By Dawn Barlow, M.S. Ph.D. student, Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, Oregon State University
For years, I have said I want to do “applied conservation science”. As an undergraduate student at Pitzer College I was a double major in Biology and Environmental Policy. While I have known that I wanted to study the oceans on some level my whole life, and I have known for about a decade that I wanted to be a scientist, I realized in college that I wanted to learn how science could be a tool for effective conservation of the marine ecosystems that fascinate me.
Answering questions during my public defense seminar. Photo by Leila Lemos.
Just over a week ago, I successfully defended my MS thesis. When Leigh introduced me at the public seminar, she read a line from my initial letter to her expressing my interest in being her graduate student: “My passion for cetacean research lies not only in fascination of the animals but also how to translate our knowledge of their biology and ecological roles into effective conservation and management measures.” I believe I’ve grown and learned a lot in the two and a half years since I crafted that email and nervously hit send, but the statement is still true.
My graduate research in many ways epitomizes what I am passionate about. I am part of a team studying the ecology of blue whales in a highly industrial area of New Zealand. Not only is it a system in which we can address fascinating questions in ecology, it is also a region that experiences extensive pressure from human use and so all of our findings have direct management implications.
We recently published a paper documenting and describing this New Zealand blue whale population, and the findings reached audiences and news outlets far and wide. Leigh and I are headed to New Zealand for the first two weeks in July. During this time we will not only present our latest findings at the Society for Conservation Biology Oceania Conference, we will also meet with managers at the New Zealand Department of Conservation, speak with the Minister of Energy and Resources as well as the Minster of Conservation, meet with the CEO and Policy Advisor of PEPANZ (a representative group of oil and gas companies in New Zealand), and participate in a symposium of scientists and stakeholders aiming to establish goals for the protection of whales in New Zealand. Now, “applied conservation science” extends well beyond a section in the discussion of a paper outlining the implications of the findings for management.
A blue whale surfaces in front of a floating production storage and offloading (FPSO) vessel servicing the oil rigs in the South Taranaki Bight. Photo by Dawn Barlow.
During our 2017 field season in New Zealand, Leigh and I found ourselves musing on the flying bridge of the research vessel about all the research questions still to be asked of this study system and these blue whales. How do they forage? What are their energetic demands? How does disturbance from oil and gas exploration impact their foraging and their energetic demands? Leigh smiled and told me, “You better watch out, or this will turn into your PhD.” I said that maybe it should. Now I am thrilled to immerse myself into the next phase of this research project and the next chapter of my academic journey as a PhD student. This work is applied conservation science, and I am a conservation biologist. Here’s to retaining my passion for ecology and fascination with my study system, while not losing sight of the implications and applications of my work for conservation. I am excited for what is to come!
Dawn Barlow and Dr. Leigh Torres aboard the R/V Star Keys during the 2017 blue whale field season in New Zealand. Photo by Todd Chandler.
By Dominique Kone, Masters Student in Marine Resource Management
Species reintroductions can be hotly contested issues because they can negatively impact other species, ecosystems, and society, as well as failing, altogether. The uncertainty of their outcomes forces stakeholder groups to form their own opinions on whether it’s a good idea to proceed with a reintroduction. When you have several groups with conflicting values and views, managers need to focus on the information most important for them to make a well-informed decision on whether to pursue a reintroduction.
As researchers, we can play an important role by carefully considering and addressing these views through our research, if the appropriate data is available. Despite being in the early days of our study on the potential sea otter reintroduction to Oregon, we have already heard several perspectives regarding its potential success, the type of research we should do, and if sea otters should be brought back to Oregon. Here, I present some of the most interesting and relevant opinions, perspectives, and theories I’ve heard regarding this reintroduction idea.
Source: Suzi Eszterhas
The first reintroduction failed because of X, Y, and Z.
From 1970-1971, managers translocated 93 sea otters to Oregon in a reintroduction effort (Jameson et al. 1982). However, in a matter of 5-6 years, all sea otters disappeared, and the effort was considered a failure. Researchers have theorized that sea otters left Oregon due to a lack of suitable habitat and prey, or to return home to sites from which they were captured. Others have reasoned that managers should have introduced southern sea otters instead of northern sea otters, suggesting one subspecies’ genetic pre-disposition may improve their chance for survival.
Knowing the reasons for this failure may help managers avoid these causes in a future reintroduction attempt and increase its chance of success. We, as scientists, can also gain insight from knowing these causes because this may help us better tailor our research to potentially investigate whether those causes still pose a threat to sea otters during a second attempt. Unfortunately, we lack concrete evidence on what exactly caused this failure, but we can still work to test some these theories.
Source: Mike Baird.
An otter is an otter, no matter where you put it.
There is evidence that northern and southern sea otters are genetically distinct, to a certain degree (Valentine et al. 2008, Larson et al. 2012), and hypotheses have been put forward that the two subspecies may be behaviorally- and ecologically-distinct, too. Studies have shown that northern and southern sea otters have different sized and shaped skulls and teeth, which researchers hypothesize may be a specialized foraging adaptation for consuming different prey species (Campbell & Santana 2017, Timm-Davis et al. 2015). This view suggests that each subspecies has developed unique traits to adapt to the environmental conditions specific to their current ranges. Therefore, when considering which subspecies to bring to Oregon, managers should reintroduce the subspecies with traits better-suited to cope with the types of habitat, prey assemblages, and oceanographic conditions specific to Oregon.
However, other scientists hold the opposite view, and argue that “an otter is an otter” no matter where you put it. This perspective suggests that both subspecies have an equal chance at surviving in any type of suitable habitat because all otters behave in similar ways. Therefore, ecologically, it may not matter which subspecies managers bring to Oregon.
Source: Trover
Oregon doesn’t have enough sea otter habitat.
Kelp is considered important sea otter habitat. In areas with high sea otter densities, such as central and southern California, kelp forests are persistent throughout the year. However, in Oregon, our kelp primarily consists of bull kelp – a slightly more fragile species compared to the durable giant kelp in California. In winter, this bull kelp gets dislodged during intense storms, resulting in seasonal changes in kelp availability. Managers worry that this seasonality could reduce the amount of suitable habitat, to the point where Oregon may not be able to support sea otters.
Yet, we know sea otters used to exist here; therefore, we can assume there must have been some suitable habitat that may persist today. Furthermore, sea otters use a range of habitats, including estuaries, bays, and reefs (Laidre et al. 2009, Lafferty & Tinker 2014, Kvitek et al. 1988). Therefore, even during times when kelp is less abundant, sea otters could use these other forms of habitat along the Oregon coast. Luckily, we have the spatial tools and data to assess how much, where, and when we have suitable habitat, and I will specifically address this in my thesis.
They’ll eat everything!
Sea otters are famous for their voracious appetites for benthic invertebrates, some of which are of commercial and recreational importance to nearshore fisheries. In some cases, sea otters have significantly reduced prey densities, such as sea urchins and Dungeness crab (Garshelis & Garshelis 1984, Estes & Palmisano 1974). However, without a formal analysis, it’s difficult to know if sea otters will have similar impacts on Oregon’s nearshore species, as well as at spatial scale these impacts will occur and whether our fisheries will be affected. We can predict where sea otters are likely to occur based on the presence of suitable habitat, but foraging impacts could be more localized or widespread across sea otter’s entire potential range. To better anticipate these impacts, managers will need an understanding of how much sea otters eat, where foraging could occur based on the availability of prey, and where sea otters and fisheries are likely to interact. I will also address this concern in my thesis.
