StellerWatch

From September 2004 to September 2005, AquaNews brings you news from the remote South West Brothers Island in Alaska, where a small but intrepid group of scientists is studying populations of Steller sea lions.

I'm back in Vancouver and facing the product of 13 months of field research: millions of carefully recorded letters and numbers that (I hope) will shed light on my study. At the heart of my Master's thesis is a single, complex question: what are the seasonal and daily activity levels and haulout patterns of the Steller sea lions at Southwest Brothers Island?

To answer part of this question, I'm using information from the island's weather station to determine whether environmental factors such as air temperature, heat index and wind speed affect the number of animals that haul out on shore.

Sea lions spend a lot of time foraging at sea and traveling between sites, but they come ashore to rest, give birth, and socialize. While ocean temperature is fairly constant year-round, the weather conditions on land can be highly variable in southeast Alaska. The challenge for most pinniped species (seals & sea lions) is to conserve body heat in the water and disperse it on land.

During winter storms and other extreme weather, sea lions may benefit more from foraging in the water rather than being exposed to the elements on land. This was often the case in the winter: when thick ice covered the haulout, the only animals we saw hauled out were usually nursing females with their young (Steller pups do not suckle in the water, so in order to receive mom's milk they may be forced to brave adverse weather).

Another element of my study involved analyzing how and when young sea lions are weaned from their mother's milk. It also involves studying the frequency of late-term abortions by nursing females. This is a complicated subject that may hold an important clue to understanding why sea lions have declined in other parts of Alaska. Our observations revealed two interesting trends: a high number of 1-2 year-olds that continued to suckle, and a high number of late-term abortions.

Under normal circumstances, a female sea lion nurses a pup for a year, after which time the pup is weaned and learns to catch fish while the mother gives birth to a new pup. But if the number of prey fish decreases during this critical transition time, the weaned pup faces "nutritional stress" and its chance of survival drops.

Instead of having a new pup every year, which may face nutritional stress at the time of weaning, another reproductive strategy may be to have fewer, healthier pups. Nursing a pup for longer than a year may reduce the effects of nutritional stress on the juvenile and increase its chances of surviving to sexual maturity (this, in turn, might help to increase the reproductive "fitness" of the entire population). But because a female can't support two pups at once, the body may decide to spontaneously abort the fetus in order to continue nursing the year-old pup, which has a higher chance of survival.

Thus, a high proportion of Steller sea lions in southeast Alaska may be giving birth every other year, rather than annually as previously thought. Such a reduction in birth rates could significantly curtail population growth: if females are giving birth every second or third year, the population numbers will grow slower but the young animals may be healthier at independence.

I will present some of these results at the Society for Marine Mammalogy conference in San Diego in December. By spring 2006, I aim to be finished my thesis and will begin publishing the results in peer-reviewed journals. This information will then be added to the growing body of knowledge about Steller sea lions and general pinniped behaviour.

Understanding the Big Picture

Behaviour is the link between an organism and its environment - it is a tool by which animals adapt to a changing world - and I feel fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend so much time in the field watching Stellers in their natural environment. Thirteen and-a-half months on a remote island in southeast Alaska may seem a daunting task, but field research is always a combination of planning, cooperation and luck, especially when faced with remote locations and harsh environments. I was extremely fortunate to have a fantastic field crew, excellent logistical support and academic supervision from the University of British Columbia, and encouragement from my friends and family.

I would like to thank Pamela Rosenbaum (logistical coordinator); Andrew Trites (supervisor); Morgan Davies, Brooke Campbell, Jennifer Provencher, and Joshua Biro (field crew); Marina Winterbottom (data entry) and the many other people who have given support along the way, especially my best friend, Aerin Jacob.

I hope this "Steller Watch" series has helped to inspire interest not only in the Steller sea lion, but also the many other species and ecosystems on our planet. Alaska's marine ecosystem is one of the few healthy marine ecosystems left on Earth, and by understanding the health of large marine mammals like Steller sea lions, we hope to gain insights into the health of the system as a whole. This will help us to achieve and maintain a healthy balance between ecosystem health and human interest, which can only benefit present and future generations.

My final tour of duty on South West Brothers Island was my shortest, ironically, but it was busy. My return at the beginning of July marked the first time the on-island Steller Watch team had been composed of two males, and Josh's enthusiastic nature made the final month of the project a pleasure. We arrived back in Vancouver in early August after ending our data collection and breaking down camp.

I have explained previously that the Steller Watch project might be extended, depending on whether the sea lions moved in August from the main haulout to the beaches on the North and West sides of the island. They did last year, and we wondered whether this was a chance occurrence. If they remained at the main haulout this August, our team would have reached its goal of collecting a year of continuous data from one location. But if they moved, it would have supported the theory that this mid-summer, trans-island movement occurs naturally.

Well, they moved: several sea lions hauled out onto the West Beach around the 20th of July, sparking a mass movement to the island's North and West beaches. By the time we left on August 6, there were 500-600 sea lions hauling out primarily on the North end beach, and only about 50 stragglers left at the main haulout.

The sea lion migration prompted us to start breaking down camp and moving off the island. We dismantled our beloved cabin piece by piece and transported it via boat back to Juneau, where it and our research blind would be used by Alaska Department of Fish and Game for future research. We actually had to sleep in tents for the final couple of nights on the island, which was a shock considering we had been living in the relative comfort of our "Steller Palace" for the past year!

We spent our final hours meticulously combing over the areas on the island we had used during our time there; it was important to leave everything as close to its natural state as when we first arrived in July 2004. Our presence wrought no permanent damage to the island, and the former locations of our cabin and blind will soon be covered in the thick vegetation. The only items we left behind were two digital cameras mounted in their protective boxes: property of the Alaska Fisheries Development Foundation that take hourly photographs of the main haul-out.

In the flurry of excitement during our last few days, it was difficult to fully appreciate that our time on the island was up. I'm only now realizing that I won't be heading back out to 'our' island again, and it makes me a little sad. This sadness, however, is countered by the overwhelming feeling of accomplishment at this once-in-a-lifetime experience. I learned not only about the behaviour of Steller sea lions but also how to prepare for and conduct extended field studies. And I developed many lasting relationships with my fellow researchers, who made Steller Watch such a rewarding experience. Thanks Michelle, Brooke, Jenn and Josh!

I'm very happy to have been able to share some of my stories and experiences through these articles. I hope we were able to convey what it was like to be out there on South West Brothers Island, studying those loud but loveable Steller sea lions.

