Text Size: A  A  A

Bay Blog: research

Jun
29
2017

From the Field: How invasive species could be impacting vital salamander habitat

Within five minutes of entering Corcoran Woods, Susan Lamont is bent over what looks like a large puddle, gently holding a gelatinous mass. The mass is made up of salamander eggs, and what she’s bent over is no puddle, but a vernal pool.

Vernal pools are ephemeral forest ponds, fed by snow, rain or groundwater. They only stay wet for about seven months out of the year, but in that time, they host a wealth of animals. Amphibians like salamanders and frogs lay their eggs in vernal pools, which have fewer predators like fish due to their temporary nature.

Today, Lamont, a biology professor at Anne Arundel Community College, is leading a group of students and volunteers in a survey of vernal pools, looking for egg masses lain by spotted and marbled salamanders. They’re exploring the more than 200-acre Corcoran Environmental Study Area, which lies in Anne Arundel County, Maryland, just west of the Chesapeake Bay.

Anne Arundel Community College student Dominic Ollivierre, right, pulls leaves from a net while surveying a vernal pool with classmates and biology professor Susan Lamont, second from left, at Corcoran Woods, part of Sandy Point State Park in Anne Arundel County, Md., on March 24, 2017. For three years, Lamont has brought her students and volunteers out to survey the woods’ vernal pools.

The southeastern section of Corcoran Woods is dotted with these temporary pools. Lamont breaks the students up into groups and shows them the pools they’ll be surveying. Armed with nets, boots and GPS markers, they begin scouring their pools for evidence of amphibian breeding.

Along with the surveying that her students and volunteers are doing, Lamont is setting traps for adult salamanders to help determine how they use the pools. In the past, she and her students would find adults by looking under rocks and logs. “I want to know how much they’re using the pools,” she says.

Now in her third year of the study, Lamont’s research not only answers her own questions and provides her students with an outdoor learning opportunity, it also serves the Maryland Department of Natural Resources (DNR), which owns Corcoran Woods. They were concerned about the vernal pools and if they were at risk of drying up. “If you’re managing the pools, you have to know what’s happening with them,” says Lamont. “They don’t have the staff to come out and do [the surveying], and it’s easy to get the students—they love it.”

A spotted salamander egg mass develops in a vernal pool at Corcoran Woods. Anne Arundel Community College biology professor Susan Lamont is studying the impact on vernal pools at Corcoran following the removal of invasive plants.

About a half mile away, the northwest corner of the forest tells a different story. There are no vernal pools here, but there is an even more dramatic difference: this corner of the woods, unlike the southeast where Lamont’s students are surveying, is plagued by invasive species.

Much of the land was cleared of invasives last year, treated with herbicides and replanted with native trees. The hope is that the natives will grow large enough to shade the area and help keep invasives out. Until then, it will have to be carefully looked after to prevent regrowth of invasive species.

A slight turn in the trail reveals the vastly altered landscape. A forest of plastic tree tubes blankets the area of what used to be acres of invasive plants like oriental bittersweet, English ivy and multifloral rose. Some original trees still remain, but pale-green tubes stick out like hundreds of hair plugs.

Susan Lamont, a biology professor at Anne Arundel Community College, stands at the edge of a large invasive species removal and tree planting site at Corcoran Woods.

“The red plot was severely infested,” recalls Lamont. “Before they treated it, all you could see were invasives. Vines were over the tops of the trees.” Thick vines still hung from a few of the remaining trees, but hovered about six feet above the ground where they had been severed from their roots.

Along with sunlight, invasive species require a lot of water, and in turn could have lowered the groundwater table. “This is a drier area than the vernal pool area,” Lamont notes. “We’re not sure if it’s drier because [the invasive species] were here, or if that’s why the invasives took over.” If the former is true, it could spell bad news for the vernal pools if the invasive species make their way south east.

Groundwater is generally talked about in terms of drinking water and irrigation, but forest plants and animals need it just as much as humans. In Corcoran Woods, groundwater is vital for feeding the vernal pools that salamanders and other amphibians rely on, but this corner of the woods is much drier and noticeably absent any pools.

That’s where Lamont’s new research comes in. She’s going to put groundwater monitoring wells in the area where the invasives are to see if the removal efforts make the area wetter. She’ll also put some groundwater wells in the vernal pool area to compare water levels within Corcoran Woods.

