Coral can recover (occasionally)

Coral reefs have amazing species diversity, which depends, in part, on a mutualism between the coral animal and a group of symbiotic algae that live inside the coral. The algae provide the coral host with approximately 90% of the energy it needs (from photosynthetic product).  In return, the algae are rewarded with a place to live and a generous allotment of nitrogen (mostly fecal matter) from the coral.  Unfortunately, coral are under attack from a variety of sources. Most problematic, humans are releasing massive amounts of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, which is increasing ocean temperatures and also making the ocean more acidic.  Both processes can kill coral by causing coral to eject their symbiotic algae, making it impossible for the coral to get enough nutrients.

Moorea Coral Reef LTER site

The coral reef at Mo’orea. Credit: Moorea Coral Reef LTER site.

But other factors threaten coral ecosystems as well. For example, the reefs of Mo’orea , French Polynesia (pictured above), were attacked by the voracious seastar, Acanthaster planci, between 2006-2010, which reduced the coral cover (the % of the ocean floor that is covered with coral when viewed from above) from 45.8% in 2006 to 6.4% in 2009.  Then, in Feb 2010, Cyclone Oli hit, and by April, mean coral cover had plummeted down to 0.4%.

Moorea swimmers

Researchers survey the reef at Mo’orea. Credit: Peter Edmunds.

Peter Edmunds has been studying the coral reef ecosystem at Mo’orea for 14 years, and has observed firsthand the sequence of reef death, and the subsequent recovery.  Working with Hannah Nelson and Lorenzo Bramanti, he wanted to document the recovery process, and to identify the underlying mechanisms.  Fortunately Mo’orea is a Long Term Ecological Research (LTER) site, one of 28 such sites funded by the United States National Science Foundation.  Consequently the researchers had long term data available to them, so they could document how coral abundance had changed since 2005.  Their analysis showed the decline in coral cover from 2007 to 2010, but a remarkable rapid recovery beginning in 2012 and continuing through 2017.

EdmundsFig1

% cover (+ SE) of all coral , Pocillopora coral (the species group that the research team focused on). and macroalgae at Mo’orea over a 13 year period based on LTER data. The horizontal bar with COTs above it represents the time period of maximum seastar predation.

What factors caused this sharp recovery? One general process that could be part of the answer is density dependence, whereby populations have high growth rates when densities are low and there is very little competition, and low growth rates when densities are high and there is a great deal of competition between individuals, or in this case, between colonies. The problem is that though density dependence makes intuitive sense, it is difficult to demonstrate, as other factors could underlie the coral recovery.  Perhaps after 2011 there was more food available, or fewer predators, or maybe the weather was better for coral growth.

EdmundsQuadrats

High density (top) and low density (bottom) quadrats of Pocillopora coral established by the research group.

To more convincingly test for density dependence, Edmunds and his colleagues set up an experiment, establishing 18 1m2 quadrats in April, 2016. The researchers reduced coral cover in nine quadrats to 19.1% by removing seven or eight colonies from each experimental quadrat (low density quadrats), and left the other nine quadrats as unmanipulated controls, with coral cover averaging 32.5% (high density quadrats).  They then asked if, over the course of the next year, more recruits (new colonies < 4cm diameter) became established in the low density quadrats.

Returning in 2017, the researchers discovered substantially greater recruitment in the low density quadrats than in the high density quadrats. This experiment provides strong evidence that the rapid recovery after devastation by seastars and Cyclone Oli was helped by a density dependent response of the coral population – high recruitment at low population density.

EdmundsFig3

Density of recruits just after (left), and one year after (right) the quadrats were established. Solid bars are means (+ SE) for high density quadrats, while clear bars are means (+ SE) for low density quadrats.

In recent years, many coral reef systems around the world have experienced declining coral cover, a loss of fish and invertebrate diversity and abundance, and an increase in abundance of macroalgae.  While many of these reefs continue to decline, others, such as the reefs at the Mo’orea LTER site, are more resilient, and are able to recover from disturbance.  The researchers argue that we need to fully understand the mechanisms underlying recovery – in other words what is causing the density dependent response? Is it simply competition between coral that cause high recruitment under low density, or may interactions between coral and algae be important?  And what types of interactions influence recruitment rates under different densities?  One possibility is that at high densities, coral are eating most of the tiny coral larvae as they descend from the surface after a mass spawning event.  This raises the important question of why many reefs around the world do not show this density dependent response.  Clearly there is much work remaining to be done if we want to preserve this critically endangered marine biome.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Ecology. The reference is Edmunds, P. J., Nelson, H. R. and Bramanti, L. (2018), Density‐dependence mediates coral assemblage structure. Ecology, 99: 2605-2613. doi:10.1002/ecy.2511. Thanks to the Ecological Society of America for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Ecological Society of America. All rights reserved.

