Oceanographic Magazine / Issue 21 by Oceanographic Magazine

ISSUE

Conservation • Exploration • Adventure

COLOUR & COLD THE VIBRANCY OF OCEAN LIFE IN ALASKA

C OLLE C T I O N

Fifty Fathoms

©Photograph: Laurent Ballesta/Gombessa Project

The Fifty Fathoms collection embodies Blancpain’s passion for the underwater universe that was originally expressed in 1953 with the creation of the first modern diver’s watch. With its almost 70-year legacy of the Fifty Fathoms, the Brand has woven close ties with explorers, photographers, scientists, and environmentalists. With that affinity has come a determination to support important activities dedicated to ocean exploration and conservation. These initiatives are united under the label Blancpain Ocean Commitment.

RAISE AWARENESS, TRANSMIT OUR PASSION, HELP PROTECT THE OCEAN www.blancpain-ocean-commitment.com

BEIJING · DUBAI · GENEVA · KUALA LUMPUR · LAS VEGAS · LONDON · MACAU · MADRID MUNICH · NEW YORK · PARIS · SEOUL · SHANGHAI · SHENZHEN · SINGAPORE · TAIPEI · TOKYO · ZURICH

EXCEPTIONAL MOMENTS DANCING IN THE RAIN # ex p e r i e n ce t h e exce p t i o n a l P R I N C E S S YA C H T S . C O M

All-new Princess X95 Superfly

#WHEREVERYOUGO

PHOTO BY FABIAN JOHANN

CREWCLOTHING!COM

WELCOME

Editor’s Letter H e r p h o t o g ra p h has since gone o n t o e n t h ra l t h e w o r l d , re a c h i n g into the homes and hearts of h u n d re d s o f millions of people on Planet Ocean.

The Ocean Photography Awards 2021 has officially finished, the dismantling of our beautiful London exhibition in midOctober formally bringing this year's competition to an end. What a year it has been. Thank you to all of you who tuned in throughout the 'Awards Week' as we revealed this year's category winners, culminating with 2021's Ocean Photographer of the Year, Aimee Jan, who won over the judges with her stunning image of a green sea turtle surrounded by glass fish on Western Australia's Ningaloo Reef. Her photograph has since gone on to enthral the world, as have many of this year's category winners and finalists, reaching into the homes and hearts of hundreds of millions of people on Planet Ocean. At the centre of that web is you, the Oceanographic and Ocean Photography Awards community. Thank you to all of you who submitted, shared or gave us a shout-out. If you haven't seen all this year's winners and finalists, you can do so at www.oceanphotographyawards.com, where more than 100 of this year's images, along with supporting information, can be found. You'll also find a small selection of photographs (winners and some of our favourites) in this issue of Oceanographic, in a special edition of 'Behind the lens'. Before you get there (p.51-82), you can also enjoy a series of OPA2021 images across our #MyOcean pages (p.12-19), in a celebration of some of the beautiful photographs that sadly had to be left on the judging room floor this year.

Will Harrison Editor

Enjoy!

@waj.harrison @og_editor Oceanographicmag

Oceanographic Issue 21

Contents O N T H E C OV E R

FEATURE S

C O L O U R & COLD

A golden lion's mane jellyfish hunts its prey, moon jellyfish. Photograph by Ron Watkins.

Alaska is wild, remote and home to myriad ocean species - including a particularly elusive one, the mysterious salmon shark.

Get in touch ED I TO R

Will Harrison

CR EAT I V E D I R E C TO R

Amelia Costley

D I G I TA L E D I TO R

Nane Steinhoff

CO N T R I B U T I N G E D I TO R

Hugh Francis Anderson

D ES I G N A S S I S TA N T

Joanna Kilgour

PA RT N E R S H I P S D I R E C TO R

Chris Anson

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YO U R O C E A N IMAGES

@oceanographic_mag @oceano_mag Oceanographicmag

A S S TO C K E D I N

For all enquiries regarding stockists, submissions, or just to say hello, please email info@oceanographicmagazine.com or call (+44) 20 3637 8680. Published in the UK by CXD MEDIA Ltd. © 2021 CXD MEDIA Ltd. All rights reserved. Nothing in whole or in part may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher.

ISSN: 2516-5941

A collection of some of the most captivating ocean photography shared with us, both beautiful and arresting. Tag us or use #MYOCEAN for the opportunity to be featured within these pages.

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CONTENTS

20%

BIG AG G R EGATI O N

W H A L E S H OW

PR O FIT-S HA R ING CO M MITM ENT TO O CEA N CO N SERVAT IO N . A PR O M IS E WE'R E PR O UD O F.

L IT T L E B Y L IT T L E

WALKING SHARKS

Every year, hundreds of thousands of giant cuttlefish aggregate in Australia's Spencer Gulf to mate. It is the largest event of its kind and one of nature's great spectacles.

For hundreds of humpback whales in the Gulf of Maine – along with up to 70 other species – life depends on one tiny fish: the sand lance.

In Florida, Coral Restoration Foundation™ is tackling the seemingly impossible task of restoring an entire ecosystem, while also revealing what hurricanes, coral restoration and cameras have in common.

On the east coast of Australia, within the Great Barrier Reef, lives the world's only walking shark. The species might provide important answers on how sharks deal with climate change.

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BEHIND TH E L E N S

C O LUMN S

#OPA2021

THE SOCIAL ECOLOGIST

T HE O C E A N AC T IV IS T

In a special edition of Behind the lens, we take a look at a selection of winning images from this year's Ocean Photography Awards, including the competition's overall winner: The Ocean Photographer of the Year.

Big wave surf champion, environmentalist and social change advocate Dr Easkey Britton reflects on the power the ocean has to reconnect us to our bodies and to our sense of self.

Environmentalist and Surfers Against Sewage CEO Hugo Tagholm discusses the 'second wave' of sewage and agricultural pollution that is currently blighting the UK's rivers and coastlines.

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Oceanographic Issue 21

Kristian Laine Australia “This slow shutter speed technique is nothing new, but I wanted to give the technique my own twist,” says photographer Laine. “This image took me over an hour to master, and the results still make me smile.” S U B M I T T E D TO

#MYOCEAN

Gergo Rugli Australia A large pod of common dolphins in the clear waters of Nelson Bay. “I have been fascinated with dolphins since my childhood,” says photographer Rugli. “It fills my heart with joy every time these beautiful animals join our boat for a ride.” S U B M I T T E D TO

#MYOCEAN

Grant Thomas Scotland “This is my unique take on one of Scotland’s most loved and most photographed Munro peaks,” says photographer Thomas. “Buachaille Etive Mor's distinctive shape makes it popular with photographers and walkers alike” S U B M I T T E D TO

#MYOCEAN

Fiona Wardle New Zealand Orcas pursue a pod of dusky dolphins. “Although New Zealand’s orca are known for primarily feeding upon sharks and rays, [they do] also target marine mammals,” says photographer Wardle. S U B M I T T E D TO

#MYOCEAN

BEHIND THE LENS

Oceanographic Issue 21

BEHIND THE LENS

COLOUR & COLD

vibrancy and mystery in Alaska

Alaska is wild, remote and home to myriad ocean species - including a particularly elusive one, the mysterious salmon shark. Wo rd s a n d p h o t o g ra p h s b y R o n Wa t k i n s

Oceanographic Issue 21

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ABOVE: Matanuska Glacier, between Anchorage and Valdez. LEFT: A salmon shark surfaces in search of a herring. PREVIOUS PAGE: A salmon shark's dorsal fin cuts through still Alaskan waters.

