Category Archives: Internship Journeys

Florida Lionfish Derby Series

I think that the greatest part of the REEF summer internship is the lionfish derby series. Since I was lucky enough to attend the derby in Green Turtle Cay in June, I had an idea of what to expect at the derbies held in the U.S. First came the derby in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.  The other REEF interns and I were able to convince many of our friends to volunteer at the derby, which is absolutely necessary for it to be a success. On Friday afternoon we headed north for the captains meeting. Attendance to this is required if a team wants to participate at the derby, because the meeting discusses rules as well as lionfish collecting and handling tips.

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REEF Staff and volunteers at Ft. Lauderdale Derby

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2 of the biggest lionfish at the Ft. Lauderdale Derby 

13 teams set out at sunrise on Saturday and would have all day to collect as many lionfish as they could. However, all fish had to be back at the dock by 5pm to qualify for the cash prizes. When teams arrive at the dock they come directly to me to check in. I note the time of their arrival, which is very important because in the event of a tie, the team that came in the earliest will win. Next, teams go to our scoring station, where each and every lionfish is measured. The results then come back to me to be entered into our database.

Once all of the fish are in and measured, the party does not stop. Myself along with other REEF interns, employees, and volunteers fillet lionfish so that it can be immediately cooked up and served to derby participants and the general public. Filleting the fish is my absolute favorite part of the derby, because the people who just happen to be at the dock or restaurant, but don’t know anything about lionfish, come to you to ask questions. “But I thought lionfish were poisonous?”, “Wait they don’t really belong in the Caribbean?”, or even “What’s that?” are some of the most common questions. Educating the public is the most fulfilling part of my job so I happily answer their questions:  “Lionfish are native to the indo-pacific and as one of the most common aquarium fishes, they often get dumped in the Caribbean when people no longer want to care for them. They are not poisonous but venomous so you can eat them. The difference is that poison is ingested while venom is injected. They have 18 venomous spines, 13 on their dorsal fin, 3 on their anal fin, and one on each pelvic fin.” Sometimes you even attract a few children who are absolutely fascinated by the fish. While teaching one boy about them, I came across a lionfish that was about to release her eggs…. potentially 20,000 of them!

The other question many people ask is how we can fillet them without getting stuck by a venomous spine. Filleting takes a lot of finesse and attention, but it can be done quite easily. It is important to be aware of where you are placing your hands at all times, and to go slow if you need to. Rushing won’t do any good if a spine sticks you! But of course, it is fun to impress the general public with what they consider to be “bravery and skill”.

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Learning to fillet lionfish earlier this summer! 

At the Ft. Lauderdale derby, the winning team brought in 58 lionfish; the largest lionfish was 400mm, while the smallest lionfish was only 62mm! In total 256 lionfish were brought in! The Palm Beach County Derby is set up in a very similar way. This year we had 8 teams bring in a total of 612 lionfish! The Palm Beach Derby ends a bit different, as it is followed by a banquet. It is a great opportunity to hang out with all of the teams and learn about their experiences and thoughts on lionfish. This years Palm Beach Derby was just 3 days before I would leave the Keys, so it was a bittersweet ending to my summer. But the derby series isn’t over! On September 14th, REEF will host a lionfish derby at John Pennekamp State Park. There will also be a one-day only exception to the usual spear ban within the State Park limits. This will hopefully draw in more lionfish hunters, especially those who prefer to use a spear over nets. So if you live in the area and want to be a part of an amazing event, get a team together and go out and hunt lionfish! More information can be found at the following link: http://www.reef.org/lionfish/derbies.

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The smallest lionfish at the Ft. Lauderdale derby, and a very small filefish found in the stomach of another lionfish

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Ft. Lauderdale Derby Catch! 

 

 

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Sea Turtle Monitoring in Buck Island Reef National Monument

Conveniently (presciently, even) timed for the dive stand-down, I was scheduled with a land interlude this week: back in the Virgin Islands for sea turtle patrolling in Buck Island Reef National Monument, off St. Croix.

