I am not sure when this obsession with both small and large things began. One of the earliest photographs of me is in a giant rocking chair. With a big smile on my face, I am dwarfed by the colossal piece of furniture. Sadly, in researching this post I discovered this rocking chair is not the largest. That title is bestowed to a towering rocking chair, a 56.5 feet tall behemoth in Casey, Illinois, not only the world’s largest rocking chair but also the largest chair in all of America. I will of course need to visit, and photograph, myself next to the massive chair. Another photograph to add to my photo collection of myself with oversized objects. The world’s largest Adirondack chair and me…got it. Largest chest of drawers…done. Largest frying pan…visited. Giant 6-foot tall cheese grater…photographed and almost bought. I could go on and on.

I never realized I could get paid for my obsession. I did not at some point in high school realize or declare I wanted a vocation focused on extreme sizes. Nor was such a trajectory flagged as a possibility on those mandated vocational tests. I got flagged for being perfect for cake decorating. No joke. Nothing about decorating tiny or giant cakes. Of course, who would even think you could make a career out of a passion for size, except maybe Guinness World Records? No, I came by it all by accident.

As an undergraduate, I applied for a summer program to conduct research with a biologist. Knowing at the time I wanted to be a marine biologist, I applied to do summer research counting fish on the coral reefs of St. Croix. An unshockingly, popular choice among undergraduates, I did not get the position. My second and third choices were the only other ocean-based projects in the program. When the scientist involved with my second choice project called to invite me to work with him that summer, I didn’t even remember what the project was. I wasn’t really concerned with the specifics of the other projects because how could I not be selected for my first choice, St. Croix, dream project. Opposed to the beautiful tropical beaches of the Caribbean, my destiny would be to work in a windowless lab all summer in Boston. The project didn’t exceedingly interest me at the time as I wanted to be a field scientist and microscopy in the lab sounded…well dull. But working in an air-conditioned lab in the big city sounded better than living with my parents in rural Arkansas working in the intense Southern heat sweating in a factory. So off to Boston I went. Within a few hours of the first day, I fell in love with the project. So much so I asked that scientist, a preeminent deep-sea biologist and expert on the body size of marine invertebrates, if I could pursue a doctorate with him.

In the biological world, size is more than a novelty. How an organism relates to the world around it is determined by its size, and understanding what influences size is key to understanding the diversity of life itself.  That summer I measured the size of 100’s of tiny snails and when I returned to pursue my Ph.D. I measured thousands more. In total I measured 14,278 deep-sea snails. The largest no bigger than Abraham Lincoln’s head on the face of the penny. The smallest the size of his nose. Those snails I measured were collected from off the coast of New England from depths of over 600 feet to well over 18,000 feet, from the shallows of the New England continental shelf to the abyssal plains.

Why would anyone measure close to 15,000 snails? In the late 1800’s Henry Nottidge Mosely wrote: “Some animals appear to be dwarfed by deep- sea conditions.” By the 1970s, Hjalmar Thiel of Universität Hamburg observed that the deep sea is a “small organism habitat.” Increased depth typically translates into less food in the oceans with the deep-sea being a very food poor environment. As you might expect this has profound effects on the body size of deep-sea animals. Thiel’s seminal 1975 work demonstrated that with increased depth, smaller organisms became more dominant. At depths greater than 4 kilometers on the vast abyssal plains where food is extremely limited, you find some of the most diminutive sizes. In a particularly striking example of this, my doctoral advisor Michael Rex and I calculated those nearly 15,000 deep-sea snails I measured could fit completely inside a single Busycon carica, a fist-sized New England knobbed whelk found along the coast. But by measuring all those snails, Mike and I were able to document exactly how size in these snails changes over a 3.5 mile increase in depth. That study was the first of its kind and remains the largest number of deep-sea animals ever individually measured.

