Shorelines

by Marissa Sandoval

This is the final article in a 3-part series about ballast water. Part 1 provided a brief history of ballast water and its accompanying invasive species threats. Part 2 illustrated how scientists from the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center (SERC) are researching technology to prevent invasions and keeping an eye on current ones. This article shows how SERC scientists are working to predict vulnerable spots for ballast water invasion, using shipping networks and commercial trade information.

They say you can never step into the same river twice, since the water’s always running. The same could be said about waters on the shore. Not only do currents sweep the waves to and fro, but new seawater is also constantly being introduced from the ballast tanks of globetrotting ships.

It’s estimated that foreign ships discharge over 180 million metric tons of ballast water off U.S. coasts each year, according to the National Ballast Information Clearinghouse (NBIC). In each ton comes a chance for aquatic critters from foreign ports to invade new shores.

Coastal Organisms Thrive on Floating Plastic Debris in the “Great Pacific Garbage Patch”

by Kristen Goodhue

Watch: Marine biologist Linsey Haram describes how she studies life floating on plastic pollution that nonprofits and citizen scientists collect from the Pacific Ocean.

Coastal plants and animals have found a new way to survive in the open ocean—by colonizing plastic pollution. A new commentary published Dec. 2 in Nature Communications reports coastal species growing on trash hundreds of miles out to sea in the North Pacific Subtropical Gyre, more commonly known as the “Great Pacific Garbage Patch.”

Floating debris with a mix of coastal organisms (the yellow podded hydroids Aglaophenia pluma) and open-ocean organisms (Planes crab and gooseneck barnacles) collected in 2018 by the Ocean Cleanup in collaboration with the Smithsonian Institution. (Credit: The Ocean Cleanup)

“The issues of plastic go beyond just ingestion and entanglement,” said Linsey Haram, lead author of the article and former postdoctoral fellow at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center (SERC). “It’s creating opportunities for coastal species’ biogeography to greatly expand beyond what we previously thought was possible.”

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Mangroves are powerful players in fighting climate change, able to store more carbon per unit area than some tropical forests. Above-water roots like these help some mangroves survive in flooded, low-oxygen environments. (Credit: Jonathan Lefcheck/SERC)

by Kristen Goodhue

Mangrove forests try the grit—and grace—of even the most seasoned field ecologist. Flies. Heat. Mazes of trip hazards, from roots and dwarf mangroves jutting aboveground. Suction-cup mud that can pull researchers in up to their thighs.

“If you’re not careful, you can sink,” warned Hannah Morrissette, a postdoc with the Smithsonian Marine Station. Morrissette has explored mangroves in the Dominican Republic and Belize. She’s developed a healthy respect not just for their obstacles, but what they can offer society. “Trying to put a value on these is almost impossible, because of the breadth of their services,” she said.

It’s true: When it comes to protecting coastal economies and drinking up carbon, few ecosystems can compete with mangroves. But few ecosystems make scientists work harder to get the data to prove it.

“I would say, as somebody who’s six foot four, that mangroves are a short person’s game,” said Jonathan Lefcheck, a marine biologist with the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center.

Morrissette and Lefcheck were part of a larger team that journeyed through Belize this September. Dubbed the “Belize Blue Carbon Team,” they joined dozens of Belizean scientists to visit nine mangrove forests in under a month. Their mission: Bolster Belize’s efforts to fight climate change, by uncovering how much carbon its mangrove forests can lock away.
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by Kristen Goodhue

Carrie Bow Cay, the Smithsonian’s tropical island field station in Belize. (Credit: Zachary Foltz/Smithsonian Marine Station)

Caribbean corals have been through a rough few decades. Between the 1970s and early 2000s, the region’s hard coral coverage dropped over 80%, largely fueled by climate change and harmful algal growth from overfishing and pollution. But on the island of Carrie Bow Cay in Belize, biologists discovered signs of a possible comeback.

Stony corals on the island’s outer rings—known as forereefs—more than doubled in just five years. A new study published this fall in the Nature journal Scientific Reports documents the recovery.  Click to continue »

Biologists Linda McCann and Kristen Larson at the Colón Container Terminal on the Atlantic side of the Panama Canal. (Credit: Carmen SchlÖder/STRI)

by Marissa Sandoval

If you were to imagine the busiest shipping hot spots in the world, would you think of the Panama Canal? Since its creation in 1914, the Panama Canal has seen over 1.1 million transits. In 2020 alone, over 13,000 ship transits carried natural gas, petroleum, dry goods, and (you can probably guess) invasive species.

