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2

Sometimes things just work out, through no fault of my own. In terms of good minus tides occurring in daylight hours, this weekend's tides are the best we will have all season. Today (Saturday 29 May) is the third of five intertidal excursions I have planned. This morning I went up to Pistachio Beach to collect some things for the Seymour Center. I always feel a teensy bit apprehensive agreeing to collect for anybody but myself, because it is quite likely that I will get skunked and not be able to bring back what is needed. So usually I just agree to keep my eyes open for things that are on the wish list and make no promises.

The current wish list for the Seymour Center includes fishes. I've already brought them some sculpins and a clingfish, but small pricklebacks are also welcome. Pistachio is a popular place for people who fish for large pricklebacks. Apparently they (the pricklebacks) put up a good fight and make tasty eating. The usual way of fishing for them is poke-poling. I am not entirely sure how that works, but it involves a long pole and baited hooks. I think the idea is to lure a prickleback out from its hiding place at low tide, when it is sort of stranded away from open water. Adults get up to 70-80 cm long, and are as big around as my forearm.

Unlike the fishermen, I was fishing for young pricklebacks, hoping to find some that were about the length of my hand. Possessing the ideal set of characteristics for avoiding capture—a long eel-like body, small head, slimy coating, and the ability to augur really quickly into even the tiniest crack amongst the cobbles—these small fish led me on a merry chase for quite a while. However, the advantages that I have over even a wily prickleback are an enlarged cerebral cortex, opposable thumbs, and the dexterity to use both a dip net and a zip-loc baggie. When all was said and done I had two appropriately sized pricklebacks in my baggie, and two others had gotten away from me. Oh, and I did also bag another clingfish!

Having had that bit of success and not wanting to press my luck, I started poking around just for the hell of it, without any clear objective in mind. As I've said before, what we gain from a super low tide like this (-1.6 ft) is not only access to more real estate in the low intertidal, but more time to spend there before the tide returns. I took lots of photos, which I will present in chronological order. These will give you an idea of what it was like out there this morning.

Even the hike across the beach yielded something nice—this small stand of Postelsia palmaeformis, the sea palm. These poor junior kelps will be taking a beating with these spring tides rushing up and down. That's the price they pay for living out there on those exposed rocky points.

Group of 6 sea palms on the beach
06:53 Postelsia palmaeformis
2021-05-29
© Allison J. Gong

The leather star Dermasterias imbricata isn't one of the most common stars in the intertidal around here. It was one of the species that was hit pretty hard by the most recent outbreak of Sea Star Wasting Syndrome. We see one every so often, but they are nowhere as abundant as the ochre stars or bat stars.

07:10 Dermasterias imbricata
2021-05-29
© Allison J. Gong

Pistachio Beach isn't the best place for large anemones, but of course there are some. This is one of the few big Anthopleura anemones that I saw today. There are many of the small cloning anemones, A. elegantissima, in the high intertidal, as well as the moonglow anemones, A. artemisia, in the mid and low sandy areas.

07:12 Anthopleura xanthogrammica
2021-05-29
© Allison J. Gong

I was so pleased to see my favorite red alga doing really well in the low zone! It is so pretty.

Red seaweed
07:29 Erythrophyllum delesserioides
2021-05-29
© Allison J. Gong

And at the same time I accidentally discovered a pretty big rock crab, which was tucked under a rock. For its species, this one was pretty calm and didn't come at me with big claws up. It could be that this crab is a male, and is clasping a female beneath him. I didn't check.

Dorsal view of a rock crab
07:29 Romaleon antennarium
2021-05-29
© Allison J. Gong

One of the things I found while turning over rocks to look for fish is this purple urchin:

Sea urchin with purple and green coloration
08:02 Strongylocentrotus purpuratus
2021-05-29
© Allison J. Gong

And a bit later, a nice healthy group of Dictyoneurum californicum. As these thalli age, they will develop longitudinal splits at the base of the blades. Right now they are young and crispy.

Blades of a brown seaweed with a waffle-like texture
08:15 Dictyoneurum californicum
2021-05-29
© Allison J. Gong

And who can resist such an exuberantly decorated limpet? Certainly not I! Reminds me of the fancy hats that ladies used to wear for Easter. Or Beach Blanket Babylon.