Rice fields foster biodiversity

Restoration ecologists want to restore ecosystems that have been damaged or destroyed by human activity.  One approach they use is “rewilding” – which can mean different things to different people.  To some, rewilding involves returning large predators to an ecosystem, thereby reestablishing important ecological linkages.  To others, rewilding requires corridors that link different wild areas, so animals can migrate from one area to another.  One common thread in most concepts of rewilding is that once established, restored ecosystems should be self-sustaining, so that if ecosystems are left to their own devices, ecological linkages and biological diversity can return to pre-human-intervention levels, and remain at those levels in the future.

ardea intermedia (intermediate egret). photo by n. katayama

The intermediate egrit, Ardea intermedia, plucks a fish from a flooded rice field. Credit: N. Katayama.

Chieko Koshida and Naoki Katayama argue that rewilding may not always increase biological diversity.  In some cases, allowing ecosystems to return to their pre-human-intervention state can actually cause biological diversity to decline. Koshida and Katayama were surveying bird diversity in abandoned rice fields, and noticed that bird species distributions were different in long-abandoned rice fields in comparison to still-functioning rice fields.  To follow up on their observations, they surveyed the literature, and found 172 studies that addressed how rice field abandonment in Japan affected species richness (number of species) or abundance.  For the meta-analysis we will be discussing today, an eligible study needed to compare richness and/or abundance for at least two of three management states: (1) cultivated (tilled, flood irrigated, rice planted, and harvested every year), (2) fallow (tilled or mowed once every 1-3 years), and (3) long-abandoned (unmanaged for at least three years).

koshidafig1

Three different rice field management states – cultivated, fallow and long-abandoned – showing differences in vegetation and water conditions. Credit: C. Koshida.

Meta-analyses are always challenging, because the data are collected by many researchers, and for a variety of purposes.  For example, some researchers may only be interested in whether invasive species were present, or they may not be interested in how many individuals of a particular species were present. Ultimately 35 studies met Koshida and Katayama’s criteria for their meta-analysis (29 in Japanese and six in English).

Overall, abandoning or fallowing rice fields decreased species richness or abundance to 72% of the value of cultivated rice fields. As you might suspect, these effects were not uniform for different variables or comparisons. Not surprisingly, fish and amphibians declined sharply in abandoned rice fields – much more than other groups of organisms. Abundance declined more sharply in abandoned fields than did species richness.  Several other trends also emerged.  For example, complex landscapes such as yatsuda (forested valleys) and tanada (hilly terraces) were more affected than were simple landscapes.  In addition, wetter abandoned fields were able to maintain biological diversity, while dryer abandoned fields declined in richness and abundance.

koshidafig2

The effects of rice field abandonment or fallowing for eight different variables.  Effect size is the ln (Mt/Mc), where Mt = mean species richness or abundance for the treatment, and Mc = mean species richness for the control.  The treated field in all comparisons was the one that was abandoned for the longer time.  A positive effect size means that species richness or abundance  increased in the treated (longer abandoned) field, while a negative effect size means that species richness or abundance declined in the treated field. Numbers in parentheses are number of data sets used for comparisons.

When numerous variables are considered, researchers need to figure out which are most important.  Koshida and Katayama used a statistical approach known as “random forest” to model the impact of different variables on the reduction in biological diversity following abandonment.  This approach generates a variable – the percentage increase in mean square error (%increaseMSE) – which indicates the importance of each variable for the model (we won’t go into how this is done!).  As the graph below shows, soil moisture was the most important variable, which tells us (along with the previous figure above) that abandoned fields that maintained high moisture levels also kept their biological diversity, while those that dried out lost out considerably.  Management state was the second most important variable, as long-abandoned fields lost considerably more biological diversity than did fallow fields.

koshidafig4

Importance estimates of each variable (as measured by %increase MSE).  Higher values indicate greater importance.

Unfortunately, only three studies had data on changes in biological diversity over the long-term.  All three of these studies surveyed plant species richness over a 6 – 15 year period, so Koshida and Katayama combined them to explore whether plant species richness recovers following long-term rice field abandonment. Based on these studies, species richness continues to decline over the entire time period.

koshidafig6

Plant species richness in relation to time since rice fields were abandoned (based on three studies).

