Ret Talbot Live

The Value We Place on Animals

We all have pet-peeves, right? One of mine is when people treat more expensive livestock with more care than they treat less expensive livestock.

I mean, I get it when you take better care of a first edition of the 1855 printing of Philip Henry Gosse’s A Handbook to the Marine Aquarium than a soft cover copy of The Conscientious Marine Aquarist (no offense, Mr. Fenner), but what about when it comes down to a $149 fish and a $1.49 snail? Granted the oblique-lined dottyback (Cypho purpurascens) may be more aesthetically alluring to many than a plain old turbo snail (Turbo fluctuosa), but both are amazing animals in their own right, are they not? And when it comes right down to which one provides a more useful function in the aquarium, ounce-for-ounce most aquarist would take the turbo snail over the oblique-lined any day.

I suppose you could make an argument based on sentience—the ability to feel or perceive subjectively—and argue that a snail doesn’t care as much as a fish when subjected to inhumane treatment, but do we really know that? And even if you think that’s true, have Dr. Ronald Shimek give you a lesson in the complexity of a snail’s circulatory system some day. I think you’ll agree that even the diminutive nerite snail (Nerite spp.) is nothing at which to scoff.

So why doesn’t the average hobbyist inquire about the husbandry requirements of each invertebrate included as part of a pre-packaged clean-up crew? Why do aquarists—even experienced ones—consistently place temperate or subtropical snails into tropical reef tanks? Why do I hear about people going to lengths to slowly drip acclimate expensive fishes when they simply dump new snails into their tank without a thought?

Even as a bibliophile, I don’t really care how well you take care of your books, but, as a fellow marine aquarist, I would like to encourage you to treat all of the animals in your aquarium with the same level of respect regardless of their dollar value.

I once did as Svein Fossa suggests and kept a live rock aquarium. That’s right—a marine aquarium with nothing added except substrate and a few pieces of quality live rock. I’ve seen some amazing tanks (and even kept a few) full of stunning and expensive animals, but I swear I was never as intrigued by an aquarium day-in and day-out as I was with that live rock tank. Every day, it seemed, something new emerged from the rock, and, over the course of several months, the tapestry of interconnected life that materialized was truly as awe-inspiring as my friend’s tank with a pair of resplendent angelfish (Centropyge resplendens)…

…okay…the resplendents were pretty cool too, actually, but you get my point.

Fish Fans? Aquarianists? – What Shall We Call Ourselves (Rhetorically-Speaking)

Main floor view of the New York Aquarium in 1919 when the word "aquarist" became proper.

I am currently in author review for a saltwater aquarium book scheduled for publication in December 2008. As such, I have the pleasure of working with an editorial team, as we manhandle the manuscript into shape in terms of style and stylistic consistency. As someone who holds an advanced degree in English, has taught many years of rhetoric, and has occasionally called himself an editor, I take a special interest in the careful choice of words. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no Hemingway, but given the beauty and complexity of language, I do feel compelled to try to “get it right” as often as possible. Admittedly, getting it right is not an easy task, but for me, attempting to get there is often as interesting as the end result. A case in point:

While doing research recently, I came across an article titled “Aquarium English” by Ida Mellen in the August 1928 issue of American Speech. American Speech, founded in 1925, is a publication of Duke University Press concerned with the English language in the Western Hemisphere. Mellen’s article, as the title suggests, deals with the intersection of the English language and our beloved aquarium hobby.

By all accounts, Ida Mellen was one of the most renowned aquarists of her time. She served as the Secretary of the New York Aquarium and, later, she was the Aquarium’s Chief Aquarist. She authored many books and articles about aquaria, including Fishes in the Home (1927, 1931), Young Folks’ Book of Fishes (1927) and the eminently popular 1001 Questions Answered About Your Aquarium (1935). Her articles include “The Fresh-water Shrimp” (New York Zoological Society Bulletin, 1919), “Effects of Captivity on a Sex Character” (Science, 1922), “Goldfish Mortality” (Pet Dealer, 1928), and “Tropical Toy Fishes” (National Geographic, 1931). And then, of course, there was this 1928 article in American Speech….

“With the coming of the public aquarium,” her article begins, “there was difficulty in deciding upon the correct title for a person expert in the care of fishes and other aquatic animals in captivity.”

