As a new Ph.D student starting in January, it’s been a challenging first few months learning about (and remembering) the various graduate students, professors and their research here at UBC. As someone new to Vancouver and even Canada, I was completely unaware of what other universities were close by, let alone who and what was being studied in my own (new) backyard.  However, an opportunity arose to go to the Pacific Ecology & Evolution Conference (PEEC) hosted by the University of British Columbia at the Bamfield Marine Science Center and little did I know this experience would change just that.

The view of Vancouver Island from the ferry.

PEEC is held each year at Bamfield, located on Vancouver Island and run by a consortium of universities in Western Canada (Simon Fraser University, University of Alberta, University of British Columbia, University of Calgary and University of Victoria). The aim of PEEC is to bring together graduate and advanced undergraduate students from Western Canadian and American universities to share their research in the fields of ecology and evolution. I’m used to attending international marine science conferences where big names in marine conservation are in attendance and I’m the lowly person on the totem pole. However, the nice thing about PEEC was that with only university students in attendance – we were the people to meet.

 View from 2^nd ferry to the Bamfield Marine Science Center.

My first surprise was the actual trip to get to the research station. Yes I knew Bamfield was on Vancouver Island and the only way to get to the island was by ferry. Little did I know that after the first ferry, the voyage would involve a 90-minute car-ride, followed by another 3-hour ferry! Most of the main cities on Vancouver Island are accessible by car; however outside of these areas the only roads are those from commercial logging activities, with half of those in disrepair. The village of Bamfield is in a remote area, located in a protected inlet on the west side of Vancouver Island. The second 3-hour ferry was organized specifically for PEEC and provided the first opportunity to meet my peers attending the conference. 

Participants at PEEC on the ferry to Bamfield.

The laid back atmosphere of the Bamfield Marine Science Center provided the right forum for students to get to know one another and the ongoing research at the different universities. I learned about some interesting work on lionfish at SFU, coral reef fish at University of Victoria, and even work of peers, now friends, at UBC on marine spatial planning, salmon fisheries, and diversity in seagrass meadows.

Saturday afternoon I attended an optional workshop on Science Communication hosted by Laurel Johnson of the Vancouver Aquarium. The goal of the workshop was to focus on the content of our research and how we communicate to a broad audience. The best part of the workshop was becoming a kid again to perform some experiments in the name of learning by doing. 

My team at the communication workshop.

Here’s my team trying to figure out why the red dye is sitting on the surface in one cup and spreading throughout in the other.  (Answer it’s because one is salt water and the other is tap water. The different densities of the water cause the dye to react differently.)

The mysterious red dye that sits at the surface in one cup and spread throughout in the other.

After a day of presentations, networking and working on communication skills, a relaxing evening was to follow with the annual PEEC dance and costume contest. Similar to the TV show America’s Next Top Model, the theme of the costume contest was “Next Top Model Organism”, where people dressed in their most creative and interpretive meanings of their favorite organism. I’m proud to say the “Seahorse” was dubbed the next Top Model Organism after an epic dance- off between the flatworm, jellyfish and myself. 

And the next top model organism is…the seahorse!

PEEC was a fantastic way for me to get to know my peers both at UBC and at other universities in the Vancouver area. I would recommend it to any grad student – it’ll be the most relaxing and enjoyable conference you ever go to!  

A weedy seadragon feeding. Photo: Keith Martin-Smith/Project Seahorse

As part of our "Year of the Water Dragon" feature, I sat down with Dr. Keith Martin-Smith, a former research fellow and honorary research associate with Project Seahorse, to talk about his work on the beautiful and elusive seadragon. His scholarly articles and photographs have been published in Oryx, Fish Biology, and on BBC Nature, among other places. See also our gallery of seadragon images, fun facts page, and a recent scholarly article. 

First of all, what makes seadragons unique?

Seadragons are arguably the most charismatic members of the seahorse family, primarily because of their outrageous colour patterns in the weedy seadragon and their amazing camouflage for the leafy seadragon. They have extremely brightly coloured eggs that they carry underneath the tail and which gradually become covered in algae over the course of their development. 

Weedy seadragons gather in large groups of 20 or more individuals to breed, akin to ‘lekking’ behaviour in some land animals. They also have a fascinating ‘mirroring’ behaviour during courtship where the male and female hold their bodies in identical postures but in mirror image of each other. I have also occasionally seen female-female pairs performing the same display. Whether this is competitive behaviour or mistaken identity I’m not sure!

What is the connection between seahorses and seadragons?

