Posts Tagged ‘feeding’

To Pen A Tale Of Pens…

Wednesday, September 28th, 2011

Life History

The term “life history” is really a misnomer.  What the term really means is the generalized “story” of an average individual’s life.  Probably the animal whose life history is best known is the human.  Broken down by geographical region, and other demographics, it is possible to predict with surprising accuracy the life span, as well as the major life experiences, such as the number of offspring, and when they occur, for the average individual of many human populations.  In the case of humans, the driving force for the accumulation of such knowledge is not the desire for “abstract knowledge,” but rather the desire to make a profit.  On such knowledge is the insurance industry built, and it is based to a great extent on studies of human life history profiles extended to the greatest precision possible.  We also know the life histories of a large number of other, mostly terrestrial, organisms.  In these cases, biologists have spent a great deal of time studying populations of these animals and have noted when the animals are born, when they die, how long they live, when they mate, and so on.  All of these data can be massaged and manipulated statistically to provide a good understanding of the essential experiences of an average member of those species.

However, once we pass out of the terrestrial realm and into the oceanic environment, our ability to see all of the relevant aspects of any given organism’s life is significantly obscured by a wall of water.  To accumulate the data and the observational knowledge to flesh out a “life history” takes good, down to earth (or ocean bottom), tedious, long-term, expensive and dedicated research.  Because of the effort involved, such work has been completed for precious few animals, most of which are temperate, due primarily to the prevalence of marine laboratories in temperate regions.

The Story

In this essay, I summarize the results of a series of research projects concerning a temperate octocoral, the sea pen, Ptilosarcus gurneyi.   This species has also been known as Ptilosarcus quadrangulare,  Leioptilus quadrangulare, Leioptilus guerneyi, and  Ptilosarcus quadrangularis, but these names have long been considered to be junior synonyms.  Nonetheless, they still turn up from time to time, particularly in comments on the internet.  The basic research on which this article is based was reported in two papers (Chia and Crawford, 1973; Birkeland, 1974), but in addition, there is a significant amount of my own hitherto unpublished research.  For ease of readability, I will not cite either main reference again.  If the reader is interested in more detail, please read these articles or contact me directly.  In total, this information represents several thousand person-hours of observational time.  As far as I know, no similar body of knowledge exists for any tropical octocoral, although there are similar accumulations of information regarding some Mediterranean gorgonians.  I hope, however, that this example will give some appreciation for the life history of, at least, one type of octocoral.  Perhaps, as well, this essay will present the types of data needed to discuss the biology of these animals.

Figure 1.  A mature Ptilosarcus gurneyi individual extended about 50 cm out of the sediment.  The primary polyp consists of the base which extends into the sediment, and the rachis or stalk extending from the base up between the “leaves.”  The gastrozooids or feeding polyps are found on the outside of the leaf edges, while the siphonozooids, or pumping individuals, are found in the orange regions on the sides of the rachis.  The “warts” on a few of the leaves are caused by a parasitic isopod living inside the pen’s tissues.

 

Figure 2.  A portion of a sea pen bed in the central Puget Sound region, the depth was about 15 m.  Water flow was from the left, and the foreground field of view is about 1.5 meters (5 feet) across.

Sea pens are octocorals.  Taxonomically, they are placed in the Order Pennatulacea of the Subclass Octocorallia (= Alcyonaria), in the Class Anthozoa of the Phylum Cnidaria.  All of this jargon means they are animals whose major body parts consist of modified polyps.  Being octocorallians, their polyps show an octamerous or eight-fold symmetry most obviously manifested by the presence of eight tentacles around the mouth of the feeding polyps, or gastrozooids.  These eight tentacles each have a series of small side branches, a condition referred to as “pinnate branching.”  Unlike other octocorals, sea pens are mobile.  While they are sessile, living in unconsolidated ocean bottom sediments, they are not fastened to the substrate and at least some sea pens are capable of significant locomotion.

The adult sea pen is body considered to be comprised by the fused modifications of three types of polyps.  The base and central stalk region, or rachis, is considered to be the modified original polyp.  The feeding polyps possess tentacles are called gastrozooids and typically found either extending from the surface of the rachis much like the spokes of an umbrella, or on lateral extensions from the rachis, the “leaves”.  Depending on the sea pen species and the adult size, there may be from about ten to many thousand gastrozooids.  Embedded in the rachis surface are the siphonozooids; modified polyps lacking tentacles.  These structures consist of a “mouth” which is lined with microscopically sized, beating, hair-like projections called “cilia.”  Siphonozooids pump water into the body of the colony.  The colony has quite an intricate system of channels which allow the movement of water and nutrients throughout the body.  The forces necessary for the water movement comes from muscular contraction of the body and the beating of the cilia lining the water channels.

Figure 3.  The “leaf” edges of a mature sea pen showing many gastrozooids.  The leaves are oriented into the current, and can generate hydrodynamic lift.  When the animals are disturbed, they may orient into the current, inflate, climb out of the sediment, and drift away in the current.

 Figure 4.  The siphonozooid region of a sea pen rachis; siphonozooids, basically polyps without tentacles, pump water into the pen.  Small stenothoid amphipods are commonly found on the pen’s surface. 

Sea pens are like the late comic, Rodney Dangerfield, in that they “don’t get no respect.”  They are often largely ignored in invertebrate zoology classes, and hardly discussed at all in many marine biology classes.  Nonetheless, they are surprisingly abundant and, in fact, may be the dominant cnidarians over large regions of the earth’s surface; areas where stony corals, other octocorals, and most sea anemones are essentially absent, the deep sea soft-sediment bottom.  The largest of Earth’s ecosystems, much of this area is characterized by the presence of sea pens.  I doubt anybody has made the calculations, but I suspect that it would a sure bet to say that the biomass of sea pen living tissue exceeds that of all other benthic cnidarians combined.

