Connecting the oceans to land are numerous carbon highways.  These conduits bring food from land to the ocean, supporting an abundance of life.  Our group explores these carbon chains and explores some potential methods of carbon delivery to the deep.  Thus, alligators on the abyss.

At first it may seem fanciful that an alligator carcass might find its way to the deep.  However, dozens of species of alligators and crocodiles are found across the globe, in high numbers, and often in coastal areas.  Through either their normal migrating or foraging activities, or during flooding events, individuals may be found offshore in the ocean.  If one of those individuals meets an unfortunate end, it may fall to the seafloor.

In prehistoric times, the impact to the deep oceans could have been even larger, as large reptiles such as ichthyosaurs and plesiosaurs dominated the sea. Deploying a reptile in the deep sea today may reveal the animals that specialized on the carcasses of long-extinct ancient emperors of the sea.

Earlier this year, our research group placed three alligator carcasses 1.5 miles deep on the seafloor of the Gulf of Mexico in the first-ever alligator fall experiment.  Each of the three alligators met a different fate.

The first alligator had been on the bottom of the ocean for less than 24 hours. Despite the tough hide of the alligator, scavengers quickly got through and began to gorge themselves on the flesh of the alligator. Football-sized animals called giant isopods, relatives of rolly pollys or pillbugs, penetrated the hide in this short time-frame.  This demonstrates the speed and precision with which deep-sea scavengers can utilize any carbon source, even food from land and freshwater systems.

A little over 60 miles to the east of the first alligator, the second alligator had been sitting on the seafloor for a little over a month and a half.  All the soft tissue of the alligator had been removed by scavengers.  A small animal called an amphipod was still darting around looking for scraps, but the only thing that remained was a skeleton.  All of the soft tissue had been consumed. The spine curved just as it had been left.  A depression in the sediments indicated where the full body once laid.  The skull was turned over, likely by scavengers while picking at the flesh on the skull.

A fuzzy carpet covering the bones of the second alligator represented a brand-new species, previously unknown to science.  These zombie worms, or Osedax, colonize the bones of many types of vertebrates and consume the lipids within.  This was the first time zombie worms had ever been observed in the Gulf of Mexico or from an alligator fall.  They also demonstrate yet another pathway in which carbon from land makes its way into deep-sea food webs.

Another 60 miles east lay the third alligator.  It had only been eight days since it was laid on the seafloor.  As the camera panned to the marking device, a floating bucket lid attached to a rope like an underwater flag, it became clear that the alligator was missing.  All that remained where it had been dropped was an alligator-shaped depression in the sediments.  Drag marks in the sediment paved a path to what remained of the alligator fall.  An animal dragged this alligator 30 feet and left only the 45-pound weight and rope.  The rope had been bitten completely through. To consume an alligator, and create this disturbance, the animal must have been of great size.  We hypothesize that most likely a large shark, like a Greenland shark or sixgill shark, consumed this alligator whole.

Three alligator falls in the abyss met three very different ends, from being consumed by football-sized cousins of rolly polys, to zombie worms eating their bones, to a large shark dragging it away and consuming it whole.  This research has given us a glimpse into what impact large reptiles had in past oceans, as well as the role they play today.  It is clear that deep-ocean scavengers have no qualms about successfully and quickly consuming food that originated on land or freshwater.

Read more about this research in our group’s recent publication in PLOS One: “Alligators in the abyss: The first experimental reptilian food fall in the deep ocean.”

The post Alligators in the Abyss: Part 2 first appeared on Deep Sea News.

These bada$$ carbons are “isotopes”, sort of like fraternal twins (or triplets/quadruplets) where one is blazing their own path.  One of the twins is your regular Joe Shmoe who follows the rules and does everything by the book.  These are the ones shown in the periodic table.  The other twin in each set has the same number of protons as its boring twin, but it doesn’t follow the rules about how many neutrons they are supposed to have. They’re greedy little thieves. So, they are technically the same element, but they end up weighing different.  For instance, Carbon-13 has his regular six protons like its brother, but it has a whopping seven neutrons because it just haaaad to go and be extra cool. 

Almost every element has some number of isotopes/twins, except weird ones like Thulium and Holmium – but who even are those guys? Now, the wrong-number-of-neutrons outlaw twin can either be “stable” or “unstable”.  It’s like the difference between the cool guy in class and the guy who is so “cool” that he ends up expelled from school.  The stable ones are functional in society – in this case meaning they occur in nature without a problem.  The unstable ones are completely dysfunctional and over time try to turn back into their more stable twins by shedding neutrons.  It’s kind of like they just went too neutron-crazy, got a little wild, and now they’re all bloated and not having a good time. 

