NOAA Teacher at Sea Andrea Schmuttermair
Soon to be Aboard NOAA Ship Oscar Dyson
July 6 – 24, 2015
Mission: Walleye Pollock Survey Geographical area of cruise: Kodiak, AK Date: June 24, 2015
Ms. Schmuttermair on the Oregon II, 2012
Wanderlust (n): a strong desire or urge to wander or travel and explore the world.
As I sit writing this initial blog post on the beach here in San Diego, California, I find myself reminiscent of the summer of 2012, the “summer of ships”, as I referred to it. In June of 2012, I was preparing for adventures of a lifetime, for I would be on board not one but two ships throughout that summer. The first, the mighty Oregon II, one of NOAA’s fishery vessels, conducting research in the Gulf of Mexico. The second, a luxurious cruise ship, sailing the waters of Alaska. Little did I know I would be sitting here, 3 years later, eagerly anticipating my voyage back to Alaska yet again on board one of NOAA’s fishery vessels, again as a Teacher at Sea.
Ms. Schmuttermair and Wesson
My name is Andrea Schmuttermair, and I am currently an elementary teacher at the Colorado STEM Academy just north of Denver, Colorado. I just finished my 11th year teaching, and I have had the privilege to teach some amazing students in Germany, California, and Colorado. I have a lot of fun with my students (like 3D printing sharks and coding our own reaction timer), and strive to give them as many engaging science experiences as I can. Outside of the classroom, you can find me creating opportunities for new adventures and experiences through travel and the outdoors. I love to hike and backpack the trails in Colorado with my faithful companion, Wesson. Traveling to new, uncharted territory is also a frequent occurrence.
I first learned about the Teacher at Sea program back in 2008, and it immediately went on my bucket list. After a couple years of applying, I was accepted as a TAS in 2012 and helped scientists conduct the SEAMAP Summer Groundfish Survey in the Gulf of Mexico. To say I enjoyed it would be an understatement. It was by far one of the best experiences I have had, so much so, that when given the option to reapply, I knew I just had to. I am thrilled to be heading back to Alaska, this time wearing a different hat, to help scientists conduct the walleye pollock survey. The Walleye pollock is a key species in one of the largest fishing industries in the world. I am looking forward to helping scientists with this important research.
Animal adaptations presentation
3D printing sea creatures
Ms. Schmuttermair, Dr. Mikki, Dr. Caine, Cyndi on presentation day
The Spike crabs
My students spent the last several months of school immersed in the fascinating world of the ocean. Being in a landlocked state, the ocean was still relatively undiscovered for them, yet it drew my students in with a desire and passion I couldn’t feed quick enough. From engaging in problem/project based learning to studying ocean animals and their adaptations to skyping with our favorite shark scientist, Dr. Mikki, to creating 3D printed models of new ocean discoveries, I knew my students had found a niche and a passion for learning. They weren’t done yet though. After some brainstorming, we decided to spend the last month of school on an in-depth project learning about and building our very own underwater ROVs. Inspired by NOAA and James Cameron’s recent film, our class learned about how ROVs are built and how they are used in research in the ocean. Very fascinating! We ended our year building 5 ROVs, which culminated in a competition running them through various challenges. The winning ROV, the Waverunner, is coming with me on this trip to swim through the Alaskan waters off the shore in Kodiak. How cool is that?!
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I am counting down the days until I head out to sea. Stay tuned for my next entry on board the mighty Oscar Dyson!
Did you know…that the scientific name for the Walleye Pollock was recently changed? After extensive genetic studies, researchers decided to change the scientific name from Theragra chalcogramma to Gadus chalcogrammus. Read more about it here.
Do you…have any questions about the research being done on Walleye pollock? Leave your questions in the comments below!
*Photos courtesy of Caine Delacey and Andrea Schmuttermair
Weather Data from the Bridge: Wind speed (knots): 13.47
Sea Temp (deg C): 8.55
Air Temp (deg C): 9
Science and Technology Log
The sound of fishes.
What are we doing here off the coast of the Aleutian Islands? Listening…sort of. We are collecting data used to estimate biomass (total amount of living matter in a given habitat) and to project population estimates for the Walleye Pollock Gadus chalcogrammus fishery.
Transects we fish are perpendicular to the islands.
How do we do this? In order to understand the instruments we are utilizing, I’ll attempt a simple but not completely accurate analogy: if I bounce a basketball on a cement driveway – it could bounce back with enough energy to hit me in the face (I’m not saying this has happened to me); however, if instead, I bounce the ball down onto a grassy lawn, the ball will barely bounce back up. Different materials reflect energy back with different frequencies and the picture this information translates to on a computer monitor is called an echogram:
Red – seafloor Bluish dots above – fishes!
