We heard that sound again two days ago at Cape Royds, having heard it before in January 2005, when a several square kilometer opening appeared in the fast ice just offshore in a matter of hours. The ice was dissolving, or would we call it melting?, and it was happening so fast that you could see it disappearing without even needing your imagination to be going overtime. It’s kind of like putting an ice cube in a cup of boiling tea water to watch it disappear; only here the water is just a degree above freezing. That’s plenty warm as ice goes. In 2005 the fast ice was thinner, so it went from white ice to blue water; this year it was much thicker, so for a couple of weeks it slowly turned darker shades of gray, as it took on more water. Then, fzzzzzzz.

Otherwise, except for this new patch of open water within the ice, called a polynya (a Russian word; without a doubt the Inuits have a name for this, too), there is still fast ice to the horizon as I have described in various of my previous dispatches.

The Swedish icebreaker Oden going south, very slowly, through the ice a few kilometers out in McMurdo Sound, while a polynya begins to form next to Cape Royds.

The south ‘shore’ of the polynya, the day after it initially formed, showing proximity to the Cape Royds penguin colony (tan area on left side of image). The polynya is to the right, beginning to dissolve the gray ice in the center of the image.

In fact, in the Arctic, Inuit villages — and, for that matter, seabird colonies — are located near to polynyas. And, wouldn’t you know, so are penguin colonies, although at the opposite end of the Earth. This is because polynyas allow these predators much easier access to their food. Normally, McMurdo Sound is one big polynya, and the penguins are here at Royds because of it. As I’ve been making the point in previous dispatches, the Royds penguins have been having a hard time of it this season, because their polynya didn’t form, owing to calm winds which allowed the ice to thicken until not even the strongest winds could blow it away. So, they’ve had a very long walk to get food. That is, up until a few weeks ago, when the few remaining penguins still having chicks were provided a large crack to feed in, just 4-5 km north of the colony. Now they’ve got a full-fledged, mini-polynya and all is right in the World!

Well, just like in 2005, within a day of the polynya forming, a couple of minke whales showed up in it! Where they came from, I’m not sure, but they may have followed the Oden into the ice (35 km from the fast ice edge), and then pealed off when a crack that intersected the icebreaker channel allowed them to get to the Cape Royds polynya. Maybe they heard it fizzing! Or the sounds of joyful penguins!

The minke whales, for several hours, cruised around the polynya feeding all the time. They’d submerge for 6-8 min at a time and likely were like big “Hoovers”, i.e. vacuum cleaners. Between dives, they exhaled (i.e. whale “blows”) 4-5 times, clearly audible in the still air from a kilometer away. Within a couple of hours after the whales’ arrival, the penguins’ diet switched from krill to fish. I’d been monitoring it by watching what passes between adult and chick everyday for the past few weeks. Wow! I knew that the whales could do this to the penguins, but I didn’t realize that the whales were so efficient! Not long after the whales left (they’ve not been seen for about 24 hours now) the penguins’ diet switched back to krill. Therefore, this is pretty good evidence for what we call “interference competition”. The whales certainly eat a lot but also their vacuuming causes the krill to try to escape, of course. And what krill do when being pursued, if they can, is to dive deeper and, it seems, deeper than penguins want to go, especially when there are enough fish to be had at shallower depths, though apparently not in a density that in this case would interest a minke looking for easy pickings. If the whales had vacuumed all the krill, when they left, there would be no food for the penguins. As it was, the krill ventured back up into the light (where the phytoplankton occurs that the krill eat), to then be caught by the penguins again. Both whales and penguins go for the easy meal, i.e. that nearest the surface.

Parent feeding its chick. With binoculars, if you get the right angle, usually it is possible to determine whether krill (pink) or fish (gray) is being fed to the chick.

Well, so, you’d think that maybe whales are an annoyance to Adélie penguins. As it turns out, though, minke whales are life savers! Adélie penguins, if given a choice, would always want to have minke whales around, despite the whales’ appetite and despite the best (?) efforts of the Japanese whalers. You see, minke whales — because, like Adélie penguins, they are pack ice denizens — have evolved a very long and sharp “beak”. When you see the whales in areas were the sea is freezing, it becomes quickly obvious why this is a good thing. The whales use their rostrum to break breathing holes in the new ice.

This ice is thick enough that penguins walk over it. With the whales around, though, the penguins can swim between whale breathing holes much faster than walking. In fact, several years ago, when on an icebreaker at the time of ice freeze-up in the Amundsen Sea, one day there were whales and penguins swimming around, and then the next day, with a dramatic drop in temperature and a freeze, there were whale holes but no whales or penguins. Together, they had escaped north far enough to move away from the area of freezing.