Today we call ourselves hobbyists, reefers, fish-keepers, and a plethora of other names that are descriptive of our association with the aquarium. We also (Mellen would be glad to know) call ourselves “aquarists,” the word she promotes in her article as being the most proper descriptor for the “experts” in the hobby (fish fan, however, seems to be sufficient, in her opinion, for the mere hobbyist).

As Mellen begins to unravel the etymological entrails of the word “aquarist,” she settles on the premise that whatever the word used to describe “a person expert in the care of fishes and other aquatic animals in captivity,” it should have the antecedent “aqua.” But aqua-what, she wonders? Aquarianist (the term used in William E. Damon’s 1896 book Ocean Wonders? Aquarian (the name employed by Thomas Rymer Jones’ 1858 book The Aquarian Naturalist)? No, neither would do. The former word, despite (arguably) the first public aquarium in the United States being called an “Aquarial Hall,” did not, as Mellen tells us, “survive long enough to get into the dictionaries.” The latter word had the problem of being confused with a religious sect, whose third century members were called Aquarii (and they did not tend fishes).

Mellen goes on to anchor the origin of the term “aquarist” to her own institution—the New York Aquarium. “Many years ago at the New York Aquarium,” she writes, “the word aquarist was selected as being less awkward than aquariist, which was regarded as technically the better word.” Mellen continues, “The word, strange to say, is ignored by dictionary makers, but it is now commonly used throughout the United States, not only in public aquariums and by private individuals engaged in the rearing of tropical toy fishes—they also call themselves fish fans—but by the proprietors of pet shops and goldfish farms. It reached England long ago and superseded the word aquarian.”

So there you have it—the origin of the word “aquarist” according to Ida Mellen.

Rest assured that there are many other nuggets of linguistic goodness in Mellen’s article. For example, was she correct in saying “not only in public aquariums” as opposed to “not only in public aquaria”? She answers for that later in the article. And what of the many terms “fish fans” use amongst themselves—terms “known to all amateur and professional aquarists” like “mouth breeders,” “live bearers,” “tropicals,” “natives,” “pigmies,” “toy fishes,” “air breathers,” “labyrinth fishes,” “a tropical collection,” “salt water tropicals,” “fresh-water tropicals,” etc., etc., etc.?

And did you know that “[b]y some inexplicable anomaly, when the words fresh-water and salt water are used as compound adjectives, only the former is hyphenated”? That’s what Mellen says.

More to come on this front, but for now, Aquarists, I must return to author review.

Marine Algae and the Balanced Tropical Saltwater Aquarium

An 1853 advertisement from Notes and Queries: A Medium of Inter-communication for Literary Men, Artists, Antiquaries, Genealogists, Etc. prominently advertising "See-Weed" for sale

In my writings about marine aquaria, it is often the articles that reference algae which consistently receive the most attention. Why is this? I suspect it has something to do with many beginning marine aquarists’ frustration with algae in their once crystal clear, new aquaria. Algae are ubiquitous in the marine environment—have a close look on your next dive—but ubiquitous algae can quickly become an aesthetic nuisance in a captive system. In addition to detracting from the visual appeal of your aquarium, a rapid bloom of algae is perhaps the best indicator of something gone awry with your water parameters. It may, therefore, follow in some new aquarists’ minds that no algae is the goal, but in this aquarist’s mind, nothing could be further from the truth.

The goal should, in my opinion, always be a balanced system, although that phrase has been perverted and misused over time. What is a balanced system after all? Is it one in which the aquarist never has to intercede? Is it one in which the system’s health remains consistent so long as the aquarist takes on the role of providing some “regular maintenance” (e.g. water changes, supplement dosing, etc.)? Is it one in which a variety of species from different phyla, even kingdoms, live in harmony?

In answering this question, it is entertaining, if not instructive, to return to the beginnings of our hobby. While Anna Thynne gets props in my book for being the first marine aquarist capable of maintaining a “balanced system,” (1847) it is Philip Henry Gosse who gave the hobby the first in a long line of books promoting the balanced marine aquarium (A Handbook to the Marine Aquarium, 1856).

In general it is the marine animals that form the main source of interest, everything else being merely accessory to these. Many of the sea-plants, ‘weeds’ though they are called, are indeed very beautiful; the elegant forms of some, the delicate muslin-like tracery of others, the plumose lightness of more, ‘fine as silkworm's thread,’ and the beautiful play of colours, red and green, which a well-stocked Aquarium displays, as the light is transmitted through their pellucid substance, may claim for these objects more than an indirect attention. Still it is true, that, in most cases, they are preserved because they cannot be dispensed with.