Source: Suzi Eszterhas
To reintroduce or not to reintroduce? That is the question.
I have found that many scientists and managers have strong opinions on whether it’s appropriate to bring sea otters back to Oregon. Those who argue against a reintroduction often highlight many of the theories already mentioned here – lack of habitat, potential impacts to fisheries, and genetics. While other opponents provided more logistical and practical justifications, such as confounding politics, as well as difficulties in getting public support and regulatory permission to move a federally-listed species.
In contrast, proponents of this idea argue that a reintroduction could augment the recovery of the species by providing additional habitat for the species to rebound to pre-exploitation levels, as well as allowing for increased gene flow between southern and northern sea otter populations. Other proponents have brought up potential benefits to humans, such restoring ecosystem services, providing an economic boost through tourism, or preserving tribal and cultural connections. Such benefits may be worth attempting another reintroduction effort.
As you can see, there are several opinions and perspectives related to a potential sea otter reintroduction to Oregon. While it’s important to consider all opinions, managers still need facts to make key decisions. Scientists can play an important role in providing this information, so managers can make a well-informed decision. Oregon managers have not yet decided whether to proceed with a sea otter reintroduction, but our lab is working to provide them with reliable and accurate science, so they may form their own opinions and arrive at their own decision.
References:
Estes, J. A. and J. F. Palmisano. 1974. Sea otters: the role in structuring nearshore communities. Science. 185: 1058-1060.
Garshelis, D. L. and J. A. Garshelis. 1984. Movements and management of sea otters in Alaska. The Journal of Wildlife Management. 48: 665-678.
Jameson, R. J, Kenyon, K. W., Johnson, A. M., and H. M. Wight. 1982. History and status of translocated sea otter populations in North America. Wildlife Society Bulletin. 10: 100-107.
Lafferty, K. D., and M. T. Tinker. 2014. Sea otters are recolonizing southern California in fits and starts. Ecosphere. 5(5).
Laidre, K. L., Jameson, R. J., Gurarie, E., Jeffries, S. J., and H. Allen. 2009. Spatial habitat use patterns of sea otters in coastal Washington. Journal of Mammalogy. 90(4): 906-917.
Kvitek, R. G. ,Fukayama, A. K., Anderson, B. S., and B. K. Grimm. 1988. Sea otter foraging on deep-burrowing bivalves in a California coastal lagoon. Marine Biology. 98: 157-167.
Larson, S., Jameson, R., Etnier, M., Jones, T., and R. Hall. 2012. Genetic diversity and population parameters of sea otters, Enhydra lutris, before fur trade extirpation from 1741-1911. PLoS ONE. 7(3).
Timm-Davis, L. L, DeWitt, T. J., and C. D. Marshall. 2015. Divergent skull morphology supports two trophic specializations in otters (Lutrinae). PLoS ONE. 10(12).
Valentine et al. 2008. Ancient DNA reveals genotypic relationships among Oregon populations of the sea otter (Enhydra lutris). Conservation Genetics. 9:933-938.
By Dominique Kone, Masters Student in Marine Resource Management
When considering a species reintroduction into an area, it is important to assess the suitability of the area’s habitat before such efforts begin. By doing this assessment at the outset, managers and conservationists can gain a better understanding of the capacity of the area to support a viable population overtime, and ultimately the success of the reintroduction. However, to do a habitat assessment, researchers must first have a base understanding of the species’ ecological characteristics, behavior, and the physical habitat features necessary for the species’ survival. For my thesis, I plan to conduct a similar assessment to identify suitable sea otter habitat to inform a potential sea otter reintroduction to the Oregon coast.
Source: The Tribune.
To start my assessment, I conducted a literature review of studies that observed and recorded the various types of habitats where sea otters currently exist. In my research, I learned that sea otters use in a range of environments, each with a unique set of habitat characteristics. With so many features to sort through, I have focused on specific habitat features that are consistent across most of the current range of sea otters – from Alaska to California – and are important for at least some aspects of sea otters’ everyday life or behavior, specifically foraging. Focusing my analysis on foraging habitat makes sense as sea otters require around 30% of their body weight in food every day (Costa 1978, Reidman & Estes 1990). Meaning sea otters spend most of their day searching for food.
Here, I present four habitat features I will incorporate into my analysis and explain why these features are important for sea otter foraging behavior and survival.
Habitat Features:
Kelp: Sea otters are famously known for the benefits they provide to kelp forests. In the classic three-trophic-level model, sea otters allow for the growth of kelp by keeping sea urchins – consumers of kelp – in check (Estes & Palmisano 1974). Additionally, sea otters and kelp have a mutually-beneficial relationship. Sea otters will often wrap themselves amongst the top of kelp stocks while feeding, resting, or grooming to prevent being carried away by surface currents. Meanwhile, it’s thought that kelp provide a refuge for sea otters seeking to avoid predators, such as sharks, as well as their prey.
Source: The Telegraph.
Distance from Kelp: The use of kelp, by sea otters, is relatively straight-forward. Yet, kelp can still have an influence on sea otter behavior even when not used directly. A 2014 study found that sea otters along the southern California coast were almost 10 times more likely to be located within kelp habitat than outside, while outside kelp beds sea otter numbers declined with distance from the edge of kelp canopies. Sea otters will often forage outside or next to kelp canopies when prey’s available, and even sometimes to socialize in age- or sex-specific rafts (Lafferty & Tinker 2014). These findings indicate that sea otters can and do regularly disperse away from kelp habitat, but because they’re so dependent on kelp, they don’t stray very far.
Seafloor Substrate: Sea otters forage over a variety of sediment substrates, including rocks, gravel, seagrass, and even sometimes sand. For example, sea otters hunt sea urchins over rocky substrates, while in other areas they may hunt for crabs in seagrass beds (Estes & Palmisano 1974, Hughes et al. 2014). The type of substrate sea otters forage in typically depends on the substrate needs of their target prey species. Despite some variability across their range, sea otters predominantly forage in rocky substrate environments. Rocky substrate is also necessary for kelp, whose holdfasts need to attach to hard, stable surfaces (Carney et al. 2005).
Source: Save our Seas Foundation.
Depth: Seafloor depth plays a pivotal role in sea otter foraging behavior and therefore acts as a natural boundary that determines how far away from shore sea otters distribute. Many of the prey species sea otters eat – including sea urchins, crabs, and snails – live on the seafloor of the inner continental shelf, requiring sea otters to dive when foraging. Interestingly, sea otters exhibit a non-linear relationship with depth, where most individuals forage at intermediate depths as opposed to extremely shallow or deep waters. One study found the average foraging depth to be around 15 meters (Lafferty & Tinker 2014). This behavior results in a hump-shaped distribution of diving patterns as illustrated in Figure 1 below.
Figure 1. Average probability of occurrence as a function of depth for female (A) and male (B) sea otters as predicted by a synoptic model of space-use (Tinker et al. 2017).