Limpet heavily fouled with encrusting and upright coralline algae
08:28 Limpet, probably Lottia sp.
2021-05-29
© Allison J. Gong

Chitons, the overlooked molluscs that reach peak abundance and diversity in the intertidal, can be very common along the coast. Species composition varies from site to site, though. Here at Pistachio Beach, the two species of Tonicella are very common. I found several of them on the undersides of rocks. This one is T. lokii.

Chiton with dark wavy lines on the shell plates and alternating pink and beige patches on the girdle
08:52 Tonicella lokii
2021-05-29
© Allison J. Gong

After two hours of catching fish and looking around, I was getting cold. Time to head back up and out. That took an additional half-hour or so, because I kept getting distracted by the algae. For example, look at how beautiful this Fucus is. And note the swollen tips, which mean this thallus is getting sexy. 'Tis the season, after all.

Olive-green seaweed with wide dichotomous branches and swollen branch tips
09:15 Fucus distichus
2021-05-29
© Allison J. Gong

One of the other rockweeds, Pelvetiopsis limitata, was also very thick and abundant.

Olive-green seaweed with narrow dichotomous branches
09:19 Pelvetiopsis limitata
2021-05-29
© Allison J. Gong

The rockweeds share the high intertidal with a few species of red algae. The most common reds in this zone are the two (or however many there are) species of Mastocarpus, and Endocladia muricata.

Reddish-brown seaweed with wavy blades, covered with tiny bumps
09:21 Mastocarpus papillatus
2021-05-29
© Allison J. Gong

I always want to stop and look around in the high zone on my way down. Because when I walk past sights like this, it's hard not to stay and study more closely. Then I remember that I can take as much time as I want in the high zone on the way out. This morning I took lots of photos of these reds and rockweeds.

How many different types of seaweed can you see?

09:24 High intertidal algal assemblage
2021-05-29
© Allison J. Gong

So there you have it, my morning summarized in about a dozen photos. I hope your Saturday was as enjoyable as mine was!

The rocky intertidal is coming into its full summer glory right now. The early morning low tides have been spectacular in May, and they'll get better for the remaining few days of the month. This morning I went out to Franklin Point to poke around. Low tide was -1.8 feet (yippee!) at 06:13. And for once the swell was also down, so the ocean seemed very far away from the mid-tidal zone. See?

Intertidal rocks covered with algae and surfgrass
Rocky intertidal at Franklin Point
2021-05-27
© Allison J. Gong

One thing that's nice about Franklin Point is that despite its exposure, especially on the north side of the point, all those boulders provide a lot of protection from the incoming waves. It's amazing how they serve to dissipate the water's energy. Of course, that doesn't prevent the inevitable rise of water in the pools, but at least when it arrives it just floods boots instead of knocking down a distracted marine biologist.

Here's a 20-second video I shot from the same spot.

Just as in any terrestrial habitat, summer is when the photosynthetic organisms come to dominate the rocky intertidal. Even a cursory glance shows that every surface is covered with algae and/or surfgrass. So why not showcase some of these organisms when they look their best?

Fronds of feather boa kelp
Feather boa kelp (Egregia menziesii)
2021-05-27
© Allison J. Gong

In terms of biomass, Egregia is by far the most abundant alga along our intertidal coast. Individual fronds can be 5+ meters long, and several fronds arise from each holdfast. Higher up in the mid tidal zone the Egregia was forming curtains hanging down along vertical faces.

Large stand of feather boa kelp hanging down from rocks in the mid-tidal zone
Feather boa kelp (Egregia menziesii) and other intertidal algae
2021-05-27
© Allison J. Gong

But Egregia does know how to share the spotlight. Here it is posing with a couple of other low tidal denizens:

Egregia menziesii, Laminaria setchellii, and Phyllospadix torreyi
2021-05-27
© Allison J. Gong

That's Egregia on the left, of course. One of the laminarian kelps, Laminaria setchellii, is taking center stage in this shot. When it lives in the subtidal Laminaria setchellii is an understory kelp; it gets to about 1.5 meters tall and can form dense stands. In this species each holdfast gives rise to a single stipe that in turn opens into a wide blade that is deeply divided, as you can see. The surfgrass Phyllospadix torreyi is on the right. There is a lot of surfgrass in the rocky intertidal these days. It's pretty treacherous stuff, too. It's very slippery and likes to cover pools that are deeper than you'd expect. I've learned the hard way that it cannot be trusted at all.

