gray whale – Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Laboratory

Hearing Gray: Diving into the Sonic World of the Gray Whale

By Natalie Nickells, visiting PhD Student, British Antarctic Survey

For the last three months, I’ve been lucky enough to be welcomed into the GEMM lab as a visiting PhD student to work on the acoustic data from hydrophones in CATS tags deployed on gray whales. This work has been a huge change for me! I’ve gone from studying Antarctic baleen whale foraging, the topic of my PhD, from a distance at my desk in Cambridge England, to studying PCFG gray whales in Newport- and finally being in the same country, state, and even county to the whales I am studying! Unlike my Antarctic research, where whale blows in the distance become tiny points in a sea of data, listening to the CATS tag data has allowed me to really connect with these animals on an emotional level, as I’ve spent days, weeks and months listening to the world as they hear it.

Humans are fundamentally visual creatures- we take in information through sight first, with hearing probably our second, or for some even third, sense in line. However, for marine mammals, the same cannot be said: their world is auditory first. This fact is an important realisation to get our heads around, highlighted beautifully by the phrase “the ears are the window to the soul of the whale” (Sonic Sea (2017)) or Tim Donaghy’s emotive statement that “a deaf whale is a dead whale”. High levels of ocean noise therefore have a huge impact on baleen whales. Imagine trying to do your groceries or find a friend while blindfolded or in a thick fog– you might struggle to access food or communicate with others, and your stress would certainly be high. To succeed, you would likely need to change your behaviour.

Behavioural changes in response to ocean noise are observed in baleen whales: for example, humpback whales change their foraging behaviour when ship noise increases (Blair et al., 2016), and gray whales have been shown to call more frequently and possibly more loudly in conditions of high ocean noise (Dahlheim & Castellote, 2016). However, even in the absence of notable behaviour change due to ocean noise, North Atlantic right whales may still be experiencing a stress response. When shipping traffic in the Bay of Fundy significantly decreased in the aftermath of 9/11, North Atlantic right whales in the area had decreased chronic stress levels (Rolland et al., 2012).

Previous work by the GEMM lab observed this stress response to ocean noise in gray whales. They found a correlation between high levels of glucocorticoid (a stress indicator) in male gray whale faeces with high vessel noise and vessel counts in the area. Vessel noise was measured using two static hydrophones off the Oregon coast, and it was assumed all animals in the area experienced the same noise (Lemos et al., 2022; Pirotta et al., 2023). However, a static hydrophone is an imperfect measure of the sound levels a mobile animal experiences, particularly as we might expect animals to change behaviour when disturbed (Sullivan & Torres, 2018). This previous work became the starting point for the question I have addressed during my time in the GEMM Lab: can we measure and characterise the sound levels an individual whale was exposed to? Enter CATS tags. These are suction-cup tags fitted with a host of sensors, which have been used by the GEMM lab since 2021 (see Image 1). So far, they have mostly been used for their accelerometry data (Colson et al. (in press), see also Kate’s blog post). However, the GEMM lab had the foresight to put hydrophones on these tags, and as a result I was welcomed into the lab by a bumper-crop of hydrophone data just waiting to be analysed!

*Image 1: A gray whale (“Slush”) being tagged with a CATS tag and Natalie (right) with the same tag.*

This tag data is particularly valuable, not only for its ability to follow the acoustic world of an individual whale, but also due to the whole suite of data that comes with the acoustics: essentially, the acoustic data comes with behavioural data. Or at least, it comes with data from which we can infer behaviour (Colson et al, in press)! Incorporating behaviour into passive acoustics work hugely strengthens its ecological usefulness (Oestreich et al., 2024). We can hear what an individual whale is hearing, and we can also infer what they were doing before, during, and after they heard or made that sound. Having behavioural data also means that we can ground-truth the sounds we hear. When hearing an interesting sound, I can go back to the video data and accelerometer data to check what the whale sees, what its body-position is doing (e.g., is it headstand foraging?) and the speed and direction of its travel. Context is key!

The importance of context was highlighted in my very first week here in the GEMM lab. I became very interested in a sound I could hear frequently when the whale would surface- a distorted bark-like noise, but the whale was surely too far offshore for any barking dog to be heard? And almost every time the whale surfaced? After a few days pondering, I shared my mystery with Leigh, who laughingly revealed that one of the whale-watching boats in this area has a ‘whale-alerting’ dog on board! Sometimes if it sounds like a dog… it’s a dog! Besides my slightly anticlimactic discovery of dogs barking, committing time to listening to the tags and hearing what the whales hear, has been a magical experience. My favourite hydrophone sound, that still gets me excited when I hear it, is the gray whale ‘bongo call’- or as it’s more formally known in the literature, M1 vocalisation (Guazzo et al., 2019). I’ll let you decide which name is more appropriate! I first heard this call when investigating a time on “Scarlett’s” tag when we knew her 14 year-old daughter “Pacman” had been close: about 15 minutes before “Pacman” appears on the video, Scarlett makes this call (you can play the clip below to listen). In “Lunita’s” tag, we even hear this call three times in a row!

Image 2: A ‘bongo call’ made by “Scarlett” when her daughter “Pacman” was nearby.

Relatively little research has been done on gray whale calls compared to other more studied species like humpbacks. Most of this research has taken place on gray whale migratory routes (Guazzo et al., 2019, 2017; Burnham et al. 2018) or in captivity (Fish et. al, 1974 ) so these tag recordings could be a valuable addition to a small sample from the foraging grounds (Clayton et al., 2023; Haver et al., 2023)- as well as being very personally exciting to hear!

We’ve also been able to use the tag hydrophone data to look at close calls with ships. As I was going through the data on “Scarlett’s” tag, I noticed a spike in vessel noise. Looking at the video from the same timestamp, I could see a small vessel passing directly over her as she surfaced. At the time this vessel passed over her, the tag was only 0.8 m under the surface of the water!

Image 3: A close encounter between a small vessel and “Scarlett”, shown both on the video from the CATS tag (top) and the spectrogram (bottom). The close call is outlined in a yellow box, when a greater intensity of noise occurred as illustrated by the brighter colour intensity compared to the white box (quieter vessel noise). Brighter colours denote a louder volume. The red boxes show surfacing noise- this can essentially be ignored when interpreting the echogram for our purposes.

Sometimes vessels may be more distant, but possibly equally harmful: we have seen vessel noise from larger and presumably more distant vessels dominate the soundscape in some of the tag data. Remembering that to a whale, the sonic world is as important as the visual world is to us, this elevated background noise from ships could have major consequences. So, the first step is to try to quantify the gray whales’ exposure to this vessel noise. I’ve been running some systematic sampling on the tag data to try to quantify background noise levels, and how this changes depending on the time of day: do individual whales experience the same daily spikes in ocean noise that were detected on the static hydrophones, at around 6am and noon due to vessel traffic (Haver et al., 2023)? If not, are they taking evasive action to avoid these spikes? These are just some of the questions that these CATS tags can help us answer, although ideally we need longer acoustic data recordings to capture day and night data, as well as potentially improving the hydrophones on the CATS tags themselves to minimise the impacts of tag interference and random noise.

When explaining to the public what it is to be a PhD student, I often refer to myself as a ‘scientist in training’, or to young children, a ‘baby scientist’. As I look toward my departure from the GEMM lab, I hope to have developed into at least a scientific toddler, having gained the ability to walk through reams of acoustic data with (relative) independence. More than that, I’m excited to take home a refreshed sense of curiosity about what drives marine mammals to behave as they do, an openness to collaboration and new approaches, and a large dose of ‘American emotion’! Let’s hope my British colleagues can handle it!

My heartfelt thanks to all those who welcomed me so warmly at the GEMM lab and Oregon State University, particularly my mentors Leigh Torres and Samara Haver.

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Bibliography

Sonic Sea (2017) Directed by Michelle Dougherty [Film] Distributed by the Natural Resources Defense Council.

Blair, H.B., Merchant, N.D., Friedlaender, A.S., Wiley, D.N. & Parks, S.E. (2016) Evidence for ship noise impacts on humpback whale foraging behaviour. Biology Letters. 12 (8), 20160005. doi:10.1098/rsbl.2016.0005.

Burnham, R., Duffus, D. & Mouy, X. (2018) Gray Whale (Eschrictius robustus) Call Types Recorded During Migration off the West Coast of Vancouver Island. Frontiers in Marine Science. 5, 329. doi:10.3389/fmars.2018.00329.

Colson, K., E. Pirotta L. New, D Cade, J Calambokidis, K. Bierlich, C Bird, A Fernandez Ajó, L. Hildebrand, A. Trites, L. Torres. (in press). Using accelerometry tags to quantify gray whale foraging behavior. Marine Mammal Science.

Clayton, H., Cade, D.E., Burnham, R., Calambokidis, J. & Goldbogen, J. (2023) Acoustic behavior of gray whales tagged with biologging devices on foraging grounds. Frontiers in Marine Science. 10, 1111666. doi:10.3389/fmars.2023.1111666.

Dahlheim, M. & Castellote, M. (2016) Changes in the acoustic behavior of gray whales Eschrichtius robustus in response to noise. Endangered Species Research. 31, 227–242. doi:10.3354/esr00759.

Fish, J.F., Sumich, J.L. & Lingle, G.L. (n.d.) Sounds Produced by the Gray Whale, Eschrichtius robustus.

Guazzo, R., Schulman-Janiger, A., Smith, M., Barlow, J., D’Spain, G., Rimington, D. & Hildebrand, J. (2019) Gray whale migration patterns through the Southern California Bight from multi-year visual and acoustic monitoring. Marine Ecology Progress Series. 625, 181–203. doi:10.3354/meps12989.

