Sea Gooseberries

Walking along a sandy beach along the west coast of Canada, one might stumble upon these small, 1-2cm wide gelatenaous blobs.

They get left behind by the receding waves on flat beaches near Tofino. 

These are a type of comb jelly, affectionally called sea gooseberries. I collected a few of the fresher looking ones to see if they were still viable, and indeed, a handful of them were.

 

They swim by undulating small hairs, called cilia. These hairs are what make them different from jellyfish, which contract a bell to swim. 

Despite there being research that said they weren't, I found these to be bioluminescent. At night, possibly due to being under stress of being on a beach and not underwater, I found them shining for several seconds.  

The largest fish we never see

When we think of the largest fish in the fraser river, we think of great chinook salmon, which may reach lengths of 3 feet, and weigh 20 pounds.  There are yet fish even larger than this - the white sturgeon.

Occasionally, they die (of either natural or manmade causes) and float downstream and may get tangled up in the lower-flow of the intertidal fraser.

Last year, a four foot specimen washed up not far from where I live. Knowing that sturgeon sometimes have tags in their heads, I notified the Fraser River Sturgeon Conservation Society to see if they'd like to check it out.  Steve, a volunteer with the organization, came out the next day. The high tide left little room for us to access the fish, with thorny bramble on one side, and water on the other, but with some amount of bouldering, we were able to access the fish.  We were not only able to get some measurements (130cm long, 53 cm girth), but his handheld sensor located a PIT tag located in the head, that told us this fish had been caught before, near Maple Ridge in 2010.

Steve said that sturgeon are among the most studied fish in the world.  The Fraser river's proximity to major population centres, its historic fishing importance, it's large enough size for tracking individuals,  and a generally charismatic creature of the Fraser has made it a popular target of study.  For example, in 2020, nearly 4000 tagged sturgeon were captured, providing valuable data for conservation purposes.

For more information of the Fraser River sturgeon, including the tagging program, see here: https://www.frasersturgeon.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/Lower-Fraser-Sturgeon-M-and-A-2020-Report_20211024.pdf

skate

As we are in the midst of playoff hockey, this post will probably get more accidental clicks from those looking for hockey-related terms, than from those interested in an ID for a fish carcass.

Last week, while walking on a rocky beach near UBC, I saw this near the low tide mark.

Carcass of something (I put it on a rock for a better photo)

While most of this organism was gone, what remained was its backbone, and a tail. I recognized its thorny tail as belonging to a skate.

Skates are one of many creatures in our waters whose existence is unknown by the general public. They seldom get caught by fisherman on piers, they don't appear at the surface, and they live too deeply to get caught in tide pools.

Skates are in the same class of animals as sharks. They share features like a cartilaginous skeleton, and a rough skin of denticles. However, their flattened body makes them well-suited for staying camouflaged on the bottom, eating crustaceans and other benthic (ocean-bottom dwelling) creatures.

Complete, one might look like this:

Big skate (image from wikipedia)

Oh wait, you're thinking, that looks like a sting ray!  Indeed, they are similar to rays in many ways, but with some differentiations:

- skates have teeth; rays have plates more suited for crushing

- skates have stockier tails with thorny protrusions, and rays have more whip-like tails that may or may not have a stinger

- skates produce egg cases, while rays give birth to live young

There are a few common species of skates in our waters, but I can't find any closeups of tails that would help me narrow down the species of the one I saw.

Eat or (one day) be eaten

Before I developed a passion for the creatures of the ocean, before I discovered what exciting predators spiders could be, before I collected charismatic crayfish from a local lake, grasshoppers occupied my desire of discovery.  They were the first creature I had ever studied up close.  As a six year old in the Okanagan, I spent hours each day, stalking them, capturing them, and keeping them in a 4-litre ice cream bucket padded with fresh grass where I'd watch them continue their life cycle of mating, laying eggs, and ultimately dying.

Capturing them required a strategy to combine stealth to get within striking distance, and a quickness of hands. This difficulty setting contributed to a ranking system I developed to classify grasshoppers and locusts.

What I called grasshoppers were the lowest tier.  They were the smallest of the bunch, and also the most common.  Their clear wings could typically only carry them in a straight line that curved right or left, and not more than 5 metres.  It was easy enough to flush one out, run to where it landed and pounce.  While they technically were flying, it was the "hop" that determined their direction, so I called them grasshoppers.

