So...what is it that you do, exactly?

Sorry for the dearth of photos...internet here (love my SmartBro USB modem!) is somewhat slow.

* Update: Decided to stop being lazy & compressed some photos

I've realized that many of my friends know that I dash away to exotic locales pretty regularly, but perhaps they don’t know what I actually do while I’m there.  Apart from working on my tan while sipping fruity cocktails while I’m taking a break from frolicking in the bright blue sea.

So...here it is: I come from a background in behavioral ecology of mammals and birds, with some oceanography thrown in thanks to 2 years of classes at Scripps Institution of Oceanography.  I’m now in the 4^th year of what will likely be a 7-year PhD (7’s my lucky number, entered 2007, graduating 2014?), and, with classes behind me, free to focus on my dissertation.  My research now focuses on the issue of “bycatch” of coastal dolphins and porpoises (“cetaceans”) in artisanal fisheries in developing countries. Bycatch is the accidental capture of non-target species in fishing gear; artisanal fisheries are generally defined as small-scale fisheries for subsistence or local markets.  Such bycatch is actually a major problem for coastal cetacean populations in developing countries, and has contributed to the significant decline of the vaquita (small porpoise in the Gulf of California) and the likely extinction of the baiji (Yangtze River dolphin).

Irrawaddy dolphin in Malampaya Sound

For my fieldwork, I’m studying a relatively little-studied species of dolphin, the Irrawaddy dolphin, that occurs in patchy populations (using that word loosely to mean geographically separated groups) throughout SE Asia.  It’s a cool species for ecological studies, just because it occurs in a variety of habitats (rivers, estuaries, inlets, coastlines), and I’m fascinated by how their social behavior and habitat use might be influenced by their habitat.  In terms of conservation, this species as a whole is ranked as “Vulnerable” by the IUCN Red List, but several “subpopulations” (i.e., geographically distinct groups) are listed as “Critically Endangered”; given their coastal and riverine range, they tend to overlap with human activity (such as artisanal fishing) and thus are particularly vulnerable to human impacts on their environment.  Also, because they do occur in small and geographically disjointed populations, the conservation ranking for the species as a whole can be misleading.  Tallying up the total number of dolphins in that species obscures the possibility that all of those small populations, individually, could decrease beyond the point of recovery; for example, 10 populations of 100 dolphins each might have a greater risk of going extinct than 1 population of 1000 dolphins.   As such, it’s vital that we understand the threats to these dolphins, and how to mitigate those threats.

Also, they are almost obnoxiously cute.  (I'm not going to deny that they are adorable and that endears them to me, but! I maintain that people who don't take marine mammalogists seriously because their study animals are cute are just plain jealous).

Apart from my pure curiosity about and attachment to this species, I’m also interested in whether local artisanal fisheries negatively impact the dolphins as a result of accidental entanglement (and subsequent death) of dolphins in fishing gear.  As part of that, I’ll be looking at the habitat use of the dolphins at some of my sites to see how they overlap with fishing grounds and other human activities. I’ll also be asking fishermen about bycatch.  But to “save the dolphins”, you can’t just focus on the dolphins – these fishing communities are poor.  That’s why I’ve taken a very sincere interest in understanding the social, cultural, and economic aspects of these fisheries, so that management and conservation can consider the entire ecosystem, including the role and needs of people.  It’s all very idealistic, and it’s very easy for me to be saddened and frustrated by the difficulties of reality, but I believe that it’s the ethical and, in the end, the most effective way to move conservation forward.

Thanks to generous collaborators, I’m able to study these dolphins and the potential impact of artisanal fisheries on them at four sites: Malampaya Sound (on Palawan, in the Philippines); Trat Province (Thailand); Mahakam River (Kalimantan, Indonesia); and the Guimaras and Iloilo Straits, also in the Philippines and where I am now.

Strong top-down management...

The Guimaras Strait site is fascinating because it is different from Malampaya Sound (where I was last year) in many ways - stronger enforcement of fishing regulations, closer proximity to major cities, and a more diverse suite of human impacts to the marine envrionment.  What’s also really cool is that the Irrawaddy dolphins (lumbalumba) here were only recently discovered to science – in 2004 (I believe), a researchers with SEAFDEC recorded their presence here based on a stranding.  Dr. Louella Dolar (who has truly been a spectacular mentor for me and has helped me enter the Southeast Asian cetacean research community) has been conducting research on this population (using that term loosely) over the past few years, and her team (which I’m excited to be a small part of), including Silliman master’s student Mark, is still trying to figure out where exactly the dolphins go.  Interviews with fishers can provide valuable information on their historic and present range. I've been on two dolphin surveys here with Louella et al. (also known as "Team Lumbalumba"), and it's been very exciting to learn more about this population.

The coastline of Pulupandan and Bago – part of the Guimaras and Iloilo Straits site, and where I'm working now - is not the most postcard-picture beautiful place.  The sea seems constantly turbulent this time of year, stirred by constant, cleansing, otherworldly wind that, together with the input from the nearby Bago River, renders the water a milky brown (I guess that’s what you get when you focus on a dolphin species that likes turbid water…sometimes I wish they preferred crystal-clear water over coral reefs).  The beaches are strewn with trash.  And poverty is painfully obvious in the fishing villages.  

But…I find a sort of charm in these villages.  Snippets of beauty catch my eye…clothes drying in the wind and sun, giggling children playing, gossamer-like nets hanging off of lines and bamboo fences, bright curtains and vividly painted walls and technicolor boats, graceful palm trees, all under the brilliant and still sun.  The same type of beauty has enchanted me in fishing villages elsewhere in the Philippines and in Madagascar.  I’d love to spend some time focusing on improving my photography skills so that I can one day make an exhibition showcasing the beauty of these communities.

I may not be languidly strolling on white-sand beaches in my bikini and brightly colored sarong while unbelieveably brilliant turquoise water washes over my feet (though you could be forgiven for thinking that, since I do that during the few vacation days I allow myself), but I’m still doing something that I find fascinating in pretty amazing places.  Maybe someday this work will make some kind of a contribution to conservation...