Guazzo, R.A., Helble, T.A., D’Spain, G.L., Weller, D.W., Wiggins, S.M. & Hildebrand, J.A. (2017) Migratory behavior of eastern North Pacific gray whales tracked using a hydrophone array S. Li (ed.). PLOS ONE. 12 (10), e0185585. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0185585.

Haver, S.M., Haxel, J., Dziak, R.P., Roche, L., Matsumoto, H., Hvidsten, C. & Torres, L.G. (2023) The variable influence of anthropogenic noise on summer season coastal underwater soundscapes near a port and marine reserve. Marine Pollution Bulletin. 194, 115406. doi:10.1016/j.marpolbul.2023.115406.

Lemos, L.S., Haxel, J.H., Olsen, A., Burnett, J.D., Smith, A., Chandler, T.E., Nieukirk, S.L., Larson, S.E., Hunt, K.E. & Torres, L.G. (2022) Effects of vessel traffic and ocean noise on gray whale stress hormones. Scientific Reports. 12 (1), 18580. doi:10.1038/s41598-022-14510-5.

Oestreich, W.K., Oliver, R.Y., Chapman, M.S., Go, M.C. & McKenna, M.F. (2024) Listening to animal behavior to understand changing ecosystems. Trends in Ecology & Evolution. S0169534724001459. doi:10.1016/j.tree.2024.06.007.

Pirotta, E., Fernandez Ajó, A., Bierlich, K.C., Bird, C.N., Buck, C.L., Haver, S.M., Haxel, J.H., Hildebrand, L., Hunt, K.E., Lemos, L.S., New, L. & Torres, L.G. (2023) Assessing variation in faecal glucocorticoid concentrations in gray whales exposed to anthropogenic stressors S. Cooke (ed.). Conservation Physiology. 11 (1), coad082. doi:10.1093/conphys/coad082.

Rolland, R.M., Parks, S.E., Hunt, K.E., Castellote, M., Corkeron, P.J., Nowacek, D.P., Wasser, S.K. & Kraus, S.D. (2012) Evidence that ship noise increases stress in right whales. Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences. 279 (1737), 2363–2368. doi:10.1098/rspb.2011.2429.

Sullivan, F.A. & Torres, L.G. (2018) Assessment of vessel disturbance to gray whales to inform sustainable ecotourism. The Journal of Wildlife Management. 82 (5), 896–905. doi:10.1002/jwmg.21462.

Speeding Up, Slowing Down, and Choosing My Fig

Celest Sorrentino, incoming master’s student, OSU Dept of Fisheries, Wildlife, and Conservation Sciences, GEMM Lab

It’s late June, a week before I head back to the West Coast, and I’m working one of my last shifts as a server in New York. Summer had just turned on and the humidity was just getting started, but the sun brought about a liveliness in the air that was contagious. Our regulars traded the city heat for beaches in the Hamptons, so I stood by the door, watching the flow of hundreds upon hundreds of people fill the streets of Manhattan. My manager and I always chatted to pass the time between rushes, and he began to ask me how I felt to move across the country and start my master’s program so soon.

“I am so excited!” I beamed, “Also a bit nervous–”

“Nervous? Why?

“Are you nervous you’ll become the person you’re meant to be?”

As a first-generation Hispanic student, I found solace in working in hospitality. Working in a restaurant for four years was a means to support myself to attain an undergraduate degree–but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also love it. I found joy in orchestrating a unique experience for strangers, who themselves brought their own stories to share, each day bestowing opportunity for new friendships or new lessons. This industry requires you to be quick on your feet (never mess with a hungry person’s cacio e pepe), exuding a sense of finesse, continuously alert to your client’s needs and desires all the while always exhibiting a specific ambiance.

So why leave to start my master’s degree?

Fig 1: Me as a server with one of my regulars before his trip to Italy. You can never go wrong with Italian!

For anyone I have not had the pleasure yet to meet, my name is Celest Sorrentino, an incoming master’s student in the GEMM Lab this fall. I am currently writing to you from the Port Orford Field Station, located along the charming south coast of Oregon. Although I am new to the South Coast, my relationship with the GEMM Lab is not, but rather has been warmly cultivated ever since the day I first stepped onto the third floor of the Gladys Valley Building, as an NSF REU intern just two summers ago. Since that particular summer, I have gravitated back to the GEMM Lab every summer since: last summer as a research technician and this summer as a co-lead for the TOPAZ/JASPER Project, a program I will continue to spearhead the next two summers. (The GEMM Lab and me, we just have something– what can I say?)

In the risk of cementing “cornball” to my identity, pursuing a life in whale research had always been my dream ever since I was a little girl. As I grew older, I found an inclination toward education, in particular a specific joy that could only be found when teaching others, whether that meant teaching the difference between “bottom-up” and “top-bottom” trophic cascades to my peers in college, teaching my 11 year old sister how to do fun braids for middle school, or teaching a room full of researchers how I used SLEAP A.I. to track gray whale mother-calf pairs in drone footage.

Onboarding to the TOPAZ/JASPER project was a new world to me, which required me to quickly learn the ins and outs of a program, and eventually being handed the reins of responsibility of the team, all within 1 month and a half. While the TOPAZ/JASPER 2024 team (aka Team Protein!) and I approach our 5th week of field season, to say we have learned “so much” is an understatement.

Our morning data collection commences at 6:30 AM, with each of us alternating daily between the cliff team and kayak team.

For kayak team, its imperative to assemble all supplies swiftly given that we’re in a race against time, to outrun the inevitable windy/foggy weather conditions. However, diligence is required; if you forget your paddles back at lab or if you run out of charged batteries, that’s less time on the water to collect data and more time for the weather to gain in on you. We speed up against the weather, but also slow down for the details.

Fig 2: Throwback to our first kayak training day with Oceana (left), Sophia(middle), and Eden (right).

For cliff team, we have joined teams with time. At some point within the last few weeks, each of us on the cliff have had to uncover the dexterity within to become true marine mammal observers (for five or six hours straight). Here we survey for any slight shift in a sea of blue that could indicate the presence of a whale– and once we do… its go time. Once a whale blows, miles offshore, the individual manning the theodolite has just a few seconds to find and focus the reticle before the blow dissipates into the wind. If they miss it… its one less coordinate of that whale’s track. We speed up against the whale’s blow, but also slow down for the details.

Fig 3: Cliff team tracking a whale out by Mill Rocks!

I have found the pattern of speeding up and slowing down are parallels outside of field work as well. In Port Orford specifically, slowing down has felt just as invigorating as the first breath one takes out of the water. For instance, the daily choice we make to squeeze 5 scientists into the world’s slowest elevator down to the lab every morning may not be practical in everyday life, but the extra minute looking at each other’s sleepy faces sets the foundation for our “go” mode. We also sit down after a day of fieldwork, as a team, eating our 5th version of pasta and meatballs while we continue our Hunger Games movie marathon from the night prior. And we chose our “off-day” to stroll among nature’s gentle giants, experiencing together the awe of the Redwoods trees.

Fig 4A & 4B: (A) Team Protein (Sophia, Oceana, Allison, Eden and I) slow morning elevator ride down to the lab. (B) Sophia hugging a tree at the Redwoods!

When my manager asked the above question, I couldn’t help but think upon an excerpt, popularly known as “The Fig Tree” by Sylvia Plath.

Fig 5: The Fig Tree excerpt by Sylvia Plath. Picture credits to @samefacecollective on Instagram.

For my fig tree, I imagine it as grandiose as those Redwood trees. What makes each of us choose one fig over the other is highly variable, just as our figs of possibilities, some of which we can’t make out quite yet. At some point along my life, the fig of owning a restaurant in the Big Apple propped up. But in that moment with my manager, I imagined my oldest fig, with little Celest sitting on the living room floor watching ocean documentaries and wanting nothing more than to conduct whale research, now winking at me as I start my master’s within the GEMM Lab. Your figs might be different from mine but what I believe we share in common is the alternating pace toward our fig. At times we need speeding up while other times we just need slowing down.

Then there’s that sweet spot in between where we can experience both, just as I have being a part of the 2024 TOPAZ/JASPER team.

Fig 6A and 6B: (A) My sister and I excited to go see some dolphins for the first time! (~2008). (B) Taking undergraduate graduation pics with my favorite whale plushy! (2023)

Fig 7: Team Protein takes on Port Orford Minimal Carnival, lots of needed booging after finishing field work!

A Gut Feeling: DNA Metabarcoding Gray Whale Diets

By Charles Nye, graduate student, OSU Department of Fisheries, Wildlife, & Conservation Sciences, Cetacean Conservation and Genomics Laboratory

***Figure 1:*** *An illustration (by me) of a feeding gray whale whose caudal end transitions into a DNA double helix.*

Let’s consider how much stuff organisms shed daily. If you walk down a hallway, you’ll leave a microscopic trail of skin cells, evaporated sweat, and even more material if you so happen to sneeze or cough (as we’ve all learned). The residency of these bits and pieces in a given environment is on the order of days, give or take (Collins et al. 2018). These days, we can extract, amplify, and sequence DNA from leftover organismal material in environments (environmental DNA; eDNA), stomach contents (dietary DNA, dDNA), and other sources (Sousa et al. 2019; Chavez et al. 2021).

