If you’ve ever had to throw a fish back because it was below the legal size, you are familiar with a principle that guides many recreational, and commercial, fisheries. “Keepers” are defined as fish above a certain length, and the fishery is managed to minimize catch of fish below this size. The reasoning is that small fish should be allowed to grow up and reproduce before they are caught and killed. This kind of principle has been around for a long time, and seems pretty commonsensical.
But as with many things in the natural world, human “common sense” can be misleading. Continue reading →
William Beebe (left) and Otis Barton with the bathysphere after a dive off Bermuda in 1934.
Writing the last post, I got thinking about the parallels between James Cameron’s recent dive and the first-ever human descents into the deep ocean, which were done in the early 1930′s by two men named William Beebe and Otis Barton. These parallels are actually pretty striking. In addition to the suspense of record-setting dives in an untested submersible, the story is fascinating for the tense mixture of science, celebrity, ambition, and money that defined these two men’s relationship. When these similarities become apparent, the deep-sea dive is almost secondary. Continue reading →
James Cameron's Deepsea Challenger submersible. Photo M. Thiessen, National Geographic/AP
Last weekend, film director James Cameron descended alone into the Challenger Deep of the Marianas Trench, the deepest known point in the world’s oceans. He was the third human to do so, and the first since 1960. Four days later, the British National Oceanography Center in Southampton announced it would be cutting 35 positions “at risk of redundancy” in the face of budget cutbacks. It’s an interesting juxtaposition. Continue reading →
Most of us here on earth are familiar with the blustery, buffeting noise a strong wind makes in our ears. That noise is low-frequency pressure waves in the air, caused by turbulence when it flows past our ears. There are other “winds” out there, though. One of the better-known ones is the solar wind, a stream of charged particles the Sun is constantly throwing off into space. During periods of heightened activity, such as this past week, these particles cause big auroras on Earth and can interfere with electronic communications. Until seeing this article today, though, I had never thought of what the buffeting of this wind might sound like.
They don’t actually sound like anything, since our ears hear pressure waves in air or water, not charged particles from space. But a PhD student in Design Science at the University of Michigan named Robert Alexander has made some really cool “sonifications” of the solar wind. I am not a solar physicist, but as best I can understand from this paper, he started with a series of ion measurements recorded on two NASA spacecraft over many days. From there, he converted those measurements to a sound file and played it back at a much faster rate, compressing months of data into a few seconds. In essence, he converted charged particles into airborne pressure waves. And it sounds really cool.
Kiritimati (Christmas Island) in the nation of Kiribati.
As reported in several newssources today, the island nation of Kiribati in the central Pacific is considering relocating its entire population elsewhere because of rising sea levels. President Anote Tong is in talks with Fiji to purchase land that could absorb at least some of Kiribati’s population, which is currently just over 100,000.
That’s a hard thing for a person to get their head around. I’ve been there—to Kiritimati, or Christmas Island, as a Sea Education Association student. If anything, that makes getting my head around it even harder. Kiribati is a real place: sleepy towns and friendly people and coconut plantations and outrigger fishing boats, all on low, low islands made of coral and coral rubble and sand. The islands are not quite idyllic. Some are too crowded, the waters around some are overfished, and all are quite poor. But they don’t look like a disaster area, a place resorting to desperate gambits to survive. They look like, well, a tropical paradise. And yet the people are coming up with plans to evacuate it.
I’m afraid that 100,000 people is tough number to relocate. Can so many people find places to take them, especially if it has to happen more or less all at the same time? And can so few maintain their culture if they are scattered across the western Pacific? I also wonder what number of people in the United States and the rest of the industrial world would have their lives totally uprooted by limits on fossil fuel combustion. Uprooted—as in forced from their homes, which sink underwater behind them. More than 100,000? More than 100,000, plus the populations all the other threatened Pacific island nations? The population of the coastal plains of Bangladesh?
During the early Cold War, Britain and the US used the eastern end of Kiritimati as a proving ground for atomic weapons. A collective 30 megatons of the most destructive weapons ever created didn’t budge the island. But the relentless heavy breathing of our industrial civilization might cause it to wash away. That’s hard to get your head around.
Pouring December rain, the crummy’s windows all steamed up,
Our tree-planting crew was talking salmon fishing during lunch
When Piss-Fir Willie matter-of-factly announced,
“Due to my natural modesty I didn’t mention it to you boys,
But I caught me a 30-pound chinook on Thanksgiving morn
Hit a big silver spinner in the Ten-Ten Hole.”
J-Root Johnny immediately hooted, “Hey, dude,
Throw that fucking minnow back!
I nailed one in the gorge last week
That went 38—” But before we could ask him on what
(A pitchfork was rumored his favorite lure)
Pete Tucker honked, “Put it in Glad Bag, Johnny,
And set it out on the curb. I landed one
From that little pool behind the Ulrick Ranch
That weighed out a hair over 42
On the Hiouchi Hamlet scales.”
At which Willie threw up his hands and wailed,
“Shitfire! On this damn crew
The first liar don’t have a chance.”
The American Fisheries Society annual meeting starts in Seattle in a couple of days. I will be in attendance, and am bracing myself for an onslaught of these stories. I worry that “I once saw an echo with a target strength of almost -12 dB re. 1 μPa at 1 m!” is not actually that impressive to most people. I suppose I will just have to fall back on my natural modesty.
Irene is dying out over northern New England. Most of the worst-case scenarios seem not to have occurred, though there has been a great deal of damage and flooding regardless. The hurricane in New England made me think of the book Time of Wonder, by Robert McCloskey, about summer life on a small island in Penobscot Bay. Just before the end, a hurricane blows through, sending the family indoors for a night of board games, storytelling, and hymn-singing by the light of a kerosene lantern. The book closes with these lines, as they pack up to leave at the end of the summer:
It is time to reset the clock from the rise and fall of the tide, to the come and go of the school bus. Pack your bag and put in a few treasures…A little bit sad about the place you are leaving, a little bit glad about the place you are going. It is a time of quiet wonder – for wondering, for instance: Where do hummingbirds go in a hurricane?
I can’t say that question has ever kept me up at night, but I have wondered about it from time to time. Well, it seems that the question now has an answer. See the photo below, taken by Chuck at his parents’ house in Greenville, NC, during the storm:
Just chillin' at the feeder during the hurricane. No biggie.
Apparently, hummingbirds go wherever the hell they want during a Hurricane.