Locusts were what I called the species that could truly fly (I didn't find out until later that locusts were defined more by their swarming behaviour, but let's just let that 6-year old's definition stick for the next few paragraphs).  Their strong flight easily beckoned my 6-year-old self into running after them.  The most common locust species is a large, grey species that can fly long distances.  It's large size is also what makes it easiest to catch, as their momentum tends to (but not always) carry them in a predictable direction.  Their open wings reveal a black wing with a yellow band.

Carolina locust

While the carolina locust was abundant, it's flights were relatively quiet. In the dry Okanagan heat, it was instead another type of locust that would break the silence in the hot summers. These smaller locusts (there were several different species) would hover in a courtship flight, all the while producing a crackling sound technically called a crepitation.  The crackling sounded similar to rapidly ticking sound of those large radial sprinklers.  Their wings would typically have colour on the proximal (closer to body) regions, and be clear on the outer edges.  The wing colour could be yellow (rank 3), red (rank 2) or even blue (I'd cheer).

Unsure of species, maybe one in the Trimerotropis genus

These smaller species were also more agile.  Maybe as an evolutionary advantage to respond to their boisterous cackles while in flight, they would leap away well before I could get in striking distance.  My only strategy was to chase them in flight, and hope that they landed on a lawn where they'd be without a firm footing from which to make their next leap.

There were other species of grasshoppers that were exceptionally rare to catch. I came across just a handful of odd-looking slant-faced grasshoppers which were well camouflaged amid the tumbleweed. Even getting one to jump, it would be easy to dismiss it as a part of a plant that broke off.

So back to the name, "locust", which I'll now describe more accurately.  One of more destructive behaviours of some species of grasshoppers is swarming across an area, and leaving destroyed crops in its wake. This swarming behaviour is only in about 17 species of grasshopper, which are properly called locusts. In densities of 12-24 grasshoppers per square metre in an acre, they can eat as much as a cow.  Whether it be the pharaoh who wouldn't let the Israelites leave, or today's wheat farmers, these swarming grasshoppers can strike fear in the damage they can cause; they are most formidable for what they eat.

Their abundance is also what might turn them into an important food source for humans.  People in many parts of the world already eat grasshoppers as a readily available source of protein, and as we inevitably run out of grazing land, the human population will be increasingly dependent on insect sources of protein.  I myself have eaten a grasshopper, back when I went through a survivalist phase.  "Nutty" is how I'd describe the taste.

Today, when I see grasshoppers, I still try to challenge myself to catch them.  I'm bigger, and more cunning I tell myself.  Yet it hasn't gotten any easier.

backyard birds

The seed's been out in our new feeder since Christmas, when our daughter found seed in her stocking for the feeder, but the birds only noticed it today. It was non-stop activity for the entire afternoon.

 

dark-eyed junco

has the chest feathers of a female house sparrow, but the head striping doesn't match

male and female dark eyed junco

one of the prettier visitors, a house finch

the small chickadees were the most timid

 I think it was our childhood subscription to Chickadee magazine that conditioned me to believe chickadees live in naturally snowy climates, so I was satisfied to have snapped a photo while the snow is still around.  

Largest snail in Canada

Well, the largest one you might find without diving. It's a Lewis' moon snail, and it lives in the lower intertidal area of mud flats. I found this shell in Parksville last week, and although it is half the diameter of the largest moon snails, its body would've enveloped my whole hand. 

Moon snails are predators, typically feeding on clams by drilling a hole in their shells and consuming the clams from their insides. 

More commonly found than the shells (at least in my case) are moon snail collars, a coil of mucous and sand about a foot in diameter that contains their eggs. 

Another low tide day at Boundary Bay

It wasn't the lowest tidal day of the month, but snorkeling around Boundary Bay was downright pleasant amid the searing temperatures today.

One of the fortunate sand dollars that happened to find a stream of running water as opposed to the others drying out in the slightly higher sand embankments

Many cockles were also high and dry...this one lucked out in a pool

Metal structures next to the cairn colonized by many species of anemone

Plumose anemone, the only species I could identify

I don't think I've seen this species of jellyfish before

kelp crab

dungeness crab

The shallow ponds of water were hot.  In addition to the clams and crabs that succumbed to the heat, there were also fish casualties as well.

