Friday, 24 November 2017

Beauty in Small Dimensions

Getting recognition in science is an uphill battle. Not only do you feel the need to come up with original research but you have to budget, do the fieldwork, collate the results, analyse the results and then write it up. There's also an element of selling your work, which is one of the main reasons I decided to start writing Voice of the Spineless.

If you read the last blog, you know that my subject area revolves around the group of animals known as the Cnidaria. Likewise, I was determined to study them as part of my honours thesis, despite none of my university's staff having any expertise in this field. Luckily, I knew that I could get my hands on Hydra.

The best way to describe Hydra is by comparing it to a sea anemone, which I'm sure you will have at least seen once in your life. Unlike sea anemones, Hydra live in freshwater. They also tend to be a helluva lot smaller; which can make them difficult to handle. But nevertheless cute!

Hydra circumcincta: Loch Torr, Isle of Mull, 2015

Originally my supervisor thought that a species survey on Scottish Hydra would be a good idea. It didn't take me long to realise that I had to move quickly if I wanted to get the work done. As my project didn't have a great budget, there was no way that I'd be able to analyse species by their DNA bar code, so I had to work on identifying them based on their stinging cells. Although that, in itself, took months and months seeing as the really old papers that described the animals couldn't agree on what was important in species identification!

By the end of those few months I knew I'd be able to do it; but I'd told my supervisor that I didn't think it would be a good idea as it would've taken too long for me to become fluent in species identification. So I'd come up with a different project idea...

As you know, the trips to Egypt enthralled me by way of all those pretty coral reefs. Those coral reefs are under threat from increasing water temperatures due to climate change which initiates a biological phenomenon known as coral bleaching - I'm sure you'll at least have heard of this, too.

Unlike most animals that rely on eating food. Corals have the ability of generating their own food through photosynthesis, just like plants. In fact, corals have algae within their stomach cells that photosynthesise. In coral bleaching the coral's buddies somehow get destroyed or expelled. And no one has been able to find a way to prevent it from happening. Although this is beginning to change.

Due to many corals being listed as endangered, it's notoriously difficult (and expensive) to remove them from their natural habitat and then subject them to potentially harmful treatments to, either, measure their response to the heat stress, or to try out new methods on the exposed corals themselves. Luckily, one species of Hydra has that sort of you-help-me-and-I'll-help-you scenario going on in its own stomach cells; and they are not endangered.

Hence why I decided to see if I could make them behave like coral when they're heat-treated.

The green colour of this Hydra species is because of the presence of algae within the animal's stomach cells. These algae produce sugar from the light energy of the sun and, thus provide both animal and plant with an abundance of food. Imagine if it were possible for us to do that! What a cool notion! As an aside, I first heard of the idea of humanoids photosynthesising on an Australian sci-fi tv series called Farscape. I'd definitely consider watching it if you're a fan of space operas! 

My hero! Hydra viridissima: Mugdock Country Park, Glasgow, 2015
Near the "head" of the animal, you might be able to make out a transparent lump on the left hand side. This lump is actually a testicle, believe it or not. What's more, this species of Hydra are capable of transforming into females after being males. Whether they can transform back is currently unknown.

Now I could go on and on about my project, however I think going through it would probably be a bad idea as I'd never get this blog finished! If you want to read my thesis, it's available here.

Suffice it to say, that my project was good enough to receive an A grade. It was the first time in my life where I actually experienced true joy. I worked like I had a purpose, and the work itself was rewarding. I also managed to prove my hypothesis that Hydra viridissima did show changes in its algal densities following the thermal treatment. Proving a hypothesis in science is a major deal. One of the first things you learn about science is that 95% of your research will yield nothing but negative results. Overall it seemed that my hard work paid off.

By the way, remember earlier I told you about how I explored the possibility of surveying the different Hydra species in Scotland? I felt so encouraged by my efforts with Hydra viridissima that I decided to add a species survey component as a separate project within my overall thesis. You'll find that that's the first part of the word document above.

That part of my honours project turned out to be quite cool actually! I managed to justify a late summer break to the Isle of Mull as a result!

If you've never been to Scotland, this is one place that you have to, at least, spend a day in if you ever go. The island is fairly small compared with the Shetland Isles, but what it lacks in size it makes up for in sheer awe-inspiring beauty. Starting off from Tobermory, you can travel a short ten minute drive and you're literally in the middle of nowhere! Wild spectral moors replete with mysterious ground fog and wandering sheep pass you by as you make your journey to one of the most beautiful places in Scotland: Calgary Bay.

My dad was the one that first took me to this scenic beach. Needless to say, this was one of the times where he showed me why it was important to look after our planet. Out of all the things my father has done for me, this is, by far, the one I am most thankful for. Unfortunately for me, my field trip took place during the tail end of September 2015 which meant I wasn't able to soak up any rays or spend much time there considering how much work I had to get done.

