Urchins in hot water

June 29, 2020 by fredsingerecology

The fabled Mediterranean Sea is under stress from overfishing, pollution, rapid warming, and the associated proliferation of invasive species that thrive in the warming waters. Two species of rabbitfish (Siganus luridus and Siganus rivulatus) crossed the Suez Canal into the Mediterranean Sea in the 20^th century, and now make up about 95% of the herbivorous fish in rocky habitats along the Levant Basin off the Israeli coast. These fish are voracious feeders on macroalgae that live in the Levant, and they have become much more abundant during the past 30 years in association with increased water temperatures of 2-3 degrees C.

The rabbitfish Siganus luridus. Credit: Roberto Pillon at Wikipedia.

While the Levant has been warming and rabbitfish have been proliferating, things have not gone very well for the purple sea urchin Paracentrotus lividus. Previously, it had been a very important consumer of macroalgae within the Levant, but its population has collapsed within the past decades. For his Masters program, Erez Yeruham decided to investigate why the sea urchin population collapsed. Initially, he and his colleagues thought it was likely that sea urchins were competitively excluded by the invasive rabbitfish. These fish overgrazed much of the algal meadows, forming barren grounds along much of the Israeli coastline. However, during the experiments they did to check that out, they noted that sea urchin mortality occurred in two consecutive summers, but not in other seasons. That led them to explore how sea urchin survival was affected by both the impact of warming water and by competition with rabbitfish.

Researchers construct cages to investigate to investigate the causes of sea urchin population collapse. See description below. Credit Erez Yeruham.

To investigate competitive exclusion of sea urchins by rabbitfish, the researchers bolted 25 metal cages (50 x 50 x 20 cm) to the rocks approximately 9 meters below the surface of the sea. They set up six different treatments: (1) fish only (F), (2) fish and sea urchins (FU), (3) sea urchins only (U), (4) no fish nor sea urchins (N), (5) cage control – a partial cage that allowed access to organisms (CC), and (6) no cage – an open control plot marked with bolts (NC). For the treatments with sea urchins (FU and U), the researchers introduced five sea urchins into each cage. For the treatments with fish (F and FU), the researchers cut oblong holes in the mesh large enough for rabbitfish to get through. There were five replicates of each experiment in the fall of 2011 and again in the spring of 2012.

Metal cage with five sea urchins (upper left corner of cage). Credit: Erez Yeruham.

Yeruham and his colleagues discovered that fish drastically reduced the abundance of soft algae, but that urchins had no discernable effect. The researchers suggest that sea urchin density in the cages was low enough that even though sea urchins were eating some soft algae, the effects were too small to be detected. Both fish and sea urchins had very little effect on the abundance of calcareous algae (algae with hard crusty surfaces).

Mean (+ standard error) dry weight (grams) of soft and calcareous algae for the six experimental treatments.

The researchers compared the amount of food in sea urchin guts when they were caged by themselves, or in cages with fish access. Sea urchins had 40% more food in their guts when fish were excluded (left graph below). In addition, they had a 30% greater gonado-somatic index (GSI) when fish were excluded (right graph below – the GSI measures the relative size of the gonads – a high GSI indicates good health and high reproductive potential). So when rabbitfish could visit the cages, sea urchins ate much less and suffered poorer health.

Mean dry organic gut content (left graph) and GSI (right graph) of sea urchins with and without fish.

The results of this experiment show that rabbitfish have strong competitive effects on sea urchin food intake and overall health. But do warmer waters also help to explain the collapse of sea urchin populations in the Levant? And might thermal stress interact with food limitation to influence sea urchin health? To answer these questions the researchers used seawater pumped in directly from the sea into tanks that housed eight sea urchins. Five tanks received ambient temperature seawater, while five other tanks received water that was chilled by 2 deg. C to mimic water temperatures before sea urchin populations collapsed. Each tank was divided in half by a partition so that four urchins could be fed (algae) three times a week, while the other four urchins were starved.