The Oscar Dyson has several scientific echosounders (EK60, EK80, and ME70) with transducers attached to our hull that send out energy at various frequencies. As we travel along the transects (mostly perpendicular to the island chain) we are collecting these acoustic data. The fish species produce a different pattern on the echogram and the swimbladder (full of air) makes them show up clearly; scientists have been studying the Walleye Pollock for a while now and have a pretty good idea of what Walleye Pollock “look” like on an echogram. Sometimes the scientists observe an echogram that they are not certain about or want to verify characteristics such as length, weight, and age for an area – this means we get to fish!
Me learning to measure the length of a ~3 yr Pollock. Photo Credit: Patrick Ressler
Personal Log
The process began with a bit of dancing to Macklemore and Gangnam Style (thanks, Alyssa Pourmonir for providing the playlist!). Music makes every task more enjoyable! I learned how to sex a fish and cut its skull open to pull out the otoliths (calcium carbonate structures located behind the brain that can be used to estimate age and growth rate) – more on this process to come! Given that I spent the majority of my childhood as a vegetarian and maintained aspirations of becoming a veterinarian and saving the lives of animals, today was a gigantic step in another direction. I could not help but feel remorse as I sliced into the bellies of the fish and splayed them open to reveal the ovaries or testis. As a newbie, I was quite a bit slower than my coworkers, but after about 30 fish, I started to hesitate less often and verify the gonads more quickly. If any of you have spent time fishing with me, you’ll know that I enjoy the chase, but avoid handling the fish once they are on board, I’ve even been known to utter an impulsive “uh oh” when I catch a fish. I am pretty sure that after this trip, I’ll be comfortable filleting…no guarantees on my casting skills.
We unintentionally caught a salmon shark but the crew was able to return it to the ocean safely!
Did you know? Killer whales are the most widely distributed marine mammal and live in matriarchal societies. I’ve been enjoying watching these whales from the bridge!
NOAA Teacher at Sea Nikki Durkan Boarding NOAA Ship Oscar Dyson next week! Date Range at Sea: June 11 – 30, 2015
Mission: Acoustic-trawl Survey Geographical area of cruise: Gulf of Alaska Date: Thursday, June 4 2015
Introduction
Hello from Steamboat Springs, Colorado! This is my 7th year living in this spectacular Rocky Mountain town at 6,900 feet/2103 meters. I currently teach biology, geography, AP environmental science, and global politics at an independent high school called the Steamboat Mountain School. I love this little, adventurous school and feel fortunate to call our campus in the woods my home. As I finish up my teaching responsibilities at the end of the year and say goodbye to my talented, fun-loving, and hilarious students (a good sense of humor is requisite for teaching high schoolers), I always take time to reflect on how I can improve my craft as an instructor for next year. What better way to sharpen my inquiry skills than to live at sea with scientists for 20 days? I applied to the Teacher at Sea program looking for a top notch research experience to enrich my curriculum and obviously for the adventure this program affords me!
I believe I first became enamoured with marine science as a young girl while exploring the beaches surrounding Buzzards Bay – it was here that I discovered the fascinating lives of horseshoe crabs! Did you know their baby blue blood contains a chemical superpower used to verify bacterial contamination in every FDA approved drug?
In college at the University of Colorado, Boulder, I earned my degrees in biology and secondary science education. And before moving to Steamboat Springs, I lived in Maui, Hawaii with my family where I worked for the Pacific Whale Foundation as a naturalist. My time out on the ocean gave me an even deeper appreciation for the wonders of our water world. Every single day on the ocean is different from the next, full of surprises and new discoveries to be made. I am thankful and proud to become a member of the Teacher at Sea Program!
One of my passions: Nordic skiing!
Currently, my courses conduct biodiversity plot studies, forest transects, monitor water and soil quality, record secondary succession in a fire mitigation area, and now have created a functioning aquaponics system with tilapia!
Zip-grow tower from Brightagrotech in our greenhouse!
Our tilapia live in an in-ground tank from which we pump water into a network of irrigation tubes (attached to a repurposed bed frame) that then waters eight Zip-grow towers. The fish excrement provides much needed nutrients for the plants and the fish are happy because their water is returned after being filtered through the plant root system. Farmed fish is beginning to play a significant role in our food supply. This brings me to a recent article in Outside magazine that I found quite interesting (thanks for sharing, David!). I look forward to learning more about how the health of the fisheries in Alaska are measured and what role the scientists on board believe farmed fish should or will play in our diet for the future. NOAA also has a great resource to help make decisions on our seafood choices.
