Dear Fellow Diver,
We are steady on a course, steaming at ten knots through the Florida Straits,
headed to Cay Sal Bank. Everyone aboard is asleep except my watch-mate, the captain,
and me. With luck we will be anchored at the Sistine Chapel by breakfast.
There, we will collect fish and invertebrates, but not for sport or livelihood.
I was on the bridge thanks to a report in the January 2005 Undercurrent,
that the New England Aquarium would be having a fish collecting expedition and
needed working participants for its 10-day April voyage. The price was a largely
tax-deductible $3,800 (air included) to cover the cost of collecting live specimens
for the Aquarium. I called Holly Martel Bourbon, the aquarium's senior
aquarist/diving safety officer and trip coordinator, who explained the duties
of the participants. I then sent several e-mails verifying my qualifications
and commitment. Participants from the Boston area displayed their skills in the
aquarium's Giant Ocean Tank, while others sent Holly instructor's endorsements
certifying their competency and fitness. I was approved to join eight other participants
on the Coral Reef II owned by Chicago's Shedd Aquarium.
I saw the Coral Reef II for the first time at the gritty Merrill-Stevens Dry
Dock in Miami. The air-conditioned, 85-foot, vessel has 11 passenger berths in
mostly two-person cabins, with two good sized comfortable bunks, a sink, and storage
space. The boat has four heads and four showers, and a large salon where
shipmates can watch a movie, look at slides, or chill out -- but only after the
chores are done. She's a unique research vessel, with specialized holding tanks,
into which filtered seawater is pumped and recirculated. Built in 1984, the boat
has the latest navigational and communication wizardry. A large stern dive platform
supports two dive ladders and an onboard compressor supplies air, but no
Nitrox -- collected fish and long bottom times just don't go together.
Two experienced captains were on board, John Rothchild and Lou Roth. Captain
John had been with the Shedd Aquarium for 25 years and knows the Caribbean
intimately. He could be counted on to give friendly advice, tell a good joke,
or effortlessly guide us
through the waters he
calls home. Captain Lou
was the "go to" guy to get
answers for any questions.
Chef Charles Julien ensured
we ate well. The breakfast
menu included breakfast
burritos, frittata,
scrambled eggs, smoked
salmon, and fruit. Lunch
was eat-on-the-go, but
included seafood salad
on croissants, sautéed
chicken breast, burgers,
fries, Philly cheese steak,
chowder. Dinner had
dishes like crab Rangoon,
smoked fish, bruschetta,
spinakopita, conch fritters, and crab cakes.
The cruise took us
from Miami to Bimini and
down to the Cay Sal Bank.
We averaged three dives
a day in 79F water (50-
100ft vis) in a chilly,
windy and rainy April.
We collected at Rainbow
Reef, Atlantis, South
Turtle Rocks, and the
wrecks of the Rio Miami
and the Sapona, as well
nearer to Cuba, particularly
the Big Blue Hole,
the Sistine Chapel and
Silversides. At the Big
Blue Hole I saw a couple
reef sharks, a huge turtle,
and a spotted eagle
ray sharing the reef.
Unfortunately, I had little
time to observe. We
were on a mission and I
had to turn my back to
the parade of pelagics
and seduce a lightningquick
bluehead wrasse.
We did manage a fun stop
at Water Cay for some
recreational snorkeling
and "cliff" diving from
the 20-foot high arch
over an enclosed natural
pool.
Besides collecting
fish and regularly acting
as the day's safety
observer, we participants
helped feed the
fish, clean the tanks,
and count and catalog the catch. Each of us took a two-hour night watch while the
boat was underway, and set and cleared tables at mealtime. As Captain John said
in his initial briefing, "This ain't no live-aboard." It was work, but if you
love learning, conservation, and the ocean, this is THE trip.
The fish collecting pros were three Aquarium staffers -- Holly, Dan Laughlin,
and Joe Masi -- who showed how to collect, nurture, and transport the animals to
avoid injury to both diver and fish. Their creed was to minimize the stress on
the fish as they continually underscored the ethics of care. Each dive began with
a comprehensive briefing that included the descriptions and behaviors of animals
we sought. For example, some fish move more horizontally while others swim
upwards to avoid the divers, knowledge that helped us position our nets. In the
end, we collected more than 300 fish and 70 invertebrates, getting approximately
90 percent of the animals on the Aquarium's "wish list."
Working in teams, each diver held two, one-foot square vinyl nets. Attached
to the BC was a vinyl bag to contain fish until we surfaced. Fish are fast and agile and we are, well, not. But speed is not what catches fish. Excruciatingly
slow movements do. Slowly and systemically corralling the fish by closing in
around them and blocking their escape is the idea. Rather than bringing the net
to the fish, the idea is getting the fish to swim into the net.
As I descended toward the reef at South Turtle Rocks, I saw a huge school
of brown chromis rocking in the surge twenty feet away. Fish on the list! My
dive buddy and I maneuvered our nets for the catch, but as we got into position,
the fish darted past us. This scenario kept repeating itself until I watched the
pros. Using their bodies and nets to block, they patiently tightened their circle.
As if on cue, ten fish rushed into the nets. The divers closed the nets
and transferred the fish to their catch bags. Eventually I got the knack, and
beamed with pride when I handed over my prizes at the swim ladder.
Not all fish are as quick as chromis. At Atlantis (the submerged "Bimini
Road"), I was returning to the boat empty handed and disappointed, when I spotted
a honeycomb cowfish that swam boldly into my net. Because of her delicate
features and size, I swam her back to the boat and carefully handed the net, full
of water and fish, up to Dan. If you visit the New England Aquarium, look for
"Bessie" in the Giant Ocean Tank. She is one beautiful animal.
We used large seines twice. Using them was truly a team effort with everyone
playing a critical role, either herding Mahoney snapper and smaller fish or working
the nets, carefully transferring or releasing the fish, depending upon their
species and size.
Everyone took extraordinary care to give each animal humane, even compassionate,
treatment. When someone brought back a fish that was not on the wish list,
Holly geared up and swam the fish back to where it was collected. We took every
precaution to reduce a fish's stress to enhance its chances of survival. Fish
collected deeper than 40 feet were placed in a 55-gallon barrel, which we raised
slowly, sometimes over several hours, to avoid decompression problems. They even
have a tabletop recompression chamber used for fish that need help adjusting from the ascent. The swim bladder in fish can be very sensitive to pressure changes
and too rapid an ascent can swell their bladders, causing a fatality quickly.
When a diver surfaced with a fish, all on board would scramble to help -- not the
diver, but the fish. Occasionally a fish would be brought on board that had been
previously injured, suffered from disease, or had an isopod on its face. We would
carefully return it to its place on the reef. Oxygen and salinity levels in the
tanks were checked regularly and kept clear of waste. We took every precaution
to minimize the losses, so we got almost 100 percent of our catch safely back to
Boston, where most are now living in the Aquarium's Giant Ocean Tank.
The fish we collected will be treated well, while providing countless hours
of engaging entertainment, as well as educational and research opportunities.
Children will see the fish and learn of their struggle to survive and how they
can help. Scientists, researchers, and aquarists will gather information that
may help influence government policy and private conservation efforts. Collecting
fish for aquariums is just one piece in the giant puzzle of developing strategies
to save our reefs and oceans. I was proud and satisfied to spend my own hard
earned money to do my share.
- M.A.