hat first brought me to Alaska was the desire to find and photograph the salmon shark, a species so difficult to find that many refer to it as a 'unicorn'. In the summer of 2016, I ventured to a remote area of Alaska in search of this mysterious shark. The salmon shark is a cousin of the mako and white shark, but has adapted to hunt and survive in cold (4-10 degrees Celsius) waters. The sharks are drawn to Alaskan waters during the summer to feast on the dense congregation of spawning pink and chum salmon returning to the nearby streams to complete the circle of life. Despite carefully planning my trip around the perfect time, having all the right gear and going with the best guide, I left Alaska in 2016 like many before me, with no underwater photos of the aquatic unicorn. But I left with something much more important - a greater appreciation and newly kindled passion for these sharks and the other wildlife above and below the water that share this beautiful but fragile ecosystem. My Alaska port of entry is Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport and after a brief overnight stay, I board a small twin-engine turboprop and fly over impressive mountain peaks still covered in snow – as well as several glaciers – on my way to the city of Valdez. Valdez, while technically a city, is a small commercial fishing town of approximately 4,000 people, surrounded by towering mountain peaks. It is often associated with

the 1989 Exxon Valdez tanker oil spill, which occurred nearby in Prince William Sound at Bligh Island. The area has had more than a quarter of a century to heal after the massive cleanup effort and while there is no visible trace of the spill, the ecosystem has not yet fully recovered. For me, Valdez is where I meet up with a few other adventurers heading out in search of salmon sharks under the skilled guidance of Daniel ‘Boone’ Hodgin. From Port Valdez, a two-hour boat ride takes us past Columbia Glacier and its many floating icebergs, and brings us into Port Fidalgo with its surrounding rugged green mountains. At this time of year, the mid-summer days are long, with 20 hours of sunlight. Our searching time certainly won't be hindered by nightfall, but in order to locate salmon sharks, the weather conditions have to be perfect, with little or no wind and calm water, so that their dorsal fins can be spotted as they cut through the water. Unlike other sharks, salmon sharks are not attracted to chum slicks or bait buckets, which means those searching for them have to be able to see them from the boat. Once spotted, Boone observes the behaviour of the shark. If it appears to be a ‘player’, he tries to lure it close to the boat with a herring tied to the end of a fishing line without hook. Once the shark locks onto the herring, it will chase after it until it either catches the fish or loses interest. Boone is a master at this game and knows how to

Oceanographic Issue 21

F E AT U R E

“Although it was salmon sharks that initially lured me to the Prince William Sound, this is a part of our planet that is full of life, both above and below the water.”

keep the sharks interested long enough while we quietly slip into the water with our snorkel gear and cameras. It wasn't until my second trip to Alaska in 2017 that the forces of nature finally aligned, and I was able to get in the water with a few salmon sharks for an extended period of time and get my first photo of this elusive species. During this particular trip, I was fortunate enough to spend more than 70 minutes in the water with eight different salmon sharks over a two-day period. One unique encounter included interactions with four different salmon sharks, until a large dominant male showed up and chased the others off. On the third day, the weather changed and the sharks disappeared. Anyone who has photographed wildlife can appreciate that encounters are never guaranteed, but for two magical days that year, we were able to swim with and photograph these elusive sharks. In contrast, during the summer of 2021, we had very limited interaction with the sharks and were only able to experience a handful of quick encounters. The weather wasn’t ideal during our search time on this occasion. We saw fewer sharks in the water and the individuals were skittish. Another interesting observation: the salmon didn’t return on their annual journey. In Boone’s 10 years as a local expert, this has only occurred on one other occasion – during a year when the Prince William Sound experienced unusually high water temperatures. He believes the salmon that live most of their lives in the cooler coastal seas couldn’t make it through the warm barrier at the entrance to Port Fidalgo. The warmer water could be an impact of global climate change, paired with the increased rate of glacial retreat at Columbia Glacier since 1980. Another worrisome observation: several sharks seen in the area both this year and last, had what appeared to be necrotic skin around their mouths and undersides. The specific cause of this condition is unknown but appears to be an infection. Although it was salmon sharks that initially lured me to the Prince William Sound, this is a part of our planet that is full of life, both above and below the water. Scuba diving in the area is unique – large plumose anemones,

A curious harbor seal peaks above the water at the approaching skiff.

Named after their common prey, salmon sharks are a species of mackerel shark that can grow up to 6 to 9 feet and weigh as much as 500 pounds. They have a unique endothermic ‘superpower’ shared with other members of the Lamnidae family, which gives them the ability to regulate their body temperature with vascular countercurrent heat exchangers known as rete mirabile. The majority of sharks are ectothermic or cold-blooded, but the salmon shark can raise its body temperature and warm certain organs like the brain and the swimming muscles up to 10 to 15 degrees F warmer than the surrounding water. This makes them more efficient predators capable of quick bursts of speed required to capture their fast prey, including herring, squid and their namesake, salmon. It also increases their geographic range, giving them a larger area for food sources, which is key to their survival.

MAIN IMAGE: An elusive salmon shark breaks the surface and turns quickly. TOP: A highly endothermic salmon shark glides through the milky and cold waters of Port Fidalgo. BOTTOM: The efficient hydrodynamic torpedo shape of the salmon shark allows it to achieve quick bursts of speed to catch prey.

“It is a natural phenomenon for jellyfish to congregate in huge numbers to reproduce, but it has been happening every summer in the Sound with increased frequency, according to Boone, who says the blooms have been getting larger over time.”

A lion's mane jellyfish glides through a smack of moon jellyfish on a rare sunny day in Port Fidalgo.

“This variety of life includes species such as hooded nudibranchs, colourful shrimp, decorator crabs, and an array of bottom dwelling fish. Larger subjects like the colourful Irish lord, sculpin, rockfish, halibut and giant Pacific octopus also inhabit the Sound.”

The tiny colourful opalescent nudibranch navigates a narrow blade of seagrass in search of food.

A rare purple moon jellyfish pulsates through a smack of white moon jellyfish feeding on tiny zooplankton.

“Like any imbalance in an ecosystem, an excessive amount of these jellyfish can deplete tiny zooplankton that other animals and small fish rely on, thus potentially disrupting the food chain.”

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MAIN: With some physical similarities to the great white shark, the smaller salmon shark has many differentiating features like a smaller mouth with teeth for catching small prey like salmon, squid and herring. TOP: A northern sea otter pops out of the water briefly to greet the visiting boat. MIDDLE: An abundance of bald eagles can be found soaring overhead, nesting in trees along the water and swooping down to catch fish on the surface of the water. BOTTOM: A hermit crab in a broken shell scurries over a piece of sea kelp.

sloping underwater rock formations, pinnacles, seagrass meadows and kelp forests that host an abundance of marine life. This variety of life includes species such as hooded nudibranchs, colourful shrimp, decorator crabs, and an array of bottom dwelling fish. Larger subjects like the colourful Irish lord, sculpin, rockfish, halibut and giant Pacific octopus also inhabit the Sound. Then there are the moon jellyfish blooms, so thick they can block out the sun. It is a natural phenomenon for jellyfish to congregate in huge numbers to reproduce, but it has been happening every summer in the Sound with increased frequency, according to Boone, who says the blooms have been getting larger over time. This may be in part due to increasing water temperatures as well as overfishing of jellyfish predators. Like any imbalance in an ecosystem, an excessive amount of these jellyfish can deplete tiny zooplankton that other animals and small fish rely on, thus potentially disrupting the food chain. On and above the waterline, it is very common to see curious harbor seals and large rafts of sea otters laying on their backs, some with young pups resting on their chest. Alaska also has a healthy population of bald eagles, and they can be seen nesting in trees or actively hunting fish – as can bears, river otters, and a myriad of other wildlife. Boone fondly shares memories about times when hundreds of salmon sharks could be spotted at a time. Over the last decade, the local salmon shark population has significantly declined from sport fishing pressures and commercial bycatch. Unfortunately, Boone now sometimes struggles to locate more than a handful of sharks. He has attempted to educate local fishers on the importance of salmon sharks and their decline over the years, but has faced challenges. Although oil and fishing are the leading industries in the region, wildlife tourism needs to play an increasingly significant role. The good news is that nature tourism and diving are popular already. Continued growth, alongside public education regarding the importance of healthy local shark populations, could ultimately prove key to preserving the Sound's salmon shark population. Areas like this remote corner of Alaska – a cold and colourful wonderland that still runs to an ancient rhythm despite the modern pressures around it – need our attention and our protection. I feel honoured to share its majesty with you. Oceanographic Issue 21

By Dr Easkey Britton

Column

The social ecologist WATER HOLDS

“Who holds you?” The words were a dream echo; I woke with the question in my mind. The response that rose up in me was immediate and spontaneous. “The ocean holds me.”

Photograph by Andrew Kaineder.

