Little Goose

just when you forb you were safe.

Saturday July 20 2024

We wake up still in the Sandman Reef Islands. The plan for the day is to check out four control islands for vegetation surveys. These islands are not likely to have slugs on them, so we’re going to check what the baseline diversity of a healthy slug-free island is, so we can compare them to the islands that DO have slugs and get a sense of the damage they’re doing. 

Sushilonoi and Patton are the morning’s islands. Because the water around them is uncharted, the Tiĝlax̂ can’t get close, so the skiff rides can be 30-40 minutes each way. There are two skiffs, so we’re only sending two parties. I’m staying on the boat as a non-scientist. 

We drop off Kim, Joey and Katie at Patton (Ray drives the skiff). It’s a tiny place covered in gulls and puffins. A pair of bald eagles glare at them as they slip and slide across the rocks. To prevent contamination the teams are bringing absolutely minimal stuff, just what they can cram into their waders.

Sushilonoi is about half an hour away. Stacey, Aaron, Mike and Brie get dropped off there and the Tiĝlax̂ putters around. John fishes, I paint, Ben does homework, Lauren does mysterious Lauren things. It’s nice getting an opportunity to rest and do laundry, but as the hours wear on I get squirmy. Here’s the FOMO again. 

One silver lining - the stay-behinds get to have lunch on board, which is amaaaazing halibut salad. Katie, Aaron, Mike and John are fishing several times a day and the hum of the vacuum sealer is getting very familiar. I have never fished before but it’s getting tempting. 

The Patton team seems to have a lot of fun. Kim shows me pictures of eggs, baby gulls and a puffin crammed terrified into a rock. I’m vibrating with envy. 

There is a wrench in the works when Sushilonoi tests positive for black slugs. Whoops. Their control survey turns into slug counting instead. Once they’re back the decontamination protocol commences. They soak their boots and waders in hydrogen peroxide solution and leave float coats and bags at the waterline, which is safe from slugs. I’m getting used to the sight of wader-legs flapping on the clothesline like a deflated person.

We regroup a little bit once everyone is hosed off. There are two more control islands to check out, Goose and Little Goose, so two more teams are going.  I’m heading back into the field to Little Goose with Mike, Ben and Aaron. I have never been more eager to put on my clammy waders.

Little Goose is a puffin nesting habitat, and as the skiff approached looking for a landing area they swarmed around us like a snow flurry. Tufted and horned, barreling past the boat like little black footballs. I can’t get enough of these guys. Two chubby seals reluctantly budge from the rocks as we haul up the skiff.

Once we land we do a quick slug surveillance check along the beach edge and then head off in our teams to do plant surveys. 

I’ve been warned about hiking with Aaron. He runs in the mountains around Anchorage. He’s one of those… sports-guys. I look up and he’s already vanishing over the top of the hill. Meanwhile I’m falling in a knee-deep hole every three feet. I don’t know how no one has twisted an ankle yet. 

We have two randomly-assigned 30m x 30m plots on the island, which we mark off into nine 1m x 10m subplots and then count the types of plants inside of them. 

Here is what the types are:

Forb - something ferny

Umbel - a flower-cluster thing with lots of flower heads on a stalk

Leymus Grass - a very prominent beach grass

Graminoid - grass that isn’t Leymus Grass

Shrub - you know what a shrub is

As we tromp around to find our survey plots we can’t help but walk through puffin burrows. There is literally nowhere else to walk. The ground feels like swiss-cheese with little sweetie-homes and I feel like I’m dying inside as I step on them. If something terrible happens to me it’s because of the curse I am now cursed by.

Little Goose Island seems to be slug free and covered with healthy diverse plants and lots of seabirds, including a nest with a very cold and bored-looking baby bald eagle. 

Big Goose is not so lucky. The teams find black slugs. I get one drawing done while waiting for our ride. 

Back on the Tiĝlax̂ there’s a big meeting as we eat jambalaya, rice and banana bread. Our control islands are not so control after all. These slugs have spread further than anyone expected, and there’s debate about the merit of our quick and dirty little surveys.

What is more valuable? Just marking an island yes/no for slugs and moving on? Inspecting it thoroughly and drawing a line where they’ve penetrated on the island? We don’t have the manpower or equipment for “thoroughly”, anyway - these islands are so big and hard to walk across. Joey thinks they need to do permanent transects so surveys can be redone in the future.

The conclusion is there is no conclusion yet. We’re still learning, getting another piece of the slug mystery with each island. We’re going to stick with the plan check out Deer Island tomorrow, and see what happens. It also sounds like some bad weather is moving in tomorrow afternoon.

A nice thing: a boatful of biologists means there’s someone to answer every science question. A giant black and orange beetle lands on a forb during our survey. It’s got tiny tick-looking bugs on its back. Back on the boat I ask Joey, the entomologist, what it is, and in no time he’s worked out that it’s a Nicrophorus orbicollis, which has a commensal relationship with some mites that ride around on it like a little bus. Is that cool or what.

I also find this bright orange slime on a rock that Kim (the slime expert) tells me is a tunicate colonial. 

At least, she thinks it is. Unfortunately many of the biologists have lost their vision to seasickness patches.

We’ve had lovely calm seas for days and I’ve almost forgotten about seasickness. I debate putting my patch on again. I sure have enjoyed having working eyesight but it looks like things are going to get rougher. The slugs have scrambled the plans, and the weather is doing its part too.