Buck Island

Buck Island

The turtle project on Buck Island has been a continuous effort since 1988 to identify and monitor all the nesting females on the island. Each female is identified by tags on all four flippers and a microchip PIT (passive integrated transponder) tag, as well as photos and a biopsy for genetic data. The goal is to monitor all turtle activity on the island every night, which provides a comprehensive picture of individual females’ nesting patterns within a season, as well as long-term trends in where turtles nest and how often. Researchers must patrol the island’s beaches from sunset to sunrise during nesting season, recording the location and date of each female’s nests and false crawls. No one can leave the island if turtles are still on the beach, so the shift goes from 6pm to anywhere between 4am and 8am. The Buck Island scientists and interns “embrace the darkness” for a truly brutal twelve week research season, and I was joining them around week three.

The afternoon I arrived in St. Croix, Buck Island biologist Ian Lundgren greeted me in his beflamed pickup truck and briefed me on turtle protocol. I had lived with Ian for the first week of fish blitz on St. John and he had regaled us all with stories and pictures of his beach pup Pedey, with whom, despite considerable hype, I immediately fell in love. I decided to jump right in with turtle patrols, so after a quick walk for Pedey we headed to the marina, where I met interns Sarah Steele and Gabe Lundgren and volunteer Sara Sperber. We loaded the boat with water, turtle data sheets, and radios before heading to Buck Island, about 1.5 miles away. Everyone works a rotating schedule to avoid full nocturnal insanity, so in the subsequent nights I also worked with biological technician Clay Pollock and interns Tessa Code and Alex Gulick.

The first step each evening is to go around to all the boats anchored on the island’s west beach, a popular tourist spot. We explain that turtles nest on this beach and ask any boaters planning to stay past sunset to use low lights and not play loud music after dark to avoid disturbing any turtles or hatchlings. People were generally excited and interested to hear about the turtles and happy to dim their lights.

Sea turtle intern Tessa Code asks boaters that will stay after sunset to keep their lights and music low.

Sea turtle intern Tessa Code asks boaters that will stay after sunset to keep their lights and music low.

We then anchor on the NPS dock, which is roughly in the middle of the island’s stretch of beach. This dock is our camp for the night. Far too hardcore for beanbag chairs, the Buck Island team curls up on the concrete for their hour between patrols. Just like in the Dry Tortugas, we patrol the beaches every half hour, but since Buck is much larger, it requires a three-person rotation. The schedule is two hours on patrol, one hour off, but the person on break is often called to assist if there are multiple turtles on the beach or a patrol must be finished while someone does a turtle work up. Turtles that are new to the beach or haven’t received their full array of tags and tests must be fully poked, punctured, and measured, and since we only work on them in the window between when they start laying eggs and when they leave the beach, things can get hairy with many turtles on the island. A researcher might spend several hours running back and forth between digging turtles waiting for them to start laying, and then must choreograph reinforcements to ensure that each turtle receives the proper attention without any lapse in beach patrols.

 

Time to go to work

Time to go to work.

Every park and my few previous sea turtle experiences have had different policies on acceptable turtle decorum, and Buck Island is by far the most hands-on. This type of data collection—measurements, reading flipper tags—requires getting up close and personal with the turtles. Reading a turtle’s flipper tags often involves crawling on one’s belly behind her, grabbing a rear flipper, and reaching up to its base where the tag is located. The turtle doesn’t seem to notice if this is done while she’s moving said flipper, which means identification is a sandy scramble. Attaching or replacing tags requires the same crawling and flipper grabbing, but with pliers. The biopsy entails punching out a small tissue sample at the edge of a flipper, not an easy task while the turtle is moving. We also measure the turtle’s carapaces (shells), which for larger turtles more or less means giving them a hug, and for very large turtles both a hug and a straddle. Identifying each turtle is essential for data collection and is to be achieved at all costs. If an unidentified turtle makes moves toward the water (usually this means a false crawl) we do everything we can to keep her on the beach long enough for someone to read a tag. On my first night I had to sit on a green to slow her progress as Sarah scrabbled for her flippers.

(Viewer discretion advised) A nesting hawksbill.

(Viewer discretion advised) A nesting hawksbill.

The team takes the project a step beyond data collection to actively ensure nesting activities in optimal locations. If a turtle is having difficulty digging near vegetation, they’ll cut roots and even help dig to aid her nesting. If a turtle is digging in a suboptimal spot, perhaps too close to the water or on top of previous nests, they’ll discourage her by sneaking rocks or coconuts in the hole. Upon feeling these obstacles the turtle will generally abandon the spot and try again. If a turtle has already started laying eggs in a bad location, they’ll collect the eggs as she lays them or dig them up after she’s done and rebury them in a better spot. They’ll even fix false crawls: they’ve discovered that curling up in front of a water-bound turtle and pretending to be a rock activates some deeply ingrained turtle thought process that directs her turn around and try to nest again.

