Oregon sea otter reintroduction: opinions, perspectives, and theories

By Dominique Kone, Masters Student in Marine Resource Management

Species reintroductions can be hotly contested issues because they can negatively impact other species, ecosystems, and society, as well as failing, altogether. The uncertainty of their outcomes forces stakeholder groups to form their own opinions on whether it’s a good idea to proceed with a reintroduction. When you have several groups with conflicting values and views, managers need to focus on the information most important for them to make a well-informed decision on whether to pursue a reintroduction.

As researchers, we can play an important role by carefully considering and addressing these views through our research, if the appropriate data is available. Despite being in the early days of our study on the potential sea otter reintroduction to Oregon, we have already heard several perspectives regarding its potential success, the type of research we should do, and if sea otters should be brought back to Oregon. Here, I present some of the most interesting and relevant opinions, perspectives, and theories I’ve heard regarding this reintroduction idea.

Source: Suzi Eszterhas

The first reintroduction failed because of X, Y, and Z.

From 1970-1971, managers translocated 93 sea otters to Oregon in a reintroduction effort (Jameson et al. 1982). However, in a matter of 5-6 years, all sea otters disappeared, and the effort was considered a failure. Researchers have theorized that sea otters left Oregon due to a lack of suitable habitat and prey, or to return home to sites from which they were captured. Others have reasoned that managers should have introduced southern sea otters instead of northern sea otters, suggesting one subspecies’ genetic pre-disposition may improve their chance for survival.

Knowing the reasons for this failure may help managers avoid these causes in a future reintroduction attempt and increase its chance of success. We, as scientists, can also gain insight from knowing these causes because this may help us better tailor our research to potentially investigate whether those causes still pose a threat to sea otters during a second attempt. Unfortunately, we lack concrete evidence on what exactly caused this failure, but we can still work to test some these theories.

Source: Mike Baird.

An otter is an otter, no matter where you put it.

There is evidence that northern and southern sea otters are genetically distinct, to a certain degree (Valentine et al. 2008, Larson et al. 2012), and hypotheses have been put forward that the two subspecies may be behaviorally- and ecologically-distinct, too. Studies have shown that northern and southern sea otters have different sized and shaped skulls and teeth, which researchers hypothesize may be a specialized foraging adaptation for consuming different prey species (Campbell & Santana 2017, Timm-Davis et al. 2015). This view suggests that each subspecies has developed unique traits to adapt to the environmental conditions specific to their current ranges. Therefore, when considering which subspecies to bring to Oregon, managers should reintroduce the subspecies with traits better-suited to cope with the types of habitat, prey assemblages, and oceanographic conditions specific to Oregon.

However, other scientists hold the opposite view, and argue that “an otter is an otter” no matter where you put it. This perspective suggests that both subspecies have an equal chance at surviving in any type of suitable habitat because all otters behave in similar ways. Therefore, ecologically, it may not matter which subspecies managers bring to Oregon.

Source: Trover

Oregon doesn’t have enough sea otter habitat.

Kelp is considered important sea otter habitat. In areas with high sea otter densities, such as central and southern California, kelp forests are persistent throughout the year. However, in Oregon, our kelp primarily consists of bull kelp – a slightly more fragile species compared to the durable giant kelp in California. In winter, this bull kelp gets dislodged during intense storms, resulting in seasonal changes in kelp availability. Managers worry that this seasonality could reduce the amount of suitable habitat, to the point where Oregon may not be able to support sea otters.

Yet, we know sea otters used to exist here; therefore, we can assume there must have been some suitable habitat that may persist today. Furthermore, sea otters use a range of habitats, including estuaries, bays, and reefs (Laidre et al. 2009, Lafferty & Tinker 2014, Kvitek et al. 1988). Therefore, even during times when kelp is less abundant, sea otters could use these other forms of habitat along the Oregon coast. Luckily, we have the spatial tools and data to assess how much, where, and when we have suitable habitat, and I will specifically address this in my thesis.

They’ll eat everything!

Sea otters are famous for their voracious appetites for benthic invertebrates, some of which are of commercial and recreational importance to nearshore fisheries. In some cases, sea otters have significantly reduced prey densities, such as sea urchins and Dungeness crab (Garshelis & Garshelis 1984, Estes & Palmisano 1974). However, without a formal analysis, it’s difficult to know if sea otters will have similar impacts on Oregon’s nearshore species, as well as at spatial scale these impacts will occur and whether our fisheries will be affected. We can predict where sea otters are likely to occur based on the presence of suitable habitat, but foraging impacts could be more localized or widespread across sea otter’s entire potential range. To better anticipate these impacts, managers will need an understanding of how much sea otters eat, where foraging could occur based on the availability of prey, and where sea otters and fisheries are likely to interact. I will also address this concern in my thesis.

Source: Suzi Eszterhas

To reintroduce or not to reintroduce? That is the question.

I have found that many scientists and managers have strong opinions on whether it’s appropriate to bring sea otters back to Oregon. Those who argue against a reintroduction often highlight many of the theories already mentioned here – lack of habitat, potential impacts to fisheries, and genetics. While other opponents provided more logistical and practical justifications, such as confounding politics, as well as difficulties in getting public support and regulatory permission to move a federally-listed species.

In contrast, proponents of this idea argue that a reintroduction could augment the recovery of the species by providing additional habitat for the species to rebound to pre-exploitation levels, as well as allowing for increased gene flow between southern and northern sea otter populations. Other proponents have brought up potential benefits to humans, such restoring ecosystem services, providing an economic boost through tourism, or preserving tribal and cultural connections. Such benefits may be worth attempting another reintroduction effort.

As you can see, there are several opinions and perspectives related to a potential sea otter reintroduction to Oregon. While it’s important to consider all opinions, managers still need facts to make key decisions. Scientists can play an important role in providing this information, so managers can make a well-informed decision. Oregon managers have not yet decided whether to proceed with a sea otter reintroduction, but our lab is working to provide them with reliable and accurate science, so they may form their own opinions and arrive at their own decision.

References:

Estes, J. A. and J. F. Palmisano. 1974. Sea otters: the role in structuring nearshore communities. Science. 185: 1058-1060.

Garshelis, D. L. and J. A. Garshelis. 1984. Movements and management of sea otters in Alaska. The Journal of Wildlife Management. 48: 665-678.

Jameson, R. J, Kenyon, K. W., Johnson, A. M., and H. M. Wight. 1982. History and status of translocated sea otter populations in North America. Wildlife Society Bulletin. 10: 100-107.

Lafferty, K. D., and M. T. Tinker. 2014. Sea otters are recolonizing southern California in fits and starts. Ecosphere. 5(5).

Laidre, K. L., Jameson, R. J., Gurarie, E., Jeffries, S. J., and H. Allen. 2009. Spatial habitat use patterns of sea otters in coastal Washington. Journal of Mammalogy. 90(4): 906-917.

Kvitek, R. G. ,Fukayama, A. K., Anderson, B. S., and B. K. Grimm. 1988. Sea otter foraging on deep-burrowing bivalves in a California coastal lagoon. Marine Biology. 98: 157-167.

Larson, S., Jameson, R., Etnier, M., Jones, T., and R. Hall. 2012. Genetic diversity and population parameters of sea otters, Enhydra lutris, before fur trade extirpation from 1741-1911. PLoS ONE. 7(3).

