Flutterby February

February always seems to flutter by on frantic wings. Perhaps that has something to do with the number of birthdays that fall in this month. This year, a sister arrived at the local (volunteer run, interesting factoid!) train station, and we indulged in coastal delights. She didn't seem to enjoy de-bearding the mussels, but happily slurped the steamed results of her labor down with gusto. Am I overselling it? We also dined on salmon and my version of Black Forest Cake for an early birthday dinner - I ended up working the day of so it was nice to celebrate a little early. 

In a fit of frivolous spending, Brandon, having laid eyes on remarkably low priced king crab during a Costco run, decided we were going to dine like kings (the pun is 100% unintentional) for Valentines Eve. And boy did we. In retrospect I agree with his assertion that 'you haven't had crab until you've had king crab'...

The following weekend we happily embarked on an exploratory venture to see the Mima Mounds, which it turns out are rather boring to examine in the winter, although there was neat lichen. It will be interesting in the spring though, when prairie flowers adorn the little understood geologic features. 

 Onward we went to explore some state land, and hike. It was a misguided venture, but from the outset, how were we to know? (The bullet-hole riddled "No Shooting Next Five Miles" sign maybe ought to have given us some foresight?)
We did get to see some cool beaver dams, and although we never quite figured out which trail we were on, we were definitely on an established trail. This is worth noting because approximately five minutes after capturing a grinning Otter traversing an old clear-cut, bullets whistled down into the trail system. And when I say whistled - its more like we heard the branches cracking and snapping as they were hit. I've rewritten this story in my head so many times that I thought some of the anger would dissipate. Not so, I'm still furious. Brandon yelled, and we picked up pace. There were blissfully no more shots for the next 3/4 mile, but as we neared the trailhead another shot cracked out so close we could again hear the branches snapping; we hit the ground, Brandon bellowed ferociously and... another shot came through. At which point we skedaddled to the car, and bailed. Much though I wish to believe otherwise, I can only conclude that some jackass thought it would be funny to SHOOT AT TWO HUMAN BEINGS, just for the fun of it. Well that's downright evil, and the nasty vindictive vicious part of me hopes that sub par human being tripped and shot themself in the leg.
It's experiences like that that turn typically rational people against the gun owning population. Most days I truly don't care whether you own a gun, as long as you use it in the appropriate time and place. But that day I wanted nothing more that to ban gun ownership outright, collect every gun ever created, and melt it into a pile of smoldering ore.
End Rant.
The next weekend we went to a lichen work shop which was very interesting, even if I did not retain much of the information. We wandered around a beach park and had our faith in humanity restored a bit.
These alders slumped down off the bluff, but continued on growing as though nothing had changed.

I have spent some time recently poking around at the local wildlife reserve (Nisqually) on weekend mornings, which has been pleasant. You can probably tell from some of these photos just how decrepit my sad old camera is getting.

 Here is a land of bright yet foggy mornings and many many ducks.

 At low tide you can see all the nice mud...

 And evident of worms, mollusks, crustaceans etc at work. These are from worms working around in the muck.

 Quite a nice boardwalk to wander along and ponder life

Another foggy sunny day

All those dots are hundreds of geese- quite a sound to experience

In addition to hundreds of geese, ducks abounded

For whatever reason I can't get some of the pictures to rotate properly, so you shall have to make do... Indian plum knows no limits - the shrub that always confuses me by bursting into bloom in February when everything else remains dormant. Although I have already seen colts foot blooming and red currant in full colored flower bud; this year will be even earlier than last. 

 Raccoon prints in the frost, indicating a recent visit.

It was surreal and beautiful and blinding

I have come to enjoy the fearless and somewhat comical displays of territoriality one can observe in our good old robins. 

Whoever can identify this skeleton for me gets a gold star! Spring is trying to come earlier this year - I have seen & heard multiple hummingbirds about, plants budding and blooming - and balmy days approaching 60 degrees. While I lift my face to that sun, I silently cringe at the thought of what a hard freeze might bring, the lack of snow in our mountains and the fact that February is often called  "Fake out February"  in the PNW for its brief and welcome reprieve from the dour rain. And I remember that humans are a tremendously resilient and adaptive species, and that whatever may come, we'll probably do just fine.
Have a safe and happy weekend.

What's the Otter up to?

“What are you doing out here?”

“We’re looking for surf smelt eggs, they’re a type of forage fish that salmon eat. They lay their eggs in intertidal zones, and the eggs stick to beach material like sand. ”

Have you found any salmon? How are the salmon?