Gosse was a writer of popular science who usually, as was popular at the time, sought to reconcile science with the Bible. He was also a marine aquarist who was instrumental in establishing what is generally considered to be the world’s first public aquaria (London). Gosse no doubt is the father of the hobby insofar as his books popularized it throughout the parlors of Victorian England. While at first plant matter may be only an accessory, he quickly points out that attempting to keep marine animals “alone in sea-water” will necessarily be a failed endeavor for lack of plants. The fish-only (my term, not his) aquarium, “speedily becomes offensively fetid,” Gosse writes. “[T]he creatures look sickly, and rapidly die off, and we are glad to throw away the whole mass of corruption.”

From Gosse’s standpoint, the “whole mass of corruption” is traced directly to the lack of “sea-weeds,” which, according to Gosse, “under the daily stimulus of sunlight…produce and throw off a vast quantity of oxygen, which, by the action of the waves and currents, is diffused through all parts of the habitable sea, and maintains the health of its countless swarms of animals.” Despite Gosse’s advice, the fish-only system prevailed and even flourished in the hobby up until quite recently. Today we understand that while dissolved oxygen in the water is essential, there are far more efficient means to achieve oxygenation besides marine plants. We also understand, however, that the presence of a diversity of life, including plant life, has other innumerable benefits to the marine aquarium, which may prove even more useful than the production of oxygen. Perhaps therein lies the key to the Victorian’s success with marine aquaria, for, based largely on the writings of Gosse, the planted marine aquarium was undoubtedly king. In short, Gosse’s ethic, to imitate the “chemistry of nature,” led to the profusion of the planted aquarium, which, in turn, led to healthy and aesthetically-pleasing marine aquaria.

“We collect the plants as well as the animals,” writes Gosse, “and, a little observation teaching us how to proportion the one to the other, we succeed in maintaining, on a small scale, the balance of animal and vegetable life.”

Plate II from Ocean Gardens. The History of he Marine Aquarium by H. Noel Humphreys, 1857

In some ways we have returned to Gosse’s dictum. Today’s aquarists, knowingly or not, succeed, more often than not, when they “succeed in maintaining, on a small scale, the balance of animal and vegetable life.” It is, for example, almost unthinkable to the experienced, twenty-first century hobbyist to maintain a fish-only system without the adjunct of live rock complete with its calcareous algae, but also a multitude of other algae as well. Bob Fenner, author of The Conscientious Marine Aquarist (recently updated and revised, mind you!), credits “the popularization of live rock” as the most important advance in the marine aquarium, and he points out that today’s marine aquarium literati—the likes of Mike Paletta, Eric Borneman and Charles Delbeek— “are giving [live rock] its due as a pre-eminent mechanism for promoting optimized and stable captive conditions.”

While we may endeavor to employ a balanced marine aquarium today for somewhat different reasons than Gosse instructed, his categorical statement—where he claims that balance is “the principle on which the Aquarium is founded”—remains largely true. Using live rock, with its veritable cornucopia of animal and plant life living on and in it, is a major step toward establishing and promoting a balanced aquarium. While the inclusion of this life is, as Gosse would say, “merely accessory” to the “main source of interest,” it is no doubt this diversity of life—especially the plant life—that accounts for many aquaria’s success.

So take steps to deal with nuisance algae through the judicious use of herbivorous fishes and invertebrates, but also take the time to give the green a little love.

Rhetoric, Science and Hobby

In my blog entry of 6 July 2008 titled “Coral Reef Aquaristics–More Than Just a Hobby?” I wrote something that struck a chord with some readers. To wit:

“Too often there is a latent distrust–even bordering on animosity—between many scientists and hobbyists.”

I was not trained as a scientist, but some of my best friends were, and a few of them took issue with my statement. Some said it was “exceedingly harsh," while others claimed it was “too polarizing” or “overly simplified.” At least one person said it was “simply untrue.”

Such are the pitfalls of rhetoric, and, yes, I am guilty of all of the above…well almost all.

While my statement certainly was intentionally harsh, polarizing and overly simplified (such is the rhetorical freedom of blogging, some might say), I don’t think it was “simply untrue.”

Consider the following.