Oceanographic Issue 21

@easkeysurf

www.easkeybritton.com

About Easkey Dr Easkey Britton is a surfer and blue health researcher with the INCLUSEA project. Her work explores the relationship between people and the sea, using her passion for the ocean to create social change and connection across cultures. She currently resides in Donegal, Ireland. For information or to get involved visit: www.inclusea.eu Book excerpt from Easkey’s new book ‘Saltwater in the Blood’, published by Watkins and available from all good book sellers. For more visit: www.easkeybritton.com/books

ater has been holding us for a long time. Mum says that all the years we’ve been together as a family, the ocean has held us together: “We have a bond I can’t even explain that comes through the sharing of waves, getting out in the freezing cold when you were a tiny wee kid.” Water has been holding all of humanity for a long time. When I was twelve, my mother gave me a copy of environmentalist Rachel Carson’s book, The Sea Around Us, where Carson followed these aquatic roots back even further into the sea, highlighting the evolutionary connection between the sea and all living creatures: When they went ashore the animals that took up a land life carried with them a part of the sea in their bodies, a heritage which they passed on to their children and which even today links each land animal with its origin in the ancient sea. As a lifelong surfer, I was gifted this sea connection, or blue heritage, through stories passed down like genetic code from my surfing family, ancestry and place of belonging in Donegal. But it’s not just me who has this blue heritage. Recent studies have shown how simply being near water can have a positive impact on our wellbeing, and that time spent in the water, especially the sea, can improve our self-awareness, creativity, health, and reinforce our connection to ourselves, each other and nature. This human-water connection is what marine biologist Wallace J Nichols calls “Blue Mind”. The ocean shapes our identity, our sense of being and belonging. The sea remains in the saltwater of our blood, our cells, our DNA, from when the first animals came ashore and took up a land life. Like Rachel Carson says, we are all linked with this watery origin in the ancient sea. Our bodies have been shaped and formed by water. We literally have an ocean inside us. Like the Earth, which is over 70% ocean, our bodies are about 60–70% water. And like our mammalian cousins, such as dolphins, seals and whales, we too have evolutionary aquatic markers. Water is so important to us that we have developed rituals, both personal and communal. For example, I’ve spent most of my surfing life competing. To help focus my attention and not let the distractions of a busy contest site affect me – the noise of loud-speakers announcing scores,

spectators watching, other competitors warming up – I created a pre-surf ritual for myself. Every time, before the start of a heat, I would splash my face with water. It was something that grounded me. Water rituals have a long history in Ireland, with holy wells, once the sites of older pagan rituals, still holding importance today for spiritual practice and pilgrimage. My maternal grandmother would never let us leave the front door of the house without blessing our foreheads with holy water. It marked that transition from the safety of the home, the inner world, to the world outside and whatever journey we might discover. She swore that the sea was a “tonic for the soul”. My pre-surf ritual also marked my crossing of the threshold from the solidity of the land to the fluidity of the sea, from a human into a more-than-human world. It was a ritual that helped me move through this liminal space. In a way, it also had a familiarity from Catholic Ireland and the anointing of the forehead with holy water as a form of protection and inviting the Holy Spirit to come to us. It was my way of asking for the sea’s blessing but it also woke my senses to the quality of the sea I was about to immerse myself in. I could feel the temperature of the water on my skin and taste the saltiness on my lips. We have three times more cold-water receptors than warm on our skin. This had the effect of priming my body and helping me feel more at home, especially when I surfed unfamiliar spots. I immediately felt more refreshed, and a little calmer. I didn’t fully understand then what I now know to be the “evidence” behind this ritual. Advancements in neuroscience are exploring the effect of water on our mind-body connection. For example, take our optical nerve and how simply looking at water, even an aquarium or image of water, changes our brainwave’s frequency, putting us in a more meditative, calmer state. Most recently, scientific research is linking regular coldwater immersions with a reduced risk of dementia. The intuitive splashing of water on my face is even linked to one of our oldest evolutionary markers, the mammalian dive reflex. The calm I felt was the slowing of my heart on contact with water. Water has the incredible ability to reconnect us to our bodies, to our sense of self. It is the fluid medium that has connected and supported societies over millennia. EB

Oceanographic Issue 21

N AT U R E ’ S G R E AT

cuttlefish aggregation

Every year, hundreds of thousands of giant cuttlefish aggregate in Australia's Spencer Gulf to mate. It is the largest event of its kind and one of nature's great spectacles. Wo rd s a n d p h o t o g ra p h s b y S c o t t Po r t e l l i

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here are few creatures in the animal kingdom that are so complex, so unique, and so alien to us that we are mystified by their very existence. Imagine a creature that has three hearts, blue blood, and the ability to alter its appearance. Then imagine hundreds of thousands of them gathering in one place for a spawning event each year, from May to August. Both creature and event are something to behold. The Australian giant cuttlefish aggregation in the shallow waters of South Australia’s Upper Spencer Gulf truly is one of nature's great events. The cuttlefish is part of the cephalopod group, which includes squid, octopus and nautilus. Cephalopods are considered highly intelligent, and cuttlefish have one of the largest brains of any marine invertebrate. They aggregate in the thousands at Point Lowly, Whyalla. It is still unclear, however, where the Australian giant cuttlefish migrate from or why they aggregate in this specific location. Whether it is the underwater terrain, safety from predators, a food source for the hatchlings or instinct remains a mystery. However, the area around Point Lowly is perfectly suited for the mating needs of the species. The underwater environment, depth, water temperature, rocky outcrops and shallow terrain provide suitable conditions to lay eggs. The huge sandstone slabs, with numerous ledges, are perfect for attaching and distributing eggs.

“During the mating season, males compete for territories that have the best crevices and ledges for egg-laying and then attract females with mesmerising displays of colour, texture and patterns.” During the mating season, males compete for territories that have the best crevices and ledges for egg-laying and then attract females with mesmerising displays of colour, texture and patterns that appear to change across their skin. Males can weigh up to 10kg and reach a metre in length, and rivalry among the world’s largest cuttlefish is fierce – males outnumber females by up to 11 to 1 at the beginning of the mating season. Nowhere else in the world is there a mating aggregation on such a grand scale. However, months of posturing, fighting, mating, and competing for locations to lay their eggs takes its toll. And when it is all over, the adult population wither away and die.

PREVIOUS PAGE: A group of male Australian giant cuttlefish. THIS PAGE: A diver observes competitive behaviour between males.

“The Australian giant cuttlefish aggregation in the shallow waters of South Australia’s Upper Spencer Gulf truly is one of nature's great events.”

Aerial view of the Spencer Gulf.

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The female ultimately decides which males get the chance to mate. She communicates with a visual display to ward off any males she finds unappealing and when a more attractive suitor approaches, she switches off the warning signal to encourage the potential mate to approach. The cuttlefish skin is an amazing communication system, highly developed, using elastic pigment sacs called chromatophores. They can match colours and surface textures of their surrounding environments by adjusting the pigment and iridescence of their skin, often using this adaptive camouflage to blend in with their surroundings and avoid predators. Males will flare their arms and inflate themselves or stretch to the limit to demonstrate who is the biggest and more robust mate. A line of suitors will hover in the background, waiting for a chance to mate with the female. The smaller males often camouflage themselves as females to sneak past the bull males that guard the female. These smaller males are referred to as ‘sneakers’. They adopt an alternate strategy, masquerading as an unreceptive female by modifying their colour, pattern, and behaviour to sneak past the unsuspecting male that is busy fending off other suitors. Apart from the larger size of adult bull males, it is difficult to distinguish a male from a female. Fights often break out between males if the posturing fails to demonstrate clear superiority. They latch on to each other twisting and turning, entangling their tentacles until a release of ink signals defeat and the loser flees the scene. Most males bear battle scars, and some are missing an arm or multiple tentacles. Mating and defending a female is exhausting and inevitably a contributing factor of the deterioration of the Australian giant cuttlefish at the end of the annual aggregation. The species' lifespan is only around two years and the instinct to mate is in their DNA. This is the one and only chance for these endemic invertebrates to perpetuate the species. An unsuccessful mating season can have devastating impacts on the population, which was the case in 2013. The year saw a devastating crash in the population which prompted the Department of 44

“The cuttlefish skin is an amazing communication system, highly developed, using elastic pigment sacs called chromatophores. They can match colours and surface textures of their surrounding environments by adjusting the pigment and iridescence of their skin.”

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An Australian giant cuttlefish hovers in the water column, a sunburst accentuating its features.

Oceanographic Issue 21

A large bull male hides a female from a group of potential suitors.

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TOP: Australian giant cuttlefish can change the pigment in their skin as well as the texture. BOTTOM: A raft of eggs secured beneath a ledge in the shallow waters of the Spencer Gulf.