The above fish clearly were freshly dead.  One might think it's the hot temperatures alone that kill the fish, but it's more likely suffocation that did these fish in.  Hot water has a less capacity to hold oxygen, and I can safely say that this water was at least 40 degrees.

Capturing predator/prey relationship

To capture wildlife in photos or videos, getting to the wildlife is usually the first obstacle. With a bit of research in understanding where the animal might be, it's a matter of just going to the same place. Sometimes, you get lucky on the first try, and other times you need multiple attempts just to see the animal.

Capturing their behaviour is the next challenge.  Hunting behaviour requires both the predator and prey not being distracted by a human, so normally requires some stealth on the part of the observer (us). 

Wildlife films have made us accustomed to witnessing a successful hunt, but in reality, many hunts end up empty handed.  Last week, I saw seals catch wild fish for the first time, and today, I witnessed another predator prey interaction.

It started off as another quiet day of birding at Boundary Bay.  After about an hour, I started settling for photos of sparrows, lest I leave empty handed.  As we drove away, I noticed parked cars along 72nd St, with several photographers aiming their cameras at what I initially thought were eagles atop telephone poles.  In fact, it was a red-tailed hawk, whose gaze seemed fixed on the tall grass below.

It pounced down into the grass, and I had no idea whether it succeeded until it started flying off, vole in beak.

It wasn't until I looked at the images afterwards that I could confirm that the hawk's hunt was successful - all this happened in the span of a few seconds.  An unexpected reward at the end of what could've been an uneventful outing had we left just a few minutes earlier.

River otters at Terra Nova pond

A couple of river otters in the Terra Nova pond

 

The life that salmon sustains

For the last month or so, we've been visiting salmon streams to witness salmon spawning, but have been largely unsuccessful seeing them in smaller streams where I could plunk down a camera. Today, we visited a sunny, but cold and windy Squamish to try our luck there.  The activity by the river confirmed the presence of salmon.

First stop was at Brackendale Eagles Provincial Park. November to December are the best times to see hundreds of bald eagles, feasting on salmon. We were a little early in the season, and we saw few eagles, though the gusty winds might have had something to do with that.  We did see some unexpected visitors - harbour seals.  Here they are, about 5 km away from the ocean.

There were at least three in the water. It was certainly unusual to see them swimming amidst such strong currents.

No need for the seals to steal fish - there were plenty to go around

Caught one!

Herons

Common Merganser (m)

Common Merganser (f)

I'm curious what the mergansers were after...maybe salmon roe trickling past?  Or maybe they're permanent residents, going after small fish that reside in the shallows.

Next, we visited to the Mamquam Spawning channels.  We walked past a golf course to find clear water providing great visibility of the spawning salmon. Most were chum, but I saw a couple of pinks as well.

Link to video, since the video isn't showing up on mobile devices

Went crabbing...technically a success

This past weekend, we took advantage of the summer low tides to take our kids out exploring the muddy beaches.

I had mild ambitions of snorkeling for crab, but with young kids in tow, the best kinds of plans are those that are flexible.

With a spade in hand, we were on the lookout for large holes in the sand. The larger, the higher our expectations, and this hole was as wide as a thumb. We dug down to elbows, yielded this creature, a horse clam.

Inside the clam, we found not one, but two pea crabs.

We've seen pea crabs pretty frequently in larger bivalves, and even in store-bought kiwi mussels. They stow away in the clams as protection.  They offer the clams nothing in return, and may even irritate them in a way that retards the clams' growth, so they are regarded as parasites.  Females will live in the same host for life, while the males (which make up about 17% of the population) will migrate between clams, seeking to mate.

Apparently, pea crabs are fully edible, but it would take even my adventurous tastebuds a bit of coaxing to down one of these.

Here, you may observe the sexual dimorphism between the male (left) and probably gravid female (right).

New Year's Day owling

A dry, sunny day has interrupted what has been a mostly wet week.  It so happens it was the first day of the decade as well, which meant lots of people enjoying a walk on the Dyke Trail on Boundary Bay.  The short-eared owls were also putting on a show...at least a half-dozen individuals prowled the marshes.

Checking out the juvenile bald eagle

No, your monitor's not fuzzy. For some reason, every photo came out fuzzy, at every aperture level, and it's not a focus issue. Yes, this is a cheap lens, but it's the same cheap lens I've always used, and today was worse than usual. I'll have to run some tests to see what part of the hardware is at fault.