My favorite seaweeds are always the reds. And my favorite of the reds is Erythrophyllum delesserioides, looking so lush and pretty this time of year. It is a low intertidal species, and can be locally abundant. Some years it seems to get beat up and look ratty, but this year it looks great. Here it is, surrounding a couple of Laminaria setchellii.

Leafy red seaweed and a brown kelp
Erythrophyllum delesserioides and Laminaria setchellii
2021-05-27
© Allison J. Gong

Here's a grouping of Erythrophyllum and some other reds. I can see two species of Mazzaella, and of course there are Egregia and Phyllospadix mingled together on the right. So pretty!

 in the rocky intertidal
Mixed assemblage of red algae (Mazzaella flaccida, Mazzaella splendens, and Erythrophyllum delesserioides)
2021-05-27
© Allison J. Gong

When the tide is as low as it was this morning, a marine biologist has a lot of time to explore. I had just about exhausted the batteries in both my camera and my phone and was getting uncomfortably cold when I decided to head in. On the way back I stopped to take a look at the rockweeds, which live in the high intertidal. Franklin Point isn't a hotspot for rockweed abundance or diversity, but I did see this nice thallus of Fucus.

Rockweed (Fucus distichus)
2021-05-27
© Allison J. Gong

Fucus is the seaweed with the bifurcated branch tips. The tips are starting to swell up, which means this thallus is getting ready to spawn. Of all the algae, rockweeds are unusual in that they have what phycologists call an "animal-like" life cycle. They don't have sporophytes or gametophytes. They just have bodies, or thalli. Some thalli are female and some are male. Instead of releasing multiple kinds of spores and whatnot, they release eggs and sperm. The resulting zygote develops as you would expect, only instead of forming a young animal it grows into a baby seaweed.

I do love that olive green color of the rockweeds, which belong to the phylum of brown algae (Ochrophyta). Notice that there's a bit of similarly colored sheetlike seaweed right below the Fucus. That seaweed has the same color, but is in the red algae (Phylum Rhodophyta). Once again, we are reminded that the algae cannot be reliably sorted into phyla based solely on color. Mother Nature can be very tricksy!

So there you have it, my trip report for this morning's excursion to Franklin Point. The tides are excellent for the next several days, and I will be out there for most of them. This is my favorite time of the year.

A week ago I snagged a stint with a traveling nature journal that is making the rounds. It's a nature journal that is being sent to whoever wants to take it. Each user keeps the journal for five days or until five pages are filled, then sends it on to the next person. I was lucky enough to be the first person to respond when it became available, and the journal arrived chez moi this past Monday.

I gotta say, thumbing through the journal and looking at the work of the folks who had it before me was both thrilling and a little intimidating. But it was so exciting to get to study other people's nature journal pages. Just seeing the different styles and focuses was a fantastic learning experience for me. At first I wondered how the heck I would find five pages' worth of stuff to write/draw about in five days. However, something about having the book in hand released the mental block and stuff just flowed onto the pages. Oh, there was a lot of erasing and a little trepidation the first time I put pen to paper, but overall it was a lot of fun.

Anyway, here are my pages.

Monday 2021-05-17 I found the not-so-secret nesting spot for the Brandt's cormorants. This is apparently a new site for them. I had a lot of fun with the cormorants on the rock—all those postures to study and draw! And I'm very pleased with the larger pair in the corner. They actually look like cormorants!


Tuesday 2021-05-18 The journal has both white paper and tan toned paper. Nobody had used any of the toned pages yet. I decided to use it for these sketches of blooming sand plants. My favorite sketch on this page is the California poppies.


Wednesday 2021-05-19 While flipping through the photos I had taken at Asilomar over the weekend, I decided to draw some of the molluscs. My favorite on this page is the turban snail. And octopuses are really hard to draw!


Thursday 2021-05-20 I used my last two pages to diagram sea urchin larval development. The difficult thing about this page was getting the layout to flow the way I wanted. I used about half an eraser, trying different arrangements of text and drawings! The sketches themselves were not that difficult, as I've drawn these larvae many times before.