Turtles may also require redirection if they get disoriented in the vegetation. One night I spent almost two hours monitoring a green as she started and abandoned body pit after body pit (the precursor to a nest), crawling deep into the bushes, before abruptly and purposefully taking off toward the hills. Calling upon my training, I got in front of her and did my best rock impression, but to no avail: she advanced inexorably, tank-like, and I was forced to switch to evasive tactics that were almost entirely successful. I radioed for reinforcements, and Clay rushed to my assistance. He employed more advanced techniques like tickling her face and shoulders to discourage her forward progress, which she bore with an exasperated sigh and staunchly held her course. We then had to resort to forcible turning maneuvers. Clay estimates that she was about 350 lbs, and in the low, dense vegetation it was difficult to get any sort of leverage. She fought against us, surging further inland every time we pushed her back. It was clear she was getting tired and stressed, and I grew increasingly concerned that we would drive her to irreversible entanglement. Finally, after over an hour of struggling, we managed to shove her into a clear pathway and she laboriously but steadily made her way back into the water.

Turtle, this is no place for a nest. Get out of here.

Turtle, this is no place for a nest. Get out of here.

It should be noted that all of this patrolling and crawling through vegetation in low red light carries the risk of contact with the Virgin Islands’ dozens of species of extremely spiny and/or caustic plants. “Hey, how’s that rash?” is standard greeting among the interns.

 It doesn’t get much more exciting than seeing a leatherback.

It doesn’t get much more exciting than seeing a leatherback.

On another memorable night, a leatherback came up to nest. The leatherback nesting season is much earlier—this is when we expect leatherback hatchlings to emerge—so this was a rare treat. She was tiny by leatherback standards, likely very young, which may explain why she was digging her belated nest barely clear of the berm, where it would be washed away as soon as the tides rose. We would need to relocate the nest, so Sarah and I donned rubber gloves and stealthily removed the cue ball eggs from the shoulder-deep nest, working as quickly as we could to get them all before she started burying them. Sarah had to sit on the turtle to take her measurements, fielding slaps from her humongous front flippers as she covered the nest. We brought our stash of eggs further up the beach to rebury them while the leatherback made sand angels as she struggled to find the water a few feet away. The sound of her snorts and groans was incredible: this must be how dinosaurs breathed. The nest successfully relocated, Tessa, Sarah, and I took a moment to appreciate this awesome occasion. Turtle selfies may have occurred. The leatherback stayed on the beach for some time, seemingly unable to identify the water even as it lapped over her. After turning back toward the land a few more times, she made her exit as the sun rose. Exhausted, we returned to St. Croix to sleep away the daylight.

This leatherback is actually quite small. They can reach upwards of eight feet and 1,500 lbs.

This leatherback is actually quite small. They can reach upwards of eight feet and 1,500 lbs.

She finally left the island around 5:30am.

 

Time on the island consisted mostly of sleeping, with late lunches and occasional trips into town for dinner for those with a scheduled night off. Since I was living in different park housing than the other interns, I was given custody of another government vehicle (the G-ride), with which I was entrusted to transport myself around the island. Given my dismal directional sense and chronic left/right confusion I was initially apprehensive about navigating unfamiliar streets on the left side of the road, but I adjusted surprisingly quickly, aided in no small part by finding the local reggae station (WSTX FM 100, the Soul of the Caribbean). Successfully making my way home at five in the morning after the first night of turtles may be my greatest achievement to date.

The lights of Christiansted.

The lights of Christiansted.

This concludes my Caribbean tour; I’m headed to the Pacific. Thanks so much to Ian and Clay for letting me tag along on patrols this week, and to the amazing interns for their delightful company and for driving me to the airport, twice.

 

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Now Entering Paradise

I have always preferred warm weather over cold, salt water over fresh, and diving over just about everything else. So I could barely contain my excitement as I headed from Central Illinois to Key Largo for the summer. After just a few weeks of interning with Reef Environmental Education Foundation, I felt I had found my niche. It’s not just the location, weather, and diving that suit me, but also the passionate people I have met and the valuable work I have been doing.

