By Sophie Drew

Adapted from Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky”

‘Twas brilliant, when the golden sun
Did show its face upon the marsh
All set were we to work as one
The heat arising, greenheads harsh

Behold the power of plants, my friend!
CO2 in, oxygen out!
I’ll tell you before poem’s end
What my research is about

We have a chamber, logger, tubing,
Across the marsh these things we heave
We set it up, we get it grooving
And watch, in real time, marsh grass breathe

Full sun, then shade, then darkness too
That’s three light levels for ya
To see how our dear friend responds,
Spartina alterniflora

And why do this? What can we learn?
Seems an odd summer vacation
It’s to find out if these plants just might
Recover from eutrophication

When nitrate’s added in excess
To a system so fine-tuned
The carbon cycle becomes a mess
If we’re not careful, it’s all doomed

‘Twas brilliant, when the golden sun
Did set across the shining creeks
Carbon fluxes, July, done!
Until again, in four short weeks

New England’s salt marshes were some of the first ecosystems I was immersed in (literally) as I began my jaunt into marine science. For many people, the draw is their tranquility, as looking out onto a cordgrass meadow gently rippling in the breeze can be quite relaxing. Something that fascinated me then, and still does now, is how these peaceful feelings can be evoked by such a harsh environment. Large, strong tides, cold, salty water, and hot, unrelenting sun all represent real hazards for animals residing in these coastal margins. Yet salt marsh critters don’t run from these dangers: in fact, food webs in these areas are designed to meet stressors head on, taking life-threatening risks in order to reap the energetic rewards that pushing these boundaries can provide.

I am here studying Plum Island’s food webs. One of the major cogs in the always-churning ecosystem machine is the mummichog, a small minnow that easily dominates the other marsh critters in terms of sheer numbers of individuals residing in the creeks. You can catch these baitfish by the hundreds in all sorts of traps and nets, and though they can eat a plant-based diet, in order for them to truly grow big and strong, they need some protein! Big fish can eat the shrimp and invertebrates found in the creeks, but how can a mummichog get to that size in the first place? The answer is by risking life and fin and riding the tide up to the dangerous high marsh, to snack on unsuspecting insects and spiders. Seems crazy, but the risk of getting stranded up there, or eaten by a bird or other predator, is definitely worth it for the potential energetic boost they can get. In this way, mummichog function as an incredibly important link between these two (high marsh and creek) distinct habitats, gathering energy in the form of food produced in the high marsh (insects and spiders) and making it available to the consumers we all love, like striped bass and flounder in the creek. Not bad for such a little guy!

One of the most interesting effects of increased nutrient load on these coastal systems is the sloughing and disintegration of the low marsh area of the creeks, which normally act as a ramp for these mighty minnows to make their daring climb. How does the loss of that ramp affect the mummichog’s ability to bridge the two ecosystems, and what does a change in the strength of that link mean for the creek’s other residents? How does the ecosystem respond to this decoupling of the creek and high marsh? These are the questions I’m hoping to answer this summer. As we head out to West Creek with our trusty seine net to collect fish, shrimp, and other marine critters for our analyses, we come across a dead American eel on the path, stranded as the tide receded and desiccated by the strong summer sun. Clearly, the high marsh bounty is worth risking everything for, and I hope to understand how that link, and its loss, drives the function and long-term stability of these “peaceful” ecosystems.

– Justin Lesser

 

The day begins early, tide dependent of course. My team assembles. We are a small group consisting of PhD candidate Michael Roy, Jarrett Byrnes’ undergraduate lab assistant Richard Wong, and I, Byrnes lab undergraduate field tech. We gather our gear; our scientific instruments, our boots and buckets. We set out for a glorious day of experimental set up in the salt marsh. I am so excited to be here as this is my first time working in the field. This is the reason I went to college for Biology, to have a career in which I am spending copious amounts of time in nature.

So far I have gotten to be very close to nature, sometimes waist deep in it when catching the fiddler crabs for our particular experiment. I feel beyond honored to have been selected to be a field tech this summer. Michael reminds me that I earned my place helping him at the field station with my hard work and enthusiasm in my marine ecology this past school year. Michaels’ experiment is on comparing the affects the marsh fiddler crab at various densities have on the marsh sediment in there native region South of Cape Cod verses the Gulf of Maine were they have recently expanded their range to include because of the changing climate. It just so happens to be a question I find myself very interested in as well.