Of course, local conditions and available habitat are always a factor. For example, a study found that sea otters along the coast of Washington foraged further from shore and in slightly shallower environments than sea otters in California (Laidre et al. 2009), indicating that local topography is important in determining distribution. Additionally, diving requires energy and limits how deep sea otters are able to forage for prey. Therefore, diving patterns are not only a function of local topography, but also availability of prey and foraging efficiency in exploiting that prey. Regardless, most sea otter populations follow this hump-shaped diving pattern.
Source: Doretta Smith.
These features are not a complete list of all habitat characteristics that support viable sea otter populations, but seem to be the most consistent throughout their entire range, as well as present in Oregon’s nearshore environment – making them ideal features to include in my analysis. Furthermore, other studies that have predicted suitable sea otter habitat (Tinker et al. 2017), estimated carrying capacity as a product of suitable habitat identification (Laidre et al. 2002), or simply observed sea otter foraging behavior (Estes & Palmisano 1974), have echoed the importance of these four habitat features to sea otter survival.
As with most reintroduction efforts, the process of identifying suitable habitat for the species of interest can be complicated. No two ecosystems or habitats are exactly alike and each comprise their own unique set of physical features and are impacted by environmental processes to varying degrees. The Oregon coast consists of a unique combination of oceanographic conditions and drivers that likely impact the degree and amount of available habitat to sea otters. Despite this, by focusing on the habitat features that are consistently preferred by sea otters across most of their range, I will be able to identify habitat most suitable for sea otter survival in Oregon. The questions of where this habitat is and how much is available are what I’ll determine soon, so stay tuned.
References:
Carney, L. T., Robert Waaland, J., Kilinger, T., and K. Ewing. 2005. Restoration of the bull kelp Nereocystis luetkeana in nearshore rocky habitats. Marine Ecology Progress Series. 302: 49-61.
Costas, D. P. 1978. The ecological energetics, waters, and electrolyte balance of the California sea otter (Enhydra lutris). Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Santa Cruz.
Estes, J. A. and J. F. Palmisano. 1974. Sea otters: their role in structuring nearshore communities. Science. 185(4156): 1058-1060.
Hughes et al. 2014. Recovery of a top predator mediate negative eutrophic effects on seagrass. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. 110(38): 15313-15318.
Lafferty, K. D. and M. T. Tinker. 2014. Sea otters are recolonizing southern California in fits and starts. Ecosphere. 5(5): 1-11.
Laidre et al. 2002. Estimates of carrying capacity for sea otters in Washington state. Wildlife Society Bulletin. 30(4): 1172-1181.
Laidre et al. 2009. Spatial habitat use patterns of sea otters in coastal Washington. Journal of Mammalogy. 90(4): 906-917.
Tinker et al. 2017. Southern sea otter range expansion and habitat use in the Santa Barbara Channel, California: U.S. Geological Survey Open-File Report 2017-1001 (OCS Study BOEM 2017-022), 76 p., http://doi.org/10.3133/ofr20171001.
Reidman, M. L. and J. A. Estes. 1990. The sea otter (Enhydra lutris): behavior, ecology, and natural history. United States Department of the Interior, Fish and Wildlife Service, Biological Report. 90: 1-126.
By Alexa Kownacki, Ph.D. Student, OSU Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab
When we hear “marine policy” we broadly lump it together with environmental policy. However, marine ecosystems differ greatly from their terrestrial counterparts. We wouldn’t manage a forest like an ocean, nor would we manage an ocean like a forest. Why not? The answer to this question is complex and involves everything from ecology to politics.
Oceans do not have borders; they are fluid and dynamic. Interestingly, by defining marine ecosystems we are applying some kind of borders. But water (and all its natural and unnatural content) flows between these ‘ecosystems’. Marine ecosystems are home to a variety of anthropogenic activities such as transportation and recreation, in addition to an abundance of species that represent the three major domains of biology: Archaea, Bacteria, and Eukarya. Humans are the only creatures who “recognize” the borders that policymakers and policy actors have instilled. A migrating gray whale does not have a passport stamped as it travels from its breeding grounds in Mexican waters to its feeding grounds in the Gulf of Alaska. In contrast, a large cargo ship—or even a small sailing vessel—that crosses those boundaries is subjected to a series of immigration checkpoints. Combining these human and the non-human facets makes marine policy complex and variable.
The eastern Pacific gray whale migration route includes waters off of Mexico, Canada, and the United States. Source: https://www.learner.org/jnorth/tm/gwhale/annual/map.html
Environmental policy of any kind can be challenging. Marine environmental policy adds many more convoluted layers in terms of unknowns; marine ecosystems are understudied relative to terrestrial ecosystems and therefore have less research conducted on how to best manage them. Additionally, there are more hands in the cookie jar, so to speak; more governments and more stakeholders with more opinions (Leslie and McLeod 2007). So, with fewer examples of successful ecosystem-based management in coastal and marine environments and more institutions with varied goals, marine ecosystems become challenging to manage and monitor.
A visual representation of what can happen when there are many groups with different goals: no one can easily get what they want. Image Source: The Brew Monks
With this in mind, it is understandable that there is no official manual on policy development. There is, however, a broadly standardized process of how to develop, implement, and evaluate environmental policies: 1) recognize a problem 2) propose a solution 3) choose a solution 4) put the solution into effect and 4) monitor the results (Zacharias pp. 16-21). For a policy to be deemed successful, specific criteria must be met, which means that a common policy is necessary for implementation and enforcement. Within the United States, there are a multiple governing bodies that protect the ocean, including the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS), and the Department of Defense (DoD)—all of which have different mission statements, budgets, and proposals. To create effective environmental policies, collaboration between various groups is imperative. Nevertheless, bringing these groups together, even those within the same nation, requires time, money, and flexibility.
This is not to say that environmental policy for terrestrial systems, but there are fewer moving parts to manage. For example, a forest in the United States would likely not be an international jurisdiction case because the borders are permanent lines and national management does not overlap. However, at a state level, jurisdiction may overlap with potentially conflicting agendas. A critical difference in management strategies is preservation versus conservation. Preservation focuses on protecting nature from use and discourages altering the environment. Conservation, centers on wise-use practices that allow for proper human use of environments such as resource use for economic groups. One environmental group may believe in preservation, while one government agency may believe in conservation, creating friction amongst how the land should be used: timber harvest, public use, private purchasing, etc.
Linear representation of preservation versus conservation versus exploitation. Image Source: Raoof Mostafazadeh
Furthermore, a terrestrial forest has distinct edges with measurable and observable qualities; it possesses intrinsic and extrinsic values that are broadly recognized because humans have been utilizing them for centuries. Intrinsic values are things that people can monetize, such as commercial fisheries or timber harvests whereas extrinsic values are things that are challenging to put an actual price on in terms of biological diversity, such as the enjoyment of nature or the role of species in pest management; extrinsic values generally have a high level of human subjectivity because the context of that “resource” in question varies upon circumstances (White 2013). Humans are more likely to align positively with conservation policies if there are extrinsic benefits to them; therefore, anthropocentric values associated with the resources are protected (Rode et al. 2015). Hence, when creating marine policy, monetary values are often placed on the resources, but marine environments are less well-studied due to lack of accessibility and funding, making any valuation very challenging.
