Renee Albertson (Photo: Lee Sherman)

Rain was pouring hard the day Renee Albertson first connected, face-to-face, with a marine mammal. She was a 7-year-old visiting British Columbia’s Sealand aquarium (Canada’s now-defunct answer to California’s SeaWorld) with her mom and dad. The daily show had been cancelled because of the downpour. The usual crowds were absent. As the soggy trio from Portland stood looking into a small tank, the resident killer whale surfaced. The young whale — a rescue named Miracle — was balancing a plastic ring on her nose. And she was looking straight at little Renee. Again and again, Renee tossed the ring. Again and again, Miracle brought it back, always to Renee.

“There was just a low fence around the tank, and you could literally reach over and throw the ring,” recalls Albertson, a Ph.D. student in Oregon State University’s Marine Mammal Institute. “She kept coming back to me. It was a neat connection. It really made an impact on me.”

Dolphins in the Marquesas (Photo: Renee Albertson)

That childhood encounter fed Albertson’s ever-deepening fascination with marine science and led her, eventually, to join the international research team of Oregon State cetacean scientist Scott Baker. “Increasingly, I knew I wanted to help conserve these intelligent animals,” she says. “I just didn’t know how.” But with stubborn single-mindedness punctuated by moments of pure serendipity — fortuitous convergences she characterizes simply as “perfect timing”— she found her way into an elite circle of researchers who follow cetaceans (whales, dolphins and porpoises) to the farthest reaches of the Earth.

Portland to Polynesia

Albertson always loved biology. But the notion of making a living helping whales seemed unrealistic and out-of-reach. Chemistry — now there was a practical path to a career, she decided. After earning a bachelor’s in chemistry at Portland State University, Albertson took a job in an environmental lab analyzing water and soil samples. But lab work was, for her, too solitary. So she got a master’s in education at Pacific University and taught chemistry at David Douglas High School for 10 years. She loved teaching. But in the recesses of her mind, the eyes of the captive killer whale were still on her.

On the island of Hao in French Polynesia, villagers gave Renee Albertson a look at this jaw bone from a sperm whale. They agreed to let her sample the bone for genetic analysis. (Photo courtesy of Renee Albertson)

Then one day she heard about renowned whale researcher Michael Poole from a friend who had taken one of Poole’s whale-watching trips in French Polynesia. Poole had deeply inspired the friend, who encouraged Albertson to meet him. She was intrigued. “My friend didn’t realize that his whale-watching trip would end up being a life-changer for me,” Albertson says.

She emailed Poole, offering (begging, actually) to assist in his research during her summer break from teaching. “I never heard back,” she recalls. “I emailed and emailed and emailed.”

Finally, she sent one last message. She told him she was coming, regardless, and that if he didn’t need her, she joked, she guessed she would just have to spend the summer drinking martinis while writing lesson plans on the beach. Two days later, Poole’s name popped up in her inbox. His Ph.D. student wouldn’t be coming to collect samples that year, he explained, and it was humpback whale season. There was no money available for salary or living expenses. But if she were willing, he could offer her an unpaid internship.

When she got to the island of Moorea, Poole handed her not a life jacket but a notebook. Inside the fat binder was a photographic catalog of humpback whales’ tails. Poole tasked her with comparing the tails of recently sighted whales with those of previous years. “If you still like biology when you finish this, I’ll take you out in the boat,” Poole said. For two weeks Albertson “sat in a little beach cabana with a little magnifying glass, matching whale tails.”

She had earned her creds. Soon after, she was on the boat learning about dolphins, whales and conservation and helping Poole collect new whale-tail photos for the catalog. They also collected skin samples from breaching whales for eventual mitochondrial DNA analysis as part of her master’s research.

Posts From the Boat

The work led her to the University of Auckland, where Professor Baker had just accepted a new position as assistant director of the Marine Mammal Institute located in (how ironic is this?) Albertson’s home state of Oregon.

Renee Albertson and colleague Marc Oremus just published the first genetics paper on rough-toothed dolphins. Albertson, Oremus and whale researcher Michael Poole are known locally as the "French Polynesia team." Albertson says, "Believe it or not, it isn't that warm there, as our jackets illustrate. I was freezing most of the time on the boat!" (Photo courtesy of Renee Albertson)

Since joining Baker’s Cetacean Conservation and Genomics Laboratory, she has studied humpbacks in Polynesia and Antarctica, rough-toothed dolphins from Hawaii and the South Pacific, and multiple species of dolphins and whales in the Marquesas archipelago, a “hotspot” for cetacean diversity. She is coauthor on a paper about the population structure of rough-toothed dolphins recently accepted by the Journal of Experimental Marine Biology and Ecology. “Even though they live in the open ocean, they live in very discrete communities,” she says of the findings. She has presented to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s Scientific Review Group on the status and restructuring of marine mammal stocks. And she’s back in the classroom, this time teaching courses on the conservation and biology of marine mammals, both online for OSU and at the Hatfield Marine Science Center.