A minke whale pushing up through recently frozen sea ice, the ice around it being 4-5 cm thick.

All but one of these penguins found a hole left by a minke whale; the next whale breathing hole is just behind the lone penguin and this flock of penguins is next going to appear in that hole.

These penguins are not walking on frosted glass. They are walking on ice thick enough to support their weight, but not thick enough that a minke whale could not break a hole.

It is good for Adélie penguins to have as many minke whales around as possible. This one, like the pied piper, is making a “channel” through new ice, soon to be followed by a flock (school?) of penguins, who would much rather swim than walk.

Penguins need whales, especially minke whales, as friends.

Cruise track for HEALY Arctic West Summer Cruise 2008, Leg 4.

The principal work of the first evening included the project of Kate Stafford from the University of Washington, who is retrieving and redeploying moorings placed on the seafloor which are equipped with hydrophones to listen for the sounds of various marine mammals, including seals, walrus, and beluga whales, but with particular emphasis on recording the sounds of bowhead whales (Balaena mysticetus), the sounds of which can be heard at: http://www.dosits.org/gallery/marinemm/15.htm.

The bowhead whales are one of the key marine species in the ecosystem, and important for traditional Inuit culture — their meat and blubber a source of food, and their bones used as sled runners and in house construction. Their baleen (the horny plates in their mouths with which they filter the small shrimp-like euphausiids and copepods — their main food), as shown in the baleen model boat in Day One’s blog, was put to many traditional uses in Inuit culture: as a tough cordage for seal and fish nets; for short lanyards and lashings on sleds; as the tip of dogsled whips; for hunting snares for birds and rabbits; bent into boxes for keeping harpoon heads; made into traditional Inuit snow goggles to prevent snow blindness from glare off snow and ice; as a brow on hats for kayakers to keep spray out of their eyes; as fletching on spears and arrows instead of feathers; and as large knives for cutting ice for igloos, and smaller story knives used to tell stories by ‘drawing’ in snow or dirt. Baleen was also woven together without being cut to form racks hung from the ceiling for general storage, and as floorboards in the traditional semi-subterranean Inuit houses shown in the Day One blogs: a sort of Inuit linoleum! And, in earlier times when warfare between native groups existed, it was also used as plates woven together in the construction of armor. Making of woven baleen baskets was an innovation of the late nineteenth century begun by Barrow resident Charlie Brower.

The bowhead whale is still the principal whale hunted off Barrow. Getting an accurate count of bowhead whales has been a key issue for scientists and the Inuit people for many decades to ensure their proper management and conservation. Preliminary information on the results of the annual aerial survey, along pictures of bowhead whales may be found at: http://www.afsc.noaa.gov/nmml/cetacean/bwasp/index.php. Kate’s hydrophone arrays are deployed offshore of the 100 meter depth line at two locations along the coast in groups of three to allow tracking of whales passing along the coast. Their batteries allow them to operate for a year. In the first day of science, the arrays already deployed from the previous year are retrieved by positioning the ship over their location and generating a specific series of tones which activates an acoustic release. Floats which had remained submerged with the hydrophones are then released from their bottom weights, and the hydrophone and floats drift up to the surface where they are located by a small boat, and passed off to the ship, which then hoists them back onto the deck.

Coast Guard small boat used to retrieve moorings by snagging their floats after release from seafloor.

Once the hydrophones are retrieved, Kate downloads the data from the past year collected by the hydrophones, changes out the batteries and data recording computer hard drives, and later in the cruise will redeploy them. Of concern when retrieving the hydrophones is the ability to find them if there is heavy ice. High resolution (100 meter) satellite images have been requested by the ship showing where the ice is located.

100 meter resolution Radarsat satellite image showing ice concentrations in Beaufort Sea off Barrow, Alaska.

This imagery is from a Radarsat satellite, which is particularly useful as it can see through the ubiquitous fog. In areas where ice concentrations are heavy, hydrophone retrieval can be delayed until the ice has moved away, and the likelihood of retrieving the moorings is more certain: better to wait a bit for conditions to improve than risk a full year’s data.

The principal components of hydrophone mooring array, shown in the photo below being disconnected from the cable by Kate Stafford of the University of Washington and John Kemp of the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, are the hydrophone and acoustic release. When the mooring array is redeployed, a float is put over the side first. It is the float which provides the lift to allow the hydrophone and acoustic release to surface, be located by a small boat and retrieved. After the float goes over the side, the hydrophone, and then acoustic release go over, and last of all the weight for the mooring anchor is put over the side. When everything is in the water, the ship is positioned precisely over the desired mooring location, and a manual release is used which, when a rope attached to it is pulled, drops the weight at the correct location, and the entire array is pulled downward to the bottom, where it remains until the ship returns to ‘ping’ the acoustic release with the precise acoustic series of tones to retrieve it a year hence.