Seahorses and seadragons are all in the same family of fishes, the Syngnathidae, and share a number of common features such as the long, tubular snout, reduced fins, male pregnancy and hard, external body plates. They live in similar, shallow coastal habitats and are similar ecologically, feeding on small crustaceans and with restricted home range.

How many species of seadragon are there and what differentiates them? 

There are two species of true seadragon – the weedy or common seadragon, Phyllopteryx taeniolatus, and the leafy seadragon, Phycodurus eques. The weedy seadragon has a complex pattern of purple stripes on the ‘neck’ region and hundreds of yellow spots on the side of the abdomen, the head, the snout and the tail while the leafy seadragon is mostly brown and green with white stripes on the abdomen when living in shallow water or reddish in deeper water. The leafy has many frondose appendages while the leafy has simpler appendages. A third species, the ribboned pipefish, Haliichthys taeniophorus, is sometimes called the ribboned seadragon or tropical seadragon. Confusingly, the pipehorses, Solegnathus spp., are known as hai long or sea dragons in traditional Chinese medicine.

Click the image to watch weedy seadragons disappear into their habitat. Video: Keith Martin-Smith/Project Seahorse

How did you come to study these animals?

I’ve been working with seadragons since 2001 at sites in southern Tasmania. Initially, with some students, we developed techniques for tagging seadragons with visible implant fluorescent elastomer (VIFE), a coloured substance injected under the skin in a variety of body locations to uniquely identify individuals. We also used surface-towed GPS units in waterproof housings to establish the home range of individuals. Then, in 2004-05, I collaborated with Jaime Sanchez-Camara, a seadragon researcher from Spain who had been working on weedy seadragons around Sydney.

We used our combined data to show that seadragons in colder waters grow more slowly, breed later in the year and live longer than individuals in warmer waters. In 2009, on a recreational dive, I noticed that one of the seadragons that I’d seen still had VIFE tags from 2004. This re-stimulated my interest in seadragons and I began a study to see if we could use the spot patterns on the abdomen to uniquely identify individuals — something that I have since confirmed over a period of three years.

In fact, I’m still regularly seeing the first individuals that I photographed and I can identify all of the seadragons at my regular dive sites. Some of these individuals still have their VIFE tags from 2004-05 in 2012, seven or eight years later, which suggests that they can live a long time. My data predicts that they can live more than 12 years in the wild. I’ve also found that the males carry two broods a year here in Tasmania and all of them start the first pregnancy at the same time.

A pair of male seadragons. Eggs are visible on their brood patch on their tails. Photo: Keith Martin-Smith/Project Seahorse

Where are they found, geographically, and in what kinds of habitats?

Leafy seadragons have a very restricted distribution, only found on the southern coast of Australia in the states of Western Australia, South Australia and Victoria while the weedy seadragon has a wider distribution extending from Perth in Western Australia to Sydney in New South Wales and around Tasmania. They both live in similar habitats - namely shallow, algae-covered rocky reefs down to perhaps 30 m.

What threats do they face and what is their IUCN Red List status? 

The major threat to both species of seadragon is habitat loss from activities such as coastal development, pollution, dredging etc. An unknown, but potentially serious threat, is related to climate change where warmer ocean conditions are allowing the spread of barren-forming sea urchins which graze large seaweeds and inhibit regeneration of kelp forests. Both species are listed as Near Threatened on the IUCN Red List.

What can seadragons tell us about evolutionary biology? What other scientific insights can they yield?

The reproductive biology of seadragons may provide insight into the evolution of male pregnancy as they have the simplest form of reproduction in the family with eggs just embedded in spongy tissue on the tail. Other reproductive aspects of seadragons remain enigmatic such as sex roles and whether they are monogamous within and between pregnancies. The extreme camouflage of the leafy seadragon is also a fascinating evolutionary development.

Finally, the growth of algae on the eggs during development but not on the body of the seadragon is a promising area for investigation – how do the seadragons remain free of fouling growth and which genes are switched on/off in the eggs?

Why do we rarely see them in aquariums? Can they be bred in captivity?

We rarely see them in aquariums for a number of reasons – they are difficult to maintain, requiring live food; the export trade from Australia is tightly controlled and they are very expensive to purchase costing many hundreds or even thousands of dollars. There is only a single individual in Australia who captures a few brooding male seadragons each year and raises the offspring for sale soley to public aquariums. Captive breeding has proved difficult but I think that there has been some recent success at the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach, CA.

How can we protect seadragons? 

Seadragons are protected by strong federal and state laws in all locations in Australia where they occur so the major contribution to protection that is needed is to ensure that habitat loss is minimised through sensitive coastal development. Marine protected areas where intact habitat is preserved and protected can obviously help.