Visit Albertson’s blog for a day-by-day account of her most recent research expedition http://blogs.oregonstate.edu/marquesas/

Learn more about marine mammal studies through the South Pacific Wale Research Consortium.

For more information about education abroad opportunities for OSU students, contact the International Degree & Education Abroad (IDEA) office at 541-737-3006.

Rebecca Hamner (Photo: Lee Sherman)

A dolphin’s dorsal fin can be as distinctive as a human fingerprint. As the fin slices through the sea, its unique pattern of pigments, nicks and scars relays the animal’s personal story to observers on the surface. Often, scientists can use these markings to ID individual dolphins. But for some species, fin IDs are not precise enough. That’s why researchers like Oregon State University Ph.D. student Rebecca Hamner have turned to DNA.

Several summers ago in Australia’s Shark Bay, Hamner learned to recognize 200 distinct dorsal fins on bottlenose dolphins with names like Puck, Noggin and Tool. Their scars recorded entanglements with fishing nets, skirmishes with tiger sharks and battles among themselves for mates — personalized markings she quickly came to know around the resort town of Monkey Mia as a field assistant for two professors from the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth and the University of Zurich.

At Monkey Mia, fin ID was a piece of cake. “Ninety percent of the dolphins in Shark Bay have shark bites or other distinguishing scars,” notes Hamner, a student in OSU’s Marine Mammal Institute.

But then she won a Fulbright Scholarship to study the endangered Hector’s dolphin of New Zealand, which Scientific American’s “Extinction Watch” blog calls the “world’s smallest and rarest dolphins.” She joined the international research team of Scott Baker (who has appointments at both the University of Auckland and OSU’s Marine Mammal Institute) and began investigating the population structure of the Hector’s, which is about one-third the size of a bottlenose with a distinctive black mask and rounded dorsal fins. This time, she ID’d the animals by collecting tiny skin samples using a modified veterinary capture rifle to fire a floating biopsy dart from a boat.

Scouting for Scientists

So how did Hamner wind up studying dolphin genetics at the internationally known OSU Cetacean Conservation and Genomics Lab? Turns out, it had more to do with Hamner’s tenaciously tracking down faculty members who needed research assistants than with a burning passion for marine mammals per se. One research topic led to another — from dolphins to microalgae to invasive seaweed to lionfish and, finally, back to dolphins.

Hector's dolphins in Cloudy Bay, New Zealand (Photo: Anjanette Baker)

Her path to marine mammal expertise began in North Carolina, where she grew up tent camping at Lake Jeanette, tramping the woods, stalking wildlife behind the family home and splashing in the Atlantic Ocean on summer beach trips. When she started college at the University of North Carolina Wilmington, she knew she wanted to do “something with animals and nature.”

She wasted no time getting started. It was only her second week as an undergrad double-majoring in marine biology and psychology when she approached a dolphin researcher, who quickly put her to work doing photo-ID and acoustic surveys for bottlenoses along the North Carolina coast.

“I worked on those surveys every weekend for four years,” Hamner says. “That’s where I got my passion for field work.”

Species Spin

Meanwhile, during her second semester, she met a professor who was identifying microalgae by DNA sequencing. “Hmm,” she thought, “genetics is kind of interesting.” After working with him on the unicellular species (“these little green dots that you need a microscope to see”), she was recommended for a paid position with the researcher next door. So she switched to studying invasive red seaweed called Gracilaria vermiculophylla. When she was asked to process a few invasive lionfish samples sent over by one of the researcher’s collaborators, a National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration scientist in Beaufort (home of the Rachel Carson Coastal Preserve), she was captivated. For the next three years, she studied the venomous fish and presented her findings in her honors thesis.

After graduation, Hamner circled back to dolphins, heading first to Shark Bay for that finny summer and then on to New Zealand. After collecting tissue and analyzing DNA from the Hector’s dolphins and comparing it against existing samples in the Cetacean Tissue Archive at the University of Auckland, the team documented an alarmingly low abundance for the subspecies called the Maui’s dolphin.

“Suddenly, I was being invited to be a scientific panel member at a risk-assessment meeting organized by the New Zealand Department of Conservation and Ministry of Primary Industries,” Hamner says, her tone a mixture of pride and surprise. Her work with Baker has spurred the New Zealand government to reevaluate current protections and extend fishing restrictions along the coastline they inhabit. “Because of our findings, the Maui’s Dolphin Threat Management Plan is being accelerated.”