In a recent conversation with an aquarium industry insider (admittedly not simply a hobbyist, but also most certainly not a scientist), we were discussing the merits and possible implications of a scientific study on herbivorous fishes (see my 19 June 2008 blog entry titled “Herbivores & Our Aquariums: Knowing What We Think We Know”) when he said the following about scientists:

“I think many…researchers are not in it to win it...but in it to skin it and move on with their careers. I think this helps us understand the culture of research people better, as even the very, very sincere ones follow their mentors, their schooling, their cultural dispositions, their world view—most of which is slanted way, way our [American/industrialized/Western] way…. I am just not too keen on the ‘get grants/publish or die motive’ that permeates so much of [the scientific research]. I think this conflict of interest hurts the promulgation of better science and keeps it less relevant to the people in the frontline fishing villages. I believe it promotes the better grant writers and not the better work.”

Then, in an interview with a marine scientist regarding the very same story on the very same day, we got to talking about how decisions in the marine aquarium industry ought to be made, and the scientist said the following about the industry insider:

“At some point these ‘industry people’ are going to need to move beyond emotion, anecdote and profits and look to the science as the motivating factor in decision making. There is a body of data available and much more being produced daily by trained researchers who have the credentials, knowledge and techniques at their disposal to produce solid, peer-reviewed papers and data. Too often this falls on deaf ears in the marine aquarium hobby. I’m not bashing experience in the industry or hobby as a factor in decision making, but the science is what’s verifiable, and it’s the only thing, more often than not, which moves beyond the politics.”

Distrust? Animosity? I think there is at least a smidgeon of both in each of these very thoughtful and heartfelt comments. Don’t you?

I’m not saying there is an unbridgeable divide—an abyss, if you will—between the hobby and the science. In fact, I am keenly aware that there are many, many hobbyists and scientists intent on creating a positive, fruitful space at the intersection of science and hobby; I speak with many of them daily.

As a hobbyist with a stake in the industry (what I write about the industry does pay my bills, after all), I believe that science and hobby are going to need to build stronger bonds—that’s why I write this blog. Sometimes I may err toward rhetorical hyperbole to try to make a point and get the conversation started, but if a conversation ensues, then we’re probably moving in the right direction.

Escapes, Lionfish and Having the Conversation

Perhaps only a marine aquarist would see the irony in an off-the-cuff reference to Atlantic lionfish in a section of The New York Times called “Escapes.”

The author writes in “A Journey Back in Maritime” (4 July 2008):

“The water [off the coast of North Carolina] is clear, warmed by the Gulf Stream and populated by tropical marine life against the operatic backdrop of the mammoth, ghostly shipwrecks. Unlike reef diving, wreck diving offers both natural splendor and human narrative—lionfish and octopus, rust and cannon.”

I suppose the writer either didn’t know or didn’t care that half of the natural splendor in question has no business being there in the first place. Nonetheless, the exotic lionfish has become an accepted part of the seascape, and it's even upped the ante when it comes to giving the Western Mid-Atlantic a tropical Indo-Pacific flourish. The hard reality, however, is that this isn’t a feel-good story, especially if you're a marine aquarist. While there may be no use crying over spilt milk, this story admittedly grabbed my interest because it appears as if the aquarium industry is to blame for this Atlantic lionfish invasion.

The lionfish in question (Pterois volitans) is a popular tropical aquarium fish indigenous to the Indo-Pacific. Hence, it is more than a little troubling to have reports of the exotic lionfish not only in the Atlantic, but as far north in the Atlantic as Long Island, New York.

Reports of lionfish in the Atlantic started to filter out of Florida in the early 90s. Several aquarium lionfish are known to have escaped into Biscayne Bay, Florida during Hurricane Andrew in 1992. At least anecdotally, aquarists have also intentionally released these non-native fish into Florida waters. But even taking into account these releases, nobody was prepared to find a healthy population of reproducing lionfish living in the Atlantic at the outset of the twenty-first century.

More than 150 lionfish were collected off North Carolina by marine scientists in the summer of 2004. No doubt the warm waters of the Gulf Stream were responsible for moving lionfish eggs and larvae north from the warmer Florida waters. This, in and of itself, was not cause for undue concern. Conventional wisdom suggests that tropical Indo-Pacific aquarium fishes don’t become invasive species in temperate Atlantic waters since most cannot survive the winter.

Dramatic increases in lionfish numbers from year to year over a wider and wider range, however, suggests this is one tropical aquarium fish that is not going away with the winter.