Please checkout the ship’s website for an overview of our mission.
My home for the next month. Photo credit: NOAA ship tracker
I head to Kodiak, Alaska on Monday, June 8th to meet the ship crew and scientists before we embark on our trip. Please send me comments, questions, and suggestions for my blog, I greatly appreciate your feedback. Time to start packing!
Science and Technology Log: Abiotic Factors in the Bering Sea
Ecosystems are made up of biotic and abiotic factors. Biotic is just another word for “stuff that is, or was, alive.” In a forest, that would include everything from Owl to Oak Tree, from bear to bacteria, and from fish to fungi. It includes anything alive, or, for that matter, dead. Keep in mind that “dead” is not the same as “non-living.”
The salmon and the black-legged kittiwake are both biotic members of the sub-arctic ecosystem.
“Non-living” describes things that are not, cannot, and never will be “alive.” These things are referred to as “abiotic.” (The prefix a- basically means the same as non-). Rocks, water, wind, sunlight and temperature are all considered abiotic factors. And while the most obvious threat to a salmon swimming up river might be the slash of a bear’s mighty claw, warm water could be even more deadly. Warm water carries less dissolved oxygen for the fish to absorb through their gills. This means that a power plant or factory that releases warm water into a river could actually cause fish to suffocate and, well, drown.
A 90 degree panorama of the Bering Sea from atop the Oscar Dyson. I’d show you the other 270°, but it’s pretty much the same. The sea and sky are abiotic parts of the sub-arctic ecosystem.
Fish in the Bering Sea have the same kind of challenges. Like Goldilocks, Pollock are always looking for sea water that is just right. The Oscar Dyson has the tools for testing all sorts of Abiotic factors. This is the Conductivity Temperature Depth sensor (Also known as the CTD).
Survey Technicians Allen and Bill teach me how to launch The Conductivity Temperature Depth Probe (or CTD).
The CTD sends signals up to computers in the cave to explain all sorts of abiotic conditions in the water column. It can measure how salty the water is by testing how well the water conducts electricity. It can tell you how cloudy, or turbid, the water is with a turbidity sensor. It can even tell you things like the amount of oxygen dissolved in the ocean.
To see how abiotic factors drive biotic factors, take a look at this.
The graph above is depth-oriented. The further down you go on the graph, the deeper in the water column you are. The blue line represents temperature. Does the temperature stay constant? Where does it change?
I know, you may want to turn the graph above on its side… but don’t. You’ll notice that depth is on the y-axis (left). That means that the further down you are on the graph, the deeper in the sea you are. The blue line represents the water temperature at that depth. Where do you see the temperature drop?
Right… The temperature drops rapidly between about 20 and 35 meters. This part of the water column is called the Thermocline, and you’ll find it in much of the world’s oceans. It’s essentially where the temperature between surface waters (which are heated by the sun) and the deeper waters (typically dark and cold) mix together.
OK, so you’re like “great. So what? Water gets colder. Big deal… let’s throw a parade for science.”
Well, look at the graph to the right. It was made from another kind of data recorded by the CTD.
Fluoresence: Another depth-oriented graph from the CTD… the green line effectively shows us the amount of phytoplankton in the water column, based on depth.
The green line represents the amount of fluorescence. Fluorescence is a marker of phytoplankton. Phytoplankton are plant-like protists… the great producers of the sea! The more fluorescence, the more phytoplankton you have. Phytoplankton love to live right at the bottom of the thermocline. It gives them the best of both worlds: sunlight from above and nutrients from the bottom of the sea, which so many animals call home.
Now, if you’re a fish… especially a vegetarian fish, you just said: “Dinner? I’m listening…” But there’s an added bonus.
Look at this:
Oxygen data from the CTD! This shows where the most dissolved oxygen is in the water column, based on depth. Notice any connections to the other graphs?
That orange line represents the amount of oxygen dissolved in the water. How does that compare to the other graphs?
Yup! The phytoplankton is hanging down there at the bottom of the thermocline cranking out oxygen! What a fine place to be a fish! Dinner and plenty of fresh air to breathe! So here, the abiotic (the temperature) drives the biotic (phytoplankton) which then drives the abiotic again (oxygen). This dance between biotic and abiotic plays out throughout earth’s ecosystems.