The differences between direct (intrinsic) versus indirect (extrinsic) values to biodiversity that factor into environmental policy. Image Source: Conservationscienceblog.wordpress.com
Assigning a cost or benefit to environmental services is subjective (Dearborn and Kark 2010). What is the benefit to a child seeing an endangered killer whale for the first time? One could argue priceless. In order for conservation measures to be implemented, values—intrinsic and extrinsic—are assigned to the goods and services that the marine environment provides—such as seafood and how the ocean functions as a carbon sink. Based off of the four main criteria used to evaluate policy, the true issue becomes assessing the merit and worth. There is an often-overlooked flaw with policy models: it assumes rational behavior (Zacharias 126). Policy involves relationships and opinions, not only the scientific facts that inform them; this is true in terrestrial and marine environments. People have their own agendas that influence, not only the policies themselves, but the speed at which they are proposed and implemented.
Tourists aboard a whale-watching vessel off of the San Juan Islands, enjoying orca in the wild. Image Source: Seattle Orca Whale Watching
One example of how marine policy evolves is through groups, such as the International Whaling Commission, that gather to discuss such policies while representing many different stakeholders. Some cultures value the whale for food, others for its contributions to the surrounding ecosystems—such as supporting healthy seafood populations. Valuing one over the other goes beyond a monetary value and delves deeper into the cultures, politics, economics, and ethics. Subjectivity is the name of the game in environmental policy, and, in marine environmental policy, there are many factors unaccounted for, that decision-making is incredibly challenging.
Efficacy in terms of the public policy for marine systems presents a challenge because policy happens slowly, as does research. There is no equation that fits all problems because the variables are different and dynamic; they change based on the situation and can be unpredictable. When comparing institutional versus impact effectiveness, they both are hard to measure without concrete goals (Leslie and McLeod 2007). Marine ecosystems are open environments which add an additional hurdle: setting measurable and achievable goals. Terrestrial environments contain resources that more people utilize, more frequently, and therefore have more set goals. Without a problem and potential solution there is no policy. Terrestrial systems have problems that humans recognize. Marine systems have problems that are not as visible to people on a daily basis. Therefore, terrestrial systems have more solutions presented to mitigate problems and more policies enacted.
As marine scientists, we don’t always immediately consider how marine policy impacts our research. In the case of my project, marine policy is something I constantly have to consider. Common bottlenose dolphins are protected under the Marine Mammal Protection Act (MMPA) and inhabit coastal of both the United States and Mexico, including within some Marine Protected Areas (MPA). In addition, some funding for the project comes from NOAA and the DoD. Even on the surface-level it is clear that policy is something we must consider as marine scientists—whether we want to or not. We may do our best to inform policymakers with results and education based on our research, but marine policy requires value-based judgements based on politics, economics, and human objectivity—all of which are challenging to harmonize into a succinct problem with a clear solution.
Two common bottlenose dolphins (coastal ecotype) traveling along the Santa Barbara, CA shoreline. Image Source: Alexa Kownacki
References:
Dearborn, D. C. and Kark, S. 2010. Motivations for Conserving Urban Biodiversity. Conservation Biology, 24: 432-440. doi:10.1111/j.1523-1739.2009.01328.x
Leslie, H. M. and McLeod, K. L. (2007), Confronting the challenges of implementing marine ecosystem‐based management. Frontiers in Ecology and the Environment, 5: 540-548. doi:10.1890/060093
Munguia, P., and A. F. Ojanguren. 2015. Bridging the gap in marine and terrestrial studies. Ecosphere 6(2):25. http://dx.doi.org/10.1890/ES14-00231.1
Rode, J., Gomez-Baggethun, E., Krause, M., 2015. Motivation crowding by economic payments in conservation policy: a review of the empirical evidence. Ecol. Econ. 117, 270–282 (in this issue).
White, P. S. (2013), Derivation of the Extrinsic Values of Biological Diversity from Its Intrinsic Value and of Both from the First Principles of Evolution. Conservation Biology, 27: 1279-1285. doi:10.1111/cobi.12125
Zacharias, M. 2014. Marine Policy. London: Routledge.
By Dominique Kone, Masters Student in Marine Resource Management
Since the first official legal protections in 1911, the U.S. has made great strides in recovering sea otter populations. While much of this progress is due to increased emphasis on understanding sea otter behavior, biology, and ecology, there are also several policies that have been just as instrumental in making sea otter conservation efforts successful. Here, I provide a brief overview of the current legal and regulatory policies used to manage sea otters in the U.S. and explain why having a base understanding of these tools can help our lab as we look into the potential reintroduction of sea otters to the Oregon coast.
Sea otter with pup, Prince William Sound, Alaska. Source: Patrick J. Endres
When we talk about sea otter management in the U.S., the two most obvious laws that come to mind are the Marine Mammal Protection Act (MMPA) and the Endangered Species Act (ESA). In short, the MMPA seeks to prevent the take – including kill, harass, capture, or disturb – or importation of marine mammals and marine mammal products[1]. While the ESA seeks to protect and recover imperiled species – not just marine mammals – and the ecosystems which they depend upon[2]. Both laws are similar in the sense that their primary objectives are to protect and recover at-risk species. However, marine mammals will always be protected under the MMPA, but will only be protected under the ESA if the species is considered threatened or endangered.
On the federal level, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (the Service) is primarily responsible for managing sea otter populations. In the U.S., we manage sea otter populations as five distinct stocks, which differ in their population size and geographic distribution – located in California, Washington, and Alaska state waters (Fig. 1). Because sea otters are divided into these single stocks, management decisions – such as recovery targets or reintroductions – are made on a stock-by-stock basis and are dependent on the stock’s population status. Currently, two of these stocks are federally-listed as threatened under the ESA. Therefore, these two stocks are granted protection under both the ESA and MMPA, while the remaining three stocks are only protected by the MMPA (at the federal level; state management may also apply).
Figure 1. Distribution (approximations of population centers) of sea otter stocks in the U.S. (SW = Southwest Alaskan; SC = Southcentral Alaskan; SE = Southeast Alaskan; WA = Washington, SCA = Southern/Californian)
While the MMPA and ESA are important federal laws, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the important role that state laws and state agencies have in managing sea otters. According to the MMPA and ESA, if a state develops and maintains a conservation or recovery program with protections consistent with the standards and policies of the MMPA and/or ESA, then the Service may transfer management authority over to the state1,2. However, typically, the Service has opted to manage any stocks listed under the ESA, while states manage all other stocks not listed under the ESA.
Sea otter management in the states of Washington and California is a clear example of this dichotomy. The Washington sea otter stock is not listed under the ESA, and is therefore, managed by the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife (WDFW), which developed the stock’s recovery plan[3]. In contrast, sea otters along the California coast are listed as threatened under the ESA, and the Service primarily manages the stock’s recovery[4].
Interestingly, sea otter management in Alaska is an exception to this rule. The Southeast and Southcentral sea otter stocks are not listed under the ESA, yet are still managed by the Service. However, the state recognizes sea otters as a species of greatest conservation need in the state’s Wildlife Action Plan, which acts as a recommendation framework for the management and protection of important species and ecosystems[5]. Therefore, even though the state is not the primary management authority for sea otters by law, they still play a role in protecting Alaskan sea otter populations through this action plan.
Table 1. Federal and state listing status of all sea otter stocks within U.S. coastal waters.
