Tag Archives: science


Learning to Tell a Story

Like Randall Hughes and David Kimbro, Dr. Randy Olson is a scientist who wants to make science understandable to a general audience.  Dr. Olson’s passion for communicating science led him to USC School of Cinema and a second career in film making.  He will be here next week to help bring the inner storyteller our of twelve graduate students, and he’s brought his latest film with him.  We hope you can join us.
Dr. Randall Hughes FSU Coastal & Marine Lab

Stories of high school football never grow old!

There’s nothing like lots of time with family over Thanksgiving to drive home the fact that some people are inherently better storytellers than others. How else could you stand to listen to the same story about the come-from-behind, last-minute win (that I witnessed first-hand) year in and year out? Or have someone recount something as mundane as a TV commercial and have you falling out of your seat laughing? Or watch an impersonation of a dog’s attempts to garner some attention that is funnier than the original video? My family is blessed with a number of good storytellers, and I’ll confess that I’m not one of them. So is there any hope for me?

If you’d asked me that question a few years ago, I would have answered with a resounding “No”. I’ve always considered storytelling as one of those innate gifts that some people have and others don’t, with me in the latter category. For one, I prefer to write things down, organizing and re-organizing my thoughts on the page until I get them just right. That way, if I forget the ‘punch line’, I can come back to it later, a strategy that definitely doesn’t work well when telling a joke aloud! Also, I’m much more comfortable coalescing others’ ideas into an organized fashion for a fact-based paper than creating a novel story from scratch (think English 101 vs. Creative Writing). But other than not being the most entertaining relative at family gatherings, does my inability to tell a good story really matter?

Early mornings in the field do wonders for sibling relationships!

This time, I’d have to answer “Yes”. Over the last several years, I’ve become more and more concerned about the disconnect between the scientific world and the “everyday” world. (The fact that it’s acceptable to suggest that science is somehow divorced from everyday life without raising lots of eyebrows is an indication of what I’m talking about.) And I think part of the responsibility for fixing this divide lies with scientists, in that we need to do a better job of explaining to our friends and family (for starters) why our work matters to them. But only the closest and most devoted of relatives (thank you, Mama Jennie!) will read my scientific publications, and only the most in need of a job (here’s looking at you, Jules!) will commit to working as my research assistant for a summer to learn the ins and outs of what I do. So we’re back to the need for me to tell a story, and a good story at that, to grab people’s interest and inspire them to want to know more.

Randall being interviewed by WFSU producer Rob Diaz de Villegas at the FSU Coastal & Marine Lab in July 2010.

Enter my collaboration with WFSU. Just prior to the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, I had a meeting with Kim Kelling-Engstrom about the possibilities of a joint effort to communicate David’s and my research to a general audience with help from the professionals at WFSU. When the spill occurred, the impetus to document our research on the amazing coastal ecosystems of northern Florida became even more urgent, and we launched this blog. For someone who rarely agrees to having my picture taken, it was a big leap to regularly go in front of a camera and talk about what I do, and why I think it’s important. And it’s been a steep learning curve! But I’m beginning to realize (hope?) that telling a story is a lot like playing sports – some people start with a leg up in the talent department, but everyone gets better with practice.

So how do you learn to tell a convincing story? What are the tricks of the trade? To find out more, David and I have invited Dr. Randy Olson, the self-described scientist-turned-filmmaker, to come give a workshop at FSU this month on just this topic. The workshop is for science graduate students interested in learning how to better communicate their ideas and research to a general audience. Randy went to graduate school at Harvard and had a tenured faculty position in marine biology at the University of New Hampshire until he decided to leave his job and enroll in the University of Southern California School of Cinema. Since finishing film school, he’s directed several entertaining and thought-provoking films, as well as written a book about communicating science. So he’s rather uniquely qualified to speak about the particular pitfalls that plague scientists when it comes to telling a good story, as well as how to overcome them.

