Disneyland for Marine Biologists (MBL's Marine Resources Center)

As you might already know, I can go on for days about how much I enjoy Woods Hole.  So when I had a chance to go to last week's Ocean Literacy Summit, which happened to be in Woods Hole, I hopped a bus down there for a couple of days of learning and camaraderie.  Fall is the best time to be on the Cape, and although it was grey, rainy, and windy, I just loved it. The best part of the conference was Thursday's field trip to the Marine Biological Lab (MBL's) Marine Resource Center.  As David Remson -- the manager of the center -- told us, the folks there act as "grocers to the scientists". 

MBL is a world powerhouse in biomedical research, particularly in research focused on marine organisms.  It might not seem like it, but marine organisms have a lot in common with us, and are great model organisms for learning about how humans work.  After all, we're just highly modified fish.  So the Resource Center's job is to get the critters the scientists work on:  squid, clams, crabs, skates, horseshoe crabs -- you name it. 

This is no rinky-dink operation.  The MRC is huge, and complex, and the stakes are high if animals can't be kept comfortable and healthy.  Most of the labs at MBL need to raise millions of dollars to support their work, and agencies like NIH, NSF, and even the military pony up the funds for it.  So if there aren't any animals to work on, it's a really, really big deal.  Keeping the water temperature perfect, and the water clean, and the conditions just right for the animals is paramount. 

That's why it was a real treat to see the place.  Since a picture paints a thousand words, I'll just stop typing and get on with it:

David Remson starts the tour at this lovely display tank, full of goodies.

Anyone wearing Grunden's to work is cool.

The place was lousy with pipes.  Pipes, pipes, and more pipes!

Sea urchins (I think Arbacia punctulata) are often used to study developmental biology.  (Echinoderms are, after all, a kissin' cousin to the chordates!)

Spisula sp, a clam that has large, clear eggs -- great for embryology.

Squid are a big deal at MBL.  Their nervous system is large, and easy to study, so much of the early work in neurology was done on squid.  But apparently, they are hard to catch, and even well-educated people can be dumb sometimes.

Explaining how to catch a squid.

Friends of the Calamari thank you for your cooperation.

The MBL has a group of people studying chordate development (we are chordates, remember).  They have a skate farm, with lots of mama and papa skates, who make the coolest egg cases -- mermaid's purses.  Since they know when each was hatched, they know what day of development it's at!  Very clever.

Another skate.

Just a few egg cases.  They had about a dozen of these trays!

A baby!  Cool.

A born baby!

Sharks.

A whole bunch of Spisula.

Spider crabs!

Ooo.  A big bad blue crab.

A crap-ton of horseshoe crabs.  These are all ladies.

Flounder.

We also got to talk to some of the research faculty at MBL.  Roger Hanlon was kind enough to take time out of his day to discuss how cephalods -- squid, octopi, cuttlefish, and the chambered nautilus -- use special cells to camouflage themselves.  This taxa uses chromatophores -- special pigment-containing cells that can change size on command -- to mimic their surroundings.  This was really fascinating stuff, and if you want to learn something cool today, I recommend spending some time with Dr. Hanlon by watching this video.  We got to see an experimental setup testing how cuttlefish decide to change their coloration -- so cool.  This was followed up with a talk by Steve Senft about the structure of cephalopod skin.  Super interesting!

 

The cuttlefish starting to change his coloration! 

The experimental set up.

We all left the tour feeling quite amazed.  The rain had stopped for the moment, making for a perfect time to snap some pics of a favorite sculpture, and the Eel Pond.

What do you think they've been so passionately discussing for all this time?  Locked in debate for eternity.

The rain breaks over Eel Pond.

So you don't think it's all smurfs and raisins

Yeah, I have a great job.

But sometimes, you gotta admit sitting warm and cozy in an office might be preferable.  Especially at the tail end of a nor'easter, with gusty winds, cool temperatures, drizzle, and gloomy skies.  On a day when the tide is particularly low, so collecting for class specimens is on the agenda.

Nothing to do but put on the foul weather gear, grab a bucket, and stop whining!

It wasn't all that bad in all these layers.  There's no bad weather, just bad clothes.

I walked along the shore from Dick's Lobster to Potts Point.

Talk about grey . . .

. . . but beautiful.

No one hides from me!  I see you.

Ha!  A tiny little dogwhelk.  There were tons of them, probably freshly hatched.

Now that's some beautiful seaweed.

And the sun tried it's hardest to cooperate!