You might be familiar with genetic barcoding, where scientists are able to use documented and annotated pieces of a genome to identify a piece of DNA down to a species. Think of these as genetic fingerprints from a crime scene where all (described) species on Earth are prime suspects. With advancements in computing technology, we can barcode many species at the same time—a process known as metabarcoding. In short, you can now do an ecosystem-wide biodiversity survey without even needing to see your species of interest (Ficetola et al. 2008; Chavez et al. 2021).

(Before you ask: yes, people have tried sampling Loch Ness and came up with not a single strand of plesiosaur DNA (University of Otago, 2019).)

I received my crash course on metabarcoding when I was employed at the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI), right before grad school. There, I was employed to help refine eDNA survey field and laboratory methods (in addition to some cool robot stuff). Here at OSU, I use metabarcoding to research whale ecology, detection, and even a little bit of forensics work. Cetacean species (or evidence thereof) I’ve worked on include North Atlantic right whales (Eubalaena glacialis), killer whales (Orcinus spp.), and gray whales (Eschrichtius robustus).

Long-time readers of the GEMM Lab Blog are probably quite knowledgeable about the summertime grays—the Pacific Coast Feeding Group (PCFG). All of us here at OSU’s Marine Mammal Institute (MMI) are keenly interested in understanding why these whales hang out in the Pacific Northwest during the summer months and what sets them apart from the rest of the Eastern North Pacific gray whale population. What interests me? Well, I want to double-check what they’re eating—genetically.

“What does my study species eat?” is a straightforward but underappreciated question. It’s also deceptively difficult to address. What if your species live somewhere remote or relatively inaccessible? You can imagine this is a common logistical issue for most research in marine sciences. How many observations do you need to make to account for seasonal or annual changes in prey availability? Do all individuals in your study population eat the same thing? I certainly like to mix and match my diet.

Gray whale foraging ecology has been studied comprehensively over the last several decades, including an in-depth stomach content evaluation by Mary Nerini in 1984 and GEMMer Lisa Hildebrand’s MSc research. PCFG whales seem to prefer shrimpy little creatures called mysids, along with Dungeness crab (Cancer magister) larvae, during their stay in the Pacific Northwest (PNW), most notably the mysid Neomysis rayii (Guerrero 1989; Hildebrand et al. 2021). Indeed, the average energetic values of common suspected prey species in PNW waters rival the caloric richness of Arctic amphipods (Hildebrand et al. 2021). However, despite our wealth of visual foraging observations, metabarcoding may add an additional layer of resolution. For example, the ocean sunfish (Mola mola) was believed to exclusively forage on gelatinous zooplankton, but a metabarcoding approach revealed a much higher diversity of prey items, including other bony fishes and arthropods (Sousa et al. 2016).

Given all this exposition, you may be wondering: “Charles—how do you intend on getting dDNA from gray whales? Are you going to cut them open?”

***Figure 2:*** The battle station, a vacuum pump that I use to filter out all of the particulate matter from a gray whale dDNA sample. The filter is made of polycarbonate track etch material, which melts away in the DNA extraction process—quite handy, indeed!

No. I’m going to extract DNA from their poop.

Well, actually, I’ve been doing that for the last two years. My lab (Cetacean Conservation and Genomics Laboratory, CCGL) and GEMM Lab have been collaborating to make lemonade out of, er…whale poop. An archive of gray whale fecal samples (with ongoing collections every field season) originally collected for hormone analyses presented itself with new life—the genomics kind. In addition to community-level data, we are also able to recover informative DNA from the gray whales, including sex ID from “depositing” individuals, though the recovery rate isn’t perfect.

Because the GEMM Lab/MMI can non-invasively collect multiple samples from the same individuals over time, dDNA metabarcoding is a great way to repeatedly evaluate the diets of the PCFG, just shy of being at the right place at the right time with a GoPro or drone to witness a feeding event. While we can get stomach contents and even usable dDNA from a naturally deceased whale, those data may not be ideal. How representative a stranded whale is of the population is dependent on the cause of death; an emaciated or critically injured individual, for example, is a strong outlier.

***Figure 3:*** Presence/absence of the top 10 most-common taxonomic Families observed in the PCFG gray whale dDNA dataset (n = 20, randomly selected). Filled-in dots indicate at least one genetic read associated with that Family, and empty dots indicate none. Note the prey taxa: mysids (Mysidae), krill (Euphausiidae), and olive snails (Olividae).

Here’s a snapshot of progress to date for this dDNA metabarcoding project. I pulled out twenty random samples from my much larger working dataset (n = 82) for illustrative purposes (and legibility). After some bioinformatic wizardry, we can use a presence/absence approach to get an empirical glimpse at what passes through a PCFG gray whale. While I am able to recover species-level information, using higher-level taxonomic rankings summarizes the dataset in a cleaner fashion (and also, not every identifiable sequence resolves to species).

The title of most commonly observed prey taxa belongs to our friends, the mysids (Mysidae). Surprisingly, crabs and amphipods are not as common in this dataset, instead losing to krill (Euphausiidae) and olive snails (Olividae). The latter has been found in association with gray whale foraging grounds but not documented in a prey study (Jenkinson 2001). We also get an appreciable amount of interference from non-prey taxa, most notably barnacles (Balanidae), with an honorable mention to hydrozoans (Clytiidae, Corynidae). While easy to dismiss as background environmental DNA, as gray whales do forage at the benthos, these taxa were physically present and identifiable in Nerini’s (1984) gray whale stomach content evaluation.

So—can we conclude that barnacles and hydrozoans are an important part of a gray whale’s diet, as much as mysids? From decades of previous observations, we might say…probably not. Gray whales are actively targeting patches of crabby, shrimpy zooplankton things, and even employ novel foraging strategies to do so (Newell & Cowles 2006; Torres et al. 2018). However, the sheer diversity of consumed species does present additional dimensionality to our understanding of gray whale ecology.

The whales are eating these ancillary organisms, whether they intend to or not, and this probably does influence population dynamics, recruitment, and succession in these nearshore benthic habitats. After all, the shallow pits that gray whales leave behind post-feeding provide a commensal trophic link with other predatory taxa, including seabirds and groundfish (Oliver & Slattery 1985). Perhaps the consumption of these collateral species affects gray whale energetics and reflects on their “performance”?

I hope to address all of this and more in some capacity with my published work and graduate chapters. I’m confident to declare that we can document diet composition of PCFG whales using dDNA metabarcoding, but what comes next is where one can get lost in the sea(weeds). How does the diet of individuals compare to one another? What about at differing time points? Age groups? How many calories are in a barnacle? No need to fret—this is where the fun begins!

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https://www.otago.ac.nz/news/news/otago717609.html. [accessed 2023 Apr 25]

The costs and benefits of automated behavior classification

Clara Bird, PhD Student, OSU Department of Fisheries, Wildlife, and Conservation Sciences, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab

“Why don’t you just automate it?” This is a question I am frequently asked when I tell someone about my work. My thesis involves watching many hours of drone footage of gray whales and meticulously coding behaviors, and there are plenty of days when I have asked myself that very same question. Streamlining my process is certainly appealing and given how wide-spread and effective machine learning methods have become, it is a tempting option to pursue. That said, machine learning is only appropriate for certain research questions and scales, and it’s important to consider these before investing in using a new tool.

The application of machine learning methods to behavioral ecology is called computational ethology (Anderson & Perona, 2014). To identify behaviors from videos, the model tracks individuals across video frames and identifies patterns of movement that form a behavior. This concept is similar to the way we identify a whale as traveling if it’s moving in a straight line and as foraging if it’s swimming in circles within a small area (Mayo & Marx, 1990, check out this blog to learn more). The level of behavioral detail that the model is able to track depends on the chosen method (Figure 1, Pereira et al., 2020). These methods range from tracking each animal as a simple single point (called a centroid) to tracking the animal’s body positioning in 3D (this method is called pose estimation), which range from providing less detailed to more detailed behavior definitions. For example, tracking an individual as a centroid could be used to classify traveling and foraging behaviors, while pose estimation could identify specific foraging tactics.

*Figure 1. Figure from Pereira et al. (2020) illustrating the different methods of animal behavior tracking that are possible using machine learning.*

Pose estimation involves training the machine learning algorithm to track individual anatomical features of an individual (e.g., the head, legs, and tail of a rat), meaning that it can define behaviors in great detail. A behavior state could be defined as a combination of the angle between the tail and the head, and the stride length.

For example, Mearns et al. (2020) used pose estimation to study how zebrafish larvae in a lab captured their prey. They tracked the tail movements of individual larvae when presented with prey and classified these movements into separate behaviors that allowed them to associate specific behaviors with prey capture (Figure 2). The authors found that these behaviors occurred in a specific sequence, that the behaviors kept the prey within the larvae’s line of sight, and that the sequence was triggered by visual cues. In fact, when they removed the visual cue of the prey, the larvae terminated the behavior sequence, meaning that the larvae are continually choosing to do each behavior in the sequence, rather than the sequence being one long behavior event that is triggered only by the initial visual cue. This study is a good example of the applicability of machine learning models for questions aimed at kinematics and fine-scale movements. Pose estimation has also been used to study the role of facial expression and body language in rat social communication (Ebbesen & Froemke, 2021).

Figure 2. Excerpt from figure 1 of Mearns et al. (2020) illustrating (A) the camera set up for their experiment, (B) how the model tracked the eye angles and tail of the larvae fish, (C) the kinematics extracted from the footage. In panel (C) the top plot shows how the eyes converged on the same object (the prey) during prey capture event, the middle plot shows when the tail was curved to the left or the right, and the bottom plot shows the angle of the tail tip relative to the body.