You see, at depth, the water remains warm enough year-round to support lionfish, and this has turned offshore North Carolina, Gulf Stream-influenced wrecks into great lionfish habitat. Now marine scientists are left scrambling to better understand how this Indo-Pacific tropical species so easily became established in the temperate Atlantic and what long term impacts this might have for the Western Atlantic ecosystem.

While the jury on those two questions is still out, the prognosis as to the latter one is not good. Given that the lionfish has no natural predators in the Western Atlantic, it is not unreasonable to assume that its numbers will grow, and this invasive fish could, in a short time, easily impact traditional Atlantic fisheries.

Given some of the other infamous invasive species spread as a direct result of the aquarium trade (need I say more than "Caulerpa"?), are we, as hobbyists and industry professionals alike, willing to accept fault and own this one too? It is possible, after all, that juvenile lionfish or larvae were unintentionally transported in the ballast water of ships originating in the Pacific. Isn't it? Unfortunately, there is no confirmation that this is the case with lionfish, and the logistical odds are stacked against it.

While it is known that the lionfish, along with several other Indo-Pacific species, have migrated into the Mediterranean (presumably via the Suez Canal), it is nearly inconceivable that any of those lionfish could have crossed the open waters of the Atlantic to set-up shop on American shores. It is equally unlikely that any lionfish could have made the trip under its own steam through the Panama Canal given that a significant portion of the canal is freshwater.

Yep…unfortunately it looks like the aquarium industry is to blame.

Having said that, what can (or should) be done about it? Should the conscientious aquarist be held accountable for the actions of an irresponsible few? And what of the accidental release of the lionfish individuals during Hurricane Andrew? That wasn't the fault of an irresponsible aquarist; it was an act of God, right? Do we need to accept the reality that when we elect to move species around the world in the support of hobby or science, incidental releases are a foregone conclusion?

I will not try to answer these questions here, but I do hope the casual reference to a lionfish in North Carolina by a novice recreational diver inspires us all to be having the conversation. I’ll leave you with the thoughts of Todd R. Gardner from his excellent 2006 article in Advanced Aquarist’s Online Magazine. 

“[A]quarium hobbyists need to be conscientious about all of the environmental and moral issues that our activities touch on.... For although we are a part of the global ecosystem and our actions may be no less natural than those of any other organisms, we bear the burden of having at least a partial understanding of our impacts on it. I believe that the positive effects of aquarium keeping, in terms of its educational value and the appreciation it fosters for aquatic life, far outweigh any negative impacts it may have on the environment, however there are some things we should keep in mind. One is that the introduction of non-indigenous species into new locales is widely considered to be second only to habitat destruction as a cause of extinction. Another is that there are people out there who would love to see our hobby shut down and if we refuse to ponder and discuss these issues, we will be ill prepared to defend ourselves. We owe it to ourselves as well as to the planet to be responsible aquarists.”

Please do have the conversation--our hobby may depend on it.

(For the record, The New York Times did report on the Atlantic lionfish in “A Spiny Invader Proliferates in L.I. Waters, and Scientists Wonder About Its Impact” on 8 September 2006)

Coral Reef Aquaristics–More Than Just a Hobby?

This morning I was re-reading portions of volume one of Fossa’s and Nilsen’s The Modern Coral Reef Aquarium (Birgit Schmettkamp Verlag 1996), and I once again found myself considering the closing section titled “Coral reef aquaristics – more than just a hobby.” Marine aquarists, Fossa and Nilsen argue in this section, are something more than “school boys or other childish persons.” Rather than a frivolous hobby, “aquaristics” is a gateway for scientific inquiry and environmentalism. I know these are the reasons I became serious about aquarium-keeping in the 1980s, and I know they remain my primary motivation for keeping aquaria today, but is this true for the hobby in general?

Being conversant in global climate change, the plight of tropical reefs and conservation was not a pre-requisite of the cocktail party circuit in the early- to mid-90s. Al Gore had barely invented the Internet, much the less raised the alarm regarding inconvenient truths. This was the context in which Fossa and Nilsen offered their book to an American audience and made their case for how marine aquaria could be a tool for change.

For example, Fossa and Nilsen quote Dr. Konrad Lorenz, an Austrian ethnologist, who says in 1980, “In a time in which most people’s thinking is becoming alienated from nature, it is encouraging to see an obvious steady increase in interest in marine animals and their care in saltwater aquariums.” Encouraging why? Because, Lorenz seems to imply, keeping marine animals in a home aquarium connects one to natural ecosystems and, by extension, engenders an appreciation and knowledge of those ecosystems and the animals which inhabit them.