We are headed to the marsh today to catch the crabs that will be occupying the cages we built for them in the marsh. We have taken our initial measurements of the sediment strength, buried a log of peat in mesh to examine root growth, and buried small mesh bags of grass to assess how decomposition may increase as the crabs burrow into the sediment.

I can’t help but think that our cages look beautiful when they are up and running, with their steel flashing affixed around the tops which ensures no crabs crawl out or in. I am really enjoying my job as I am standing in the cool creek on a beautiful sunny summer day, poking crabs out of their holes in the mud. We will leave them over the rest of the summer and measure how they have changed the marsh in their cage after some time has passed. I truly can’t wait to evaluate the results and find out!

Written by Linnea Sturdy 

A study recently published in Ecological Applications from the TIDE Project reveals that plants don’t respond to eutrophication the way you might expect. Below is a press release originally posted by the Virginia Institute of Marine Scientists.

***

Add fertilizer to your garden and your plants will probably grow bigger and taller. Add fertilizer to a salt marsh and the plants may not get any bigger. That’s according to a new study led by Dr. David Samuel Johnson of William & Mary’s Virginia Institute of Marine Science.

Salt marshes are intertidal grasslands that grow at the interface between land and sea. These ecosystems can receive excess concentrations of nutrients such as nitrogen from wastewater and runoff of agricultural fertilizer. This “eutrophication” affects coastal waters and estuaries worldwide and can lead to fish kills, harmful algal blooms, and areas of low oxygen. Johnson and his team wanted to know how eutrophication impacted salt marshes.

To do so, the team conducted an unprecedented experiment and flooded football-fields worth of salt marsh in northeastern Massachusetts with fertilizer-rich water for almost a decade. Scott Warren, a professor at Connecticut College and study co-author who has studied salt marshes for four decades, says “When we were able to mimic a eutrophied estuary at an ecosystem scale—quite a challenge I must add—we found that salt marshes did not respond as you might have predicted from fertilization experiments done over the past half a century or so.”

Despite the abundant supply of nitrogen, a key plant nutrient, plants in the fertilized marshes didn’t grow much bigger than those in unfertilized marshes. “We were surprised at the mild responses, even after almost a decade of fertilization,” says Johnson. Earlier salt marsh studies reported plants growing larger in response to adding fertilizer. Previous studies also found that fertilizer changed species composition, causing some species to outcompete others. “The species composition didn’t budge during the entire experiment,” Johnson says.

One reason the team’s results differed from previous studies may be their choice of fertilizer. “We used nitrate fertilizer, which is the most common form of nitrogen in eutrophied estuaries,” says Johnson. “Much of the previous work used ammonium fertilizer. Those studies had different questions than ours; they weren’t specifically looking to understand eutrophication.” Wetland plants prefer ammonium to nitrate because it takes less energy to process, so bigger plants with application of ammonium would not be unexpected.

Another reason the plants may not have responded strongly was the way the fertilizer was delivered—with flooding tidal water, which meant that less fertilizer reached the plants compared to previous studies that had added fertilizer directly to the marsh surface.

The mild response of plants doesn’t mean that salt marshes are safe from eutrophication, however. Johnson notes that when it comes to understanding eutrophication’s impact on salt marshes, the answer may lie beneath the surface. In an earlier paper from the same field study, published in Nature, the research team found that fertilizer treatments caused the marsh edges to collapse and erode away. Again, this is opposite of what they had predicted. “We hypothesized that the grass would grow taller, which would trap more sediment and help the marsh grow,” says Johnson. Instead, they found that plants in fertilized marshes had fewer roots and rhizomes than those in non-fertilized ones, which may have contributed to the collapse.

The team’s research results have important implications for the management and care of salt marshes. These critically important coastal resources are thought to be “nutrient sponges” that soak up excess nitrogen to help prevent dead zones and fish kills. One way they can do so is by putting the nitrogen into bigger plants. Since the plants in the current study didn’t grow bigger, it limited the marsh’s ability to absorb excess nitrogen.