With only about 55 remaining individuals over the age of 1, the stakes couldn’t be higher.

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For more information about education abroad opportunities for OSU students, contact the International Degree & Education Abroad (IDEA) office at 541-737-3006.

Since its establishment in 2008, NNMREC has attracted nearly $20 million in private, state and federal support.

The NNMREC wave energy test site is about three nautical miles off Yaquina Head near Newport, Ore.

Just off the coast, not far from OSU’s Hatfield Marine Science Center in Newport, a marine ecologist affiliated with NNMREC has been analyzing life on the seafloor. Working at depths of 60 to more than 400 feet, Sarah Henkel and a student team scoop sand and sediments to examine organisms and physical properties. They conduct beam trawls to gather bottom-dwelling fish. They use a remotely operated vehicle to survey rocky outcrops.

Henkel aims to anticipate the biological consequences of ocean wave energy on the Oregon coast. Her work complements studies of gray whale migrations conducted by OSU’s Marine Mammal Institute (MMI). In a 2007-08 survey, a team led by MMI Director Bruce Mate followed 120 whales within about 10 nautical miles of the shore. “As expected,” they reported, “the migration paths of some gray whales cross through areas of proposed wave energy development.” Studies under way focus on acoustic techniques to help whales avoid wave energy arrays if the facilities are deemed to create problems for the animals in the future.

Meanwhile, OSU engineers are testing wave energy devices and working with AXYS Technologies, Inc., of Vancouver, British Columbia, to build a new offshore moored test buoy. A search for an additional test site connected to the nation’s power grid is being led by Sean Moran, NNMREC ocean test facilities manager.

Testing the Wind

To add a new wrinkle to ocean energy, scientists are starting to investigate the potential to capture energy from sea winds. With a U.S. Department of Energy grant, Rob Suryan, a seabird expert at OSU, will lead another NNMREC project to develop remote monitoring technologies that can assess potential wind turbine impacts on seabirds and bats.

The goal is a thorough analysis of Oregon’s wave energy potential. Engineered systems will need to survive extreme ocean conditions and minimize impact on the environment and traditional ocean uses. “We’ve got the technical side, the environmental side and the outreach to communities through Oregon Sea Grant. You don’t have that everywhere,” says Belinda Batten, director of NNMREC.

Plans are to deploy the NNMREC’s test buoy in a site three nautical miles off the coast at Newport in 2012. The moored buoy will allow wave energy developers to place their devices in the ocean and monitor performance. “It can gather all the data we need about the devices: systems performance and power analysis. The developers will go out and moor alongside the buoy and connect through a cable,” says Batten, a mechanical engineer.

Companies such as Columbia Power Technologies, Neptune Wave Power and Northwest Wave Energy Innovations have been discussing plans for testing prototypes in Oregon. A fourth company, Ocean Power Technologies, has already received permits for a small commercial-scale device near Reedsport.

A section from a 53-year-old splitnose rockfish (Sebastes diplopra) otolith shows annual growth rings. (Photo courtesy of Bryan Black)

Fish bones aren’t exactly the most prized portion of the catch of the day. Encountering a nearly translucent sliver in a grilled fillet is at best an annoyance and at worst a choking hazard. But for one Oregon State University researcher, certain fish bones are immensely valuable.

Bryan Black, an associate professor at OSU’s Hatfield Marine Science Center, is using the otoliths – or ear bones – of Pacific rockfish to reveal the effects of climate change at sea and on land. By measuring the tiny growth increments in fish otoliths, Black has learned that marine and forest ecosystems are joined at the hip. When exposed to the same climate conditions, they respond in synchronous but different ways. Winter climate, he has also found, may have far greater effects on these systems than researchers had previously guessed.

As a dendrochronologist, or tree-ring analyst, working in Pennsylvania, Black came to Hatfield in 2003 when he saw a job advertisement calling for someone who could apply growth increment science to fish otoliths. These bones grow outward from a core, forming annual growth increments similar to those of trees. Though Black had not been trained in marine science, he was enthusiastic to learn how forestry techniques could be applied to ocean ecosystems.

“It was quite a learning curve to begin with,” Black says. “Coming from understanding forests and forest ecology and learning to apply that to marine ecosystems took a lot of learning about marine ecology, but it was exciting at the same time.”