Figure 5.  A small sea pen that had been drifting across the bottom.

Ptilosarcus guneyi, the subject of this article is found throughout the Northeastern Pacific from Alaska to Southern California.  Fully expanded, large, adult individuals may extend for about 60 cm (2 feet) out of the sediments, with the base extending into the sediments another 15 to 30 cm (6 to 12 inches).  Fully contracted, these same large adults will be about 15 to 20 cm (6 to 8 inches) long.  The body color ranges from a pale cream to deep orange red.  The body morphology may remind one of a fat, carrot-colored quill pen; hence, “sea pens”; alternatively, when contracted, they may remind one more, simply, of carrots.  Internally, they contain a single large calcareous and proteinaceous style.  The size of the style is related to the age of the sea pens, and measurements of it may be used to obtain ages of individuals in a population.  Ptilosarcus gurneyi are found in shallow waters, ranging from the lowest intertidal zone to depths of about 500 feet, but are most abundant in shallow waters.  And, the animals in this species may be amazingly abundant.  In the Puget Sound areas studied by Birkland, the number of sea pens averaged about 23 pens per square meter, with about 8 of these being three or more years in age.  Sea pen beds typically reach depths in excess of 50 m, and extend laterally for dozens of kilometers, interrupted only physical features such as scouring by river currents, dredged harbors and the like.  Although these beds are discontinuous, because of the currents in the area, they are not isolated from adjacent beds.  Larvae are dispersed throughout the region, and even adult pens may move laterally great distances.  The adults can crawl up out of the sediment, inflate with water, and drift along in the currents, much like an underwater balloon.

Figure 6.  A sea pen photographed in the field, shortly after the spring equinox, a day or two prior to spawning, showing the eggs in the gastrozooids.  The extended nature of the gastrozooids is visible in the image.  Their guts extend through the leaves into the rachis where they meet and fuse with a large internal canal system that extends throughout the animal.  The eggs are about 0.6 mm in diameter.

The sea pens have a cyclic behavior pattern of inflation, feeding, and then deflation.  They may do this several times a day, and the rhythm appears more-or-less unrelated to feeding or available foods.  At any one time, Birkeland found that only about a fourth of the pens were exposed, with the rest being completely buried in the sediments, often to a depth of 30 cm (1 foot) or more.  The sea pens totally dominate and structure these communities.  Very few other macroscopic animals live in the sediments of sea pen beds, possibly because the continuous bioturbation resulting from the movement of the sea pens.

As one might expect, the shear mass of sea pen flesh in these areas is a resource that has not “gone unnoticed” by predators.  In fact, there is an amazing variety of predators that have become adapted and, in some cases, totally dependent upon the sea pen populations.  In many respects, Ptilosarcus gurneyi in sea pen beds fills an ecological position similar to the huge herds of bison that used to occupy the American Great Plains or the grazing animals of the Serengeti.  In each of these cases, whole food webs were built upon the basic primary resource species.  Sea pens are suspension-feeders eating small organic particulate material, larvae, and other small zooplankton.  In turn, they are the food of a wide variety of benthic predators.  When small, they are eaten by several, mostly small, nudibranch species.  As they grow they become too large for some of the nudibranchs, although others may still eat them.  However, as the pens grow to maturity, they become the prey of several sea star species.  At the apex of this food web is yet another sea star, which preys on those stars.

In The Water

Ptilosarcus gurneyi generally spawns in the first week following the spring equinox.  In the laboratory during that time, sunlight hitting a tank of gravid sea pens that has been shaded will induce spawning.  The eggs are large, about 600 μm across, and a mature female colony will produce upwards of 200,000 of them.  Fertilization occurs in water column.  Embryonic development occurs over about 3 days at 12º C, and results in a foot-ball shaped, mobile, non-feeding, planula larva about 1 mm long.  After about five days, planulae raised in the laboratory begin to swim to the bottom of their containers.  By inference, the same behavior in nature would move them toward the ocean bottom.  In laboratory containers, they repeatedly swim vertically downward and touch their anterior end to the sediments.  If the sediments are coarse sand, with particle diameters in the 0.250 to 0.500 μm range, they will stick to, and “settle” into that sediment and begin to metamorphose into a small sea pen.  If appropriate sediments are not available, settlement and metamorphosis may be delayed for as much as a month.  Without appropriate sediment, the animal will die.  These pens are found in an areas dominated by vigorous tidal flows and offshore currents.  In a month, the larvae could disperse over great distances.

  

Figure 7.  Drawings done from life of developing Ptilosarcus  gurneyi embryos.  Top.  The newly released ovum.  Center.  Embryo at about the beginning of the 4-cell stage; about 4 hours old.  Cleavage is incomplete and doesn’t extend through the embryo.  Bottom:  Embryo between the 4 and 8 cell stages, about 6 hours after fertilization.

 

 Figure 8.  Drawings done from life of developing Ptilosarcus  gurneyi.  Top.  The 8-celled stage is about the same diameter as a newly spawned egg; about 7 hours after fertilization.  Center.  The embryo is at the 16-celled stage; about 8 hours old.  Bottom:  This embryo is at the blastula stage, about 12 hours old.