My name is Josh Biro, and I'm the newest member of the Steller Watch team. I have spent much of my life fishing and camping in remote areas of British Columbia, so this isn't a big leap from what I'm used to, but it has been a rare treat to observe the local sea lions both on land and in the water.

This is my first trip to Alaska and I'm loving every minute of it. I know I'm not alone in my love for this area because numerous tour boats visit the haulout almost every day. A few curious kayakers have come ashore to have a look around, and they are always surprised to see us here because our camp and blind are so well hidden. Visitors always seem very interested in the story of the Steller sea lion and in our research.

The Southeast Alaskan coast is very similar to that of British Columbia, except that there is wildlife here in literally every direction. I'm amazed by the diversity of plant and animal life: In the morning I can observe sea lion antics from behind the research blind, and in the afternoon I can watch bubble-feeding humpback whales just 40 feet from shore!

I have had a great first month here on the island, and I’m looking forward to spending the next five weeks with Morgan. It's the first time in this project that two guys will be on the island at the same time (don't worry, Michelle, we won't get into too much trouble!).

This month has brought more sunshine and a new researcher, Josh Biro. It was strange to meet him for the first time and then move into an 8x12' space with him five minutes later! Fortunately, Josh is keen to be here and brings with him a passion for marine life and the guitar.

The two Black Oystercatcher eggs that we have been monitoring have hatched, and two fluffy chicks with the same colouring as the eggs have emerged. We have also heard peeps from the nearby bald eagle nest.

The sea lions are doing well, but we have noticed fewer suckling juveniles and more injured animals. We have seen a lot of battle scars on the SAMs (sub-adult males) and the large bulls, who are acting more territorial now.

Unfortunately, the lone pup we observed on the local haulout last month has disappeared. We watched it for a week as it lay near its mother, but it didn’t appear to suckle at all. Its bones became more distinct and it seemed quite weak.

When the mother finally went on her first foraging trip, the pup was left alone near the bottom of the haulout. As I watched the tide rise, I knew it wouldn’t be able to climb the steep slope without help, but the other females just tossed it aside when it got in their way. The next day, it was nowhere to be seen. Sometimes pups are 'accidentally' born outside of rookeries, but they often don't survive.

The weather has been mostly sunny and one day, temperatures even climbed to a balmy 20 degrees Celsius (68 degrees Fahrenheit)! The heat is good for working on a tan, but bad for keeping perishable foods. During the winter months, the outdoors acted like a giant refrigerator and food lasted for a long time. Now, however, the blocks of ice melt within the first few days, and meat and dairy have become increasingly risky to keep. By the third week into the trip, we were forced to get creative with canned veggies and instant soups…

After subsisting on these meager rations, imagine our surprise when two locals from Juneau came ashore the other day for a visit, having reading our story on AquaNews. They had been out fishing, and gave us huge fillets of fresh halibut and a bag of large prawns that they were using as bait. As if that wasn't enough, they brought us a cooler full of salad, vegetables, fruit, chocolate, and beer!

To show our appreciation for their random act of kindness we built a campfire and cooked up a great feast. Who says we can't enjoy a few luxuries in the field?

The sun is shining, the skies are blue, and the sea lions are currently hauled out on South West Brothers Island. We are in the early stages of the sea lion breeding season, and while most mating and births occur on special sites called rookeries, it is not uncommon to see them on other haulouts. We haven't observed any mating yet on our local haulout, but we have noticed an increased presence of large bulls and sub-adult males (SAMs) over the past month and a corresponding increase in aggressiveness between each other and toward the females.

Michelle observed the island's first pup of the year – a round mound of dark brown fur – on June 4 (ironically, this was the very same day we chose to begin classifying last year's pups as juveniles, the term for 1-4 year-olds). Newborn pups and their mothers usually stay on the rookery for several weeks or longer after birth, in order to build up their strength before attempting to journey to haulouts. This led us to believe the pup Michelle spotted was born here.

Now that the sea lions have returned after their lengthy spring absence, we have resumed observing the relationship between them and the local bald eagles. I recently observed an adult bald eagle returning from the open water with a fish in its talons. It actually landed in an unoccupied area of the haulout and began feeding on the fish. While this might have caused a commotion several months ago, neither the sea lions nor the eagle seemed too concerned with each other on this occasion. If I were to speculate, I would say that the combination of readily available food sources and the decreased probability of female sea lions aborting on the haulout might have something to do with it; many pregnant females are either at or en route to rookeries to give birth. Whatever the case, it seems that the sea lions have been granted a temporary reprieve from the eagles' aerial assaults.

With summer just around the corner, the number of tour operations and private boats coming to view the sea lions has risen considerably. Most boats are conscious of the fact they're around wild animals and keep a reasonable distance. We've even had a cruise ship pass by the haulout, which provided a surreal contrast between the nearby sea lions lazing on the rocks and the huge, white floating city behind them.

Not all the boats navigating the waters around the island are out on tourist excursions. In fact, many are either recreational or commercial fishing vessels. It is unfortunate that Steller sea lions find baited hooks and other fishing paraphernalia so irresistible: we have suddenly seen an increased number of animals with 'flashers' hanging from their mouths, indicating they have swallowed a hook and line, while the mouths of others are pierced with halibut hooks. One of the most unpleasant sights is finding all types of sea lions – from pups to adult males – with nylon packing straps looped around their necks. These straps are typically used to hold the lids on bait boxes or to tie together several boxes, and they often find their way into the water. Once looped around an animal's neck, the unforgiving nylon slowly cuts into the flesh as the animal grows, until it can eventually no longer eat or breathe. The ensuing death is anything but quick, and to helplessly watch a subdued and emaciated animal in this obviously painful condition is heart wrenching.

I'm happy to report that the Steller Watch project has been extended a couple of months beyond its original end date of mid-July. Staying on the island until late August or early September will allow us to determine whether the movement of the sea lions we observed last August from the main haulout to the island's northern and western reaches was a chance occurrence. If the animals remain at the main haulout this August, then we will have reached our goal of collecting a year's worth of continuous data from one location. But if they move, we will have collected further evidence that supports the idea that this mid-summer, trans-island movement occurs annually. Either scenario will provide us with valuable new information.

It's amazing how familiar South West Brothers Island has become to me, even though I have only spent a total of five months here. I just returned from a three-month research phase in Vancouver, but the second I set foot on the island and smelled the air I knew I was home.