Koshida and Katayama conclude that left to their own devices, some ecosystems, like rice fields, will actually decrease, rather than increase, in biological diversity.  Rice fields are, however, special cases, because they provide alternatives to natural wetlands for many organisms dependent on aquatic/wetland environments (such as the frog below). In this sense, rice fields should be viewed as ecological refuges for these groups of organisms.

rana-porosa-porosa-tokyo-daruma-pond-frog.-photo-by-y.g.-baba.jpg

Rana porosa porosa (Tokyo Daruma Pond Frog). Credit: Y. G. Baba

These findings also have important management implications.  For example, conservation ecologists can promote biological diversity in abandoned rice fields by mowing and flooding. In addition, managers should pay particular attention to abandoned rice fields with complex structure, as they are particularly good reservoirs of biological diversity, and are likely to lose species if allowed to dry out. Failure to attend to these issues could lead to local extinctions of specialist wetland species and of terrestrial species that live in grasslands surrounding rice fields. Lastly, restoration ecologists working on other types of ecosystems need to carefully consider the effects on biological diversity of allowing those ecosystems to return to their natural state without any human intervention.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Conservation Biology. The reference is Koshida, C. and Katayama, N. (2018), Meta‐analysis of the effects of rice‐field abandonment on biodiversity in Japan. Conservation Biology, 32: 1392-1402. doi:10.1111/cobi.13156. Thanks to the Society for Conservation Biology for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Society for Conservation Biology. All rights reserved.

Climate changes a bird’s life in shrinking grasslands

Back in graduate school, a couple of my grad student buddies and I would get together to fish for brown trout in the Kinnickinnic River in western Wisconsin.  We were students at the University of Minnesota (Twin Cities), but the Kinni was the closest trout stream.  Tired of catching small brown trout, we consulted a trout fishing map and discovered that the headwaters of the Kinni were rich in brook trout. So early one morning, map in hand, we followed strange paths and found our sacred brook trout haven. Alas, the only thing it was rich in was corn, now about two feet high – though there was a modest depression where trout waters once had flowed. Our personal depression was perhaps more than modest – having been robbed of brook trout, and the opportunity to experience some pristine waters flowing through a beautiful grassland.

Grasslands, one of the biomes native to parts of Wisconsin and Minnesota, are globally one of the most endangered biomes, because they usually are relatively easy to convert into farmland and suburban developments. Native grasslands harbor a wide biological diversity; consequently conservation biologists are concerned about their continued loss.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Cool-season grassland in southwest Wisconsin. Credit: John Dadisman.

Ben Zuckerberg, Christine Ribic and Lisa McCauley wanted to know how environmental factors influenced the nesting success of grassland birds, in particular, because as obligate ground nesters, they might be susceptible to changing  weather conditions that will be affecting the climate in coming decades.  A nest built on the ground is much less insulated from the environment than one built in or on a tree or even a ledge.

Bobolink 7 days (Carolyn Byers)

Seven day old bobolink chicks in a ground nest. Credit: Carolyn Byers.

Zuckerberg and his colleagues used Google Scholar and the ISI Web of Science to comb the literature (1982-2015) for studies that explored the nest success of obligate grassland birds in the United States. They identified 12 bird species from 81 individual studies of 21,000 nests. Based on their experience and the literature, both precipitation and temperature were likely to influence nest success, which is the proportion of nests that fledge at least one young. They considered three precipitation time periods: (1) Bioyear – previous July through April of the breeding season, (2) May of the breeding season, (3) June – August of the breeding season. They considered breeding season temperatures during May, and during the period from June-August. The researchers were also interested in the size of the grassland (grassland patch size), reasoning that a larger grassland might provide more diverse microclimates, so, for example, a bird might be able to find a dry microhabitat for nesting in a large grassland, even in a wet breeding season.

ZuckFig1

Map of the identity and location of species considered for this study.

The researchers discovered that both temperature and precipitation were important.  Nest success increased steadily with bioyear precipitation (Figure (a) below).  Presumably, more rain led to more plant growth and more insect survival, which would help feed the young.  Taller plants could also help shade or hide the nests. In contrast, nest success declined sharply with precipitation during spring and summer of the breeding season (Figure (b) and (c)). Heavy rains during the breeding season can flood nests, and also decrease the foraging efficiency of parents who might need to spend more time incubating nests during rainstorms. Lastly, extreme (low or high) May temperatures depressed nest success, which was highest at intermediate temperatures (Figure (d)). Egg viability depends on maintaining a constant temperature, and the parents may be more challenged to thermoregulate at extreme temperatures.  Temperatures later in the breeding season did not affect nest success.