Did it work? Did marine aquarium keeping play even a small role in the greening of America? Honestly I’m not sure, but it strikes me as interesting that some variation on the following statement is frequently bandied about today:

“In a time in which most people’s thinking is becoming more aligned with nature, it is discouraging to see an obvious steady increase in interest in marine animals and their care in saltwater aquariums.”

The Nay-Sayers, often environmentalists themselves, appear as adamant as ever that the hobby should be more intensely regulated or even shut down. Too often there is a latent distrust–even bordering on animosity—between many scientists and hobbyists. While the marine aquarium industry has grown significantly in recent years (current economic slowdown excluded), the green rhetoric is that the trade in marine animals damages the environment, mistreats the individual animals, and perverts our relationship with wild animals (e.g. the anthropomorphization of clownfish a la Nemo).

Why, after all, are there 150-million “pet fish” in the United States compared to 74.8-million pet dogs? Why do more than 600,000 homes in the United States today have a marine aquarium? Why was there a demand in the United States for the importation of in excess of three million marine ornamental fishes between 1997 and 2002? Are all these aquarists budding marine scientists? Will they all become passionate about tropical reef conservation?

Is this why you keep a marine aquarium?

Last week, John Tullock, in his The Aquarium Ecologist blog, said "I am inclined to think the influence of aquarists and aquarium keeping on the preservation of aquatic environments is positive and becoming ever more important." I tend to agree with him. "We have," Tullock writes, "quietly made the aquarium trade greener and greener, before 'Green' was trendy." This is undoubtedly true, not to mention the economic benefit the trade has brought to developing nations throughout the Indo-Pacific (a point that Fossa and Nilsen also make). But if we, as a hobby and an industry, are indeed so much greener, then why do so many from without not see us that way?

Dr. Lorenz postulated almost thirty years ago that “[b]oth the care of marine fish and their scientific observation under natural conditions induce sensitivity and biological intuition in the aquarium owner.” He goes on to say, as quoted by Fossa and Nilsen, “[a]quarium keeping and underwater observation are not ‘hobbies’ in the usual sense, but rather serious occupations which require full participation. Thus they are a ‘school’ of general enjoyment of life whose educational value cannot be treasured enough.”

Is this why you keep a marine aquarium?

Science to the Rescue? "Shipping Light"

There is a practice on the import and wholesale side of the marine aquarium industry called “shipping light” or “shipping small” which is currently getting some attention. As the name implies, this practice refers to packaging marine animals in a way that lightens the overall box weight to reduce shipping costs. This is accomplished by shipping the animals in significantly less water, which, according to proponents of the practice, is based on hard scientific data. Nonetheless, some in the industry (including many of the other wholesalers with whom I have spoken) have expressed concerns about the well-being of the animals, especially fish, shipped in this manner.

While it may appear crass to discuss the economics of all this, the economics are a reality, especially to wholesalers of marine ornamentals who sometimes feel more like a shipping company than anything else. With escalating air freight costs, reducing the weight of a shipment (either on the import side or when shipping to retailers) can save big bucks and increase profit for the wholesaler, but obviously there is a tipping point in all this. As mortality increases, the value of the package decreases, and so, from a strictly economic standpoint, the wholesaler’s Holy Grail is determining how much water is necessary to keep enough of the animals alive to make a profit.

According to one wholesaler that has been “shipping light” as its default shipping method over the past few months, the technique is based on a comprehensive scientific study coordinated by OSU and the Oregon Sea Grant Program. While my repeated attempts to obtain the study have been unsuccessful as of yet (and the wholesaler couldn’t recall the study’s exact name), it appears there may have been two such studies, and they may well be related. An abstract for a report entitled “Shipping-Related Mortality in Marine Ornamental Fish: Results of a Multi-Year Diagnostic Survey” was published in the program for Marine Ornamentals 2006 (Las Vegas, February 13-16, 2006). In addition, a study called “Modeling of shipping-related stress in marine ornamental fish (R/SAQ-09)" was funded through an Oregon Sea Grant (by way of NOAA) in conjunction with Oregon State University and may be ongoing.