In a recently published study, biologists found just how busy sedentary marine invertebrates, or invertebrates that generally don’t move about, and their predators have been around the Panama Canal. Even though sedentary invertebrates don’t move much on their own as adults, you’d be surprised how many species appeared where they didn’t belong, thanks to high shipping intensity in Panama. Click to continue »

by Deva Holliman

Chia-Hao Chang-Yang works on the 2019 annual mortality survey in a rainforest plot in Fushan, Taiwan. (Credit: Ting-Hsuan Kuo)

In 2003, Chia-Hao Chang-Yang, a researcher at Taiwan’s National Sun Yat-Sen University, began monitoring tree seedlings growing in a subtropical rainforest plot in Fushan, Taiwan. He and his colleagues tagged all tree seedlings from the new emergent sprouts up to 2 meters tall. They returned every six months to check on their growth.

For the next 16 years, Chang-Yang and his team returned and repeated the measurements. By the end, they had identified 13,818 seedlings from 40 different tree species.

Over all those years, only one seedling grew into a sapling taller than two meters. The other seedlings either stayed small—growing at a snail’s pace—or perished.

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by Marissa Sandoval

This is Part 2 of a series that explores the concerns of invasive species introduced by ballast water and the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center’s role in combating them. Part 1 offered an overview of ballast water and the threats it poses to coastal communities. Part 2 dives into SERC scientists monitoring invasions and researching solutions.

Whenever a truck brings fresh fruits and veggies into the U.S., an inspector checks them for disease or insect pests. But what about imports that come from the ocean? Global shipping has long caused concern over invasive species spread. If introduced species on land are a headache for environmental managers, then successful marine invaders are chronic migraines. They’re terribly difficult to locate, catch and eliminate out in the open ocean and even in large bays. And even when teams spend years of hard work, nature—even non-native species—somehow finds a way.

To be fair, the vast majority of introduced marine organisms have negligible impacts. Those comparatively harmless species outnumber by far the aggressive ones we hear about in the news. However, the lucky few invertebrates that do get a bad reputation—like the ones in the infographic below—have usually earned it. These species often hurt native species and the surrounding environment. Worse, they can spread like wildfire in the bay.

(Infographic by Sofia Baah and Marissa Sandoval)
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A Scandinavian cargo ship sits tall in the Port of Auckland, New Zealand. (Credit: Tim Adams. CC License)

by Marissa Sandoval

If you’ve ever walked through shrubs only to find critters or seeds on you after you’ve gotten home, you already know a bit about what coastal states deal with regularly. Every week, hundreds of ships arrive in California ports and bring organisms latched on to their exterior. Commercial ships tend to be larger, with arrivals from foreign countries and domestic vessels traveling along the coast. Meanwhile, recreational ships are much smaller, generally do only regional travel and often more idle. But both can act as vectors for the infamous occurrence known as “biofouling,” when small organisms colonize surfaces below water.

“As soon as something settles, similar to the fouling community on our rocky shore, you’ve got succession like barnacles and mussels,” said Gail Ashton, a biologist with the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center (SERC). “Anything that can attach very strongly will do so first. Then you get crevices and amongst those, other animals will be able to settle on top. You get a community building up over time.”

Though a few stowaways may not seem like a cause for concern, invasive organisms that come along for the ride on ship hulls can endanger native wildlife and commercial shellfisheries. To prevent further invasions and minimize the risks associated with biofouling, the International Maritime Organization (IMO) published hull fouling guidelines in 2011 for the maritime shipping industry.

The problem was, the guidelines were just that: suggestions that should be taken, but could be ignored.

Then, in 2017, California and New Zealand decided to take matters into their own hands. They developed regulatory regimes based on the IMO guidelines and published a study on lessons learned in the first year with the new rules in place. Click to continue »

Cownose rays are migratory animals that come into the Chesapeake in summer and swim to Florida for the winter. (Credit: Jay Fleming/Smithsonian)

by Marissa Sandoval

While most students around the country are returning from summer break, some schools stay in session year-round—those under the sea, that is. Schools of marine organisms will migrate great lengths in search of food, breeding grounds, or safety from predation. So unless you want to be left behind, attendance is mandatory for migratory marine animals. 

Luckily, some animals have migratory cues that prompt them to depart en masse. The charismatic cownose ray (Rhinoptera bonasus) is one of them. 

In a new study published Sept. 9 in the journal Ecosphere, researchers led by Chuck Bangley and Matt Ogburn at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center (SERC) and Robert Fisher at the Virginia Institute of Marine Science (VIMS) pinpointed which variables cue the rays to and from their summer and winter homes. What’s more, male and female rays may respond to different cues to leave their winter habitat in Florida. Meanwhile, at the end of the summer, both sexes travel together—though climate change may affect their future travel plans. 
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