ZuckFig2

Effects of (a) bioyear precipitation (previous July – April of the breeding season), (b) May precipitation during the breeding season, (c) June – August precipitation during the breeding season, and (d) May temperature on nest success. Shaded area represents 95% confidence interval.

But all is not straightforward in the grassland nest success world. These main findings about precipitation and temperature interacted with grassland size in interesting ways.  For example high bioyear precipitation, which overall increased nest success, only did so for smaller grassland patches (dashed line in top graph below), but not for larger patches (solid line).  Extreme May temperatures had different effects on nest success in relation to grassland patch size.  Low May temperatures were associated with high nest success in small patches (dashed line in bottom graph) and with low nest success in large patches (solid line).  High May temperatures were associated with high nest success in large patches, and with low nest success in small patches.

ZuckFig3

Predicted nest success of grassland birds in relation to bioyear precipitation (top graph) and May temperature (bottom graph) in relation to grassland patch size.  Solid lines represent large grasslands, while dashed lines represent small grasslands.  Shaded area is 95% confidence interval.

The researchers were surprised to discover that patch size affected how weather influenced grassland bird nesting success. Some of the patterns seem intuitively logical; for example, in unusually hot breeding seasons birds had higher nest success in larger grasslands than in smaller grasslands.  Presumably, birds were more likely to find a cooler microclimate for their nests in a large grassland.  However it is puzzling why in unusually cold breeding seasons birds had higher nest success in smaller grasslands. The researchers are planning a follow-up study to better document and measure the existence of microclimates in grasslands of different sizes, and explore how different microclimates influence the nesting success of vulnerable grassland birds.  Finding that warmer temperatures and drought generally reduce nest success to the greatest extent in small grassland patches is strong incentive for conservation mangers to establish large core grasslands as a tool to maintain bird populations in the wake of present and future changes to the climate.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Conservation Biology. The reference is Zuckerberg, B. , Ribic, C. A. and McCauley, L. A. (2018), Effects of temperature and precipitation on grassland bird nesting success as mediated by patch size. Conservation Biology, 32: 872-882. doi:10.1111/cobi.13089. Thanks to the Society for Conservation Biology for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Society for Conservation Biology. All rights reserved.

 

Recruiting rhinoceros

Despite their immense size and unfriendly disposition, we humans have done an excellent job decimating the black rhinoceros (Diceros bicornis) population from several hundred thousand individuals around 1900 to fewer than 3000 individuals by 1990. Three subspecies are extinct, one is on the brink, while even the most successful remaining subspecies, the south-central black rhinoceros, is extinct over much of its former range, or only found in nature reserves.  Humans prize its horns, which historically were used for making wine cups, ceremonial daggers, and a variety of medicines that purportedly revive comatose patients, detoxify infections, and aid male sexual stamina. Trade of rhinoceros horn has been illegal since 1977, but poaching abounds.

rhinohornprodblog

Rhinoceros horn products seized by the Hong Kong Government. Credit: U.S. Government Accountability Office from Washington, DC, United States [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

This population crisis has motivated conservation ecologists to evaluate the best approaches to conserving the black rhinoceros, and to restoring it to parts of its former range. Translocation, moving rhinoceroses from one location where they are relatively well-established, to another where they are extinct or at very low numbers, is a viable approach to restoring populations. However, translocation did not always work well, as some rhinoceroses died following translocation, or failed to reproduce even if they survived translocation. While a post-doctoral researcher at the Zoological Society in San Diego, California, Wayne Linklater recognized that there were large datasets collected by government and non-government agencies that might answer the question about what drives better rhinoceros survival and breeding.  Unfortunately some of these datasets were difficult to access or interpret, but Jay Gedir, Linklater and several other colleagues persevered and combed through the data to identify the factors associated with successful translocation.

Dales photos Oct04 006

Black rhino is airlifted to temporary captivity before being translocated to a release site. Credit: Andrew Stringer

Many translocation studies use a short-term measure of success, such as survival or fecundity (fertility) of the translocated individuals.  The researchers reasoned that the most important measure, when it is available, is the number of offspring produced by translocated females that survive to an age that they too can reproduce, which in the case of rhinoceros is four years. Based on existing long-term studies, Gedir, Linklater and their colleagues compiled the offspring recruitment rate (ORR), which combines the variables of survival, fecundity, and offspring survival to sexual maturity. They found that ORR was greatest when mature females were translocated into a population that had a female-biased sex ratio.

conbiofig1

Offspring recruitment rate (per year) in relation to age at release and sex ratio bias of the recipient population. Female bias is greater than 60% female, male bias is greater than 60% male. Numbers above graph are sample size for each category. Error bars are 95% confidence intervals.

