Yesterday, I went out with the scientists who are researching the various species of seal that make their homes on the ice here in the north Bering Sea. They had extended the invitation to all of the crew, and several of us have gone so far, some for only a short time, and some for longer, like myself... although, my friend and shipmate Colleen, actually gets paid to go out and do cool things like that since she is a Survey Technician... oh, wait... that is SENIOR Survey Technician. She recently got a promotion. Oh, by the way, her face has healed nicely with no real scar to speak of.
Anyway, so... yesterday was really foggy out, and we were initially not sure if we were going to be able to go out, because even though it is relatively easy to find our way back to the ship in dense fog, it is considerably more difficult to coordinate three zodiac boats, especially when they are trying to be quiet to sneak up on the seals.
The zodiac boats are small, about 15 feet long, rigid hull inflatable craft that are launch from the aft deck with our ‘A-frame'. That is the large crane that we use to lift NOAA buoys out of the water. So, we got dressed in our mustang suits, and the white hooded jackets we wore to help conceal us as we moved along the ice floes, in search of our targets.
Now, let me state for the record: No Seals Were Harmed. Every precaution is taken to make sure that the seals are captured, tagged, and released as quickly and as painlessly as possible, but you must realize that these are wild animals and are not really happy about being cornered on their private ice floe by a half dozen bipeds that roar up in noisy things that look a little like Orcas, from a certain perspective.
The boast are launched into the water, and are boarded, and we head out. We make sure that due to the fog, we pick a relative direction from the Dyson and stay on it. It was decided that we would head west, and we would coordinate on an hourly basis with the ship.
Now, I may have told some of you about how eerily calm it has been up here. We have been blessed with a high pressure system and no winds for the past month. So, as long as the Dyson is away from any large ice floes, we have been pretty much just drifting in place, while the scientists are out doing their thing.
Which means that we can't really get a GPS fix on the ship, per se... but rather the point where the ship was when we launched from her. So we plot our course relative from launch point. Clear as mud? Ok, good.
It was initially decided that the three zodiacs were going to be spaced single file and would move in sort of a zig-zag pattern, so we could keep an eye on each other in the fog. Each zodiac had two people on it, except for the one I was on. I was just a silent observer, and did what I was told to do. I would help get the gear out onto the ice, once I saw what it was they were doing, and when they were finished with a particular item, I would stow it for them, or gather their hats that would invariably be thrown aside. Other than that, I was just along for the ride.
They set it up like this. There would be one person in the bow of the boat, using binoculars to spot the seals. This person would also be the one wielding the net when we went up on the ice and captured them. The other scientist would be driving, and I was sort of hunkered down, trying to keep the hood on my white camouflage jacket from covering my eyes.
Once one of the spotters had found a seal, they would radio to the others, "Target."; and all boats would come to a stop. Then, all communication would cut to a whisper, which was more than loud enough where we were. Sound carried very well because it was so flat, and so quiet. You could actually hear the Dyson's engines from over two miles away. Sometimes, we would be just sitting there, whispering, and one of the spotters would say, "Oops, she heard us."
Ok, so at that point, they would be discussing the best way to approach the seal, depending on what the ice floe looked like, and what sort of other cover was around it. Typically they would go for a three pronged attack, in the event that they were not sure which way the seal might try to escape.
Everyone would then hunker down in the boats as low as they could go, and the spotter/catcher would make sure the net was ready, and would not get tangled in anything when jumping out onto the ice.
This brings up another interesting topic. Ice. All of this ice ranges in thickness from several inches to several yards, but you never know what is going to happen. For instance, one of the seals that they were after, got wind of the approach, and made for the water before the boat got there.
As the seal crawled across the ice, the shelf it was on broke and the seal made it to the water faster than it even expected (it got dumped), which of course facilitated her getaway. But, had the boat arrived first, and the catcher had leaped out onto the ice, they would have certainly gone into the icy water as well.
Anyway, back to the story... We left the Dyson around 2pm, and headed out. It was still very foggy which turned out to be to our advantage, since the light was flatter and we were not contrasting so brightly against everything else. Later on the fog lifted, and we changed our approach to a wide sweep pattern where they three boats were spread out with about 100 meters between them.
So, when they spotted a seal, as I described; they would run the zodiac up onto the ice and corral the seal in their nets. The seals fight by flopping around and trying to bite through the net, and they are very scared, so they often make scat there on the ice. This makes it easier for the scientists to gather a sample, though. Sometimes there is a little blood, due to the seals trying to bite at the net, or a claw will get caught, or there will be jagged ice. The male pup that was caught in the beginning lost a tooth, which was kind of sad.
I learned that sometimes, seals will do this reflexive thing where they will hold their breath as if they are diving... and they will not release their breath, and they will die in the net. It happened once a few days ago, and it was very upsetting to the scientists.
Regardless of that, the seals safety is of the utmost importance. The scientists know exactly what they are doing, and they do it quickly, record the data and release the seal back to slide into the water, where it may just float and stare at us for a moment or two from a distance, but is more likely to haul ass away from us as fast as it can.
Once they catch the seal with the net, which is a heavy duty net on a long pole, they will transfer it into a ‘hoop net' that has a finer mesh on it and allows them to control the movements of the seal better than if they had the long poles in the way. The scientists record the time of capture by radioing the ship and telling them to press the ‘capture' button on the computer that is set up to record that data.
They set up a harness of sorts that buckles the seal in securely, and then they raise the seal up with a scale on a bipod and record its weight. They also record the length of the seal from nose to flippers, as well as the curvilinear length, and its girth along several different points on its body. They do some kind of a check to see if the seal has molted yet, and then they take a blood sample.
As I understand it. There is some kind of ‘sinus', or a cavity of some sort that is filled with blood near the tail end of the seal, and the scientists take a sample using a syringe with a long needle. They then transfer the blood to a couple of vacuum tubes to be tested later.
Next it is time for the tag. This part was initially shocking to me, but appeared to cause the seal only minor discomfort. They take a section of the flipper and punch two holes in it with a special punch that looks like a pair of pliers. They use these pieces of tissue for a DNA sample.
They have a tongue depressor marked so they can tell how far apart to put the hole, and then they install the transmitter. It is bolted on through the flipper and made sure it is on securely. Then, while the seal is still secure in the hoop net, all the equipment is put away and the seal is prepared for release. Everyone except the seal handlers backs off and gets their cameras ready.
When the seal is released, it flops around making little growling noises and trying to look mean. It will sit there for a moment or two, looking at all of us strange creatures standing there half invisible as we make making odd clicking sounds. Then it will slowly waddle its way to the edge of the ice, looking back a few times with indignation. Then it slowly slips into the water. The radio call is made to the Dyson to have them press the ‘release' button, and then we are off to find the next seal.
We returned after the 5th seal was released, and even though they were still looking for seals on the way back to the Dyson, they were not going to stop unless they were as certain as they could be that it was a male Ribbon Seal. This wa a record for their trip thus far, and they told me that I must be their good luck charm, and wanted me to go out again. I wish I could. We arrived back to the Dyson at around 9:30pm, we boarded the Dyson via a rope ladder at the transom, and the boats were hauled up the same way they were put in.
I was thoroughly exhausted, and after a small snack in the mess deck, went straight to bed and was out like a light.
We are here for another week, then it's into Dutch Harbor for an overnighter... but the Stewards Department never rests. We've got provisions to order, and Ive got rooms to prepapre with fresh linens and towels for another full complement of scientists.
Love and Light,
Cedalion