Otolith Library

Once Black mastered the marine knowledge he needed and began studying growth increments on rockfish otoliths, he discovered a connection between ocean, climate and forest that would prove essential to understanding a broader climate story. As with trees, larger growth increments in otoliths indicate a more favorable growing season. After analyzing increments in a collection of otoliths catalogued over the last several decades, Black found that rockfish growth was correlated with climate. During years when rockfish flourished, he discovered, winter climate was characterized by persistent high-pressure weather systems between Hawaii and the West Coast. (see graphs and map below)

A core taken by Bryan Black from this large Douglas-fir near Cape Perpetua will be dated and its rings compared with those of other trees as well as geoducks – the Northwest’s largest bivalve. Such comparisons allow scientists to study climate change in new ways. (Photo courtesy of Bryan Black)

“After developing these growth chronologies I found that they were very sensitive to what happened in the winter months,” Black says. “Climate in the winter seemed to be determining how well these fish grew throughout the year, and I think that’s because if you get favorable climate in the winter you get an early start to the growing season.”

The high-pressure systems that Black noted were encouraging winter upwelling along the coast, a process in which wind drives nutrient-rich water toward the ocean surface, effectively jump-starting the growing season. What made this connection to winter climate particularly interesting, he says, is how it also shows up in tree rings. Black combined the rockfish and climate data with tree-ring chronologies. As the data came together, he realized that rockfish and trees along the West Coast were reacting to the same forces but with opposite results. While the high-pressure systems created favorable conditions for rockfish, the systems blocked moisture flow to the forest, causing drought and producing poor growing seasons for trees.

500-Year Record

Once Black had established the relationship between trees, rockfish and winter climate, he began to expand his data, joining knowledge of marine and terrestrial systems to better understand both. He used networks of tree-ring chronologies, many of which extended for more than 500 years, to illustrate conditions of the past and provide context for understanding modern climate patterns.

“You can use the trees to tell us how this winter pattern has varied over the past several centuries, which is much longer than any instrumental record can provide,” Black says. “It’s really underscoring the importance of these distinct seasonal patterns and that, especially for this winter pattern, the marine and terrestrial systems are both affected. We’re using these chronologies to tell us about this history.”

By learning how climate has varied in the past and understanding its effect on growing seasons, Black hopes to determine how ecosystems have been affected by climate variation as well as by human presence, and how they might respond in the future. In addition to increasing our understanding of the sensitive relationships between climate and terrestrial and marine systems, he says further knowledge would have practical value for fisheries to predict expectations for growing seasons and set catch limits.

“Before you can forecast any effects of climate change, you have to understand how climate affects these systems right now,” Black says. “That’s where I come in, to try to tie these climate and ecosystem patterns to the environment and human influence where possible.”

Global Network

This magnified slice of a geoduck shell clearly shows incremental growth rings used by scientists to analyze sea surface temperatures. (Photo courtesy of Bryan Black)

Now, Black is sharing his methods with other researchers. Together, he and his colleagues are applying tree ring chronology methods to study the growth increments in the otoliths of different fishes as well as other species, such as bivalves, which have growth increments in their shells. By collaborating with researchers around the world, from Alaska to Europe and Australia, they hope to establish chronologies for diverse marine systems and compare them across broad regions. The goal is to learn about the effects of climate patterns on global marine and terrestrial systems.

“There is a huge network of tree ring chronologies that has been developed all over the world and it is a leading indicator of forest responses to climate and climate change,” Black says. “I think the same could be done in marine systems as these chronologies are developed. I find it very exciting to contribute something that is of practical and ecological importance to understanding how these systems function.”

Figure A shows the relationship among wintertime sea level pressure off the coast of western North America, tree growth in central and southern California, and sea level measured at San Francisco (an especially long instrumental record in comparison to sea level pressure). B shows the full history of wintertime sea level pressure from tree-ring data, including 95% confidence intervals (gray shading). The reconstruction extends back in time to 1507 AD, providing a 500-year record of wintertime climate variability important to marine and terrestrial ecosystems. (Graphs courtesy of Bryan Black)

The map shows correlations between winter sea level pressure off the coast of western North America and 1) northerly winds, where positive correlations indicate flow from the north, 2) winter precipitation on land, and 3) tree-ring chronologies in western North America (note: the larger the tree symbol, the stronger the correlation with winter sea level pressure). In summary, high pressure off the West Coast of North America means more north winds, which favor marine productivity as well as drought on land, which reduces tree growth. (Map courtesy of Bryan Black)

“Charismatic megafauna,” my professor said with disdain. “That’s all you guys ever want to talk about.” I exchanged knowing glances with my classmates as we settled in for a rant about the popularity of flashy, impressive species.

It was the last day of my vertebrate biology class, and I was thrilled to finally hear about my favorite, the mammals. I’d endured hardships to get to this point. First were the slimy, less-than-appealing hagfish. From there I learned about cartilaginous fish, bony fish, fish that bore live young, fish with bizarre mating rituals. Things started to pick up with the amphibians and reptiles, and the birds were charming, but my focus remained steadily on the mammals.