“[Maryland DNR is] very interested in protecting the pool habitat and restoring the part of the woods that was decimated by invasives,” Lamont says. By measuring the effect of invasive species on groundwater—and, in turn, the vernal pools the salamanders use—Lamont and her students can help DNR support the interconnected ecosystem at Corcoran Woods.

Images by Will Parson

Joan Smedinghoff's avatar
About Joan Smedinghoff - Joan is the Communications Office Staffer at the Chesapeake Bay Program. Originally from Chicago, she was introduced to the Chesapeake Bay region through the streams of central Pennsylvania. She received her Bachelor's in Environmental Studies from Dickinson College in Carlisle, Pa., where she first discovered her passion for storytelling.



Jun
23
2017

Photo of the Week: Research meets recreation at Monie Bay

Marion Clement, executive director of the Maryland Bird Conservation Partnership, listens for bird callbacks during a marsh bird monitoring survey conducted by Maryland Department of Natural Resources at Monie Bay in Somerset County, Maryland, on June 15, 2017.

Along with Otter Point Creek in Harford County and Jug Bay in Anne Arundel County, Monie Bay is a component of Maryland’s portion of the Chesapeake Bay National Estuarine Research Reserve (CBNERR). CBNERR Maryland protects and manages the three sites—which encompass more than 6,000 acres of land and water—to serve as living laboratories for research on issues facing the Chesapeake Bay. (Across the state line, CBNERR Virginia manages more than 3,000 acres at four sites.)

With limited nearby development, Monie Bay’s relatively pristine conditions have made it host to numerous studies on the health and function of marshes. Researchers like Clement monitor marsh bird populations to study their current status and document potential changes. Other researchers use surface elevation tables, or SETs, to measure changes in marsh elevation, helping to estimate wetland resilience against sea level rise. Staff and volunteers also monitor water quality, study marsh vegetation and band barn owls.

As a vast, undisturbed natural area, Monie Bay also offers abundant opportunities to enjoy the outdoors, through kayaking, fishing, hiking and more. But due in part to its remote location, public use of the reserve is fairly infrequent. To boost visits to Monie Bay, Clement—through her previous work as a Chesapeake Conservation Corps intern—spearheaded the creation of a network of three water trails. With funding from the Chesapeake Bay Trust, Clement and others installed directional signs down nine miles of tidal creeks, which guide visitors along a unique view of Monie Bay’s salt marsh habitat.

Image by Skyler Ballard

Stephanie Smith's avatar
About Stephanie Smith - Stephanie is the Web Content Manager at the Chesapeake Bay Program. A native of the Midwest, she received her Bachelor’s in Professional Writing from Purdue University and Master of Science degree from the University of Michigan. Stephanie’s lifelong love of nature motivates her to explore solutions to environmental problems and teach others what they can do to help.



Jun
02
2017

Photo of the Week: Revisiting history at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center

Citizen scientists and volunteers sift for artifacts near the stabilized ruins of the Contee Farm House at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center (SERC) in Edgewater, Maryland, during its open house on May 20, 2017. Primarily known for its innovative research, SERC is home to more than 180 scientists working to understand environmental changes in the Chesapeake Bay and around the world. But the 2,650-acre campus is also full of opportunities to discover the natural world—with forests, wetlands, marshes and shorelines—and to explore remnants of the land’s history, like the Contee Farm House.

Today, only two chimneys from the original brick mansion, built in the early 1700s, still stand. Although named for John Contee, a Navy officer who purchased the land after the War of 1812, Contee was mostly an absentee owner and never actually lived on site. When he passed away, his two sons divided the farm into two sections: Contee and Java. Through the following decades, both farms fell into disuse and disrepair, transferred among a series of absentee owners.

In 1915, a businessman named Robert Lee Forrest took control of the Java Farm portion of the land. Forrest turned it into a dairy, delivering milk to much of the surrounding area. When his farmhands began leaving to fight in World War II, however, the farm again fell into disrepair. But in 1962, when Forrest passed away, a surprising discovery was made: Forrest, who had no prior connection to the Smithsonian Institution, had willed his 368-acre property to the organization.