So why does sex-ratio matter?  The researchers are not certain, but females are subjected to considerable sexual harassment by very aggressive males, so a female-biased sex ratio may lead to less harassment and improved survival and reproductive success for translocated females.

Translocated juveniles took longer to produce their first calf after reaching sexual maturity than did adults after being released. Again this effect was stronger with a male-biased sex ratio.

conbiofig2a

Mean time (years) to produce their first calf after reaching sexual maturity for juveniles, or after release for adults.

Many females (47%) produced no surviving offspring. This pattern of recruitment failure was most common in juveniles, and least common in adults translocated into populations with a female-biased sex ratio.

conbiofig2b

Recruitment failure of translocated females in relation to age at release and sex ratio bias of the recipient population.

Several factors can cause recruitment failure: 23% of females died following translocation and 24% of surviving females never produced calves. However, calf survival to sexual maturity was a robust 89%, and this survival rate was independent of age at translocation or population sex ratio. Among surviving translocated females, juveniles were about twice as likely as young or old adults to fail to produce a calf, but were equally successful at raising the calves they were able to produce.

Linklater was surprised at how important sex ratios (and presumably social relationships) were, particularly given that black rhinoceroses spend much of their time alone or with one offspring.

Neto and Gwala size each other up

Neto (the ranger) and Gwala (the rhino) size each other up.  Credit: Wayne Linklater.

The study did not support a major role for many other factors that had previously been considered important in translocation success, such as habitat quality, population density, number of rhinoceroses released and reserve size. Based on their analysis, the researchers recommend that conservation biologists should translocate mature females into populations with female-biased sex ratios to reduce rates of recruitment failure.  If juveniles must be translocated, they too should be moved into populations that already have a female-biased sex ratio to reduce levels of sexual harassment by males after they mature.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Conservation Biology. The reference is Gedir, J. V., Law, P. R., du Preez, P., & Linklater, W. L. (2018). Effects of age and sex ratios on offspring recruitment rates in translocated black rhinoceros. Conservation Biology32(3), 628-637. Thanks to the Society for Conservation Biology for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Society for Conservation Biology. All rights reserved.

Finding fish fluorescently

Very early in my teaching career at Carleton College in Minnesota, I was thrust into the position of teaching students about things that I knew very little about.  I quickly learned that things went well, so long as I confessed my ignorance – the very bright students at that college were always happy to help me with my education. My ignorance of things biological stemmed from my undergraduate training in psychology, which had only a smattering of biology and chemistry in the coursework.  So when we extracted chlorophyll from a plant, shone a bright high-energy (probably UV) light on it, and it glowed a beautiful red, my reaction was “wooo…, that’s cool.”  My colleague, who was much more broadly trained, explained that this process, biofluorescence, occurred because the chlorophyll’s electrons were excited by the high energy light, and that they emitted the red light when they returned to a lower-energy state.

Marteenfig1Solenostomus cyanopterus

Robust ghost pipefish, Solenostomus cyanopterus, is cryptic in ambient daylight (left), but biofluoresces red when lit at night by a high-intensity LED torch (right).

 

Many threatened or endangered marine species are cryptic, providing challenges to conservation biologists who must assess the abundance of these species.  Usually, marine biologists use underwater visual censuses to measure abundance and distribution of marine species, but small or cryptic species are often missed or undercounted.  Maarten de Brauwer reasoned that conservation biologists could use biofluorescence as a tool to find small or cryptic marine organisms.  He knew from a paper that recently came out in the literature, and from his own experience as a diver, that a number of cryptic species do fluoresce. But how large is that number?

marteenfig2

A diver searches for biofluorescent species. Credit: J. A. Hobbs

DeBrauer, working with five other researchers, surveyed reef fish at four locations in Indonesia, as well as two locations outside Indonesia (Christmas Island and the Cocos Islands).  Indonesia was a conservation priority as it contains the world’s greatest abundance of marine fish species. Using high-energy LED torches, the researchers surveyed 31 sites at the six locations, assessing each fish they detected for whether it was cryptic or non-cryptic, and whether it fluoresced. Of 95 cryptic species, 83 fluoresced.  In contrast, only 12 of 135 non-cryptic species fluoresced.

MarteenEcolFig1

Number of cryptic and non-cryptic species showing biofluorescence in the survey.