   

Figure 9.  Drawings done from life of developing Ptilosarcus  gurneyi.  Gastrula stages; individual cells no longer visible.  Left.  Early gastrula, irregularly shaped, about 24 hours old.  Center.  Gastrula, about 36 hours old.  Right:  Late Gastrula, the embryo has become ciliated and is swimming; 2 days old.

Figure 10.  Drawings done from life of developing Ptilosarcus  gurneyi.  Top.  Early planula, about 3 days old.  Bottom:  Planula larva at 4 days old.

 

Figure 11.  Drawings, done from life, of developing Ptilosarcus  gurneyi.  Top.  Planula at 5 days.  Center.  Planula, settling, about 6 days.  Bottom:  Settled larva undergoing metamorphosis into a juvenile sea pen; about 8 days of age.  The animal is capable of contraction and elongation.

Once metamorphosis begins development to a feeding individual is rapid, with the first polyp having functional tentacles within 2 weeks of spawning.  Active feeding begins soon thereafter and given sufficient food, growth is relatively rapid.  Once the sea pens have settled, they become potential prey for many predators.  Birkeland found that small sea pens are eaten at the rate of about 200 per year per square meter by small nudibranchs.  If they can survive this period, they get large enough to avoid becoming prey for the smallest of the nudibranchs, but they graduate into become food for sea stars.  Sea pens grow at a relatively constant rate, reaching sexual maturity when they are about 24 cm (9. 4 inches) tall and five years old.

Both growth and predation rates are continuous; there is no cessation of growth upon reaching an “adult size.”  As with many cnidarians, no old age or senescence is demonstrable in these animals.  Nonetheless, they don’t live forever.  In essence, Ptilosarcus life is an exercise in “beating the odds,” and as in all such cases, the “odds,” – in this case, the odds of being eaten by a predator – are too great for indefinite success.  The life expectancy of an individual sea pen in the Puget Sound areas appears to be about 14 to 15 years.  Older animals may be occasionally found but, if so, they are very rare. Predators aren’t the only source of mortality in sea pens, nor are sea pens immune from parasites which may influence their growth and survival; however, these factors remain unstudied.

 

Figure 12.  Drawings, done from life, of developing Ptilosarcus  gurneyi.  Larva undergoing metamorphosis.  Top.  11 days.  Center.  13 days old; tentacles clearly evident; bumps on body surface are of unknown function, spicules were not present; mouth is open and a gullet or gut is evident.  Botom:  15 days old; note the development of the first pinnae on the tentacles.

 

 

 Figure 13.  Drawings, done from life, of developing Ptilosarcus  gurneyi.  Two individuals about 3 weeks old; spicules are visible in the body wall.  They have one complete feeding polyp, the primary polyp, and siphonozooids on the stalk.  The animals were actively feeding at this time and were about 3.5 mm long.  The extent of the visible gut is shown in the right individual.  The individuals were settled and growing in coarse sand.  At this point, I terminated this growth series and transplanted the juveniles to a sea pen bed in one of my benthic research study sites.  

 

Figure 14.  A juvenile sea pen, photographed in nature; depth about 15 m.  The animal is an estimated one year old.  It was between one and two centimeters (about 0.4 to 0.8 inches) high.  Note gastrozooids, and the internal calcareous style (visible as a white band).

Figure 15.  Juvenile sea pen, photographed in nature; depth about 15 m.  This animal is about two years old.  It was about 5 centimeters (about 2 inches) high.  Note: the gastrozooids, the siphonozooids (visible as bumps on the stalk), and the developing leaves.

 

 Figure 16.  Older juvenile sea pen, probably about 4 years old, about 15 cm (6 inches) high.  The internal style that can be used to age the animals is clearly visible as a white internal stripe.

 

Figure 17.  Evidence of incomplete, or attempted, predation; in both cases these partially eaten sea pens probably were attacked by nudibranchs.

   

 Figure 18.  The Predators.  These nudibranchs primarily eat the smallest pens and become common in sea pen beds shortly after the juveniles settle and metamorphose out of the plankton.  Top. Hermissenda crassicornis.  Bottom.  Flabellina trophina.  Both nudibranchs are small, reaching lengths that do not exceed about 4 cm (1.6 inches).  These species are responsible for the deaths, on the average, of upwards of 200 sea pens per square meter, per year.

Figure 19.  The Predators.  This nudibranch, Tritonia festiva, reaches lengths of about 10 cm (4 inches) and primarily eats small to medium-sized sea pens, but will not hesitate to take a chunk out of a larger one, as the above individual is about to do. 

  

Figure 20.  The Predators.  These two large nudibranchs, Tritonia diomedia (top) reaching lengths of 15 cm (6 inches) and Tokuina tetraquetra (bottom) reaching lengths in excess of 30 cm (12 inches) also eat sea pens.  Tritonia is common in sea pen beds, Tokuina are uncommon in those areas, and tends to eat isolated sea pens growing in sediment pockets in rocks.  Individuals of these two species can eat the largest of sea pens without any difficulty whatsoever.

 

 Figure 21.  The Predators.  These images show Armina californica, (top) probably the most abundant nudibranch predator that eats Ptilosarcus in the Puget Sound region.  Although solitary individuals are capable of eating a pen, these animals are gregarious and are often seen clustered over the remains of their prey (bottom).  Armina californica are reach lengths of about 10 cm (4 inches) long, and will eat all size categories of pens.

Figure 22.  The Predators.  In the areas of the sea pen beds, about 50% of the food items eaten by the rosy sunstar, Crossaster papposus, are sea pens.

 Figure 23.  The predators.  In the areas of the sea pen beds, about 98% of the food items eaten by leather star, Dermasterias imbricata are sea pens.