States have also implemented their own laws for protecting at-risk species. For instance, while the Washington sea otter stock is not listed under the ESA, it is listed as endangered under Washington state law4. This example raises an important example demonstrating that even if a stock isn’t federally-listed, it may still be protected on the state level, and is always protected under the MMPA. Therefore, if the federal and state listing status do not match, which is the case for most sea otter stocks in the U.S. (Table 1.), the stock still receives management protection at some level.
So why does this matter?
Each of the previously mentioned laws are prohibitive in nature, where the objectives are to prevent and discourage activities which may harm the stock of interest. Yet, agencies may grant exceptions – in the form of permits – for activities, such as scientific research, translocations, commercial/recreational fisheries operations, etc. The permit approval process will oftentimes depend on: (1) the severity or likelihood of that action to harm the species, (2) the species’ federal and state listing status, and (3) the unique approval procedures enforced by the agency. Activities that are perceived to have a high likelihood of harming a species, or involve a species that’s listed under the ESA, will likely require a longer and more arduous approval process.
A sea otter release in Monterey Bay, California. Source: Monterey Bay Aquarium Newsroom.
Understanding these various approval processes is vitally important for our work on the potential reintroduction of sea otters to Oregon because such an effort will no doubt require many permits and a thoughtful permit approval process. Each agency may have their own set of permits, administrative procedures, and approval processes. Therefore, it behooves us to have a clear understanding of these various processes relative to the state, agency, or stock involved. If, hypothetically, a stock is determined as a suitable candidate for reintroduction into Oregon waters, having this understanding will allow us to determine where our research can best inform the effort, what types of information and data are needed to inform the process, and to which agency or stakeholders we must communicate our research.
By Alexa Kownacki, Ph.D. Student, OSU Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab
I love maps. I love charts. As a random bit of trivia, there is a difference between a map and a chart. A map is a visual representation of land that may include details like topology, whereas a chart refers to nautical information such as water depth, shoreline, tides, and obstructions.
Map of San Diego, CA, USA. (Source: San Diego Metropolitan Transit System)Chart of San Diego, CA, USA. (Source: NOAA)
I have an intense affinity for visually displaying information. As a child, my dad traveled constantly, from Barrow, Alaska to Istanbul, Turkey. Immediately upon his return, I would grab our standing globe from the dining room and our stack of atlases from the coffee table. I would sit at the kitchen table, enthralled at the stories of his travels. Yet, a story was only great when I could picture it for myself. (I should remind you, this was the early 1990s, GoogleMaps wasn’t a thing.) Our kitchen table transformed into a scene from Master and Commander—except, instead of nautical charts and compasses, we had an atlas the size of an overgrown toddler and salt and pepper shakers to pinpoint locations. I now had the world at my fingertips. My dad would show me the paths he took from our home to his various destinations and tell me about the topography, the demographics, the population, the terrain type—all attribute features that could be included in common-day geographic information systems (GIS).
Uncle Brian showing Alexa where they were on a map of Maui, Hawaii, USA. (Photo: Susan K. circa 1995)
As I got older, the kitchen table slowly began to resemble what I imagine the set from Master and Commander actually looked like; nautical charts, tide tables, and wind predictions were piled high and the salt and pepper shakers were replaced with pencil marks indicating potential routes for us to travel via sailboat. The two of us were in our element. Surrounded by visual and graphical representations of geographic and spatial information: maps. To put my map-attraction this in even more context, this is a scientist who grew up playing “Take-Off”, a board game that was “designed to teach geography” and involved flying your fleet of planes across a Mercator projection-style mapboard. Now, it’s no wonder that I’m a graduate student in a lab that focuses on the geospatial aspects of ecology.
A precocious 3-year-old Alexa, sitting with the airplane pilot asking him a long list of travel-related questions (and taking his captain’s hat). Photo: Susan K.
So why and how did geospatial ecology became a field—and a predominant one at that? It wasn’t that one day a lightbulb went off and a statistician decided to draw out the results. It was a progression, built upon for thousands of years. There are maps dating back to 2300 B.C. on Babylonian clay tablets (The British Museum), and yet, some of the maps we make today require highly sophisticated technology. Geospatial analysis is dynamic. It’s evolving. Today I’m using ArcGIS software to interpolate mass amounts of publicly-available sea surface temperature satellite data from 1981-2015, which I will overlay with a layer of bottlenose dolphin sightings during the same time period for comparison. Tomorrow, there might be a new version of software that allows me to animate these data. Heck, it might already exist and I’m not aware of it. This growth is the beauty of this field. Geospatial ecology is made for us cartophiles (map-lovers) who study the interdependency of biological systems where location and distance between things matters.
Alexa’s grandmother showing Alexa (a very young cartographer) how to color in the lines. Source: Susan K. circa 1994
In a broader context, geospatial ecology communicates our science to all of you. If I posted a bunch of statistical outputs in text or even table form, your eyes might glaze over…and so might mine. But, if I displayed that same underlying data and results on a beautiful map with color-coded symbology, a legend, a compass rose, and a scale bar, you might have this great “ah-ha!” moment. That is my goal. That is what geospatial ecology is to me. It’s a way to SHOW my science, rather than TELL it.
Would you like to see this over and over again…?
A VERY small glimpse into the enormous amount of data that went into this map. This screenshot gave me one point of temperature data for a single location for a single day…Source: Alexa K.
Or see this once…?
Map made in ArcGIS of Coastal common bottlenose dolphin sightings between 1981-1989 with a layer of average sea surface temperatures interpolated across those same years. A picture really is worth a thousand words…or at least a thousand data points…Source: Alexa K.
For many, maps are visually easy to interpret, allowing quick message communication. Yet, there are many different learning styles. From my personal story, I think it’s relatively obvious that I’m, at least partially, a visual learner. When I was in primary school, I would read the directions thoroughly, but only truly absorb the material once the teacher showed me an example. Set up an experiment? Sure, I’ll read the lab report, but I’m going to refer to the diagrams of the set-up constantly. To this day, I always ask for an example. Teach me a new game? Let’s play the first round and then I’ll pick it up. It’s how I learned to sail. My dad described every part of the sailboat in detail and all I heard was words. Then, my dad showed me how to sail, and it came naturally. It’s only as an adult that I know what “that blue line thingy” is called. Geospatial ecology is how I SEE my research. It makes sense to me. And, hopefully, it makes sense to some of you!
Alexa’s dad teaching her how to sail. (Source: Susan K. circa 2000)Alexa’s first solo sailboat race in Coronado, San Diego, CA. Notice: Alexa’s dad pushing the bow off the dock and the look on Alexa’s face. (Source: Susan K. circa 2000)Alexa mapping data using ArcGIS in the Oregon State University Library. (Source: Alexa K circa a few minutes prior to posting).
I strongly believe a meaningful career allows you to highlight your passions and personal strengths. For me, that means photography, all things nautical, the great outdoors, wildlife conservation, and maps/charts. If I converted that into an equation, I think this is a likely result:
This lab was my solution all along. As part of my research on common bottlenose dolphins, I work on a small inflatable boat off the coast of California (nautical ✅, outdoors ✅), photograph their dorsal fin (photography ✅), and communicate my data using informative maps that will hopefully bring positive change to the marine environment (maps/charts ✅, wildlife conservation✅). Geospatial ecology allows me to participate in research that I deeply enjoy and hopefully, will make the world a little bit of a better place. Oh, and make maps.