Johnson adds, “Our work underscores that we can’t simply rely on salt marshes to clean up nutrient pollution. We need to do a better job at keeping nutrients out of the water in the first place.”

***

Friday afternoon, and five marsh-logged REUs eagerly stuffed clothes into bags, piled into cars and headed south. After a long week, we were more than ready for time off. Three hours later, after driving like salmon through Boston traffic, we arrived at the Cape and hit the town for some shopping and seafood. Our rag-tag group was prepping for what promised to be a wild weekend. But by wild, I mean there were a lot of people. And by people I mean scientists. And by scientists, I mean the speakers and attendees for the Celebrating Discovery conference at the Marine Biological Laboratory of Woods Hole.

Woods Hole, MA has an international reputation as the hub for marine science research. Along a half-kilometer long road, the Marine Biological Laboratory (MBL), Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute (WHOI), and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) all have prestigious research facilities. A mere five-minute walk and I could have caught flies – my jaw dropped, and never have I felt like such a kid in a candy shop. Within the greater Woods Hole area, the United States Geological Survey, the National Academy of Sciences, and Semester at Sea also have facilities.

The coastline is peppered with hulking research vessels, docked for the summertime. Quaint coffee shops and restaurants attract tourists and scientists alike, where it is not uncommon to overhear sincere discussions about the future of bioinformatics. I was thrilled to be in an area associated with such prestige and history (MBL has produced over 50 Nobel laureates), and even more awe-struck that I somehow fit into the giant cog of this machine.

The Celebrating Discovery conference took the form of “plenary sessions”, meaning a series of speakers would give talks within the same general topic. Speakers from UC Berkeley, WHOI, Harvard, Duke University, Brown, Dartmouth, the Amazon Environmental Research Institute, Argonne Laboratories, the Smithsonian, Howard Hughes Medical Institute and more, presented on everything from eco-evolutionary biology to computational modeling and medical breakthroughs in tissue regeneration. MBL is officially affiliated with Brown University and the University of Chicago, and collaborates with other universities and laboratories across the world. By simply walking into the auditorium for a lecture, you felt smarter. Some of the most brilliant minds in the marine sciences were in the room. While the weekend may not have been “wild” by Cape Cod’s standards, it was an intellectually stimulating and highly social event.

Scientists are often portrayed as socially awkward, brooding, and plain weird; in the digital age of professional-networking platforms (e.g LinkedIn and ResearchGate) and email-related frenzy, it would be more than easy for scientists to entirely block out physical connection with the outside world. Publications are the primary way that the scientific community connects with one another. Yet, it is during conferences that we make the most interdisciplinary connections. Conferences provide dedicated venues and forums for scientists of all specialties to meet and learn from one another. The standing joke is that MBL is a summer camp for scientists, as we much prefer sitting on beaches in deep conversation than locked away in a cold dark basement lab. (Beach time was existent but unfortunately minimal). By the end of the weekend, each of us had further honed our interests and met someone who was driving scientific inquiry in their field. It opened our eyes to the deeply collaborative nature of the MBL, and showed that despite the name, MBL does not restrict its limitless ideas to the seas.

MBL’s remarkable collaboration with numerous institutions is further highlighted in its equal success in communicating its research. While conferences are wonderful places for scientists to share new ideas, it is meaningless unless conveyed to policy-makers, medical experts, and the general public. As one example, MBL sponsors Friday evening lectures throughout the summer that draw crowds to fill two auditoriums, with internationally known speakers. The lecture is followed by a beautiful reception, where people of all backgrounds can mingle. Local outreach is equally as important; non-scientific residents can appreciate the importance of those hulking research vessels that block their view of the ocean. Our own blog gives the TIDE project a digital presence to communicate to public the imperative nature of our own work, and even attract future researchers. (It also provides excellent writing practice for the interns – that’s me!)

When communication of new ideas and questions is effective, it can change the people’s perception of environmental problems. Communication comes in a plethora of forms, from books that start a green revolution, to 140 character tweets. We cannot keep our ideas to ourselves; science is worth nothing if no one else knows. MBL’s weekend of discovery was about asking relevant scientific questions to reach novel intellectual destinations and foster a diverse intellectual community. The depth and breadth of researchers that are attracted to Woods Hole is already staggering, but the MBL is pushing the frontier of discovery.