Just One More Moment of Summer (Holbrooks)

It's been pretty warm in Maine, even during most of October.  Still shorts weather, still sitting on the porch eating dinner weather, still walking on the beach weather.  It's spectacular -- crystal clear air, warm sunshine, and not too many tourists.  But there are hints of what's to come.  The leaves start to turn; just a little at first.  The days grow shorter, with sunset arriving earlier and earlier.  And eventually, there's a hint of frost on the leaves in the early morning.  Summer ends, fall begins, and Mainers start to think about finding the snow shovels, maybe buying a new pair of boots, and breaking out the skis and snow shoes.

An ocean lover knows winter isn't a kind season for exploring beaches and tidepools.  I still have plenty of collecting to do for this semester's marine bio class, but I know soon it'll get too cold to reach a hand into the Gulf of Maine with anything but a grimace, and eventually the trails down to the water will ice over.  So I have to make the most of every moment in the fall -- hit one more beach; drive to one more lighthouse; lie on more dock and gaze over the edge to see who's living on the piers. 

One of the things I feel driven to do in fall is stuff all the lobster rolls I can into my face sample just a few more lobster rolls before the seasonal shacks close down.  Many of the best spots for seafood in Maine are only open in the warm months, so it's important to get your fill of rolls before these shacks close for the season.  One of my favorites is pretty close to home, and luckily, it's right on the way to some of my best collecting spots.  Why not kill two birds with one stone, and stop for a lobster roll on the way to my field work?

HOLBROOKS:  I love Holbrooks.  Tucked up at the end of Cundy's Harbor, you can't get more Maine than this.  Lobster boats?  Check.  Beaten up working pickups?  Check.  Old Maine homes built too close to a twisty-turny road?  Check.  Spectacular sunsets, and foggy days, and the smell of bait?  Check.

We're lucky we still have Holbrooks.  Like so much of Maine's working waterfront, it was threatened by private development back in 2005.  What had for years been a spot devoted to commercial fishing was up for sale, and everybody feared it would turn into a private home, or worse yet -- condos.  So a group of local residents formed the Holbrook Community Foundation; raised money, bought the place, and today is devoted to keeping the coast clear for local fishermen and tourists.  Their snack bar, located on the wharf, is found at one of the prettiest spots in the country, and lobster has never tasted so good.

GETTING THERE:  From US1 in Brunswick, take Rt 24 south and go 5 1/2 miles south.  Turn left onto Cundy's Harbor Road, and go 4 1/2 miles; Holbrooks will be on the left.  BYOB, or better yet, support the local economy by getting a bottle of wine at the General Store just in front of the snack bar.

Searching for Ciona (see-o-na)

Ciona intestinalis; note the two "siphons" that the animal uses for filter feeding.

Ciona intestinalis is probably never going to be the star of its own Nat Geo special.  Charismatic it is not; nor is it megafauna.  But this small tunicate (or sea squirt) is a major player in the Gulf of Maine, and believe it or not is our kissing cousin.

Both my marine bio and my friend Beth Richard's developmental bio labs are interested in Ciona.  Tunicates (which include the sea squirts as well as colonial tunicates) are urochordates -- somewhat similar to the chordates (the group we belong to, along with birds, reptiles, fish, and other mammals).  Chordates have several features in common because we all evolved from a common ancestor.  Some of the characteristics we have in common are a notochord during development (a rod-like structure akin to our backbone); a nerve chord; pharygeal slits (in tunicates, these are used for filter feeding; in humans, these have evolved to become part of our faces and other parts of our anatomy); and a post-anal tail (we've lost ours, but still have a "tailbone").

The similarity of tunicates -- which really look pretty blobby compared to us -- is most apparent in its larval form. Beth searches out tunicates so her students can observe the eggs, sperm, and if they're lucky, fertilized eggs and the larval "tadpole" form.  I've only seen this form once, by chance, and let out a whoop that probably confirmed my students' suspicion that I'm a bit nuts.  So I was more than happy to go out collecting with Beth, in exchange for getting to spend some time checking out the eggs, sperm, and maybe larvae.

How do you collect Ciona?  Well, they grow all over docks, so we headed out looking for a likely spot.  First it was off to Dolphin Marina, where we had a lot of luck finding colonial tunicates -- mostly invasive species that smother whatever their larvae land on.  It's hard not to feel bad for that kelp!

Then we hit a lobsterman's dock, where we had terrific luck.  Beth scooped up a "hunk of junk" as I like to call it, and we'd hit the jackpot.  Take a look at all the amazing organisms attached to the side of docks next time you head to the shore -- you might find some Ciona, and you can impress your friends by telling them the blobs are just your kissin' cousin!

Beth, sneaking up on tunicates.

Searching, or napping?  You be the judge.

A "hunk of junk".

Colonial tunicates of several species.  Poor kelp.

More of the blob.

Ciona intestinalis.

The side of the dock at Dolphin Marina.  Interesting hydroids, mussels, anemones, and tunicates.

A wonderland!