Primary Industries and Regions South Australia (PIRSA) in consultation with the South Australian Research Development Institute (SARDI) to introduce a five-year ban on catching cuttlefish in the Upper Spencer Gulf. It wasn’t long before the population numbers started to increase. The SARDI surveys recorded population counts of 57,317 in 2014 and 130,771 in 2015, offering an early indication the ban was working. After five years, the population saw a substantial recovery but unfortunately PIRSA and former Minister Tim Whetstone lifted the fishing ban in 2020, just before the mating season began. The impact of this action is yet to be measured, but a year on the cuttlefish season is once again in the spotlight. Tony Bramley, dive shop owner and advocate for the protection of the cuttlefish, has been a voice for these vulnerable creatures for more than a decade. “There is nothing like this in the world, and we are privileged to have this world class marine attraction on our doorstep,” he says. “The impact of lifting the ban in 2020 may not be [fully understood] until we get the scientific data, but its impact will certainly be felt [in the long term] if the government makes decisions without listening to the science.” The annual survey conducted by SARDI in June 2020 to coincide with the peak spawning period, found numbers had more than doubled from 2019, with the population size estimated at 247,146. Bramley says: “The 2020 season was our best yet and saw the largest annual increase we have seen in years. But this year it seemed like the numbers had dropped again”. Unfortunately, SARDI has not conducted their annual survey in 2021, which means there will be no measurable comparison this year. Tourism has become a major part of local life, playing an increasingly important role in Whyalla's community and culture. A cuttlefish festival, CuttleFest, is now an annual fixture, celebrating each year's return of the cuttlefish and highlighting the importance of the species as a part of the local ecosystem and local life. The aggregation has become one of the season’s largest dive events and attracts media coverage across the country. The event is one of education, science, exploration, and festivity, encouraging people of all ages to celebrate these amazing creatures and this one-of-a-kind natural event. Carl Charter, co-founder of EMS (Experiencing Marine Sanctuaries), a non-profit organisation that runs annual trips to Whyalla to educate people about the cuttlefish and build awareness through direct interaction with the species, founded CuttleFest in 2016

“The annual survey conducted by SARDI in June 2020 to coincide with the peak spawning period, found numbers had more than doubled from 2019, with the population size estimated at 247,146.”

in collaboration with National Parks and Wildlife Service (NPWS). “CuttleFest has put Whyalla and the Australian giant cuttlefish breeding aggregation ‘on the map’, not only in Australia but internationally with media across the planet covering the cuttlefish aggregation,” says Charter. The EMS Education Program empowers schools and communities by providing hands-on ‘in-water’ experiences in the ocean. “This year we had a record number of participants, more than 800 people over two and half weeks,” Charter explains. It is initiatives like this and support from community members that continue to raise awareness of the pressures of fishing the Australian giant cuttlefish during their breeding aggregation. Like many marine creatures, cuttlefish are vulnerable to environmental changes. Pollution, loss of habitat as well as reduction of food sources contributes to the pressure put on this species. If it were not for the tremendous efforts of local Whyalla divers such as Tony Bramley, who continue to support and raise awareness, this story could be different. However, following the lifting of the fishing ban that allowed Whyalla's giant cuttlefish population to bounce back from the brink of collapse just a few short years ago, the species' future is once again uncertain – an astonishing scenario given the scale and uniqueness of this aggregation, as well as the revenue-generating possibilities for the region's tourism industry. Government protections are not forthcoming, despite continued petitioning.

Oceanographic Issue 21

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Behind the lens I N A S S O C I AT I O N W I T H

20 21 THE WINNERS Behind the lens places a spotlight on the world’s foremost ocean conservation photographers. Each edition focusses on the work of an individual who continues to shape global public opinion through powerful imagery and compelling storytelling.

BEHIND THE LENS

Winner: Ocean Photographer of the Year

2nd place: Ocean Photographer of the Year

3rd place: Ocean Photographer of the Year

Winner: Female Fifty Fathoms Award

A I M EE J A N W ES T E R N AU S T R A L I A A green turtle, surrounded by glass fish, one of four turtle species found on Ningaloo Reef, the world’s largest fringing reef.

HE NL E Y SPIE RS UK Gannets torpedo into the sea at speeds of up to 60mph as they dive for food off the Isle of Noss, Shetland.

M ATTY S M ITH PA P UA N E W G U I N E A A hawksbill turtle hatchling, just 3.5cm long, takes its first swim off Lissenung Island.

R ENEE CA PO Z Z O LA FR ENCH PO LYNES IA A lone blacktip reef shark lines up its dorsal fin with the setting sun in Mo’orea.

Winner: Conservation Photographer of the Year

Winner: Exploration Photographer of the Year

Winner: Adventure Photographer of the Year

Winner: Young Photographer of the Year

K ER I M S A B U N C U O G L U TURKEY A dead moray eel on an abandoned fishing line. Having bitten on to a sharp hook, the eel entangled itself further as it tried to wriggle free.

MARTIN BROEN ME XIC O Speleothems cast long shadows at cenote Dos Pisos; a unique environment that took thousands of years to form,

B EN THO UA R D FRENCH POLYNESIA A slow shutter speed creates the motion blur effect as Matahi Drollet catches a wave known as Teahupo´o in Tahiti.

HA NNA H LE LEU AUSTRALIA A green sea turtle hatchling cautiously surfaces for air, to a sky full of hungry birds off Heron Island.

Winner: Community Choice Award

3rd place: Conservation Photographer of the Year

Winner: Collective Portfolio Award

3rd place: Adventure Photographer of the Year

P HI L D E G L A N V I L L E W E S T E R N AU S T R A L I A Surfer Jack Robinson rides the famous break known as ‘The Right’ in Denmark, home to some of the heaviest waves in the world.

STE V E N KOVAC S PHIL IPPINE S The unusual sight of a female paper nautilus drifting along on a piece of trash in Anilao.

S TEFA N CHR IS TM A NN A NTA R CTICA A returning female calling for her mate upon her arrival at the emperor penguin colony in Atka Bay.

S EB A S TIEN PO NTO IZ EAU R ÉUNIO N IS LA ND A freediver duck dives to capture a photograph of a humpback whale.

Finalist: Conservation Photographer of the Year

Finalist: Collective Portfolio Award

Finalist: Adventure Photographer of the Year

T HI EN N G U Y E N N G O C VI ET N A M Anchovy fishing boats photographed from above along the coastline of Phu Yen province.

GAL IC E HOARAU U SA Snooty the lemon shark, Jupiter, Florida.

G ER G O R UG LI AUSTRALIA A common dolphin photographed in the Port Stephens Marine Park off Broughton Island.

TANYA HOUPPERMANS CUB A An American crocodile glides through the water at sunset at Gardens of the Queen, a protected marine reserve since 1996.

Behind the lens This issue's Behind the lens showcases 16 images from this year's Ocean Photography Awards. You can see more than 100 of our finalist images at www.oceanphotographyawards.com. The limited edition hard-backed book 'Ocean Photography Awards: Edition 2021' w i l l a l s o b e a v ailab le later this y ear.

Oceanographic Issue 21

Explore new perspectives Paralenz Vaquita and Third Person Viewer Record yourself from behind or get even closer to marine life. Attach the unique Third Person Viewer to your Paralenz Vaquita and do both. Learn more at paralenz.com

Oceanographic Issue 21

BEHIND THE LENS

Oceanographic Issue 21

BEHIND THE LENS

W O R L D ´ S G R E AT E S T

whale show For hundreds of humpback whales in the Gulf of Maine, life depends on one tiny fish: the sand lance.

Wo rd s b y C h e r y l Ly n D y b a s

Oceanographic Issue 21

F E AT U R E

“Suddenly, it twirls up and out of the sea, pirouettes in a full breach, and sprays sparkling water droplets in all compass directions before slipping beneath the waves.”

Oceanographic Issue 21

F E AT U R E

ummer solstice. Since prehistory, the date has been significant to cultures around the world. It’s no less so to the humpback whales of Stellwagen Bank, 50 miles north of Chatham, Massachusetts, in the Atlantic Ocean’s Gulf of Maine. As the sun rises over a still June sea, the underwater bank hosts a promenade of humpback, finback and minke whales. A whale solstice is celebrated with a feast of tiny fish called sand lance, abundant in the region at this time of year. Humpback fins and tails break the ocean’s surface on all sides of the 15-metre research vessel Auk. Aboard the ship, an audience with front row seats watches more than 30 humpback whales perform a ballet. A calf born this year peacefully swims alongside its mother. Suddenly, it twirls up and out of the sea, pirouettes in a full breach, and sprays sparkling water droplets in all compass directions before slipping beneath the waves. Humpbacks are baleen whales that filter-feed with ‘strainers’ made of keratin inside their huge mouths. Adults are between 12 and 16 metres long, and weigh about 36,000 kilogrammes. They have distinctive body shapes, with long pectoral fins and knobby heads. Males ‘sing’ complex songs lasting 10 to 20 minutes, which they repeat, sometimes for hours. The whale music may have a role in mating. Found in oceans around the world, humpback whales migrate up to 25,000 kilometres each year. Humpbacks feed in summer when they’re in northern waters like the Gulf of Maine, then migrate to tropical or subtropical waters to breed and give birth in winter when they live on fat reserves. What are humpbacks eating – and how do they get enough of it – to tide them over until the following summer? On Stellwagen Bank, the answer lies in a cloud of bubbles and countless tiny fish. Auk serves as the mother ship of two smaller watercraft, the rigid-hulled inflatable boats (RHIBs) Balena and Luna. Balena ferries biologists to the centre of a whale pod. There, in an attempt to place a tracking tag on a humpback, the researchers nose up to a whale whose flank, where the tag will be placed, is exposed. Called a digital tag, or DTAG, it’s attached with a suction cup. This acoustic recording tag provides data on the whale’s orientation (pitch, roll and heading) and depth - 50 times per second. “The DTAG also records all sounds made and heard by the tagged whale,” says Dave Wiley, a cetacean biologist and research director at the Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary. Visualisation software called TrackPlot provides fine-scale information on the behaviour of the whale, including how, when and where it feeds. DTAGs remain on whales anywhere from minutes to hours. “After they fall off, they’re retrieved from the PREVIOUS: Humpbacks exhale together underwater; their bubble ring turns into a fish net. (NOAA/NEFSC/Allison Henry/ MMPA research permit #17355.) THIS PAGE: Researchers get a very close look at a breaching humpback. (NMFS Permit 17355-01.)