Another major abiotic factor is the depth of the ocean floor. Deep areas, also known as abyss, or abyssal plains, have food sources that are so far below the surface that phytoplankton can’t take advantage of the ground nutrients. Bad for phytoplankton is, of course, bad for fish. Look at this:
The blue cloud represents a last grouping of fish as the continental shelf drops into the deep. Dr. Mikhail examines a cod.
That sloping red line is the profile (side view of the shape of the land) of the ocean floor. Those blue dots on the slope are fish. As Dr. Mikhail Stepanenko, a visiting Pollock specialist from Vladivostok, Russia, puts it, “after this… no more Pollock. It’s too deep.”
He goes on to show me how Pollock in the Bering Sea are only found on the continental shelf between the Aleutian Islands and Northeastern Russia. Young Pollock start their lives down near the Aleutians to the southeast, then migrate Northwest towards Russia, where lots of food is waiting for them.
Alaskan Pollock avoid the deep! Purple line represents the ocean floor right before it drops off into the Aleutian Basin… a very deep place!
The purple line drawn in represents the drop-off you saw above… right before the deep zone. Pollock tend to stay in the shallow areas above it… where the eating is good!
Once again, the dance between the abiotic and the biotic create an ecosystem. Over the abyss, Phytoplankton can’t take advantage of nutrients from the deep, and fish can’t take advantage of the phytoplankton. Nonliving aspects have a MASSIVE impact on all the organisms in an ecosystem.
Next time we explore the Biotic side of things… the Sub-arctic food web!
Personal Log: The Order of the Monkey’s Fist.
Sweet William, a retired police officer turned ship’s engineer, tells the story of the order of the monkey’s fist.
Sweet William the Engineer shows off a monkey’s fist
The story goes that some island came up with a clever way to catch monkeys. They’d place a piece of fruit in a jar just barely big enough for the fruit to fit through and then leave the jar out for the monkeys. When a monkey saw it, they’d reach their hand in to grab the fruit, but couldn’t pull it out because their hands were too big now that they had the fruit in it. The monkey, so attached to the idea of an “easy” meal wouldn’t let go, making them easy pickings for the islanders. The Monkey’s Fist became a symbol for how clinging to our desires for some things can, in the end, do more harm than good. That sometimes letting go of something we want so badly is, in the end, what can grant us relief.
Another story of the origin of the monkey’s fist goes like this: A sea captain saw a sailor on the beach sharing his meal with a monkey. Without skipping a beat, the monkey went into the jungle and brought the sailor some of HIS meal… a piece of fruit.
No man is an Island. Mt. Ballyhoo, Unalaska, AK
Whatever the true origin of the Order is, the message is the same. Generosity beats selfishness at sea. It’s often better to let go of your own interests, sometimes, and think of someone else’s. Onboard the Oscar Dyson, when we see someone committing an act of kindness, we put their name in a box. Every now and then they pull a name from the box, and that person wins something at the ship store… a hat or a t-shirt or what have you. Of course, that’s not the point. The point is that NOAA sailors… scientists, corps, and crew… have each other’s backs. They look out for each other in a place where all they really have IS each other.
It’s 4 in the morning. I make my way into the cave. The cave is the computer lab. On one wall the size of my classroom whiteboard, there are nine computer monitors, each one regularly updating with information about the fish under the boat. We’ll talk more about the tech on another day. Today is my first trawl. A trawl is when we drop a net and haul up whatever we can catch.
Chief Scientist Taina and Contracting Scientist Nate in the Cave
I’m still getting my head around a cup of coffee when Alyssa comes in wearing a hard hat and life vest.
“In about 20 minutes, I’m going to need another hand on deck wearing this.” She points to her gear.
I nod. “Where do I find that?”
Alyssa politely tells me where the gear is. I remember that I’m not supposed to go out on deck when they’re hauling up the net… at least not yet. “Who do you want me to tell?” I say.
“Nate would be great! Nate or Darin!” she says, referring to a pair of scientists… one of whom is going off duty (and probably going to sleep) and another who is coming on (and likely just waking up). She grabs some large tool that I can’t name and heads off. Alyssa, like a lot of the crew, is friendly and upbeat in the mess hall (the cafeteria), but is completely focused and efficient on the job, with an eye towards safety and getting the job done.
Your teacher with a Jellyfish bigger than his head.
