During my stay at the Bodega Marine Lab, I took a few time-lapses of the ocean waves at Horseshoe Cove, Schoolhouse Beach, and Dillon Beach. My goal was to capture the wave motion and sunset over time. I actually didn’t look at most of these time lapses until the end of the session and so it was really nice to be reminded of all hikes and adventures my peers and I shared together.
As you watch this video, notice the pulsing oceans and the shifting skies. It is easy to let these slow processes go unnoticed but a time-lapse can provide a broader perspective on the changing environment and the progression of the day.
Sometime in February of 2019, I went on a trip to the Bodega Marine Lab (BML) with the Marine Ecology class taught by Dr. Jay Stachowics. This was the first time I was visiting the lab (which was soon to become a place I now call home). On this trip, we visited Spud Point Marina. We weren’t there to see the boats but rather the life that lived underneath and alongside the docks. At this point in time, I was unfamiliar with the kinds of animals that we know as suspension feeding invertebrates. I remember my TA reaching over the side of the dock and pulling out a rope from the water and along with it came clumps of orange, brown, and maroon colors. I was startled by the water that began squirting in all directions. My TA pointed out that this was covered in sea squirts. I looked carefully at the clusters and noticed a dark burgundy color that was arranged into ribbons which reminded me of a complex arrangement of rose petals. I left that trip thinking it was some kind of plant.
Upright bryozoan Watersipora subtorquata, photo by Luis A. Solorzano
It wasn’t until later in July of 2019 when I took a Marine Invertebrate Zoology class at BML that I realized that this beautiful plant like structure was actually an animal! It was the species of bryozoan Watersipora subtorquata that has invaded the waters of California. I had not once in my life heard of a bryozoan. This animal was completely new to me and unlike anything I had ever seen. Since then, I have had a desire do some more research in effort to share the diversity we find in our world’s oceans. Everyone should have the chance to learn about Bryozoans.
But first, I want to share a thought that Dr. Eric Sanford shared in one of my classes. Of all the animals we have discovered a whopping 98% of them are invertebrates yet, throughout human history, we have given an unfair amount of attention to vertebrates which only make up 2% of all animal life. While every animal is important, I believe that it is time that everyone recognizes the incredible diversity and beauty of living invertebrates (such as Bryozoans).
So what is a Bryazoan?
Bryozoans, also known as Moss animals, are some of the most common and abundant phyla (the primary categorization of a group of animals based off body plan). There are approximately 4,000 known living species of Bryozoans and are known to exist all around the globe including the cold waters of the Antarctic and as deep as 8200 meters below the surface of the ocean! These species are found mostly in coastal waters attached to rocks, algae, and on the shells of living animals.
Encrusting bryozoan Membranipora tuberculate, photo by the Monterey Bey Aquarium
Simplified diagram of zoid and lophophore, figure modified from Dr. Sanfords EVE114 lecture slides
These curious creatures are colonial and sessile animals that are made of individuals that are about 0.5 mm in length (Basically, they never get lonely). The individual members of these colonies are encased within a small protective covering known as a zoid. There are two major types of zoid arrangements in bryozoans: (1) Stoloniferous which means that the individual zoids arise separately from a stolon (think Christmas lights: the lights are the zoids and the cord is the stolon) and (2) Non-stoloniferous which can vary in shape but ultimately means that all the zoids are connected to each other rather than arising separately from a stolon. Non-stoloniferous bryozoans can have upright branching structures, foliaceus (leaf-like) structures, or flat encrusting colonies (although they are not limited to these).
Branched and upright bryozoan Bugula californica, photo by Jenn Burt
Bryozoans use their lophophores to be effective suspension feeders. Within each zoid there is a lophophore which is the defining characteristics of the individual members of the colony. They look like small flowers but, instead of petals, they have tentacles that curve radially outward. These tentacles are covered in cilia (hair like vibrating structures) that create a current that directs water between their tentacles. Small phytoplankton are driven into their funnels along with the water current. When food touches their vibrating cilia, it bounces the particle upstream and then rolls it down into the mouth with the flicking motions. When non-food particles (like sand) come into contact with lophophores, the cilia bounce it out and away from the individual. The particle is then bounced to one of the neighboring individuals which does the same and so on. The result is that you get a bunch of lophophores bouncing around a grain of sand the same way that a crowd may bounce around a ball at a concert or a sports event (Basically, they know how to party).
The bryozoan “chimney”, diagram from Dr. Sanfords EVE114 lecture slides
As water flows through each lophophore in the colony, pressure begins to build underneath. Studies have found that bryozoans exhibit a very interesting behavior in order to alleviate this pressure. The individual lophophores shift towards each other creating gaps between them called “chimneys”. This way pressure is relieved by releasing water at a high velocity. This method also reduces the chances of re-sampling water. These high ex-current velocity openings allow the water to shoot out and far from the colony and no longer within their immediate surroundings.
These sessile invertebrates may seem vulnerable to predation, but research has discovered one species of bryozoans has inducible defenses. A study by Harvell (1984) found that predation by nudibranchs triggers defensive spines in the bryozoan Membranipora membranacea. Previously this kind of inducible defense was only observed in plants, rotifers (microscopic aquatic invertebrates), and cladocerans (small crustaceans also known as water fleas). Photos taken by California naturalist Jackie Sones, show that spines were protruded from the edges where zoids connect. A video taken at BML by Dr. Eric Sanford shows how the attack from the nudibranch can induce these nasty spines (well, nasty for the nudibranch).