Timm-Davis, L. L, DeWitt, T. J., and C. D. Marshall. 2015. Divergent skull morphology supports two trophic specializations in otters (Lutrinae). PLoS ONE. 10(12).

Valentine et al. 2008. Ancient DNA reveals genotypic relationships among Oregon populations of the sea otter (Enhydra lutris). Conservation Genetics. 9:933-938.

 

 

The Recipe for a “Perfect” Marine Mammal and Seabird Cruise

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

Science—and fieldwork in particular—is known for its failures. There are websites, blogs, and Twitter pages dedicated to them. This is why, when things go according to plan, I rejoice. When they go even better than expected, I practically tear up from amazement. There is no perfect recipe for a great marine mammal and seabird research cruise, but I would suggest that one would look like this:

 A Great Marine Mammal and Seabird Research Cruise Recipe:

  • A heavy pour of fantastic weather
    • Light on the wind and seas
    • Light on the glare
  • Equal parts amazing crew and good communication
  • A splash of positivity
  • A dash of luck
  • A pinch of delicious food
  • Heaps of marine mammal and seabird sightings
  • Heat to approximately 55-80 degrees F and transit for 10 days along transects at 10-12 knots
The end of another beautiful day at sea on the R/V Shimada. Image source: Alexa K.

The Northern California Current Ecosystem (NCCE) is a highly productive area that is home to a wide variety of cetacean species. Many cetaceans are indicator species of ecosystem health as they consume large quantities of prey from different levels in trophic webs and inhabit diverse areas—from deep-diving beaked whales to gray whales traveling thousands of miles along the eastern north Pacific Ocean. Because cetacean surveys are a predominant survey method in large bodies of water, they can be extremely costly. One alternative to dedicated cetacean surveys is using other research vessels as research platforms and effort becomes transect-based and opportunistic—with less flexibility to deviate from predetermined transects. This decreases expenses, creates collaborative research opportunities, and reduces interference in animal behavior as they are never pursued. Observing animals from large, motorized, research vessels (>100ft) at a steady, significant speed (>10kts/hour), provides a baseline for future, joint research efforts. The NCCE is regularly surveyed by government agencies and institutions on transects that have been repeated nearly every season for decades. This historical data provides critical context for environmental and oceanographic dynamics that impact large ecosystems with commercial and recreational implications.

My research cruise took place aboard the 208.5-foot R/V Bell M. Shimada in the first two weeks of May. The cruise was designated for monitoring the NCCE with the additional position of a marine mammal observer. The established guidelines did not allow for deviation from the predetermined transects. Therefore, mammals were surveyed along preset transects. The ship left port in San Francisco, CA and traveled as far north as Cape Meares, OR. The transects ranged from one nautical mile from shore and two hundred miles offshore. Observations occurred during “on effort” which was defined as when the ship was in transit and moving at a speed above 8 knots per hour dependent upon sea state and visibility. All observations took place on the flybridge during conducive weather conditions and in the bridge (one deck below the flybridge) when excessive precipitation was present. The starboard forward quarter: zero to ninety degrees was surveyed—based on the ship’s direction (with the bow at zero degrees). Both naked eye and 7×50 binoculars were used with at least 30 percent of time binoculars in use. To decrease observer fatigue, which could result in fewer detected sightings, the observer (me) rotated on a 40 minutes “on effort”, 20 minutes “off effort” cycle during long transits (>90 minutes).

Alexa on-effort using binoculars to estimate the distance and bearing of a marine mammal sighted off the starboard bow. Image source: Alexa K.

Data was collected using modifications to the SEEbird Wincruz computer program on a ruggedized laptop and a GPS unit was attached. At the beginning of each day and upon changes in conditions, the ship’s heading, weather conditions, visibility, cloud cover, swell height, swell direction, and Beaufort sea state (BSS) were recorded. Once the BSS or visibility was worse than a “5” (1 is “perfect” and 5 is “very poor”) observations ceased until there was improvement in weather. When a marine mammal was sighted the latitude and longitude were recorded with the exact time stamp. Then, I noted how the animal was sighted—either with binoculars or naked eye—and what action was originally noticed—blow, splash, bird, etc. The bearing and distance were noted using binoculars. The animal was given three generalized behavior categories: traveling, feeding, or milling. A sighting was defined as any marine mammal or group of animals. Therefore, a single sighting would have the species and the best, high, and low estimates for group size.

By my definitions, I had the research cruise of my dreams. There were moments when I imagined people joining this trip as a vacation. I *almost* felt guilty. Then, I remember that after watching water for almost 14 hours (thanks to the amazing weather conditions), I worked on data and reports and class work until midnight. That’s the part that no one talks about: the data. Fieldwork is about collecting data. It’s both what I live for and what makes me nervous. The amount of time, effort, and money that is poured into fieldwork is enormous. The acquisition of the data is not as simple as it seems. When I briefly described my position on this research cruise to friends, they interpret it to be something akin to whale-watching. To some extent, this is true. But largely, it’s grueling hours that leave you fatigued. The differences between fieldwork and what I’ll refer to as “everything else” AKA data analysis, proposal writing, manuscript writing, literature reviewing, lab work, and classwork, are the unbroken smile, the vaguely tanned skin, the hours of laughter, the sea spray, and the magical moments that reassure me that I’ve chosen the correct career path.

Alexa photographing a gray whale at sunset near Newport, OR. Image source: Alexa K.

This cruise was the second leg of the Northern California Current Ecosystem (NCCE) survey, I was the sole Marine Mammal and Seabird Observer—a coveted position. Every morning, I would wake up at 0530hrs, grab some breakfast, and climb to the highest deck: the fly-bridge. Akin to being on the top of the world, the fly-bridge has the best views for the widest span. From 0600hrs to 2000hrs I sat, stood, or danced in a one-meter by one-meter corner of the fly-bridge and surveyed. This visual is why people think I’m whale watching. In reality, I am constantly busy. Nonetheless, I had weather and seas that scientists dream about—and for 10 days! To contrast my luck, you can read Florence’s blog about her cruise. On these same transects, in February, Florence experienced 20-foot seas with heavy rain with very few marine mammal sightings—and of those, the only cetaceans she observed were gray whales close to shore. That starkly contrasts my 10 cetacean species with upwards of 45 sightings and my 20-minute hammock power naps on the fly-bridge under the warm sun.

Pacific white-sided dolphins traveling nearby. Image source: Alexa K.

Marine mammal sightings from this cruise included 10 cetacean species: Pacific white-sided dolphin, Dall’s porpoise, unidentified beaked whale, Cuvier’s beaked whale, gray whale, Minke whale, fin whale, Northern right whale dolphin, blue whale, humpback whale, and transient killer whale and one pinniped species: northern fur seal. What better way to illustrate these sightings than with a map? We are a geospatial lab after all.

Cetacean Sightings on the NCCE Cruise in May 2018. Image source: Alexa K.

This map is the result of data collection. However, it does not capture everything that was observed: sea state, weather, ocean conditions, bathymetry, nutrient levels, etc. There are many variables that can be added to maps–like this one (thanks to my GIS classes I can start adding layers!)–that can provide a better understanding of the ecosystem, predator-prey dynamics, animal behavior, and population health.