Why are cryptic species more likely to biofluoresce?  As it turns out, we don’t know the answer to this question.  De Brauwer suggests that some small species, like gobies and triplefins, may use flourescence, which is particularly well-defined around the head region, as a way of communicating without predator detection.  These species fluoresce in red, a very-short-range light, so predators won’t see them unless they are very close. Some species of scorpionfish that live in algae and seagrass also fluoresce red, which allows them to blend in well with the red fluorescence emitted by the algal and seagrass chlorophyll.

Having shown that cryptic species tend to bioflouresce, the next challenge was to see whether bioflourescence surveys worked better than standard underwater visual censuses. First, the researchers focused their efforts on two species of pygmy seahorses (Hippocanpus bargibanti and H. denise) that live on seafans, searching for two minutes, either with or without a flourescence torch.  They followed with a similar study on two species of reef fish, the largemouth triplefin (Ucla xenogrammus) and the highfin triplefin (Enneapterygius tutuilae); but this time surveying 20m x 2m transects, either with or without a fluorescence torch.

marteenfig3.jpg

A diver searches a seafan for pygmy seahorses. Credit: J. A. Hobbs.

Unfortunately, the pygmy seahorses are tiny (as you might suspect from their name) and probably rare, so only 32 H. bargibanti and 7 H. denise were detected. These seahorses fluoresce red primarily in their tail region and green from their eyes.

MarteenEcolFig3

Two cryptic pygmy seahorses “seen” under ambient light (left, circled in red) and in the underwater biofluorescence census (right).

The numbers of H. denise were too small to include in the analysis. But for the other three species, the bioflourescence surveys detected more individuals than did the underwater visual surveys.

MarteenEcolFig4

Mean number of individual H. bargibanti (left), U. xenogrammus (center) and E. tutuilae (right) detected with underwater visual surveys (UVC) vs. underwater biofluorescence surveys (UBC).

The researchers discovered that bioflourescence is very common in these cryptic and rare species, which means this technique can be used to assess abundance in species most likely to be overlooked using standard underwater visual surveys. The International Union for the Conservation of Nature, which (among other tasks) is responsible for assessing the extinction risk of species worldwide, has only been able to do so for less than 44% of fish belonging to three large cryptic families of reef fish.  Of 2000 species in these three families, 21% are listed as data-deficient because they have been so difficult to survey.  This novel approach should help inform conservation biologists about species that are in dire straits, so they can focus conservation efforts in a productive and useful direction.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Conservation Biology. The reference is Brauwer, M., Hobbs, J. A., Ambo‐Rappe, R., Jompa, J., Harvey, E. S. and McIlwain, J. L. (2018), Biofluorescence as a survey tool for cryptic marine species. Conservation Biology, 32: 706-715. doi:10.1111/cobi.13033. You should also check out Dr. De Brauwer’s blog at crittersresearch.com. Thanks to the Society for Conservation Biology for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Society for Conservation Biology. All rights reserved.

Indirect effects of the lionfish invasion

I’m old enough to remember when ecological studies of invasive species were uncommon.  Early on, there was a debate within the ecological community whether they should be called “invasive” (which conveyed to some people an aggressive image akin to a military invasion) or more dispassionately “exotic” or “introduced.” Lionfish (Pterois volitans), however, fit this more aggressive moniker. Native to the south Pacific and Indian Oceans, lionfish were first sighted in south Florida in 1985, and became established along the east Atlantic coast and Caribbean Islands by the early 2000s. They are active and voracious predators, consuming over 50 different species of prey in their newly-adopted habitat. Many population ecologists study the direct consumptive effects of invasive species such as lionfish.  In some cases they find that an invasive species may deplete its prey population to very low levels, and even drive it to extinction.

Lionfish

A lionfish swims in a reef. Credit: Tye Kindinger

But things are not always that simple. Tye Kindinger realized that lionfish (or any predator that feeds on more than one species) could influence prey populations in several different ways.  For the present study, Kindinger considered two different prey species – the fairy basslet (Gramma loreto) and the blackcap basslet (Gramma melacara). Both species feed primarily on zooplankton, with larger individuals monopolizing prime feeding locations at the front of reef ledges, while smaller individuals are forced to feed at the back of ledges where plankton are less abundant, and predators are more common.  Thus there is intense competition both within and between these two species for food and habitat. Kindinger reasoned that if lionfish depleted one of these competing species more than the other, they could be indirectly benefiting the second species by releasing it from competition.

Basslets

Fairy basslet (top) and blackcap basslet (bottom). Credit Tye Kindinger.