So there you have it—a week's worth of nature journaling. It was an immense honor and pleasure to participate in this living document of nature observations. I've sent the traveling journal up to Anchorage, Alaska, and am excited to see what the next person does with it.

1

As we speed towards the summer solstice the days continue to get longer. The early morning low tides are much easier to get up for, as the sky is lightening by 05:30. Even so, when traveling an hour to get to the site, it's nice when the low is later than that. This past Saturday the low wasn't until 08:00. My parents were in Monterey for the weekend, so I decided it would be a good day to work the tide at the southern end of Monterey Bay, and then visit my parents. The Monterey Peninsula has some of the most spectacular tidepooling terrain in the region, and if I lived closer you can bet I'd know those sites better. Not that there is anything at all wrong with the sites on my end of the Bay and up the coast. But sometimes it's good to get out of one's comfort zone and explore the less well known.

Rocks and tidepools
Rocky intertidal at Asilomar State Beach
2021-05-15
© Allison J. Gong

So explore we did. It was cold and windy. The tide wasn't all that low and the swell was up, so we didn't get beyond the mid-tidal zone. My hip boots have deteriorated to the point that I have pinprick leaks at the seam where the boot part meets the leg part. Usually the tiny leaks don't bother me, but when the water is cold I definitely feel the trickles. What all this means is that I didn't get down into the low zone, which is fine. Biodiversity is highest in the mid zone anyway. The mediocrity of the low tide meant that I had to keep an eye out for sneaker swells, so less heads-down poking around and more scanning from above and then zooming in on individual items of interest.

One thing we noticed right away is that groups of Tegula funebralis, the black turban snail, were clumped together above the waterline of the high pools.

I'm trying to decide whether or not this is noteworthy. The pattern did catch my eye, but that might be only because it's unusual (although not particularly interesting). It was a cold and drizzly morning, so the snails didn't have to worry about desiccation. Was the clumping together benefiting the snails in any significant way? Hard to say.

The T. funebralis were also clumping together in the water! Here's a large clump of Tegula shells in a pool.

Clump of black turban snails in a tidepool
Black turban snails (Tegula funebralis) and one hermit crab (Pagurus samuelis)
2021-05-15
© Allison J. Gong

Almost all of these are snails, but can you see the one that is a hermit crab?

Poor Tegula funebralis. It is so common that it is invisible and vastly underappreciated. I find them quite charming, though. There's something about a grazing snail's slow way of life that is very soothing. Not that you might not fall asleep waiting for them to do something interesting, but it is good to slow down to the pace of nature. Anyway, Tegula is one of my favorite animals, precisely because it is so unassuming and ignored. One of delightful things about Tegula funebralis is when it plays host to Crepidula adunca. I've written about the biology of C. adunca before and don't want to rehash that here. I just wanted to show off my favorite photo of this trip to Asilomar:

Black turban snail with two attached slipper snails
Black turban snail (Tegula funebralis) wearing two slipper snails (Crepidula adunca)
2021-05-15
© Allison J. Gong

I don't know why I like this photo so much. It certainly isn't the best shot I've ever taken. There isn't any vibrant color at all. The subjects are the same color as the background. But it works for me.

When it comes to a snail's pace, you can't find anything slower than Thylacodes. That's because Thylacodes squamigerus is the snail that lives in a calcareous tube. Much like a barnacle, or the serpulid worms that have similar tubes, Thylacodes makes one decision about where to live and lives there for the rest of its life. I see Thylacodes at places like Pigeon Point up north, but they are much more abundant on the Monterey Peninsula.

Tube snail (Thylacodes squamigerus)
2021-05-15
© Allison J. Gong

And the snail winners in the Most Likely to be Overlooked have got to be the littorines. These little snails (most of which are smaller than 15 mm) live in the highest intertidal, where they get splashed by the ocean just often enough to keep their gill sufficiently moist. They are never entirely submerged, but they do tend to gather in cracks, even the tiniest of which will hold water longer than a flat rock surface.