The catch from a bottom trawl at a station with some fish and a lot of pyrosomes (pink tube-like creatures). Image source: Alexa K.

Being a Ph.D. student can be physically and mentally demanding. So, when I was offered the opportunity to hone my data collection skills, I leapt for it. I’m happiest in the field: the wind in my face, the sunshine on my back, surrounded by cetaceans, and filled with the knowledge that I’m following my passion—and that this data is contributing to the greater scientific community.

Humpback whale photographed traveling southbound. Image source: Alexa K.

“The joy of paper acceptance” or “The GEMM Lab’s recent scientific contributions”

Dr. Leigh Torres, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab, Marine Mammal Institute, Oregon State University

The GEMM Lab is always active – running field projects, leading outreach events, giving seminars, hosting conferences, analyzing data, mentoring young scientists, oh the list goes on! (Yes, I am a proud lab PI). And, recently we have had a flurry of scientific papers either published or accepted for publication that I want to highlight. These are all great pieces of work that demonstrate our quality work, poignant and applied science, and strong collaborations. For each paper listed below I provide a short explanation of the study and implications. (Those names underlined are GEMM Lab members, and I provided a weblink where available.)

 

Sullivan, F.A. & Torres, L.G. Assessment of vessel disturbance to gray whales to inform sustainable ecotourism. The Journal of Wildlife Management, doi:10.1002/jwmg.21462.

This project integrated research and outreach regarding gray whale behavioral response to vessels. We simultaneously tracked whales and vessels, and data analysis showed significant differences in gray whale activity budgets when vessels were nearby. Working with stakeholders, we translated these results into community-developed vessel operation guidelines and an informational brochure to help mitigate impacts on whales.

 

Hann, C., Stelle, L., Szabo, A. & Torres, L. (2018) Obstacles and Opportunities of Using a Mobile App for Marine Mammal Research. ISPRS International Journal of Geo-Information, 7, 169. http://www.mdpi.com/2220-9964/7/5/169

This study demonstrates the strengths (fast and cheap data collection) and weaknesses (spatially biased data) of marine mammal data collected using the mobile app Whale mAPP. We emphasize the need for increased citizen science participation to overcome obstacles, which will enable this data collection method to achieve its great potential.

 

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

This study used genetics, acoustics, and photo-id to document a new population of blue whales around New Zealand that is genetically isolated, has high year-round residence, and shows limited connectivity to other blue whale populations. This discovery has important implication for population management, especially in the South Taranaki Bight region of New Zealand where the whales forage among industrial activity.

 

Burnett, J.D., Lemos, L., Barlow, D.R., Wing, M.G., Chandler, T.E. & Torres, L.G. (in press) Estimating morphometric attributes of baleen whales with photogrammetry from small UAS: A case study with blue and gray whales. Marine Mammal Science.

Here we developed methods to measure whale body morphometrics using images captured via Unmanned Aerial Systems (UAS; ‘drones’). The paper presents three freely available analysis programs and a protocol to help the community standardize methods, assess and minimize error, and compare data between studies.

 

Holdman, A.K., Haxel, J.H., Klinck, H. & Torres, L.G. (in press) Acoustic monitoring reveals the times and tides of harbor porpoise distribution off central Oregon, USA. Marine Mammal Science.

Right off the Newport, Oregon harbor entrance we listened for harbor porpoises at two locations using hydrophones. We found that porpoise presence at the shallow rocky reef site corresponds with the ebb tidal phase, while harbor porpoise presence at the deeper site with sandy bottom was associated with night-time foraging. It appears that harbor porpoise change their spatial and temporal patterns of habitat use to increase their foraging efficiency.

 

Derville, S., Torres, L.G., Iovan, C. & Garrigue, C. (in press) Finding the right fit: Comparative cetacean distribution models using multiple data sources. Diversity and Distributions.

Species distribution models (SDM) are used widely to understand the drivers of cetacean distribution patterns, and to predict their space-use patterns too. Using humpback whale sighting datasets in New Caledonia, this study explores the performance of different SDM algorithms (GAM, BRT, MAXENT,  GLM, SVM) and methods of modeling presence-only data. We highlight the importance of controlling for model overfitting and thorough model validation.

 

Bishop, A.M., Brown, C., Rehberg, M., Torres, L.G. & Horning, M. (in press) Juvenile Steller sea lion (Eumetopias jubatus) utilization distributions in the Gulf of Alaska. Movement Ecology.

This study examines the distribution patterns of juvenile Steller sea lions in the Gulf of Alaska to gain a better understanding of the habitat needs of this vulnerable demographic group within a threatened population. Utilization distributions were derived for 84 tagged sea lions, which showed sex, seasonal and spatial differences. This information will support the development of a species recovery plan.

This comic seemed appropriate here. Thanks for everyone’s hard work!

Forecasting blue whale presence: Small steps toward big goals

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

In 2013, Leigh first published a hypothesis that the South Taranaki Bight region between New Zealand’s North and South Islands is important habitat for blue whales  (Torres 2013). Since then, we have collected three years of data and conducted dedicated analyses, so we now understand that a unique population of blue whales is found in New Zealand, and that they are present in the South Taranaki Bight year-round (Barlow et al. in press).

A blue whale surfaces in the South Taranaki Bight. Photo by Leigh Torres.

This research has garnered quite a bit of political and media attention. A major platform item for the New Zealand Green Party around the last election was the establishment of a marine mammal sanctuary in the South Taranaki Bight. When the world’s largest seismic survey vessel began surveying the South Taranaki Bight this summer for more oil and gas reserves using tremendously loud airguns, there were rallies on the lawn in front of Parliament featuring a large inflatable blue whale that the protesters affectionately refer to as “Janet”. Needless to say, blue whales have made their way into the spotlight in New Zealand.

Janet the inflatable blue whale accompanies protesters on the lawn in front of Parliament in Wellington, New Zealand. Image credit: Greenpeace.

Now that we know there is a unique population of blue whales in New Zealand, what is next? What’s next for me is an exciting combination of both ecology and conservation. If an effective sanctuary is to be implemented, it needs to be more than a simple box drawn on a map to check off a political agenda item—the sanctuary should be informed by our best ecological knowledge of the blue whales and their habitat.

In July, Leigh and I will attend the Society for Conservation Biology meeting in Wellington, New Zealand, and I’ll be giving a presentation titled “Cloudy with a chance of whales: Forecasting blue whale presence based on tiered, bottom-up models”. I’ll be the first to admit, I am not yet forecasting blue whale presence. But I am working my way there, step-by-step, through this tiered, bottom-up approach. In cetacean habitat modeling, we often assume that whale distribution on a foraging ground is determined by their prey’s distribution, and that satellite images of temperature and chlorophyll-a provide an accurate picture of what is going on below the surface. Is this true? With our three years of data including in situ oceanography, krill hydroacoustics, and blue whale distribution and behavior, we are in a unique position to test some of those assumptions, as well as provide managers with an informed management tool to predict blue whale distribution.

What questions will we ask using our data? Firstly, can in situ oceanography (i.e., thermocline depth and temperature, mixed layer depth) predict the distribution and density of blue whale prey (krill)? Then, can those prey patterns be accurately predicted in the absence of oceanographic measurements, using just satellite images? Next, we’ll bring the blue whales back into the picture to ask: can we predict blue whale distribution based on our in situ measurements of oceanography and prey? And finally, in the absence of in situ measurements (which is most often the case), can we forecast where the whales will be based just on remotely-sensed images of the region?

