Tag Archives: prey

Spat on a Platter

Tanya Rogers FSU Coastal & Marine Lab

IGOR chip_ predators_NCE 150“Spat tiles” are a tool our lab commonly uses to measure the growth and survivorship of juvenile oysters under different conditions, and we’ve used them with varying degrees of success in many of the experiments chronicled in this blog. What these are essentially (in their final form, after a good degree of troubleshooting), are little oysters glued to a tile, which is glued to a brick, which is glued to a mesh backing, which is zip tied vertically to a post. Rob and I have put together a couple interesting slideshows chronicling the growth of these spat over time from two of those experiments. Ever wonder how fast oysters grow? Observe…

This is a time series from our first spat tile experiment, which you can read about in this post. As you may recall, this experiment was largely a failure because the adhesive we used to adhere the spat was inadequate. However, we decided to keep the fully caged tiles out on the reefs to see how they fared over time in different locations. I photographed the tiles every 6 weeks or so, so that we now have a series showing their growth over time. The slideshow shows one of the tiles from Jacksonville. It starts in October of 2010. You’ll notice that not much growth occurs though the late fall and winter, but the spat start to grow noticeably from April-June 2011. From June-September the spat grow explosively and many new spat settle on the tile from the water column and grow equally rapidly. Just as plants (and algae) have a summer growing season, so too do the oysters that feed on them, when conditions are warm and there is abundant phytoplankton in the water to eat.

Next is a series of images from our caging experiment last summer, which you can read about here. Our large cages contained either:

bivalves-2box

no predators (bivalves only),

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spat-consuming mud crabs and oyster drills (consumers),

predators-2box

or mud crabs and oyster drills plus blue crabs and toadfish (predators).

The spat tiles within the larger cages were placed either exposed to potential predators or protected from them in a smaller subcage. Here are typical examples of what tiles looked like at the end of the experiment (about 2 months after starting). You can see how all the spat on the unprotected tiles were wiped out in the consumer treatments, but a good number survived in the treatments with no predators, as we would predict. In the predator treatments, most of the spat on unprotected tiles were removed, but not as fully or quickly as in the consumer treatments, which we would predict if the predators are inhibiting consumption of spat by the mud crabs and drills through consumptive or non-consumptive effects. You’ll see one tiny spat holding on in the predator tile shown. On the protected tiles, most of the spat survived in all treatments, as expected. We plan to further analyze the photographs from the protected tiles though, to see whether spat growth rates differed between them. We may find that protected spat in the consumer treatments grew slower than in the other treatments because of non-consumptive predator effects.

Currently, we’ve recovered most of our arsenal of spat tiles from the field, and I say we have probably amassed enough bricks to pave an entire driveway! Good thing we can reuse them!

The Biogeographic Oyster Study is funded by the National Science Foundation.

 

Tricks or Treats? And more on the effects of predators in marshes.

Dr. David Kimbro FSU Coastal & Marine Lab

IGOR chip_ predators_NCE 150Unlike most of the experiments that I’ve conducted up to this point in my career, the oyster experiment from this past summer does not contain a lot of data that can be analyzed quickly.

For example, predator effects on the survivorship of oysters can be quickly determined by simply counting the number of living as well as dead oysters and then by analyzing how survivorship changes across our 3 experimental treatments (i.e., cages with oysters only; cages with mudcrabs and oysters; cages with predators, mudcrabs, and oysters).  But this simple type of data tells us an incomplete story, because we are also interested in whether predators affected oyster filtration behavior and whether these behavioral effects led to differences in oyster traits (e.g., muscle mass) and ultimately the oyster’s influence on sediment characteristics.  If you recall, oyster filter-feeding and waste excretion can sometimes create sediment conditions that promote the removal of excess nitrogen from the system (i.e., denitrification)

oyster_exp_3box

As we are currently learning, getting the latter type of data after the experiment involves multiple time-consuming and tedious steps such as measuring the length and weight of each oyster, shucking it, scooping out and weighing the muscle tissue, drying the muscle tissue for 48 hours, and re-weighing the muscle tissue (read more about this process here).

After repeating all of these steps for nearly 4,000 individual oysters, we can subtract the wet and dry tissue masses to assess whether oysters were generally:

(a) all shell…“Yikes! Lot’s of predators around so I’ll devote all of my energy into thickening my shell”

(b) all meat…“Smells relaxing here, so why bother thickening my shell”

(c) or a mix of the two.

For the next two months, I will resemble a kid with a full Halloween bag of candy who cannot wait to look inside his bag to see whether it’s full of tricks (nonsensical data) or some tasty treats (nice clean and interesting data patterns)!  I’ll happily share the answer with you as soon as we get all the data in order.