I’ll be listening in carefully during the workshop, and I’m sure I’ll have some useful tips to share with you (and implement) on this blog in the weeks following. We’re also excited that Randy has offered to do a screening of his movie Sizzle: A Global Warming Comedy at the FSU Student Life Cinema at 7pm on Tuesday, December 11. The movie will be followed by a panel discussion featuring Dr. Olson and several FSU faculty members. The event is free and open to all who are interested, so come join us!

We want to hear from you! Add your question or comment.

In the Grass, On the Reef is funded by the National Science Foundation.

Pea crabs at various stages of development. The ones in the center are young crabs, as they appear in the stages immediately following infection of an oyster. The ones on the right are older, harder-carapaced crabs (most likely males, which may leave their hosts in search of oysters harboring females). The crab on the left is a mature female. The developing, orange-colored gonads are visible through the female’s thin carapace. Since mature females never leave the their host oyster, their carapaces (shells) are very soft and thin. This makes them very… squishy and pea-like.

Pea Crab Infestation!

Tanya Rogers FSU Coastal & Marine Lab

IGOR chip- biogeographic 150Serendipitous results are surely one of the most rewarding parts of experimental research. This past winter, I spent many weeks processing various frozen components of great cage experiment of last summer, including the several hundred spat tiles placed inside the different cages at all sites along the coast. It was while delicately measuring and shucking these little spat that I made one such unanticipated finding: Our oyster spat, unbeknownst to us, had become infested with pea crabs.

Pea crabs at various stages of development. The ones in the center are young crabs, as they appear in the stages immediately following infection of an oyster. The ones on the right are older, harder-carapaced crabs (most likely males, which may leave their hosts in search of oysters harboring females). The crab on the left is a mature female. The developing, orange-colored gonads are visible through the female’s thin carapace. Since mature females never leave the their host oyster, their carapaces (shells) are very soft and thin. This makes them very… squishy and pea-like.

You might have had the surprise of finding an oyster pea crab (Zaops ostreus) while shucking an oyster yourself. These small crabs live inside oysters and are a type of kleptoparasite, meaning they steal food from their hosts. An oyster gathers food by filtering water over its gills, trapping edible particles on its gills, and carrying those particles to its mouth using cilia (tiny hairs). Pea crabs sit on the gills and pick out some of the food the oyster traps before the oyster can consume it. By scurrying around inside oysters, pea crabs can also damage the gills mechanically. The pea crabs, like most parasites, don’t kill their hosts, but they can certainly affect the oysters’ overall health.

pea crabs 2

A gravid (egg-bearing) female pea crab next to the oyster spat in which she was living. The female, like most crabs, carries her eggs until they hatch, and then releases her larvae into the water. The baby crabs, when ready, will locate a new oyster host by smell.

As I was processing the oyster spat from all of our experimental sites (Florida to North Carolina) for survivorship, growth, and condition, I began to notice a surprising number of pea crabs living inside them and started to keep track. What’s interesting was not so much that the oysters had pea crabs, but that the percentage of oysters infected with pea crabs varied geographically. For instance, only about 25% had pea crabs in St. Augustine, Florida, whereas over 70% were infected at Skidaway Island, Georgia. Keep in mind that these spat all came from the same source and the same hatchery, so they all had the same starting condition. What’s more, I found that spat in Georgia which had naturally recruited to the tiles from the surrounding waters (of which there were quite a lot, and for which I also processed condition) rarely had pea crabs. Only about 5% of the recruits had pea crabs at Skidaway Island, Georgia. Why is there this huge difference in infection rate? Do the local oysters know something that the transplants don’t? How do these patterns in pea crab infection relate to other geographic patterns we’re finding? How does pea crab infection affect oyster condition? These and many more questions await to be addressed in further analyses and future experiments.