While previous machine learning methods to track animal movements required individuals to be physically marked, the current methods can perform markerless tracking (Pereira et al., 2020). This improvement has broadened the kinds of studies that are possible. For example, Bozek et al., (2021) developed a model that tracked individuals throughout an entire honeybee colony and showed that certain individual behaviors were spatially distributed within the colony (Figure 3). Machine learning enabled the researchers to track over 1000 individual bees over several months, a task that would be infeasible for someone to do by hand.

*Figure 3. Excerpt from figure 1 of Bozek et al., (2021) showing how individual bees and their trajectories were tracked.*

These studies highlight that the potential benefits of using machine learning when studying fine scale behaviors (like kinematics) or when tracking large groups of individuals. Furthermore, once it’s trained, the model can process large quantities of data in a standardized way to free up time for the scientists to focus on other tasks.

While machine learning is an exciting and enticing tool, automating behavior detection via machine learning could be its own PhD dissertation. Like most things in life, there are costs and benefits to using this technique. It is a technically difficult tool, and while applications exist to make it more accessible, knowledge of the computer science behind it is necessary to apply it effectively and correctly. Secondly, it can be tedious and time consuming to create a training dataset for the model to “learn” what each behavior looks like, as this step involves manually labeling examples for the model to use.

As I’ve mentioned in a previous blog, I came quite close to trying to study the kinematics of gray whale foraging behaviors but ultimately decided that counting fluke beats wasn’t necessary to answer my behavioral research questions. It was important to consider the scale of my questions (as described in Allison’s blog) and I think that diving into more fine-scale kinematics questions could be a fascinating follow-up to the questions I’m asking in my PhD.

For instance, it would be interesting to quantify how gray whales use their flukes for different behavior tactics. Do gray whales in better body condition beat their flukes more frequently while headstanding? Does the size of the fluke affect how efficiently they can perform certain tactics? While these analyses would help quantify the energetic costs of different behaviors in better detail, they aren’t necessary for my broad scale questions. Consequently, taking the time to develop and train a pose estimation machine learning model is not the best use of my time.

That being said, I am interested in applying machine learning methods to a specific subset of my dataset. In social behavior, it is not only useful to quantify the behaviors exhibited by each individual but also the distance between them. For example, the distance between a mom and her calf can be indicative of the calves’ dependence on its mom (Nielsen et al., 2019). However, continuously measuring the distance between two individuals throughout a video is tedious and time intensive, so training a machine learning model could be an effective use of time. I plan to work with an intern this summer to develop a machine learning model to track the distance between pairs of gray whales in our drone footage and then relate this distance data with the manually coded behaviors to examine patterns in social behavior (Figure 4). Stay tuned to learn more about our progress!

*Figure 4. A mom and calf pair surfacing together. Image collected under NOAA/NMFS permit #21678*

References

Anderson, D. J., & Perona, P. (2014). Toward a Science of Computational Ethology. Neuron, 84(1), 18–31. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.neuron.2014.09.005

Bozek, K., Hebert, L., Portugal, Y., Mikheyev, A. S., & Stephens, G. J. (2021). Markerless tracking of an entire honey bee colony. Nature Communications, 12(1), 1733. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41467-021-21769-1

Ebbesen, C. L., & Froemke, R. C. (2021). Body language signals for rodent social communication. Current Opinion in Neurobiology, 68, 91–106. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.conb.2021.01.008

Mayo, C. A., & Marx, M. K. (1990). Surface foraging behaviour of the North Atlantic right whale, Eubalaena glacialis , and associated zooplankton characteristics. Canadian Journal of Zoology, 68(10), 2214–2220. https://doi.org/10.1139/z90-308

Mearns, D. S., Donovan, J. C., Fernandes, A. M., Semmelhack, J. L., & Baier, H. (2020). Deconstructing Hunting Behavior Reveals a Tightly Coupled Stimulus-Response Loop. Current Biology, 30(1), 54-69.e9. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cub.2019.11.022

Nielsen, M., Sprogis, K., Bejder, L., Madsen, P., & Christiansen, F. (2019). Behavioural development in southern right whale calves. Marine Ecology Progress Series, 629, 219–234. https://doi.org/10.3354/meps13125

Pereira, T. D., Shaevitz, J. W., & Murthy, M. (2020). Quantifying behavior to understand the brain. Nature Neuroscience, 23(12), 1537–1549. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41593-020-00734-z

Learning the right stuff – examining social transmission in humans, monkeys, and cetaceans

Clara Bird, PhD Student, OSU Department of Fisheries, Wildlife, and Conservation Sciences, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab

The start of a new school year is always an exciting time. Like high school, it means seeing friends again and the anticipation of preparing to learn something new. Even now, as a grad student less focused on coursework, the start of the academic year involves setting project timelines and goals, most of which include learning. As I’ve been reflecting on these goals, one of my dad’s favorite sayings has been at the forefront of my mind. As an overachieving and perfectionist kid, I often got caught up in the pursuit of perfect grades, so the phrase “just learn the stuff” was my dad’s reminder to focus on what matters. Getting good grades didn’t matter if I wasn’t learning. While my younger self found the phrase rather frustrating, I have come to appreciate and find comfort in it.

Given that my research is focused on behavioral ecology, I’ve also spent a lot of time thinking about how gray whales learn. Learning is important, but also costly. It involves an investment of energy (a physiological cost, Christie & Schrater, 2015; Jaumann et al., 2013), and an investment of time (an opportunity cost). Understanding the costs and benefits of learning can help inform conservation efforts because how an individual learns today affects the knowledge and tactics that the individual will use in the future.

Like humans, individual animals can learn a variety of tactics in a variety of ways. In behavioral ecology we classify the different types of learning based on the teacher’s role (even though they may not be consciously teaching). For example, vertical transmission is a calf learning from its mom, and horizontal transmission is an individual learning from other conspecifics (individuals of the same species) (Sargeant & Mann, 2009). An individual must be careful when choosing who to learn from because not all strategies will be equally efficient. So, it stands to reason than an individual should choose to learn from a successful individual. Signals of success can include factors such as size and age. An individual’s parent is an example of success because they were able to reproduce (Barrett et al., 2017). Learning in a population can be studied by assessing which individuals are learning, who they are learning from, and which learned behaviors become the most common.

An example of such a study is Barrett et al. (2017) where researchers conducted an experiment on capuchin monkeys in Costa Rica. This study centered around the Panama ́fruit, which is extremely difficult to open and there are several documented capuchin foraging tactics for processing and consuming the fruit (Figure 1). For this study, the researchers worked with a group of monkeys who lived in a habitat where the fruit was not found, but the group included several older members who had learned Panamá fruit foraging tactics prior to joining this group. During a 75-day experiment, the researchers placed fruits near the group (while they weren’t looking) and then recorded the tactics used to process the fruit and who used each tactic. Their results showed that the most efficient tactic became the most common tactic over time, and that age-bias was a contributing factor, meaning that individuals were more like to copy older members of the group.

*Figure 1. Figure from Barrett et al. (2017) showing a capuchin monkey eating a Panamá fruit using the canine seam technique.*

Social learning has also been documented in dolphin societies. A long-term study on wild bottlenose dolphins in Shark Bay, Australia assessed how habitat characteristics and the foraging behaviors used by moms and other conspecifics affected the foraging tactics used by calves (Sargeant & Mann, 2009). Interestingly, although various factors predicted what foraging tactic was used, the dominant factor was vertical transmission where the calf used the tactic learned from its mom (Figure 2). Overall, this study highlights the importance of considering a variety of factors because behavioral diversity and learning are context dependent.

*Figure 2. Figure from Sargeant & Mann (2009) showing that the probability of a calf using a tactic was higher if the mother used that tactic.*

Social learning is something that I am extremely interested in studying in our study population of gray whales in Oregon. While studies on social learning for such long-lived animals require a longer study period than of the span of our current dataset, I still find it important to consider the role learning may play. One day I would love to delve into the different factors of learning by these gray whales and answer questions such as those addressed in the studies I described above. Which foraging tactics are learned? How much of a factor is vertical transmission? Considering that gray whale calves spend the first few months of the foraging season with their mothers I would expect that there is at least some degree of vertical transmission present. Furthermore, how do environmental conditions affect learning? What tactics are learned in good vs. poor years of prey availability? Does it matter which tactic is learned first? While the chances that I’ll get to address these questions in the next few years are low, I do think that investigating how tactic diversity changes across age groups could be a good place to start. As I’ve discussed in a previous blog, my first dissertation chapter will focus on quantifying the degree of individual specialization present in my study group. After reading about age-biased learning, I am curious to see if older whales, as a group, use fewer tactics and if those tactics are the most energetically efficient.

The importance of understanding learning is related to that of studying individual specialization, which can allows us to estimate how behavioral tactics might change in popularity over time and space. We could then combine this with knowledge of how tactics are related to morphology and habitat and the associated energetic costs of each tactic. This knowledge would allow us to estimate the impacts of environmental change on individuals and the population. While my dissertation research only aims to provide a few puzzle pieces in this very large and complicated gray whale ecology puzzle, I am excited to see what I find. Writing this blog has both inspired new questions and served as a good reminder to be more patient with myself because I am still, “just learning the stuff”.