If ideas are truly the currency of the 21^st century, then these giddy summer-campers struck gold.

Nathalie Moore is a rising junior at the College of William and Mary. She is a double major in Biology and Environmental Science, and her summer research for the MBL focuses on salt marsh creek bank degradation and foraging success of a top predator, F. heteroclitus. She will be presenting her work on Austral invasion and fire ecology at the 100^th Meeting of the Ecological Society of America in Baltimore, MD on August 13^th.

Time is flying by and we are already halfway through the field season! I am Kassandra Baron and I am an undergraduate student from Washington & Jefferson College studying Biology. Here at the Marshview field station I work as a research undergraduate student. This summer I am working on the TIDE project as well as carrying out several experiments with an invertebrate commonly found on the high marsh, Melampus.

Melampus bidentatus, commonly known as the Coffee Bean snail, is a terrestrial air-breathing snail in the family Ellobiidae. This species is relatively small, averaging 9 to 12 mm when fully grown. As a detritivore located on the high marsh, Melampus commonly feeds on Spartina patens and the algae that grows on the stems of these plants. The majority of my project is researching the effects of Melampus density on Spartina patens litter processing. While exploring density effect, I am also pursuing the question on whether or not there is a fertilizer effect. In both of my experiments we are using dead Spartina patens from Sweeney and West creeks and Melampus. Sweeney creek serves as our enriched creek and West creek is used as our reference. By using these two different creeks, we can compare the effect of Melampus on mass loss.

To better understand whether or not Melampus increases the decomposition rate of Spartina litter that has been nutrient-enriched, two experiments were set up. One experiment takes into consideration natural environmental factors and Melampus in its natural habitat. In this experiment, I used decomposition bags made of window screen and placed a known amount of dead Spartina patens and different densities of snails in each bag. These bags were then deployed out in the field at both creeks each containing litter from that creek. For the second experiment, I set up petri dishes. Half of these dishes contained litter from Sweeney creek and the other half West. Each dish had a known mass of detritus and a random density, or number, of Melampus individuals.

At the end of the field season, roughly 8 weeks from now, I will be measuring the mass loss, nitrogen content, phenolic content, particle size, and snail growth for both experiments. All together I hope to gain a better understanding of the importance of this snail on decomposition and determine if nitrogen enrichment and density play a role in the process of decomposition.

My name is Drew Collins, and I’m a rising junior at the University of New England studying Marine Biology. I’m one of the REU (Research Experience for Undergraduates) Interns working out of the Marshview Farm field station on the TIDE project.

As part of the REU program, interns must plan, orchestrate, and present the findings of a scientific study of their choosing (all within ten weeks!). We are not alone in this process, however, as we have an incredible network of scientists working out of Marshview. The TIDE PIs (Principal Investigators, lead researchers) have been invaluable, giving us an endless stream of knowledge and advice they have gained through their many research projects and scientific endeavors. I know this advice will continue to help and guide me long after this summer is over. The RAs (research assistants) provide both advice and lend a hand with the lab work and fieldwork these projects require. In addition, all the REUs help each other, surveying creeks, gathering and counting snails, measuring grass clippings, and labeling everything.

My project is a joint project with Nathalie Moore. Together we are studying how the changing landscape of the marsh creeks is affecting mummichogs’ (a species of small fish that lives in the marsh) access to their invertebrate prey in the upper marsh. In order to get a large sample size of creeks, Nathalie and I have had to travel all over the Rowley and Ipswich salt marshes, exploring creeks not often visited. Once we had chosen and surveyed our creeks, we now must take measurements on the fish and the invertebrates at each creek, so we can see what kind of relationship there is between the landscape of the creek, the types and quantity of invertebrates, and the size, mass and behavior of the mummichogs living there.

This internship has been a really exciting opportunity for me specifically, because the areas we study are practically in my backyard. I live just 10 minutes from Marshview, and I grew up here on the Great Marsh. To be able to do real science on these salt marshes, which have always held a special place in my heart, has been a truly magical experience.

Hello TIDE enthusiasts! We, Caitlin and Frankie, are excited to be writing the first blog post of the field season. We are rising seniors at Bryn Mawr College. While Caitlin is a seasoned marsh expeditionist returning for her third summer, Frankie is excited to start her first summer here at TIDE. The marsh has been treating us well these first few weeks, and has welcomed us with a mixture of cold/rainy and hot/sunny days.