Unsure at first about what to do with the land, the Smithsonian established it as a field collection site known as the Chesapeake Bay Center for Field Biology. As the years passed, the center grew and changed names, renamed the Chesapeake Bay Center for Environmental Studies in 1970 and earning its current name, SERC, in 1985. In 2008, SERC acquired the adjacent Contee Farm, uniting the Contee and Java portions for the first time in more than 150 years. The nearby Sellman Farm was also added to the property, bringing the campus to its current size.

Today, in addition to cutting-edge research facilities, SERC boasts the largest tract of contiguous preserved land and largest site of public access on the Chesapeake Bay’s western shore. Visitors are welcome to explore the property Monday through Saturday, 9 a.m. to 4 p.m.

Plan a visit to SERC or learn more about SERC’s history.

Image by Will Parson

Stephanie Smith's avatar
About Stephanie Smith - Stephanie is the Web Content Manager at the Chesapeake Bay Program. A native of the Midwest, she received her Bachelor’s in Professional Writing from Purdue University and Master of Science degree from the University of Michigan. Stephanie’s lifelong love of nature motivates her to explore solutions to environmental problems and teach others what they can do to help.



Apr
24
2017

Oyster shells show evidence of early human pollution of Chesapeake Bay

Researchers studying historic pollution levels in the Chesapeake Bay found their answers in a somewhat out-of-the-ordinary subject: oyster shells. A recent study from the University of Alabama looked at nutrient levels in Bay oyster shells dating back over three thousand years, finding that humans have been polluting the Chesapeake Bay since the early 19th century.

Shells are stockpiled at the University of Maryland Center for Environmental Science's Horn Point Laboratory oyster hatchery in Cambridge, Md., on Feb. 6, 2012.

Because they live stationary lives, oysters can make useful study subjects, serving as snapshots of environmental conditions in one location. As filter feeders—they eat by pumping water through their gills—the bivalves remove nutrients from the water, absorbing much of it into their shells. This study was one of the first to use oyster shells, commonly found at archaeological sites in the region, to backdate nitrogen levels. Using that data, researchers could determine when nitrogen levels increased and what role humans may have played.

Studying oyster shells dating back to 1250 BC, researchers found a dramatic increase in nitrogen content that began in the early 1800s and increased almost exponentially until present day. That timeline corresponds what is known about human activities in the Chesapeake Bay region at that time: dramatic increases in population, agriculture and forest clearing. While American Indians altered their environment and contributed to higher nitrogen levels in the water, the effects were local. Beginning in the 17th century, an influx of European colonizers led to an increase in agriculture and forest clearing— but it wasn’t until the 19th century that human effects began to dramatically alter nitrogen levels in oysters.

Industrialization and population increases in the 1800s left their mark on the Chesapeake Bay. Between 1830 and 1880, the area’s population tripled. As a result, over 80 percent of forests surrounding the Bay were cleared for farming and development. Plowing and erosion increased the amount of sewage and sediment entering the water, increasing nitrogen levels in the water as well. Oyster populations also declined, thus limiting the ability of the Bay to filter out this influx of pollution.

While this research focused on historical nitrogen levels, nutrient pollution is still a problem in the Chesapeake Bay today. Nitrogen is necessary for plants and animals to survive, but too much of it can lead to algal blooms, which create harmful conditions for underwater life. Manure and fertilizers can wash off of agricultural fields into nearby waterways, and stormwater runoff can pick up nutrients from excess lawn and garden fertilizers, pet waste and other sources in urban areas. Chesapeake Bay Program partners work with states, local governments, farmers, businesses and many more stakeholders to implement practices that can reduce and even eliminate pollution entering waterways.

The study, “δ15N Values in Crassostrea virginica Shells Provides Early Direct Evidence for Nitrogen Loading to Chesapeake Bay,” is available online in Scientific Reports.



Feb
28
2017

What do we really know about cownose rays?

Cownose rays have been in the news a lot lately, due to proposed legislation in Maryland that would place a ban on cownose ray hunting tournaments. Held in the summertime, these tournaments are popular among bowhunters who want to reduce the cownose ray population.

Cownose rays tend to get a bad reputation because of what they are eating—or what people think they are eating. Cownose rays are highly specialized to eat bivalves like softshell clams, macoma clams and razor clams. But if other prey are unavailable, they occasionally snack on oysters and hard clams, a fact that has concerned watermen and the shellfish industry.