Figure 24.  The Predators.  The vermillion seastar, Mediaster aequalis,  preys on sea pens, among many other things.  Here a sea star is hanging on to a previously buried sea pen that is expanding and trying to dislodge it.  Pens bury into the sediments and, if stimulated, the pen will sometimes inflate, and expand in an apparent attempt dislodge the predator.  Note that the pen has lifted the sea star totally off the substrate.

 

 Figure 25.  The Predators.  The spiny sea star,  Hippasteria spinosa, eats only sea pens.  It takes a full grown star about 4 to 5 days eaten a fully grown sea pen.

 Figure 26.  The end result of the effects of all of the predators is the style.

 Figure 27.  The Green Disease.  As if predation wasn’t enough, the sea pens are subject to other maladies.  The green coloration in the pens above is caused by an endoparasitic green alga, which appears to kill the pens, albeit it takes several years to do so.

Figure 28.  Not all Ptilsosarcus gurneyi in the Northeastern Pacific are found in dense beds.  They may be found in many other habitats where sand pockets of the appropriate type occur.  The anemones to the left are Urticina piscivora, and are about 30 cm (12 inches) across the oral disk. 

During their lifetime, these pens probably reproduce about ten times.  If the average number of eggs produced by one pen is 200,000, then each female will produce about 2,000,000 eggs over her life span.  If the populations are assumed to be constant, neither shrinking nor growing, then over the life span of the female she must spawn the eggs to replace herself and her mate, indicating the odds of survival to successful reproduction by any given Ptilosarcus gurneyi individual in the Puget Sound region is about 1,000,000 to 1.  Although those odds seem pretty slim, they are significantly greater than many other marine animals such as pelagic fishes.

  Figure 29.  Juvenile Ptilosarcus settle in dense assemblages; they have to, to be able to withstand the predation pressure of the array of predators that feed upon them.

 Finishing Thoughts…

There are some things that may be taken to heart from my tale of sea pen life and, mostly, death.  First, despite their apparent simplicity, these are hardy animals capable of surviving much environmental perturbation and unless they are eaten, they have the potential of living a long time.  Second, they are mobile and capable of movement, and will leave areas that are not to their liking.   Third, although P. gurneyi  lack zooxanthellae, they have a rapid growth rate.  The Puget Sound region, the so-called “Emerald Sea,” is exceedingly rich in plankton.  One reason sea pens are so abundant in the region is all of the potential food.  They eat small zooplankton.  They probably will not eat much phytoplankton unless it is a suspension of clumped cells.  Finally, these are very neat and strikingly beautiful animals, I haven’t even touched on their bioluminescence, but suffice it to say, in a dense sea pen bed at night the blue green glow from the pens is bright enough to take notes by.   This species is as typical of the Pacific Northwest as apples and sasquatch, and yet it is almost as unknown as the giant Palouse earthworm.   And that is a pity!

References:

Birkeland, C. 1974.  Interactions between a sea pen and seven of its predators.  Ecological Monographs. 44: 211-232.

Chia, F. S. and B. J. Crawford. 1973.  Some observations on gametogenesis, larval development and substratum selection of the sea pen Ptilosarcus gurneyi. Marine Biology. 23: 73-82.

Kozloff, E. N.  1990.  Invertebrates. SaundersCollege Publishing. Philadelphia. 866 pp.

Ruppert, E. E, R. S. Fox, and R. D. Barnes. 2003. Invertebrate Zoology, A Functional Evolutionary Approach. 7th Ed.   Brooks/Cole-Thomson Learning. Belmont, CA. xvii +963 pp.+ I1-I 26pp.

Shimek, R. L. Unpublished Observations.

Scaphopods

Thursday, August 18th, 2011

Where

Recently I started scanning my images of scaphopods, an animal group from which very few people have seen living animals.  I did a lot of research on them actually starting about 1975, and becoming intensely active in 1983 and finally winding down about 1997.  I still have a paper or two to write but I haven’t done any field work in a long time.  I described two deep-sea species (1, 2) from specimens sent to me, but most of my work has been done on the scaphopods found in the shallow waters of the Northeastern Pacific.  Scaphopods are particularly common in many of the fjord environments north of the Strait of Juan de Fuca.  I spent some small amount of time examining their distribution in the waters of Northern Puget Sound, particularly in the northern American San Juan Islands.  In this area, two species of scaphopods, Rhabdus rectius and Pulsellum salishorum are found, and may be reasonably common in a few areas.   There a couple of marine research laboratories/field stations in that region, but as far as I know, I am the only person in the last half century who has worked at one of those labs and done any kind of research on scaphopods.

During the period from 1981 until 2003, I taught at various times at a Canadian marine station located in Bamfield, British Columbia, situated on a small inlet on the southeast side of Barkley Sound, a large fjord system on the west side of Vancouver Island.  This marine laboratory, known as the Bamfield Marine Station from its beginning in the 1970s until it morphed into the Bamfield Marine Sciences Centre in the early 2003, offers easy access to some of the scaphopod habitats of the Barkley Sound region.  For the two-year period from September of 1983 until September of 1985, I was the Assistant Director of the marine station, and actively carried out an intensive project on scaphopod ecology and natural history.  Subsequent to that time, I worked up data collected during that period, as well as initiating other scaphopod work, mostly with specimens sent to me by various researchers.   As a result, I have published about a half dozen research papers on scaphopods, and have a couple of more in the works… if I can only get my act together enough to finish them.