Spring is in full swing up here, and everything is green and growing. On a clear, sunny day it can be Paradise here—such a drastic contrast from the dark, bleak winter we shivered through a few months ago! We have dozens of species of wild flowers, including many colourful alpine varieties ranging from Blue Lupine, Pink Shooting Star, and Yellow Buttercup to Red Indian Paintbrush and Red Columbine. The animals are feeling the pull of spring and are busy courting, building nests and establishing territory. The other day, while Morgan and I were out exploring, we nearly stumbled upon an Oystercatcher nest containing two grey eggs with black speckles. The pair of normally chatty birds guarding the nest fell silent as they watched us carefully inspect their home.

Of course, the local sea lions are also busy matchmaking. The bulls and SAMs (sub-adult males) have been fighting, wrestling, and growling at each other. The females are displaying affection with vicious bites to the bulls' enormous necks. We are watching a year-round haulout, which means pups aren't usually born here (all the pregnant females go to other sites known as rookeries), but we got a great surprise the other day when we noticed a newborn pup! Its mother was hauling it around by the scruff of the neck and being very defensive: like most newborns, he was still quite wobbly on land.

The humpbacks whales have returned from spending the winter in Mexico, where they give birth in tropical waters, and they have been swimming past the island nearly every day. Yesterday, when a group of them came quite close to the haulout, the juvenile sea lions in the water began porpoising and diving with them.

Morgan and I have been enjoying the unusually sunny weather and extended daylight hours (sunrise at 4 a.m., sunset at 9:45 p.m.). There have only been a couple of downpours this month, so our rain barrels are looking a little dry. But we can't complain; as we toss the frisbee around on the beach after work, the only thing missing is a cooler of cold drinks! Hope you're all enjoying the start of summer in 'civilization.'

For the past month we have been busily counting sea lions, observing their behaviour, and recording and photographing identification brands on roughly 100 to 300 animals. Life on the haulout is almost always lively and entertaining, but as the mating season approaches we have noticed the generally slothful bulls becoming more aggressive and the younger animals playfighting more.

Humpback whales have also returned to the area—we can hear their deep exhalations as they travel past the island. We have taken dozens of new photos of their distinctive dorsal fins and the occasional tail fluke. Against the majestic backdrop of Fredrick Sound and the snow-capped mountains of Admiralty Island, the whales add that extra bit of beauty to our already spectacular sunsets.

Southwest Brothers Island is fully decked out in spring finery and littered with wildflowers. The forest looks like a jungle of Devil's Club, False-Lily-of-the-Valley and various ferns and shrubs. The conifer trees are full of pollen cones, and when the resident Bald Eagles land in the treetops they send great clouds of yellow pollen into the wind and onto the rocks below. Not so terrific for my allergies, but I can't complain too loudly about sneezing in a place as beautiful as this.

Camp life is a regular routine of cooking, cleaning, and keeping all the equipment in working order. The sparrows have become quite brazen around the cabin; after discovering one in the porridge pot one morning we now keep our dishes overturned outside until they can be washed. The elusive biting creatures in my sleeping bag, which I more than suspect are spiders, ensure that my legs are never bite-free. At last count I have 12 bites on my legs while Morgan has yet to receive a single one—he is understandably unapologetic about the situation.

I am leaving tomorrow and will spend this afternoon copying photos and data to CD, double-checking our data sheets, tidying the cabin, and packing. I have enjoyed my time here as always, but I look forward to seeing my family again. Writing these updates for Aquanews was fun, but this may be my last.

After a month off, I arrived back on the island to an empty haulout. According to Brooke, the sea lions had vacated the island near the end of March and only made brief appearances throughout the month of April. But since they continued to haul out at two other locations around the island, we could still visually locate them and conduct modified ‘counts.’ The first site, approximately 1.5 kilometres west into Frederick sound, was on the shores of a tiny island (even smaller than ours!) we dubbed Beacon Rock. The other haulout was on the south point of West Brothers Island, approximately 500 metres directly across from our Cabin beach.

On several days we didn’t see or hear a single sea lion, even at their interim locations, but we often saw individuals or small groups swim past our local, temporarily abandoned haulout. They would make questioning vocalizations as they passed, extending their necks in an effort to spot any of their kin on the haulout.

Obviously, there wasn’t much we could do in this situation. There were no overt reasons why the sea lions had left or why they stayed away. Nevertheless, we continued our study, and the many zeroes on April’s data sheets are still important information that wouldn’t have otherwise been collected. They may yet provide additional clues to the numerous mysteries of Steller sea lions.

One morning, I ventured onto the abandoned haulout to investigate whether a dead animal or other debris might be spooking the sea lions and keeping them away. I carefully explored the rocky nooks and crannies to better understand the terrain these animals negotiate while hauled out of their natural element. As luck would have it, I found a backpack computer unit that the Alaska Department of Fish and Game (ADF&G) mounts on some sea lions as part of their monitoring studies. It was wedged between two boulders and had obviously been there for a long time. Little did I know just how long; when I reported my find to our headquarters I learned the unit was at least six years old! I’m sending it back to ADF&G (minus most of the barnacles) and hopefully it will provide some useful information about the animal it was attached to.

Thankfully, the sea lions returned in full force during the last weekend of April and have since maintained a strong presence.

Last night, we were lucky enough to be visited by the passing ADF&G boat, the Kestrel. They were on their way north to Hobart Bay to continue their herring surveys for Southeast Alaska, and they gave us a call on the radio to offer showers and a 'care package.' I don’t think Brooke or myself have moved so fast in a long time!

An hour later we were back on our island, fresh and clean, with ice cream in our bellies, a box of fresh fruit, and three dungeness crabs for our evening meal. We fell asleep with smiles on our faces. The crew of the Kestrel also kindly allowed us to fill up our fresh water supply, which had become very low due to the dry weather. As usual, the warm hospitality and generous nature of our friends at ADF&G provided yet another fond memory here on South West Brothers—thanks, guys!

Brooke is returning to the city tomorrow, and the sea lions and I will warmly welcome the return of our fearless leader, Michelle. I guess I better clean up the place!

For most people, the life of an onion contains little excitement. Many of us eat onions that have traveled only a few hundred kilometres from their birthplace; homegrown onions may only travel 25 meters from the garden to the dinner table. Unlike these vegetables, however, the onions we eat here on South West Brothers Island have a much longer and more interesting story. You might say our island's onions are as intrepid as its researchers.

Our onions first take root in California. When an onion has matured enough for the trip, it is plucked from the earth and starts its migration. It first travels north along the California coast by road, eventually feeling the curving roads of Oregon and Washington State beneath the tires of its carriage.

But the real journey begins from Seattle, as the onions and countless other food items are loaded onto 'floating cities' heading north. This is how Juneau, the capital of Alaska, feeds her people: she is dependent on her southern cousins living across an international border. Produce, baking goods, cereals, breads, spices, laundry soap, mops, shoes, clothing, and other essentials travel to Juneau along the Inside Passage.