Because of this delay, let’s explore some new research of mine that examined how predators affect prey traits in local marshes and why it matters.

P1000167

There are two main ingredients to this story:

(a) tides (high versus low) dictate how often and how long predators like blue crabs visit marshes to feast on tasty prey.

(b) prey are not hapless victims; like you and me, they will avoid risky situations.

attach.msc1In Spartina alterniflora systems, periwinkle snails (prey) munch on dead plant material (detritus) lying on the ground or fungus growing on the Spartina leaves that hover over the ground.  Actually, according to Dr. B. Silliman at the University of Florida, these snails farm fungus by slicing open the Spartina leaves, which are then colonized by a fungal infection.  If snails fungal farm too much, then the plant will eventually become stressed and die.

So, I wondered if the fear of predators might control the intensity of this fungal farming and plant damage.

For instance, when the tide floods the marsh, snails race (pretty darn fast for a snail!) up plants to avoid the influx of hungry predators such as the blue crab.

After thinking about this image for a while, I wondered whether water full of predator cues might enhance fungal farming by causing the snail to remain away from the risky ground even during low tide.  Eventually, the snail would get hungry and need to eat, right?  Hence, my hypothesis about enhanced fungal farming due to predator cues.   I also wondered how much of this dynamic might depend on the schedule of the tide.

Before delving into how I answered these questions, you are probably wondering whether this nuance really matters in such a complicated world.  Fair enough, and so did I.

Addressing this doubt, I looked all around our coastline for any confirmatory signs and found that Spartina was less productive and had a lot more snail-farming scars along shorelines subjected to a diurnal tidal schedule (12 hours flood and 12 hours ebb each day) when compared to shorelines subjected to a mixed semidiurnal schedule (2 low tides interspersed among 2 high tides that are each 6 hours).  Even cooler, this pattern occurred despite there being equal numbers of snails and predators along both shorelines; obviously density or consumption effects are not driving this pattern.

Marsh_foodweb

Ok, with this observation, I felt more confident in carrying out a pretty crazy laboratory experiment to see if my hypothesis might provide an explanation.

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Enter Bobby Henderson.  This skilled wizard constructed a system that allowed me to manipulate tides within tanks and therefore mimic natural marsh systems; well, at least more so than does a system of buckets that ignore the tides.

Deck_schematic1

Within each row of tide (blue or red), I randomly assigned each tank a particular predator treatment.  These treatments allowed me to dictate not only whether predators were present but whether they could consume & frighten snails versus just frightening them:

-Spartina only

-Spartina and snails

-Spartina, snails, and crown conch (predator)

-Spartina, snails, blue crab (predator)

-Spartina, snails, crown conch and blue crab (multiple predators)

-Spartina, snails, cue of crown conch (non-lethal predator)

-Spartina, snails, cue of blue crab (non-lethal predator)

-Spartina, snails, cues of crown conch and blue crab (non-lethal multiple predators)

attach.msc6After a few weeks, I found out the following:

(1) Predators caused snails to ascend Spartina regardless of tide and predator identity.  In other words, any predator cue and tide did the job in terms of scaring the dickens out of snails.

(2) Regardless of tide, blue crabs ate a lot more snails than did the slow moving crown conch and together they ate even more.  This ain’t rocket science!

(3) In this refuge from the predators, snails in the diurnal tide wacked away at the marsh while snails in the mixed tide had no effect on the marsh.

diurnal-mixed_2box

Whoa…the tidal schedule totally dictated whether predator cues indirectly benefitted or harmed Spartina through their direct effects on snail predator-avoidance and farming behavior.  And, this matches the observations in nature… pretty cool story about how the same assemblage of predator and prey can dance to a different tune when put in a slightly different environment.  This study will soon be published in the journal Ecology.  But until its publication, you can check out a more formal summary of this study here.

If this sort of thing happens just along a relatively small portion of our coastline, I can’t wait to see what comes of our data from the oyster experiment, which was conducted over 1,000 km.

Till next time,

David

David’s research is funded by the National Science Foundation.

Switching gears: from kayak to office cubicle

Hanna Garland FSU Coastal & Marine Lab

IGOR chip_ predators_NCE 150As fast as summer approached, it is now over; and for myself, it marks the closing of an intense field season and the beginning of my first year as a graduate student. However, this does not mean that the experiments, laboratory work, and data collection is put on hold. There is still plenty of work to check off the “to do” list that seems to never get any shorter.

My last post introduced the scientific question I was hoping to answer and the reason for studying the relationship between crown conchs and oysters in the Matanzas River as opposed to a different location. While I did not answer the question entirely (that would be far too difficult to accomplish in one summer), I was able to establish a strong, preliminary data set that I can now analyze and re-configure in order to improve upon this research next season.

