Stand up and shout!

Today I was inspired by a New York Times articled titled “Groups Call for Scientists to Engage the Body Politic." Shockingly, the flaccid and uninteresting headline failed to catch my attention but I luckily was drawn in by the interactive quiz feature. The quiz tests your ability to identify pictures of scientists. I got 9/10 but I’m not going to lie I used process of elimination on at least four of the questions and got very lucky. The feature and the article highlight the un-recognizable-ness of some of today’s top scientists.

The crux of the article is that scientists almost always fly under the radar. I am curious to what extent this is by choice and to what extent it is accidental. My guess is that it’s a bit of both. I’m sure some scientists fancy themselves to be well-known but are quite the opposite. And I would also bet that there are a lot of scientists who believe that their scientific research will do the talking for itself. We’re here to science, not to become rock stars right?

WRONG.

There is little point to what I do every day if the work is never passed along and explained to the people who might benefit from it. Use whatever word you like: “end user,” “consumer,” “implementer,” “manager.” First things first: they need to know you exist and they need to know what you think! This is especially crucial in today’s political atmosphere where climate change and evolution are treated as topics of debate instead of important scientific realities.

If we are truly to respect ourselves, the science we do, and the people who can use that science, then we need to get out there and speak.

You will never have a voice if you don’t open your mouth.

-Ellie

PS: If you can name the movie that inspired the title of this post, I will give you a gold star!

Albatross, Sea Lions, and Penguins: Oh My!

5:40 pm July 2^nd 2011

The sun has set over Dunedin and as we drive deeper into Otago County the gloaming shrouds miles of farmland. Hundreds of sheep are still discernable in the faint light that remains.

I am on my way to the New Zealand Marine Science Society’s annual conference and chose to take the weekend before the meeting to see a small chunk of the far south. The 3ish day conference is being held on Stewart Island, sometimes referred to as New Zealand’s “third island,” but in reality a small blob off the southern tip of the South Island.

My first stop was Dunedin, home of Otago University. Immediately after checking in to the backpackers (aka hostel) I headed to the weekly farmers market—a brilliant decision. On top of the delicious apricot loaf and bean soup that I purchased, I was gifted a small chunk of brie cheese and some apples! Some of the Kiwi vendors, being so incredibly kind, seemed to get carried away chatting with me and decided I was a good enough person to merit some free produce. I did not argue!

Having stocked up, I headed to my pick up location for a wildlife tour on the Otago Peninsula. This was also a really good decision. The folks at ELM Tours did a fantastic job of showing us the peninsula’s abundant bird and marine life. The first stop was the Royal Albatross Colony where we viewed Royal Albatross chicks (don’t let the word “chick” throw you off—they are quite large) and were lucky enough to get a fly-by from a magnificent adult bird. These creatures have a three-meter wingspan and measure a bit over a meter from beak to tail. So, the fly-by past our observation hut was really special.

While the albatross colony was cool, I have to say that phase two of the tour was the best. We headed to a DoC conservation area that has a fur seal colony—very cute—and a penguin colony.

Fur Seal:

Additionally, Hooker Sea Lions (aka New Zealand sea lions), which are only found in NZ, like to hang out on that beach. We walked within feet of these feisty and amazing animals. Let me tell you, they are a bit scary and they aren’t afraid of us. In the states, I would have definitely had to sign a liability waver, but it being New Zealand, no one seemed to care that these animals could have mauled us because we wouldn’t have the legal right to sue the tour company anyway.

Nap Time:

Sea Lion Love:

We hit the beach at just the right time to see the penguins come home from a day of fishing and we even got some good Nat Geo-esque action as the returning penguins tried to avoid some lazing sea lions on the beach (video to follow on facebook)! The footage of these goofy birds waddling up the beach and then fleeing back to the ocean at the twitch of a sea lion flipper is definitely worthy of a you-tube voice over. They headed in from sea, crossed the beach, found their mates, and climbed up and over the hill. By far the penguins were my favorite.

Penguin Heading Home:

Having fully enjoyed the peninsula, I spent today in town exploring shops and the museum . Now it’s off to Invercargill for the night and Stewart Island tomorrow!

Perks

Celebrating the Queen’s Birthday

In New Zealand there is a national holiday in observance of the queen’s birthday. This may seem a bit funny to those Americans out there—at least it did to me—but when you think about it, it’s kind of like president’s day. The day affords Kiwis a long weekend to go on holiday somewhere or just relax at home.