One important finding is that during the winter, feeding rates were similar when comparing sea urchins in ambient vs. chilled sea water (two left bars below – those differences are not statistically significant). However, feeding rates plummeted in the summer when water temperatures exceeded 29 deg. C in the ambient-temperature sea water.

Mean algal consumption by sea urchins in ambient vs. chilled water during the winter (two left bars) and summer (two right bars).

Respiration rates (measured as oxygen consumption) are a good measure of metabolic performance. Highest respiration rates were measured in the winter with fed sea urchins (ambient was slightly higher than cold) and in the summer with cold fed sea urchins. Most notably, when sea water temperatures increased above 29 deg. C in the summer, the respiration rates were very low, even in sea urchins that were well-fed.

Mean (+ standard error) respiration rate (measured as oxygen uptake) of starved and fed sea urchins in ambient vs. chilled water during the winter and summer.

What emerges from this series of experiments is that sea urchins feed much more poorly and have lower respiration rates at high temperatures, independent of the effects of competition with rabbitfish. The researchers also found that survival rates were lower at elevated temperatures. Yeruham and his colleagues conclude that the direct effects of high temperature and the indirect effects of competition with rabbitfish are important factors that together conspired to lead to the collapse of sea urchin populations in the Levant. They expect that as sea temperatures increase, rabbitfish will become more dominant in other regions that are now a bit cooler than the Levant. As warming continues and competition increases, Yeruham and his colleagues predict that sea urchin populations will collapse in those somewhat cooler ecosystems as well, changing the structure and functioning of coastal ecosystems across the Mediterranean.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Ecology. The reference is Yeruham, E., Shpigel, M., Abelson, A., and Rilov, G.. 2020. Ocean warming and tropical invaders erode the performance of a key herbivore. Ecology 101( 2):e02925. 10.1002/ecy.2925. Thanks to the Ecological Society of America for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2020 by the Ecological Society of America. All rights reserved.

Coral can recover (occasionally)

March 7, 2019 by fredsingerecology

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.

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%.

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.

% 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.

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.

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.

Intertidal tussles: a shifting balance

October 17, 2018 by fredsingerecology

As an omnivore with a research-oriented palate, I delight in consuming many different food types. High on my list are crustaceans – in particular the American lobster, Homarus americanus.

A juvenile American lobster, Homarus americanus. Credit: C. Baillie.

However, another crustacean, the invasive Asian shore crab, Hemigrapsus sanguineus, threatens to disrupt my epicurean delight, by interfering with the growth and development of juvenile lobsters in the low intertidal zone in the north Atlantic. Christopher Baillie and Jonathan Grabowski have explored interactions between these lobsters and crabs to unravel how they might be influencing each other.

The invasive Asian shore crab, Hemigrapsus sanguineus. Credit: Rhode Island Marine and Estuarine Invasive Species Site.

The Asian shore crab was first detected off the New Jersey coast in 1988 and quickly spread from North Carolina to Maine. Their increase has coincided with a sharp decrease in the abundance of their rival green crabs over the same range. Baillie and Grabowski were concerned that the Asian shore crab could also be adversely affecting lobster populations. They did monthly surveys (May-October) of both lobster and crab densities in Dorothy Cove in Masachusetts, USA, between 2013 and 2017, and discovered that crab populations were increasing sharply at the same time that lobster populations were decreasing steadily.

Annual average densities of Asian shore crabs (dark gray) and American lobsters (light gray) from surveys at Dorothy Cove, Nahant, Massachusetts, USA, between 2013 and 2017. Error bars are 1 standard error.

The researchers wanted to know whether the increased number of Asian shore crabs was responsible for the lobster decline. Perhaps the two species competed with each other for shelter. Baillie and Grabowski set up experimental tanks, each containing a wire mesh bottom with a rectangular opening cut in the center, so that a burrow could be excavated. They then introduced a single lobster or crab to the tank, and allowed it to dig a burrow in the cutout center (we’ll call this individual the resident).

In one shelter experiment, the researchers compared the behavior of larger (mean carapace length = 24.7 cm) and smaller (mean carapace length = 9.3 cm) juvenile lobsters in the presence and absence of a variable number of crabs. They discovered that both larger and smaller lobsters spent most of the time in their burrow when no crabs were in the tank. However, introducing crabs was a major disruptor to their mellow existence, with both lobster size classes being more likely to abandon their residences when crabs were present.