In the Grass, On the Reef, A World Away

Dr. Randall Hughes FSU Coastal & Marine Lab

IGOR chip- biogeographic 150IGOR chip- habitat 150David and I are in Sydney, Australia, on visiting research appointments with the University of Technology Sydney. We arrived the first of the year, and after recovering from jet lag and getting our bearings, we embarked this week on setting up a couple of new experiments.  We have great local “guides” – Dr. Peter Macreadie (UTS), Dr. Paul York (UTS), Dr. Paul Gribben (UTS), and Dr. Melanie Bishop (Macquarie University) – to introduce us to the field systems and collaborate with us on these projects.


Our seagrass and razor clam experiment is set up at Point Wolstoncroft in Lake Macquarie (north of Sydney).

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A long time in the making

Dr. Randall Hughes FSU Coastal & Marine Lab

IGOR chip- biodiversity 150

As I mentioned in my last update, we have been working to set up a new marsh experiment in St. Joe Bay. The goal of the experiment is to see whether the genetic diversity of marsh cordgrass (Spartina alterniflora) affects how quickly or abundantly the plants grow, or influences the number of fiddler crabs, grasshoppers, snails, and other critters (like Ibis??) that call the plants home. But what is genetic diversity, exactly, and why do we think it may be important?


A flock of Ibis resting among our experimental marsh plots.

Spartina is a clonal plant, which means that a single “individual” or clone made up of many stems can dominate a large area (low diversity), or there can be lots of different individuals mixed together (high diversity). In our surveys of marshes in the northern Gulf of Mexico, we find that there can be as few as 1 and as many as 10 clones in an area of marsh about the size of a hula-hoop. You may notice that our experimental plots are about that same size, though we used irrigation tubing rather than actual hula-hoops (not as fun, but more practical and less expensive!). We’re testing whether the differences in genetic diversity (1 vs. 10 clones) that we see in natural marshes has any influence on the marsh community.

A single experimental plot of Spartina that is 1m in diameter.

But why genetic diversity? We know from experiments by other researchers that Spartina clones grown individually differ in height, how many stems they have, and other characteristics. These same plant traits affect the critters that live in and among the plants – for example, periwinkle snails preferentially climb on the tallest plants. Because different animals may be looking for different plant traits, then having greater diversity (genetic and trait) may lead to a greater number of animal species that live in that patch of marsh. Or, a single clone may be the “best”, leading to higher numbers of animals in lower diversity areas.


A view of the existing marsh behind our experiment.

As my title alludes, this experiment has taken a long time to come to fruition, in large part because it’s impossible to look at any 2 stems in a marsh and know for certain whether they’re the same individual or not. Unlike some clonal plants such as strawberries, where there are multiple berries connected by a single above-ground “runner”, Spartina has runners (aka, rhizomes) that connect stems of the same genetic individual under the ground, making it difficult to tell which stems are connected to which. We have 2 ways to get around this problem: (1) we use small snippets of DNA (analyzed in the lab) to tell clones apart, and (2) we start with single stems that we know are different clones and then grow them separately in the greenhouse until we have lots of stems of each different clone. It’s this latter part that has delayed this experiment – it has taken much tender loving care from Robyn over the last 2 years to get our Spartina clones to grow in the greenhouse to the point that we have enough of each clone (36 small flowerpots of each, to be exact) to plant in our experiment.


Emily and Robyn work to remove existing rhizome material from around the plot edges.

But plant we finally did! With lots of help from members of the Hughes and Kimbro labs, we got all the sand in the experimental plots sieved (to remove any existing root material) and all the plants in the ground the Thursday and Friday before Thanksgiving.


Team Hug-bro (Hughes and Kimbro) helping sieve sand!



Meagan and Randall get the easy job - planting the plants.

Now we get to wait and see (and take data) whether Spartina genetic diversity matters for the marsh plant or animal community. There won’t be any quick answers – the experiment will run for at least 2 years – but we’ll be sure to keep you up-to-date!

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

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:


no predators (bivalves only),


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


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.