For her PhD research, Kindinger set up an experiment in which she manipulated both lionfish abundance and the abundance of each basslet species.  She created high density and low density lionfish reefs by capturing most of the lionfish from one reef and transferring them to another (a total of three reefs of each density).  She manipulated basslet density on each reef by removing either fairy or blackcap basslets from an isolated reef ledge within a particular reef.  This experimental design allowed her to separate out the effects of predation by lionfish from the effects of competition between the two basslet species.  Most of her results pertained to juveniles, which were about 2 cm long and favored by the lionfish.

KindingerTable

Alex Davis

Alex Davis captures and removes basslets beneath a ledge. Credit Tye Kindinger.

Kindinger measured basslet abundance in grams of basslet biomass per m2 of ledge area.  When lionfish were abundant, juvenile fairy basslet abundance decreased over the eight weeks of the experiment (dashed line) but did not change when lionfish were rare (solid line).  In contrast, juvenile blackcap basslet populations remained steady over the course of the study, whether lionfish were abundant or rare. Kindinger concluded that lionfish were eating more fairy basslets.

KindingerFig12A

Abundance of juvenile fairy basslets (left) and blackcap basslets (right) as measured as change in overall biomass. Triangles represent high lionfish reefs and circles are low lionfish reefs.

Competition is intense between the two basslet species, and can affect feeding position and growth rate.  Kindinger’s manipulations of lionfish density and basslet density demonstrate that fairy basslet foraging and growth depend primarily on the abundance of their blackcap competitors. When competitor blackcap basslets are common (approach a biomass value of 1.0 on the x-axis on the two graphs below), fairy basslets tend to move towards the back of the ledge, and grow more slowly.  This occurs at both high and low lionfish densities.

KindingerFig1BC

Change in feeding position (top) and growth rate (bottom) of fairy basslets in relation to competitor (blackcap basslet) abundance (x-axis) and lionfish abundance (triangles = high, circles = low)

In contrast, blackcap basslets had an interactive response to fairy basslet and lionfish abundance. Let’s look first at low lionfish densities (circles in the graphs below).  You can see that blackcap basslets tend to move towards the back of the ledge (poor feeding position) at high competitor (fairy basslet) biomass, and also grow very slowly.  But when lionfish are common (triangles in the graphs below), blackcap basslets retain a favorable feeding position and grow quickly, even at high fairy basslet abundance.

KindingerFig2BC

Change in feeding position (top) and growth rate (bottom) of blackcap basslets in relation to competitor (fairy basslet) abundance (x-axis) and lionfish abundance (triangles = high, circles = low)

By preying primarily on fairy basslets, lionfish are changing the dynamics of competition between the two species. The diagram below nicely summarizes the process.  Larger fish of both species forage near the front of the ledge, while smaller fish forage further back.  But there is an even distribution of both species.  Focusing on juveniles, they are relatively evenly distributed in the rear portion of the ledge (Figure B).  When fairy basslets are removed experimentally, the juvenile blackcap basslets move to the front of the rear portion of the ledge, as they are released from competition with fairy basslets (Figure D).  Finally, when lionfish are abundant, fairy basslets are eaten more frequently, and juvenile blackcaps benefit from the lack of competition (Figure F)

KindingerFig3

Kindinger was very surprised with the results of this study because she knew the lionfish were generalist predators that eat both basslet species, so she expected lionfish to have similar effects on both prey species.  But they didn’t, and she does not know why.  Do lionfish prefer to eat fairy basslets due to increased conspicuousness or higher activity levels, or are blackcap basslets better at escaping lionfish predators? Whatever the mechanism, this study highlights that indirect effects of predation by invasive species can influence prey populations in unexpected ways.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Ecology. The reference is Kindinger, T. L. (2018). Invasive predator tips the balance of symmetrical competition between native coral‐reef fishes. Ecology99(4), 792-800. Thanks to the Ecological Society of America for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Ecological Society of America. All rights reserved.

Mangroves partner with rats in China

Many of us have seen firsthand the havoc that invasive plants can wreak on ecosystems.  We are accustomed to think of native plants as unable to defend themselves, much like a skinny little kid surrounded by a group of playground bullies. ‘Not so fast’ says Yihui Zhang.  As it turns out, many native plants can defend themselves against invasions, and they do so with the help of unlikely allies.

In southern China, mangrove marshes are being invaded by the salt marsh cordgrass, Spartina alterniflora, which is native to the eastern USA coastline. Cordgrass seeds can float into light gaps among the mangroves, and then germinate and choke out mangrove seedlings.  However, intact mangrove forests can resist cordgrass invasion.  Zhang and his colleagues wanted to know how they resist.

mangrove-Spartina ecotone

Cordgrass (pale green) meets mangrove (bright green) as viewed from space. Credit: Yihui Zhang.