Little whale, big whale, swimming in the water: A quick history on how aerial photogrammetry has revolutionized the ability to obtain non-invasive measurements of whales

Dr. KC Bierlich, Postdoctoral Scholar, OSU Department of Fisheries, Wildlife, & Conservation Sciences, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab

The morphology and body size of an animal is one of the most fundamental factors for understanding a species ecology. For instance, fish body size and fin shape can influence its habitat use, foraging behavior, prey type, physiological performance, and predator avoidance strategies (Fig 1). Morphology and body size can thus reflect details of an individual’s current health, likelihood of survival, and potential reproductive success, which directly influences a species life history patterns, such as reproductive status, growth rate, and energetic requirements. Collecting accurate morphological measurements of individuals is often essential for monitoring populations, and recent studies have demonstrated how animal morphology has profound implications for conservation and management decisions, especially for populations inhabiting anthropogenically-altered environments (Miles 2020) (Fig. 1). For example, in a study on the critically endangered European eel, De Meyer et al. (2020) found that different skulls sizes were associated with different ecomorphs (a local variety of a species whose appearance is determined by its ecological environment), which predicted different diet types and resulted with some ecomorphs having a greater exposure to pollutants and toxins than others. However, obtaining manual measurements of wild animal populations can be logistically challenging, limited by accessibility, cost, danger, and animal disturbance. These challenges are especially true for large elusive animals, such as whales that are often in remote locations, spend little time at the surface of the water, and their large size can preclude safe capture and live handling.

**Figure 1**. Top) A pathway framework depicting how the morphology of an animal influences its habitat use, behavior, foraging, physiology, and performance. These traits all affect how successful an animal is in its environment and can reflect an individual’s current health, likelihood of survival, and potential reproductive success. This individual success can then be scaled up to assess overall population health, which in turn can have direct implications for conservation. Bottom) an example of morphological differences in fish body size and fin shape from Walker et al. (2013). Fineness ratio (f) = length of body ÷ max body width.

Photogrammetry is a non-invasive method for obtaining accurate morphological measurements of animals from photographs. The two main types of photogrammetry methods used in wildlife biology are 1) single camera photogrammetry, where a known scale factor is applied to a single image to measure 2D distances and angles and 2) stereo-photogrammetry, where two or more images (from a single or multiple cameras) are used to recreate 3D models. These techniques have been used on domestic animals to measure body condition and estimate weight of dairy cows and lactating Mediterranean buffaloes (Negretti et al., 2008; Gaudioso et al., 2014) and on wild animals to measure sexual dimorphism in Western gorillas (Breuer et al., 2007), shoulder heights of elephants (Schrader et al., 2006), nutritional status of Japanese macaques (Kurita et al., 2012), and the body condition of brown bears (Shirane et al., 2020). Over 70 years ago, Leedy (1948) encouraged wildlife biologists to use aerial photogrammetry from aircraft for censusing wild animal populations and their habitats, where photographs can be collected at nadir (straight down) or an oblique angle, and the scale can be calculated by dividing the focal length of the camera by the altitude or by using a ratio of selected points in an image of a known size. Indeed, aerial photogrammetry has been wildly adopted by wildlife biologists and has proven useful in obtaining measurements in large vertebrates, such as elephants and whales.

Whitehead & Payne (1978) first demonstrated the utility of using aerial photogrammetry from airplanes and helicopters as a non-invasive technique for estimating the body length of southern right whales. Prior to this technique, measurements of whales were traditionally limited to assessing carcasses collected from scientific whaling operations, or opportunistically from commercial whaling, subsistence hunting, stranding events, and bycatch. Importantly, aerial photogrammetry provides a method to collect measurements of whales without killing them. This approach has been widely adopted to obtain body length measurements on a variety of whale and dolphin species, including bowhead whales (Cubbage & Calambokidis, 1987), southern right whales (Best & Rüther, 1992), fin whales (Ratnaswamy and Wynn, 1993), common dolphins (Perryman and Lynn, 1993), spinner dolphins (Perryman & Westlake 1998), and killer whales (Fearnbach et al. 2012). Aerial photogrammetry has also been used to measure body widths to estimate nutritive condition related to reproduction in gray whales (Perryman and Lynn, 2002) and northern and southern right whales (Miller et al., 2012). However, these studies collected photographs from airplanes and helicopters, which can be costly, limited by weather and infrastructure to support aircraft research efforts and, importantly, presents a potential risk to wildlife biologists (Sasse 2003).

The recent advancement and commercialization of unoccupied aircraft systems (UAS, or drones) has revolutionized the ability to obtain morphological measurements from high resolution aerial photogrammetry across a variety of ecosystems (Fig. 2). Drones ultimately bring five transformative qualities to conservation science compared to airplanes and helicopters: affordability, immediacy, quality, efficiency, and safety of data collection. Durban et al. (2015) first demonstrated the utility of using drones for non-invasively obtaining morphological measurements of killer whales in remote environments. Since then, drone-based morphological measurements have been applied to a wide range of studies that have increased our understanding on different whale populations. For example, Leslie et al. (2020) used drone-based measurements of the skull to distinguish a unique sub-species of blue whales off the coast of Chile. Groskreutz et al. (2019) demonstrated how long-term nutritional stress has limited body growth in northern resident killer whales, while Stewart et al. (2021) found a decrease in body length of North Atlantic Right whales since 1981 that was associated with entanglements from fishing gear and may be a contributing factor to the decrease in reproductive success for this endangered population.

Drone imagery is commonly used to estimate the body condition of baleen whales by measuring the body length and width of individuals. Recently, the GEMM Lab used body length and width measurements to quantify intra- and inter-seasonal changes in body condition across individual gray whales (Lemos et al., 2020). Drones have also been used to measure body condition loss in humpback whales during the breeding season (Christiansen et al., 2016) and to compare the healthy southern right whales to the skinnier, endangered North Atlantic right whales (Christiansen et al., 2020). Drone-based assessments of body condition have even been used to measure how calf growth rate is directly related to maternal loss during suckling (Christiansen et al., 2018), and even estimate body mass (Christiansen et al., 2019).

Drone-based morphological measurements can also be combined with whale-borne inertial sensing tag data to study the functional morphology across several different baleen whale species. Kahane-Rapport et al. (2020) used drone measurements of tagged whales to analyze the biomechanics of how larger whales require longer times for filtering the water through their baleen when feeding. Gough et al. (2019) used size measurements from drones and swimming speeds from tags to determine that a whale’s “walking speed” is 2 meters per second – whether the largest of the whales, a blue whale, or the smallest of the baleen whales, an Antarctic minke whale. Size measurements and tag data were combined by Segre et al. (2019) to quantify the energetic costs of different sized whales when breaching.

Taken together, drones have revolutionized our ability to obtain morphological measurements of whales, greatly increasing our capacity to better understand how these animals function and perform in their environments. These advancements in marine science are particularly important as these methods provide greater opportunity to monitor the health of populations, especially as they face increased threats from anthropogenic stressors (such as vessel traffic, ocean noise, pollution, fishing entanglement, etc.) and climate change.

Drone-based photogrammetry is one of the main focuses of the GEMM Lab’s project on Gray whale Response to Ambient Noise Informed by Technology and Ecology (GRANITE). This summer we have been collecting drone videos to measure the body condition of gray whales feeding off the coast of Newport, Oregon (Fig. 2). As we try to understand the physiological stress response of gray whales to noise and other potential stressors, we have to account for the impacts of overall nutritional state of each individual whale’s physiology, which we infer from these body condition estimates.

**Figure 2**. Drones can help collect images of whales to obtain morphological measurements using photogrammetry and help us fill knowledge gaps for how these animals interact in their environment and to assess their current health. Bottom photo is an image collected by the GEMM Lab of a gray whale being measured in MorphoMetriX software to estimate its body condition.

References

Best, P. B., & Rüther, H. (1992). Aerial photogrammetry of southern right whales, Eubalaena australis. Journal of Zoology, 228(4), 595-614.

Breuer, T., Robbins, M. M., & Boesch, C. (2007). Using photogrammetry and color scoring to assess sexual dimorphism in wild western gorillas (Gorilla gorilla). American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 134(3), 369–382. https://doi.org/10.1002/ajpa.20678

Christiansen, F., Vivier, F., Charlton, C., Ward, R., Amerson, A., Burnell, S., & Bejder, L. (2018). Maternal body size and condition determine calf growth rates in southern right whales. Marine Ecology Progress Series, 592, 267–281.

Christiansen, F. (2020). A population comparison of right whale body condition reveals poor state of North Atlantic right whale, 1–43.

Christiansen, F., Dujon, A. M., Sprogis, K. R., Arnould, J. P. Y., & Bejder, L. (2016). Noninvasive unmanned aerial vehicle provides estimates of the energetic cost of reproduction in humpback whales. Ecosphere, 7(10), e01468–18.

Christiansen, F., Sironi, M., Moore, M. J., Di Martino, M., Ricciardi, M., Warick, H. A., … Uhart, M. M. (2019). Estimating body mass of free-living whales using aerial photogrammetry and 3D volumetrics. Methods in Ecology and Evolution, 10(12), 2034–2044.

Cubbage, J. C., & Calambokidis, J. (1987). Size-class segregation of bowhead whales discerned through aerial stereo-photogrammetry. Marine Mammal Science, 3(2), 179–185.

De Meyer, J., Verhelst, P., & Adriaens, D. (2020). Saving the European Eel: How Morphological Research Can Help in Effective Conservation Management. Integrative and Comparative Biology, 23, 347–349.

Gaudioso, V., Sanz-Ablanedo, E., Lomillos, J. M., Alonso, M. E., Javares-Morillo, L., & Rodr\’\iguez, P. (2014). “Photozoometer”: A new photogrammetric system for obtaining morphometric measurements of elusive animals, 1–10.