This summer, we will both continue to work with the plants that inhabit the Plum Island Marsh here at TIDE. Our focus is to compare the phenology of Tall Form Spartina alterniflora (TSA) to genetic analysis conducted last year. We will continue to take clip plots of the five main marsh plants, TSA, Short Form Spartina alterniflora (SSA), Distichlis spicata (DS), and Spartina patens (SP) in order to determine changes in plant morphology and density between the fertilized and unfertilized creeks. We will also measure gas fluxes, including methane, CO₂ and water vapor, to investigate differences in plant physiology across the long term fertilized Sweeney Creek and the unfertilized West Creek.

During our short time here, we have also had the opportunity to assist with other projects, as well as attend and present a poster at the New England Botanical Society’s 120th anniversary conference. We had a great time there and were excited to be able to visit another one of the Seven Sister’s, Smith College, who hosted the conference. We look forward to collaborating with the other REUs and further develop our understanding of essential marsh systems. Flume Netting is the next big project coming up this week, and we have begun to move the nets to more appropriate locations on the marsh.

Marshes are quiet, unassuming ecosystems that do a lot for us. They provide protection from storms, they produce animals that we like to eat or watch, and they give us wonderful places to look out upon while watching the sunrise (or set on the West Coast). WCAI, the Cape and Islands NPR station, highlighted salt marshes last week in their Living Lab segment. Linda Deegan, the lead Principal Investigator was a part of the discussion. If you want to learn about salt marshes, this is a good place to start so give a listen.

capeandislands.org/post/salt-marshes-unsung-heroes-our-coasts

It’s official: The TIDE Project has been re-funded by the National Science Foundation until 2016.

The TIDE Project will continue its fertilization experiments to look at the effect of chronic nutrient enrichment of salt marshes. We will focus on our most compelling finding to date: nutrients can lead to marsh loss. This result is compelling because while scientists have identified a number of causes of marsh loss, nutrients had never been identified until now. In that vein, we will focus on three major questions going forward:

1) What are the biological mechanisms leading to marsh loss?
We hypothesize that changes in microbial activity (leading to increased decomposition) and reductions in root biomass have led to less cohesive creek banks, thus making them susceptible to physical forces and slumping. We will test our biological hypotheses to understand how nutrients can lead to marsh loss.

2) How does marsh loss affect ecosystem services?
All ecosystems provide benefits to humans and those benefits are called ‘ecosystem services’ by scientists. Two services provided by marshes include fisheries support and pollution control (i.e., nutrient removal). We will test the hypothesis that marsh loss reduces marsh ecosystem services by reducing the ability of the marsh to produce forage fish (the mummichog Fundulus heteroclitus) and to remove nutrients.

3) What is the eventual shape of the marsh with chronic nutrient enrichment?
What we have seen in the short-term is marsh loss that has led to sharp scarps (walls) which can affect a number of marsh functions (and in turn marsh services). It is unknown, however, if the marsh edge will continue to erode or stabilize in a different configuration (say, a low sloping edge). We will monitor changes in the geomorphology of the tidal creeks to predict the trajectory of these changes.

Collectively, the TIDE Project will answer interesting scientific questions while simultaneously addressing the critically important issue of the loss of marshes and the benefits they provide to humans (storm protection, pollution control, fisheries production, beauty).

The TIDE Project is led by Dr. Linda Deegan of the Marine Biological Laboratory (MBL). The team includes Dr. Sergio Fagherazzi (Boston University), Dr. Jen Bowen (UMASS-Boston), Dr. Tom Mozdzer (Bryn Mawr), Dr. Bruce Peterson (MBL), Dr. Anne Giblin (MBL), Dr. Jimmy Nelson (MBL) and Dr. David Johnson (MBL).

Like the salt marsh itself, the TIDE Project has been productive hosting almost 150 scientists, 70% of which have been young scientists, publishing over 40 scientific articles, and contributing to numerous outreach activities. We look forward to another set of productive years.

Thank you to the readers for all of your support.

David Samuel Johnson is a scientist at the Marine Biological Laboratory and loves spineless animals.