Oceanographic Issue 21

Two open-mouthed humpbacks emerge through a bubble net; plucky seabirds snatch fish meals. (NOAA Permit #981-1707.)

ocean, the data they’ve collected are downloaded, and the tags are ready for redeployment on other whales,” explains Wiley. The scientists are also using suction-cup-attached tags called CATS, for customised animal tracking solutions. CATS tags carry two video cameras, along with accelerometers, gyroscopes, and sensors to monitor temperature, light and other variables. They observe the mechanics of whale-feeding, as well as ‘see’ other humpbacks in the same area as a tagged whale. It’s important information, the researchers say, about marine mammals that until recently were on the US endangered species list, a result of overharvesting in whaling days. To look at how well the humpbacks off Massachusetts have recovered, Wiley takes the helm of the Balena. Balena is the tag boat; Luna is the chase boat that follows along, at-the-ready, to keep track of a whale after it’s tagged. Suddenly, a humpback surfaces near Balena’s starboard side. Balena is all-systems-go. Wiley steps to Balena’s gunwale and extends a 12-metre-long pole toward the whale; a CATS tag is mounted on its end. With luck, Wiley will be able to gently place the tag on the humpback. “We got it!” he yells as the whale disappears beneath the waves. Luna zooms along with this humpback while Balena searches for the next one. Soon another shiny black dorsal fin breaks the surface, followed by another just to its side: a mother and calf. Several mother-andcalf pairs are in the area, which may be a nursery. “Look at this place,” says Wiley as he half-turns from the wheel of the Balena, “whales, just everywhere.” Between June 17 and 29, 2019, the researchers tagged 28 humpbacks, as well as two fin whales. “Many of the humpback tags stayed on for 24 hours or more, giving us a lot of new data to analyse,” Wiley says. The scientists estimate there are 900 humpbacks in the Gulf of Maine, with the population increasing each year. “They’ll stick around until late fall or early winter, then head south to their breeding grounds,” says Wiley. “What they feed on here will sustain them the entire time they’re in the Caribbean.” Stellwagen Bank, with its sandy bottom and relatively shallow waters, is prime habitat for fish called sand lance. The bank’s sand lance, which travel in huge schools reaching the tens of thousands, offer the whales high-calorie meals. In one day, a whale might eat a ton of the fish. At night, sand lance tunnel into sandy sediments or form schools close to the seafloor. During the day, the fish often swim in dense mats along the seabed. Where sand lance are found in the Gulf of Maine, so, too, humpbacks can be found. “Whales, seabirds like shearwaters, pretty much anything looking for a meal here is feeding on these fish,” says Wiley. “We’re starting to understand that on Stellwagen Bank, it all depends on sand lance.” More than 70 species rely on the tiny fish as prey, according to Michelle Staudinger of the Northeast Climate Adaptation Science Center at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. She and colleagues, including Wiley, recently published a paper in the journal Fish and Fisheries that documents the dependence of myriad species – from bluefin tuna to Atlantic cod, roseate terns to Atlantic puffins to humpback whales – on sand lance. To track the fish, Wiley and crew use a seabed observation system known as the SEABOSS, or SEABed Observation and Sampling System. This boxy eye-in-the-sea allows researchers to collect sediment samples and obtain videos of sand lance seafloor hangouts, according to Mike Thompson, a GIS expert at Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary. Sand lance surveys are conducted at 44 stations on or near Stellwagen Bank at various times of year,

F E AT U R E

TOP: Scientists slowly approach a humpback whale to place a tracking tag on it. (NOAA Permit #14809.) MIDDLE: The research team uses benign suction cups to keep tracking tags attached to the whales. (NOAA Permit #14245.) BOTTOM: Emerging from the depths, a humpback named Tectonic scoops up countless sand lance. (NOAA Permit #981-1707.)

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“When the humpbacks return each spring, will they find enough food to keep them going through the next breeding season? 'The whales’ fate', says Wiley, 'hinges on one small fish.'”

Thompson says, including about a month before the whale research cruise each June. Fish communities on Stellwagen Bank have changed substantially over the past decade, according to marine scientists Peter Auster of the Mystic Aquarium and Christian Conroy of the University of Connecticut. A 2019 report they co-authored, Time-Series Patterns of Species Richness, Diversity, and Community Composition of Fishes at Stellwagen Bank National Marine Sanctuary, details species shifts that began in the early 1980s. Those years ushered in a two-decade period of steadily rising sea surface temperatures. Waters across the Northeast US continental shelf warmed at a rate three times the global average. In response, many species in the Gulf of Maine moved to greater depths. For some species, however, such as sand lance, deeper realms may not offer the right habitat. Sand lance rely on sand or fine gravel, which makes up most of the bottom in Stellwagen Bank’s shallows but is not as common in the deeps. “The relatively minimal number of sand lance collected in trawl surveys conducted since 2010 may reflect, in part, the results of this squeeze between warming waters and preferred habitat,” state Auster and Conroy. Indeed, sand lance seem to change location each year, taking the whales with them. Although the June research cruise was scheduled to depart from Provincetown, the sand lance – and the whales – took up residence off a different Cape Cod port, Chatham. To keep up with the shifting scene, the scientists moved the Auk from its berth in Provincetown to a dock in Chatham. “We may be all about whales,” says Wiley, “but they’re all about sand lance. So we look at where sand lance are concentrated.” To catch sand lance on Stellwagen, humpback whales engage in bubble-netting, a recently discovered means of feeding on small fish. One or more whales sound, or dive, then exhale together underwater. When their bubbles reach the surface, they form a large ring with seafoam in the center. The bubble ring becomes a net, trapping countless sand lance. Seconds later, one – then several – whales surface in the ring’s centre, huge baleen-lined mouths open, straining the water, or dragging, as marine biologists call it, for sand lance. “Humpbacks have large flukes relative to their size, providing thrust for quick manoeuvres,” says Wiley. “Other baleen whales feed by rapidly swimming forward,

but humpbacks are adapted for fine-scale movements that allow them to create bubble nets.” Humpbacks release the bubbles while swimming in upward spirals, often during a behaviour called double loops. Double loops start with an ascending spiral to corral fish, followed by a smack of a fluke on the ocean surface and a second upward lunge to capture the corralled prey. The whales work in teams of two to ten or more, emerging at the ocean surface in a boiling cauldron of open mouths. “The sequence is as complex as the tool use of apes in the forest,” says Wiley. Further research has uncovered other new-to-science whale feeding behaviours such as bottom side-rolls and repetitive scooping. Humpbacks repeatedly dive to the sea floor, roll onto their sides, tilt their heads down, open their mouths and expand their throat pleats. They then swim along the bottom, funnelling in sand lance. In low light conditions such as those on the seafloor, humpbacks produce what scientists call a paired burst sound like the tick-tock of a clock. Stellwagen Bank humpbacks “often feed on the seafloor in close coordination, showing tight synchrony in diving and bottom behaviours,” says Wiley. The paired burst sound, the researchers believe, may signal the locations of sand lance to other whales and roust the small fish out of their seafloor burrows – and into hungry humpbacks’ waiting mouths. “These feeding techniques result in extremely efficient fish-catching,” Wiley says. One whale the scientists observed netted 10-17 scoops of fish per dive. In the summer of 2018, Wiley's colleagues at Cape Cod's Center for Coastal Studies (CCS) placed a different kind of tag, a satellite tag, on 15 humpback whales; a whale named Bounce was one of them. After Bounce was tagged in July, she ranged widely in Gulf of Maine feeding grounds. She spent Christmas Day and New Year’s Day foraging east of Cape Cod, then began her southbound migration to the Caribbean on January 9, 2019. After a journey of almost 1,500 nautical miles, Bounce arrived at the humpback breeding range off the Dominican Republic on January 25. It was the first southbound humpback whale migration tracked in real-time from the Gulf of Maine. Bounce’s tag stopped transmitting on February 11 near a location called Silver Bank. The tag may have been dislodged while Bounce was on the breeding grounds. On June 17th, a celebration: CCS scientists spotted Bounce in good condition in the Gulf of Maine. When the humpbacks return each spring, will they find enough food to keep them going through the next breeding season? “The whales’ fate”, says Wiley, “hinges on one small fish.” “The whale road, the ancient Anglo-Saxons called the ocean,” muses Wiley, “we need to protect the route for creatures that, long before us, made their way from the Gulf of Maine to the Caribbean and back again. They’re following,” he says, “the whale road of today.”