Mean (+ standard error) percentage of time spent in shelter by large juvenile lobsters (top graph) and small juvenile lobsters (bottom graph) in relation to absence (Control) or presence of different numbers of crabs. Different letters above the bars indicate that the means are statistically different from each other.

The reasons for the decline in residence time were very different for large vs. small lobsters. In an experiment with one large lobster pitted against one crab, resident lobsters initiated an average of 18.00 attacks against crabs, while resident crabs initiated an average of only 0.20 attacks against lobsters. Even if crabs were allowed to establish residency, when a lobster was introduced, it usually picked a fight with the resident crab. So large resident lobsters left their burrows to challenge intruding crabs. Lobsters managed to kill and eat two intruding crabs.

In contrast, smaller lobsters had a much different experience. Crabs attacked resident small lobsters and were able to displace them from their burrow. This was particularly the case when a greater number of crabs were added to the tank. When eight crabs were added, the poor lobster was kicked out of its burrow, on average, almost 20 times within a six-hour trial. Under these conditions, crabs attacked the resident lobster almost 40 times per trial.

Crab behavior towards a resident lobster in relation to the number of crabs (heterospecific competitors) introduced into the tank. (A) Mean number of times the lobster is displaced. (B) Mean number of fights initiated by an intruder crab. Error bars are 1 standard error. Different letters above the bars indicate that the means are statistically different from each other.

Baillie and Grabowski also conducted feeding trials – but only with a larger lobster pitted against an individual crab (a blue mussel – a preferred food item for both species – was the prey). Lobsters were much more successful feeders than crabs, and actually increased their feeding rates in the presence of crabs, presumably having no interest in sharing the mussel with its competitor. Taken together, the shelter and feeding experiments suggest a reversal in dominance structure occurs over the course of lobster development. The abundant Asian shore crab outcompetes small juvenile lobsters for shelter, but once lobsters attain a certain size, they can outcompete crabs for both shelter and food. We still don’t know, for sure, whether the decline in lobsters in the low intertidal zone at the study site was caused by the increase in crabs; the Asian shore crab may still be expanding its range, so it may be possible to more directly study changes in distribution at other sites both north and south of its current range. Fortunately for lobsters (and for lobster consumers), juveniles can also grow and flourish in deeper ocean waters, where Asian shore crabs are much less of a threat.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Ecology. The reference is Baillie, C. J. and Grabowski, J. H. (2018), Competitive and agonistic interactions between the invasive Asian shore crab and juvenile American lobster. Ecology, 99: 2067-2079. doi:10.1002/ecy.2432. 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.

Indirect effects of the lionfish invasion

May 28, 2018 by fredsingerecology

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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. Ecology, 99(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

May 13, 2018 by fredsingerecology

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.

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.

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 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.

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).

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.

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.

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.

Plant communities bank against drought

May 3, 2018 by fredsingerecology

Many plants shed their young embryos (seeds) into the soil where they may accumulate in a dormant (non-growth) state over years before germinating (resuming growth and development). Ecologists describe this collection of seeds as a seed bank. Marina LaForgia describes how scientists were able to germinate and grow to maturity some 32,000 year old Silene stenophylla seeds that was stashed, probably by an ancient squirrel, in the permafrost! With increased climatic variation predicted by most climate models, she wanted to know how environmental variability might affect germination of particular groups of species within a community. In addition, she and her colleagues recognized that most ecological studies investigate community responses to disturbances by looking at the aboveground species. It stands to reason that we should consider the below-surface seed bank as a window to how a community might respond in the future.

Some seedlings coming up from the seed bank. Credit:Marina LaForgia.