Knowing about these different carbons is important because stable isotopes can help reveal food webs.  Naturally occurring carbon consists of both the normal carbon and its bad boy twin.  We have a method that allows us to measure the ratio between the outlaw and the normal (we call this ratio the isotopic ratio). By measuring the carbon isotopic ratio of an animal, we can answer questions like what did this animal eat, what level consumer are they, and even what kind of eater are they (suspension feeder, predator, etc). This is especially important in my work because I want to understand how carbon from land makes it into the deep-sea food web. When I drop a big hunk of land carbon in the form of an alligator or a wood log (wood fall), I first measure the ratio of good boy to bad boy carbon in that particular hunk of food.  I also collect samples of the sediments around where I drop the food and measure the ratio of carbons in that sample too.  Then, after letting the food stay on the bottom of the ocean for a while, I can take animals directly off of it and take similar animals far away from the it.  When I measure the ratio of carbons in these animals, I can compare them to the ratio of the two food sources I measured and can understand which food source the animals are using.

The reason this all works is because of the saying “you are what you eat.”  Turns out that is actually true!  We know how much the good boy to bad boy carbon ratio should change from a food item to its consumer. This is especially helpful as we begin moving up the food web, because we can start to see who is eating whom – and this is something not yet well understood in the deep sea.

The post You are what you eat! Using bad boy carbons to understand food webs first appeared on Deep Sea News.

After Pliny’s monstrosity, many centuries went by before this question was really tackled again.  In 1815, Edward Forbes took a ride aboard the HMS Beacon, where he dredged the bottom at depths from 1-1,380 feet (0 – 420 m).  Just so you know, the average depth of the ocean is about 12,000 feet (4,000 m).  So, when I say he was barely scratching the surface, I’m not really exaggerating.  But nevertheless, he dredged the depths that he did and found that the deeper he dredged at, the less things he found.  So naturally, he thought, there must be a “zero point” at which no animals live.  He wildly extrapolated his data and determined that below 1,800 feet (600 m) there exist no animals, and he called this the “azoic zone.” So, Forbes’ answer to how many species in the deep sea was a big fat “not many.”

Luckily this “azoic zone” nonsense only lasted about 50 years.  In 1869, Charles Wyville Thomson and the rest of the crew onboard the HMS Porcupine pulled up animals from 14,610 feet (4,450 m) deep in the waters south of Ireland.  These results were later confirmed by the Challenger expedition which found animals at all depths, all over the globe.  This undeniably proved there was life at all depth of the oceans- but the question still remained.  How many species in the deep sea?

Fast forward to 1992.  Frederick Grassle and Nancy Maciolek conduct a massive (for the time) survey of the tiny animals that live in the sediments in the deep sea.  These are not the cute crawlies that live on top of the mud that had been previously sampled with dredges.  These are the small animals that live their lives between the grains of dirt at the bottom of the ocean.  Of the 798 species that they found, over half were new to science!  Pliny’s head would explode if he heard that more than double the total animals he thought existed in the whole ocean were found just in the mud.

Grassle and Maciolek did some impressive math and ended up calculating that they were finding one new species per square kilometer they sampled.  Let’s break that down.  One square kilometer is equal to a little more than one-third of a square mile.  So, they are basically finding three new species in each one-mile-square block of mud they are sampling.  This means if they were to sample an area the size of New York City, they would find around 782 new species, and if they were to sample an area the size of London, they would find about 1,572 new species.  These new species add up fast – you see, there are 300,000,000 square kilometers (115,830,647 square miles – almost 30 Europes or 431 Texases) of mud deeper than 1000 m in the ocean. The end result of all this is a conclusion of 300,000,000 species living in the mud at the bottom of the deep ocean.  This is not counting swimming things!  That’s a heck of a larger estimate than the 176 species estimate of centuries ago.

.It turns out that this calculation of Grassle and Maciolek was probably a bit of an overestimation.  They realized that much of the ocean is oligotrophic, or not very nutrient-rich and therefore not very productive.  This would mean that in many areas of the ocean, the rate of new species added per square kilometer is probably much less than what they found in their sampling area.   So, they ended up conservatively estimating the true number at more like 10,000,000 species in the mud. This is still a huge amount of diversity in the deep sea.