I took the opportunity to travel down to the northern bit of the South Island. We visited “the sounds” region and it was a fantastic trip.

On top of the fun and games, I was able to drive on the left side of the road for about an hour without any major disasters!

There were gorgeous vistas:

Exciting roads:

And of course, lovely sunsets:

I also found a stuffed Cincinnati Red's baseball bat in a second hand store!!

The Fabulous Feijoa

If you ever get the chance to eat feijoa (Fee-Joe-Ah) fruit in your life, take it! In my book, the almighty feijoa is one of evolution’s chart-toppers. It is tart and sweet all at the same time. You cut it in half and spoon in out. Yum!

In addition to the actual fruit, one can also enjoy feijoa lollies (aka candy) that are delicious, feijoa vodka that is odd but nice, and feijoa tea that’s always satisfying after a hard day’s work. As I had not seen them before arriving in New Zealand, I assume you can’t get feijoas in the states. This fact has set me on a mission to eat as many feijoa fruits and feijoa-flavored items as humanly possibly while here.

Walks around Wellington

There are so many great things about Wellington that it’s hard to isolate just a few of the city’s attributes as “the best.” However, one of the most enjoyable aspects of the city is the green belt that basically horseshoes around the CBD providing fantastic hiking and stunning views without having to travel any distance. For example, a few of my mates and I explored the “skyline track” that runs along a ridge north of the city.

The enzymes ate my homework!

Edgar Allan Poe was pretty good at what he did but I’m fairly convinced that his stories would have been enhanced had he spent time in a molecular biology lab. No joke. It can be truly frightening because things will just go wrong. Horribly wrong. And you might not know why. In fact—in my case at least—you almost never know why. And to figure it out takes time and then by that point you’re both behind in the work you were meant to do and late to re-do whatever it was that didn’t work.

As you may have guessed, I feel a bit like I’ve been in a Poe-esque story for the last couple of weeks (granted we had a lovely Queen’s Birthday weekend holiday in the middle of it—look for an upcoming post).

Essentially I thought I was all set to send off DNA samples to be sequenced. I had done all the build-up work and I felt really good about the work I’d done. Thiw was likely my first mistake, since the Molecular Biology Gods (MBGs) can smell satisfaction and to them it smells like skunks. Just to be cautious I tested a few of my samples to make sure they were high enough concentration to sequence. They weren’t really. Well, technically they were too low. But I thought, “well, my sequences worked before and not much has changed so maybe it’s just a mistake and it will work.”

Nope. Sequencing didn’t work. The next logical step was to test all the other samples I had waiting to get sequenced. Their concentrations were also too low. At this point I was pretty upset because we’re talking about 80 samples that I thought I was basically done with.

So what happened to the DNA? My theory is that the enzymes I added to “clean” my PCR reaction—the ExoSAP that I talked about in my “scientific waste” entry—was inexplicably eating double stranded DNA in addition to the other stuff it is meant to eat. I’m currently trying to prove this but the little mini-experiments I’m setting up to test it are on the back burner as I try to redo essentially a month or more of work in a couple of weeks—using a different clean-up protocol, of course. It’s a new art called “Turbo Science!”

Hesitantly, I will report that it’s going okay but I refuse to be satisfied with my work thus far lest I upset the MBGs again.

Today, a number of samples went off to be sequenced. So, if you want to do me a favor, cross you fingers and hope that they come out okay! =)

Thanks friends,

Ellie

Real and imagined boundaries, magical people, and the science/policy interface

Small introductory note:

Let’s be honest, people: my blog is kind of pathetic. Anemic. Atrophied. Wandering hopelessly through the desert without food or water, incapable of muttering a coherent thought. Today I vow to more than double my entries by the end of June (that kind of sounds like a campaign promise, eh?). Let’s get going!

The post:

Johnny Cash was on to something: walking the line. Yes, that sounds good. But the line I want to walk is the line between science and policy. That imaginary bureaucratic, academic, and largely psychological line that we draw between the science we do and the world that can use it.

For some people, the line is more a brick wall. It is an impervious boundary that divides two disciplines. This is embraced by some academics because it makes them feel safe. On the other hand, many scientists lament the brick wall. They do this not because they want to see what’s on the other side, but, perhaps, because they sincerely long for a day when the powerful folks living on the policy side of the wall will climb over to see what’s on the science side. This may very well be a vain hope. Let’s be frank: the folks on the policy side of the wall would much prefer—for good reason—that scientists build some kind of ramp, or whatever complex machinery they need to build to feel smart, and have a go at effectively presenting their work to the “big boys.”