To my bitter disappointment, mammals were barely given an hour of discussion. “If you want to learn about mammals, take a mammology class,” was my professor’s explanation for skimming over Class Mammalia.

The Pacific coast is home to the entire U.S. population of California sea lions, according to the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife. (Photo: Amy Schneider)

Disheartened, I shuffled home to comfort myself with pictures of beluga whales and wallabies on Google Images. Despite what my professor said, I think it’s fairly normal to be captivated by animals with fur and big, glossy eyes. It’s no coincidence that the World Wildlife Foundation (WWF) chose a cuddly giant panda as its figurehead. I admit, the iconic, lonely polar bear stranded on a melting iceberg tugs at my heart. It’s hard to stand idly by when these animals are at risk or in pain, and that’s probably why Kim Raum-Suryan and her Steller sea lion research arrested my attention.

“I’ve been interested in animals since I was a kid,” Raum-Suryan said with a laugh. A kindred spirit, evidently.

In the 1990s, Raum-Suryan, a research assistant with Dr. Markus Horning at OSU’s Marine Mammal Institute, was working for the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, making observations on Steller sea lions in order to understand the reason for their declining populations. Steller sea lions were listed as a threatened species in 1990, and a subpopulation became endangered in 1997.

Traveling by research vessel, Raum-Suryan and her colleagues navigated the Alaskan waters in search of sea lion clusters, collecting blood samples and taking pictures to learn more about the giant pinnipeds. As Raum-Suryan gathered more sea lion photographs, she was disturbed to notice how many of the sea lions were adorned with tight rubber or plastic loops around their necks. These loops, a symptom of litter in the ocean, cut deeply into the animals’ flesh, causing painful wounds that could result in death through strangulation or infection.

Oregon Coast

In 2000, Raum-Suryan started taking photographs of the entangled Steller sea lions and decided to survey how many sea lions were in similar situations. The Alaska Department of Fish and Game’s data set spans eleven years in Alaska and Raum-Suryan’s data set spans five years in Oregon.  Off the coast of Oregon alone, she has observed 72 entangled Steller sea lions, and with the popular literature citing only one or two occurrences a year, the difference is significant.

“The number was definitely higher than we were expecting, and that’s just including the animals we actually see,” Raum-Suryan said. “So we’re dealing with the low estimate because it’s very likely that many [entangled] animals die before they ever come to shore.”

These entangled sea lions, with their blubbery bodies and whiskery faces, prompted a movement in Newport, Ore. last year. Several Oregon organizations, including the Oregon Veterinary Medical Association and OSU’s Marine Mammal Institute, funded and installed a giant capture cage at Port Dock 1 where California sea lions love to “haul out” and relax before plunging into the ocean for their next meal. The capture cage floats near the docks with its doors open, providing an inviting place for the sea lions to hang out. Ideally, when an entangled sea lion enters the cage, the doors are then shut and the sea lion can be safely tranquilized and disentangled.

Naturally, I love this idea. But I have a feeling that people like my vertebrate biology professor would call into question the necessity of building such a device, and he may have a point. While thousands of animals mark the endangered species list, it’s admittedly easier to relate to the plight of the sea lions than to the equally imperiled corals that face issues of their own.

Cuddle Up to Coral

The corals are undoubtedly important. Their role in the marine ecosystem is foundational, and it’s frightening to think what might happen if they disappear. Still, people flock to animals like sea lions, and that will always be the case. It’s much more fun to watch sea lions frolic than corals filter-feed. The WWF giant panda is there for a reason – it’s meant to engage a broader audience.

If someone cares about sea lions, they must care about the entire marine ecosystem by default. The biological world is one of connections where many organisms are dependent on each other for survival. A wild California sea lion thrives only in a healthy environment, which means we need to conserve the fish, water and air quality that sea lions need to live. Without the smaller, less obvious members of the marine community, there can be no sea lions. If people grasp that concept, they may understand why conservation is so important.

And it all starts with a bunch of sea lions sprawling out on the docks. Maybe those “charismatic megafauna” aren’t so bad after all.

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See a news release from Oregon Sea Grant about Kim Raum-Suryan’s research on Steller sea lions.

Photo: Alex Staroseltsev

Whether or not you’re a fan of gulping down raw oysters doused with Tabasco, recent declines in the succulent Northwest shellfish are cause for alarm. That’s because the chemical changes in seawater that are harming oysters could have far-reaching effects on other ocean species as well (see “Tipping Point”).