Hydrophone and acoustic release mooring components.

Float, weight, hydrophone and acoustic release.

Manual release for weight.

Bowheads were among the whales fairly heavily hunted during the golden days of whaling in the second half of the nineteenth century. Bowhead populations in advance of this period have been cited as about 16,000 animals, although of course, it is impossible to know for certain their historical abundance. The current estimate of the Beaufort-Chukchi-Bering Sea bowhead population is about 8,000-10,000 animals. The numbers of these whales seems to be stable and actually increasing. It is important to get good data on their numbers and habitat use as changes occur in sea ice and ship traffic in the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas.

Each year the bowhead whales migrate south through the Bering Strait in the winter to avoid seas completely covered with heavy ice, so that they can continue to surface and breathe. In the spring they migrate north from the ice edge in the Bering Sea into and through the Chukchi Sea, and many migrate north around Barrow and then east along the coast toward the Canadian arctic and Northwest Passage channels. Maps of the migration routes of some whales tagged by Alaska Fish and Game Department personnel can be seen at http://www.wildlife.alaska.gov/index.cfm?adfg=marinemammals.maps&name=8-10.jpg. As winter arrives, the whales return south along the coast to the Bering Sea.

Interestingly, the bowhead whales are often accompanied north by beluga whales (Delphinapterus leucas), the truly “white whales” of the northern seas. Because of their much smaller size, the belugas cannot easily break through the ice to make breathing holes themselves, and follow the bowhead whales using them as their own ‘icebreaking vessels’ to access more northerly waters in spring. Once in the Beaufort Sea the bowhead whales appear to distinctly prefer the waters closer to shore along the Alaskan North Slope, while aircraft sightings and tagged animals show that belugas remain further offshore in deeper waters, with a fairly distinct separation of habitat use. The fact that bowheads prefer the more nearshore waters along the North Slope makes them potentially more susceptible to increased human activities, and Kate’s project all the more important to contribute to continued monitoring of population levels.

Hunting whales by certain arctic peoples is much more than simply an avocation or way of harvesting food. This is perhaps difficult for outsiders to fully comprehend, but whaling in traditional Inuit and other arctic whaling cultures was, and still is, almost a religious or deeply spiritual enterprise, surrounded with rituals of moral purification and behavioral restrictions. It is still emphatically pointed out that one does not actually hunt whales, but one simply goes hunting for whales: it is the whale that gives itself to the hunter and whaling crew which has strictly maintained the traditions associated with successful whaling. In the arctic this invariably includes, among many other things, widespread distribution of the animals taken to everyone in the community, and other communities as well, practices which are still sustained. George Naekok, who is with us as an Inuit observer on this cruise, has been whaling most of his life.

Barrow resident George Naekok.

Insignia of the Barrow crew which includes George Naekok.

The young leaves are eaten in salads or cooked like spinach and frozen to eat in the winter months. The leaves are also chopped and cooked with a base of lard and sugar to make a dessert called ‘Eskimo ice cream’.

Sour dock has a tall inflorescence (stem of flower clusters) of reddish-brown flowers. The long narrow leaves at the base of the plant are gathered, boiled and preserved by the Yup’ik.

The Yup’ik believe the leaves, or the vegetative part, of the sour dock plant are female. In contrast, the inflorescences, or reproductive structures, are male. Our aim was to collect young green leaves: female sour dock.

To do so, we traveled up the Kanektok River with Gloria and Jackie, two students in the class. The Kanektok River flows about ninety miles from its headwaters through the nearby Ahklun Mountains. It joins the Bering Sea at the village of Quinhagak.

Cecilia awaits our put-in in Jackie’s little boat.

Jackie is a native of the village and we were grateful to have her as our guide. Both her and her grandmother collect sour dock along the river in mid-summer.

Sour dock is but one food Jackie and her grandmother gather. Here, king salmon harvested from the Kanektok River dries in the sun beside Jackie’s grandmother’s smokehouse.

Jackie recently cut salmon strips from their smoked fish to eat during the winter months.

Armed with our plastic grocery bags for collecting, we journeyed up the river. We were fortunate to find two places where sour dock was abundant among the riparian vegetation (plants by the river).

Me standing among the riparian vegetation with gathering bag in hand. Tall red sour dock plants in flower are visible in the foreground.