The Inside Passage is the longest stretch of protected waterways in the world. It begins along Seattle's Puget Sound and into the Canadian waters of the Strait of Georgia. It then follows the East Coast of Vancouver Island until Queen Charlotte Sound, where it leaves the sheltered coast for the vast openness of the Pacific Ocean. Further north, it passes the Queen Charlotte Islands, or Haida Gwaii, a land of rich cultural history. Once past these islands, the ships and their cargo re-enter American waters and continue northward through Dixon Entrance toward the Southeast Alaskan archipelago. Onion-bearing ships pass by Clarence Strait, Chatham Strait, Stephens Passage, Frederick Sound and Summer Strait along the route to their final destination: Juneau.

The days are noticeably shorter and the nights are colder in Juneau. Our layered friend finds itself in the produce section of the local Safeway, where a jetlagged Steller sea lion researcher places it into a cart carrying enough goods to feed two field biologists over a month of isolation. As the groggy researcher checks her list twice, the onion is paid for and bagged.

The onion rides to the airport and is safely whisked to its new home in the back of a seaplane. It flies out over Stephens Passage, passes through Tongass National Forest, along Admiralty Island and to South West Brothers Island. There, the onion is unpacked into a box that sits under the counter until it is called upon.

Life in the box is quiet until the hungry Steller sea lion researchers decide to prepare a gourmet dinner - then the onion is remembered and freed. Its innards are consumed but the skins are set aside in the compost bucket. Fruit peels and coffee grinds are added, and in a few days the full bucket is taken to the intertidal zone, where the gulls have learned that the silver bowl means a guaranteed meal. The outgoing tide returns the onion skin to the familiar waters it has already navigated by boat and plane.

Riding the ebb tide, it escapes the marauding gulls and visits a few tidepools where scuplins and hermit crabs peck at it along the way. (It also sees the harbour seals spying on the researchers' cabin and taking down notes). Once it moves out into the currents, it passes the days with the plankton. Almost all sea life starts here, in a microscopic nursery where baby sand dollars and barnacles bump into each other. Eventually, the onion settles on the bottom where it decomposes in peace, releasing precious nutrients to be taken up by other critters.

A true West Coast vagabond, our onion has traveled from California to Alaska. Few of us are so well traveled! My tummy rumbles as I write this, telling me it must be time for dinner-and time to release another vegetable into the watery passages of Frederick Sound, on the final leg of its journey.

We have seen no sea lions on the entire island for the past two weeks. Other than the occasional visiting sea lion on a reconnaissance mission from Elsewhere, we have seen neither hide nor hair of our charges.

We are sea lion researchers attempting to count and study the behaviour of a conspicuously absent subject; the irony of this situation is not lost on us. Nevertheless, we trundle daily to the blind for our Steller Watch shifts in the hopes that the South West Brothers haulout will once again be the happening hangout it was just weeks ago.

Despite the weather's attempts to keep spring at bay (such as snowing on the first day of spring and then icing up for the subsequent week), the new shoots and buds that have appeared on the island over the course of the past month have held up well against the last vestiges of winter. As a result, we are now enjoying flowering blueberry and salmonberry all over the island.

The birds of our Island range from bald eagles to winter wrens, and are busy building new nests, tidying old ones, soliciting mates and noisily defending their territories. The seabirds have also followed suit, with the notable exception of Mathilda, our lame yet fiercely independent surf scoter (see Jenn's article below - Ed.). The harbour seals are still keeping tabs on us and we've had a couple of swim-bys from Pacific white-sided dolphins and harbour porpoises.

Another indication that spring is finally here is the new abundance of moths, spiders, mosquitos, and slugs. The score to date is Brooke: 1, Mosquitos: 0, but I'm afraid the spiders, who seem to have a penchant for hanging out in my sleeping bag, are quickly evening out the score for the biting bugs.

Jenn leaves in a couple of days and is being replaced by Morgan, with whom I will be spending a month and a half before I return home. I have enjoyed getting to know Jenn and I will miss her lively stories, knitting tips, and impromptu intertidal invertebrate lessons.

My grandfather loved birds. I remember growing up in Ontario’s cottage country, watching him sit for hours and stare through the window overlooking the trees and the lake, diligently circling every bird he spotted in his plastic-covered Audubon bird book. Each spring, we set up the bird feeders in view of the window so grandpa could see them well. I would sit with him, mini-broom in hand, ready to run to the feeders and chase away squirrels and chipmunks before they scared the birds and stole the food.

But as a little girl I only ever wanted to swim in the lake, and I often had to be dragged up to the cottage for dinner. Perhaps Ontario didn’t have the right type of birds to interest a girl who was half fish. As an adult, however, the seabirds of the Pacific Coast have suddenly piqued my interest like no birds before them. While I came to South West Brothers Island for the sea lions, I am leaving an avid birder.

The Island is a perfect place for bird watching, and in my considerable free time I have set out to learn the birds of the area while I am here. Every day I look through the National Geographic bird book that lives on a shelf at the blind where we watch the sea lions, and what started out as a small project has rapidly become an obsession.

I first identified all the birds that swim into Sea Lion Cove. There are the beautiful Harlequin Ducks, with feathers that look as if someone painted them each morning. The Red-breasted Mergansers always come by with their feathered, combed heads that give them a permanently electrified look. Solitary Arctic Loons also venture into the cove to fish and seek shelter on blustery days. Groups of Surfbirds and Black Turnstones fly around in gangs among the rocky coastline. Black Oystercatchers call out their laugh-like trills to any that would listen, and on some days we think we might go insane from their constant twittering.

Soon I expanded my observations to other parts of the island and just off its shores. From the beaches at the north end of the island I have spotted large groups of Surf Scoters and Marbled Murrelets. The latter is a rare sight along the B.C. coast, as they are an endangered species, but they are doing well up here. I once spent over an hour observing and sketching a Pigeon Guillemot that was halfway between winter and summer plumage, and did not look at all like the picture in the book. I quickly learned that books do not often show all the different ways a bird can look throughout the year or along its range.

I have learned where to find birds in a northerly wind and in a southeasterly wind. I started to notice certain habits of the birds, like the Harlequin Ducks who were always in pairs. I even began to recognize the Pigeon Guillemots by their bouncy, seemingly uncontrolled landings on the water, and one lone female Surf Scoter by her lop-sided swimming. One of her legs seemed to be injured, but she swam and fished like the other scoters and I named her Matilda. . She frequents the cove and other beaches, and I swear that she followed us one day as we went to investigate a sea lion carcass on the haulout.