The transducer pole in the water off the RV Star Keys (left) deployed with the echosounder to collect prey availability data, including this image (right) of krill swarms near feeding blue whales. Photo by Leigh Torres.

So, cloudy with a chance of whales? Well, you’ll have to stay tuned for that story in the coming months. In the meantime, I can tell you that as daunting as it is to aggregate so many data streams, each step of the way has a piece of the story to tell. I can’t wait to see how it falls together, both from an ecological modeling perspective and a conservation management objective.

A blue whale surfaces in front of a floating production storage and offloading (FPSO) vessel which services the oil rigs in the South Taranaki Bight. Photo by Dawn Barlow.

 

References:

Torres, L. G. (2013). Evidence for an unrecognised blue whale foraging ground in New Zealand. New Zealand Journal of Marine and Freshwater Research, 47(2), 235-248.

Barlow, D. R., Torres, L. G., Hodge, K. B., Steel, D. Baker, C. S., 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. (in press). Documentation of a New Zealand blue whale population based on multiple lines of evidence. Endangered Species Research. 

Assessing suitable sea otter habitat along Oregon’s coast

By Dominique Kone, Masters Student in Marine Resource Management

When considering a species reintroduction into an area, it is important to assess the suitability of the area’s habitat before such efforts begin. By doing this assessment at the outset, managers and conservationists can gain a better understanding of the capacity of the area to support a viable population overtime, and ultimately the success of the reintroduction. However, to do a habitat assessment, researchers must first have a base understanding of the species’ ecological characteristics, behavior, and the physical habitat features necessary for the species’ survival. For my thesis, I plan to conduct a similar assessment to identify suitable sea otter habitat to inform a potential sea otter reintroduction to the Oregon coast.

Source: The Tribune.

To start my assessment, I conducted a literature review of studies that observed and recorded the various types of habitats where sea otters currently exist. In my research, I learned that sea otters use in a range of environments, each with a unique set of habitat characteristics. With so many features to sort through, I have focused on specific habitat features that are consistent across most of the current range of sea otters – from Alaska to California – and are important for at least some aspects of sea otters’ everyday life or behavior, specifically foraging. Focusing my analysis on foraging habitat makes sense as sea otters require around 30% of their body weight in food every day (Costa 1978, Reidman & Estes 1990). Meaning sea otters spend most of their day searching for food.

Here, I present four habitat features I will incorporate into my analysis and explain why these features are important for sea otter foraging behavior and survival.

Habitat Features:

  1. Kelp: Sea otters are famously known for the benefits they provide to kelp forests. In the classic three-trophic-level model, sea otters allow for the growth of kelp by keeping sea urchins – consumers of kelp – in check (Estes & Palmisano 1974). Additionally, sea otters and kelp have a mutually-beneficial relationship. Sea otters will often wrap themselves amongst the top of kelp stocks while feeding, resting, or grooming to prevent being carried away by surface currents. Meanwhile, it’s thought that kelp provide a refuge for sea otters seeking to avoid predators, such as sharks, as well as their prey.
Source: The Telegraph.
  1. Distance from Kelp: The use of kelp, by sea otters, is relatively straight-forward. Yet, kelp can still have an influence on sea otter behavior even when not used directly. A 2014 study found that sea otters along the southern California coast were almost 10 times more likely to be located within kelp habitat than outside, while outside kelp beds sea otter numbers declined with distance from the edge of kelp canopies. Sea otters will often forage outside or next to kelp canopies when prey’s available, and even sometimes to socialize in age- or sex-specific rafts (Lafferty & Tinker 2014). These findings indicate that sea otters can and do regularly disperse away from kelp habitat, but because they’re so dependent on kelp, they don’t stray very far.

 

  1. Seafloor Substrate: Sea otters forage over a variety of sediment substrates, including rocks, gravel, seagrass, and even sometimes sand. For example, sea otters hunt sea urchins over rocky substrates, while in other areas they may hunt for crabs in seagrass beds (Estes & Palmisano 1974, Hughes et al. 2014). The type of substrate sea otters forage in typically depends on the substrate needs of their target prey species. Despite some variability across their range, sea otters predominantly forage in rocky substrate environments. Rocky substrate is also necessary for kelp, whose holdfasts need to attach to hard, stable surfaces (Carney et al. 2005).
Source: Save our Seas Foundation.
  1. Depth: Seafloor depth plays a pivotal role in sea otter foraging behavior and therefore acts as a natural boundary that determines how far away from shore sea otters distribute. Many of the prey species sea otters eat – including sea urchins, crabs, and snails – live on the seafloor of the inner continental shelf, requiring sea otters to dive when foraging. Interestingly, sea otters exhibit a non-linear relationship with depth, where most individuals forage at intermediate depths as opposed to extremely shallow or deep waters. One study found the average foraging depth to be around 15 meters (Lafferty & Tinker 2014). This behavior results in a hump-shaped distribution of diving patterns as illustrated in Figure 1 below.
Figure 1. Average probability of occurrence as a function of depth for female (A) and male (B) sea otters as predicted by a synoptic model of space-use (Tinker et al. 2017).

Of course, local conditions and available habitat are always a factor. For example, a study found that sea otters along the coast of Washington foraged further from shore and in slightly shallower environments than sea otters in California (Laidre et al. 2009), indicating that local topography is important in determining distribution. Additionally, diving requires energy and limits how deep sea otters are able to forage for prey. Therefore, diving patterns are not only a function of local topography, but also availability of prey and foraging efficiency in exploiting that prey. Regardless, most sea otter populations follow this hump-shaped diving pattern.

Source: Doretta Smith.

These features are not a complete list of all habitat characteristics that support viable sea otter populations, but seem to be the most consistent throughout their entire range, as well as present in Oregon’s nearshore environment – making them ideal features to include in my analysis. Furthermore, other studies that have predicted suitable sea otter habitat (Tinker et al. 2017), estimated carrying capacity as a product of suitable habitat identification (Laidre et al. 2002), or simply observed sea otter foraging behavior (Estes & Palmisano 1974), have echoed the importance of these four habitat features to sea otter survival.

As with most reintroduction efforts, the process of identifying suitable habitat for the species of interest can be complicated. No two ecosystems or habitats are exactly alike and each comprise their own unique set of physical features and are impacted by environmental processes to varying degrees. The Oregon coast consists of a unique combination of oceanographic conditions and drivers that likely impact the degree and amount of available habitat to sea otters. Despite this, by focusing on the habitat features that are consistently preferred by sea otters across most of their range, I will be able to identify habitat most suitable for sea otter survival in Oregon. The questions of where this habitat is and how much is available are what I’ll determine soon, so stay tuned.

References:

Carney, L. T., Robert Waaland, J., Kilinger, T., and K. Ewing. 2005. Restoration of the bull kelp Nereocystis luetkeana in nearshore rocky habitats. Marine Ecology Progress Series. 302: 49-61.

Costas, D. P. 1978. The ecological energetics, waters, and electrolyte balance of the California sea otter (Enhydra lutris). Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Santa Cruz.

Estes, J. A. and J. F. Palmisano. 1974. Sea otters: their role in structuring nearshore communities. Science. 185(4156): 1058-1060.