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My fellow REEF interns Alex, Alexis, and Catie 

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My weeks are split between the field and the office. While the field definitely creates more excitement, the office work is just as important. I have been dedicating large amounts of my time in the office prepping for REEF Fest! REEF fest is our 20th Anniversary Celebration held August 8th-11th filled with diving, free seminars, and nightly social events that will attract divers from across the country. I am so proud to be a part of such an exciting time in REEF history, and with this on top of the lionfish derby series, things do not get boring around the office.

Days in the field are just as productive, but in a very different way. As a REEF intern we have the amazing opportunity of diving with local dive shops at no cost, in order to conduct fish surveys and teach as many divers as possible about REEF. When I head out on a boat for the day, I find myself surrounded by others who are passionate about the underwater world and interested in the knowledge I can share with them. I gladly point out some common species from my underwater fish ID booklet, and love to discuss all of the fish sighted after the dive. It quickly becomes a game, as people describe the fish they saw and I try to ID it from memory or my handy ID book. Many divers on the boat may have never heard of REEF before, so each day out usually means a handful of new REEF members!

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A beautiful French Angelfish 

I have also had the privilege in assisting with lionfish research! We visit different dive sights in the area, and using transects, record and measure the lionfish, grouper, and lobster found at each location. Now this may not sound too tricky, but most of these sights are only marked by a small pole in about 60ft of water. Add a strong current and poor visibility, and your day of research diving may be a loss. One site, the notorious W-8, had not been found during the previous round of surveys. The search took time, and many attempts, but W-8 was found and we couldn’t have been happier…. especially because the sea got the best of us that day. Lets just say our big breakfast wasn’t the best idea.

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The “We Found W-8” Celebration 

 

 

 

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A lionfish Speared during research 

 

Finally, through the amazing opportunities I get with REEF, I have been able to obtain my rescue diver certification and enriched air certification. I am so glad that I can continue my dive education, and can’t wait for the next step: Dive Master!

 

 

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My Life is a Beach Boys Song

Living in Key Largo, I find myself occasionally singing “Bermuda, Bahamas, Come on Pretty Mama. Key Largo, Montego, Baby why Don’t We Go”. And while I already live in paradise, it is hard not to dream of those other beautiful Caribbean Islands. So I could barely contain my excitement when I got a call from my boss, Lad Akins, asking if I wanted to join him at the 5th Annual Green Turtle Cay Lionfish Derby in Abaco, Bahamas. For those of you who don’t know, the Green Turtle Cay Lionfish Derby was the first ever lionfish derby, which began 5 years ago.

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I immediately jumped at the chance to be apart of the derby, but the next 24 hours would be a crazy rollercoaster ride. I guess I should mention that I got this call on Friday and the derby was Saturday; kind of short notice. I had to find just the right flight to get there in time, and when I found it, I was ecstatic. And then came the bad news…. I didn’t bring my passport to Florida. It was sitting at home in Illinois, locked away in a safe. For the next hour I had pretty much given up hope, but then I had an idea. I called my mom, and after a bit of research we located a UPS store that was within 5 minutes of the Miami airport. She quickly sent my passport, which would hopefully make it from Illinois to Miami in less than 24 hours.

So I packed my bags and the next morning headed north to Miami. After a very nervous 45-minute wait in the UPS parking lot, the package finally arrived! One plane, one taxi, and one ferry was all it took to get me to Green Turtle Cay about one hour before all of the lionfish would come in; just in time for the craziest part of the day. I grabbed a scoring sheet, joined Stephanie Green, and we measured each lionfish that came in. In total: 1,204 LIONFISH! This year’s derby was very successful, and was a great way to prepare for other derbies we would have later in the summer.

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However the real work came after the derby. Over the next 3 days myself, along with 4 others (Lad, REEF intern Catie, previous intern Elizabeth, and Stephanie), would go out and survey about 75 sites. As part of REEF’s research a series of sites are surveyed before and after the derby, in order to measure the benefits a derby can have. At each site, 90 meters of transect is laid out, and then one person swims up and down each side of transect looking for lionfish, lobster, and grouper. The relative sizes, habitat, and activity of each are noted.  Some sights previously had 10 or more lionfish, but after the derby were clear of them. However, we also visited a few sights that were not hit during the derby, and what I saw confirmed everything I had learned about lionfish. One small artificial structure was home to about 30 lionfish! The only good thing about that site was target practice. We grabbed a few pole spears and after a few tries I was able to spear my first lionfish!