Gough, W. T., Segre, P. S., Bierlich, K. C., Cade, D. E., Potvin, J., Fish, F. E., … Goldbogen, J. A. (2019). Scaling of swimming performance in baleen whales. Journal of Experimental Biology, 222(20), jeb204172–11.

Groskreutz, M. J., Durban, J. W., Fearnbach, H., Barrett-Lennard, L. G., Towers, J. R., & Ford, J. K. B. (2019). Decadal changes in adult size of salmon-eating killer whales in the eastern North Pacific. Endangered Species Research, 40, 1

Kahane-Rapport, S. R., Savoca, M. S., Cade, D. E., Segre, P. S., Bierlich, K. C., Calambokidis, J., … Goldbogen, J. A. (2020). Lunge filter feeding biomechanics constrain rorqual foraging ecology across scale. Journal of Experimental Biology, 223(20), jeb224196–8.

Leedy, D. L. (1948). Aerial Photographs, Their Interpretation and Suggested Uses in Wildlife Management. The Journal of Wildlife Management, 12(2), 191.

Lemos, L. S., Burnett, J. D., Chandler, T. E., Sumich, J. L., and Torres, L. G. (2020). Intra- and inter-annual variation in gray whale body condition on a foraging ground. Ecosphere 11.

Leslie, M. S., Perkins-Taylor, C. M., Durban, J. W., Moore, M. J., Miller, C. A., Chanarat, P., … Apprill, A. (2020). Body size data collected non-invasively from drone images indicate a morphologically distinct Chilean blue whale (Balaenoptera musculus) taxon. Endangered Species Research, 43, 291–304.

Miles, D. B. (2020). Can Morphology Predict the Conservation Status of Iguanian Lizards? Integrative and Comparative Biology.

Miller, C. A., Best, P. B., Perryman, W. L., Baumgartner, M. F., & Moore, M. J. (2012). Body shape changes associated with reproductive status, nutritive condition and growth in right whales Eubalaena glacialis and E. australis. Marine Ecology Progress Series, 459, 135–156.

Negretti, P., Bianconi, G., Bartocci, S., Terramoccia, S., & Verna, M. (2008). Determination of live weight and body condition score in lactating Mediterranean buffalo by Visual Image Analysis. Livestock Science, 113(1), 1–7. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.livsci.2007.05.018

Ratnaswamy, M. J., & Winn, H. E. (1993). Photogrammetric Estimates of Allometry and Calf Production in Fin Whales, \emph{Balaenoptera physalus}. American Society of Mammalogists, 74, 323–330.

Perryman, W. L., & Lynn, M. S. (1993). Idendification of geographic forms of common dolphin(\emph{Delphinus Delphis}) from aerial photogrammetry. Marine Mammal Science, 9(2), 119–137.

Perryman, W. L., & Lynn, M. S. (2002). Evaluation of nutritive condition and reproductive status of migrating gray whales (\emph{Eschrichtius robustus}) based on analysisof photogrammetric data. Journal Cetacean Research and Management, 4(2), 155–164.

Perryman, W. L., & Westlake, R. L. (1998). A new geographic form of the spinner dolphin, stenella longirostris, detected with aerial photogrammetry. Marine Mammal Science, 14(1), 38–50.

Sasse, B. (2003). Job-Related Mortality of Wildlife Workers in the United States, 1937- 2000, 1015–1020.

Segre, P. S., Potvin, J., Cade, D. E., Calambokidis, J., Di Clemente, J., Fish, F. E., … & Goldbogen, J. A. (2020). Energetic and physical limitations on the breaching performance of large whales. Elife, 9, e51760.

Shirane, Y., Mori, F., Yamanaka, M., Nakanishi, M., Ishinazaka, T., Mano, T., … Shimozuru, M. (2020). Development of a noninvasive photograph-based method for the evaluation of body condition in free-ranging brown bears. PeerJ, 8, e9982. https://doi.org/10.7717/peerj.9982

Shrader, A. M., M, F. S., & Van Aarde, R. J. (2006). Digital photogrammetry and laser rangefinder techniques to measure African elephants, 1–7.

Stewart, J. D., Durban, J. W., Knowlton, A. R., Lynn, M. S., Fearnbach, H., Barbaro, J., … & Moore, M. J. (2021). Decreasing body lengths in North Atlantic right whales. Current Biology.

Walker, J. A., Alfaro, M. E., Noble, M. M., & Fulton, C. J. (2013). Body fineness ratio as a predictor of maximum prolonged-swimming speed in coral reef fishes. PloS one, 8(10), e75422.

The learning curve never stops as the GRANITE project begins its seventh field season

Clara Bird, PhD Student, OSU Department of Fisheries, Wildlife, and Conservation Sciences, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab

When I thought about what doing fieldwork would be like, before having done it myself, I imagined that it would be a challenging, but rewarding and fun experience (which it is). However, I underestimated both ends of the spectrum. I simultaneously did not expect just how hard it would be and could not imagine the thrill of working so close to whales in a beautiful place. One part that I really did not consider was the pre-season phase. Before we actually get out on the boats, we spend months preparing for the work. This prep work involves buying gear, revising and developing protocols, hiring new people, equipment maintenance and testing, and training new skills. Regardless of how many successful seasons came before a project, there are always new tasks and challenges in the preparation phase.

For example, as the GEMM Lab GRANITE project team geared up for its seventh field season, we had a few new components to prepare for. Just to remind you, the GRANITE (Gray whale Response to Ambient Noise Informed by Technology and Ecology) project’s field season typically takes place from June to mid-October of each year. Throughout this time period the field team goes out on a small RHIB (rigid hull inflatable boat), whenever the weather is good enough, to collect photo-ID data, fecal samples, and drone imagery of the Pacific Coast Feeding Group (PCFG) gray whales foraging near Newport, OR, USA. We use the data to assess the health, ecology and population dynamics of these whales, with our ultimate goal being to understand the effect of ambient noise on the population. As previous blogs have described, a typical field day involves long hours on the water looking for whales and collecting data. This year, one of our exciting new updates is that we are going out on two boats for the first part of the field season and starting our season 10 days early (our first day was May 20^th). These updates are happening because a National Science Foundation funded seismic survey is being conducted within our study area starting in June. The aim of this survey is to assess geophysical structures but provides us with an opportunity to assess the effect of seismic noise on our study group by collecting data before, during, and after the survey. So, we started our season early in order to capture the “before seismic survey” data and we are using a two-boat approach to maximize our data collection ability.

While this is a cool opportunistic project, implementing the two-boat approach came with a new set of challenges. We had to find a second boat to use, buy a new set of gear for the second boat, figure out the best way to set up our gear on a boat we had not used before, and update our data processing protocols to include data collected from two boats on the same day. Using two boats also means that everyone on the core field team works every day. This core team includes Leigh (lab director/fearless leader), Todd (research assistant), Lisa (PhD student), Ale (new post-doc), and me (Clara, PhD student). Leigh and Todd are our experts in boat driving and working with whales, Todd is our experienced drone pilot, I am our newly certified drone pilot, and Lisa, Ale, and myself are boat drivers. Something I am particularly excited about this season is that Lisa, Ale, and I all have at least one field season under our belts, which means that we get to become more involved in the process. We are learning how to trailer and drive the boats, fly the drones, and handling more of the post-field work data processing. We are becoming more involved in every step of a field day from start to finish, and while it means taking on more responsibility, it feels really exciting. Throughout most of graduate school, we grow as researchers as we develop our analytical and writing skills. But it’s just as valuable to build our skillset for field work. The ocean conditions were not ideal on the first day of the field season, so we spent our first day practicing our field skills.

For our “dry run” of a field day, we went through the process of a typical day, which mostly involved a lot of learning from Leigh and Todd. Lisa practiced her trailering and launching of the boat (figure 1), Ale and Lisa practiced driving the boat, and I practiced flying the drone (figure 2). Even though we never left the bay or saw any whales, I thoroughly enjoyed our dry run. It was useful to run through our routine, without rushing, to get all the kinks out, and it also felt wonderful to be learning in a supportive environment. Practicing new skills is stressful to say the least, especially when there is expensive equipment involved, and no one wants to mess up when they’re being watched. But our group was full of support and appreciation for the challenges of learning. We cheered for successful boat launchings and dockings, and drone landings. I left that day feeling good about practicing and improving my drone piloting skills, full of gratitude for our team and excited for the season ahead.

Figure 1. Lisa (driving the truck) launching the boat.

Figure 2. Clara (seated, wearing a black jacket) landing the drone in Ale’s hands.

All the diligent prep work paid off on Saturday with a great first day (figure 3). We conducted five GoPro drops (figure 4), collected seven fecal samples from four different whales (figure 5), and flew four drone flights over three individuals including our star from last season, Sole. Combined, we collected two trifectas (photo-ID images, fecal samples, and drone footage)! Our goal is to get as many trifectas as possible because we use them to study the relationship between the drone data (body condition and behavior) and the fecal sample data (hormones). We were all exhausted after 10 hours on the water, but we were all very excited to kick-start our field season with a great day.

Figure 3. Lisa on the bow pulpit during our first sighting of the day.

Figure 4. Lisa doing a GoPro drop, she’s lowering the GoPro into the water using the line in her hands.

Figure 5. Clara and Ale collecting a fecal sample.

On Sunday, just one boat went out to collect more data from Sole after a rainy morning and I successfully flew over her from launching to landing! We have a long season ahead, but I am excited to learn and see what data we collect. Stay tuned for more updates from team GRANITE as our season progresses!