Our first trawl is the Marinovich Net. It’s a smaller net, but still takes several fishermen and a winch to bring up. It’s a fairly fine net, with holes about the size of a ping pong ball. In our first trawl of the trip, we mostly catch jellyfish. These aren’t your typical, East Coast jellies, though. Some of them are the size of basketballs, and you can see the fish THEY’VE caught through their see-through membrane (their skin!).
We ended up hauling in over 500 pounds of Jellyfish!
Buckets and Buckets of Jellyfish I got to sort with my very own hands!
It’s not a bad first catch, but NOAA scientists aren’t content with that. Hanging on the side of the Marinovich are smaller “pocket” nets. This is where we find out what the Marinovich missed. Nate explains to me that, while we are mainly studying Pollock, there’s other valuable data that can be gleaned (collected) in the process. Other scientists studying Krill populations will be grateful for the data.
The pocket nets are labeled, and each net is placed in a labeled bucket. Then I grab a pair of tweezers and start sorting. It’s mostly krill… skinny shrimp-like organisms with beady black eyes. These tiny invertebrates, altogether, make up millions of metric tons of biomass, according to Misha, our resident Russian scientist on board. Biomass is the amount, by weight, of living things in an ecosystem.
Nate asks me to count out 100 krill with my tweezers, which is kind of like counting out 100 tiny pieces of wet spaghetti. Nate places the 100 on a scale and comes up with a mass of 5 grams. He then measures the rest of the krill, and uses the mass of the original 100 as a way to gauge the total number of krill caught in the pocket net.
Counting Krill: That tiny pile near my nose? Exactly 100 krill, thank you very much!
What stands out to me about this whole process is the attention to detail. That each pocket is carefully sorted, measured, and entered into a computer base. There’s no “-ish” here. I’m not asked to sort “about a hundred.” Not only are the contents of each pocket net measured, but we make sure to note which pocket had exactly how much.
Some of the catch isn’t Krill, however. Sandi calls me over to see how she measures a tiny rock fish. Sandi is a marine biologist who studies reproduction in Pollock. With a gleam in her eyes she explains what’s so great about getting different size young in the net.
“What it means is that it’s possible that some of these fish might be from further away… and we don’t know how they got here, when they got here, or where they came from. And that’s exciting! We weren’t expecting that and it gives us a whole new set of questions!”
I get asked by a lot of kids “how do scientists know that?” My long answer is exactly this. That good scientists DO sweat the small stuff, they make sure that every little variable is accounted for, and collect massive amounts of data. They look for any possible error that might throw off their results or call their conclusions into question. They do the hard work of truly understanding.
So when I hear folks say they don’t believe something simply because it’s inconvenient for them… maybe it challenges a belief that they’ve clung to for no better reason than not wanting to be wrong… I just want to say “Did you do the work? Because I know some people who did.”
And this holds true for all the scientists I’ve been lucky enough to know. Whether they were counting krill, measuring background radiation, or looking for Dark Matter.
By the way, my short answer on “How do scientists know that?” They did their homework.;)
Personal Log
It’s the morning of our third day at sea. It’s taken some getting used to… the first piece is the motion of the boat. Any 8th graders that went on “Untamed!” with me at Canobie Lake Park know that I’ve got some limits as to how I handle a lot of “movement.” The first 8 hours onboard the Oscar Dyson were rough. I thought I might get sick at any moment! But over time, the body figures it out… It’s like your body just says “Oh, this is just what we’re doing now…” and gets OK with it. Now going to bed is like being rocked to sleep by mother earth. 🙂
Alaska…Land of the Midnight Sunset!
The next, very different thing about life on the Bering Sea is time. My schedule is from 4 a.m. to 4 p.m… which in some ways is good. 4 a.m. in Alaska is 8 a.m. Eastern Time (Boston Time). So coming home won’t be that tough. The weird thing is going to sleep. This is the view out my window at 11:00 at night.
This is, of course, because the earth has that big old tilt of 23.4 degrees. This is why Alaska is known as “The Land of the Midnight Sun.” Well, we’re a little more than a month past the summer solstice, and we’re not currently above the Arctic Circle. So the sun DOES eventually go down… around Midnight! That means that I need to go to sleep during the daylight. Sometimes as early as 8 p.m.! And that means I need a lot of shades… Shades for my window, shades for my bed, even shades for my head!
Shades for my window, shades for my bed. Every now and then I wear shades for my head!
We live in an amazing time, where we can travel about the planet, see the extremes that are possible under the physics of this world, and communicate that experience in the same day. Tune in next time when I tell you how to tell the gender of a Pollock. Hint: You can’t just lift their tail!