The Critters

Scaphopods, or “tusk” or “tooth” shells are mollusks that live as subsurface predators in the marine sandy or muddy sea bottom.  Covering an estimated 60% of the planetary surface, this is THE largest habitat in on the planet’s surface.  As the scaphopods are either abundant or dominant predators in this habitat, that makes them some of the most ecologically important animals. 

By last count there are about 8 to 10 people living today who have published papers on scaphopods, which may make them the most understudied of all important marine animals.  Given that a number of those people are museum workers whose entire conception of the Molluscan Class Scaphopoda is that it is a collection of oddly shaped shells, it is evident that the world-wide scientific interest in the group is probably so close to nil as to be statistically indistinguishable from it.

This means that to a very real extent, that anybody who works on scaphopods as a full, or even part-, time venture is on their way to committing, or has committed, scientific/academic suicide.  While it is true, to paraphrase one of my old profs, “If only five people work on your group, you can’t be ranked any lower than the fifth most prestigious worker on the group.” 

However, if only five people work on your group of interest, it means nobody will care what you write.  So, the good side is that everybody working on the group knows who you are. On the other hand, nobody else in the world – or known universe – cares who you are or anything about the animals…  If there is so little interest in group worldwide, no matter how good your publications are, they will simply disappear into the large black cesspool of unread papers as nobody will care about you write.  

Well, who am I to argue?  I will state, however, in my defense, after that statement that I am the senior author of the definitive reference about the animals published to date:  Shimek, R. L., and G. Steiner.  1997.  Scaphopoda.  In:  Harrison F., and A. J. Kohn, Eds. Mollusca IIMicroscopic Anatomy of the Invertebrates. Volume 6B: 719-781.  Wiley-Liss Inc. New York, NY.  ISBN 0-471-15441-5.   Whooopty-doooo…

 

Five species of Scaphopods found in the Barkley Sound region of Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada.  The scale bar is in millimeter.

From top to bottom, Pulsellum salishorum, upper two rows, females on the left, males on the right, next single row, Cadulus tolmiei, female left, male right, below that species is a single row of two Gadila aberrans, female left, males right, The next two individuals are Rhabdus rectius, female on the top, male on the bottom, and the lower-most individual is a single specimen of Antalis pretiosum (formerly Dentalium pretiosum), the “Indian Money Shell.”  These individuals were alive at the time, and in the high definition of the moment, the top four species have shells that are thin enough to be translucent, and the gonads from each gender are differently colored, so I could discrimate the sexes.  It is hard to see in the low res image here, but if you look at the top animals on the left, you can see a hint of pink in the shell, and that is the color of the ovaries of Pulsellum salishorum.

Heretofore…

Scaphopods were very economically important animals in the North American native cultures.  Given the common name of the “Indian Money Shell,” one species, at one time called “Dentalium pretiosum,” was collected and traded throughout large parts of Northern North America.  Here is an image from a National Geographic Magazine article about the trade; I was a technical advisor to the NGM for that article.  The scaphopods were harvested in by some of the tribes from the Pacific Northwest, both in what would become Canada and the U.S.  There are numerous “tales” about how the shells were collected, and at least two different and likely ways of collecting them.  Knowing what I found out about the habits of that species (now called Antalis pretiosum), it appears that very few of the actual living animals were collected, but rather shells containing small hermit crabs the primary source of “scaphopods.”  There is a hermit crab in the region were the scaphopods are found that is not coiled to fit into a snail shell as are most hermit crabs, rather this one, Orthopagurus mimumus, has a straight body and lives preferentially in the large “dentalium” shells.  The crabs crawl around on the surface of the habitat, while the living animals are generally deeply under the surface, at least a foot (30 cm) below the water/sediment interface.  In fact, the living scaphopods all have a rapid burrowing response – an exposed scaph is a dead scaph – as crabs and fish eat them.  In text books and references, they are often illustrated as having their pointed ends exposed from the sediments, and some are found this way,  between1 in 60, to 1 in about 10,000 depending on the species I have looked are exposed at any one time.   So much for the standard references…  More about why this should be so in my next issue of this blog.

Anyway, one of the more recent “proofs” of the hypothesis that it was mostly dead scaphopod shells inhabitated by hermit crabs that were collected actually comes from one of the National Geographic Magazine sites.  They have a series of images purported to be Antalis pretiosum, all of dead scaphopod shells taken by David Doubilet, and  all showing hermit crabs showing hermit crabs in the shells.  Doubilet was apparently in search of the wily dentalium and, by golly, he got some pictures of it… or at least of its shell.   Interestingly enough, there is an image also on their site showing Antalis pretiosum feeding below the sediment surface.  This wonderful image is a painting by Gregory A. Harlin, and it clearly shows that scaphopods don’t have legs…  Of course, Doubilet didn’t look at the painted image.   One further note that adds even more humor to this bit of fubardom (fubar = fucked up beyond all recognition) is that Harlin’s painting was done for the previously mentioned earlier article in NGM about the dentalium trade for which I was a technical advisor.  Harlin based his painting on my drawing of Rhabdus rectius feeding below the sediment surface that was used in Shimek and Steiner, 1997. 

A diagram of Rhabdus rectius shown in its feeding posture below the sediment surface, drawn in life from animals in aquaria. Compare with the painting by Gregory A. Harlin,

The dentalium shells collected on the coast were traded through out North America, at least as far east as the Great Lakes and were quite valuable.  They were used in the construction of jewelry and as ornamentation on clothing.  I have read, with no real estimate of the validity of the statement, that one or two of them could be exchanged for a tanned buffalo hide.  Consider that when you look at the image I have imbedded below.