The right tool for the job: examining the links between animal behavior, morphology and habitat

Clara Bird, PhD Student, OSU Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab

In order to understand a species’ distribution, spatial ecologists assess which habitat characteristics are most often associated with a species’ presence. Incorporating behavior data can improve this analysis by revealing the functional use of each habitat type, which can help scientists and managers assign relative value to different habitat types. For example, habitat used for foraging is often more important than habitat that a species just travels through. Further complexity is added when we consider that some species, such as gray whales, employ a variety of foraging tactics on a variety of prey types that are associated with different habitats. If individual foraging tactic specialization is present, different foraging habitats could be valuable to specific subgroups that use each tactic. Consequently, for a population that uses a variety of foraging tactics, it’s important to study the associations between tactics and habitat characteristics.

Lukoschek and McCormick’s (2001) study investigating the spatial distribution of a benthic fish species’ foraging behavior is a great example of combining data on behavior, habitat, and morphology. They collected data on the diet composition of individual fish categorized into different size classes (small, medium, and large) and what foraging tactics were used in which reef zones and habitat types. The foraging tactics ranged from feeding in the water column to digging (at a range of depths) in the benthic substrate. The results showed that an interesting combination of fish behavior and morphology explained the observed diet composition and spatial distribution patterns. Small fish foraged in shallower water, on smaller prey, and primarily employed the water column and shallow digging tactics. In contrast, large fish foraged in deep water, on larger prey, and primarily fed by digging deeper into the seafloor (Figure 1). This pattern is explained by both morphology and behavior. Morphologically, the size of the feeding apparatus (mouth gape size) affects the size of the prey that a fish can feed on. The gape of the small fish is not large enough to eat the larger prey that large fish are able to consume. Behaviorally, predation risk also affects habitat selection and tactic use. Small fish are at higher risk of being predated on, so they remain in shallow areas where they are more protected from predators and they don’t dig as deep to forage because they need to be able to keep an eye out for predators. Interestingly, while they found a relationship between the morphology of the fish and habitat use, they did not find an association between specific feeding tactics and habitat types.

*Figure 1. Figure from Lukoschek and McCormick (2001) showing that small fish (black bar) were found in shallow habitat while large fish (white bar) were found in deep habitat.*

Conversely, Torres and Read (2009) did find associations between theforaging tactics of bottlenose dolphins in Florida Bay, FL and habitat type. Dolphins in this bay employ three foraging tactics: herd and chase, mud ring feeding, and deep diving. Observations of the foraging tactics were linked to habitat characteristics and individual dolphins. The study found that these tactics are spatially structured by depth (Figure 2), with deep diving occurring in deep water whereas mud ring feeding occurrs in shallower water. They also found evidence of individual specialization! Individuals that were observed deep diving were not observed mud ring feeding and vice-versa. Furthermore, they found that individuals were found in the habitat type associated with their preferred tactic regardless of whether they were foraging or not. This result indicates that individual dolphins in this bay have a foraging tactic they prefer and tend to stay in the corresponding habitat type. These findings are really intriguing and raise interesting questions regarding how these tactics and specializations are developed or learned. These are questions that I am also interested in asking as part of my thesis.

*Figure 2. Figure from Torres and Read (2009) showing that deep diving is associated with deeper habitat while mud ring feeding is associated with shallow habitat.*

Both of these studies are cool examples that, combined, exemplify questions I am interested in examining using our study population of Pacific Coast Feeding Group (PCFG) gray whales. Like both studies, I am interested in assessing how specific foraging tactics are associated with habitat types. Our hypothesis is that different prey types live in different habitat types, so each tactic corresponds to the best way to feed on that prey type in that habitat. While predation risk doesn’t have as much of an effect on foraging gray whales as it does on small benthic fish, I do wonder how disturbance from boats could similarly affect tactic preference and spatial distribution. I am also curious to see if depth has an effect on tactic choice by using the morphology data from our drone-based photogrammetry. Given that these whales forage in water that is sometimes as deep as they are long, it stands to reason that maneuverability would affect tactic use. As described in a previous blog, I’m also looking for evidence of individual specialization. It will be fascinating to see how foraging preference relates to space use, habitat preference, and morphology.

These studies demonstrate the complexity involved in studying a population’s relationship to its habitat. Such research involves considering the morphology and physiology of the animals, their social, individual, foraging, and predator-prey behaviors, and the relationship between their prey and the habitat. It’s a bit daunting but mostly really exciting because better understanding each puzzle piece improves our ability to estimate how these animals will react to changing environmental conditions.

While I don’t have any answers to these questions yet, I will be working with a National Science Foundation Research Experience for Undergraduates intern this summer to develop a habitat map of our study area that will be used in this analysis and potentially answer some preliminary questions about PCFG gray whale habitat use patterns. So, stay tuned to hear more about our work this summer!

References

Lukoschek, V., & McCormick, M. (2001). Ontogeny of diet changes in a tropical benthic carnivorous fish, Parupeneus barberinus (Mullidae): Relationship between foraging behaviour, habitat use, jaw size, and prey selection. Marine Biology, 138(6), 1099–1113. https://doi.org/10.1007/s002270000530

Torres, L. G., & Read, A. J. (2009). Where to catch a fish? The influence of foraging tactics on the ecology of bottlenose dolphins ( Tursiops truncatus ) in Florida Bay, Florida. Marine Mammal Science, 25(4), 797–815. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1748-7692.2009.00297.x

Defining Behaviors

Clara Bird, PhD Student, OSU Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab

When I started working on my thesis, I anticipated many challenges related to studying the behavioral ecology of gray whales. From processing five-plus years of drone footage to data analysis, there has been no shortage of anticipated and unexpected issues. I recently hit an unexpected challenge when I started video processing that piqued my interest. As I’ve discussed in a previous blog, ethograms are lists of defined behaviors that help us properly and consistently collect data in a standardized approach. Ethograms form a crucial foundation of any behavior study as the behaviors defined ultimately affect what questions can be asked and what patterns are detected. Since I am working off of the thorough ethogram of Oregon gray whales from Torres et al. (2018), I had not given much thought to the process of adding behaviors to the ethogram. But, while processing the first chunk of drone videos, I noticed some behaviors that were not in the original ethogram and struggled to decide whether or not to add them. I learned that ethogram development can lead down several rabbit holes. The instinct to try and identify every movement is strong but dangerous. Every minute movement does not necessarily need to be included and it’s important to remember the ultimate goal of the analysis to avoid getting bogged down.

Fundamental behavior questions cannot be answered without ethograms. For example, Baker et al. (2017) developed an ethogram for bottlenose dolphins in Ireland in order to conduct an initial quantitative behavior analysis. They did so by reviewing published ethograms for bottlenose dolphins, consulting with multiple experts, and revising the ethogram throughout the study. They then used their data to test inter-observer variability, calculate activity budgets, and analyze how the activity budgets varied across space and time.

Howe et al. (2015) also developed an ethogram in order to conduct quantitative behavior analyses. Their goals were to use the ethogram and subsequent analyses to better understand the behavior of beluga whales in Cook Inlet, AK, USA and to inform conservation. They started by writing down all behaviors they observed in the field, then they consolidated their notes into a formal ethogram that they used and refined during subsequent field seasons. They used their data to analyze how the frequencies of different behaviors varied throughout the study area at different times. This study served as an initial analysis investigating the effect of anthropogenic disturbance and was refined in future studies.

My research is similarly geared towards understanding behavior patterns to ultimately inform conservation. The primary questions of my thesis involve individual specialization, patterns of behavior across space, the relationship between behavior and body condition, and social behavior (check out this blog to learn more). While deciding what behaviors to add to my ethogram I’ve had to remind myself of these main questions and the bigger picture. The drone footage lets us see so much detail that it’s tempting to try to define every movement we can observe. One rabbit hole I’ve had to avoid a few times is locomotion. From the footage, it is possible to document fluke beats and pectoral fin strokes. While it could be interesting to investigate how different whales move in different ways, it could easily become a complicated mess of classifying different movements and take me deep into the world of whale locomotion. Talking through what that work would look like reminded me that we cannot answer every question and trying to assess all exciting side projects can cause us to lose focus on the main questions.

While I avoided going down the locomotion rabbit hole, there were some new behaviors that I did add to my ethogram. I’ll illustrate the process with the examples of two new behaviors I recently added: fluke swish and pass under (Clips 1 and 2). Clip 1 shows a whale rapidly moving its fluke to the side. I chose to add fluke swish because it’s such a distinct movement and I’m curious to see if there’s a pattern across space, time, individual, or nearby human activity that might explain its function. Clip 2 shows a calf passing under its mom. It’s not nursing because the calf doesn’t spend time under its mom, it just crosses underneath her. The calf pass under behavior could be a type of mom-calf tactile interaction. Analyzing how the frequency of this behavior changes over time could show how a calf’s dependency on its mom changes over as it ages.

In defining these behaviors, I had to consider how many different variations of this behavior would be included in the definition. This process involves considering at what point a variation of that behavior could serve a different function, even without knowing the function of the original behavior. For fluke swish this process involved deciding to only count a behavior as a fluke swish if it was a big, fast movement. A small and slow movement of the fluke a little to the side could serve a different function, such as turning, or be a random movement.

Clip 1: Fluke swish behavior (Video filmed under NOAA/NMFS research permit #16111 by certified drone pilot Todd Chandler).

Clip 2: Pass under behavior (Video filmed under NOAA/NMFS research permit #16111 by certified drone pilot Todd Chandler).