And yet, some scientists have turned this brick wall into more of a semi-permeable membrane. They appear to know how to package their material and present it effectively so that it floats through small, imaginary pores in the membrane, disseminating on both side. My guess is that there are people on either side of the line who would like to make these pores bigger, easier to find, and more frequently used. Or maybe we need someone to navigate the membrane for groups on both sides.

On Fridays when we’re both free, I meet with my supervisor at NIWA to discuss progress on the project, any problems I may have, and whatever tangential topics we discover in the heat of the moment.

Yesterday we chatted about this line and how I would like to be working right at the line, or even—gasp—crossing it frequently during my career. He mentioned that what is really needed is someone whose sole purpose is to patrol the line. No, patrol is the wrong word. Negotiate the line. A liaison, if you will.

This excites me. “Yes,” I said, “I want to be that person!” The problem, he says, is that no one really wants to employ that person (at least it doesn’t seem they want to in NZ) because they aren’t really “billable.” What do they produce? What to they make? I think they make all the science more meaningful by, you know, getting it to be useful to policy-makers. Therefore that person actually makes everything better and makes the research institution an asset to the country. That doesn’t seem to be something that translates into making money, however. Also, it’s not an easy job!

He launched into the job description for someone who might want to liaise between ocean scientists and policy-makers:

--Understands ocean science…broadly…. (does anyone?)

--Knows how to get scientists to explain their work

--Understands policy

--Personable

--Is perceptive and can compromise

--Good at communicating

--Knows what the policy world needs

--Knows how the science world can help

--Basically, possesses magical powers

Whoa there!! I have to be MAGICAL?!

A moment of thought followed by: “Yes…. that’s still the kind of thing I want to do.” Now I just need to work on those magical powers.

Scientific Waste

I have a friend who recently embarked on a voyage from NZ to Hawaii on board a traditional sailing Waka, or canoe (visit the voyage website, it’s really cool!). The trip is not only a way for the participants to engage with their heritage as sea-faring peoples but also a chance to raise awareness about ocean-related environmental issues like acidification, ocean trash, overfishing, etc. Part of their pre-voyage training focused on the impact that they will have on the ocean and ways they can minimize this impact while at sea.

One of the Wakas in the marina in Auckland:

Great effort went in to planning how they might go about reducing waste but in the end, the solutions are not that complicated. They bought bulk shampoo and soap for the crew that comes in biodegradable containers. They minimized the waste that will come from the kitchen by making sure that products are in metal cans or cardboard that won’t float around the ocean for thousands of years to come. This got me thinking about oceanographic research cruises because ocean trash is a real issue and humans have to stop dumping plastic into the oceans.

As a marine scientist I’ve often wondered at the many things we do in the field and in the lab that create waste and have an overall negative impact on the marine environment.

When we go to sea, it seems that no one is paying attention to the waste we create on board because everyone is too concerened about their own scientific mission. Everyone brings their own plastic bottles of shampoo, and myriad of other toiletry products. I’ve heard stories of deep-sea submersibles that have come across trash at hydrothermal vent sites that they eventually figure out was generated on the ship. I’m hoping to talk with people in charge of the WHOI fleet and other scientists that I go to sea with about ways the ship can minimize its impact on the sea. But, most importantly, I will make a commitment to doing better myself and only bringing ocean-friendly products with me to sea. Do you have stories of waste at sea or can you think of ways that we can be better?

This is WHOI's R/V Atlantis—how can we green this ship?!

After collecting animals at sea, most of my actual “sceince” happens when we get back on shore. Certain types of laboratory science create massive amounts of plastic, rubber, and chemical waste. Because I’m interested in population genetics I do most of my work in a molecular biology lab working with hundreds of tubes, pipette tips, latex and nitrile gloves, and 96 well plates, which means I go through lots of plastic and other synthetic materials that we throw away. Lab waste doesn’t get recycled beacause it’s often covered in nasty chemicals. I’ve often wondered why no one has found a way to get around this. Is there some way to wash or melt-down and purify the plastic pipette tips? Why do we have to throw away so much plastic?