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The long days of snorkeling yielded a few scrapes and bruises from strong surges, a few awesome marine life sightings including my first flying gurnard, and some pretty funky sunburns. The obnoxious tan lines around our ankles from our dive boots gave way to the new name of our boat: The Booty Tan.  My trip to the Bahamas turned out to be one of the greatest experiences of my life. It not only confirmed my love of research and fieldwork, but also allowed me to see first hand the difference REEF makes. Every lionfish removed counts and seeing the difference after removing 1,204 was incredible.

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Meetings and Partings

By Sarah Barchus

Dive No.: Week 6 (Four dives, plus one!)
Location: End of the Road; Devil’s Den

Time In: 9 am
Time Out: 5 pm

Bottom time: About 32 hours

Depth: At the stop (But I don’t know about safety)

Starting Air Pressure: Savoring the last sips
Ending Air Pressure: Heavy sighs

Exposure Protection:
˙ Gearing up to go
˙ Fins — I can’t believe I’m finished

Weight: The finality of it

Temperature:
Air: Weird to be quitting cold turkey
On the surface: Flushed with feeling
Bottom line: I leave with warm memories

Conditions:
˙ Fresh water (I did make the acquaintance of a tall glass of water)
˙ Salt water (Typical of farewells)
˙ Shore (“Ashored” that this is something I could see myself doing)
˙ Boat (Moving on to other adventures that float my boat)
˙ Waves (Time to say goodbye)

Visibility:  Looking forward with a few forlorn glances back

Comments:
This week has been like a pair of bookends, filled with meetings and partings.
Some of the meetings came in the form of interviews. I was able to speak with someone from Save the Manatee about how divers can responsibly interact with the mammals. The short article I wrote from his information will be used as part of a large animal encounter feature in a future issue of Sport Diver. I also had the pleasure of hearing the first-hand recounting of how the Kirpachs found a WWII airplane wreck. Theirs would be the last story I would tell as an intern for the Bonnier Dive Group.

Meetings also came as introductions. Sport Diver‘s editor-in-chief David Espinosa was in town for the week. It was nice to put a face to the detached voice I often heard on speakerphone at previous meetings. Additionally, Jeff Hester, the 2013 Rolex Scholar visited Bonnier for two days. Hearing about his travels made me even more eager to begin my own.

On Tuesday Jeff, Patricia and I met Rowena, an employee at Devil’s Den where we went on a dive trip.  Walking into the vacant office I wondered if we would encounter anyone at all. After a fashion Patricia knocked on the right door and Rowena emerged. After the fact, we noticed their unique twist on a bell (see below).
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Devil’s Den was a bit of an ethereal experience. To enter the den you have to cart your gear down a set of steps, first stone and then wood, descending to a platform in the middle of the spring pool. Shaped like a bowl, the den had a small opening at the top from which sunlight spilled and plants dangled their leafy limbs. The underwater topography resembled an upturned stalk-less mushroom, the “gills” craggy swim-throughs. Being entombed in the twinkling twilight gave me shivers of excitement, but when the temperature decided to give me shivers of its own, I made my exit. Back to the world above and work the next day.

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Jeff Hester, Patricia Wuest, and me (and the Den’s devil) representing OWUSS after our dive.

And, as always, meetings held to their true form as meetings. Wednesday contained a particularly crucial one: the 2014 planning. Put four members of the Dive Team, one intern, one scholar, and a bag of bagels in a modest conference room with a whiteboard for eight hours and what do you get? Sport Diver’s entire framework for the future. Not bad, I’d say. We decided when, where, and what to use for the various sections of the magazine and who would cover them. What was my greatest contribution besides practicing my spelling skills (or lack thereof) and penmanship on the whiteboard while taking extensive notes? Narwhals. Yep. Yours truly came up with the last big creature to be featured in upcoming months. Naturally, I was pretty proud of my accomplishment.

The meeting begins.

The meeting begins.

The last round of meetings happened on the day of my departure from Bonnier. I made the acquaintance of two new interns from University of Central Florida. It was a bit bizarre to be at the end of my internship watching the beginnings of theirs take place. Six weeks ago I was shaking all the hands they were now. It was neat to talk with them and impart information about the internship to them. After our chats I realized just how much I have learned.

Then the partings. David left to go home. Jeff was on to his next adventure in the Bahamas. And I am returning to Wisconsin. But I can let go of what I must leave behind because of all that I get to take with me.

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