From what little information I have gathered on both of these studies, it appears the stated goal is similar. To wit: “to provide reliable data upon which to improve best management practices related to holding, shipping and receiving procedures.” The value of such a report to the export, import and wholesale side of the industry would be invaluable it seems. As such, it strikes me as odd that no one in the industry appears to have first-hand knowledge of the findings of this report except for the wholesaler in question (and they are cautious about discussing it in too much detail due to “proprietary” concerns).

To be honest, all of this leaves me scratching my head a bit. While I’m trying not to be too naïve, I am truly befuddled. If there is a good scientific study out there that could help the industry ship in a manner that is better for the animals and more cost-effective, shouldn’t it be readily available to the industry? If, on the other hand, the data yields nothing of value, then should it really be the “science” upon which a questionable practice—“shipping light”—is based?

And, of course, economics aside, doesn’t the industry have a moral obligation to the animals in question? I mean we’re not talking about shipping Twinkies, after all.

Mangroves and the Tropical Reef Aquarium

I was talking to another aquarist the other day, and he was baffled by some marine aquarists’ use of mangroves in their tropical saltwater aquaria. I happen to love mangroves. I love them as a saltwater fly fisherman, as a sea kayaker and as an amateur naturalist. And, yes, I love them as a tropical marine aquarist. So, you might imagine, I was curious to understand his beef.

He said that he just didn’t get it. “I mean,” he explained, “I’ve never been diving on a tropical reef and then BANG! run into a mangrove tree. So why would you use them with a reef tank?” His issue seemed to be that reefs and mangroves do not appear adjacent to one another in the wild and, hence, there is no explicit connection between the two. Therefore, ergo, heretofore, he didn’t understand why some people insist on incorporating mangroves into their saltwater set-up. “It’s just pointless,” he concluded.

I beg to differ.

The reason I incorporate mangroves into my tropical reef tanks is because I am fascinated by the intricate interconnectedness of biotopes. A biotope—originating from the Greek and translating roughly as “life place”—is a physical space defined by a (usually) sessile species. The biotope is the biotope species’ life place, and interesting assemblages of other species develop countless relationships with the biotope species. One biotope connects to the next through these relationships and eventually habitats and ecosystems are formed.

Given this definition of biotope, we might refer to a mangrove root biotope defined by a red mangrove (Rhizophora mangle), a seagrass biotope defined by shoal grass (Halodule beaudettei) and a fringing reef back reef slope biotope defined by scroll coral (Turbinara reniformis). In many natural ecosystems, all three of these biotopes may exist within relative close proximity—an easy swim, for example—and all three are very much connected. In the home aquarium, these three biotopes can be represented in three separate tanks that all share the same system water.

By replicating the interconnectedness of these three biotopes in my tropical marine aquarium system, I am afforded an excellent opportunity to study and observe the complex relationships between these biotopes. Am I expecting the mangroves to be the solution to all my nutrient problems? No. Am I expecting my seagrass bed to completely stabilize my daily pH fluctuations? No. Am I expecting to better understand the species I keep and their relationships to one another? Absolutely. And I believe that doing so makes me a better aquarist and someone who is more aware of the importance of all three of these unique biotopes when it comes to conserving tropical reefs.

There is, in my opinion (and based on the data I have collected), a definite system benefit to incorporating mangroves into my aquarium set-up. But the benefits in terms of water quality, system stability and continuous live food production are all secondary to the educational value of being able to study a microcosm of an expansive interconnected wild ecosystem as extraordinary as a tropical reef.

That’s priceless.

Creating Ecosystems

Marine aquarists are pretty familiar with the concept of creating an ecosystem, but for most of the population of Orange County, California, it’s a bit of an alien concept. Nonetheless that’s exactly what a June 23rd article in the Orange County Register claimed that Southern California Edison (yes, the power company) is doing just off the coast of San Clemente (“Edison aids kelp forest growth to offset plant impacts”).

"The goal here has always been not only to grow kelp, but to create an ecosystem," said Patrick Tennant, a Southern California Edison biologist referring to the creation of a $40 million artificial reef project. The reef is “compensation” for anticipated environmental damage resulting from the Edison-operated San Onofre nuclear power plant.

A report in the late 1980s showed that the plant’s discharge was blocking sunlight from approximately 180 acres of natural kelp bed, and that’s when discussions began about mitigating some of the marine damage caused by the plant. The San Onofre nuclear plant has been called "the most destructive marine industrial facility ever built.” In addition to kelp mortality, the plant is also responsible for the death of an estimated 600 tons of fish each year.