Eppendorf glorifies their "consumable products" by publishing free monthly wallpaper art for your computer, like these rt PCR plates:

There are several differences between my lab here at NIWA and my home lab at WHOI, like the use different reagents, different protocols, or different brands of chemicals for certain reactions. I’m often a bit hesitant to use something new partly because when I go back to WHOI, it’s important that I be able to replicate the work I’m doing here. But in some cases, there are alternative methods to what I’m used to that could be more effective, cheaper, or even reduce waste.

For example, there are two contrasting ways to “clean up” a gene product that we get from PCR. Essentially, PCR makes a bunch of copies of one particular gene of interest. Once the reaction is run, there are some reagents—chemicals and pieces of DNA—that we want to get rid of because they might make it harder to sequence the gene that we’ve copied. To do this, I usually use a column clean-up method, produced by QIAGEN. Essentially, there is this magical tube (see below) with a membrane made out of silica that selectively binds the DNA we want and allows us to wash away everything we don’t want. In the final step, you rinse the DNA off the membrane into a new tube and you’ve got a “clean” product. Then you throw away the columns and the all old tubes.

At NIWA, someone has suggested that I use a different method called ExoSAP, which is an enzyme cocktail that digests the small bits of DNA that we don’t want. I was hesitant to accept this suggestion, but while looking at the website and reading that it advertised itseld as the “greener method” to clean up PCRs, I realized that I should really have a go because it could seriously reduce the waste that my project produces and will likely work just as well.

I’m sure that there are many ways that we can work on laboratoy trash, it’s just that someone needs to sit down and think a bit about it. I’m going to try to dedicate myself to being more aware of the ways that my science impacts the environment because there’s little sense in claiming that I’m out to conserve the oceans if I am, in fact, doing harm to the environment in the process.

Apology Haikus

Untitled #1:
Disappointing you;
Failure to communicate!
I will do better.

Untitled #2:
When lab work fails me,
motivation alludes me.
Hard to find topics.

Untitled #3:
PCR banding
that looks like lunar landing...
Contamination?

Titled #1:
I hope you get these:
Creativity attempts.
If not, more to come.

BiomimiWHAT?

Since arriving in New Zealand I have somehow surrounded myself with excessively smart people. From the other Fulbright students, to the delegates at the Future Partnership Forum, to folks at work, the people I encounter have given me a constant stream of interesting ideas and new important issues to consider. There’s nothing like having a fascinating conversation or attending a stimulating lecture to put you in a good mood and I’ve been lucky to experience several over the last seven weeks (yes, I’ve been here seven weeks already!).

Science excites me for several reasons: first of all, it’s usually extremely cool; second of all, it can help us improve our understanding of ourselves and of our place in the world; third of all—and this is what I’m most passionate about—science presents us with a wonderfully rational and elegant way to approach management of resources and regulation of our own actions, as well as a way to progress as a civilization that will hopefully someday incorporate the earth’s fine-tuned balance.

Since going to the Future Partnership Forum in Christchurch (part of the larger US-NZ council’s Partnership Forum) last month, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about the ways in which not only science and policy, but also science and industry, interact. (Mind you, these are not exclusive pairings.) I’ve been thinking about what it means to innovate. Creativity is the only path that will lead us to solutions for our toughest problems like dwindling resources, food and water crises, and climate change.

On my drive up to Auckland last weekend, my friend and I started discussing innovation and creativity in design, focusing on sustainability and our current environmental challenges. The conversation turned to a field called biomimicry. The concept is simple but inspired: look at how the earth and its creatures work, and try to use the designs of Mother Nature in our own products. My friend mentioned a company called Whale Power, which I have since looked up online.

The Whale Power website tells the story of the initial conception of the project: Dr. Frank Fish (amazing name) inspected a figurine of a humpback whale and wanted to understand why the whale’s flippers where bumpy on the front edge. After some serious research, he designed new blades for windmills that are more efficient than the smooth ones that human engineers first built. This is similar to the “invention” of Velcro by George de Mestral who noticed the efficacy of burrs at attaching to clothing and hair.

(Humpback whale from the web)

Coincidentally, this week at NIWA, the Thursday lecture focused on biomimicry. The speaker, a recent graduate of a masters program at Harvard University where he studies in the Lauder Laboratory, shared with us work he’d done on the fluid dynamics surrounding seal whiskers and sharkskin. Sharkskin has long been suspected to greatly reduce drag and facilitate fast and easy movement in the water, but until Johannes Oeffner decided to pursue the question for his master's thesis, no one had ever proved the existence of or quantified the phenomenon. (Spoiler alert: the sharkskin does reduce drag but a quantifiable amount!)