A few years ago in Tillamook, oyster larvae at the Whiskey Creek Shellfish Hatchery were mysteriously dying. OSU scientists diagnosed the problem: acidic seawater, which disrupts the formation of calcium carbonate, the hardening compound in shells and corals. Researchers helped the growers make adjustments in their operation to reduce the influx of acidic water.

Now, with support from the National Science Foundation, oceanographers George Waldbusser, Burke Hales and Brian Haley in OSU’s College of Oceanic and Atmospheric Sciences and Chris Langdon of the Mulluscan Broodstock Program at Hatfield Marine Science Center are running experiments to find the threshold at which oysters, clams and mussels are harmed by acidification.

“Scientists know very little, to date, about specific modes of action triggered by acidification,” Waldbusser says.

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Researchers in the Partnership for Interdisciplinary Studies of Coastal Oceans, PISCO, are conducting a second NSF-funded project with sea urchins and mussels from California to Oregon. See Tipping Point.

For a  2008 story on ocean acidification along the West Coast, see Acid Ocean.

For information about supporting research and teaching through faculty endowments, contact the Oregon State University Foundation, 1-800-354-7281 or visit CampaignforOSU.org.

Hatfield Marine Science Center, Newport, Oregon

Critical Mass

350 OSU faculty engage in marine research and outreach activities.

120 OSU and 180 state and federal researchers collaborate on ocean science at OSU’s Hatfield Marine Science Center in Newport.

Research Grants

Nearly $100 million in 2008-09, or 37 percent of OSU research expenditures, was directly tied to marine-related issues.

Education

828 M.S. and 381 Ph.D. degrees have been awarded in ocean and coastal sciences since 1959, complementing marine science options for undergraduates.

Hatfield Marine Science Center

On a 49-acre campus, HMSC supports research in a wide range of ocean sciences.
More than 150,000 people view displays and live-animal touch tanks in the Visitor Center annually.

Oregon Sea Grant

Among the nation’s 32 Sea Grant programs, external reviewers consistently rate Oregon Sea Grant as among the top three.

R/V Wecoma, owned by the National Science Foundation, stationed at OSU's Hatfield Marine Science Center.

Ocean-Going Research Vessels

R/V Wecoma, 185 feet long, 1,100 long tons in normal operations
R/V Pacific Storm, 85 feet long, 153 tons gross
R/V Elakha, 54 feet long, range of 575 miles

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For information about supporting research and teaching through faculty endowments, contact the Oregon State University Foundation, 1-800-354-7281 or visit CampaignforOSU.org.

Federal agencies are funding OSU research on tsunamis, marine ecosystems, wave energy, ocean observing, invasive species and acidification, among other things. In September 2008, the U.S. Department of Energy created a Northwest National Marine Renewable Energy Center at OSU’s Hatfield Marine Science Center in Newport, further cementing the university’s leadership in wave energy and bringing to $13 million the total amount of funding for the initiative. Researchers are looking at environmental (how will marine organisms respond to subsurface electrical fields?) and technical (what engineered systems will be most effective?) questions and collaborating with state agencies, communities and the private sector.

National Leadership

In 2009, OSU zoology professor Jane Lubchenco became administrator of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) — the second OSU faculty member to hold that position after John Byrne in the 1980s, who later became president of OSU. In addition, Kelly Falkner, former professor in the College of Oceanic and Atmospheric Sciences (COAS), now leads the National Science Foundation’s polar research programs. Her COAS colleagues have made similar contributions: Professor Mike Freilich heads NASA’s Earth Science Division; Mark Abbott, dean of the college, is a member of the National Science Board, which oversees the NSF and advises Congress and the president; and Emeritus Professor Tim Cowles directs the national Ocean Observatories Initiative. (See “Run Silent, Run Deep” on Terra)

In August 2009, NOAA announced that it would move its Pacific Fleet operations from Seattle to Newport to be adjacent to OSU’s Hatfield Center, a stunning economic boon for the mid-Oregon coast that will bring as many as 175 NOAA employees, a half-dozen ships and an annual economic impact in the tens of millions.
Ocean Observing

Shortly after that, NSF announced that OSU would be one of the lead institutions on a $386.4 million Ocean Observatories Initiative that, among other things, will establish a system of surface moorings, seafloor platforms and undersea gliders to monitor the ocean — with a major presence off Newport.

“Oregon State University has perhaps more breadth and depth in marine and coastal science than anyone, and that opens up a lot of doors,” says Abbott. “In addition to expertise in many different disciplines, we provide fundamental science, research with direct application, and now we’re providing new access to the ocean through ships, satellites, the Ocean Observatories Initiative, gliders, the Marine Mammal Institute and other programs — and we do it on a global scale.”