Seed banks can be viewed as a bet-hedging strategy that spreads out germination over several (or many) years to reduce the probability of catastrophic population decline in response to one severe disturbance, such as drought, flood or fire. In some California annual grassland communities, species diversity is dominated by annual forbs – nonwoody flowering plants that are not grasses. Many forbs produce seeds that can lie dormant in the seed banks for several years. Though these forbs are the most diverse group, there are also about 15 species of exotic annual grasses that dominate the landscape in abundance and cover. These grasses dominate because they produce up to 60,000 seeds per m², they grow very quickly, and they build up a layer of thatch that suppresses native forbs. However, seeds from these grasses cannot lie dormant in the seed bank for very long.

Area of field site dominated by Delphinium (purple flower) and Lasthenia (yellow flower). Looking closely you can also see some tall grasses rising. Credit Marina LaForgia.

How is drought affecting these two major components of the plant community? LaForgia and her colleagues answered this question by collecting seeds from a northern California grassland at the University of California McLaughlin Natural Reserve in fall 2012 (beginning of the drought) and fall 2014 (near the end of the drought). They used a 5-cm diameter 10-cm deep cylindrical sampler to collect soil and associated seeds from 80 different plots. The researchers also used these same plots to estimate aboveground-cover, and to identify the aboveground species that were present. The research team germinated and identified more than 11,000 seeds.

Plants germinating in the greenhouse. Credit Marina LaForgia.

The researchers knew from previous work on aboveground vegetation that exotic annual grasses declined very sharply in response to drought. In contrast, the native forbs did relatively well, in part depending on their specific leaf area (SLA) – a measure of relative leaf size, with low SLA plants conserving water more efficiently. It seemed reasonable that these same patterns would be reflected belowground. Recall that most grass seeds are incapable of extended dormancy, while many forbs can remain dormant for several years. Consequently, LaForgia and her colleagues expected that grass abundance in the seed bank would decline more sharply than would forb abundance. In addition, they expected that high SLA forbs would not do as well as low SLA forbs during drought.

The researchers discovered very sharp differences between the two groups over the course of the drought. Exotic annual grasses declined sharply in the seed bank, while native annual forb abundance tripled. Aboveground cover of grasses declined considerably, while aboveground cover of forbs increased modestly. Clearly the exotic grasses were suffering from the drought, while the forbs were doing quite well.

(a) Seed bank abundance of grasses (red circles) and forbs (blue triangles) at beginning of drought (2012) and near end of drought (2014). (b) Percent cover of grasses (red circles) and forbs (blue triangles) at beginning of drought (2012) and near end of drought (2014). Data are based on samples from 80 plots. Error bars indicate one standard error.

We can see these differences on an individual species basis, with most of the grasses declining modestly or sharply in abundance, while most of the forbs increased.

Mean change in seed bank abundance per species based on 15 exotic grass species and 81 native forb species.

It is not surprising that the grasses do so poorly during the drought. Presumably, less water causes poorer germination, growth, survival and seed production. In addition, because grass seeds have a low capacity for dormancy, grass abundance will tend to decrease in the seed bank very quickly with such a low infusion of new seeds.

But why are the forbs actually doing better with less water available to them? One explanation is that grass abundance and cover declined sharply, causing the forbs to experience reduced competition with grasses that might otherwise inhibit their growth, development and reproductive success. The tripling of native forbs in the seed bank was much greater than the 14% increase in aboveground forb cover. The researchers reason that the drought caused many of the forb seeds to remain dormant, leading to them building up in the seed bank. This was particularly the case for low SLA forbs, which increased much more than did high SLA forbs in the seed bank.

We can understand exotic grass behavior in the context of their place of origin – the Mediterranean basin, which tends to have wet winters. In that environment, natural selection favored individuals that germinated quickly, grew fast and made lots of babies. Since their introduction to California in the mid 1800s, 2014 was the driest year on record. It will be fascinating to see if these exotic grasses can recover when, and if, wetter conditions return. Can we bank on it?

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Ecology. The reference is LaForgia, M.L., Spasojevic, M.J., Case, E.J., Latimer, A.M. and Harrison, S.P., 2018. Seed banks of native forbs, but not exotic grasses, increase during extreme drought. Ecology99 (4): 896-903. 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.

Fred's Ecology and Environmental Tales (AKA: The FEET)

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