Alexa in the field, putting all those years of sailing and chart-reading to use! (Source: Leila L.)
Living the dream as a marine mammal observer onboard the R/V Bell Shimada Photo credit: Dave Jacobsen
I first learned that “Marine Mammal Observer” was a legitimate career field during the summer after my junior year at the University of Washington. I had the good fortune to volunteer for the BASIS fisheries-oceanography survey onboard the R/V Oscar Dyson where I met two wonderful bird observers who taught me how to identify various pelagic bird species and clued me in to just how diverse the marine science job market can be. After the cruise, younger Florence went off with an expanded world view and a small dream that maybe someday she could go out to sea and survey for marine mammals on a regular basis (and get paid for it?!). Eight years later, I am happy to report that I have just spent the last week as the marine mammal observer on the North California Current Survey on the Dyson’s sister ship, the R/V Bell M. Shimada. While we may not have seen as many marine mammals as I would have liked, the experience has still been everything younger Florence hoped it would be.
Finally leaving port a few days behind schedule due to stormy weather! photo credit: Florence Sullivan
If you’ve ever wondered why the scientists in your life may refer to summer as “field work season”, it’s because attempting to do research outside in the winter is an exercise in frustration, troubleshooting, and flexibility. Case in point; this cruise was supposed to sail away from port on the 24th of February, but did not end up leaving until the 27th due to bad weather. This weather delay meant that we had to cut some oceanographic stations we would like to have sampled, and even when we made it out of the harbor, the rough weather made it impossible to sample some of the stations we still had left on our map. That being said, we still got a lot of good work done!
The original station map. The warm colors are the west coast of the US, the cold colors are the ocean, and the black dots are planned survey stations
The oceanographers were able to conduct CTD casts at most planned stations, as well as sample the water column with a vertical zooplankton net, a HAB net (for looking for the organisms that cause Harmful Algal Blooms), and a Bongo Net (a net that specializes in getting horizontal samples of the water column). When it wasn’t too windy, they were also able to sample with the Manta net (a net specialized for surface sampling – it looks like a manta ray’s mouth) and at certain near-shore stations they did manage to get some bottom beam trawls in to look at the benthic community of fishes and invertebrates. All this was done while dodging multitudes of crab pots and storm fronts. The NOAA corps officers who drive the boat, and the deck crew who handle all the equipment deployments and retrievals really did their utmost to make sure we were able to work.
Stormy seas make for difficult sampling conditions! photo credit: Florence Sullivan
For my part, I spent the hours between stations searching the wind-tossed waves for any sign of marine mammals. Over the course of the week, I saw a few Northern fur seals, half a dozen gray whales, and a couple of unidentified large cetaceans. When you think about the productivity of the North Pacific Ecosystem this may not seem like very much. But remember, it is late winter, and I do not have x-ray vision to see through the waves. It is likely that I missed a number of animals simply because the swell was too large, and when we calculate our “detection probability” these weather factors will be taken into account. In addition, many of our local marine mammals are migrators who might be in warmer climates, or are off chasing different food sources at the moment. In ecology, when you want to know how a population of animals is distributed across a land- or sea-scape, it is just as important to understand where the animals are NOT as where they ARE. So all of this “empty” water was very important to survey simply because it helps us refine our understanding of where animals don’t want to be. When we know where animals AREN’T we can ask better questions about why they occur where they ARE.
Black Footed Albatross soars near the boat. Photo credit: Florence Sullivan
Notable species of the week aside from the marine mammals include Laysan and Black Footed Albatrosses, a host of Vellella vellella (sailor by the wind hydroid colonies) and the perennial favorite of oceanographers; the shrinking Styrofoam cup. (See pictures)
We sent these styrofoam cups down to 1800 meters depth. The pressure at those depths causes all the air to escape from the styrofoam, and it shrinks! This is a favorite activity of oceanographers to demonstrate the effects on increased pressure!
These sorts of interdisciplinary cruises are quite fun and informative to participate in because we can build a better picture of the ecosystem as a whole when we use a multitude of methods to explore it. This strength of cooperation makes me proud to add my little piece to the puzzle. As I move forward in life, whether I get to be the marine mammal observer, the oceanographer, or perhaps an educator, I will always be glad to contribute to collaborative research.
Last week, I attended the Seattle Garden Show with my mom and a friend of hers. We particularly enjoyed the West Seattle Nursery’s entry that was intended to reflect on the idea that “Nothing Lasts, Nothing is Perfect, and Nothing is Finished.” My mom and her friend proceeded to articulate a feeling I think many of us have struggled with. Not quite “imposter syndrome” because the feeling is not limited to your job, it pervades the whole human experience. Rather, we talked about the idea that as a child, you have an impression that adults have everything figured out in life, but as you grow older, you realize that everyone is just muddling along as best they can. The most important take-away for me in listening to two late-middle-age women have this conversation was: the feeling of being unprepared never goes away, but you have to tackle life head on anyways.
When I finally finished my master’s degree, a similar feeling of ‘what do I do now?!’ caught me by surprise. I was fully cognizant of all the hard work I had done, but my mentally and emotionally exhausted brain could no longer compute how this accomplishment translated to real world skills. I could no longer see the whole of my work, I could only stress out about the bits that I felt were weak or could have been done better. I was lost in that insidious trap of thinking that because I felt like I still had so much to learn, that my peers had their lives and their research figured out so much more effectively than my own. Time and distance, counseling, and listening to many conversations like my mom’s, helped me to break away from this trap and remember that “Nothing Lasts [Grad school took 3 years], Nothing is Perfect [My work does not need to be perfect in order to matter], and Nothing is Finished [I will never be done learning]”.
Before I moved away from the lab, I was asked to compile my institutional knowledge into a “How to” guide for new GEMM Lab members. It really does cover a wide range of topics. There are tips about computer log-ons, where to find certain administrative paperwork and when to fill it out, how to make a post on this blog, protocols for photo-ID work and other routine lab tasks, and even some favorite recipes for lab meetings. Setting this guide up was another helpful step on my journey to remember how much I have learned in the last 3 years, and how much I am capable of contributing to a group.
Team Ro-buff-stus in August 2017.Team Ro-buff-stus in 2016Our team name is derived from the scientific name of the gray whale: E. robustus, and the colorful “buff” scarves you can see us wearing on most days. 2015
I’m now actively job hunting, and while this has been stressful, it has also been strangely encouraging as I reframe the variety of skills I picked up in grad school and realize just how much is hidden in that new line on my resume. There are so many common application bullet points that I can answer with confidence. Yes! I have teaching and leadership experience because I trained and supervised 3 generations of interns in the gray whale foraging ecology project. Yes! I have data processing and analysis experience through my classwork and my successfully defended thesis. Yes! I have scientific writing experience – one of my thesis chapters has been accepted for publication in theJournal of Wildlife Management. With every Yes! my confidence grows, and I get more excited to start the newest chapter in my life. I recognize that many of my applications will be rejected, because there are many other qualified applicants out there, but I will keep trying, because Nothing lasts [The job search is temporary], Nothing is Perfect [I do not need to be perfect to get the job], and Nothing is Finished [There will always be room for me to grow].