 

Plains Indian neck ring jewelry in the collection of the Burke Museum,University of Washington, Seattle, Washington.

It has been reported, that given that the shells of the animals were quite valuable, it stands to reason that the one of the first things the Europeans did (in the guise of the Hudson’s Bay Company) was to “devalue the currency” by flooding the market with “counterfeit” shells.  When the HBC traders began to realize how valuable the shells were, they sent word back up the communications chain, and European shells were harvested in some relatively great numbers.  The European species, Dentalium entale, is/was essentially identical to Dentalium pretiosum and easily collected (and remember, both are now in the genus Antalis).  These were sent to HBC traders throughoutNorth America and used to purchase all sorts of trade goods.  So many shells became available that this sufficiently brought the value of the shells down so low as to make them worthless as trade goods for the coastal tribes as they could not harvest enough to get the traditional materials (such as buffalo robes, and they became dependent upon the HBC to sell them blankets).  If this is true, it is a great (?) lesson in market economics…

More on scaphs later….

Until then…

Cheers, Ron

 

Gastropteron

Monday, August 8th, 2011

Although they look like they are nudibranchs, the two snail species featured in today’s posting are surely not nudibranchs, even if one is kind of sluggish in form and fashion.  The larger of the two, Gastropteron pacificum, is a bubble shell, meaning it has a shell that looks quite like a soap bubble and it is about as durable.  When sitting on the bottom, the animal is about the size of a grape.  The sides of the animal’s foot are expanded into two long lateral lobes that are normally folded up over the animal, but virtually nothing of the animal is normally visible as it is generally covered in a mucous sheet which, in turn, is covered by sediment particles.  The animal looks like a lump of mud on a bottom that is covered in lumps of mud, and so this is pretty good camouflage.  

Gastropteron pacificum, a stationary lump of pseudo-mud. The pink structure is a fleshy, tubular, siphon that brings in breathing water. 

Gastopteron pacificum individuals are found frequently in the spring in waters of the North American “Pacific Northwest” and if a diver ventures into its gorpy, mucky, muddy habitat – otherwise known when I was working in these areas, as a “Shimek study site” –  one can often see the trails left by these little guys as they move around, presumably in search of food or a mate. 

Gastropteron pacificum, leaving a trail in the mud as it crawls from there to here.

They are probably detritivores, as they are reported to eat detritus and diatoms in the laboratory, but I am not sure what they eat in nature, and neither, to the best of my knowledge, is anybody else.  I don’t think they have been studied in any detail which, if true, is quite a pity as they are neat little critters.  When something startles them – a diver (me) in my case for the photograph, or the presence of a bottom-feeding fish, such as the ratfish, Hydrolagus colliei, the little snail unfolds its foot flaps and flaps away.  They are quite strong swimmers and this appears to often be an effective escape response.  

Hydrolagus colliei

This “rat fish,” or “chimerid,” is a cartilaginous-skeletoned fish but obviously not a shark.  Individuals in this particular species can reach about 70 cm (28 inches) in length. Rat fishes are some of the most common predators in the soft-sediment ecosystems of the NE Pacific, and some of my unpublished data indicate they feed on mollusks, annelids, and echinoderms. 

A Gastropteron pacificum individual.

This little animal is swimming away from the most fearsome and horrific predator of all, a diver – in this case, of course, me.  I was sensed, probably by my water disturbances, and it then took off, and stayed waterborne for about 2 minutes.  Although Gastropteron swimming appears to be undirected, given the currents in the region, it will likely cover some distance before it quits swimming and falls back to the bottom.

If the Gastropteron is successful in its life, it find a good friend and they will do the snaily version of the “wild thing” resulting some time later in the deposition of some jelly-like “egg masses” attached to the bottom.  These are filled with small fertilized eggs (zygotes) that develop within the misnamed egg mass, which eventually dissolves releasing the larvae into the plankton. 

A group of Gastropteron “egg,” actually embryo, masses. I don’t know if all of these are deposited by one individual or if they aggregate during spawning to deposit the jelly-like masses (many snails in this region do form spawning aggregatations).

However, they don’t get a break!  There is a small sacoglossan slug, Olea hansinensis, in the area that searches out and eats the eggs of Gastropteron and its relatives.    

Olea hansinensis.

This is a small sacoglossan slug that eats eggs of cephalaspidean snails, such as Gastropteron.  This one was about 3 mm (1/8th inch) long, but larger individuals are said to reach about 13 mm, or half an inch in length.

More later,

Until then,

Cheers,

 

 

 

Sky Sharks And SCUBA

Sunday, December 19th, 2010

Hi Folks,

My wife and I got treated to quite a show yesterday.  For several hours, a male prairie falcon was cruising around our yard hunting doves.   These latter birds are Eurasian collared doves, one of several introduced pest birds (think large white/gray/tan pigeons) found locally – thesea are  probably descended from birds released by some non-thinking idiot who decided it would be cool to release doves symbolizing something or other at a ceremony somewhere near here.  Anyway, said skyrats appeared about four years ago, and have been doing well here.

Eurasian Collared Dove

Periodically, though, a truly native sky shark comes by to thin the herd a bit, and that is what happened yesterday.   It was great entertainment to watch the falcon, though I doubt the doves thought so. 🙂  I saw him miss his target by inches on one pass; the dove was surprisingly agile in the air when the situation warranted!   The falcon was around for a while, and then vanished.   I hope he finally got dinner and settled down near by to enjoy his repast.

Almost exactly a year ago, we had a similar opportunity to watch a goshawk for a few days, and the second picture, below, shows the final outcome.  The first picture was taken a few days before the second one, and it appeared to be the same animal.  In the second image, the hawk is standing over his plucked prey that he has been eating.

