Scientist at Work: Life at the Edge of the Verde Island Passage

Rich MooiThe California Academy of Sciences team and its Philippine collaborators approach a new dive site, expecting new and amazing things. The Philippine boats we use are called bankas, and they are ideal dive platforms?— a fantastic blend of speed and stability.

Rich Mooi, curator of invertebrate zoology and geology at the California Academy of Sciences, writes from the Philippines, where he is surveying echinoderms off the coast of Luzon Island.

This is the most amazing place I have ever been in my 30 years of research. We are situated in Mabini, southern Luzon, at the edge of the Verde Island Passage, studying the marine biodiversity of this center of the center of species richness in the Indo-Pacific region. Each day starts with a series of dives, and ends in night dives that further reveal nocturnal denizens of the passage.

We have racked up more than 115 sampling visits over the past few weeks, yet surprises still keep us astonished. Like Mr. Gump and his box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get. Our team is finding a new species of sea slug per day and more new bristle worms (polychaetes) than we can process, and our expert on sponges from the Philippines National Museum has more than doubled the size of that museum’s entire sponge collection. Our mutually beneficial collaborations with a team of experts on reef-building corals from the University of the Philippines netted 50 or more staghorn coral species from a single location. The Verde Island Passage is living up to its reputation: The ocean vibrates with the cycles of living things inhabiting every nook and cranny.

I, too, have stories from my own area of expertise, the sea urchins — those spiky balls that occur everywhere here. Urchins belong to a group known technically as the echinoids. Echinoids come in two main varieties: One is more or less spherical, with long-spined forms, and is a conspicuous inhabitant of reefs and rocks. The most familiar of echinoids, these are sometimes informally referred to as “regular” urchins because the mouth on the bottom is surrounded by five regularly radiating rows of tube feet that converge again at the top of the dome-shaped body. These animals wedge themselves into crevices with their spines or, in the case of the black urchins that have long spines that can inflict damage to the unwary (fish or divers), live brazenly out in the open. Another large group of urchins might be called “stealth” urchins. These are less seldom seen, and keep mysteries of their own.

Rich MooiThe rare, wily and newly discovered red form of Echinothrix. Is this the first new species of the genus in over 230 years?

In a few weeks here, I have identified 42 species of sea urchins, about half of which fall into the “regular” category. This is staggering diversity when it comes to these animals. Among these is a real stinger of an urchin in the genus Echinothrix that is normally pale, with banded spines. I received an e-mail from a colleague suggesting that I look out for a red variety that could be a new species. Within hours, a diver brought me an urchin that looked sort of familiar, yet not so. The red variety had karmically appeared, and molecular and other work can now be done to determine if this is a new species in the genus. Although these large, relatively dangerous urchins are known throughout the Indo-Pacific, there has not been a new species of Echinothrix in over 230 years.

Rich MooiThis small urchin, Lissodiadema, is only about an inch across the body. It hides under rocks and in small caves in the reef. It was known from Hawaii to Guam, but we have extended its known range to the Philippines.Rich MooiThe spines of Lissodiadema are so thin, they can flex at the slightest pressure. Why they are like this is completely unknown.Rich MooiJuvenile fire urchins, Asthenosoma, are almost never found. Every spine on this species has a venom gland, and the sting is like an electric shock. Note the iridescent blue spots common to this group of urchins — perhaps nature’s way of saying “do not touch”?

There are other ways of making new discoveries apart from finding new species. For many years I have been working on “regular” echinoids called hair-spined urchins. These are small-bodied, but with very long spines. The spines are as thin as or thinner than a human hair, even though they are made of the same limestone skeleton as the rest of the body. It’s as if these urchins have learned to “spin” limestone into fibers like we spin fibers of silica into fiberglass. Like fiberglass, the spines of these urchins are unexpectedly flexible. In spite of these fascinating attributes, this urchin remains very poorly known, and only a handful of specimens exist in all the world’s museums. The nearest record to the Philippines was 1,500 miles away as a fish swims, in Guam.

Another remarkable range extension was found for a species of fire urchins, so named because of a nasty sting deliverable by every spine on its body. So we have discovered major range extensions of some of the most mysterious and poorly known of all “regular” urchins found in shallow waters.

In my next entry, I will introduce you to the world of those stealthy “irregular” urchins. Sand dollars, sea biscuits, and sea mice have their own odd stories to tell.

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Scientist at Work: Getting to the Tundra

 Natalie Boelman Researchers returning to camp, with Toolik Lake in the foreground, still partly covered with ice.

Natalie Boelman, an ecosystem ecologist at the Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory at Columbia University, writes from the North Slope of Alaska, where she is studying the effects of climate change on the interactions among plants, insects and migratory songbirds.