According to a report released by the Chesapeake Bay Program’s Sustainable Fisheries Goal Implementation Team, while oysters and hard clams are not a significant part of a ray’s diet, if they do choose to chow down on these bivalves, intense feeding in one localized area can occur. This feeds the fear that cownose rays will impact oyster restoration and aquaculture operations. However, because of the rays’ jaw size and the force it takes to crush large bivalves, feeding on oyster clusters found in sanctuaries or aquaculture operations can be very difficult for them. The most recent study on the diet of cownose rays shows small, soft shell clams and crustaceans make up most of what they eat.

Another popular misconception of the cownose ray is that it is an invasive species. In fact, they are native to the eastern seaboard of the United States and have been observed in the Chesapeake Bay for centuries. From May through October each year, cownose rays travel to the Chesapeake Bay to give birth in early summer and mate a few weeks later.  Because of this females are almost always pregnant. They have extremely slow reproductive cycles, producing only one pup a year, which then takes seven years to mature.

Map of cownose ray migration routes, courtesy of Smithsonian Environmental Research Center.

In the Chesapeake Bay, cownose rays are commercial bycatch of the fishing industry and are often targeted for recreational fishing. Rays that are caught by recreational fishing are typically disposed of and not used. Often, the remains end up as sources of fertilizer. For those who may try to eat them, rays can be difficult to cook—only 30 to 34 percent of the flesh is edible—and have a very bitter taste.

Last week, the Maryland Senate passed a bill recommending a moratorium on hunting tournaments until July 31, 2018, with the Maryland Department of Natural Resources developing a management plan by December 31, 2017. The House of Delegates is expected to vote on the ban in the next few weeks.



May
31
2016

The early banders catch the birds

A solitary sandpiper, top, is photographed at the Foreman's Branch Bird Observatory in Queen Anne's County, Md., on May 11, 2016. The observatory monitors the seasonal movements of roughly 15,000 birds every year using mist nets and aluminum leg bands. Clockwise, from top: A solitary sandpiper, Swainson's thrush, yellow-breasted chat, white-throated sparrow, ruby-throated hummingbird and blue grosbeak. 

At sunrise on an unseasonably cold, drizzly May morning, you might expect most people to still be curled up in bed, huddled under the blankets and dreaming of warmer weather. But on the Chesapeake Bay’s Eastern Shore, the birds are up and active, which means so are the bird banders at Foreman’s Branch Bird Observatory.

“We start an hour before sunrise, so right now that’s about 5:15 [a.m.],” says Amanda Spears, one of the banders at Foreman’s Branch. “It’s really busy the first couple of rounds, but it dies down later as the birds settle in after migrating all night.”

Jim Gruber, Director of the Foreman's Branch Bird Observatory, checks mist nets.

Part of Washington College’s Center for Environment & Society and named for the branch of the Chester River that flows nearby, Foreman’s Branch Bird Observatory is the only major migratory bird banding station on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. From March 1st through the end of May, Spears and her colleagues spend up to eight hours each day catching and banding birds as they migrate through the area.

Between spring and fall migrations, the team bands close to 15,000 birds each year. Spring migration in particular flies by. “Once the birds leave the tropics, they’re where they want to be in about two weeks,” explains Jim Gruber, director of Foreman’s Branch Bird Observatory. A retired Natural Resources officer, Gruber has been banding since he was 15 years old and now volunteers his time and expertise at Foreman’s Branch.

A great crested flycatcher is photographed after being caught at the Foreman's Branch Bird Observatory.

Foreman’s Branch and other bird observatories use mist nets—fine-mesh, polyester nets that hang loosely between two poles—to catch and monitor migrating birds. Each bird is carefully carried back to the banding station, where information is recorded on its age, sex, weight, body fat and more. New avian visitors are fitted with a small, stamped aluminum band on one leg; others, like return visitors, may already have a band. Researchers can use this band number to track how long ago a bird was banded and the places it may have stopped along its travels. Some species may travel thousands of miles from their wintering grounds to spring and summer habitat.

A male grasshopper sparrow is photographed at the Foreman's Branch Bird Observatory.