Data like those presented by Johannes can have an enormous impact on engineering and industry. Now that we know how good sharkskin is at reducing drag, we can design boat hulls, submarines, and cars that reduce drag with similar mechanisms, in turn reducing the energy input required to run those machines. To be sure, you readers can probably think of many more applications than I can!

(close up of sharkskin from a "glog" ?)

The Whale Power website highlights how using biological models as a template for design is, in a way, creating a product that has been field-tested for millions of years. I love the concept that the evolutionary iterations of an organism—from the constant evolution of unseen proteins to the alteration of physical characteristics we can see—represent an inimitable series of field tests. What an awesome way to look at evolution!

If we are going to achieve a better way of living, whom else should we look to but Mother Nature?

R/V Tangaroa

This past weekend I went on a trip up north to Rotorua and then on to Auckland. While I flew through Auckland on my way into the country, I had never seen any of the countryside north of Wellington and I jumped at the chance to join my friend on a little road trip up the island. The drive was absolutely gorgeous and I had a great time.

It just so happened that my advisor from the states was coming into port in Auckland after a three week research cruise to the Kermadec Ridge, home to a submarine volcano range and some really cool deep-sea ecosystems. The ship docked at about 9 am and he was flying back to the states that night, so I snuck in a quick meeting that afternoon to discuss my Fulbright project.

He joined a number of colleagues from NIWA, the Institute of Geological and Nuclear Science, or GNS, the University of Washington, and others, on board NIWA’s R/V Tangaro. In Maori culture, Tangaroa is the God responsible for the sea.

Upon arrival in Auckland, I found my way straight to the dock and met with my advisor on the ship. When the meeting was over, my friend James, an engineer at WHOI gave me a tour of the ship, highlighting some of the quirkier aspects of the R/V Tangaroa.

Like the tile bathtub…

…and the factory-like rooms down below that I imagine were used for fish processing. I have no proper sources for this assumption, but I think it used to be a trawler before it was converted to a research ship.

I even snapped a shot of the city skyline from inside the ship's bridge.


I stayed in Auckland until Tuesday afternoon and really enjoyed catching up with friends and checking out the city. A special highlight was the Maritime Museum, which had a huge range of exhibits from traditional islander and Maori canoes to the winning 1995 America's cup Yacht. The museum is a must do in Auckland.

What can I say? I'm a total ocean nerd!

Thinking vs. Doing

I can be hard-headed and sometimes I can have trouble stepping back and accepting the fact that I know virtually nothing about anything. I will carry on thinking that I’m on the right track until something—a journal article I read, an e-mail I receive, or a meeting that doesn’t go as planned—smacks me in the side of the face (figuratively speaking of course) and screams “you have no idea what you’re doing!” When this hard truth hits, it can be quite upsetting and I sometimes let it result in a “bad day” which may or may not involve complete loss of confidence, withdrawing to my office, and/or taking everything anyone says the wrong way, suspecting that they too have lost all faith in me. This paints a picture of an extreme case, but it does happen.

While preparing to leave Woods Hole for New Zealand, I was chatting with my advisor Dr. Tim Shank at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution (WHOI) about the year to come. He said something that caught me off guard which, paraphrased, went something like this: “If you come back to WHOI with a boatload of genetic data about species around New Zealand, you will not have had a successful year. But if you come back understanding what goes into designing a research project, that will be success.”

My emotional response to this was a cocktail of excited and a bit irritated. I was excited because this whole learning to sculpt a research project business sounded like a very large step down the poorly-defined, often blocked, and tumultuous road between studentville and scientist city that we call a PhD program.

So, why did this also bug me? Because in my mind I had already come up with a research project: I was going to study the genetic connectivity of seamount invertebrates and try to understand what the genetic legacy of bottom trawling might be on benthic dwelling species. I had a topic. I had leader-of-the-field advisors to work with at New Zealand’s National Institute of Water and Atmospheric Research (NIWA). I was going to hop on a plane, land in New Zealand, grab a pile of samples, and be a DNA-sequence-generating lab-dwelling machine for a year (with brief breaks to explore the country and play cello of course). But that would have been too easy and, in the end, pretty pointless.