Hughes et al. 2014. Recovery of a top predator mediate negative eutrophic effects on seagrass. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. 110(38): 15313-15318.

Lafferty, K. D. and M. T. Tinker. 2014. Sea otters are recolonizing southern California in fits and starts. Ecosphere. 5(5): 1-11.

Laidre et al. 2002. Estimates of carrying capacity for sea otters in Washington state. Wildlife Society Bulletin. 30(4): 1172-1181.

Laidre et al. 2009. Spatial habitat use patterns of sea otters in coastal Washington. Journal of Mammalogy. 90(4): 906-917.

Tinker et al. 2017. Southern sea otter range expansion and habitat use in the Santa Barbara Channel, California: U.S. Geological Survey Open-File Report 2017-1001 (OCS Study BOEM 2017-022), 76 p., http://doi.org/10.3133/ofr20171001.

Reidman, M. L. and J. A. Estes. 1990. The sea otter (Enhydra lutris): behavior, ecology, and natural history. United States Department of the Interior, Fish and Wildlife Service, Biological Report. 90: 1-126.

 

 

Managing Oceans: the inner-workings of marine policy

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

When we hear “marine policy” we broadly lump it together with environmental policy. However, marine ecosystems differ greatly from their terrestrial counterparts. We wouldn’t manage a forest like an ocean, nor would we manage an ocean like a forest. Why not? The answer to this question is complex and involves everything from ecology to politics.

Oceans do not have borders; they are fluid and dynamic. Interestingly, by defining marine ecosystems we are applying some kind of borders. But water (and all its natural and unnatural content) flows between these ‘ecosystems’. Marine ecosystems are home to a variety of anthropogenic activities such as transportation and recreation, in addition to an abundance of species that represent the three major domains of biology: Archaea, Bacteria, and Eukarya. Humans are the only creatures who “recognize” the borders that policymakers and policy actors have instilled. A migrating gray whale does not have a passport stamped as it travels from its breeding grounds in Mexican waters to its feeding grounds in the Gulf of Alaska. In contrast, a large cargo ship—or even a small sailing vessel—that crosses those boundaries is subjected to a series of immigration checkpoints. Combining these human and the non-human facets makes marine policy complex and variable.

The eastern Pacific gray whale migration route includes waters off of Mexico, Canada, and the United States. Source: https://www.learner.org/jnorth/tm/gwhale/annual/map.html

Environmental policy of any kind can be challenging. Marine environmental policy adds many more convoluted layers in terms of unknowns; marine ecosystems are understudied relative to terrestrial ecosystems and therefore have less research conducted on how to best manage them. Additionally, there are more hands in the cookie jar, so to speak; more governments and more stakeholders with more opinions (Leslie and McLeod 2007). So, with fewer examples of successful ecosystem-based management in coastal and marine environments and more institutions with varied goals, marine ecosystems become challenging to manage and monitor.

A visual representation of what can happen when there are many groups with different goals: no one can easily get what they want. Image Source: The Brew Monks

With this in mind, it is understandable that there is no official manual on policy development.  There is, however, a broadly standardized process of how to develop, implement, and evaluate environmental policies: 1) recognize a problem 2) propose a solution 3) choose a solution 4) put the solution into effect and 4) monitor the results (Zacharias pp. 16-21). For a policy to be deemed successful, specific criteria must be met, which means that a common policy is necessary for implementation and enforcement. Within the United States, there are a multiple governing bodies that protect the ocean, including the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS), and the Department of Defense (DoD)—all of which have different mission statements, budgets, and proposals. To create effective environmental policies, collaboration between various groups is imperative. Nevertheless, bringing these groups together, even those within the same nation, requires time, money, and flexibility.

This is not to say that environmental policy for terrestrial systems, but there are fewer moving parts to manage. For example, a forest in the United States would likely not be an international jurisdiction case because the borders are permanent lines and national management does not overlap. However, at a state level, jurisdiction may overlap with potentially conflicting agendas. A critical difference in management strategies is preservation versus conservation. Preservation focuses on protecting nature from use and discourages altering the environment. Conservation, centers on wise-use practices that allow for proper human use of environments such as resource use for economic groups. One environmental group may believe in preservation, while one government agency may believe in conservation, creating friction amongst how the land should be used: timber harvest, public use, private purchasing, etc.

Linear representation of preservation versus conservation versus exploitation. Image Source: Raoof Mostafazadeh

Furthermore, a terrestrial forest has distinct edges with measurable and observable qualities; it possesses intrinsic and extrinsic values that are broadly recognized because humans have been utilizing them for centuries. Intrinsic values are things that people can monetize, such as commercial fisheries or timber harvests whereas extrinsic values are things that are challenging to put an actual price on in terms of biological diversity, such as the enjoyment of nature or the role of species in pest management; extrinsic values generally have a high level of human subjectivity because the context of that “resource” in question varies upon circumstances (White 2013). Humans are more likely to align positively with conservation policies if there are extrinsic benefits to them; therefore, anthropocentric values associated with the resources are protected (Rode et al. 2015). Hence, when creating marine policy, monetary values are often placed on the resources, but marine environments are less well-studied due to lack of accessibility and funding, making any valuation very challenging.

The differences between direct (intrinsic) versus indirect (extrinsic) values to biodiversity that factor into environmental policy. Image Source: Conservationscienceblog.wordpress.com

Assigning a cost or benefit to environmental services is subjective (Dearborn and Kark 2010). What is the benefit to a child seeing an endangered killer whale for the first time? One could argue priceless. In order for conservation measures to be implemented, values—intrinsic and extrinsic—are assigned to the goods and services that the marine environment provides—such as seafood and how the ocean functions as a carbon sink. Based off of the four main criteria used to evaluate policy, the true issue becomes assessing the merit and worth. There is an often-overlooked flaw with policy models: it assumes rational behavior (Zacharias 126). Policy involves relationships and opinions, not only the scientific facts that inform them; this is true in terrestrial and marine environments. People have their own agendas that influence, not only the policies themselves, but the speed at which they are proposed and implemented.

Tourists aboard a whale-watching vessel off of the San Juan Islands, enjoying orca in the wild. Image Source: Seattle Orca Whale Watching

One example of how marine policy evolves is through groups, such as the International Whaling Commission, that gather to discuss such policies while representing many different stakeholders. Some cultures value the whale for food, others for its contributions to the surrounding ecosystems—such as supporting healthy seafood populations. Valuing one over the other goes beyond a monetary value and delves deeper into the cultures, politics, economics, and ethics. Subjectivity is the name of the game in environmental policy, and, in marine environmental policy, there are many factors unaccounted for, that decision-making is incredibly challenging.

Efficacy in terms of the public policy for marine systems presents a challenge because policy happens slowly, as does research. There is no equation that fits all problems because the variables are different and dynamic; they change based on the situation and can be unpredictable. When comparing institutional versus impact effectiveness, they both are hard to measure without concrete goals (Leslie and McLeod 2007). Marine ecosystems are open environments which add an additional hurdle: setting measurable and achievable goals. Terrestrial environments contain resources that more people utilize, more frequently, and therefore have more set goals. Without a problem and potential solution there is no policy. Terrestrial systems have problems that humans recognize. Marine systems have problems that are not as visible to people on a daily basis. Therefore, terrestrial systems have more solutions presented to mitigate problems and more policies enacted.