Source

“…. We’re looking for surf smelt eggs. They are a kind of fish that salmon eat while growing in estuaries…

Thus I imagine the Otter’s interactions with the public (quite possibly because that’s how he describes them to me, in quiet exasperation).  You see, he is on a crew that spends the vast majority of its time looking for surf smelt eggs. Which are clear, and about the size of a pinhead. 

Those crazy biologists and their fish!

If that’s what you are thinking, it’s a sadly common attitude. I however chose to believe that you (especially because so very many of you are much more in tune with the natural world than a random sampling of Americans) are wondering why forage fish are so important, and why I am rantrambling about them.

Because of where my life has taken me, we will first and foremost look at these creatures through a salmon-centric lens (Surprise! Not.) And to do that we need a quick life cycle recap.

It goes like this: salmon are placed in a gravel nest by their poor mothers (I have yet to encounter an animal mother I pity more than a female salmon, we can have a contest about that later) in egg stage. They incubate and develop, the rate of which depends on many factors especially water temperature. They hatch, become alevin, finish up their yummy yolk sac, and emerge from the gravel as fry. Depending on the species, they will spend about zero months to 2 years in the fry stage eating insects and zooplankton. And here is where the cycle becomes relevant to forage fish: when salmon are in the smolt stage, they live in estuaries, eating, growing bigger, adjusting to saltwater, and trying to avoid becoming prey to the multitudinous hordes of organisms that feast on them. As you can imagine the faster they can grow, the very much better they will be at avoiding predators or perhaps escaping if they should encounter the voracious snapping beak of a duck or heron. And thus, forage fish are important.

Did I say important? I meant to say forage fish are CRITICAL.  Forage fish is a rather large lumping of animals called the “fuel of the marine food web.” And the Otter happens to focus on surf smelt (on this diagram they count as “small fish”).

Source

Now let’s take off our salmon lenses, and look at the rest of the ecosystem. As we know from my previous endeavor to spread the salmon word, salmon are a keystone species in a complex intertwined ecosystem. While too abundant to be considered keystone species (the definition of a keystone species being that the species in question has an enormous impact on the ecosystem disproportionate to their relative – read: low – number) forage fish are tied to every carnivorous/omnivorous critter roaming the shores. Including humans, who have fished for herring and smelt rather a lot.

And honestly, before Brandon took this position I knew very little about any kind of forage fish. I knew a little about herring, which lay their eggs on eelgrass or kelp, and whose eggs were harvested by local tribes who put conifer branches in eelgrass beds, tricking the fish into laying eggs on the branches. 

So if I, a world renowned (sometimes it’s fun to exaggerate) know-it-all knew nothing, what are the odds that the non-scientifically inclined population has even an inkling how precious these little fish are? Low, odds are low. So it is another topic for community education - tada! And a reminder to me that there is a seemingly infinite quantity of knowledge out there to consume.

One of the things that is interesting about the Otter's work is that so few people understand exactly what he is doing, and why. It took me a while to figure it out, even working in a field directly effected by the plight of forage fish. I say plight because... like salmon they have increasingly lost suitable spawning habitat in the Sound. The developments that impact them are things like seawalls, shoreline armoring, bulkheads, over-water structures like docks, piers... which over time can starve the beach of sandy substrate necessary for fish spawning like smelt and sand lance, and shade out vegetation like eelgrass used by herring. This is without considering the pollution that is currently running into the Sound from stormwater drains... (I may have posted that before, but its worth sharing again) Take into account also that scientists are still figuring these fish out. They historically were incredibly abundant, so not a whole lot of time was invested in researching these small but might species. And so now it seems like scrambling at the edge of a precipice, trying to figure out how to find stability before the ground gives way beneath your feet. That's my take at least. 

If you are curious and have time to spare, you can find some more information here, and here, and probably lots of other places if you look.

Source

It is a fair assessment that Brandon’s job is at times way more exciting than mine. He gets stung by jellyfish, sees orcas, otters, foxes, all kinds of bizarre sea-life including nudibranchs (sea slugs, much more interesting looking than the majority of their terrestrial kin), strains his eyes looking for eggs that look approximately like tiny bits of quartz, was once rewarded by finding hatched out smelt in his petri dish, travels to lend a hand on other projects… If I sound jealous, it’s because I am a little bit. But I console myself on rainy days, because I am not the one out on a tiny boat, or sieving endless samples, or eyes pressed against a microscope… It is a balance. As I say to students I present to, thank you for learning today!

Now if you'll kindly excuse me, I have some salmon puppets to mend. And I'm not joking. Tootles!