Sharp-shinned Hawk in the poplar outside my office window.

Sharp-Shinned Hawk and Dinner

It was an amazing show.

Of such events, are the sciences of behavioral biology, or ethology, and ecology, made.  And people who study these things in terrestrial environments truly lose out.  I used to tell my students that one of the very neat things about being an ecologist who worked subtidally using SCUBA was that one got to see a lot more interactions than one’s terresterially-bound counterparts.

If you think about it, how many times have you seen a predatory animal in nature around you (excluding those events caused by humanity or human pets ) actually kill and eat a prey organism?  I would wager that the total sum of those events witnessed by anybody is pretty small; I know it is with me, and I look for them.  It is possible to calculate some sort estimat of the odds of seeing such an interaction at any given moment.  For example, if a person is 35 years old, that person has been alive about 1 billion seconds.  If each second is a discrete a moment of observation, the rough, back-of-the-envelope odds of having seen such an event through that person’s lifetime are easy to work out.  First, assume that about of the third of the time has been spent sleeping, so subtract a third of the billion away, phffftt!, and now there 667,000,000 million potential moments of observations.  Then assume that for the first third of the persons’s life she or he was effectively unaware of the world (childhood, teen-aged years, and so forth), so subtract a third of the previous remains and now there about 444,700,000 million potential observational moments.  Now, drop out a another third for meals, and other daily mindless activities, and now there about 296,400,000 million observational times.  Being generous, let’s say our victim subject was outside observing nature 1/10 of each day (and I think that will be a vast over estimate for most folks, but, what the hey, let’s go with it), so now there are 29,640,000 potential moments of observation.  And if that person witnessed 10 natural events wherein one animal killed and ate another (and I suspect that would an overestimate), that means our subject’s odds of seeing such an event were 10 in 29,640,000, or 1/2,964,000, or (very roughly) 0.0000003.

Pretty slim odds (!) of seeing some interesting natural event such as predation.

Back to my point about working underwater in the marine world, I could see animals kill and eat other animals many times during a hour’s dive, and often did so.   Below are a couple of images  recording some of those times (and be sure to click on the sculpin image to see the shrimp’s antenna).   Obviously, the moral of the story, of course, is that one must dive to really observe and understand nature.

A Buffalo Sculpin, Enophrys bison, that has just eaten a shrimp, note the antenna visible protruding from the mouth.

A red rock crab, Cancer productus, eating a scallop.

Yeah, sure!!!

But the point that visible large animal to animal interactions are more evident in the marine environment is, I think, a valid one.

Behavior and Marine Aquariums

Thinking about the point made above, and making a not-so-tortuous connection to marine aquaria, those boxes of water full of critters may be (depending, of course, on how the boxes are set up, and what’s in them) quite reasonable analogues to a natural environment.  And that means, any aquarist with such a tank should expect to see predatory (and other “natural” ecological or behavioral) events occurring with some reasonable frequency in their systems.

And, of course, all of us aquarists (or at least of us who observe our systems) do see these events.  Everytime we feed some live animal to our livestock, we see predation, albeit those are staged events, but with suspension-feeding animals, corals for example, within the staged event, the actual feeding behavior on the part of the coral, is likely essentially the same as when the “real thing” occurs in nature.  But even if those “wo/man-made” events are factored out, all aquarists have seen unintened predation occur in our systems, and sometimes rather frequently, as when when a newly-observed acoel flatworm on the aquarium wall is seen to capture and eat a copepod.  In fact, by observing some of these types of events any aquarist worth their artificial (sea)-salt can – for some animals, at least – see interactions that have never been seen in nature, and depending on the interaction – such as with the flatworm and copepod example – such events may be exactly what occurs in the real world, or a mimic so close that the difference is immaterial.

So, folks, on this cold winter, while the snow outside blankets the northern hemisphere, those of you with coral reef aquaria kick back and relax and enjoy the tropical world in your living room.

It’s a world of your making and if you have done your job, properly, it is a VERY real world.

For the rest of you, it is time to shovel snow!

Until later,

Cheers,

Diodogorgia Behavior

Monday, September 13th, 2010

I have been burning the proverbial solidified lipid light source at the proverbial points of illumination as of late, working on preparing my manuscript of my first Diodogorgia feeding behavior manuscript.  I am opting to try to place it in one of the most widely read journals; a journal with a very significant rejection rate.   This is a generalized journal and very widely read and it gets a lot of manuscripts submitted to it.  Having a finite – and relatively small –  size, this means most manuscripts are rejected, but fortunately, they are rejected “without” prejudice, so they can be submitted elsewhere, and most are and probably most get published.    So, I have the customary backup plan: “B,” for the almost certain rejection.  I have heard the odds of success are about 1 in 20, so…   I am trying to convince myself that my work will not get accepted and that I shouldn’t be too upset with that likely outcome.  

Oh, yeah… THAT will work. 

I want this thing to be published in this journal so badly I can taste it, so the inevitable rejection will hurt.   I am old enough, and my research is limited enough, that my odds of ever doing some more work that I would think would be of suffiicent importance to even try to place in such a journal again are so small as to be non-existant.  It will be this time, or never.  You may have noticed I haven’t mentioned the name of the journal, either.  Some readers can probalby guess which journal I am shooting for, but I don’t want to jinx the process by naming the journal. 

