Colleen Shortal
Our first night on Lizard Island was as nerdy as you would expect from a group of marine scientists on a new island. We spent the evening trotting the length of the beach in pitch black darkness, shaming anyone who dared turn on a flashlight, and kicking up sand to catch glimpses of the bioluminescent flashes below. This was followed by ogling at the books in the station library. The collection was enviable - every marine informational guide, on every species, in every location. Not to mention photo albums and dissertation manuscripts of all those who had worked at Lizard previously. It was enthralling to flip through records of the science and history that had taken place on the island. There was plenty of inspiration to be gleaned for our own research projects.
In addition to the literary records of researchers, we had several scientists lecture our group about their fields, including biogeochemistry, coral ecology, science communication, global change biology, navigating career trajectories, and innovative “backyard” science. Dr. Morgan Prachett from James Cook University gave a talk that I found particularly interesting. While on Lizard Island, each of us was expected to design and run a research project. As a microbiologist, I was feeling lost as to what I could develop that would be relevant to my field without bacteriological supplies or lab space; until Morgan’s talk. He has spent much of his career studying the crown-of-thorns sea star (CoTs) on the Great Barrier Reef. They are a corallivorous species that externally digest coral tissue, leaving massive areas of bare skeleton. The current method of controlling their population is to cull them on the reef with an injection of ox bile salts, which causes mortality within 48 hours. Ox bile? I use that in selective media! Without going into extraneous detail, bile salts are used to inhibit the growth of Gram-positive bacteria, allowing Gram-negative bacteria to dominate. In my lab, I study pathogenic Gram-negative bacteria and their ability to be virulent toward marine organisms. That led me to question what the ox bile injections might do to the microbial community on the surrounding reef. Potentially recruiting pathogenic bacteria? Who knew! I was excited to have been inspired by actual research happening on Lizard Island and cannot thank Morgan and his students, Maddie and Leighton, enough for their assistance with this project.
Following the initial idea, methodology arose through discussions with Tyler and my project partner, Shannon Dixon. Our protocol culminated in a 24-hour time block of measurements after injection to observe the sea stars’ metabolic profiles as they died and drawing coelomic fluid to monitor changes in internal bacterial metabolism. Neither of us had ever measured bacterial metabolism before, much less sea star metabolism, so creating metabolic chambers with probes was a foreign challenge for us. It was especially rewarding to have the opportunity to participate in science communication while collecting data. Our tanks were set up in the middle of the wet lab hallway, so every inquisitive person that walked by got a spiel similar to what is in this blog. We talked to students, staff, visiting scientists, a NatGeo film crew, and several tour groups from the Lizard Island Resort. I learned so much through this project about experimental design, persistence, and how to bury rotting sea star bodies at the proper grave depth. We ended the 24-hour time period with a mountain of data to analyze, feeling a bit delusional (we locked ourselves in the classroom for several hours at 3 am because of the ominous island noises), full of Tim Tams, and with several bad SyFy shark films under our belts.
On Lizard Island, we became not only more well-rounded scientists but also full-fledged island folk. Common practices on the island included going barefoot, wearing a swimsuit under your clothes for beach breaks, befriend the spider on the toilet paper roll, and always plan your experimental time points around sunset beers. By the end of our time, I could feel my feet becoming more hobbit-like. Though one instance where I was happy to have foot protection (meaning my dive booties) was on our “totally chill mangrove walk”. Tyler took us to a mangrove thicket next to one of the island ridges. There was supposed to be a trail to the top, but it was nowhere to be found. Marcelina and I took it upon ourselves to scout for the trail and report back. This ended up being a two-hour climb through bush, in trees, and up completely vertical rocks. I had never felt more like Captain Cook and his crew when they explored the island. Every step on this climb was a calculated risk that made us consider the following questions: Is the ground below the brush stable? Will this snap my ankle? Would I rather get attacked by ants in the tree or spiders in the crevice? Is this branch TOO spiky to use for support? If I fell off of this rock, would it kill me or just injure me? And most notably, how the heck are we going to get back down? But never did it dawn upon us to ask, “Should we just go back down to the beach?” We ended this climb at the top of the ridge with well earned cuts, bruises, sweat stains, and mysterious wildlife-induced rashes. This was my favorite day of the entire course. The top of the ridge was also the best view, clear water around the perfectly visible outline of the reef flats surrounding the island.
Among the innumerable breathtaking views on the island, two others stand out - Cook’s Look and the entrance bommie. Cook’s Look was a trail that led to the island’s highest point. There was a defined path to the top, unlike the ridge, but that by no means made the climb easy. Little did I know that when the first four of us made it to the top, Brandon and Manu had not only been carrying heavy water bottles in their packs, but also four beers. We each cracked open a Great Northern lager to celebrate, brewed right here in Queensland. And it would feel wrong not to acknowledge the beauty of the reef from in the water as well. The entrance bommie sits in the middle of the lagoon between Lizard and the small surrounding islands. The life there is unlike any reef I have encountered in the Caribbean. The amount of biodiversity was even even more mind-boggling after attempting to learn coral species IDs earlier in the course. I say attempting because it is nearly impossible with cryptic species and new genetic information. Colonies that appear phenotypically identical and growing next to each other cannot even be definitively classified as the same species. Among the coral were clownfish, parrotfish, shrimp, zoanthids, turtles, and giant clams large enough to swallow you whole. Because my independent research project didn’t involve snorkeling like most of my cohort, every opportunity I had to be on the reef and observe nature was so special.
It would be impossible to go into detail about every memory I made on Lizard Island, so here is a list of highlights that I would like to remember - low tide beach walks, climbing giant boulders on the seaside, visiting the famous Marlin Bar, game nights that attracted the attention of other research groups, resulting in very large spoons competitions, arm wrestling contests egged on by Morgan Prachett, Saturday barbeques, outdoor dive locker showers, a refreshing lack of cell service/Wi-Fi, Pirates of the Caribbean movie nights, and bonding with my cohort. I had the privilege to experience all of this with ten other marine science students that are incredibly curious, kind, intelligent, and silly. If I had to offer advice based on what I have learned from this course - be persistent, collaborate, fall in love with your research, and have fun.