the findings in this study. Right: Dr. Leigh Torres and Dawn Barlow at the Parliament buildings in Wellington, New Zealand, where they discussed research findings with politicians and managers, gathered feedback on barriers to implementation, and subsequently incorporated feedback into the development and implementation of the forecasting tools.

Reference: Barlow, D. R., & Torres, L. G. (2021). Planning ahead: Dynamic models forecast blue whale distribution with applications for spatial management. Journal of Applied Ecology, 00, 1–12. https://doi.org/10.1111/1365-2664.13992

This post was written for The Applied Ecologist Blog and the Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab Blog

Supporting marine life conservation as an outsider: Blue whales and earthquakes

By Mateo Estrada Jorge, Oregon State University undergraduate student, GEMM Lab REU Intern

Introduction

My name is Mateo Estrada and this past summer I had the pleasure of working with Dawn Barlow and Dr. Leigh Torres as a National Science Foundation (NSF) Research Experience for Undergraduates (REU) intern. I had the chance to proactively learn about the scientific method in the marine sciences by studying the acoustic behaviors of pygmy blue whales (Balaenoptera musculus brevicauda) that are documented residents of the South Taranaki Bight region in New Zealand (Torres 2013, Barlow et al. 2018). I’ve been interested in conducting scientific research since I began my undergraduate education at Oregon State University in 2015. Having the opportunity to apply the skills I gained through my education in this REU has been a blessing. I’m a physics and computer science major, but more than anything I’m a scientist and my passion has taken me in new, unexpected directions that I’m going to share in this blog post. My message for any students who feel like they haven’t found their path yet is: hang in there, sometimes it takes time for things to take shape. That has been my experience and I’m sure it’s been the experience of many people interested in the sciences. I’m a Physics and Computer Science student, so why am I studying blue whales, and more specifically, how can I be doing marine science research having only taken intro to biology 101?

My background

I decided to apply for the REU in the Spring 2021 because it was a chance to use my programming skills in the marine sciences. I’m also passionate about conservation and protecting the environment in a pragmatic way, so I decided to find a niche where I could put my technical skills to good use. Finally, I wanted to explore a scientific field outside of my area of expertise to grow as a student and to learn from other researchers. I was mostly inspired by anecdotal tales of Physicist Richard Feynman who would venture out of the physics department at Caltech and into other departments to learn about what other scientists were investigating to inspire his own work. This summer, I ventured into the world of marine science, and what I found in my project was fascinating.

Whale watching tour

Figure 1. Me standing on a boat on the Pacific Ocean off Long Beach, CA.

To get into the research mode, I decided to go on a whale watching tour with the Aquarium of the Pacific. The tour was two hours long and the sunburn was worth it because we got to see four blue whales off the Long Beach coast in California. I got to see the famous blue whale blow and their splashes. It was the first time I was on a big boat in the ocean, so naturally I got seasick (Fig 1). But it was exciting to get a chance to see blue whales in action (luckily, I didn’t actually hurl). The marine biologist onboard also gave a quick lecture on the relative size of blue whales and some of their behaviors. She also pointed out that they don’t use Sonar to locate whales as this has been shown to disturb their calling behaviors. Instead, we looked for a blow and splashing. The tour was a wonderful experience and I’m glad I got to see some whales out in nature. This experience also served as a reminder of the beauty of marine life and the responsibility I feel for trying to understand and help conserving it.

Context of blue whale calling

Sound plays a significant role in the marine environment and is a critical mode of communication for many marine animals including baleen whales. Blue whales produce different vocalizations, otherwise known as calls.  Blue whale song is theorized to be produced by males of the species as a form of reproductive behavior, similar to how male peacocks engage females by displaying their elongated upper tail covert feathers in iridescent colors as a courtship mechanism. Then there are “D calls” that are associated with social mechanisms while foraging, and these calls are made by both female and male blue whales (Lewis et al. 2018) (Fig. 2).

Figure 2. Spectrogram of Pygmy blue whale D calls manually (and automatically) selected, frequency 0-150 Hz.

Understanding research on blue whales

The most difficult part about coming into a project as an outsider is catching up. I learned how anthropogenetic (human made) noise affects blue whale communication. For example, it has been showing that Mid Frequency Active Sonar signals employed by the U.S. Navy affect blue whale D calling patterns (Melcón 2012). Furthermore, noise from seismic airguns used for oil and gas exploration has also impact blue whale calling behavior (Di Lorio, 2010). Understanding the environmental context in which the pygmy blue whales live and the anthropogenic pressures they face is essential in marine conservation. Protecting the areas in which they live is important so they can feed, reproduce and thrive effectively. What began as a slowly falling snowflake at the start of a snowstorm turned into a cascading avalanche of knowledge pouring into my mind in just two weeks.