Jinxing…  What a funny thing, I am absolutely certain that my mentioning the journal’s name will have no effect on the process whatsoever – still, a primal part of my reptilian soul tells me not to mention what journal it is.   Sooner or later, I will let the readers of this blog in on my first choice of journals, probably after I have submitted it to the next choice. 

 At least, I should be able to turn the work around into a different manuscript for another journal relatively rapidly.   And I think my second choice – probably the specialized journal, Invertebrate Biology –  will accept my stuff without any qualms. 

For the last few days I have been making illustrations.  A number of these have been almagamations of images made from sequential video frames to show some of the behavioral processes of food capture or rejection.   And all of these have to be within a specific size category and most of them should be grayscale.  Even though I knew that such an outcome was likely, it is amazing how much information disappears along with the color.  I probably will submit both color and gray-scale versions of the same image.  Perhaps the reviewers will opt for one over the other.   However, color images cost a lot more, and that money comes from the author.

Argh… the cost issues are awful.  My readers – if there are any – in the scientific realm will realize this, but most other folks probalby don’t know that the costs for publication in these peer-reviewed journals are, at least on paper, borne by the authors.  Often there are other sources that will help an impoverished author like myself, but unlike the commercial press that I normally write for, not only is the submission and selection process anguishing, you get to pay for the whole thing – or at least part of it, just to make you feel worse, I suppose.

Well, at least most journals will publish accepted papers regardless of the author’s ability to pay.  Which is good, ’cause I have NO ability to pay.

I suppose it is time to get back to the process, so I will try to periodically keep you posted here.

Until next time,

Cheers,

Good Stuff

Saturday, July 3rd, 2010

I have been going from a bare bones, sorta, tank back to something that is an approximation of a natural system.  My aquarium is nothing I would call a reef tank a the present time, more like the emulation of a habitat someplace near a reef.  In other words, no stony corals, yet.  And probably not for a long time.  For the last couple of years my system has mostly been focused on maintaining my research animals.  And it had been an adequate system, as far as it went, it just wasn’t the most aesthetic aquarium of all times.  In fact, it was pretty much the other extreme.  To a large extent, this condition was due to my health problems, which finally seem to be fading a bit.  I simply didn’t have the time to maintain it properly.

So…

I have been in the process of converting my aquarium into a more attractive system designed to maintain and support my research beasties of the present, my Diodogorgia colonies.  Now, like any good scientist, I don’t want to spend any more time than is absolutely necessary in this exercise.  I am NOT one of those aquarium hobbyists who spends all waking hours puttering around his/her system.  Nope.  I want to put the animals in the system, and sit back and enjoy it as I can, relaxing… Not working.

My research has shown that Diodogorgia colonies need strong, and more-or-less laminar currents to feed well.  It just can’t capture prey very well in either particularly slow currents or stagnant situations, nor in strong currents that are irregular, the type of water flow generated by so-called wavemakers, and oscillators.  So I have created a Diodogorgia gully along one side of my system with the wall of the aquarium being one side, and live rock being the other.   At one end of the aquarium, I have three relatively powerful powerheads to create the current.  I can’t, in this situation, use propeller type pumps, because the ones I have create a noise in the tank that irritates my spouse – apparently anywhere in the house (and, it is a noise I can’t hear, sigh…)  .  So…  a compromise, but it seem to be working so far.

Yesterday’s event of notice was the arrival of a shipment of sand bed and “maintenance” critters from Indo-Pacific Sea Farms.  I been periodically purchasing this type of critter from this vendor for over ten years, and other than the fact that some of the animals are misidentified (more about that below), I have nothing but good things to say about the operation.  The animals arrive in good order, ALWAYS.  The animals arrive in labeled bags, ALWAYS.  And the animals are reasonably priced, ALWAYS.   

Yesterday, I got a shipment of “bristle worms” – amphinomids or fire worms, the classic scavengers, some of their “Mama Mia” worms – these are cirratulid worms, not terebellids as it states on the webpage.  See this online article to tell the diffence between the two types of worms.  Nobody in the hobby, as near as I can tell, actually sells terebellids, but many folks misidentify cirratulids as terebellids.  Folks,  the presence of a lot of tentacles isn’t the sole diagnostic characteristic for a terebellid, those tentacles have to arise from a specific body region and the whole worm has to have the proper morphology.   Similarly with the cirratulids.  These two types of worms are NOT hard to tell apart. 

This is one of the cirratulids I got from IPSF. They do well in a good sand bed and are great detritivores.

I also got some mini-stars, small brittle stars, and some of the the “miracle mud,” some sediment containing real microscopic sediment critters, as a recharge for my sand bed.  This latter stuff is what live sand should be when it is sold, but other than IPSF, I don’t know of any vendor that actually sells it.

Finally, I finished off my order with some good grazing snails, three of the Trochus IPSF sells, and an order of grazing columbellids.  Although IPSF calls the latter Strombus maculata, they are clearly not a strombid.  However, that misidentification doesn’t get in the way of their grazing abilities, which are truly awesome.  These little snails are probably a species of Euplica, but that is really not important.  And here is an article that discusses the differences between the columbellids and the conchs (= strombids).  Again, they are not hard to tell apart, and the columbellids are really the best grazing snails in the business; additionally, they survive far better in reef tanks than do strombids.

This is one of the columbellids added to my system. See the linked article for differences between these animals and conchs (strombid snails).

Finally, and the thing that makes IPSF a REALLY great place to buy from, is that all of this stuff is aquacultured.  They raise it all.  YES!!!!  A marine aquarium animal vendor that is doing business like it should be done.   I had a heck of a good time yesterday adding all of these animals and a few other things, some algae, besides to my tank.

Until later,

Cheers.