The spines on the bryozoan Membranipora membranacea, photo by Jackie Sones
The next time you go to the beach, go diving, or find yourself at a marina, take a closer look at the life living beneath the water. Bryozoans are easy to find if you know what to look for (hopefully now you know what to look for) and even though the individuals zoids are to small for the naked eye the structures that the colonies make worth seeing first hand. They are truly one of the most bazaar and fascinating animals that remind us that life can come in all kinds of shapes and sizes. #teambryozoan
The beach is quiet except for the chilling sound of the crashing waves as the ambiance fills the crisp salty air. Its dawn and the sky becomes shades of light blue and purple. I rub my eyes and look at my watch. It’s 6:04 am. I begin to walk towards to the fortress of carefully assembled rocks in the distance. As I march over, I listen to a flock of gulls fly overhead but I’m to busy scanning the beach for evidence of mole crabs to look up. I reach the exposed rocks. Many are disguised under clumps of green algae and densely packed mussel beds. I take a closer look and notice hundreds of tiny black snails filling all the empty space on the rocks. I begin to climb over them carefully as I make my way to the deeper pools of water. I come to a stop and stare at the water’s surface but I can barely make out anything through the vivid reflections of the sky. Slowly as the tides create ripples shifting the water, I begin to make out the colors of the radiant green anemones and the bright orange sea stars. The longer I stare the more I notice. In the bushes of red algae, I see small blue-banded hermit crabs carrying a variety of stolen snail shells on their backs and what seems like thousands of bobbing skeleton shrimp no longer than a centimeter. I begin to scan the densely packed blades of surf grass and notice a kelp crab sitting very still underneath a few the sharp green blades. As I get closer it begins to crawl away. I reach in and shift a few of the blades when I notice a spot of vivid orange. I quickly reach in ignoring the cold water and bring it towards the surface in the palm of my hand. What seems like a small orange booger slowly begins to take shape. It’s a nudibranch. It crawls on the palm of my hand scanning it’s surroundings with it’s two front tentacles. The cirata are orange with a white strike along each protrusion. After I get a long and satisfying look, I place the little slug like creature back into the water. I turn up and look at the sky now filled with brighter shades of blue and feel the cold refreshing wind as it alerts my senses. I very steadily raise my arms out and a rush of air fills my sleeves sending a chill down my spine. I close my eyes. I am where I need to be.
One of the earliest memories I can recall is of me playing with small little plastic toys in the shapes of whales, seals, octopuses, sea turtles, and even sea stars during every bath. I was obsessed with sea life. I remember taking my little figurines with me everywhere (I can only imagine the handful I was for my parents). I have this very vivid memory from when I was either 4 or 5. I was at a family party and some other kid took my little toy fish. He never gave it back and I can still feel the tears rolling uncontrollably down my face as sat in my mothers lap crying for my “fishy” back.
Fast forwards to 5th grade (sometime between 2008 and 2009). One day my teacher brought in her husband who had been working with the team that was sending a remote controlled submersible known as the Alvin into the depths of the ocean. To be honest, I don’t remember if he was a marine scientist or an engineer but I was left in awe when he showed us footage of the submersible being deployed. Even though I didn’t really understand what I was looking at, I had decided that I was going to be a Marine Biologist. That night I was thrilled to share everything I had learned at school but when I told my parents that I wanted to be a Marine biologists I was discouraged almost immediately. At least from what I remember, my father lectured me about how I needed to get a job like a Doctor or a Lawyer. I was going to make no money as Marine biologist.
My father has always wanted the best for me. He taught me how to work hard, how to respect others, and to always be the best that I can be. Regardless of his well intent, I unfortunately grew up thinking that anything related to life sciences was not an career option. As I grew older, I stopped thinking about sea life and the ocean. I went through all of high school not even once considering any kind of biological sciences major when applying to universities. I started college at UC Davis in the fall of 2016 as a Political Sciences major but switched out of it within the first 2 weeks of school. I struggled through my first two years because I didn’t feel like I was studying something I was passionate about.
After a series of difficult experiences, new friendships, and constant moments of contemplation, I made the decision to switch into the Marine and Coastal Sciences major. It took me half a year to build up the courage and tell my Mother what I had decided to do (I still have not explicitly told my father). She supported me and my decision but I know that they both would rather I focus my time on a career path that would, in their understanding, make me a lot of money. I can’t blame them. The values they have were shaped by the financial hardships that have dealt with their entire life. Still, its painful to think that they will never really understand what it is that I love about the ocean.
So now that I have given a brief picture of my life story, I want to explain how the name of this blog relates to my experiences. The definition of undercurrent is as follows:
UN·DER·CUR·RENT NOUN 1. A SUBSURFACE CURRENT THAT FLOWS IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION TO THE SURFACE CURRENT.
Undercurrents flow discretely in the opposite direction of the surface currents the same way that I feel I am taking my life in the opposite direction than what my parents would choose for me. As dramatic as it may sound, I feel like I am completely taking my life in a direction that most of my family sees as “unworthy” of my time and effort. But after having spent the last 12 months pursuing this degree, I have found myself more confident and excited as ever. I am all the more certain about my decision which has only been possible because of the struggles I have had to overcome.
The purpose of this blog isn’t to talk about my struggles. I want to share my experiences as an undergrad, talk about subjects I find fascinating, and make important topics in marine science more accessible. By doing this I hope not only expand my understanding of the ocean and the many creatures living both beneath the waves and on the coasts but be able break down complicated ideas into a more digestible discussion. So feel free to sit down, drink some warm tea (or any beverage of your choice), and join me in exploring the wonderful system that is the ocean.
The Undercurrent 