Cecilia and I vigorously collected leaves at the first area until we came upon a very recent (and tremendous!) grizzly bear track. We swiftly joined the other two and convinced them to set out on the river to collect elsewhere.

A Grizzly bear track in the mud along the river bank.

Together, Cecilia and I gathered three overflowing bags of sour dock leaves.

Beautiful Cecilia takes a break from collecting. A tributary of the river is visible in the background.

The typical vegetation of the wetter sites along the river. The yellow flowered plant with rounded leaves is marsh marigold (Caltha palustris).

A bouquet of handsome flowers from the wintergreen plant (Pyrola asarifolia).

The Yup’ik, the native peoples of the Yukon-Kuskokwim delta region, have lived at this site since at least 1,000 AD. The village is located at the mouth of the enchanting Kanetok River, on the shore of Kuskokwim Bay of the Bering Sea.

Our field trip to the Bering Sea coast to collect seashore plants.

What is ethnobotany? It is the study of how people of a particular culture use indigenous plants for provisions such as medicine, food, shelter and religious ceremonies. Botany, or the study of plants, forms the foundation for ethnobotany.

The aim for the course was to survey basic concepts of botany and ethnobotany, with emphasis on the native flora of Alaska and how people use these plants. I was paired with Kevin, an ethnobotanist, to introduce students to the fundamentals of plant biology and taxonomy (classification). My aim was to teach students to recognize regionally important plant families based on field characteristics and by using scientific keys. We also discussed methods of plant collection, including curation and ethical collecting concerns relating to plant conservation.

In the classroom, a student examines various plants representing common tundra plant families.

In the field, students collect tundra plants. The tundra is carpeted with an endless sea of the tufted fruits of cotton grass (Eriophorum russeolum).

In turn, I learned from Kevin the general principals of ethnobotany, including its history and importance in traditional and modern culture. We were fortunate to also be accompanied by two Yup’ik elders, Annie from Quinhagak and Cecilia from nearby Chevak. With their guidance, we discussed the cultural relevance of the native flora to the Yup’ik, as well as its traditional use for food and medicines.

Annie and Cecilia.

Although I was an instructor for the class, quite often I also played the role of learner. Not only did I learn from Kevin, I also learned from both the elders and students about their dependence upon the regional flora. Moreover, I quickly learned that I must adapt my university honed teaching philosophy. The class was taught in English, however the elders’ native language is Yup’ik. Furthermore, nearly every student was bilingual. Our discussions alternated between languages and required translation both to and from Yup’ik. I found this process absolutely fascinating.

Annie shares a beautiful bag constructed from a common seaside grass, or tapernaq in Yup’ik (Elymus arenarius).

On one occasion, I shared a plant with the class that Cecilia recalled from her youth. The plant, marsh five-finger (Potentilla palustris), is prevalent in wet tundra in western Alaska. She clutched the plant in her outstretched hand and asked quietly in her timid English, “Where did you find this plant?” I shared that I collected it nearby in the tundra surrounding the village. As she admired the plant, she shared her story about the marsh five-finger in Yup’ik. While the language was unfamiliar, her enthusiasm about and her high regard for the plant was apparent. I learned through translation that she remembered her grandmother collecting the plant when she was a very young girl. It was collected, dried, ground and drank in a tea as a substitute for coffee.

We had many similar plant encounters throughout the week; it was truly a dynamic learning experience for us all.

I was befriended by a local Yup’ik boy while I collected plants. He greeted me each afternoon with a bouquet of tundra plants. Usually, soon after I accepted his offering he shyly ran away.

My new friend with a twig from a felt-leaf willow (Salix alaxensis).

An Iñupiaq whaling captain and boat on the frozen Chukchi Sea.

Artifacts found in western Siberia suggest that people were in the Arctic about 40,000 years ago. There’s also evidence that the first people to reach the Americas may have come through Asia and gone through the Arctic on a land bridge between Alaska and Siberia some 20,000 years later. Scientists believe that the area now known as the Alaska was the first settled region of the Arctic, probably about 15,000 years ago.

Today, the Artic is home to about 4 million people spread across several countries: Norway, Sweden, Canada, Greenland (a territory of Denmark), Russia, the United States (Alaska), Iceland, and Finland. About a third of those people are believed to be indigenous.

The indigenous groups are Inuit (Inuit includes the Iñupiaq and several other peoples), who range from Alaska to Canada and Greenland; the Saami in Scandinavia; the Nenets in northwest Russia; the Sakha (Yakut) of Russia; and the Chukchi of Siberia.

Many indigenous groups in the Arctic have formed organizations to speak with a unified voice and to protect their way of life.

A mother and daughter shopping at Barrow’s main grocery store.