Data that the banders collect—along with banding data from across the country—is sent to Patuxent Wildlife Research Center in Laurel, Maryland: home of the Bird Banding Laboratory, which partners with the Canadian Wildlife Service’s Bird Banding Office to form the North American Bird Banding Program. As of 2012, the Bird Banding Laboratory received more than 1.2 million banding records each year. The information helps scientists understand migration patterns, population dynamics, the effects of management actions and the status of threatened or endangered species.

Wildlife biologist Amanda Spears releases an ovenbird after banding it and recording data.

For the birds themselves, though, the banding station is nothing more than a quick stopover. As banders finish with each bird, it’s released out a window and sent on its way. Some pause on a nearby shrub or tree limb, but most fly quickly out of sight, off to fill up on food and prepare for the next leg of their journey.

To protect the safety and health of migrating birds, bird banding is a strictly controlled activity in the United States. Banding permits are only given to trained professionals whose projects aid in bird conservation and management. If you find a banded bird, report the band number at www.reportband.gov or 1-800-327-BAND along with where, when and how you recovered the bird.

To view more photos, visit the Chesapeake Bay Program's Flickr page.

 

Images and captions by Will Parson
Text by Stephanie Smith

Stephanie Smith's avatar
About Stephanie Smith - Stephanie is the Web Content Manager at the Chesapeake Bay Program. A native of the Midwest, she received her Bachelor’s in Professional Writing from Purdue University and Master of Science degree from the University of Michigan. Stephanie’s lifelong love of nature motivates her to explore solutions to environmental problems and teach others what they can do to help.



Oct
28
2015

'Zombie' crabs invade the Chesapeake Bay

Imagine you are going about your day as usual when you encounter a foreign creature. It injects something in you, but does not kill you. Over the next few weeks, you notice a growth in your abdomen. A network of tube-like threads spreads throughout your circulatory system. Soon, you start losing control of your motor functions. You adopt defensive postures and develop maternal instincts to care for the growth instead of caring for yourself. Then, the mass begins to expel larvae, which seek out and infect anyone nearby. Your behavior is forever changed and your reproductive system destroyed.

Darin Rummel holds a black-fingered mud crab at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center in Edgewater, Md., on Oct. 15, 2015. Rummel works in the lab of Carolyn Tepolt studying the "zombie crab" parasite called Loxothylacus panopaei, or Loxo.

This scenario may seem like something out of a science fiction novel or the latest zombie thriller. But for many black-fingered mud crabs, the parasite Loxothylacus panopaei, or loxo, has made this situation a reality.

Loxo was discovered in the Chesapeake Bay about 50 years ago. Scientists believe it was carried from its native range in the Gulf of Mexico on oyster shells during early restoration efforts. Since then, researchers have found sites throughout the Bay where the parasite is highly prevalent, with infection rates as high as 30 to 50 percent.

The tiny parasite Loxo is visible to the naked eye as white specks under a bright light, but practically disappears inside its host.

“This is huge, especially because this parasite is a castrator, so infecting crabs means they can no longer reproduce,” said Carolyn Tepolt, Biodiversity Genomics Postdoctoral Fellow at the Smithsonian Institute. “[The crabs] are still alive, but essentially dead as far as genes are concerned, because they are not contributing to the next generation of crabs.”

The Chesapeake Bay Parasite Project was established as a means for scientists to develop a better understanding of loxo by both monitoring infection rates in the wild and making observations in a lab, where research can be done in a controlled environment.

An infected black-fingered mud crab displays a Loxo egg sac on its abdomen. Infected crabs care only for the parasite eggs and lose the ability to reproduce.

“In 2013, I had the idea that it should be a citizen science project,” said Monaca Noble, Biologist at the Smithsonian Institute. “This isn’t a project that has its own grant money. It’s a project we do because we love it, so it’s always collateral duty for somebody. We thought it would be great to bring on volunteers.”

Through studying the prevalence of the parasite in both its native and invasive range, researchers now understand that loxo is much rarer along the Gulf Coast and up to Cape Canaveral, Fla., where one to five percent of crabs are infected. Tepolt and her colleagues are working to understand if reproductive pressures have affected these numbers over generations. “Say you’re a crab and you have some little mutation that makes it a little harder for the parasite to infect you, you may have a huge evolutionary advantage if 50 percent of your peers are getting taken out of the gene pool,” said Tepolt.