Moving Day! The GEMM Lab helps Kelly and Florence pack their house.
I am incredibly thankful to everyone who supported my journey. My advisor Leigh, has been a fabulous mentor in the best sense of the word from day one. My lab mates Amanda, Rachael, Dawn, Solene, Leila, Erin, Alexa, and Dom have been excellent confidantes, cheerleaders, and sources of inspiration. My husband, Kelly made sure that I always had a cup of tea, a warm meal, and a hug to keep me going. My interns, Sarah, Cricket, Justin, Kelli, Catherine, Cathryn, Maggie, Nathan and Quince made my field work both possible and enjoyable. My family and friends at home kept me grounded even at a distance, and my Corvallis contra dancing community reminds me to dance my cares away, because nothing lasts, nothing is perfect, and nothing is finished.
By Dominique Kone, Masters Student in Marine Resource Management
A couple of months ago, I wrote a blog introducing our new project, and my thesis, on the potential to reintroduce sea otters to the Oregon coast. In that blog, I expressed that in order to develop a successful reintroduction plan, scientists and managers need to have a sound understanding of sea otter ecology and the current state of Oregon’s coastal ecosystems. As a graduate student conducting a research-based thesis in a management program, I’m constantly fretting over the applicability of my research to inform decision-making processes. However, in the course of conducting my research, I sometimes forget just how COOL sea otters are. Therefore, in this blog, I wanted to take the opportunity to nerd out and provide you with my top five favorite facts about these otterly adorable creatures.
Photo Credit: Point Lobos Foundation
Without further ado, here are my top five favorite facts about sea otters:
Sea otters eat a lot. Previous studies show that an individual sea otter eats up to 30% of its own body weight in food each day[1][2]. With such high caloric demands, sea otters spend a great deal of their time foraging the seafloor for a variety of prey species, and have been shown to decrease prey densities in their local habitat significantly. Sea otters are famously known for their taste for sea urchins. Yet, these voracious predators also consume clams, sea stars, crabs, and a variety of other small invertebrate species[3][4].
Photo Credit: Katherine Johns via www.listal.com
Individuals are specialists, but can change their diet. Sea otters typically show individual foraging specialization – which means an individual predominantly eats a select few species of prey. However, this doesn’t mean an otter can’t switch or consume other types of prey as needed. In fact, while individuals tend to be specialists, on a population or species level, sea otters are actually generalist predators[5][6]. Past studies that looked at the foraging habits of expanding sea otter populations show that as populations expand into unoccupied territory, they typically eat a limited number of prey. But as populations grow and become more established, the otters will start to diversify their diet, suggesting intra-specific competition[3][7].
Sea otters exert a strong top-down force. Top-down forcing is one of the most important concepts we must acknowledge when discussing sea otter ecology. With top-down forcing, consumers at the top of the food chain depress the trophic level on which they feed, and this feeding indirectly increases the abundance of the next lower trophic level, resulting in a cascading effect[8]. The archetype example of this phenomenon is the relationship between sea otters, sea urchins, and kelp forests. This relationship goes as follows: sea otters consume sea urchin, and sea urchins graze on kelp. Therefore, sea otters reduce sea urchin densities by direct predation, thereby mediating grazing pressure on kelp. This indirect effect allows kelp to grow more abundantly, which is why we often see relatively productive kelp forests when sea otters are present[9]. This top-down forcing also has important implications for the whole ecosystem, as I’ll explain in my next fact.
Pictured: sea urchin dominated seascape in habitat without sea otters. Photo Credit: BISHOPAPPS via Ohio State University.
Sea otters help restore ecosystems, and associated ecosystem services. In kelp habitat where sea otters have been removed, we often see high densities of sea urchins and low biomasses of kelp. In this case, sea urchins have no natural predators to keep their populations in check and therefore completely decimate kelp forests. However, what we’ve learned is that when sea otters “reclaim” previously occupied habitats or expand into unoccupied territory, they can have remarkable restorative effects because their predation on sea urchins allows for the regrowth of kelp forest[10]. Additionally, with the restoration of key ecosystems like kelp forests, we can see a variety of other indirect benefits – such as increased biodiversity, refuge for fish nurseries and commercially-important species, and carbon sequestration[11][12][13]. The structure of nearshore ecosystems and communities change drastically with the addition or removal of sea otters, which is why they’re often referred to as keystone species.
Photo Credit: University of California, Santa Barbara.
Sea otters are most often associated with coastal kelp forests, but they can also exist in other types of habitats and ecosystems. In addition to kelp dominated ecosystems, sea otters are known to use estuaries and bays, seagrass beds, and swim over a range of bottom substrates[14][15]. As evidenced by previous studies, sea otters exert similar top-down forces in non-kelp ecosystems, as they do within kelp forests. One study found that sea otters also had restorative effects on seagrass beds within estuaries, where they consumed different types of prey (i.e., crabs instead of urchins), demonstrating that sea otters play a significant keystone role in seagrass habitats as well [12]. Findings such as these are vitally important to understanding (1) where sea otters are capable of living relative to habitat characteristics, and (2) how recovering or expanding sea otter populations may impact ecosystems and habitats in which they don’t currently exist, such as the Oregon coast.
Pictured: sea otter swimming through eel grass at Elkhorn Slough, California. Photo Credit: Kip Evans Photography.
Well, there you have it – my top five favorite facts about sea otters. This list is by no means exhaustive of all there is to know about sea otter ecology, and isn’t enough information to develop an informative reintroduction plan. However, a successful reintroduction plan will rely heavily on these underlying ecological characteristics of sea otters, in addition to the current state of Oregon’s nearshore ecosystems. As someone who constantly focuses on the relationship between scientific research and management and conservation, it’s nice every now and then to take a step back and just simply appreciate sea otters for being, well, sea otters.
References:
[1] Costa, D. P. 1978. The ecological energetics, water, and electrolyte balance of the California sea otter (Enhydra lutris). Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Santa Cruz.
[2] Reidman, M. L. and J. A. Estes. 1990. The sea otter (Enhydra lutris): behavior, ecology, and natural history. United States Department of the Interior, Fish and Wildlife Service, Biological Report. 90: 1-126.
[3] Laidre, K.L. and R. J. Jameson. 2006. Foraging patterns and prey selection in an increasing and expanding sea otter population. Journal of Mammology. 87(4): 799-807.
[4] Estes, J. A., Jameson, R.J., and B. R. Rhode. 1982. Activity and prey election in the sea otter: influence of population status on community structure. The American Naturalist. 120(2): 242-258.
[5] Tinker, M. T., Costa, D. P., Estes, J. A., and N. Wieringa. 2007. Individual dietary specialization and dive behavior in the California sea otter: using archival time-depth data to detect alternative foraging strategies. Deep-Sea Research Part II. (54):330-342.
[6] Newsome et al. 2009. Using stable isotopes to investigate individual diet specialization in California sea otters (Enhydra lutris nereis). Ecology. 90(4): 961-974.
[7] Ostfeld, R. S. 1982. Foraging strategies and prey switching in the California sea otter. Oecologia. 53(2): 170-178.
[8] Paine, R. T. 1980. Food webs: linkage, interaction strength and community infrastructure. The Journal of Animal Ecology. 49(3): 666-685.