As marine scientists, we don’t always immediately consider how marine policy impacts our research. In the case of my project, marine policy is something I constantly have to consider. Common bottlenose dolphins are protected under the Marine Mammal Protection Act (MMPA) and inhabit coastal of both the United States and Mexico, including within some Marine Protected Areas (MPA). In addition, some funding for the project comes from NOAA and the DoD. Even on the surface-level it is clear that policy is something we must consider as marine scientists—whether we want to or not. We may do our best to inform policymakers with results and education based on our research, but marine policy requires value-based judgements based on politics, economics, and human objectivity—all of which are challenging to harmonize into a succinct problem with a clear solution.

Two common bottlenose dolphins (coastal ecotype) traveling along the Santa Barbara, CA shoreline. Image Source: Alexa Kownacki

References:

Dearborn, D. C. and Kark, S. 2010. Motivations for Conserving Urban Biodiversity. Conservation Biology, 24: 432-440. doi:10.1111/j.1523-1739.2009.01328.x

Leslie, H. M. and McLeod, K. L. (2007), Confronting the challenges of implementing marine ecosystem‐based management. Frontiers in Ecology and the Environment, 5: 540-548. doi:10.1890/060093

Munguia, P., and A. F. Ojanguren. 2015. Bridging the gap in marine and terrestrial studies. Ecosphere 6(2):25. http://dx.doi.org/10.1890/ES14-00231.1

Rode, J., Gomez-Baggethun, E., Krause, M., 2015. Motivation crowding by economic payments in conservation policy: a review of the empirical evidence. Ecol. Econ. 117, 270–282 (in this issue).

White, P. S. (2013), Derivation of the Extrinsic Values of Biological Diversity from Its Intrinsic Value and of Both from the First Principles of Evolution. Conservation Biology, 27: 1279-1285. doi:10.1111/cobi.12125

Zacharias, M. 2014. Marine Policy. London: Routledge.

 

Robots are taking over the oceans

By Leila Lemos, PhD Student

In the past few weeks I read an article on the use of aquatic robots in the ocean for research. Since my PhD project uses technology, such as drones and GoPros, to monitor body condition of gray whales and availability of prey along the Oregon coast, I became really interested by the new perspective these robots could provide. Drones produce aerial images while GoPros generate an underwater-scape snapshot. The possible new perspective provided by a robot under the water could be amazing and potentially be used in many different applications.

The article was published on March 21st by The New York Times, and described a new finned robot named “SoFi” or “Sophie”, short for Soft Robotic Fish (Figure 1; The New York Times 2018). The aquatic robot was designed by scientists at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Lab, with the purpose of studying marine life in their natural habitats.

Figure 1: “SoFi”, a robotic fish designed by MIT scientists.
Source: The New York Times 2018.

 

SoFi’s  first swim trial occurred in a coral reef in Fiji, and the footage recorded can be seen in the following video:

 

SoFi can swim at depths up to 18 meters and at speeds up to half-its-body-length a second (average of 23.5 cm/s in a straight path; Katzschmann et al. 2018). Sofi can swim for up to ~40 minutes, as limited by battery time. The robot is also well-equipped (Figure 2). It has a compact buoyancy control mechanism and includes a wide-view video camera, a hydrophone, a battery, environmental sensors, and operating and communication systems. The operating and communication systems allow a diver to issue commands by using a controller that operates through sound waves.

Figure 2: “SoFi” system subcomponents overview.
Source: Katzschmann et al. 2018.

 

The robot designers highlight that while SoFi was swimming, fish didn’t seem to be bothered or get scared by SoFi’s presence. Some fish were seen swimming nearby the robot, suggesting that SoFi has the potential to integrate into the natural underwater environment and therefore record undisturbed behaviors. However, a limitation of this invention is that SoFi needs a diver on scene to control the robot. Therefore, SoFi’s study of marine life without human interference may be compromised until technology develops further.

Another potential impact of SoFi we might be concerned about is noise. Does this device produce noise levels that marine fauna can sense or maybe be stress by? Unfortunately, the answer is yes. Even if fish don’t seem to be bothered by SoFi’s presence, it might bother other animals with hearing sensitivity in the same frequency range of SoFi. Katzschmann and colleagues (2018) explained that they chose a frequency to operate SoFi that would minimally impact marine fauna. They studied the frequencies used by the aquatic animals and, since the hearing ranges of most aquatic species decays significantly above 10 KHz, they selected a frequency above this range (i.e., 36 KHz). However, this high frequency range can be sensed by some species of cetaceans and pinnipeds, but negative affects on these animals will be dependent on the sound amplitude that is produced.

Although not perfect (but what tool is?), SoFi can be seen as a great first step toward a future of underwater robots to assist research efforts.  Battery life, human disturbance, and noise disturbance are limitations, but through thoughtful application and continued innovation this fishy tool can be the start of something great.

The use of aquatic robots, such as SoFi, can help us advance our knowledge in underwater ecosystems. These robots could promote a better understanding of marine life in their natural habitat by studying behaviors, interactions and responses to threats. These robots may offer important new tools in the protection of animals against the effects caused by anthropogenic activities. Additionally, the use of aquatic robots in scientific research may substitute remote operated vehicles and submersibles in some circumstances, such as how drones are substituting for airplanes sometimes, thus providing a less expensive and better-tolerated way of monitoring wildlife.

Through continued multidisciplinary collaboration by robot designers, biologists, meteorologists, and more, innovation will continue allowing data collection with minimal to non-disturbance to the wildlife, providing lower costs and higher safety for the researchers.

It is impressive to see how technology efforts are expanding into the oceans. As drones are conquering our skies today and bringing so much valuable information on wildlife monitoring, I believe that the same will occur in our oceans in a near future, assisting in marine life conservation.

 

 

References:

Katzschmann RK, DelPreto J, MacCurdy R, Rus D. 2018. Exploration of Underwater Life with an Acoustically Controlled Soft Robotic Fish. Sci. Robot. 3, eaar3449. DOI: 10.1126/scirobotics.aar3449.

The New York Times. 2018. Robotic Fish to Keep a Fishy Eye on the Health of the Oceans. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2018/03/21/science/robot-fish.html.

When are seabirds at their breeding colonies?

By Rachael Orben PhD., Research Associate in the Seabird Oceanography Lab and GEMM Lab

When are seabirds at their breeding colonies? 

As the weather warms-up, and spring arrives to the Oregon Coast, seabirds (and seabird biologists) are starting to get busy. One vital task is monitoring annual trends in seabird abundance. Identifying whether seabird populations have increased, declined or remained stable over time is an important ecosystem indicator and a conservation management metric.

Most seabirds arrive at breeding colonies just prior to egg laying, and then leave after their chicks fledge. Within this time seabirds reunite with their mate, defend their nesting territory, build a nest, lay eggs, and feed their chicks. Biologists often count individual birds or nests to estimate population size. This method works well when birds are nesting in easy to observe locations. However, seabirds often nest on inaccessible cliff faces, or in underground burrows. How do we count these difficult to reach and difficult to see species?

This is an important challenge, because burrow nesting seabirds comprise roughly 45% of all seabird species, yet typically little is known about colony specific population trends of these species. 