Oceanographic Issue 21

Column

By Hugo Tagholm

The ocean activist FIGHTING THE 'SECOND WAVE'

he perilous journey of water, from cloud to coastline, puts ocean lovers on the frontline of pollution. Even before water begins its terrestrial journey, it is suspected that clouds, snow and raindrops carry tiny fragments of microplastics. As water continues its journey from mountains to the sea, through what should be the blue capillaries, veins and arteries of any nation, it is exposed to a plethora of pollutants, from agriculture, manufacturers, urban environments, water companies, the medical industry and much more. Runoff pours off fields, taking antibiotics, fertilizers and pesticides into precious rivers. Sewer systems spew out untreated sewage through a network of pipes, bringing microplastics, yet more antibiotics and potentially harmful pathogens. The detritus from urban society washes off streets to culverted rivers taking with it the packaging from everyday lives, the wear and tear of tyres, the oil and salt mixed into a shining gleam. This cocktail of pollutants heads down increasingly engineered rivers, decimating habitats, altering chemistry, expunging oxygen and creating a wholly degraded ecosystem, where both wildlife and people struggle to thrive. As polluted rivers meet the ocean they disgorge their volatile mixture into the spaces we love and fight hard to conserve. The beach and coastline are both the frontline of ocean recreation but also ocean campaigning. It is there that most of us enjoy the wonders of the big blue. It is also there that we witness the impacts on the marine environment. The tidelines of plastic pollution. The sewage pollution. The chemicals. The washed-up wildlife. This is where many ocean campaigners begin their journey, tracing the source of the pollution, identifying the culprit. Often, these are upstream, sometimes out to sea. But all are contributing to degrading the water cycle, of which the ocean is centre. This is where Surfers Against Sewage began our campaign in 1990, as surfers became sick of becoming sick from simply going surfing on the coast of Cornwall. This experience sparked a national campaign to mobilise citizens, challenge government and confront industry. In the 1970s and 80s the UK was often described as the Dirty Man of Europe for its unilateral failure to control sewage and agricultural pollution of rivers and seas, and all manner of other pollutants

that were being spewed out into the environment by industry, power stations and vehicles. Our beaches bore the brunt of this environmental negligence, with sewage-filled seas and coastlines strewn with sanitary waste. For a country famed for our maritime history and seaside holidays, this treatment of our blue spaces was tantamount to environmental vandalism. Surfers Against Sewage swiftly became high profile eco-activists, clad in wetsuits and gasmasks, carrying surfboards into boardrooms and political meetings that still barely knew you could even surf in the UK, let alone get sick whilst doing it. The charity became a catalyst for change, highlighting the need for faster sewerage infrastructure investment, collating health evidence from ‘contaminated’ water users and connecting previously disparate coastal communities into what became one of the best-recognised environmental campaign movements of the 1990s. We are extremely proud of those early campaigns and the progress they helped deliver for our coastline against that 'first wave' of sewage pollution. We are now in the midst of a 'second wave' of sewage and agricultural pollution that means the UK languishes at the bottom of the table of Bathing Water Quality for European countries. Last year our beaches suffered over 2,500 separate sewage pollution events at designated Bathing Waters and Blue Flag Beaches alone. Who knows how many spills there were across the rest of the UK's 11,000 miles of coastline? Our river network, now used by so many for wild swimming, recreation and enjoyment, bore the brunt of the pollution. A staggering 400,000 separate pollution events discharging a horrendous 3.1 million hours of raw sewage into the blue arteries of the country. Many of these also flow onto the beaches that we all want to enjoy at this time of year. Shockingly, just 14% of our rivers meet Good Ecological Status and none meet Good Chemical Status. Surfers and water users are again on the frontline. Alongside agriculture, our privatised water companies, have squarely positioned the UK to reclaim the title of the Dirty Man of Europe. Environmental regulators have also been woefully underfunded, limiting or removing their ability to hold these repeat polluters to account. These huge monopolies operate with near impunity and even

Oceanographic Issue 21

@hugotagholm

@hugoSAS

About Hugo Hugo leads the national marine conservation and campaigning charity Surfers Against Sewage. He is part of the Edinburgh University Ocean Leaders programme and was awarded an Honorary Doctorate of Science by Exeter University for his services to the marine environment.

when they are investigated and fined, they simply build the costs into their books rather than engage with long-term reform. All this at a time of climate and ecological emergency. We need a decade of radical change for our rivers and coastline. Just imagine what this could deliver - thriving rivers for nature and people; pristine, clean beaches, teeming with life and underpinning the health and wellbeing of

communities nationwide; and an end to industry treating our rivers and ocean as a dumping ground for their waste. If governments are serious about protecting the environment, they should get serious about restoring the health of all our blue spaces. Ocean users, campaigners and citizen scientists at the frontline of our beaches must continue to expose the issues affecting our most precious liquid. HT

“We are now in the midst of a 'second wave' of sewage and agricultural pollution that means the UK languishes at the bottom of the table of Bathing Water Quality.”

Surfers Against Sewage campaigners in Brighton, UK.

Oceanographic Issue 21

BEHIND THE LENS

Oceanographic Issue 21

BEHIND THE LENS

Coral reef restoration LITTLE BY LITTLE In Florida, Coral Restoration Foundation™ is tackling the seemingly impossible task of restoring an entire ecosystem. Alexander Neufeld, the organisation’s Photomosaics and Technology Coordinator, reveals what hurricanes, coral restoration and cameras have in common. Wo rd s b y A l e x a n d e r N e u f e l d P h o t o g ra p h s b y C o ra l R e s t o ra t i o n Fo u n d a t i o n™

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bout half an hour south of Miami International Airport, the bustling Ronald Reagan Turnpike merges with US Highway 1 and southbound travellers enter ‘The Stretch’. For the next 18 miles, you hardly even need to touch the steering wheel, as you traverse the sea of grass at the boundary of Everglades National Park. This part of the highway spans the last bit of continental United States before you enter the Florida Keys, a string of islands that run southwest towards the country’s southernmost point of Key West. It was New Year’s Day in 2016 when I drove The Stretch for the first time. As midnight approached, I was wrapping up my 24th hour of driving, a two-day trek from my hometown of Goshen, Indiana to Key Largo, Florida. My front passenger seat slowly accumulated granola bar wrappers and empty energy bottles. My backseat and trunk were stuffed with all of my worldly possessions (not much, admittedly, for this recent college grad) and my pet salamander, Hades. It was pitch black (to this day The Stretch still has almost no streetlights) so all I saw was a lane line that marked an unsettlingly narrow highway shoulder. I made this first of what would be many trips across The Stretch to begin a four-month internship with Coral Restoration Foundation™ (CRF), a marine conservation non-profit headquartered in Key Largo. By the time I arrived at CRF, the organisation had already been around for over a decade, but was on the cusp of a massive growth spurt. CRF’s core work involves growing endangered species of Caribbean coral – primarily the branching species staghorn and elkhorn – in offshore nurseries and then ‘outplanting’ these coral colonies to degraded reef sites throughout the Keys once they reach maturity. Conceptually, there is nothing new about this. Aquarists have been fragmenting and growing clonal coral colonies for decades. Scientific studies have consistently shown coral outplanting to be an effective way of safely reintroducing individual colonies to wild reefs. But by 2016, it was the scale at which CRF was beginning to operate that was revolutionary. So how did my corn fields of northern Indiana turn into a tropical scuba diving destination at the edge of the country? When I declared my biology major and enrolled at Indiana University, I was dead-set on graduate school and academic research, or maybe even medicine. But what I stumbled upon during my freshman year was a fully-formed academic diving and underwater science programme, a ‘scuba oasis’ at the centre of the Midwest. I took my first course, which provided me with my Open Water Diver certification, and then I took another course, and then another, and then another… PREVIOUS: The CRF's Tavernier Coral Tree™ Nursery is the largest coral nursery in the world. With around 500 Coral Trees, the nursery covers an acre and a half of sea floor and is capable of producing more than 35,000 reef-ready corals every year. It is one of seven coral nurseries the Foundation manages. RIGHT: Staghorn corals are being returned to the iconic Carysfort Reef in the Florida Keys.