I’ve been doing fieldwork in the foothills of the Brooks Mountain Range on the Alaska North Slope since 2001. This area is part of the tundra ecosystem, which is characterized by permanently frozen ground and the absence of trees.? All of my work in this rather remote region has been based out of the Toolik Field Station. The purpose of most of my visits to Toolik has been to explore the use of remote sensing techniques to measure the response of tundra vegetation to climate change and, more recently, wildfire.

But last summer, my collaborators (Laura Gough from the University of Texas at Arlington, and John Wingfield from the University of California, Davis) and I began working on a new project that extends beyond the response of tundra plants to explore the effect that changes in vegetation have on organisms at higher trophic levels that depend on it for food and shelter.

In a nutshell, we are exploring how global climate change will affect songbirds that spend winters in our backyards and migrate to Alaskan tundra to breed every summer.? Among other effects, Arctic warming is causing spring snowmelt to occur earlier, and is changing the type of plant growth on the tundra. Over the course of five songbird breeding seasons (2010 through 2015), we’re testing a series of predictions related to songbirds and their interactions with plants and insects, to begin to untangle the complex relationships among these groups in the context of these warming-induced changes.? We began this project last spring, so this spring marks the beginning of our second field season, which began on May 1 and will end on Aug. 2.

I left New York City on May 25 to join other members of my science team at the Toolik Field Station.? Although I’m just getting to Toolik now, we’ve had a small early-season crew working to get this year’s field season up and running since May 1.? It takes two days to get from Manhattan to Toolik. On the way there, I made a stopover in Seattle to hand over our two children to my parents, who live down the road in Vancouver, British Columbia.? Our daughter, Aline (4 years old), was all smiles when I said goodbye, excited to play in a garden and get spoiled rotten for two weeks.? On the contrary, however, our son, Nico (2 years old), wasn’t too thrilled to see me walk away.? Poor little man — Mummy will be back soon!? I took a deep breath, waved goodbye, and continued northward on Alaska Airlines to Anchorage.

Caged next to me on the flight, in seat 18B, was Poncho the yellow cockatiel, a species of bird endemic to Australia and popular as a house pet worldwide. Poncho and his keeper, in 18C, were traveling from Phoenix, where they spend winters, to King Salmon, Alaska, where they spend summers.? Is migration via commercial jet considered migration fraud in the bird world?

Natalie BoelmanThe welcome sign at the general store in Deadhorse, Alaska.

After switching to a connecting flight in Anchorage, I arrived in Deadhorse, Alaska, which is located not quite at the Arctic Ocean, and is very obviously dedicated the extraction of oil. To be honest, it’s a rather unsightly gravel pad lined with semipermanent buildings — a charming place. Here I was met by the “Toolik Taxi,” a large and dusty pickup truck operated by field station workers.? Justin, the driver,? drove us south for about three hours along the Dalton Highway, a gravel road built to support the Trans-Alaska Pipeline System, which runs from Deadhorse to Valdez.

Natalie BoelmanA willow ptarmigan.

As we made our way toward the field station, we saw caribou, musk oxen, a 25-gallon barrel that we initially mistook for a grizzly bear, a very mischievous-looking red fox, some waterfowl and a few willow ptarmigan (a k a? tundra chickens).

Relative to other ecosystems, there are few animal species in the Arctic, and as a result there is little “functional redundancy” among Arctic species.??This means that Arctic ecosystems are both unique and fragile, because if a single species is lost — for instance, because they’re unable to adapt to life in an increasingly warmer Arctic — there will most likely be no other species available to fill in the ecological gap, or to perform the ecosystem functions the original species was responsible for.? To make a simple analogy, imagine that the factory worker whose job it is to attach the wheels to cars in an assembly line gets laid off and isn’t replaced because no one else with the right skill set is available to take over the job.? Without someone to put the wheels on, no marketable cars can be made and the factory is likely to shut down.? Similarly, every component of the Arctic tundra ecosystem is essential to its function. Remove one, and things are likely to fall apart.

Natalie BoelmanA musk ox.

We arrived at the field station around 9 p.m.? Of course, since we are north of the Arctic Circle, where the sun doesn’t set all summer long, it felt more like noon.? It’s always hard getting used to the perpetual daylight up here.? On one hand, it’s great because you can be in the field doing your work for as long as you please.? On the other hand, you can wear yourself out pretty easily, so we pay special attention to our watches, set time limits and force ourselves into bed every night.

I heated up some delicious leftovers from dinnertime, and briefly caught up with some friends and colleagues who have been in camp for a while.? I’m recovering from a cold that’s caused me to temporarily lose my voice, so I’m communicating through strained whispers. As a result, folks are joking that I’m talking about “secret science.”? By 11:30 p.m. I settled into my trailer room, pulled down the blinds to keep the sun out, and fell asleep.

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