Similar to methods described in David and Tanya’s posts, the construction of my experiment consisted of (much smaller) trenches dug for cage installation, Z-spar for attaching oyster spat to tiles, bumblebee bee tagging kits for marking appropriately weighed and measured oyster clusters, and various amounts of PVC for expensive data logger equipment housing. The fun meter never stopped ticking this summer in St. Augustine!

As I sit in my cubicle in my new office on campus, my mind cannot help but wander back to my life this summer driven by the time of low tide and whether I would have enough sunlight or energy to kayak out to one more site. To my surprise, the running of my experiment was manageable and actually became a relaxing routine. Data collection was divided into three categories: conch surveys, oyster health, and data logger maintenance. The number of conchs found on the experimental reefs was recorded in order to quantify the varying densities of these predators at each site. The health of the small oysters attached to tiles as well as the tagged larger clusters were assessed based on the number of live and dead. The data logging instruments record the water temperature, salinity and amount of tidal inundation occurring at each of my six experimental oyster reefs every five minutes (so there are a lot of data points to be analyzed here!) and require periodic scrubbing to remove algal and barnacle growth.

While the daily workload may seem light as far as stress levels; the fine print of every step of an experiment can be a tremendous mix of emotions. The hope for not just data but “good” data is something that all scientists share; however, this does not mean that conducting research needs to be filled with anxiety. The outlook that I aimed to have this summer was more based on the feelings of excitement and opportunity rather than high expectations that may or may not be met. To be able to conduct this study in such an ecologically rich environment surrounded by intelligent, supportive, and proactive people and institutions is an accomplishment in itself.

While my data set still requires endless hours of manipulation and analysis, the general outcome of my experiment this summer revealed that there is in fact an oyster health gradient occurring along the Matanzas River, with a change in health occurring around the Matanzas Inlet. In tandem with this increasing oyster mortality moving from my sites north of the inlet to the sites south; are high densities of crown conch populations on the southern reefs, with a decrease in these populations moving towards reefs north of the inlet. Furthermore, environmental factors (water temperature, salinity and tidal inundation data collected by my instruments) will be considered when looking at these patterns.

As a way to better quantify the health and size of the oyster community as well as the density of the resident species (such as crabs, worms, and other amphipods) that inhabit oyster reefs; I surveyed and sampled background reefs at each of my six experimental sites. Long story short, this meant that I randomly selected four new oyster reefs at each site in which I collected environmental data and basic reef characteristics (type of reef, location, dimensions), conducted conch surveys, and collected every living oyster cluster, dead shell, crab, piece of biota, etc. inside of a 0.25 x 0.25 meter quadrat. After washing away the mud, extracting the living organisms and preserving them in ethanol, and weighing, measuring, and recording each live and dead oyster, I have developed a solid database of the oyster reef communities at each of my sites. This will help to better describe the type and abundance of species present at each site.

Oyster reef communities impact us in more ways than providing a tasty appetizer at a restaurant. Not only do they provide a habitat for commercially and ecologically important species, but they also serve to locally improve water quality and prevent erosion. Oyster reefs are complex communities that are in a state of decline along the Florida coast. Unfortunately, unhealthy oysters cause unhealthy or collapsed resident species communities because these organisms depend on oyster reef habitats for food, shelter, and other important aspects of their life cycle. This experiment and preliminary data set provides insight to changing food web dynamics occurring not only along the Matanzas River but in all oyster reef communities.

Apalachicola oysters

Tasty as they are, oysters have a far greater ecological- and economical- value when they're alive in their oyster reefs.

Whether you are enjoying seafood for dinner or driving on a bridge over estuarine environments, keep in mind the important role each individual species plays in a larger community structure. Our actions upstream of these fragile habitats impact everything from microscopic worms to the maturing oyster spat and larger fish populations. As my project evolves, I hope to not only strengthen the scientific community but also raise awareness among people who unknowingly influence an aspect of oyster reef habitats.

 

Growing Pains (bigger is definitely not always better)

Dr. David Kimbro FSU Coastal & Marine Lab

California oyster cages

IGOR chip- biogeographic 150The small cages in the photo above were used in an experiment I conducted to study California oysters. The insanely large cages in the photo below are from an experiment designed for our insanely large biogeographic oyster study.

David by cage
While we had planned to install only 18 of these cages along the Atlantic coast of Florida, my crew wound up installing 70 cages over about six weeks. How did we reach such inflation in the number of cages and amount of digging? Well, it mainly stemmed from my ignorance of this area and the St. Johns River, which happens to dump a lot of sediment around oyster reefs. Because this sediment is deep and flocculent, it’s dangerous and almost impossible to work in. In fact, I may design a new study to analyze how oyster reefs manage to keep themselves above this ever-growing mud pit. I digress.