Littorines (Littorina keenae) in the splash zone
2021-05-15
© Allison J. Gong

If you look closely at the photo above, you might see pairs of mating snails. Given where they live, high up in the intertidal where they are rarely covered by water, broadcast spawning isn't a viable option for the littorines. They have to copulate. There are, I think, eight copulating pairs in this group of ~30 snails.

Copulating pairs of Littorina keenae
2021-05-15
© Allison J. Gong

Because Littorina's habitat makes broadcast spawning an unfeasible option, the snails must lay eggs. But the splash zone isn't a very friendly place for the eggs of marine animals. The littorines lay eggs in gelatinous masses in crevices or depressions where water will remain. After a week or so of development, the egg mass dissolves as it gets splashed, and veliger larvae emerge. They recruit back to the intertidal after spending some period of time in the plankton.

When all is said and done it's difficult to make the claim that snails live exciting lives. Nonetheless, they are interesting animals. The diversity of morphology and lifestyle we see in the intertidal snails makes them eminently worthy of study and appreciation. I like to think that, as biologists once again "discover" the usefulness of natural history, students will be encouraged to fill in some of the gaps in our understanding of these and other abundant animals.

It never really feels like springtime until the swallows have returned to the marine lab. This year the barn swallows (Hirundo rustica) came back right on schedule in the last week of March. They have been flying around ever since. I've seen them gathering mud on the banks of Younger Lagoon, but they haven't been very serious about nest building. The cliff swallows (Petrochelidon pyrrhonota), on the other hand, were late arrivals, and I was beginning to worry about them. I didn't see the first cliff swallow until the 1st of May.

Unlike the barn swallows, the cliff swallows immediately started spackling mud on the buildings. There have been a few aborted attempts, but overall they have been very busy little birds. I've been keeping an eye on one nest in particular, as it seems to be the one progressing most rapidly. This nest is located on a building that has been used every year, by both barn swallows and cliff swallows. In previous years I've seen and photographed the nests side-by-side. There isn't any reason to expect them not to nest together again.

So here's what has been going on so far.

The first stage is a simple shelf of mud. The birds are building on vertical walls, but corners where they can use two walls are prime locations. Even a tiny ledge can be used to support those first splats of mud, and once the mud dries it becomes foundation for additional layers. See the mud in the swallow's beak?

Sometimes the birds get this far and then decide to abandon the nest. And sometimes they keep going. Here's what's going on less than a meter away from this nest.

Four cliff swallows building mud nests on wooden walls
Cliff swallows (Petrochelidon pyrrhonota)
2021-05-07
© Allison J. Gong

Notice how the birds use their tails as braces so they can cling onto vertical walls. Woodpeckers do the same thing. Of the four birds in the photo above, the two outer ones look like they're just starting to build. I've seen two birds flying in and out of that larger nest, but have no idea whether or not they're the same two birds every time. I suspect they are a mated pair.

The cliff swallow's nest is the gourd-shaped one, with a body that narrows to a much smaller opening just big enough for one bird to pass through. When the nest I was watching got to the stage in the photo above, I thought the opening would be on the left, since there's already a nice curve along that side of the front edge.

I might be kind of right. Today the opening is much narrower, and located off-center towards the left.

Cliff swallow nest on wooden walls
Cliff swallow (Petrochelidon pyrrhonota) nest
2021-05-09
© Allison J. Gong

This nest may be finished tomorrow or the next day. It will have taken the birds about a week from start to finish.

Why are there no birds near the nest, you may ask? Well, when I walked out of the building I noticed that all of the swallows were in the air, and nobody was at the nest site. The birds were making alarm calls and flying around, but it didn't look like they were feeding, and none were returning to the nests even for short visits. I looked around and up and found the reason for the swallows' unrest.

Red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis)
2021-05-09
© Allison J. Gong

The hawk was perched directly across from the swallows' nest site, and the swallows were not happy about it.

(For some reason the embedded video isn't working right now. You can watch it from YouTube directly by clicking on that link in the lower left corner.)

Some of the swallows flying around the hawk were barn swallows. I think they are nesting in the breezeway of the building under the hawk. Anyway, the hawk's presence was obviously upsetting to all of the swallows. It hung out for about 10 minutes and then flew away over the field. And immediately, the cliff swallows got right back down to the important business of building a home for the next generation.

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