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Metrics of abundance

For these cases where counts of seabirds are logistically difficult, the alternative metric of colony attendance becomes important.  Like count data, a meaningful index of abundance can be compared from year to year to follow population changes. For burrow nesting seabirds, this is probably the best method to understanding population dynamics. But, abundance metrics, counts of birds or calls, are complicated and can be influenced by multiple factors, including weather, predators, time of day, time of the breeding cycle, and proportion of non-breeders in a population. (Harding et al. 2005, Cadiou 2008, Mallory et al. 2009).

I conducted a quick search for scientific papers in the Web of Science database and found that although colony attendance is assessed in seabird studies, it is currently nowhere near as “hot” a research topic as tracking the spatial movements of seabirds. This pattern makes sense when you consider the importance of understanding where birds find their food, and that the tracking technology to do this was not available until the early 2000s (Burger & Shaffer 2008). We are still at a point where new species are being tracked as technology improves, and movement patterns are revealing the many facets of seabird ecology.

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Developing Technology

Technology has also improved for monitoring colony attendance. Instead of sitting at a puffin colony in the wind and rain making repeated counts throughout the day, biologists can now use cameras or even acoustic recorders to record activity (Huffeldt & Merkel 2013, Borker et al. 2015). Then the data processing and counting happen back in the office (with a warm cup of coffee in hand). Through automated processing of sound and image files suddenly seabird colony attendance becomes a “Big Data” problem (see red-legged kittiwake detection with Azure ML Workbench).

Selected images from a trail camera set up to monitor Leach’s storm petrels. Photos: Seabird Oceanography Lab.

There is much we still don’t know about when and why seabirds attend their breeding colonies, and these new tools have much to offer in terms of data quantity. With dense datasets, it becomes possible to tease apart multiple factors that sometimes make interpretation challenging. Colony attendance data has many uses, including testing for anthropogenic effects, understanding seabird responses to weather, and detecting changes in populations over time. If you are reading this consider using cameras or acoustic recorders to monitor colony attendance at your favorite seabird colony!

References

Borker AL, Halbert P, McKown MW, Tershy BR, Croll DA (2015) A comparison of automated and traditional monitoring techniques for marbled murrelets using passive acoustic sensors. Wildlife Society Bulletin 39:813–818

Burger AE, Shaffer SA (2008) Application of Tracking and Data-Logging Technology in Research and Conservation of Seabirds. The Auk 125:253–264

Cadiou B (2008) Attendance off breeders and prospectors reflects the quality off colonies in the Kittiwake Rissa tridactyla. Ibis 141:321–326

Harding AMA, Piatt JF, Byrd GV, Hatch SA, Konyukhov NB, Golubova EU, Williams JC (2005) Variability in Colony Attendance of Crevice- Nesting Horned Puffins: Implications for Population Monitoring (Peterson, Ed.). Journal of Wildlife Management 69:1279–1296

Huffeldt NP, Merkel FR (2013) Remote Time-lapse Photography as a Monitoring Tool for Colonial Breeding Seabirds: A Case Study Using Thick-billed Murres (Uria lomvia). Waterbirds 36:330–341

Mallory ML, Gaston AJ, Forbes MR, Gilchrist HG (2009) Factors Influencing Colony Attendance by Northern Fulmars in the Canadian Arctic. Arctic 62:151–158

 

Some advice on how to navigate the scientific publication maze

Dr. Leigh Torres, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab, Marine Mammal Institute, Oregon State University

Publication of our science in peer-reviewed journals is an extremely important part of our lives as scientists. It’s how we communicate our work, check each other’s work, and improve, develop and grow our scientific fields. So when our manuscript is finally written with great content, we could use some instructions for how to get it through the publication process.  Who gets authorship? How do I respond to reviewers? Who pays for publication costs?

There is some good advice online about manuscript preparation and selecting the right journal. But there is no blueprint for manuscript preparation. That’s because it’s a complicated and variable process to navigate, even when you’ve done it many times. Every paper is different. Every journal has different content and format requirements. And every authorship list is different, with different expectations. As an academic supervisor of many graduate students, and as author on many peer-reviewed papers, I have seen or been a part of more than a few publication blunders, hiccups, road-blocks, and challenges.

Recently I’ve had students puzzle over the nuances of the publication process: “I had no idea that was my role as lead author!”, “How do I tell a reviewer he’s wrong?”, “Who should I recommend as reviewers?” So, I have put together some advice about how to navigate through a few of the more common pitfalls and questions of the scientific publication process. I’m not going to focus on manuscript content, structure, or journal choice – that advice is elsewhere and for authors to evaluate. My intent here is to discuss some of the ‘unwritten’ topics and expectations of the publication process. This guidance and musings are based my 20 years of experience as a scientist trying to navigate the peer-review publication maze myself. I encourage others to add their advice and comments below based on their experiences so that we can engage as a community in an open dialog about these topics, and add transparency to an already difficult and grueling, albeit necessary, process.

Image Credit: Nick at http://www.lab-initio.com/

 

Authorship: Deciding who should – and shouldn’t be – be a co-author on a paper is often a challenging, sensitive, and angst-filled experience. Broad collaboration is so common and often necessary today that we often see very long author lists on papers. It’s best to be inclusive and recognize contribution where it is deserved, but we also don’t want to be handing out co-authorship as a token of appreciation or just to pad someone’s CV or boost their H-index. Indeed, journals don’t want that, and we don’t want to promote that trend. Sometimes it is more appropriate to recognize someone’s contribution in the acknowledgements section.

The best advice I can give about how to determine authorship is advice that was given to me by my graduate advisor, Dr. Andy Read at Duke University: To deserve authorship the person must have contributed to at least three of these five areas: concept development, acquisition of funding, data collection, data analysis, manuscript writing. Of course, this rule is not hard and fast, and thoughtful judgement and discussions are needed. Often someone has contributed to only one or two of these areas, but in such a significant manner that authorship is warranted.

I have also seen situations where someone has contributed only a small, but important, piece of data. What happens then? My gut feeling is this should be an acknowledgment, especially if it’s been published previously, but sometimes the person is recognized as a co-author to ensure inclusion of the data. Is this right? That’s up to you and your supervisor(s), and is often case-specific. But I do think we need to limit authorship-inflation. Some scientists in this situation will gracefully turn down co-authorship and ask only for acknowledgement, while others will demand co-authorship when it’s not fully deserved. This is the authorship jungle we all must navigate, which does not get easier with time or experience. So, it’s best to just accept the complexity and make the best decisions we can based on the science, not necessarily the scientists.

Next, there is the decision of author order, which can be another challenging decision. A student with the largest role in data collection/analysis and writing, will often be the lead author, especially if the paper is also forming a chapter of his/her thesis. But, if lead authorship is not clear (maybe the student’s work focuses on a small part of a much larger project) then its best to discuss authorship order with co-authors sooner rather than later. The lead author should be the person with the largest role in making the study happen, but often a senior scientist, like an academic supervisor, will have established the project and gained the funding support independent of a student’s involvement. This ‘senior scientist’ role is frequently recognized by being listed last in the authorship list – a trend that has developed in the last ~15 years. Or the senior scientists will be the corresponding author. The order of authors in between the first and last author is often grey, muddled and confusing. To sort this order out, I often think about who else had a major role in the project, and list them near the front end, after the lead author. And then after that, it is usually just based on alphabetical order; you can often see this trend when you look at long author lists.