But to say that all creatures of the deep are miniaturized overlooks the complexity of size evolution in the deep sea. Some taxa actually become giants. The Giant Isopod, a roly-poly the size of very large men’s shoe, and sea-spiders the size of dinner plates, quickly dispel the Lilliputian view of the deep sea. Although all those deep-sea snails are smaller than their shallow-water relatives, shockingly Mike and I also found that they actually increase in size with greater depth and presumed lower food availability. To further confound the situation, other scientists have reported the exact opposite pattern in other types of snails, whose size decreases with depth. The same appeared to be true in other taxa, such as crustaceans. How can the deep-sea be both a habitat of dwarfs and giants?

To answer that, I turned from the Earth’s largest habitat to one of its smallest—islands. On islands both giants and dwarfs exist. The diminished kiwi and the enormous Moa of New Zealand, the colossal Komodo dragon on the island of Komodo, the extinct pygmy elephants on the islands of the Mediterranean, the ant-sized frog of the Seychelles, the giant hissing cockroach of Madagascar and the giant tortoise of the Galapagos represent just a few of the multitudes of size extremes on islands. In 1964, J. Bristol Foster of the University of East Africa demonstrated that large mammals became miniaturized over time on islands. Conversely, small mammals tended toward gigantism. This occurs with such frequency that scientists refer to it as “Foster’s rule” or the “Island rule.” Big animals getting small and small animals getting large.

My colleagues and I discovered a similar pattern in 2006 between shallow and deep seas. As shallow-water gastropods evolved into deep-sea dwellers, small species became larger and large species became smaller. Interestingly, size did not shift in a parallel manner. Larger taxa became disproportionately smaller sized—that is, both converged on a size somewhat smaller than medium. I’ve since observed this pattern in radically different taxa, such as bivalves, sharks, and cephalopods.

The fact that islands and the deep sea have so little in common represents a wonderful opportunity that allows elimination of several hypotheses. Of course, what the deep sea lacks is food. The absence of sunlight precludes plants.   Thus, for the majority of organisms living there, the food chain starts with plankton, dead organisms and other organic debris descending from the ocean’s surface. Less than five per cent of the total food available drifts to the sea floor, leading to an extremely food-limited environment. On islands, less food is available because the small land areas support fewer plants at the base of the food chain.

In either case, island and deep-sea animals need to be efficient and creative in their acquisition of food. In both habitats, there may not be enough total food to support populations of giants only. Unable to travel long distances to search for food or to store large fat reserves to fast through periods of food scarcity, smaller organisms are also at a disadvantage. If these contrasting evolutionary pressures were equal, size would be driven to an intermediate. However, the selection against larger sizes is greater, leading toward an evolutionary convergence that is slightly smaller than the intermediate size. Thus, differential responses to food reduction by different- sized organisms may resolve the outstanding paradox of divergent size patterns in the deep. In the interests of reaching this ‘golden medium’, some species become giant while others miniaturized.

In that summer of 1996, as a clueless undergraduate, I started my scientific adventure that fueled my obsession with size. Two decades later, I still am excited by the body size of animals. Much of my research, and the students who work with me, is dedicated to understanding how the expansive variety of sizes on Earth from bacteria to blue whales emerged. Did I mention the great selfie I took recently with a giant whale vertebra the size of coffee table?

The post Craig With Big Things (and Small Things) first appeared on Deep Sea News.

ARRRRR ME HEARTIES!!!! So ye want t’ be a pirate, t’ sail the open sea searching for booty – what? You said a marine biologist? Oh. Well, sailing the open sea searching for booty is actually prohibited by UNOLS regulations – what? Oh, you wanted advice on how to BECOME a marine biologist. All right then. Fall must be the time when a
student’s heart turns toward the call of the sea, for I have received several requests for advice from undergraduate students.

And let me just get this out of the way – being a marine biologist is not about pulling golf balls out of whale blowholes or hugging dolphins. If you want to do that, become a wildlife veterinarian or a dolphin trainer. Marine biology is about figuring out the way the ocean works – and most of the ocean is not made out of dolphins. (That is too horrible a scenario to contemplate).