“Sea Cow College”

OSU’s emergence as a force in marine and ocean sciences has been in the works for decades. The university came of age as an agricultural institution, developed the top-ranked forestry program in the country, and toward the end of the last century, became an emerging force in engineering. Marine sciences got some recognition, such as when OSU oceanographers discovered the first documented undersea hydrothermal vents and when John Byrne was named NOAA administrator.

But no one ever accused OSU of being a sea cow college. “We’ve always been the light under the bushel basket,” says Abbott. “Face it, fundamental science isn’t necessarily sexy. But more and more people are beginning to notice Oregon State because of the volume of high-quality research, our federal leadership, the emergence of programs with applications to real-world problems and that confluence of recent major events.”

Oceanography began at OSU in the late 1950s under the leadership of Wayne Burt, but its reach was limited by poor facilities and little access to the ocean. The 16-foot fiberglass boat Burt used in those early days was restricted to Yaquina Bay, and it wasn’t until the Office of Naval Research provided a sea-going 80-foot research vessel called the Acona in 1961 that the university was able to attract new ocean scientists, says Byrne.

The R/V Yaquina followed in 1964, and a year later, OSU opened the Hatfield Marine Science Center as a research, education and outreach facility. As both HMSC and COAS grew, the university developed marine science strengths in other areas — marine ecology, fisheries and wildlife, the nationally recognized Oregon Sea Grant program, wave energy, tsunamis and others.

The growth has been nothing short of phenomenal. In 2008-09, Oregon State University spent nearly $100 million on ocean and coastal research — 37 percent of all OSU research expenditures. And a funny thing happened along the way. Fundamental science has become — if not sexy — at least necessary in the eyes of the public. When the oil tanker New Carissa sank near Coos Bay in 1999, OSU physical oceanographers explained where the currents would carry the spilled oil. When the Pacific Ocean off Oregon was first plagued by low-oxygen areas that led to periodic marine “dead zones” in 2001-02, an interdisciplinary team of OSU researchers described the phenomenon and explained its origins.

The 2004 Indian Ocean earthquake and tsunami that killed more than 200,000 people drew comparisons with Oregon’s own Cascadia Subduction Zone and brought the university’s researchers into the spotlight. OSU’s O.H. Hinsdale Wave Research Laboratory includes one of the world’s foremost tsunami wave basins.

In 2010, as British Petroleum’s Deepwater Horizon well continued to spew oil into the Gulf of Mexico, OSU researchers were documenting the effects. Kim Anderson of OSU’s Superfund Research Program established a sensor network to monitor PAHs (petroleum-based compounds) in the air and water. Bruce Mate, director of OSU’s Marine Mammal Institute, led efforts to monitor sperm whale movements. Stephen Brandt, director of Oregon Sea Grant, conducted his sixth assessment of fish habitat in the northern Gulf “dead zone.”

The strength of OSU’s expertise gained additional recognition this year when COAS scientist Kelly Benoit-Bird received a prestigious MacArthur Fellowship, which carried a $500,000 grant for her research. She specializes in the use of acoustics to study marine ecology. (See “Genius of the Sea”)

Today, Oregon Sea Grant Director Stephen Brandt leads OSU’s Marine Council, which aims to enhance and to coordinate a global research enterprise. With scientists conducting studies from the Arctic to the Antarctic, from the North Atlantic to the South Pacific, Oregon State’s leadership in international ocean science is literal.

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An earlier version of this story, “Powered by Oceans,” appeared in the Winter 2010 issue of the Oregon Stater magazine.

For information about supporting research and teaching through faculty endowments, contact the Oregon State University Foundation, 1-800-354-7281 or visit CampaignforOSU.org.

Ocean conditions play

Bill Peterson, a federal biologist at the Hatfield Center, says one reason may be the appearance of northern copepod species during these cold-water events. Copepods, a type of zooplankton, are a primary prey for herring, anchovies and other salmon staples. Peterson says cold-water copepod species are lipid-rich, and those extra nutrients are important to salmon survival.

“Only the healthy salmon can survive that first winter at sea, and the extra fats provided by northern copepods may make the difference,” Peterson adds. Peterson has a courtesy appointment with OSU’s College of Oceanic and Atmospheric Sciences (COAS).

OSU geneticist Michael Banks of the Coastal Oregon Marine Experiment Station is leading a project to identify the origins of salmon caught off the Oregon coast. In 2006, he and colleagues worked with commercial fishermen to study genetic material from more than 2,000 Chinook salmon. Pinpointing the river basin of origin with high accuracy, the scientists validated their results by linking genetic identification with coded tags in all cases.

“Now that we can identify where the salmon are from, the next step is to learn how the distribution of fish is related to oceanographic data,” Banks says.