While I knew that my previous forays into the world of science were heavily skewed to the grunt labor side of things, it was never as clear to me as it is now just how little I know about how to do science. Working as a summer intern or a lab tech for months at a time gave me a very naïve version of how things work. Over the three weeks that I’ve been at NIWA I’ve been working to formulate an actual plan and proposal for how to proceed with my research. So I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. At each step—actually figuring out what the research questions are, choosing a target species, determining the physical sites of the populations I am to use, and trying to understand what genetic markers and tests could help illuminate patterns of gene flow in the deep sea—I find that there is an entire world of knowledge that I have never broached. It’s almost terrifying how much there is to learn. And while I could spend the rest of my life THINKING about these topics, there’s a very hard-headed part of me that wants to start DOING.

There have been some good days when I think I know what I’m going to do and I’m just one tantalizing step from being able to actually get in the lab and start doing work. And surely there have been some not-so-good days when leads that I thought I had on samples or genetic markers fall through and I realize I haven’t made progress.

But yesterday was the first bad day. Yesterday felt like one of those smacks in the face I was talking about. I received information that, while actually really helpful in designing my study, has strongly made me reconsider using the two species I was hoping to use for my major research questions.

What do you do with this kind of information? You breathe deeply and start thinking again. It’s called being a rational human and it can be extremely difficult. So, after my typical series of irrational emotional responses—helplessness, uselessness, frustration, omni-directional worry—I’m back to thinking. Rationally.

Something that my NIWA advisor, Dr. Ashley Rowden said to me last week will make a lasting impression on my career, I think. When I expressed my eagerness to get in the lab and start doing things, he essentially said, “Ellie, I have news for you. This reading and thinking is most of what science is.”

Sirens, bells, and whistles exploded in my brain (well, probably I just grunted) because this led me to recall what Tim had said back in January about what a successful year would look like. He was telling me that success would be learning to think and not just do. When two extremely intelligent and well-published scientists from almost directly opposite sides of the globe seem to have the same message, they must have a point.

Mountains under the sea

As some of my friends and family know, the last couple of weeks have been extremely eventful and emotional for me here in New Zealand but let's be honest: I've been a horrible blogger thus far. I was in Christchurch when the earthquake hit on February 22nd and while the story of my experience would probably make a good blog post of sorts, what I’d rather do is give you some resources to help the people of Christchurch and move on to something more science-like. So if you are able, and feel so compelled, please donate to the NZ Red cross to help the effort in Christchurch by clicking here.

So, on to the mountains of the sea…

If you think you can plan a trip to the world’s longest mountain range and gaze in awe at its magnificent peaks, you’re wrong. You would have trouble getting to the longest mountain range on earth, as it is in the ocean. The mid ocean ridge (MOR) extends for 80,000 kilometers (while length of continuous mountains is ~65,000 km) and runs throughout the world’s ocean. Fore reference, the earth’s circumference is roughly 40,000 km!

Here's a map from wikipedia (the pink shows the MOR system):

Like on land, the mountain ranges of the oceans (including the MOR and others) outline the planet’s subduction zones and spreading centers, where tectonic plates crash into each other or are pulled apart, dramatically destroying and creating the earth’s crust. And here’s the cool thing about the ocean, in addition to the MOR, there are thought to be hundreds of thousands of seamounts, or undersea mountains, splattered across the globe (think Jackson Pollock).

Seamounts are a hard geological feature to define (pun intended). If you ask any number of ocean scientists to do so, you are likely to get a range of answers depending on discipline. If you are going to be a serious geologist about it, an underwater feature is only a seamount if it rises more than 1,000 meters off the seafloor. However, we biologists are more likely to clump much smaller features—down to 100 meters in altitude—into the definition. I’ve discovered that in New Zealand, some of the legislation about seamounts uses this broader definition, much to the chagrin of the fishing industry. Here’s why.

Many commercially valuable deep-sea fish like orange roughy (pictured below), and oreo (yes, that's a kind of fish!) aggregate on seamounts. Because of the way the ocean currents interact with these bathymetric features, lots of the nutrients and food necessary for benthic invertebrates and pelagic fish alike to thrive are in high abundance at seamounts. It follows, then, that fisheries would target seamounts while trawling for fish, and who’s to blame them? But when we think about managing the fisheries and try to understand the effects that fishing has on the marine environment, we must consider the impact that trawling will have on the benthic habitat and the organisms within that habitat. When writing the laws, however, if one uses the broader definition of seamount, then more features will be subject to whatever regulation is being imposed, thus explaining the aversion of some fisheries advocates to the use of a more lenient definition.

