I feel bad for the word
“biology.” The only time it gets noticed
is for a brief year in high school, which as we all know is not the ideal time
to have the spotlight turned on. Poor,
pimple-faced, awkward biology attempting to compete with the “cooler” activities,
like football, dance, and Facebook.
Biology doesn’t stand a chance, so instead it’s relegated to our dusty
bookshelves, all the while knowing that if we really got to know it, we just might like it.
So biology
begins to add some labels to itself, hoping that flashy words such as
“evolutionary,” “marine,” and “tropical” will help attract more of a
following. And it works, to the point
where many people are more interested in its label then the field it is meant
to qualify, biology itself. I’m
certainly guilty of this, introducing myself as a marine biology student before
any sort of clarification about how I’m more interested in population genetics
and invertebrates than what riding a dolphin would feel like.
Source You two make me sick |
Overlooking
the scientific aspect of marine biology can be dangerous, and is certainly
detrimental to its future. It’s why many
people believe that our work consists of tagging sharks and swimming with
whales, and it’s why they get frustrated when they’re first exposed to the
field and realize that’s not the case.
Truthfully, most of us spend 95% of our time in front of a computer,
monotonously analyzing samples, reading papers, and submitting proposals so
that, five years down the road, we can have the opportunity to monotonously
analyze new samples, and hopefully have someone read our papers.
This disconnect
is frustrating, because although the ocean is the greatest source of potential
biological discoveries, medical breakthroughs, and answers to our energy
crisis, it would be irrelevant if not for the scientific process. As marine biologists, we take this phenomenal
scientific method, the same one used by chemists and physicists, Hollywood
movie producers and international marketing teams, and apply it to our
respective fields. And this is what’s
responsible for some of the really cool stuff out there. Without it, we’d have no knowledge of the
immortal immortal jellyfish or the oil-eating bacteria, let alone the discovery of
ecosystems that think using the sun for energy is too mainstream, and are
perfectly productive in total darkness.
The truth is, once you spend enough time around science, you realize
it’s the title “biologist” that should turn heads and not just the qualifying
“marine biologist.” All science is
fascinating and relevant, whether it’s done in your backyard or 36,000 feet
below the ocean.
Source "In conclusion, when exposed to an unified vocal stimulus, Red Rover did indeed come over" |
I’ve wanted to start a marine-themed blog for a while, but until now haven’t been able to give it a purpose. While touching on a variety of topics, I’d like to provide insight into issues currently facing marine biology, conservation, and policy without watering down the science behind them. This is where the cool shit is, and hopefully I can sell you on it.
References:
1.
Hazen, T. C., Dubinsky, E. A.,
DeSantis, T. Z., Andersen, G. L., Piceno, Y. M., Singh, N., ... & Mason, O.
U. (2010). Deep-sea oil plume enriches indigenous oil-degrading bacteria. Science
330 (6001): 204-208.
2.
Piraino, S., Boero, F., Aeschbach, B.,
& Schmid, V. (1996). Reversing the life cycle: medusae transforming into
polyps and cell transdifferentiation in Turritopsis nutricula (Cnidaria,
Hydrozoa). Biological Bulletin 190
(3): 302-312.
3.
Lonsdale, P. (1977).
"Clustering of suspension-feeding macrobenthos near abyssal hydrothermal
vents at oceanic spreading centers". Deep Sea Research 24 (9): 857- 858
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