Project Seahorse friend and colleague Adam Cormier recalls a recent excursion with spearfishers in Danajon Bank, Philippines, where our researchers work with local communities to make fishing sustainable. We’ve helped establish 34 marine protected areas in the region so far.

Mangrove trees press in thick on both sides of our little outrigger canoe as we ride out into the open ocean. As the sun begins to set and the motor coughs to life the world becomes a palette of red, orange, blue and black. 

The sun sets quickly in this part of the world and the sky soon turns grey and then black. The only light comes from Gerry’s flashlight as he sits on the prow of the boat, scanning the water for coral. From time to time he points one way or the other and his brother Edward, seated behind me, steers us accordingly. Gerry and Edward have agreed to bring me spearfishing with them. They’re friends of Project Seahorse.

After about 20 minutes Gerry makes a signal and Edward cuts the motor. I’m handed a homemade spear gun and a flashlight that I strap to my head. Gerry takes a minute to add socks and tattered ski-mask to his outfit of jogging pants and sweatshirt. He looks like Spiderman after a battle with The Lizard (if Spiderman was Filipino and always smiling). I guess when you spearfish for a living you get pretty serious about protecting yourself from jellyfish and sea urchins and such.

Jerry asks me if I’m ready. I try to act all macho and say, Of course. Truth be told I’m pretty nervous. I can’t see land or what’s under the water I’m sliding into. I’m a good swimmer, and comfortable in the ocean, but a five-hour swim in the dark is a bit of a stretch. 

As soon as we’re in I can see that the bottom is only about ten feet away. Every shape and size of coral imaginable is illuminated by the circle of light from my headlight. Gerry quickly calls me to his side. Right there he says, pointing to a cluster of coral, a rabbit fish. I don’t see anything. Right there, he says again. I dive down, still only seeing layer after layer of coral. Finally Gerry fires his spear into the exact place he pointing, coming up with a wiggling rabbitfish. He deposits this into the mesh bag at his waist. 

Over the next while this same scenario plays itself out again and again, Gerry pointing out fishes I can’t see for the coral. Finally he leaves me to it and he gets down to his night’s work. After losing and finding the boat a couple of times in the dark I quickly learn to always keep it in sight as Gerry tows it behind him. 

I fall into a rhythm, deep breath, dive, see nothing but beautiful coral, come up, find the boat, repeat. It really is an incredible experience. The night is quiet and the sea is calm, the only sounds are splashes and snorkels being cleared. We travel along a ridge back towards land. On one side the coral falls away into inky blackness, on the other there is a forest of it. Hundreds of tiny wiggling fish seem drawn to the gleam of my flashlight and they spend the night dancing around my head.

Finally, on one dive I see a fish! It’s round and yellow, the exact same color as the round and yellow coral it’s perched on. I fight the current and twist towards him, aiming my spear gun and pulling back on the thick elastics. My spear shoots out wide. I realign myself for a second shot as my lungs begin to remind me that I am not a fish. Miss again. I come up for air and when I return the fish is gone.

Spearfishing is really, really hard. It’s like playing darts underwater while holding your breath, only the dart board moves quickly and blends into the multi-coloured background as needed. Gerry and Edward and many of the communities living on the Danajon Bank — a rare and biodiverse double-barrier reef off the coast of Bohol Province, Philippines — make their living this way. It’s not easy. In recent years, dwindling resources has meant that fishers must travel further out to sea to find enough to catch. The challenge is striking a balance so that the fishing they do is sustainable for generations to come. Which is why Project Seahorse has teamed up with the communities to establish marine protected areas (no-take zones where fish stocks can replenish) around the Danajon Bank. 

After my yellow friend gets away I decide to stop trying so hard and just enjoy myself. The sky is clear and holds more stars then I’ve ever seen. I also begin to lose all track of time and start to get tired. Gerry and his brother continue to dive, coming up with fish more often than not. I try to ignore the aches in my back and arms and continue to paddle along behind the canoe. Any fish I do see seems too beautiful and too quick to try and catch.

Finally Gerry calls out to me and says it’s time to go home. I haul myself into the boat, bone-tired and actually cold for the first time since I stepped off the plane in Cebu. Both Gerry and his brother have a mesh bag full of fish. I guess they were there, hiding in plain sight for someone who knows how and where to look. As we putter back to Batasan and slide back trough the mangroves I have a new appreciation for the people who provide me with my breakfast every day. I can’t imagine a harder way to make a living then as a spearfisher. Gerry and Edward wishes me a good night and I head back through the village to the guest house where we’re staying. I’ll never look at my breakfast squid the same way.