Orange Roughy on a seamount (this photo was taken by one of my advisors, Malcolm Clark, from NIWA. This particular file is from 3news.co.nz):

Some people find it hard to relate to the marine environment. What’s below the low tide mark remains hidden to almost all people and many marine species continue to be eaten but never seen. Think about how many times you may have eaten fish sticks or fish and chips; now try to think about what cod or haddock look like. Can you? If that was an easy one for you, what about the deep-water coral and other benthic invertebrates often caught as bycatch? As the animals we eat remain largely mysterious, we find the environment from which they came to be virtually unimaginable.

If you decide to follow this blog as I share with you my journey as a graduate student through the world of deep-sea science, I hope that you will soon find yourself as enthralled with the deep sea as I am!

Until next time,

E

I’m in McDonald’s…

...it’s different here I promise. I’m not saying it’s healthier than back home—in fact, my Lonely Planet guidebook has blamed an influx of fast food for increasing problems with obesity and poor health here in New Zealand (sound familiar?)—but, it is NICER. First of all, there are flat-screen-TVs playing David Bowie music videos throughout. There’s even one near the play area so you can watch your kids AND David at the same time.

Did I come here for a supersized fries or maybe because I was cosmically driven towards the perpetually sexy pop icon and Labyrinth star? No, I’m here because in my quest for free Wi-Fi in Wellington, one name pervades. McDonald’s. I was unaware of this development. After a quick google, I discovered that it’s also happening in the states. So, keep an eye open if you’re looking for a wireless hook up. And if you're curious, I ordered a small coke.

During a conversation last week I think I offended some Kiwis when I quickly shot down their implication that I might like Micky-D’s. One could even say I scoffed. Arrogantly. So, in the interest of cultural exchange (roll eyes here), I thought I’d give it a try and see if the atmosphere could inspire my second blog post. It seems to have done the trick.

While writing the above paragraphs, David Bowie has transformed into Taylor Swift! There is something for everyone here. There’s even an orchid (fine, it’s probably fake, but still) over the pastry counter (yes, PASTRY COUNTER).

So, if you talk to someone from overseas and they engage you in a conversation about McDonald’s, just remember, it's different here.

-Ellie

PS: I apologize for the lack of pictures. I've tried to upload images for each of these first posts but for some reason they won't upload. Not sure how to fix this but I'll work on it.

Committing to the backwards roll

Wellington, NZ

You’ve found me! Welcome to “In an Octopus’s Garden,” version 2.0. This blog initially appeared as a chronicle of my second summer at Woods Hole as a Summer Student Fellow (SSF) and is now accessible through the WHOI SSF website. I'm now a graduate student in the Joint Program with WHOI/MIT.

I arrived tonight in Wellington, New Zealand as a Fulbright grant recipient. This is the first of what I hope to be many entries this year.

The clearest analogy I can conjure to describe my state of mind is from my limited experience SCUBA diving. I was certified in the spring of last year in Madagascar while volunteering with the British NGO Reef Doctor. One of the most challenging aspects of my dive training was getting used to the backwards roll—laugh all you will, it was a challenge for me. For those of you unfamiliar, the backwards roll is one of a few ways you can enter the water from a dive boat. First you perch, seated, on the edge of the boat in full gear—mask on, regulator in your mouth, tank strapped on and hanging off the side of the boat (abs flexed so as not to tumble backwards). Yes, it’s uncomfortable. With your back to the sea, you try to breathe normally, and on the boat captain’s count you roll backwards to hit the water with your feet up. In Madagascar, our boat captain Manjo would give a forceful “One….Two….Three…… Go!” The “Go” always came out very short, a little late, and quite abrupt, propelling us off the boat and into the water.

There are a few long seconds of disorientation before you right yourself and find the surface again. I found this to be scary. But as with all things, it’s less scary if you truly commit to it and embrace its necessity.

On Sunday night, I gathered with friends at my favorite bar near MIT in Cambridge, and celebrated my send-off. Starting on Monday afternoon, my five flights and many, many hours of travel represented a form of prolonged backwards roll. To come is a scary but brief disorientation. And, as is the case with every SCUBA experience I’ve had, the initial hurdle of tossing myself into the water will be followed by exploration, adventure, and wonderment.

The next couple entries will detail my impressions upon arrival, give you background into the research I plan to do while here and give you a chance to get to know me better.

I am so excited to share my experiences with you—both personal and scientific—throughout this journey.

One....Two....Three............

-Ellie