Surrounded by nature and with a camera at hand, my obsession with watching the birds has quickly turned into one of trying to photograph them. My photographs of sea lion brands and group behaviour, taken during my shifts at the blind, are always punctuated with pictures of birds. I have taken hundreds of photos and spent hours bird-watching this winter.

In my free time, I have clamored over endless rocks and trees in my quest for some of the photographs I have today. I will not claim that I do it with grace and style; being a field biologist has nothing to do with grace, you just do what you must to get the job done. For all the bad photos I have taken, I have some that I will treasure forever.

Seabirds have captured my attention, and I will continue to scramble over the shores of the West Coast to catch a glimpse of the birds that inhabit our waters. On South West Brothers Island, I have become a little girl again and finally found the passion my grandfather had had for so many years. The world is full of all types of people and all types of birds; perhaps you just have to find the right birds to discover the ornithologist within. I have finally found my birds.

Jennifer Provencher

It's early morning and I'm on duty at the blind, taking the day's first sea lion observations. It's currently overcast, calm and raining with a temperature of 5 o C (41 o F). Other than having little rain during the past month, the weather has been normal for this time of year. We have really noticed an increase in daylight throughout February, and have made good use of it by getting out for beach and forest walks!

I just finished the day's first behaviour-and-focal scans of the sea lions on the haulout, and I counted 74 animals with three pups suckling. I can see two focal animals, H374 and 77F, and I'm trying to get a photo of 77F since we haven't taken one since the beginning of the month, but a big female keeps getting in the way - I guess she really wants to be in the picture!

As for the bald eagle activity I mentioned in my last update, we observed another three feeding events around mid-February. The eagles have exhibited similar behaviour to that observed in January (flying over the haulout, perching in nearby trees or on the haulout, and vocalizing) with approximately equal intensity during the periods before and after the feeding events. We have determined that two pairs of adults and one juvenile are living on the island, but it's also possible that non-resident eagles are flying to the haulout from neighboring islands.

The other day, in a bit of ironic payback on behalf of the sea lions, I unintentionally surprised three eagles as I walked along the beach toward the blind. I came over a blind ridge to find the three very large birds (two adults and a juvenile) drinking from a freshwater pool. It would be an understatement to say both parties were rather startled! Much frantic flapping and back-peddling ensued, and then they were gone. After this experience, I have a much better appreciation of what the sea lions must see coming down over their heads!

We currently have Jenn Provencher on the island as an interim member of Team Steller Watch for February and March. Michelle was able to lure Jenn away from her job as a public educator at the Bamfield Marine Science Centre on Vancouver Island, and we're really glad to have her. We welcome her knowledge and enthusiasm, and like Brooke, she likes to knit. Hmmmm. two 'Knitting Queens' together for a month... I smell a woolly duel!

Besides the warmer temperatures and longer days, another sign that we're moving steadily towards spring is the increasing number of fishing boats we have seen from the beginning of February. We have watched a few of them through our spotting scope as they set and haul in their crab traps. It won't be too long before the tour operators and private boats are cruising around the surrounding waters to get a look at the sea lions - and, of course, the beautiful scenery of Frederick Sound.

My name is Jennifer, and I'm the newest member of the Steller Watch team on South West Brothers Island. I'm here for two months, giving the others time to process data and attend to their duties in the city (the bane of all field biologists is being recalled to town).

Here, we are surrounded by wildlife in all shapes and forms, and although we're here to study Steller sea lions, the peering eyes of the local harbour seals fascinate me. I don't claim to know harbour seals around the world, but the ones I have had the opportunity to observe have displayed some unusual tendencies. In fact, I have a theory about why they stalk the waterways along our coast: I believe they are the field biologists of the animal world. Here's why.

Their Observant Nature

Harbour seals are present whenever we walk along the beach or wade in the intertidal area, when we wake and brush our teeth, and even when we dump our dishwater. Those peering eyes and bobbing heads follow us everywhere! Even as I write this, a harbour seal is eyeing the cabin from a safe distance.

Similarly, field biologists who wish to see all aspects of an animal's life will follow it to unusual places to find out how the animal interacts with its environment. We came to South West Brothers Island to study sea lions at haulouts - the areas where they come closest to our world - and in turn, the harbour seals have found our favorite haunts and staked us out.

The Art of Blending In

The harbour seals here seem to go to great lengths to get a closer look at us. On many occasions, I have been poking around in tide pools only to realize that several pairs of eyes were watching me. The seals often approach from behind, their heads low in the water, creeping up with small movements so as to not be detected, to get a better view.

Field biologists everywhere use these same slinky movements; after all, the purpose of being in the field is to observe animals in their natural routine. Every field biologist has learned to creep and crawl through the terrain to get those rare photos and observations. Universities should offer field classes in moving silently and precisely - the harbour seals have obviously taken these classes somewhere.

It seems that not only can the harbour seals recognize me, but they can also tell when I am looking at them, even if I only turn my head slightly. And when they know that I am watching, they back away completely. I have played countless games of peek-a-boo with them as they rise out of the water to see where I have gone.

Field biologists are likewise known for their ability to peer through trees, shrubs, waves and rainstorms to view animals. I have worked with several field biologists who saw things that I could not; their awareness of the local environment and its intricacies simply helped them notice more details.

And for scientists and seals alike, it's the details that are important: the small blow on the horizon signaling a distant whale, broken shells leading to an octopus den, the subtle contrast in blade shape between two seaweed species, and the size difference between pups and juvenile sea lions on a haulout. The harbour seals of South West Brothers Island seem to be especially inquisitive, with eyes that follow and watch: the eyes of a field biologist.

So who's watching whom? We are here to observe Steller Sea Lions, but we may also be under observation. Perhaps humans are not the only ones who are curious about other species.

March 1 , 2005

We have experienced quite a spectrum of Alaskan weather since I returned to South West Brothers Island in January after a month in Vancouver. Luckily, the temperature climbed above freezing on the day of my arrival, but dense fog almost prevented our floatplane from landing next to the island. My pilot, Troy, actually turned around at one point because of the limited visibility, but we decided to make one more attempt since we were so close to the Island. I'm glad he did - the fog broke about a minute before we flew over the island, where Michelle and Brooke were waiting on the beach. After quickly unloading my bags and helping Brooke climb aboard (it's her turn for time off) we said our good-byes and watched the small floatplane disappear into the fog.

A slow increase in the total number of sea lions at the haulout over the past few months has provided us with a greater number and variety of animals for our study. We were excited when we realized that a large proportion of the recent arrivals were animals we had observed last summer. Michelle was even able to identify a known animal from body markings we had recorded at the beginning of the project, in September 2004.