Black-fingered mud crabs from a sampling site in Louisiana await study in the lab of Biodiversity Genomics Postdoctoral Fellow Carolyn Tepolt at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center in Edgewater, Md.

Citizen science has proven to be a valuable method for studying loxo’s reach and the population of affected crabs. Noble and her team have seen a steady increase in volunteer numbers, with 89 participants this past summer compared to 50 in 2014.

“I love [The Chesapeake Bay Parasite Project] as a citizen science project,” explained Noble. “It’s an opportunity to share an exciting story about science with people who are interested and get them excited about science, and also tell them about invasive species.”

To view more photos, visit the Chesapeake Bay Program’s Flickr page.

Text by Jenna Valente
Images by Will Parson

Jenna Valente's avatar
About Jenna Valente - Jenna developed a passion for conservation through her outdoorsy nature and upbringing in Hawaii, Washington State and Maine. A graduate of Virginia Tech's Executive Master of Natural Resources program and University of Maine's School of Communication and Journalism, she welcomes any opportunity to educate the public about the importance of caring for the environment.



Jul
28
2015

Photo Essay: Researching the headwaters of the Chesapeake

The calm, mirror-like surface of Otsego Lake is the subject of history and legend. Nicknamed “Glimmerglass” by James Fenimore Cooper, the author describes the lake in his work The Deerslayer as “a bed of the pure mountain atmosphere compressed into a setting of hills and woods.” The narrow, finger-like lake runs nine miles from north to south, coming to a point at Cooperstown, New York, where it marks the start of the Susquehanna River. Hop into a boat and follow the current, and a winding, 464-mile journey downriver will eventually drop you in the Chesapeake Bay. At first glance, the lake’s tranquil surface may seem humble beginnings for a mighty river that churns billions of gallons of fresh water into the nation’s largest estuary each day. But Otsego is a flurry of activity, home to a rich diversity of critters, habitats and ecosystems.

Dr. Bill Harman, Director of the SUNY Oneonta Biological Field Station in Cooperstown, N.Y., walks along the station's dock on Otsego Lake while an undergraduate parasitology class prepares to catch fish specimens on May 22, 2015. The Biological Field Station has grown to encompass 2,600 acres supporting laboratories, classrooms, offices, equipment and conserved land.

Alongside the shores of Otsego Lake sits the Biological Field Station, a laboratory that serves the State University of New York (SUNY) College at Oneonta, where researchers work year-round to study and preserve the lake. In 1967, the field station began as a 365-acre donation from the Clark Family Foundation. Now, the field station’s facilities— which include the main laboratory, a farm and boathouse, and various research sites and conserved lands—span more than 2,600 acres. Director Bill Harman, a professor of biology, has led the Biological Field Station for the entirety of its more than 40 year existence. As resident Otsego expert, Harman oversees the monitoring, research, training, workshops and field trips at the field station’s facilities.

John Montemarano, a sophomore biology major, casts a line on Otsego Lake while trying to catch fish with his classmates for a parasitology lab.

Hands-on learning opportunities are abundant across the waters, marshes and forests surrounding Otsego Lake. Field trips, summer internships and general research bring kindergarteners through post-graduates to the field station’s facilities. Students of SUNY Oneonta’s Master of Lake Management program—the first such program in North America—complete their studies at the Biological Field Station, sampling, monitoring and researching the waters of Otsego and other nearby lakes. Local residents and other visitors are also welcome to explore and can participate in lake monitoring alongside the field station’s scientists.

Bill Harman, who founded the Biological Field Station in 1968 and remains its Director, poses at the field station’s Thayer Boathouse overlooking Otsego Lake. The Biological Field Station was recently first in the country to offer a Master of Science degree in Lake Management.

Though located far from the Chesapeake Bay itself, Otsego Lake suffers from many of the same issues threatening the estuary, like nutrient pollution and a rise in invasive species. Zebra mussels and purple loosestrife—two infamous invasive species plaguing the watershed—have overtaken much of the lake and surrounding lands. Once a rich source of shad, herring and eels, downstream dams have blocked many of these fish from migrating to the lake. But Harman and his colleagues don’t see Otsego as a closed system. As they collect their data and monitor the lake, they are actively seeking solutions that could be applied across the region.