The next step involved deciding if the behavior would be a ‘state’ or ‘point’ event. A state event is a behavior with a start and stop moment; a point event is instantaneous and assigned to just a point in time. I would categorize a behavior as a state event if I was interested in questions about its duration. For example, I could ask “what percentage of the total observation time was spent in a certain behavior state?” A point event would be a behavior where duration is not applicable, but I could ask a question like “Did whale 1 perform more point event A than whale 2?”. Both fluke swish and pass under are point events because they only happen for an instant. In a pass under the calf is passing under its mom for just a brief point in time, making it a point event. The final step was to name the behavior. As I discussed in this blog, the name of the behavior does not matter as much as the definition but it is important that the name is clear and descriptive. We chose the name fluke swish because the fluke rapidly moves from side to side and pass under because the calf crosses under its mom.

Frankly, in the beginning, I was a bit overwhelmed by the realization that the content of my ethogram would ultimately control the questions I could answer. I could not help but worry that after processing all the videos, I would end up regretting not defining more behaviors. However, after reading some of the literature, chatting with Leigh, and reviewing the initial chunk of videos several times, I am more confidence in my judgment and my ethogram. I have accepted the fact that I can’t anticipate everything, and I am confident that the behaviors I need to answer my research questions are included. The process of reviewing and updating my ethogram has been a rewarding challenge that resulted in a valuable lesson that I will take with me for the rest of my career.

References

Baker, I., O’Brien, J., McHugh, K., & Berrow, S. (2017). An ethogram for bottlenose dolphins (Tursiops truncatus) in the Shannon Estuary, Ireland. Aquatic Mammals, 43(6), 594–613. https://doi.org/10.1578/AM.43.6.2017.594

Howe, M., Castellote, M., Garner, C., McKee, P., Small, R. J., & Hobbs, R. (2015). Beluga, Delphinapterus leucas, ethogram: A tool for cook inlet beluga conservation? Marine Fisheries Review, 77(1), 32–40. https://doi.org/10.7755/MFR.77.1.3

Torres, L. G., Nieukirk, S. L., Lemos, L., & Chandler, T. E. (2018). Drone up! Quantifying whale behavior from a new perspective improves observational capacity. Frontiers in Marine Science, 5(SEP). https://doi.org/10.3389/fmars.2018.00319

Are there picky eaters in the PCFG?

Clara Bird, PhD Student, OSU Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab

As anyone who has ever been, or raised, a picky eater knows, humans have a wide range of food preferences. The diversity of available cuisines is a testament to the fact that we have individual food preferences. While taste is certainly a primary influence, nutritional benefits and accessibility are other major factors that affect our eating choices. But we are not the only species to have food preferences. In cetacean research, it is common to study the prey types consumed by a population as a whole. Narrowing these prey preferences down to the individual level is rare. While the individual component is challenging to study and to incorporate into population models, it is important to consider what the effects of individual foraging specialization might be.

To understand the role and drivers of individual specialization in population ecology, it is important to first understand the concepts of niche variation and partitioning. An animal’s ecological niche describes its role in the ecosystem it inhabits (Hutchinson, 1957). A niche is multidimensional, with dimensions for different environmental conditions and resources that a species requires. One focus of my research pertains to the dimensions of the niche related to foraging. As discussed in a previous blog, niche partitioning occurs when ecological space is shared between competitors through access to resources varies across different dimensions such as prey type, foraging location, and time of day when foraging takes place. Niche partitioning is usually discussed on the scale of different species coexisting in an ecosystem. Pianka’s theory stating that niche partitioning will increase as prey availability decreases uses competing lizard species as the example (Pianka, 1974). Typically, niche partitioning theory considers inter-specific competition (competition between species), but niche partitioning can take place within a species in response to intra-specific competition (competition between individuals of the same species) through individual niche variation.

A species that consumes a multitude of prey types is considered a generalist while one with a specific prey type is considered a specialist. Gray whales are considered generalists (Nerini, 1984). However, we do not know if each individual gray whale is a generalist or if the generalist population is actually composed of individual specialists with different preferences. One way to test for the presence of individual specialization is to compare the niche width of the population to the niche width of each individual (Figure 1, Bolnick et al., 2003). For example, if a population eats five different types of prey and each individual consumed those prey types, those individuals would be generalists. However, if each individual only consumed one of the prey types, then those individuals would be specialists within a generalist population.

Figure 1. Figure from Bolnick et al. 2003. The thick curve represents the total niche of the population and the thin curves represent individual niches. Note that in both panels the population has the same total niche. In **panel A**, the individual curves overlap and are all pretty wide. These curves represent individual generalists that make up a generalist population. In **panel B**, the thin curves are narrower and do not overlap as much as those in panel A. These curves represent individual specialists that make up a generalist population.

If individual specialization is present in a population the natural follow-up question is why? To answer this, we look for common characteristics between the individuals that are similarly specialized. What do all the individuals that feed on the same prey type have in common? Common characterizations that may be found include age, sex, or distinct morphology (such as different beak or body shapes) (Bolnick et al., 2003).

Woo et al. (2008) studied individual specialization in Brünnich’s guillemot, a generalist sea bird species, using diet and tagging data. They found individual specialization in both diet (prey type) and behavior (dive depth, shape, and flight time). Specialization occurred across multiple timescales but was higher over short-time scales. The authors found that it was more common for an individual to specialize in a prey-type/foraging tactic for a few days than for that specialization to continue across years, although a few individuals were specialists for the full 15-year period of the study. Based on reproductive success of the studies birds, the authors concluded that the generalist and specialist strategies were largely equivalent in terms of fitness and survival. The authors searched for common characteristics in the individuals with similar specialization and they found that the differences between sexes or age classes were so small that neither grouping explained the observed individual specialization. This is an interesting result because it suggests that there is some missing attribute, that of the authors did not examine, that might explain why individual specialists were present in the population.

Hoelzel et al. (1989) studied minke whale foraging specialization by observing the foraging behaviors of 23 minke whales over five years from a small boat. They identified two foraging tactics: lunge feeding and bird-associated feeding. Lunge feeding involved lunging up through the water with an open mouth to engulf a group of fish, while bird-associated feeding took advantage of a group of fish being preyed on by sea birds to attack the fish from below while they were already being attacked from above. They found that nine individuals used lunge feeding, and of those nine, six whales used this tactic exclusively. Five of those six whales were observed in at least two years. Seventeen whales were observed using bird-associated feeding, 14 exclusively. Of those 14, eight were observed in at least two years. Interestingly, like Woo et al. (2008), this study did not find any associations between foraging tactic use and sex, age, or size of whale. Through a comparison of dive durations and feeding rates, they hypothesized that lunge feeding was more energetically costly but resulted in more food, while bird-associated feeding was energetically cheaper but had a lower capture rate. This result means that these two strategies might have the similar energetic payoffs.

Both of these studies are examples of questions that I am excited to ask using our data on the PCFG gray whales feeding off the Oregon coast (especially after doing the research for this blog). We have excellent individual-specific data to address questions of specialization because the field teams for this project always carefully link observed behaviors with individual whale ID. Using these data, I am curious to find out if the whales in our study group are individual specialists or generalists (or some combination of the two). I am also interested in relating specific tactics to their energetic costs and benefits in order to assess the payoffs of each foraging tactic. I then hope to combine the results of both analyses to assess the payoffs of each individual whale’s strategy.

Figure 2. Example images of two foraging tactics, side swimming (left) and headstanding (right). Images captured under NOAA/NMFS permit #21678.

Studying individual specialization is important for conservation. Consider the earlier example of a generalist population that consumes five prey items but is composed of individual specialists. If the presence of individual specialization is not accounted for in management plans, then regulations may protect certain prey types or foraging tactics/areas of the whales and not others. Such a management plan could be a dangerous outcome for the whale population because only parts of the population would be protected, while other specialists are at risk, thus potentially losing genetic diversity, cultural behaviors, and ecological resilience in the population as a whole. A plan designed to maximize protection for all the specialists would be better for the population because populations with increased ecological resilience are more likely to persist through periods of rapid environmental change. Furthermore, understanding individual specialization could help us better predict how a population might be affected by environmental change. Environmental change does not affect all prey species in the same way. An individual specialization study could help identify which whales might be most affected by predicted environmental changes. Therefore, in addition to being a fascinating and exciting research question, it is important to test for individual specialization in order to improve management and our overall understanding of the PCFG gray whale population.

References

Bolnick, D. I., Svanbäck, R., Fordyce, J. A., Yang, L. H., Davis, J. M., Hulsey, C. D., & Forister, M. L. (2003). The ecology of individuals: Incidence and implications of individual specialization. American Naturalist, 161(1), 1–28. https://doi.org/10.1086/343878

Hoelzel, A. R., Dorsey, E. M., & Stern, S. J. (1989). The foraging specializations of individual minke whales. Animal Behaviour, 38(5), 786–794. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0003-3472(89)80111-3

Hutchinson, G. E. (1957). Concluding Remarks. Cold Spring Harbor Symposia on Quantitative Biology, 22(0), 415–427. https://doi.org/10.1101/sqb.1957.022.01.039

Nerini, M. (1984). A Review of Gray Whale Feeding Ecology. In The Gray Whale: Eschrichtius Robustus (pp. 423–450). Elsevier Inc. https://doi.org/10.1016/B978-0-08-092372-7.50024-8

Pianka, E. R. (1974). Niche Overlap and Diffuse Competition. 71(5), 2141–2145.

Woo, K. J., Elliott, K. H., Davidson, M., Gaston, A. J., & Davoren, G. K. (2008). Individual specialization in diet by a generalist marine predator reflects specialization in foraging behaviour. Journal of Animal Ecology, 77(6), 1082–1091. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1365-2656.2008.01429.x

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