Cordgrass was introduced into China in 1979 to reduce coastal erosion.  It proved up to the task, quickly transforming mudflats into dense cordgrass stands, and choking out much of the native plant community.  Dense mangrove forests grow near river channels that enter the ocean, and are considerably taller than their cordgrass competitors.  The last player in this interaction is a native rat, Rattus losea, which often nests on mangrove canopies above the high tide level. At the research site (Yunxiao), many rat nests were built on mangroves, using cordgrass leaves and stems as the building material.

zhangnest.png

Rat nest constructed from cordgrass shoots rests upon a mangrove tree.  Credit Yihui Zhang.

Zhang and his colleagues suspected that cordgrass invasion into the mangrove forest was prevented by both competition from mangroves and herbivory by rats on cordgrass.

Baby rat in the nest

Baby rats in their nest. Credit Yihui Zhang.

 

To test this hypothesis, they built cages to exclude rats from three different habitats: open mudflats (primarily pure stands of cordgrass), the forest edge, and the mangrove forest understory, (with almost no cordgrass). They set up control plots that also had cages, but that still allowed rats to enter.

zhangregenshoot

Arrow points to resprouting cordgrass. Credit Yihui Zhang.

The researchers planted 6 cordgrass ramets (genetically identical pieces of live plant) in each plot and then monitored rodent grazing, resprouting of original shoots following grazing, and shoot survival over the next 70 days.

They discovered that the cages worked; no rats grazed inside the cages.  But in the control plots, grazing was highest in the forest understory and lowest in the mudflats (Top figure below).  Most important, both habitat type and exposure to grazing influenced cordgrass survival.  In the understory, rodent grazing was very important; only one ramet survived in the control plots, while 46.7% of ramets survived if rats were excluded.  In the other two habitats, grazing did not affect ramet survival, which was very high with or without grazing (Middle figure). Rodent grazing effectively eliminated resprouting of ramets in the understory, but not in the other two habitats (Bottom figure).

Zhangfig2

Impact of rat grazing on cordgrass in the field study in three different habitats.  Top figure is % of stems grazed, middle figure is transplant survival, and bottom figure is resprouting after grazing (there was no grazing in the rodent exclusion plots). Error bars are 1 standard error. Different letters above bars indicate significant differences between treatments.

The researchers suspected that low light levels in the understory were preventing cordgrass from resprouting after rat grazing. This was most easily tested in the greenhouse, where light conditions could be effectively controlled.  High light was 80% the intensity of outdoor sunlight, medium light was 33% (about what strikes the forest edge) and low light was 10% the intensity of outdoor sunlight (similar to mangrove understory light).  Rat grazing was simulated by cutting semi-circles on the stembase, pealing back the leaf sheath, and digging out the leaf tissue. Cordgrass ramets were planted in large pots, exposed to different light and grazing treatments, and monitored for survival, growth and resprouting following grazing.

Greenhouse setup

Cordgrass growing in greenhouse under different light treatments. Credit: Yihui Zhang.

Zhang and his colleagues found that simulated grazing sharply reduced cordgrass survival from 85% to 7% at low light intensity, but had no impact on survival at medium or high light intensities.  Cordgrass did not resprout after simulated grazing at low light intensity, in contrast to approximately 50% resprouting at medium and high light intensity.

ZhangFig4

Survival (top) and resprouting (bottom) of cordgrass following simulated grazing in the greenhouse experiment.

The researchers conclude that grazing by rats and shading by mangroves are two critical factors that make mangroves resistant to cordgrass invasion. Rats tend to build their nests near the mangrove forest edge, so it is not clear how far into the forest the rat effect extends. Rats do prefer to forage in the understory (rather than right along the edge), presumably because the understory helps to protect them from predators.  In essence, mangroves compete directly with cordgrass by shading them out, and also indirectly by attracting cordgrass-eating rats. Conservation biologists need to be aware of both direct and indirect effects when designing management programs for protecting endangered ecosystems such as mangrove forests.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Ecology. The reference is Zhang, Y. , Meng, H. , Wang, Y. and He, Q. (2018), Herbivory enhances the resistance of mangrove forest to cordgrass invasion. Ecology. Accepted Author Manuscript. doi:10.1002/ecy.2233. Thanks to the Ecological Society of America for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Ecological Society of America. All rights reserved.