In total, the artificial reef will be a 2.5-mile, 150-acre artificial reef made of more than 100,000 tons of stone quarried from nearby Catalina Island. The rock is delivered via barge and bulldozer six days a week from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m., with an anticipated finish date of October 2008. Marine scientists hope to see a healthy kelp forest growing from the reef as soon as next summer.

The concept of paying environmental penance is as foreign to some as the concept of creating an ecosystem is to others. There are those who would be quick to point out that it would be far easier not to destroy the original ecosystem than to create a completely new one. But most Southern Californians view our tremendous thirst for both power (about 1.5 million households get their power from San Onofre) and water as necessary evils, and so environmental mitigation becomes the next best thing.

While the artificial reef is a good starting point applauded by environmentalists and marine scientists alike, some are concerned that it’s not quite enough. Mark Massara, the statewide director of the Sierra Club's coastal programs is one such person. “This reef is really just the tip of the iceberg in terms of trying to restore the marine resources that this plant had destroyed,” Massara said in a recent interview with the San Francisco Chronicle (“Artificial reef to reverse damage by San Onofre Kelp bed designed to rebuild habitat hurt by nuke plant”). “My only regret is that they're not doing a lot more.”

Marine Aquarium Keeping with a Cold Chisel

“A geologist's hammer with a cutting edge, as well as a striking face, is the most useful; and the chisel must not be such as carpenters use, but one made wholly of iron, tipped with steel, such as is used by smiths, and technically called a cold chisel.” — Philip Henry Gosse instructing marine aquarists on collection techniques in his seminal A Handbook to the Marine Aquarium, published in 1855.

As a marine aquarist who lives within walking distance of the Pacific Ocean in Southern California, I spend a lot of time observing nature’s aquaria—our local tidepools.

Aquarists have always been drawn to the intertidal zone. In fact, a complete chapter is dedicated to collection from the intertidal zone in the first ever book written for the marine aquarist in 1855. Of course back then aquarists did not have a local fish store or an online retailer of marine ornamentals from which to buy their livestock, so they simply procured it themselves by chiseling or prying it from the bountiful tidepools that adorned their Victorian shores.

Walking my own local intertidal zone in 2008 with a cold chisel in hand is, most definitely, not in vogue. Using that chisel to extract marine life from the rocky walls of tidepools may, actually, now be illegal, as those tidepools are part of the Laguna Beach State Marine Conservation Area.

The Laguna Beach State Marine Conservation Area is a type C marine protected area (MPA), and, as such, “it is unlawful to injure, damage, take or posses any specified living, geological or cultural marine resources for certain commercial, recreational, or a combination of commercial and recreational purposes.” Collection of organisms is only permitted if you have a Scientific Collecting Permit (SCP) from the California Department of Fish and Game and permission from the MPA manager.

Generally speaking, MPAs are a good thing, as there is little doubt, that our tidepools were being “loved to death” by the groping hands of many well-intentioned (and some not-so-well-intentioned) tidepool visitors. But MPAs also do have their downsides.

Depending on the specific regulations for the area, MPAs can be designated as complete no-take zones which preclude activities such as collecting for aquarium use and fishing. While, on the one hand, this removes a great deal of pressure on the species living within the MPA, it also potentially removes some of the most important and knowledgeable visitors—fishermen and marine ornamental collectors.

While there are exceptions, it is often these visitors who understand the ecosystem best and who have the most vested interest in seeing it managed in a sustainable fashion. In the truest sense of the word, these people are ecologists, and they are on the frontline of conservation, often being the first to raise the alarm when something changes or goes wrong in the ecosystem. In a state where massive budget shortfalls often preclude state-supported scientists from monitoring MPAs, can we really afford to not have these amateur natural scientists present?

When we gather at the Huntington Beach Harbor View Club House for a workshop kicking off the Marine Life Protection Act’s (MLPA) South Coast Study Region this coming July, I will not be advocating that marine collectors with chisels should be permitted in the Laguna Beach State Marine Conservation Area. Times have changed since Philip Henry Gosse enlisted the help of “a man with a crowbar, to turn over the stones, as on their under surface, and beneath their shadow, valuable specimens are often found.”

We have come to appreciate the hard way that our shores are not an unlimited resource, and protection is essential if we are to preserve these areas for their own intrinsic value and for the next generation of admirers...

...even the anglers and aquarists.