Relative to the abundance of these un-workable oyster reefs, mudflat areas suitable for our new experiment (i.e., near oyster reefs and firm footing) are quite rare. It was our luck (for better or worse, as you will soon read), we stumbled upon a sufficiently and suitable mudflat north of Jacksonville. After three days of hard digging, we managed to create large cages ready to support our experimental treatments. Suspecting that this site seemed too good to be true, we left the cages to fend for themselves for a week. If we returned to discover no problems, then we would proceed with the experiment.

On to St. Augustine- fitting the theme of bigger not always being better, our gargantuan stone crabs burrowed out of cages we had installed there. Even worse, cages without stone crabs were coming out of the ground because they were not dug in deep enough. The stone crab problem represents another example of why I should always run pilot experiments before attempting anything ambitious. Unfortunately, I have not learned this lesson yet. Or, I seem to periodically forget it.

Because I lacked the time to run such a pilot experiment, I ditched the troublesome stone crabs. We then awoke at dawn for the next three days to re-install cages (see the video below) in an over-kill sort of way. For this task, we took digging deep to a whole new level. Nothing was going to get inside or out of these cages without our permission. You can see how much deeper the cage bottoms extended into the ground by looking at the same cage pre- and post- renovation.

Having weathered the St. Augustine mishaps, we confidently headed back to Jacksonville to assess those cages. Upon arrival, I was subjected to a horrific scene: three days of hard labor undone by high flow conditions.

Note to self: mudflats are firm because flow is too high to allow sediment accumulation.

Stubbornly, I decided to force my will upon Mother Nature by digging cages in deeper and reinstalling them at locations behind marshes that would presumably buffer flow. Lacking the time to test this new cage installation, we immediately installed experimental treatments. This leap of faith was necessary in order to stay on schedule with the NC and GA teams.

Okay- cages up, reefs in, bells and whistles turned on. Afterwards, I raced back across the state to help two interns on their projects. Halfway back across the state and late on the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, I managed to blow the old lab truck’s transmission. As if getting a tow truck to Lake City at midnight wasn’t hard enough, getting one that would tow our truck and our kayak trailer was highly unlikely. But, taking pity on us, a wonderfully nice tow-truck driver agreed to load the trailer onto our truck.

 

Meanwhile, team Georgia was also experiencing problems with flow, sedimentation, and misbehaving predators. In short, we were throwing everything at this experiment and making little progress. At this point, ironically, the relative slackers amongst the three teams- the slow-to-start NC team- moved into first place- the horror!

After the passing of one mercifully tranquil week, we headed back to St. Augustine to check on things and collect data on our tile experiment. Interestingly, the experiment was working and we observed some variation in how predators indirectly benefit oysters; the positive effect diminished with latitude.

But then back again to Jacksonville- destroyed cages followed by some extremely colorful language. There should not have been deep pools of water surrounding the cages at dead low tide.

Phil by wrecked cage

Obviously, it was time to cut our losses by not messing around with this site anymore. As a result, we spent the next three days searching all of northern Florida and southern Georgia to find a new ideal study site: suitable to oysters, no quick sand, firm footing and modest flow. After three days of intensive searching, we can confidently claim that such a site does not exist.

After accepting that this experiment could not be conducted in northernmost Florida, we decided to redirect Jacksonville resources to St. Augustine. There we would conduct a similar experiment that focused on a predatory assemblage unique to Florida: stone crab, toadfish, catfish, and crown conchs. So, nine more cages, nine more experimental reefs, and all the associated bells and whistles were established once again. By this time, my crew felt that they could easily serve in the Army Corps of Engineers.

Although things are now going well and we have a much better understanding of how to initiate this type of an experiment, my general ignorance has kept a Florida State University intern in St. Augustine for 7 weeks after agreeing to be there for only two weeks. Ooopsie!

Stay tuned in for a Hanna update on St. Augustine’s crown conchs and a post from Tanya about the summer madness from a technician’s perspective.

Cheers,
David

David’s research is funded by the National Science Foundation.
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Horse Conchs Rule the Seagrass Bed

In the Grass, On the Reef: Testing the Ecology of Fear

Premieres on WFSU-TV Wednesday, June 29 at 7:30 PM, 6:30 CT.  In high definition where available.

Rob Diaz de Villegas WFSU-TV

IGOR_chip_predators_NCE_100This clip is a short segment on one of the predators featured in this program: the horse conch.  It’s practically an ecosystem onto itself, as you can see in the video’s poster frame above.  Barnacles, crepidula, bryozoans, and other marine creatures that affix themselves to hard surfaces settle on its shell.  In the video you’ll see its bright orange body as it roams the seagrass beds of the Forgotten Coast.  And you’ll see it eat another large predatory snail, the lightning whelk.

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