We have also been fortunate to witness an interesting and rarely-observed relationship between the sea lions at the haulout and some local bald eagles. In January, we observed an increase in the number of eagles at the haulout, which currently has a high population of female Steller sea lions nursing their offspring. At first, the eagles did not concern the local sea lions, which would vocalize briefly in the direction of the intruders and then resume their normal activities. But the eagles became more aggressive as the days passed, often agitating the sea lions until they vacated the haulout and took to the water, leaving the eagles with a clear view of any objects that had been left behind on the rocks.

We quickly confirmed the intentions of the eagles once we observed three adult eagles descending onto the empty haulout to feed on an aborted sea lion fetus (spontaneous abortion is a natural but unexplained phenomenon in sea lions). For over an hour, we watched these impressive birds feeding, while the displaced sea lions vocalized loudly from several metres away in the water. The sea lions returned to the haulout about 20 minutes after the eagles left, but over the next week we repeatedly observed eagles surveying the haulout and spooking the animals.

From what I understand, there have been no directed studies on the relationship between pregnant sea lions naturally aborting their fetuses and eagles seizing the opportunity to feed on the high protein food source, but this behaviour has been repeatedly reported by researchers in southeast Alaska. I observed this relationship while working on another study in this area last winter, and so far the sea lions and eagles on this island are exhibiting similar behaviour. I'm curious to see how often it occurs and for how long.

As far as camp life goes, Michelle and I have had another fun month together. We've been pleasantly surprised at how quickly the days are lengthening; when you only have a couple of propane lamps and a headlamp each, any extra light is noticeable. The added daylight has lifted our spirits and given us a much needed energy boost, which I have put to good use exploring along our beaches and doing a bit of spring maintenance (that's right, I said spring - we take whatever we can get around here!). All in all, we've had lots of laughs and many moments of camaraderie that are so important out here in the field.

It's hard to believe that seven months have passed since we arrived at South West Brothers Island to begin this project, and it's amazing how things here have changed in such a short time. Many scientists only conduct field research during the warmer summer months, but our year-long project has given us the advantage of watching the island change with the seasons.

The other night, Morgan and I were looking at photos we took of the camp back in July. Not only has the camp changed, but the island itself has taken on a completely different look. Our surroundings have gone from a lush rainforest, rich in colour and thick in vegetation, to a comparatively barren winter landscape.

Just as the island has its natural cycles, so too do the lives of the local sea lions. Recently, we witnessed an important natural event in sea lion reproduction, which was marked by the curious arrival of some eagles on the island. The eagles lurked near the haulout, occasionally landing and causing the sea lions to stampede into the water, but we soon realized that the eagles had actually arrived to feed on a miscarried fetus and placenta from a female sea lion. It was gruesome, as nature often can be, but fascinating at the same time.

Researchers aren't sure why or how often spontaneous abortion takes place among sea lions. Some evidence points to lack of adequate nutrition in the diet; perhaps some biological 'decision' is made about whether to nurse the current offspring for another year or to have another pup and wean the yearling. This is just another of the mysteries around Steller sea lions that scientists are working to unravel.

We had some snow over Christmas, but a prolonged snowfall in January delivered over a foot of sugary-fine snow that carpeted everything, giving the island a soft, wintry feeling - despite the -18°C (-1°F) wind chill! A short spell of warmer weather sparked a brief thaw, but temperatures inevitably plummeted again, turning the island into a giant sheet of ice.

The frozen trees, trails and rocks were manageable (and even fun, at times), but the danger came when the temperature once again warmed up - this time accompanied by a ferocious wind. Trees and branches that had strained under the weight of the snow and ice were released of their burdens, and they rained down softball-sized 'ice missiles' all over the island.

We hunkered down inside our cabin and listened to the snapping of branches and the noisy barrage of ice on our tin roof. Every day it seemed new branches and trees had fallen over from the strain. Fortunately, no one was squashed or injured! Since then, the weather has been rather mild and pleasant, and thankfully the ice carnage has ended.

We're experiencing a cold snap right now, and temperatures are reaching minus nine degrees Fahrenheit in full sunshine. Needless to say, the idea of exposing my body to the outside air for a bath does not appeal in the slightest. You know you've been in the field too long when a full wipe-down with Wet Wipes and a hairbrush feels like a trip to the spa!

Until today, a nasty north wind has blown straight at our little cabin on the north side of the island. This wind has been largely responsible for freezing everything that contains water in the cabin, including us, and has made trips to the bathroom rather unpleasant. We have taken to sleeping in additional layers, and we sleep in the next day's work shirts so that we don't have to give up the body heat in the morning. A hot bowl of oatmeal is our breakfast staple, and boot skating around on the iced-up beach in front of the cabin has become our favourite free-time activity.

Christmas this year was low-key but pleasant. Family and friends sent up much-appreciated letters, gifts and treats, and Michelle and I listened to Christmas carols on the only short-wave radio station that is consistently clear: a Christian radio station out of Petersburg. Dinner consisted of stove-top stuffing, canned yams and corn, instant mashed potatoes, and turkey sausage. New Year's Eve also came and went quietly, and both Michelle and I have resolved to seriously cut down our chocolate consumption.

In three days, I will leave for Vancouver for some time off, and I am very much looking forward to a hot shower and a cold beer - although not at the same time, obviously.

It's a sunny afternoon on South West Brothers Island and I'm on duty, writing this between sea lion counts behind the blind that hides us from their view. Today's sunny weather is a nice break from the usual clouds and rain, and I feel like a mole unaccustomed to light; I'm squinting through the spotting scope at the glare of wet sea lions and having a hard time distinguishing rocks from animals.

The Alaskan winter has been mild so far - the daytime temperature today dipped below freezing for the first time since I arrived in early November - but the constant wind and rain make for chilly four-hour shifts in the blind. I'm happy to be completely warm right now, despite 'only' wearing four layers of clothing.

There are about 250 sea lions at the main haul-out today - an average number for the past few weeks. Earlier today, Morgan spotted two branded sea lions that we've never seen before today, and his photos of them provided a nice change from the 'usual suspects.'

The sea lion pups born this summer have grown incredibly since I was last here in early October. Some of them are already as big as yearlings! They are entertaining to watch: chomping on each other with impunity, picking play-fights with larger juveniles, wrestling with kelp, and suckling greedily from their mothers.

I finally saw killer whales, and not just once - on three separate occasions. Twice, they were cruising past the haul-out for a snack and once, they were just gliding through Fredrick Sound, their immense dorsal fins making them look like sailboats in the distance. I tried to take some pictures, but I was so excited that I couldn't keep the camera still.