Figure 3. The white stars show the hydrophone locations (n = 5). A bathymetric scale of the depth is also given.

The research question I set out to tackle in my internship was: do blue whales change their calling behavior in response to natural noise events from earthquake activity? To do this, I used acoustic recordings from five hydrophones deployed in the South Taranaki Bight (Fig. 3), paired with an existing dataset of all recorded earthquakes in New Zealand (GeoNet). I identified known earthquakes in our acoustic recordings, and then examined the blue whale D calls during 4 hours before and after each earthquake event to look for any change in the number of calls, call energy, entropy, or bandwidth.

A great mentor and lab team

The days kept passing and blending into each other, as they often do with remote work. I began to feel isolated from the people I was working with and the blue whales I was studying. The zoom calls, group chats, and working alongside other remote interns kept me afloat as I adapted to a work world fully online. Nevertheless, I was happy to continue working on this project because I felt like I was slowly becoming part of the GEMM Lab. I would meet with my mentor Dawn Barlow at least once a week and we would spend time talking about the project and sorting out the difficult details of data processing. She always encouraged my curiosity to ask questions. Even if they were silly questions, she was happy to ponder them because she is a curious scientist like myself.

What we learned

Pygmy blue whales from the South Taranaki Bight region do not change their acoustic behavior in response to earthquake activity. The energy of the earthquake, magnitude, depth, and distance to the origin all had no influence on the number of blue whale D calls, the energy of their calling, the entropy, and the bandwidth. A likely reason for why the blue whales would have no acoustic response to earthquakes (magnitude < 5) is that the STB region is a seismically active region due to the nearby interface of the Australian and Pacific plates. Because of the plate tectonics, the region averages about 20,000 recorded earthquakes per year (GeoNet: Earthquake Statistics). Given that pygmy blue whales are present in the STB region year-round (Barlow et al. 2018), the blue whales may have adapted to tolerate the earthquake activity (Fig 4).

Figure 4. Earthquake signal from MARU (1, 2, 3, 4, 5) and blue whale D calls, Frequency 0-150 Hz.

Looking at the future

I presented my work at the end of my REU internship program, which was a difficult challenge for me because I am often intimidated by public speaking (who isn’t?). Communicating science has always been a big interest of me. I love reading news articles about new breakthroughs and being a small part of that is a huge privilege for me. Finding my own voice and having new insights to contribute to the scientific world has always been my main objective. Now I will get to deliver a poster presentation of my REU work at the Association for the Sciences of Limnology and Oceanography (ASLO) Conference in March 2022. I am both excited and nervous to take on this new adventure of meeting seasoned professionals, communicating my results, and learning about the ocean sciences. I hope to gain new inspirations for my future academic and professional work.

References:

About Earthquake Drums – GeoNet. geonet.Org. Retrieved June 23, 2021, from https://www.geonet.org.nz/about/earthquake/drums

Barlow, D. R., Torres, L. G., Hodge, K. B., Steel, D., Scott Baker, C., Chandler, T. E., Bott, N., Constantine, R., Double, M. C., Gill, P., Glasgow, D., Hamner, R. M., Lilley, C., Ogle, M., Olson, P. A., Peters, C., Stockin, K. A., Tessaglia-Hymes, C. T., & Klinck, H. (2018). Documentation of a New Zealand blue whale population based on multiple lines of evidence. Endangered Species Research, 36, 27–40. https://doi.org/10.3354/esr00891

Di Iorio, L., & Clark, C. W. (2010). Exposure to seismic survey alters blue whale acoustic communication. Biology Letters, 6(3), 334–335. https://doi.org/10.1098/rsbl.2009.0967

Lewis, L. A., Calambokidis, J., Stimpert, A. K., Fahlbusch, J., Friedlaender, A. S., McKenna, M. F., Mesnick, S. L., Oleson, E. M., Southall, B. L., Szesciorka, A. R., & Sirović, A. (2018). Context-dependent variability in blue whale acoustic behaviour. Royal Society Open Science, 5(8). https://doi.org/10.1098/rsos.180241

Melcón, M. L., Cummins, A. J., Kerosky, S. M., Roche, L. K., Wiggins, S. M., & Hildebrand, J. A. (2012). Blue whales respond to anthropogenic noise. PLoS ONE, 7(2), 1–6. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0032681

Torres LG. 2013 Evidence for an unrecognised blue whale foraging ground in New Zealand. NZ J. Mar. Freshwater Res. 47, 235–248. (doi:10. 1080/00288330.2013.773919)