Well, Officer, We're Poaching!

The Washington State Fish and Wildlife game warden pulled up next to the boat. "Whatcha fishing for?" he asked.

"Bocaccio," Nick replied.

The game warden gave him a skeptical look, owing to the fact that Puget Sound bocaccio rockfish are an endangered species, totally off-limits to fishermen.

"And canary," Nick continued.

The canary rockfish, a lovely orange-creamsicle with scales, is listed as threatened in our area.

"Really," responded the game warden, not sure now whether he was kidding.

"Oh! and yelloweye," Nick finished, naming the third and final species of threatened rockfish in the Sound. [Click here to read about my impromptu beach necropsy of a dead yelloweye!]

The warden's eyes got wide as he began to believe Nick's story. I've caught the dumbest poachers in Washington State! he must have been thinking.

That's when Nick hit him with the final piece of information. "Oh, and we're with NOAA under a federal fisheries research permit."

Nick keeps the game warden on his toes.

Sadly, I was not present when this conversation took place. I've heard it retold by my NOAA Hollings Scholarship mentor, Nick, and I can only imagine that game warden's face. I was, however, lucky enough to accompany Nick and a band of dedicated local anglers on a similar mission.

Our goal was to obtain genetic samples of these three endangered species of rockfish to determine whether their south Puget Sound populations were distinct from their open coastal counterparts, as had been predicted when these populations were given endangered status, or if they moved and bred freely with coastal fishes.

The yelloweyes, canaries and bocaccios evaded us that day, but I proudly hauled up one brown rockfish, Sebastes auricuculatus.

My most exciting catch, the relatively common a brown rockfish.

We measured each fish before releasing it with a special weighted pressure-release clip that held the fish by its lower jaw without damaging it.

The rockfishes, used to being at depths of at least 100 feet, had a little expansion trouble at the surface. This one's stomach can be seen protruding from its mouth. The hope is that everything returns to its normal deflated state once the fish is released at depth.

The crew also caught two species of sculpin: a buffalo or Enophrys bison, shown here, and a red Irish lord or Hemilepidotus hemilepidotus, my personal favorite. I sure wish I could have magically shipped these guys back in time and space to Friday Harbor Labs, where my Puddle research crew could have studied the functional morphology of their jaw muscles!

A buffalo sculpin shows off his preopercular spines and makes cute little growling sounds.

But mostly we caught dogs. By which I mean sharks.

"I got a big one!!!"

A spiny dogfish, Squalus acanthias, to be exact.

Another dog!

Did I mention it was Shark Week?

We recorded the size and sex of each dogfish we caught, even though we weren't there for shark research. The day's motto: "Don't waste an opportunity to take data because you'll never know when you might need it!" I lost count around fifty. Next time you're trying to sex a shark, just remember:

A male spiny dogfish has two claspers, modified pelvic fins that transfer sperm to the female during sexual reproduction.

A female spiny dogfish has no claspers. 

Dude, that's private!

We also hooked some unexpected invertebrates...

Such as this scallop.

And this purple sea star, Pisaster ochraceus.

We didn't accomplish our goal of sampling endangered rockfish genetics, but we had a great time out on the water. There's no such thing as a bad day spent boating on the Puget Sound, sandwiched between silver water and pewter sky.

I think these gulls, hitching a leisurely ride on a barge of sand, would certainly agree.

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Canoe Clean-Up

What does your ideal Saturday morning look like? Homemade waffles in the kitchen? Cartoons on TV? Your warm bed until it's not morning anymore?

Mine looks like this:

Unloading canoes at a wildlife refuge near Wallula Gap.

Paddling canoes.

Picking cigarette butts out of river banks.

Eating tupperware lunches surreptitiously packed from the dining hall.

Sinking into mud.

Unwinding fishing line from bushes.

Rinsing mud out of old beer cans with river water.

Watching American white pelicans soar in fighter-jet formation.

Walking through knee-high water in hiking boots.

Startling great blue herons from their fishing spots.

And packing thirteen huge bags of trash and recycling (plus one enormous truck tire) into our trailer at the end of the day!

We removed thirteen huge bags of trash and recycling from the river.