“And on top of those spurs, nothing remained. No sea fans, no sponges, and none of the thousands of staghorn corals that had grown into thickets during years of CRF™ restoration work.”

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“Coral reef restoration is the same. It feels daunting, but the only way to begin making progress is if a bunch of people do a bunch of little things.”

By the time I graduated, I had college credits from classes like ‘Rescue Diver’ and ‘Professional Diver Development’, as well as field courses in Grand Cayman and the Dominican Republic. And somewhere in the middle of all this, I realised that academia – with its jargon, its graphs, and its ‘statistical soup’ – was insufficient for properly communicating the science I was now doing to anyone who would never don a wetsuit or inflate a BCD. So I dropped my tiny point-and-shoot camera into a dive housing and started documenting everything. Bingo. My eyes had been opened to the world of underwater photography. After my CRF internship ended, I assumed a new, full-time position with the organisation, managing field data for what had become the largest coral growing and outplanting effort anywhere in the world. By this point in time, CRF’s largest in-situ nursery housed over 40,000 colonies of endangered corals, and we were outplanting over 15,000 colonies annually. At this stage I had become the in-house cameraman at CRF, and this opportunity to demonstrate to the world the daily impacts of our organisation was a point of immense personal pride. But then suddenly everything changed. I had to leave the Keys, along with most of my fellow residents. On September 10, 2017, Hurricane Irma made landfall about 20 miles east of Key West, the first major hurricane to strike Florida since 2004. I evacuated back to my family’s home in Indiana but as a Keys resident, I was eventually given permission to re-enter following several weeks of emergency cleanup and aid. I crossed The Stretch to see for myself what locals were already calling ‘Irmageddon’. Telephone poles and power lines were still down along the highway. The massive Publix grocery store sign in Key Largo lay in a crumpled heap of metal and plastic. Jet skis were washed up hundreds of feet into the mangroves and I vividly recall driving past a three-story house that had collapsed upon itself and sunk into the ground. When I eventually got out to the reefs, the scene was just as devastating. One of CRF’s longest-running restoration sites, an area on Pickles Reef, had been decimated by the storm’s wave energy. A full two feet of sand had been swept from the channels of the reef, marked by the exposed line of clean rock at the base of the reef spurs. And on top of those spurs, nothing remained. No sea fans, no sponges, and none of the

thousands of staghorn corals that had grown into thickets during years of CRF restoration work. Surveys of our other restoration sites revealed similar patterns of loss. One weekend, the CRF team drove south from Key Largo to aid in a cleanup event taking place in a neighbourhood on Cudjoe Key, where Irma landed. This cleanup was a very different kind of restoration work than what our typical day-to-day involved, but it was still restoration. And over the course of that day and the months of rebuilding the Keys that followed, I came to develop a ‘philosophy’, applicable to both hurricane and coral restoration. On Cudjoe Key, the scale of destruction was overwhelming. Where do you even start with this scale of work? How do you keep from succumbing to hopelessness? The question is exactly the same in coral reef restoration. For decades now, corals around the world have been steadily dying, leaving empty reef crests devoid of habitat for animals, without the capacity to mitigate the power of storms like Irma, and without any way to naturally return to the diverse and complex biome they used to be. So how can you possibly begin to restore an entire global ecosystem? Just like with a hurricane cleanup, you start by doing one little thing to help. Sweep the sand out of a house. Pick up those roof shingles and stack them out of the way. Grab a sponge and start scrubbing the mould from the walls of a bedroom. Find one little thing that needs to be done and then do as many more little things as you possibly can. Keep the needle moving in the positive direction, always. And then get as many people as possible to do as many little things as they possibly can and the needle can move further and further. Coral reef restoration is the same. It feels daunting, but the only way to begin making progress is if a bunch of people do a bunch of little things. Planting individual corals one by one on a reef tract hundreds of miles long may not feel like a lot, but it’s adding up – to the tune of 35,000 CRF outplants in 2020 alone. CRF has now returned more corals to the reef since the hurricane than we did in all the years prior to the storm. We have restored over 17,500 square metres of Florida’s coral reef, rehoming more than 140,000 corals in the wild. Skipping plastic bags or refusing single-use items may seem inconsequential, but those are the bags that aren’t winding up in a landfill or

Oceanographic Issue 21

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TOP: CRF divers at work in the Tavernier Coral Tree Nursery - the largest coral nursery in the world. BOTTOM: Coral Restoration Foundation divers working on a restoration site in the Florida Keys.

Oceanographic Issue 21

A healthy thicket of staghorn coral thriving at Carysfort Reef in the Florida Keys.

F E AT U R E

“We have restored over 17,500 square metres of Florida’s Coral Reef, rehoming more than 140,000 corals in the wild.”

drift in the ocean. Positive changes, even the smallest ones, yield positive results. Just one month prior to Hurricane Irma’s arrival, I had begun developing a new photography project for CRF. Building on work I’d been introduced to in college, I started creating a ‘photomosaic programme’ for CRF’s restoration sites. Photomosaics are single, high-resolution images that are digitally stitched together from hundreds or thousands of smaller photographs. As a result, they offer a bird’s eye (or, fish eye?) view of an entire reef community. The very first mosaics of coral restoration I created were at Pickles Reef. After Irma, I re-mosaicked the same areas. The contrast was visceral. As sickening as it was to visit the Pickles site again, a lightbulb had gone off in my head, just as it had when I first started doing underwater science photography in college. If CRF could document the inverse of what I’d just seen at Pickles – a barren reefscape becoming lush with coral from restoration efforts – then photomosaics would be the perfect way to communicate this work to the public. For the past few years, CRF has continued to grow and invest in our photomosaic programme, which now photographs and analyses over 50,000 square metres of Florida reef annually and constitutes the main component of our Science and Monitoring Programme. But there is still work to be done, work that gets more people involved in doing those little positive things to push the coral restoration needle. On any given summer weekend, hundreds or perhaps thousands of visitors to the Keys cross The Stretch for the first time, making the same drive I made almost six years ago. They come to enjoy the sunshine and the casual island life, but more than anything they come for the ocean and for the reef. And while they’re here, CRF works to promote opportunities for our visitors to do those little things and help push the needle in a positive direction. Of these opportunities, perhaps the most impactful to me personally, is offered through our partnership with Paralenz, a Danish underwater camera company that is working with us to crowdsource photos and videos taken by divers and snorkellers in the Florida Keys. Paralenz cameras are now available to rent in many dive shops in the Keys and renters have the option to share footage taken from dive trips to the Keys’ reefs with CRF. This footage can provide our team with more regular visual updates from more reef sites than we would ever be able to manage ourselves – an effective citizen science program built into a visiting diver’s daily itinerary. And here we find a merger of my two favourite conservation concepts: photography that can contribute to science and to effective scientific communication, combined with a way to involve more people in doing more positive little things. Though I am acutely aware of the uphill struggle facing coral reefs and their chances for restoration, I cannot help but remain optimistic, given what I know about the power of photography and the abilities of large groups of dedicated people, making their positive impacts, little by little.