[9] Estes, J. A. and J.F. Palmisano. 1974. Sea otters: their role in structuring nearshore communities. Science. 185(4156): 1058-1060.
[10] Estes, J. A., and D. O. Duggins. 1995. Sea otters and kelp forests in Alaska: generality and variation in a community ecological paradigm. Ecological Monographs. 65(1): 75-100.
[11] Wilmers, C. C., Estes, J. A., Edwards, M., Laidre, K. L., and B. Konar. 2012. Do trophic cascades affect the storage and flux of atmospheric carbon? An analysis of sea otters and kelp forests. Frontiers in Ecology and the Environment. 10(8): 409-415.
[12] Hughes et al. 2014. Recovery of a top predator mediate negative eutrophic effects on seagrass. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. 110(38): 15313-15318.
[13] Lee, L.C., Watson, J. C., Trebilco, R., and A. K. Salomon. Indirect effects and prey behavior mediate interactions between an endangered prey and recovering predator. Ecosphere. 7(12).
[14] Laidre, K. L., Jameson, R. J., Gurarie, E., Jeffries, S. J., and H. Allen. 2009. Spatial habitat use patterns of sea otters in coastal Washington. Journal of Mammalogy. 90(4): 906-917.
[15] Lafferty, K. D., and M. T. Tinker. 2014. Sea otters are recolonizing southern California in fits and starts. Ecosphere. 5(5).
By Alexa Kownacki, Ph.D. Student, OSU Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, Geospatial Ecology of Marine Megafauna Lab
The first lecture slide. Source: Lecture1_Population Dynamics_Lou Botsford
This was the very first lecture slide in my population dynamics course at UC Davis. Population dynamics was infamous in our department for being an ultimate rite of passage due to its notoriously challenging curriculum. So, when Professor Lou Botsford pointed to his slide, all 120 of us Wildlife, Fish, and Conservation Biology majors, didn’t know how to react. Finally, he announced, “This [pointing to the slide] is all of you”. The class laughed. Lou smirked. Lou knew.
Lou knew that there is more truth to this meme than words could express. I can’t tell you how many times friends and acquaintances have asked me if I was going to be a park ranger. Incredibly, not all—or even most—wildlife biologists are park rangers. I’m sure that at one point, my parents had hoped I’d be holding a tiger cub as part of a conservation project—that has never happened. Society may think that all wildlife biologists want to walk in the footsteps of the famous Steven Irwin and say thinks like “Crikey!”—but I can’t remember the last time I uttered that exclamation with the exception of doing a Steve Irwin impression. Hollywood may think we hug trees—and, don’t get me wrong, I love a good tie-dyed shirt—but most of us believe in the principles of conservation and wise-use A.K.A. we know that some trees must be cut down to support our needs. Helicoptering into a remote location to dart and take samples from wild bear populations…HA. Good one. I tell myself this is what I do sometimes, and then the chopper crashes and I wake up from my dream. But, actually, a scientist staring at a computer with stacks of papers spread across every surface, is me and almost every wildlife biologist that I know.
The “dry lab” on the R/V Nathaniel B. Palmer en route to Antarctica. This room full of technology is where the majority of the science takes place. Drake Passage, International Waters in August 2015. Source: Alexa Kownacki
There is an illusion that wildlife biologists are constantly in the field doing all the cool, science-y, outdoors-y things while being followed by a National Geographic photojournalist. Well, let me break it to you, we’re not. Yes, we do have some incredible opportunities. For example, I happen to know that one lab member (eh-hem, Todd), has gotten up close and personal with wild polar bear cubs in the Arctic, and that all of us have taken part in some work that is worthy of a cover image on NatGeo. We love that stuff. For many of us, it’s those few, memorable moments when we are out in the field, wearing pants that we haven’t washed in days, and we finally see our study species AND gather the necessary data, that the stars align. Those are the shining lights in a dark sea of papers, grant-writing, teaching, data management, data analysis, and coding. I’m not saying that we don’t find our desk work enjoyable; we jump for joy when our R script finally runs and we do a little dance when our paper is accepted and we definitely shed a tear of relief when funding comes through (or maybe that’s just me).
A picturesque moment of being a wildlife biologist: Alexa and her coworker, Jim, surveying migrating gray whales. Piedras Blancas Light Station, San Simeon, CA in May 2017. Source: Alexa Kownacki.
What I’m trying to get at is that we accepted our fates as the “scientists in front of computers surrounded by papers” long ago and we embrace it. It’s been almost five years since I was a senior in undergrad and saw this meme for the first time. Five years ago, I wanted to be that scientist surrounded by papers, because I knew that’s where the difference is made. Most people have heard the quote by Mahatma Gandhi, “Be the change that you wish to see in the world.” In my mind, it is that scientist combing through relevant, peer-reviewed scientific papers while writing a compelling and well-researched article, that has the potential to make positive changes. For me, that scientist at the desk is being the change that he/she wish to see in the world.
Scientists aboard the R/V Nathaniel B. Palmer using the time in between net tows to draft papers and analyze data…note the facial expressions. Antarctic Peninsula in August 2015. Source: Alexa Kownacki.
One of my favorite people to colloquially reference in the wildlife biology field is Milton Love, a research biologist at the University of California Santa Barbara, because he tells it how it is. In his oh-so-true-it-hurts website, he has a page titled, “So You Want To Be A Marine Biologist?” that highlights what he refers to as, “Three really, really bad reasons to want to be a marine biologist” and “Two really, really good reasons to want to be a marine biologist”. I HIGHLY suggest you read them verbatim on his site, whether you think you want to be a marine biologist or not because they’re downright hilarious. However, I will paraphrase if you just can’t be bothered to open up a new tab and go down a laugh-filled wormhole.
Really, Really Bad Reasons to Want to be a Marine Biologist:
To talk to dolphins. Hint: They don’t want to talk to you…and you probably like your face.
You like Jacques Cousteau. Hint: I like cheese…doesn’t mean I want to be cheese.
Hint: Lack thereof.
Really, Really Good Reasons to Want to be a Marine Biologist:
Work attire/attitude. Hint: Dress for the job you want finally translates to board shorts and tank tops.
You like it. *BINGO*
Alexa with colleagues showing the “cool” part of the job is working the zooplankton net tows. This DOES have required attire: steel-toed boots, hard hat, and float coat. R/V Nathaniel B. Palmer, Antarctic Peninsula in August 2015. Source: Alexa Kownacki.
In summary, as wildlife or marine biologists we’ve taken a vow of poverty, and in doing so, we’ve committed ourselves to fulfilling lives with incredible experiences and being the change we wish to see in the world. To those of you who want to pursue a career in wildlife or marine biology—even after reading this—then do it. And to those who don’t, hopefully you have a better understanding of why wearing jeans is our version of “business formal”.
A fieldwork version of a lab meeting with Leigh Torres, Tom Calvanese (Field Station Manager), Florence Sullivan, and Leila Lemos. Port Orford, OR in August 2017. Source: Alexa Kownacki.
A blue whale surfaces in front of a floating production storage and offloading (FPSO) vessel servicing the oil rigs in the South Taranaki Bight. Photo by Dawn Barlow. 
Dawn Barlow and Dr. Leigh Torres aboard the R/V Star Keys during the 2017 blue whale field season in New Zealand. Photo by Todd Chandler.
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