On a personal note, the spring and summer of that year was a particularly difficult time for me emotionally. I'd come to terms with some of my own demons and that trip to Mull rebuilt my confidence and resilience.

The funny thing about the field trip was that many of the lochs that I visited, yielded very little in the way of Hydra samples! But that didn't mean that it was fruitless. On my fourth day I managed to obtain a couple from Loch Torr. Which, if you knew me, was an extremely frightening experience as it involved having to cross a dam-wall tight-rope style (I have a fear of heights, in addition to a fear of falling in freezing cold water miles away from any shelter!).

I mentioned earlier that the key to identifying Hydra was their stinging cells. So I took a number of pictures with my iPhone in order keep a record of the backbreaking work I put in.

The egg shaped cells you see are called the holotrichous isorhizae and the smaller shaped circles with the curly loops are called the desmonemes

The picture above shows you one of the slides that I photographed. When I started the project, these images didn't mean anything to me. All I saw was a collection of circles with little tubes. It always amazes me how that skill of discrimination comes to you little by little. I'll give you an example, looking at this picture just now I can see that the holotrichous isorhizae are really wide compared with the other common Hydra species of Europe. That's all I need to be able to ID the animal as Hydra circumcincta. Incidentally this is the species that all my cnidariologist predecessors kept confusing with the others. This was, of course, before they started using stinging cells as identification tools!

I also found some really beautiful examples of natural beauty down the lenses of my microscope that trip. The journey to Lochan's Airde Beinn - known by locals as the Crater Lake - was tiresome and treacherous. Freezing cold streams of water had created primitive sets of stairs which provided a respite from slogging through the muck and sludge of the field. Unfortunately this also increased the very real risk of slipping and falling down the hills you had to climb over to get to the lake. The name of the lake tells its own story. It's surrounded on all sides by hills making the lake look more like
Amon Sûl from Lord of the Rings than a sampling location for Hydra. This was one of my unsuccessful sampling days, but I did discover something that was really pretty nonetheless.

Tabellaria: a genus of diatom that inhabit nearly all natural bodies of freshwater

It always makes me feel really happy when I get moments like this in my work. Discovering something that you've only read about for the first time is really rewarding. That feeling is what I want to share with people. The fascination at finding something so remarkable in a place so seemingly inconsequential beats anything you can experience on a Saturday night down the pub!

Stenotele of Hydra oxycnida found in the Forth and Clyde Canal, Clydebank

The biggest surprise of all was still to come, however. One day my dad and I were walking along the bank of the Forth and Clyde Canal close to my hometown of Clydebank. As I was eager for more Hydra specimens to identify I decided to take a quick look at the floating Elodea fronds that happened to be close to one of the pontoons that were on our side of the bank. Lo and behold, I found the biggest Hydra I had ever seen! Seriously, this thing was a beast if ever I saw one! I even took a timelapse of them because I was so shocked at how motile they were in comparison to the sluggish specimens I had collected at that time. The beak shaped stenotele in the picture above was unlike any I had seen up until that date. I identified it from my overseas supervisors' paper but I still couldn't admit to myself that this was a species that hadn't been found in Scotland - let alone Britain - before!



It turned out that the species this specimen belonged to was Hydra oxycnida, a species that had only been scantily recorded in Germany and Norway. The good news was that I managed to secure my first published piece of research as a result! I was so overjoyed. I've included a link to the online PDF for any of you who would like to give it a read.

Overall, that year allowed me to finally demonstrate to myself that I was cut out for a life in science. I ate, drank and slept Hydra for eleven months, and it was the most rewarding time of my life. It helped me realise the better parts of myself.

One of the problems that I've found writing this particular instalment VotS is the fact that I've let it gather dust for far too long... I started writing this edition in the summer of 2016 and I am, only now, putting the final touches to it at the end of 2017. I'm writing this as I sit in my student accommodation at the University of Essex, where I am currently completing my masters degree before I - hopefully - gain entry into a Ph.D program next year. From then until now, it's been extremely demotivating to get rejection after rejection be that either in the form of job or Ph.D applications, which was the main driving force in starting my MSc.

I do plan to start writing this on a more regular basis though, too much cool stuff happens down here for me to not actively record my journey. Until next time...


Tuesday, 15 December 2015

The Beginnings of a Beautiful Friendship

When people ask me what I do I tell them I'm a scientist. I don't immediately tell them that I'm a student. The reason for this is simple... The stigma. It was okay to say you were a student when you were 18; but at 30, I draw the line. People would probably think you were out of your mind to go back to school past the age of 21. As I let the statement of my job-status settle in, I gauge the person's reaction. If they seem impressed, then I fling little titbits of information: "I'm a marine and freshwater biology student,"; "I'm a final year,"; "I wanna do postgrad research,". Things like that. What I don't do is get into the nitty-gritty of what really gets me excited about my area. The reason for that is rather simple: people hear the word science and their eyes glaze over. It's not even as if the reaction happens over an imperceptibly slow period of time, making it difficult to observe. It literally takes five seconds. The thing about the phenomenon that really pisses me off is that most people are actually qualified to understand what it is you'd like to talk about, it's mostly just a case of wilful ignorance. It's like people are afraid to be caught by their friends talking about something that has more than a passing resemblance to a cogent thought.