There are bad reasons and good reasons to become a marine biologist. Fortunately Dr. Milton Love has a convenient list which you should go read immediately. Go there now. Still want to be a marine biologist? Did you read the part about the smell? Ok, you’re sure? Keep on reading this blog post, then.

The following advice is aimed at undergraduates, and is my personal opinion and should by no means be taken as the One True Way. I invite our marine biological readers (both academic and non-academic) to add their own suggestions in the comments.

GET YOUR ACADEMIC SCIENCE ON

You have to have a solid, traditional science background to be a marine biologist. This means the standard coursework in biology, chemistry, physics, math, and statistics. If you want to take environmental studies-interdisciplinary-type courses, go ahead, but it won’t do you any good without the basics. The easiest way to do this is to major in a hard science, but it is possible to major in something else so long as you do this coursework. You don’t have to love all of it – please don’t ask me about my grade in Organic Chemistry – but you have to do most of it reasonably well. I strongly recommend computer programming as well – scientists today live in a glorious sea of data, and you are going to have to know how to program in order to avoid drowning in it. (I spent a year and a half weeping into my R code – don’t be like me!).

Assuming you want to be a marine BIOLOGIST, take lots of biology! Ecology, evolutionary biology, genetics, microbiology, cell biology, invertebrate zoology…even if the course is not directly about marine science, you will be learning skills that can answer questions about the ocean. If you don’t like advanced biology courses, well, you probably won’t like marine biology.

FIND A WAY TO GET RESEARCH EXPERIENCE

So, marine biology is about learning how the amazing animals and ecosystems of the ocean work, but how exactly do we do that? RESEARCH! Classwork will give you the basics, but working in a lab or doing independent research is how you’re going to learn how science is actually done. It is easiest to start as an undergraduate, since there are lots of opportunities and resources out there to help you. (More on non-undergraduate opportunities later).

You might notice that many of the things on this list involve talking to your professors. Getting to know them is one of the best investments you can make, though I know it’s not easy, especially at large universities. But science professors (along with teaching) are also running a lab, doing research, talking with other scientists who are doing research, and have graduate students in need of help with their own research – so getting to know them is one of the best ways of getting your foot in the door. Also, you’re going to need recommendation letters for most of the below list of programs, and it’s pretty hard for a professor to write a letter for a student they’ve never spoken to. So go to office hours and talk to them – the best time is at the beginning of the semester when things are pretty quiet.

Here’s a list to get you started:

• Work in a lab. I got started in marine ecology when some weird guy I knew from student theater said that his lab was hiring undergrad assistants. I needed a job, and that sounded fun. Well, scanning several thousand slides (this was before digital cameras) was not exactly fun per se…but it got me involved in the life of the lab. I met the graduate students, went to lab meeting, and started to learn how this whole science thing worked. Many labs hire undergraduate research assistants, and it is a great way to learn about science while gaining some useful skills. So go to your professors’ office hours and ask if there are any opportunities in their labs, or if they know of any in their departments.

• Take a research semester abroad. There are many programs that allow you to go abroad, get course credit, and do science.  They may cost more money than your usual tuition, but may also have financial aid programs. The two programs I know of off the top of my head are Sea Education Association (sail on a tall ship, learn oceanography and maritime skills) and Three Seas Program (coastal marine science in New England, the Caribbean, and southern California). Both of these program have a strong academic component (e.g., you’ll do coursework in marine science) and emphasize independent research skills. No doubt there are more of these programs – if you have experience with one, please add it in the comments. [Update: Another program mentioned in the comments: the Williams College/Mystic Seaport Maritime Studies Program.] [Update II: Also CSU Marine Biology Semester at USC Wrigley Institute for Environmental Studies].