Canoe Clean-Up is a Whitman Outdoor Program trip which packs out heaps of trash from a wildlife refuge near Wallula Gap, Washington every semester.

The most common items I found were plastic bottles, beer cans, cigarette butts, fishing line, bait containers, and candy wrappers.

We also saw lots of wildlife including schools of fry (juvenile fish), large black beetles, green spiders, blue dragonflies, mating damselflies, a croaking frog, great blue herons, northern flickers, black-billed magpies, a red-tailed hawk, a clear-breasted sparrow, great egrets, American white pelicans, and gulls with black wing-tips (probably California?)

The Canoe Clean-Up Crew in front of the river...

... and the boats.

Hopefully one day we'll be able to canoe without finding a single piece of trash to collect. Until then, we'll keep coming back!

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San Fog Juanderers: My Introduction to Whitman

This year I am lucky to be a transfer super-sophomore at Whitman College. I'm grateful for the two years I had as an Ohio State Buckeye, and now I am elated to begin my three years as a... Fighting Missionary?

(I prefer the ultimate team mascot, Lady Sweets!)

I started my Whitman experience in the coolest way possible: sea kayaking for seven days through the San Juan Islands! Whitman has a stellar outdoors program which puts on pre-orientation wilderness trips called Scrambles.

Although my Scramble was originally named "San Juan Wanderers," we relabeled ourselves the "San Fog Juanderers," and that's about all you need to know. Please enjoy these photos taken by one of our wonderful and wacky leaders, Haley Forrester.

At first, it took us a while to pack all our gear into those skinny little kayaks.

But it always fit in the end.

I felt so accomplished each morning after packing up camp and loading the boats, but by that point we still had a whole day's paddle ahead of us!

When we arrived at camp, our first order was putting up the Themple.

Then I liked to take a coooooold, salty bath.

One of the best parts was the incredible amount of wildlife!

We found several Moon Jellies and this enormous Lion's Mane (I think?)

The highlight was this epic Giant Pacific Octopus chilling a few feet below our kayaks as we launched!!!

My single favorite moment was waking up on the top of Blind Island after sleeping under the stars.
(Pictured here is one of our stupendous leaders, Hilary.)

We named ourselves the "San Fog Juanderers" because our departures were delayed nearly every day by thick marine fog.

But the fog wasn't all bad -- it turned our morning campsites into glowing cloudscapes.

Tired, salty, and rather unclean, we held our final cookout breakfast in line for the Lopez-Anacortes Ferry.

And as soon as we got back in our van... our collective iPhone addition became apparent.

I'm so glad I get to see these smiling faces around campus all the time.

Or more often... these ridiculously derpy faces!

And most of all, thank you to our unbelievably awesome leaders.
They were always there to look out for us.... except at beach-nap time. :)

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A Ten-Lane Highway Through the Amazon (Ants Only)

Wednesday, February 26

Our last day at the hot, sticky, rainy, wonderful Limoncocha! For breakfast we got a new dish made of verde, green plantain. The dish is called majado in Spanish, or techudo in Kichwa. Even though any Ecuadorian would have considered this recipe ridiculously easy, I am challenged in the kitchen, so I took step-by-step notes.

We boated to the trailhead for Sendero del Caiman, Path of the Caiman.

The view from our "front porch." Fausto said the lake was open water here a few years ago. Now, the boat has a hard time navigating, and the outpost farther along the lake had to be abandoned. It's the opposite problem from Louisiana's, where marshland is giving way to open water at an alarming rate.

Motorized canoeing.

The perfect liana bench!

The GIANT ceibo tree!

The tree that sheds its skin "like a burned gringo."

The clearing where the local family is erecting a new set of tourist cabins.

A tall ficus which is completely hollow, yet still living. Where do the xylem and the phloem flow, I wonder?

This time, my camera was charged, so I could photograph a few bug photos for Dad.

One-legged grasshopper.

Funny-headed walking stick.

Having six legs has gone out of style, apparently. So 2013. 

Ant.

Worm on a seed pod.

Spider.

A city of leaf-cutter ants. I was so impressed by how these industrious little insects managed to keep a clearing in a forest where space is so aggressively sought. 

A leaf-cutter highway. The trails really were like interstates -- ten lanes wide and cleared of all detritus. This one even when into a tunnel!