It's now mid-afternoon and it has started to snow furiously. Most of the sea lions have taken to the water and are swimming around in one big, noisy group. There are about 50 stragglers left on the haul-out, but if it keeps snowing this hard, there won't be enough light left to do my next count!

Research in the Dark: "Squint, refocus, squint, refocus."

It's hard to believe it's January already. Over the past month,we have counted an average of 200 animals each day at the haul-out. As usual, the sea lions have been providing us with plenty of entertainment, especially those unpredictable pups. Lately, they have been keeping themselves amused by sneaking up and scaring the resident seabirds from underwater.

The days are short - the sun currently rises at 8:15 a.m. and sets at 3:15 p.m. - and every day it gets harder to complete our 4:00 p.m. counts. We have had enough morning light to start our counts at 8:00 a.m., but the light fades quickly at sunset and it's usually dark just after our last count at 4:00 p.m. We've had to use our super 'observer-vision' to count through the spotting scope (squint, refocus, squint, refocus.).

We have had few problems with our camp, aside from a leaky roof that I think I have finally fixed (if not, I'm sure I'll know about it!). The darkness has kept us close to the cabin, where our trusty propane lanterns provide us with reliable light. Last night, however, we were lured away from the cabin and onto the beach to stand in the dark and stare up at the northern lights. They lit up the sky with their dancing, and I think we may have seen a slight shade of red colouring the tips of the mostly-green lights. I have spent many nights watching northern lights, but I never get tired of them.

Unfortunately, our recent visitor, Karen from the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, had left that day and couldn't enjoy the northern lights with us. Karen stayed on the island for six days to sight sea lions that had been branded as part of research by the Alaska Department of Fish and Game. She brought us fresh food and we had some great meals, but I think both Brooke and I were just happy to have a new person to chat with. From what Karen was saying, the Alaskan government will probably send someone out again two or three more times before we complete our field study in July.

"Let's see, you want me to live in a 10x12 foot cabin on a small island in Alaska, with only one other person, for two months at a time over the course of a year, observing Steller sea lions? Where do I sign up?"

That's what I said when Michelle Marcotte invited me to become a research assistant for her Master's thesis. No, I'm not crazy, I'm a sea lion researcher, and I'm currently enjoying one of the most exciting and satisfying experiences of my life here on South West Brothers Island.

It's early December and I'm near the end of my second two-month stay on the island. Despite the progressively shorter and colder days, our work is going very well. What are we doing here, you ask? In a nutshell, we are collecting a year's worth of information on the Steller sea lions at South West Brothers Island, so that Michelle can try to answer some of the questions she has posed in her Masters thesis.

Michelle's project has several parts to it. The main component of our research involves observing sea lions at a local 'haul-out,' a place where sea lions literally haul themselves out of the water onto a familiar piece of land to rest, interact or nurse their offspring. This research is best carried out from behind a blind, a hidden spot where we can consistently observe the sea lions without their knowledge. The blind is approximately 100 metres from the haul-out, so we use a scope to make our observations.

During an eight-hour observation period, which is split into two four-hour shifts, we conduct hourly counts (counting every animal on the haul-out) and behavioural observations every half-hour. Behavioural observations require us to scan the haul-out and classify each sea lion by gender and age (pups or young of year, juveniles, females, sub-adult males or SAM's, and large bull males), as well as by behaviour such as suckling, active or resting.

A second component of Michelle's study involves two cameras, mounted in protective cases, which photograph the haul-out every hour. We compare the photographs to our hourly counts, in order to evaluate the potential

areas without observers. A third and final component of the research has us counting sea lions that have hauled out at different locations around the island, to try to determine the total number of animals present.

Because we are conducting research in Alaska, we sometimes work in conjunction with several U.S federal agencies. The Alaska Department of Fish and Game, for example, brands selected sea lions from known rookeries in southeast Alaska. They then search for branded animals throughout the year, hoping to gain valuable information about sea lion movements, age and gender, animal health and overall population trends. In cooperation with this research, we conduct 'brand re-sights' from our blind, recording and photographing branded animals whenever possible. In this way, we help to gather information that otherwise might not be collected.

Memorable Encounter

The short hike to and from the blind each day can hold a great deal of variety. I can hear the sea lions well before arriving at the blind, and I often wonder what they have been up to overnight. The previous day might have been windy and stormy, with big swells crashing over the haul-out and washing away some of the sea lions. Perhaps the younger animals were out surfing those same swells, and I'll find them sleeping off the excitement? Every day is different.

Steller sea lions are skittish by nature, and you never know what will frighten them. Sometimes a few ravens or an eagle can spook an animal, which in turn can spark a noisy stampede into the water. Other times, boats may approach too closely to take a picture, and the sea lions will loudly indicate how they feel about the intrusion. After all, weren't zoom lenses and binoculars invented for a reason?

One unforgettable disturbance happened on an afternoon in August. I was in the blind when I suddenly heard the sea lions increase their vocalizations. I couldn't see what was irritating them, but they were quickly getting louder. Then, all of a sudden, an orca surfaced inside the little bay between the blind and the sea lions-and charged at the haul-out!

"Holy cow!" I exclaimed (or something to that effect) and stumbled out of the blind in my rush to photograph the sea lions' primary predator in action. A pod of four orcas - two females and two juvenile whales - were churning up the tidal waters, and the sea lions were making more noise than I had ever heard them make. This was the one and only time I didn't see them startle and stampede into the water, as they usually do when they are spooked.

The analogy of a 'kid in a candy store' might describe how excited and truly amazed I was watching such a rare event. Tail slapping, spy hopping and repeatedly charging the haul-out, the orcas terrorized the sea lions for an hour. Eventually, the pod quietly swam off and the sea lions quickly calmed down, but I can't say the same for myself!

Another month has already passed, and I can't believe that November is almost over.

The weather is colder here than in Vancouver but is still mild by Alaskan standards. The morning temperature is usually around 2 degrees Celsius and climbs to a maximum of about 6 degrees. The snow line is slowly creeping down the coastal mountains on the horizon, the winds and ocean swells are getting stronger, and the power of the ocean – even in our semi-protected area – is quite astounding.

The local Steller sea lions are cooperating with our research, and data are pouring in. By now, most of this year's pups have become big and fat, but there are still a few skinny ones around. One pup died on shore, but we managed to bundle him up so that biologists from the Alaska Department of Fish and Game could collect him. It was sad, but hopefully they will learn a little from him about Alaska's declining sea lion populations.