Some of my lecturers say that there are no bad science-learners, only bad science-communicators; which is their word de jour for what Sir David Attenborough is. Personally, I hate the term. It has the word science in it! And that word is what catalyses the loss of interest! A new phrase will take over, eventually. I just hope that it's better than the current one.

I've sort of went off-topic here! This was meant to be the introduction to - not only - my first professional blog, but also my first blog ever! I'd give myself a congratulatory pat on the back; but I've not managed to get to the crux of what I wanted to say... Yet! So without further ado, here I go.

For all the geeks, nerds and aficionados of the animal kingdom.

Since the age of... I don't know (I was that young!), my dad always took me out into the wilderness. The wilderness for me - at that age - was the beach, the forest and the hills. Those places always filled me with a totally unarticulated wonder. Hell! I still have difficulty trying to describe my feelings about the animal kingdom today!

Out of all the trips I took with him, the ones that I associate most strongly with, are the times where we would spend hours beach-combing for jellyfish. It was at that point in my life that I knew that; regardless of my life's journey - I'd always be within a stone's throw of an ocean. When I was six or seven, my mum had to go to the Job Centre and she took me with her. They had a really old-fashioned computer there that had basic functionality for checking job lists. I got really excited by the possibility that I could put in David Attenborough's job-title, and that I'd be able to apply for it. It was then that I sat puzzled - and slightly miffed! - that I hadn't asked my dad what Sir David's job was. It was not until my second appearance at the centre that I managed to type Naturalist into the database. Funnily enough, several posts popped up; but I was too young to actually know what I was doing (bear in mind that this was the early '90s and computers had minimal/non-existent user-friendliness).

As the years went by, I spent time in the University of Glasgow doing a nursing degree that I was not interested in. Eventually, I made the decision to leave. More years passed working for RBS, which afforded me the luxury of taking several SCUBA diving trips to Egypt. The first trip I went on was in September 2008 with my boyfriend (I use the term loosely as we had just broken up prior to the holiday beginning). Succinctly, the trip was horrific. He got jealous when I started speaking to all the old-dears that were there. Yet despite all the shit that went down on that holiday, it remains the most pivotal experience of my life. It was on that holiday that I finally fulfilled my lifelong ambition to learn to SCUBA dive. When I first stuck my head under the unbelievably warm ocean waters, I was totally taken aback. All these fish swarming around you. It was like being in an aquarium! (Scottish waters are barren by comparison!). I made it a point to snorkel whilst I waited the few days for my SCUBA course to begin. 

Taeniura lymma, Egypt November, 2011.

There was a feeling I got as I looked off into the distance as I casually bobbed on the surface of that salty sea. If I had my German friend with me she'd probably be able to manufacture a word for that feeling. It was as if I was looking at the Big Bang, it was that captivating! The sun's rays penetrated the surface and shone down in diagonal beams whose association triggered a memory of a scene from the Little Mermaid (my favourite Disney film!). Then I looked back at the rocks that guided me along the coast, which were encrusted with innumerable numbers of animals that made those barren rocks look like heaps of gemstones.

There was a feeling I got as I looked off into the distance, Egypt November 2011. Not actually what I saw as I didn't have an underwater camera on my first set of dives; but you get the idea.

That feeling of witnessing something so beautiful made me glad to be alive. It actually made me think that that perfect moment in time was worth every bad thing that had ever happened to me. I knew as soon as that moment in my life was over, that I'd be forever hooked. I was a coral reef junkie!

Chaetodon semilarvatus, Egypt November 2012: One of the rare instances when I managed to operate my camera properly.

That period of my life coincided with my one-year anniversary at RBS. It wasn't until four years later that I managed to get myself ready financially speaking, for beginning a new period of study. And here I am already at the beginning of the end of that period.

The aim of this blog is intended to provide the general reader with interesting asides regarding the invertebrate (sans spine) animals. It is this group of animals that I will be studying for the rest of my life. In particular, the Cnidaria. This Phylum (fancy science word for group), includes all your gorgeously relaxing jellyfish, all your cute coral polyps and all the sea anemones. It also includes other animals that you'll probably not be aware of, such as the sea-pens and sea-whips. 

Cerianthus, Egypt November 2011. One of the many reasons for studying the Cnidaria: the simple beauty.

If I haven't put you into a coma with all this reminiscing, stay tuned for the next entry in this blog which will highlight some of my final year research thesis, which is on Hydra, a freshwater cnidarian. 

Peter.