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WALKING

sharks On the east coast of Australia, within the Great Barrier Reef, lives the world’s only ‘walking’ shark. The species might provide important answers on how sharks deal with climate change. Wo rd s b y C a ro l y n Wh e e l e r a n d J o d i e R u m m e r P h o t o g ra p h s b y K r i s t i a n L a i n e , J o h n n y G a s ke l l , Emily Moothart and Jodie Rummer

Oceanographic Issue 21

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harks are one of the most threatened groups of vertebrates on the planet. Overexploitation from fisheries, in combination with their slow growth and reproductive strategies put many of these species at risk. Declines in shark populations may already be further compounded by climate change, which will continue into the future. We expect major increases in water temperature and ocean acidity and decreases in dissolved oxygen over the next century, which may challenge the survival of sharks. To date, the effects of climate change on sharks have only been studied on a handful of the more than 1,200 species of sharks and their relatives. However, one species that has been the centre of much of this research, is the epaulette shark. Epaulette sharks are a small bottom-dwelling species only found within the Great Barrier Reef on the east coast of Australia. Aptly nicknamed the walking shark, this species uses modified pectoral fins to voluntarily walk out of the water. During low tides, particularly at night, epaulette sharks ‘walk’ between isolated tidal pools, where they hunt for prey like small crustaceans and worms. They are able to walk because their pectoral fins are slightly modified when compared to other sharks or other fishes. Epaulette sharks also possess a unique physiology that allows them to live in low oxygen environments – such as those that might be associated with isolated tidal pools – for long periods of time. This important trait was only discovered in epaulette sharks during the late 1990s. The species can live in near zero oxygen levels for around four hours, a time period that rivals even the most tolerant vertebrate species. Comparatively, the world record for a human breath-hold is 11 minutes. Although this unique trait was initially investigated to help understand human health issues such as interrupted blood flow and oxygen supply better, this special trait has also made the epaulette shark the focus of research related to climate change adaptations. How and why is this species able to survive such seemingly inconceivable conditions? And how might this trait help epaulette sharks and other closely related sharks survive and thrive in rapidly changing oceans? Beyond their unique physiology, epaulette sharks are one of approximately 400 species of sharks and skates that reproduce by laying eggs. These eggs, often called mermaid’s purses, consist of a tough, fibrous capsule that encloses the embryo and attached yolk. Female epaulette sharks lay eggs in pairs every few weeks PREVIOUS PAGE: Adult epaulette shark in the shallow reef flats. THIS PAGE: Adult epaulette shark hunting at sunset.

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during their reproductive season; however, once eggs are laid on the reef, the developing embryos receive no maternal care and have very little protection beyond the egg case during the four months until hatching. The early developmental stages of any species represent a vulnerable time. Embryos may not have fully formed organs and physiological systems to cope with extreme changes in their environment. To make matters worse, unlike adults, embryos developing in eggs cannot relocate to better conditions if they need to. Therefore, they must endure whatever conditions their location faces. Indeed, early life stages of sharks that develop in eggs, may be some of the most vulnerable to shifting ocean conditions from climate change. A team of university honours, masters, and doctoral students and both Australian and international collaborators, led by Dr Jodie Rummer at James Cook University, has been investigating numerous aspects of epaulette shark embryos, juveniles, and adults since 2011 to assess the various effects of climate change. Because epaulette sharks lay eggs that develop externally from the female, the embryos make excellent models for understanding climate change effects on early development of sharks. In the laboratory, the embryos, whilst developing in the egg cases, are exposed to different climate change scenarios, such as increased ocean acidity (by increasing the amount of carbon dioxide or CO2 that is dissolved in the water) or increased water temperatures. The levels of these anthropogenic changes are chosen based on what is predicted to occur by the year 2150 or 2100 under different global emissions scenarios. Although the egg structure is thick, the egg case can be back-lit with a dim light so that the contents can be observed, monitored, and measured throughout development and whilst exposed to various conditions. Embryo length, size of the yolk, tail movements, and developmental milestones can all be measured several times per week and therefore monitored over time. Estimates can be made as to how quickly the embryo is growing and how quickly they are using their inegg nourishment – their yolk sac initially averages 30 millilitres which is as big as a table tennis ball! Physiological traits such as metabolism can be estimated over the course of development as well, which can indicate how efficiently the embryos are utilising energy. By using a technique called respirometry, the amount of oxygen that is up taken by an individual – essentially its breathing – can be measured. This rate can be used as a proxy for metabolic rate. Indeed, the energetic demands of an animal can change over development and especially under different conditions, such as those simulating ocean acidification or ocean warming. So far, it turns out that epaulette shark embryos are quite resilient to laboratory-simulated ocean acidification

Curled up epaulette shark, likely resting during the day.

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“Early life stages of sharks that develop in eggs, may be some of the most vulnerable to shifting ocean conditions from climate change.”

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“These findings in relation to temperature are alarming, as the temperatures tested in these studies are likely expected by the year 2100.”

TOP: Epaulette shark hatchling, likely less than a month old, in James Cook University laboratory in Australia. BOTTOM: Carolyn Wheeler, whilst beginning her PhD research investigating the effects of elevated temperatures on epaulette shark embryos and hatchlings at the Anderson Cabot Center for Ocean Life at the New England Aquarium, USA.

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Oceanographic Issue 15

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scenarios. Survival to hatching and growth rates are largely unaffected by elevated CO2. This is true for juveniles and adults as well, where experiments revealed no effects on metabolic performance, foraging for food, or sheltering behaviours under simulated ocean acidification conditions. However, these findings may not be surprising. Elevated CO2 in the water, especially in shallow reef crevices, happens in tandem with decreases in oxygen, and we already know that this species can endure those low oxygen periods without issue. So perhaps this species already possesses some of the key mechanisms that allow them to cope with challenging environmental conditions today… mechanisms that could also be important in the future as the global climate changes. However, temperature seems to be another story. When epaulette shark embryos are exposed to temperatures just 3-4 degrees Celsius warmer than their current summer high temperatures on the Great Barrier Reef, many aspects of their early growth and development are affected. Warm-reared embryos hatched at slightly smaller weights and several weeks faster than their control, current-day temperature counterparts, and upon hatch, they needed to feed more quickly. Also, upon hatch, warm-reared embryos exhibited altered colouration and patterning, which is usually quite distinct in this species. Such alterations could have negative implications in terms of camouflage and predator evasion in the wild. Warm-reared hatchlings also exhibit a reduced maximum metabolic rate, meaning that they do not take in as much oxygen when swimming compared to their control, current-day temperature counterparts. Our team is now investigating some of the ways in which elevated temperature affects adults, especially in terms of energy use, metabolic costs, and reproduction, which are key in ensuring the survival of this and other species. These findings in relation to temperature are alarming, as the temperatures tested in these studies are likely expected by the year 2100. It is also important to note that tropical species, like the epaulette shark, are thought to be less resilient to increased temperatures because they experience only a very narrow range of seasonal temperatures on an annual basis. If embryos are expected to survive elevated temperatures through to adulthood and then successfully reproduce as adults to secure a next generation, they will need to develop coping mechanisms, which would start in their DNA. Yet, sharks have a slow generational time, meaning they produce a small number of offspring – epaulette sharks produce only around 16 offspring per year and require anywhere from four to seven years to reach sexual maturity. It would take many generations to change the DNA or for the sharks to adapt, which may not be fast enough to keep pace with the rate at which the ocean is changing.

There have been some silver linings, however, such as how robust epaulette sharks are to low oxygen and elevated CO2 (ocean acidification) conditions. Moreover, ongoing research with our team has noted that, within the temperature range epaulette sharks currently experience in the wild, temperature does not seem to affect their metabolic rate on a day-to-day basis. Indeed, adult epaulette sharks already appear to be well-conditioned to cope with natural temperature fluctuations over a 24-hour period, which can be upwards of a 4-5 degrees Celsius change. On the reef flats off of Heron Island, an epaulette shark hot spot in the southern Great Barrier Reef, epaulette sharks do not exhibit behavioural thermoregulation. This means they do not move back and forth between warm and cool waters to save energy, at least not under current thermal regimes. For a reason still unknown to us, these resilient sharks would rather stay in place and endure less than ideal temperatures instead of searching for a better spot where temperatures might be more suitable. Perhaps this is part of their predator avoidance strategy. Epaulette sharks typically hide during the day, probably to avoid aerial predators like sea eagles and kites and in the shallows to avoid larger sharks. Furthermore, epaulette shark reproduction starts in the winter, peaks in the spring, and concludes in the summer. From simulations in the laboratory, we have found similar trends to wild sharks, where we are able to change female egg laying patterns by slowly changing the water temperature to simulate other seasons. Collectively, these research projects indicate that epaulette sharks interact with water temperature fluctuations differently across different life stages and time scales; such nuanced information will be key to this species’ survival through the Anthropocene. Epaulette sharks are one of, if not the most frequently studied shark species in the world, with nearly 40 published studies on the species to date. Since the 1990s, scientists have developed a strong understanding of their unique physiology and how they interact within the Great Barrier Reef ecosystem. However, scientists continue to research this shark, as they are small and readily adaptable to laboratory conditions and listed as of ‘Least Concern’ on the IUCN Red list. For these reasons we continue to assess the species under future conditions, allowing for predictions of changes not only for epaulette sharks but for other shark and skate species. The old adage is true; the more you study a topic, and in our case, a species, the more questions you develop. Despite being one of the most well-studied sharks, we still continue to learn new things about this species that changes our perspective on shark biology and conservation. And we hope to learn more about how this and other species will cope with climate change in the near future.

Oceanographic Issue 21

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