About 50 harbour seals currently live around our island, and we even got a new resident—a river otter! The variety of birdlife is wonderful, and we see everything from harlequin ducks, loons, kingfishers, and cormorants to many species of gulls. We still see humpback whales once in a while, and orcas occasionally come by to see if any seals are on the day’s menu.

Our days are getting shorter and shorter as winter sets in, and the biggest challenge I’m facing is fighting the lethargy that accompanies extended periods of darkness. Our propane lamps give off a soft yellow light and the cabin is warm and cozy, so with a full belly after dinner it can sometimes be hard to stay awake. We have taken advantage of the perpetual darkness, however, and on clear nights we set up the spotting scope to check out Alaska's night sky. The dancing northern lights – always a brilliant green – are a frequent highlight of our star parties.

I will be returning to South West Brothers Island in December after a brief return to Vancouver, and I'm looking forward to spending the holidays here.

It’s been two months since the field component of our year-long research project began here on South West Brothers Island.

Today is Tuesday, and although it’s my designated day off, I still had to check in with our lab in Vancouver by satellite phone as part of our weekly routine. I just finished telling them about the impending gale force winds and small craft advisory that has been issued for the rest of this week. An Alaskan winter is on its way!

Researcher Morgan Davies is scheduled to arrive tomorrow to relieve Brooke Campbell, who has been my steady companion for the past month and is due to return to Vancouver. But as the winter storms become more frequent and intense, the four-hour voyage from Juneau to South West Brothers Island on a 32-foot off-loader named the ‘Karen-Lynn’ is getting increasingly hazardous. I’ll be surprised if we see them before Sunday.

So, while Brooke prepares for another week on the island, Morgan will get to relax in Alaska’s capital city, enjoying his last taste of civilization for a while!

As temperatures drop and the weather hammers down on us, I am continuously grateful for the shelter of our cabin and the research blind from which we can unobtrusively view the local Steller sea lions. We spend our days at a local haul-out, which is an area where sea lions can literally "haul out" of the water onto dry land. Approximately 50 pups were brought here this past summer from an offshore rookery (nursery) by their mothers.

Data collection is going well, and the pups are very entertaining to watch. They spend their days in groups, wrestling and playing in the shallow water. Nearby kelp and sea stars frequently become toys for tossing and retrieving – it reminds me of being a kid at the pool, tossing rings and trying to catch them underwater before they hit the bottom. Fuelled by the high-energy milk of their mothers, the pups can afford to burn calories, while most of the adults sometimes spend whole days sleeping!

The days are getting shorter; it’s completely dark here by 7:00 p.m., and headlamps have become a necessity when we get up in the morning, especially on overcast days. The mornings should become more manageable once we switch to daylight savings time.

We fill our evenings by playing cards, listening to CD books, reading, writing and talking. Camaraderie is essential when you live in an 8x12-foot space, and it’s great to have positive, friendly teammates. Brooke recently took up knitting and has become the knitting master, while I ambitiously brought along an astronomy field guide. While I’m learning a lot, we haven’t had many clear nights to allow me to practice my stargazing.

I hope all is well in civilization, and as a parting thought to those of you reading this from the comfort of your own home: never take for granted the simple joy of a hot shower!

Today is the last day before I am scheduled to leave South West Brothers Island, but the Marine Radio says another gale is coming, so we’ll see.

I am the newest member of the “Steller Watch” team, having been hired on in July. This is my first time on South West Brothers Island and my first time in Alaska. I have been on the Island since the third of August, and have witnessed the seasons gradually shift from summer to fall. Leaves are changing colour and dropping, while ground vegetation is getting sparser by the day. More rain, stronger winds, cooler temperatures and a shortening of the daylight hours will soon complete the transition from fall to winter.

I’m blown away by how beautiful it is up here. Big Sitka spruce and western hemlock, devil’s club and blueberries are all around. A quick walk around the island (anything is quick when you live on two acres of land!) reveals a multitude of birds, harbour seals, humpbacks, the occasional orca – and of course, hundreds of Steller sea lions.

Being this isolated takes some getting used to, especially since I was born and raised in Vancouver, BC, but Michelle and Morgan are terrific people and easy to work with, which has made my time up here nothing but pleasant.

I love that this is my job! Nature is my office, and I’m fully enjoying it. Steller sea lions are fascinating to watch and the scenery is incredible. I am so thankful for this opportunity.

Spending a whole year on a remote island in Southeast Alaska is not something many people would consider doing. With a population of only a few sea birds and 600 Steller sea lions, island life in Alaska can be quite a challenge.

Three Steller sea lion researchers - Morgan Davies, Brooke Campbell and I - have taken up this challenge in the name of science. Our goal is to study a community of sea lions for an entire year.

In July of this year, Morgan and I set up a simple field camp on Southwest Brothers Island consisting of a one-room cabin and a “blind” for discretely observing the animals. The island is abundant with plant life and animals, and with no mammals other than the marine kind, we won’t have to worry about visits from those infamous Alaskan Brown bears.

There are always two people on the island at any one time, with an eagerly awaited re-supply of food each month. The monthly re-supply trip allows one of the researchers to come back to Vancouver for a month to enter data and recharge their batteries, while another on the team is dropped off on the island for two months of sea lion observations.

While we’re on the island, one of our main goals is to study the relationships between female Steller sea lions and their pups.

Female Steller sea lions spend part of their time foraging for food at sea and the rest of their time nursing their young pups on land. Because of this, the process of weaning a pup – helping it become fully independent of its mother’s milk and care – can be quite long. Over time, the pups take less of their mother’s milk and learn to catch their own fish for food.

By examining the length of this weaning period, scientists can obtain information about the “nutritional stability” of a population of sea lions. For example, a female who does not get enough food may not have enough energy to provide milk to her young for an extended period of time while preparing to give birth again in the following season. The biological effects of this lack of food are called nutritional stress.

If a mother is nutritionally stressed, it may mean a shortened weaning period for her young. Juveniles who are nutritionally stressed may have a higher mortality (death) rate – either directly, from starvation, or indirectly, from

Challenges Ahead

The summer has brought us plenty of sunshine and long daylight hours. We have spotted many “visitors” to our isolated island including cruise ships, fishing vessels, kayakers and even families of humpback and orca whales!

But the coming winter season promises to bring plenty of challenges that accompany living in a remote area - including wind, rain and long, dark hours.

Stay tuned for monthly updates from our remote island field camp!

A rainbow arcs over South West Brothers Island.

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North Pacific Universities Marine Mammal Research Consortium conducts research on the relationship between fisheries and marine mammals in the North Pacific Ocean and the Eastern Bering Sea.

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