Harman holds a flip-flop found in Otsego Lake that has been covered with invasive zebra mussels in Cooperstown, N.Y., on May 22, 2015. The invasive mussel will establish itself on any hard submerged surface and exclude other species.

Preserved cisco specimens rest inside a jar at the SUNY Oneonta Biological Field Station in Cooperstown, N.Y., on May 22, 2015. Cisco were once a dominant industry on the lake.

Nicole Pedisich, a senior biology major, retrieves largemouth bass from Moe Pond while seining with Ben Casscles, bottom right, a senior studying fisheries and aquaculture, and David Busby, a junior environmental science major, at the SUNY Oneonta Biological Field Station in Cooperstown, N.Y., on May 22, 2015.

Casscles, left, and Busby pump the stomach contents of a largemouth bass collected from Moe Pond. The team observed this individual had eaten mostly macroinvertebrates.

Harman walks along a closed boardwalk at Goodyear Swamp Sanctuary. The Biological Field Station has had to close access to the swamp due to a lack of funds for maintenance.

Goodyear Swamp Sanctuary in Cooperstown, N.Y., offers five acres of conserved wetlands. The land was donated by Tom Goodyear, who also donated farmland for the site of the nearby Alice Busch Opera Theater in Cooperstown.

A snapping turtle rests just below the surface at Goodyear Swamp Sanctuary.

A leaf-eating beetle crawls on a heavily-devoured purple loosestrife plant at Goodyear Swamp Sanctuary. The non-native leaf beetle was successfully introduced to combat the invasive purple loosestrife, which has in turn experienced a severely diminished presence at Goodyear Swamp.

Biology seniors Jill Darpino, left, and Genna Schlicht, right, eat lunch with Assistant Professor Florian Reyda during a break from their parasitology field course at the Biological Field Station’s Upland Interpretive Center at Thayer Farm.

A pair of taxidermied passenger pigeons reside at Thayer Farm. Many specimens owned by SUNY Oneonta decorate the Biological Field Station’s facilities.

A student extracts a parasite from a fish specimen caught earlier in the day on Otsego Lake.

Kristen Dispensa, a senior biology major, examines a dissected fish specimen with Assistant Professor Florian Reyda inside the Thayer Farm's Hop House Parasitology and Entomology Laboratory.

A disease-resistant Princeton elm tree, right, grows at the edge of Thayer Farm, which is actively farmed and studied. Thayer Farm's 256 acres were donated to the Biological Field Station by Rufus Thayer, a descendant of William Thayer, who established the farm around the start of the 1800s.

To view more photos, visit the Chesapeake Bay Program’s Flickr page.

Images and captions by Will Parson
Text by Stephanie Smith

Will Parson's avatar
About Will Parson - Will is the Multimedia Specialist for the Chesapeake Bay Program. A native of Bakersfield, California, he acquired an interest in photojournalism while studying ecology and evolution at University of California, San Diego. He pursued stories about water and culture as a graduate student at Ohio University's School of Visual Communication, and as an intern at several newspapers in New England before landing in Maryland.



Oct
06
2011

What did 2011 weather conditions mean for the Chesapeake Bay?

Hurricanes, earthquakes, a freezing cold winter and a blistering hot summer – 2011 has been an interesting year for weather in the Chesapeake Bay region. Scientists with the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center have written some preliminary thoughts about the bizarre weather and its link to conditions in the Bay in a post on SERC’s blog, Shorelines.

Flooded river after Tropical Storm Lee (Image courtesy Iris Goldstein/Flickr)

While SERC tends to focus on the long-term picture rather than brief snapshots, this year has prompted more than a few raised eyebrows among our scientists. What does it mean for the environment? What does it mean for Chesapeake Bay? And can any of it be linked to climate change?

Visit SERC’s blog to read more about the link between 2011 weather and the Chesapeake Bay.

Image courtesy Iris Goldstein/Flickr



410 Severn Avenue / Suite 112
Annapolis, Maryland 21403
Tel: (800) YOUR-BAY / Fax: (410) 267-5777
Directions to the Bay Program Office
Terms of Use | Privacy Policy
©2012 Chesapeake Bay Program | All Rights Reserved