Grassle and Maciolek’s 10 million species hypothesis sparked quite the controversy, with biologists from many sub-disciplines quickly arguing for or against the high number.  Isopod biologists Poore and Wilson said they had seen even more diversity just among isopods in their samples than the average number of species per 100 samples that Grassle and Maciolek had used in their calculations.  This, they argued, must mean there are even more than 10 million species!  In 1971, though, Thorson argued that there were only 160,000 species in the oceans across all depths- so far less than 10 million could be in the deep sea.  In 1992, May argued that only 500,000 species would be possible in the deep sea.  Lambshead in 1993 reminded everyone that there are a boatload of nematode worms and other animals (collectively called meiofauna) that live in the mud that were too small to be sampled by the gear Grassle and Maciolek used.  This, Lambshead argued, could mean a total of 100,000,000 marine species.  Consensus just could not be reached.

Here’s the problem, though.  It is a hard question to answer.  Each person who has attempted to answer this question was doing the best with the data that they had at the time (except Pliny- that guy was just an idiot okay). However, species diversity and especially how many species you discover in each new deep-sea “block” can vary considerably at different depths, regions, and oceans. Grassle and Maciolek’s encoutering 3 new species per block was based on data from the North Atlantic. Does 3 new species “rule” also apply to other parts of the Atlantic or to the Pacific? So without massive amounts of data, it is likely we will be kept guessing for a few more years to come. So, I can’t tell you exactly how many species are in the deep sea, but I can tell you that we currently have 409,543 named species in the ocean (World Register of Marine Species, accessed 03/18/2019).  The best part is that we are getting better and better at discovering new species, and hopefully in years to come we will be much better equipped to answer this question realistically.

Cover photo credit to Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI).

The post How many species are in the deep sea? first appeared on Deep Sea News.

Prior to 1967, the environmental extremes of the deep were thought to limit life. The deep sea is dark (can’t-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face dark), cold (only-four-degrees-above-freezing cold), and under an extreme amount of pressure (one-elephant-on-each-square-inch-of-your-body pressure).  This suite of factors should make survival challenging, and thus for a century, scientists assumed the deep sea was biologically a desolate wasteland.  Even after the discoveries of animals living at extreme depths in the late 1800s, Victorian scientists expected that there could not be a diverse array of animals surviving in the deep sea.  Enter Robert Hessler and Howard Sanders who in 1967 used newly developed sampling devices to discover that the deep sea is shockingly diverse, and perhaps just as diverse as tropical shallow-water habitats. 

Scientists were completely baffled as to how high diversity could occur in such a bleak place.  They began to throw out theories, but they were limited by the little data that had been gathered from a poorly explored deep ocean.  The scientific publications of this time on deep-sea diversity read like there were a few people in a room with a whiteboard, writing everything they remember from their ecological textbooks, talking through each theory, slowly crossing off possibilities, and working their way down the list.  

Howard Sanders began by writing “Specialization” on the whiteboard with his paper introducing the Stability-Time Hypothesis in 1968.  He suggested that because the deep sea is monotonous and predictable (i.e., it is stable), populations have the evolutionary time to become newly specialized in how they feed. Over time, these populations become so specialized they evolve into totally new species, eventually driving diversity up.  Further research and explorations indicated that the premise of this argument was wrong- the deep sea is actually not that stable.

Then, Paul Dayton and Robert Hessler walked up to the board and scratched off the “Specialization” idea with their paper in 1972 entitled “The role of biological disturbance in maintaining diversity in the deep sea.”  The pair do not argue against the idea that the deep sea is predictable and stable.  In fact, they favor the idea… except for the part where they proved that deep-sea species are actually not more specialized than shallow water species.

“Specialization” got a strikethrough on the whiteboard, and Dayton and Hessler wrote “Predation” below it.   The duo introduced a specific type of predation pressure they labelled “biological cropping.”  No, biological cropping is not deep-sea animals learning agricultural techniques… but a combination of predation and deposit feeding.  Animals can eat other animals either intentionally (e.g. hunting down prey) or unintentionally (e.g. stuffing everything you come across into your mouth and it just so happens that you get a live one).  This “cropping,” whether accidental or not, reduces competition by preventing one or a few abundant species from monopolizing the resource.  These species get knocked out, allowing far more species to get a piece of the proverbial pie. Nobody gets sent into extinction by competition.  Dayton and Hessler’s idea is not necessarily that diversity is driven to be high in the deep sea, just that it is not limited.

Dayton and Hessler’s “Predation” idea never got fully scratched off the list, but the difficulty of testing the idea and conflicting results have led many to write large question marks next to it.   Many other ideas now are situated below “Predation,” including: “Disturbance,” “Patchiness,” and “Successional Dynamics.”

Ultimately, those of us in the deep-sea scientific community are still today standing around the dry erase board bouncing many of these same ideas off each other.  Sometimes we manage to cross one off the list, or add one, or at least add to our understanding of the ideas.  One thing is clear though, we still haven’t gotten it all figured out.  So… anyone have a dry erase marker?

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