Daily Journal

June 29, 2010

By David M. Lawrence

Last night, after I finally filed my part of the day's postings, the SSV Cramer ran into a squall. I was in the aft cabin – which serves as both living and office space for the captain, Chris McGuire, and chief scientist, Giora Proskurowski – when it hit. The aft cabin has a hatch that opens onto the quarterdeck forward of the binnacle (the structure that houses the ship's compass). It provides ventilation as well as a conduit for the captain to hear what is happening on deck – a useful function in case of emergency. Last night, the hatch was closed, but the rain falling on it made a familiar sound. I wanted to see the squall, but had other work to do below and didn't make it out until after the squall had passed.

Nevertheless, I made it out on deck. I didn't intend to stay long, but B Watch, on evening watch, had a carousel deployment and neuston tow to do at 2000 hours. That in itself wasn't terribly unusual. But when chief scientist Giora Proskurowski turned on lights to illuminate the deck amidships, I realized I had a golden photographic opportunity. For weeks I had tried to get some night photos of the ship at work, but with little luck. When last night's gift was offered, I eagerly accepted. Not everything worked out, but I'm pretty happy with what did.

After taking care of some other work, I went to bed a very tired person late in his fifth decade of life. Unconsciousness was realized about 2330 hours, consciousness crept back somewhat about 0200 hours, but it did not fully take hold until I saw the smiling face of Megan Cronin telling me it was time to get up for dawn watch.

The wake-up tradition is an important one. About thirty minutes before watch turnover, someone on the current watch raises from among the dead those who are to replace them. A proper wake-up is an art form in itself. Be gentle, try not to arouse non-target slumberers, try not to scare your victim, and give those whom you've snatched from the bosom of blissful unawareness useful information, like "You should bring your foulies, there may be squalls ahead."

Megan is one of my favorite waker-uppers. She is so cheerful – she completely disarms my angered bear persona. Today, she told me it was a beautiful morning but a little chilly. And it was a beautiful morning. And a little chilly.

Roman Shor is another one of my favorite waker-uppers, but my opinion is not universal. Being built about as big as a bear, a glimpse of him can scare the bejesus out of some who open their eyes just to see his silhouette between them and escape. The truth is, however, that Roman is just about one of the nicest guys here. I usually have to stifle a chuckle when I squint to see his jovial face peeking through my curtain.

A Watch had dawn watch today. Watch began pretty typically – drive the boat, adjust the sails for a deployment, deploy neuston net, adjust the sails for speed, wait for the next watch to relieve us. Then something cool happened. Third mate Jeremy Dann found a flying fish in the port scuppers. We don't know when the fish came aboard, but by then it was quite dead. We claimed it as a specimen and dissected it to look for plastic fragments in its stomach. What we found, for the most part, were pteropod tests (shells). After the necropsy, Jeremy claimed the remains to use as bait on our fishing line.

This morning, both C and A watches were exhausted. (C Watch had midwatch just before we came on deck.) We had a lot of no-shows for breakfast – it's not unusual for people on midwatch and dawn watch to choose sleep over food. Some even skip lunch. No worries, though, if you skip a scheduled meal. There is usually breakfast leftovers, cereal, or some kind of snack for the sleepyheads to fuel themselves with later.

Yesterday I referred to the copepods as kind of the longhorns of the zooplankton world. I said that because many of them have long antennae that often drape along their bodies as they swim. Sometimes, though, the antennae stick out to the sides like a longhorn's would. Like a longhorn, they are grazers – the most voracious diners on phytoplankton. (Some species prey on other zooplankton, including other copepods, and some are parasitic, however.) Like longhorns, there is considerable demand for their "beef" by predatory zooplankton. While there aren't nearly so many species of copepods as there are of the beetles that J.B.S. Haldane spoke of, in terms of numbers, copepods are the most populous group of organisms on the planet.

We have seen quite a variety of them in our samples. Many are quite small, others are large – large enough to be handled with fingers rather than forceps. Some are a rather bland beige color, others are a mix of ice blues and vivid reds (mostly blue, though). Some are spectacularly iridescent, and others produce bioluminescence.

I'm generally not a fan of "What's your favorite...?" questions – unless we're talking about ice cream – but if someone put a gun to my head and told me I'd better name my most favorite group of invertebrates or else, copepods just might be at the top of that list.