Banks and colleagues from COAS, Sea Grant and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration are evaluating data (temperature, salinity, dissolved oxygen and chlorophyll) from OSU undersea gliders. They hope to learn how salmon are distributed throughout the ocean so that fishery managers can avoid shutting down the entire region to protect a single run of fish, like those from the Klamath River.

Patrick Luke

Every spring, the Umatilla people of northeastern Oregon join other Columbia River tribes in celebrating the return of the salmon. Growing up on the reservation in the foothills of the Blue Mountains east of Pendleton, Patrick Luke learned to appreciate the bond between fish and people. When he wasn’t helping to tend the family’s horses, he was fishing with his dad for salmon and steelhead on the Columbia and the Umatilla rivers.

After graduating from Weston McEwen High School in Athena, Oregon, he left home at age 17 to join the U.S. Marines, serving in Beirut, Lebanon. Discharge in hand, Luke headed to Alaska where he worked on crabbers, longliners and salmon boats out of Sitka, Dutch Harbor and Kodiak, going as far as the Bering Sea.

Now, Luke is casting his future in a new direction. He wants to help repair the fraying link between fish and people by becoming a fisheries biologist (or “a fish doctor,” according to his 8-year-old son Cody). Fish and the aquatic communities they depend on, Luke believes, are “important to all of us, Native or not.”

Working on the slippery decks of commercial fishing boats did little to prepare Luke for academic pursuits. The transition to university life was difficult, he says, but he had help from friends and mentors in OSU’s Native Americans in Marine and Space Science (NAMSS) program and at the university’s cultural centers, particularly the Native American Longhouse. And then there is his work ethic: “I look at school like a full-time job,” he says.

In addition to his coursework, the senior in the Department of Fisheries and Wildlife has walked the streambeds of northeast Oregon. His quarry: invasive New Zealand mudsnails that can degrade ecosystem integrity, consuming algae that fuel the aquatic food web on which salmon and other fish depend.

Last summer, during a National Science Foundation-sponsored Research for Undergraduates program at OSU’s Hatfield Marine Science Center, he worked with mentors Tony d’Andrea (College of Oceanic and Atmospheric Sciences), Ted DeWitt (U.S. Environmental Protection Agency) and Brett Dumbauld (U.S. Department of Agriculture) to study ghost shrimp in Yaquina Bay.

Ghost shrimp are native to Pacific Coast estuaries from Baja to British Columbia and of particular interest to oyster farmers whose operations can be disturbed by the shrimp’s tunnel building activities. The research is aimed at understanding the patterns of ghost shrimp distribution and when and under what conditions they spawn and molt through their five life stages.

Inspired by the memory of his dad’s respect for education, Luke has succeeded in ways that still seem to surprise him. He received a first runner-up award from the Oregon Chapter of the American Fisheries Society in 2006 for his poster on the mudsnail. And he capped off his Yaquina Bay experience by receiving top honors for his poster in a class on coastal ecology and resource management.

For his senior project, Luke is focusing on western American shad, a prolific non-native species in the Northwest. He has been collecting samples for genetic studies of shad strains from several river systems and comparing them to shad populations in the eastern U.S.

Ultimately, Luke’s journey is personal. “I know what a lot of people value. I’m passionate about my research and what I try to do. What I do affects the fish, and the fish affect the people.”

“Tree rings have been widely used to generate growth chronologies that reflect forest history and climate change,” says Bryan Black, senior research scientist at the Cooperative Institute for Marine Resources Studies at the center. “The key to our research was discovering that the same procedures could be applied to build chronologies from growth increments of long-lived rockfish otoliths.”

Black is working with George Boehlert, center director, to examine the effects of ocean conditions on fish growth. Their analysis of the climate-growth relationship clearly shows that rockfish grow best in cool ocean conditions with plenty of upwelling, especially in winter and spring.

The tie between ocean variability and fish growth is as strong as the relationship between temperature or precipitation and tree growth in many tree ring studies, Black points out. “The strength of the correlation is surprising — and encouraging,” he says.

The story gets even more interesting for scientists when they compare the rockfish chronology with tree-ring chronologies from the Cascades. “We see a strong inverse relationship between rockfish growth and tree growth,” says Black.

When ocean conditions are warm, the winter is less severe, and the growing season for trees in the Cascades starts earlier and lasts longer. Tree rings become wider, not narrower — just the opposite signature from the rockfish.

“The inverse connection between tree growth at 5,000 feet in the Cascades and rockfish living hundreds of feet below the ocean’s surface shows the enormous influence of climate in both the marine and terrestrial ecosystems,” adds Black.

“Our next goal is to expand our analysis to include long-lived marine clams and freshwater mussels to better explore linkages between marine and terrestrial ecosystems.”