Responsibility as lead author:  The role of a lead author is to ‘herd the cats’. Unless otherwise specified by co-authors/supervisor, this process includes formatting the manuscript as per journal specifications, correspondence with journal editors (letters to editors and response to reviewer comments), correspondence with co-authors, consideration and integration of all co-author comments and edits into the manuscript, manuscript revisions, staying on time with re-submissions to the journal, finding funding for publication costs, and review of final proofs before publication. Phew! Lots to do. To help you through this process, here are some tips:

How to get edits back from co-authors: When you send out the manuscript for edits/comments, give your co-authors a deadline. This deadline should be at least 2 weeks out, but best to give more time if you can. Schedules are so packed these days. And, say in the email something like, ‘If I don’t hear back from you by such and such a date I’ll assume you are happy with the manuscript as is.” This statement often spurs authors to respond.

How to respond to reviewer comments: Always be polite and grateful, even when you completely disagree with the comment or feel the reviewer has not understood your work. Phrases like “we appreciate the feedback”, “we have considered the comment”, and “the reviewers provided thoughtful criticism” are good ways to show appreciation for reviewer comments, even when it’s followed by a ‘but’ statement. When revising a manuscript, you do not need to incorporate all reviewer comments, but you do need to go through each comment one-by-one and say “yes, thanks for this point. We have now done that,” or thoughtfully explain why you have not accepted the reviewer advice.

While receiving negative criticism about your work is hard, I have found that the advice is often right and helpful in the long run. When I first receive reviewer comments back on a manuscript, especially if it is a rejection – yes, this happens, and it sucks – I usually read through it all. Fume a bit. And then put it aside for a week or so. This gives me time to process and think about the feedback. By the time I come back to it, my emotional response has subsided and I can appreciate the critical comments with objectivity.

Journal formatting can be a nightmare: Some editor may read this post and hate me, but my advice is don’t worry too much about formatting a manuscript perfectly to journal specs. During the initial manuscript submission, reviewers will be assessing content, not how well you match the journal’s formatting. So don’t kill yourself at this stage to get everything perfect, although you should be close. Once your paper gets through the first round of reviews, then you should worry about formatting perfectly in the revision.

Who should I recommend as a reviewer? Editors like it when you make their lives easier by recommending appropriate reviewers for your manuscript. Obviously you should not recommend close friends or colleagues. Giving useful, appropriate reviewer suggestions can be challenging. My best advice for this step is to look at the authors you have referenced in the manuscript. Those authors referenced multiple times may have interest in your work, and be related to the subject matter.

Who pays or how to pay for publication? Discuss this issue with your co-authors/supervisor and plan ahead. Most journals have publication fees that often range between $1000 and $2000. Sometimes color figures cost more. And, if you want your paper to be open access, plan on paying > $3000. So, when deciding on a journal, keep these costs in mind if you are on a limited budget. These days I add at least $2000 to almost every project budget to pay for publication costs. Publication is expensive, which is ridiculous considering we as scientists provide the content, review the content for free, and then often have to pay for the papers once published. But that’s the frustrating, unbalanced racket of scientific publication today – a topic for another time, but this article is definitely worth a read, if interested.

So that’s it from me. Please add your advice, feedback, and thoughts below in the comments section.

There is no such thing as “throwing it away”: Why I try to reduce my plastic consumption

By Dawn Barlow, MSc student, Department of Fisheries and Wildlife

Several years ago, I had a profound experience on a remote little coral island in the Kingdom of Tonga, in the middle of the South Pacific. I was a crew member aboard a 46’ sailboat, traveling in Tonga and Fiji. This trip was a time when I became very aware of my consumption because when living on a boat, you carry your waste with you. The South Pacific is a region of little islands scattered across wide ocean spaces, and my eyes were opened to island culture. An island is analogous to a large boat—your waste cannot go far. The idea of “throwing it away” began to seem suspect. Does anything really “go away”?

A seemingly pristine beach on Tungua Island, Kingdom of Tonga. Upon closer inspection, we realized the volume of plastics that could be found even on an island this remote. Photo by D. Barlow.

After spending a night at anchor in the Kingdom of Tonga when I listened through the hull to signing humpback whales and felt their deep tones vibrate our mast, I thought I was in a place as pure and untouched as I would ever experience. The next morning, we ventured to shore on an island that we could circumnavigate in less than an hour on foot. But the soft sand was strewn with more than just conch and cowrie shells. It was also strewn with plastic. I began to pick up the trash items on the beach, and before long I had a large bag filled to the brim with plastic. The captain humored me when I wanted to bring it back to the boat. But what was I going to do with it then? These remote island places have very little infrastructure—they can’t recycle it there. So should I take it to another island where it would likely get barged out and dumped back in the ocean? Or a landfill? What struck me most was the realization that none of these products were manufactured on these islands. Some of this plastic may have been imported to the nearest island with a town or city, while some likely had drifted across the sea to this landing spot. All the plastics that I picked up on that one, small island were just a tiny portion of ocean plastic that wash ashore on the world’s beaches, a tiny glimpse of a much larger issue.

Eight million tons of plastics make their way into the oceans each year. Let that number sink in. There is no such thing as “throwing it away”, because “away” does not exist. “Away” is the ocean.

“What lies under”. Image credit: Ferdi Rizkiyanto.

Before sitting down to write this, I participated in a beach cleanup event here in my local community in Newport, Oregon. Today along the whole Oregon Coast, over 3,000 volunteers removed more than 15,000 pounds of litter and marine debris from the coastal places they love. A few weeks ago Surfrider Foundation screened the documentary Straw, directed by Linda Booker. Following the well-attended screening, a panel of community members from Surfrider, the Oregon Coast Aquarium, and Thomson Sanitary Services answered questions from the audience. In a lively discussion, we learned about why China is no longer accepting our recyclables and consequently we can only recycle plastics #1 and #2 here in Oregon, about how marine animals are rehabilitated after becoming entangled in plastic waste, about how Surfrider is encouraging local businesses to switch to paper straws and only offer them by request. As daunting as it is to think about the scale of our plastic consumption and the damage it causes, I am encouraged by the engagement and bottom-up movement in my community.

My life is shaped by the ocean—it is my inspiration, my work, my passion, my place of adventure and joy, the place that humbles me and heals me. Imagining the relationship between the products I use and the ocean is what makes me think twice before consuming. If I am driving in my car and want to stop for coffee but don’t have a reusable mug with me, I consider “if I were on a boat, would I drink coffee out of a single-use cup and then throw it away, toss it over the rail?” Of course not. So I invite you to think about the plastic in your life—it is everywhere. Think about how that plastic relates to what you love. Will it make its way into the stomach of a baby albatross, a sea turtle, the filter-feeding shellfish and large predatory fish that you love to eat?

Lifestyle changes can be simple and impactful. As a consumer, use your purchase power—when you have the option to buy a product wrapped in plastic or one that is not, opt for no plastic. Show manufacturers what you value. Bring reusable bags to the grocery store. Use waxed paper instead of plastic saran wrap. Talk to others, share your choices with them, encourage them to minimize their plastic use. And if you need context or motivation, imagine the relationship between the products you consume and the places that you love.