• Do independent research. The core of being a marine biologist is, of course, research. One of the best ways to get research experience is through the National Science Foundation Research Experience for Undergraduates (REU) program. These are usually summer programs (though some are at different times of year) that set you up with a lab and and a mentor, and pay you a reasonable stipend (enough to satisfy most work-study requirements) to do research. You can search on their website for programs you might be interested in – here is the list of Ocean Sciences REUs. (I did two REUs as an undergraduate and they were both amazing experiences.) Another great resource is Pathways to Science, which focuses particularly on connecting underrepresented groups with mentors and opportunities. Your university may also have programs just for its own students – investigate by asking your professors and with the appropriate Student Affairs office. [Update: the MBARI Summer Internship.]

YOU’VE GRADUATED – NOW WHAT?

Once you are no longer a student, the path becomes more twisty and difficult, and some of the unfairness of the academic system kicks in. Here are your options:

• Go directly to graduate school, do not pass go, and definitely do not collect $200. If you’ve majored in a hard science and gotten some independent research experience, you have the option of going directly to graduate school. (How to do that is a topic for another post.) While many excellent scientists have gone straight through, my personal recommendation is to take a year or three and getting some work experience. Enjoy not having homework and going out with your friends during the week. Being a bit older and more mature will help your sanity later on.

• Get a job in academic science. Many labs have research assistants – people who are paid to help in the field or in the lab. These jobs can be an amazing way to get experience, to meet people in your field, and to go awesome places. Unfortunately, they are usually funded off grants, which makes them ephemeral and badly paid. Some only pay room and board, particularly those in exotic locations. If you don’t have student loans and can stay on your parents’ health insurance (and you are a traditional student in your early 20s) – these can be a great option for grand science adventures. If you have student loans and/or are not on your parents’ health insurance and/or cannot just pick up and go to crazy locations, these may be very difficult for you to do. The best resource for finding these type of jobs that I know of is the ECOLOG-L listserv. Other paid options that people I know have done include working as fisheries observers or as educators at aquariums.

• Get a job that is not in academic science, but will give you useful experience anyway. When I graduated from college, I had to take a job that would not only pay me, but give me health insurance. While I found it frustrating at the time, it actually led to unexpected paths that have proved very valuable – for example, the construction job that taught me about managing a large project (and about rebar! I love rebar!). When I was interviewing for graduate school, my construction job made me stand out from the crowd. Just be prepared to explain how your nonstandard experiences will help you be successful in marine biology. However, this works best if you also have a strong science background from undergrad.

• Get a nonscience job and volunteer with scientists. Many labs and research expeditions take volunteers along. If you have a regular job but want to get into science, volunteering can be a great way to get your foot in the door. This works best if you have some time available during regular work hours, but some people take volunteers at night or on the weekends. If you have a really flexible schedule, it is possible to volunteer to work on an oceanographic vessel for the duration of a cruise (which can be anywhere from a few days to several weeks). The best way to find volunteer positions is to email people who you might be interested in working with – even if they are not accepting volunteers, they may know someone who is.

IN SUMMARY

To paraphrase Michael Pollan: “Basic science. Lots and lots. Mostly research.”

MORE RESOURCES

• Dr M’s excellent post So You Want to Be A Deep-Sea Biologist. [edit: added this link 13 Nov 21:00 PST]
• Danna Staaf on How to Become a Cephalopodiatrist. She focuses on cephalopods, but most of her advice holds true for all fields of marine biology. [link added 15 Nov 0800 PST]
• The indispensable Dr. Milton Love’s So You Want To Be A Marine Biologist and So You Want To Be A Marine Biologist: The Revenge
• Becoming A Marine Biologist from SUNY Stonybrook – also in Chinese! (PDF)
• Advice from former Scripps graduate student Greg Szulgit.
• Huge list of resources from Hopkins Marine Lab
• Christie Wilcox (now of Science Sushi) tells her story

The post So You Want to Be A Marine Biologist: Deep Sea News Edition first appeared on Deep Sea News.