So you want to be a Marine Biologist, do you?

     The sea is vast, magnificent and beautiful, and yet it is so misunderstood. I think that this is perhaps one of the biggest reasons that so many people want to become a marine biologist. It's certainly one of the reasons why I've dedicated my life to the pursuit of this field of study. 

     Unfortunately, there is a great deal of misunderstanding and bias surrounding the field. While it is extremely competitive and not for the faint of heart, it is a career worth pursuing and you CAN do it, but you have to approach it the right way. I've inevitably had a lot of people ask me questions about marine biology or ask me for advice, and while I am no expert as I haven't even finished my degree yet (one more semester!), my hope is that I can share with you some of what I have learned over the past few years and some of what I have learned from others who have been doing this far longer than I have.

So how do you become a marine biologist?

You have to be serious about it

     Probably the most frequent response I receive after I tell someone that I am a marine biologist is, "Oh, I used to want to be a marine biologist" often followed by "but I couldn't do the math/science classes, I'm not smart enough." First of all, don't put yourself down like that. You are more capable than you realize. Secondly, as off-putting as this may sound, anyone with that kind of attitude is not likely to make it as a marine biologist. There are so many people trying to get into this field for so many different reasons, meaning there are a lot of people fighting to get into the same programs and jobs. You really have to want it and you have to be really serious about it. Unfortunately, at least in the United States, marine biology seems to be one of those careers that people turn to when they don't know what else they want to do with their lives. People wrongfully assume that it is easy. I want to be the first to tell you that it's absolutely not. You have to work for it, you have to really want it. You have to take difficult classes, you have to seek out opportunities that will make you a better scientist, and you have to get your feet wet. Heck, you may even work harder than all of the med students. This isn't something you can have a passing interest for, you have to be ready and prepared to work your tail off to get yourself out there. Is it a lot of work? Yes. But is it worth it? That's for you to decide. For me, this is worth everything, and maybe it is for you, too.

Read a lot of publications

     People tend to cringe when I tell them this. Publications can be intimidating and often very dry, so they leave a bad taste in people's mouths if they don't know how to approach them. I like to think of publications as a tool and a companion. They can give you ideas for your own research or suggest different techniques for conducting a certain research project, and they can be incredibly helpful guides especially when you first start out. They can also teach you a lot of valuable information, especially if you are focused on a specific area of research. As much as they scare you, read them. Take them slow, and don't expect to understand them completely the first read through. It may take a few reads to get them really figured out. Get yourself familiar with publications, and read them as often as you can. The more publications you read, the easier it becomes to understand them and get what you need out of them, and they won't be as scary. Publications can give you so much information about a topic and reading them can also give you an idea of how to write your own when the time comes. There are so many people in my undergraduate courses who have no idea how to write a lab report or mock publication because they have simply never read any publications. Get a head start on your peers and read publications, it will be well worth your time and you will learn so much from them.

Take lots of classes, including ones not directly related to marine biology

     You should be open to learning, and that means taking as many courses as possible. If you want to know more about what you're studying, take as many classes about it as you can and really try to learn from those classes. Of course you should take courses related to marine biology and your specific interests in the field, but you should also include other seemingly "unrelated" courses, too. Courses like General Physiology, Cell and Molecular Biology, and Physics may make your head spin, but as much as they may appear "useless" to you at the time, they will really aid your understanding of how everything fits together. Plus, these classes are especially helpful when applying for graduate school because graduate schools understand the importance of these classes, too. You may not enjoy them nearly as much, but they really are for your benefit.

Keep up with news and information in the field, and read up on the subject

     It is very advantageous to keep up with what is happening in the field so you have an idea of the research that is currently being conducted and who is conducting that research. Follow marine biologists, marine societies, or marine not-for-profits on Twitter. Read the articles they post. See what current problems are arising and what is being done to salve them. This is also a good way to maybe spot a scholarship or two!

     You can also read books on the subject and watch documentaries about the ocean. If you're like a sponge and try to soak up as much information about the ocean as possible, you will find it so much easier to understand the sea and develop good questions that can be pursued through research.

Pursue the thing YOU want to pursue

     If you really are serious about being a marine biologist and you already know what you want to study, then go for it! Do you want to study sharks? Great! What about algae? That's awesome! Ultimately it is your life and you should pursue the things that you want. If you want to study whales and dolphins, by all means do so. I am so sick of the quite frankly incredulous stigma attached to marine mammal research right now. I cannot tell you how many times I've heard professors, students, and other people say "That person just wants to go play with the dolphins!" It's a relevant and fascinating field, and no one should ever bash on someone else's interests. Maybe you think studying algae or marine biochemistry is more important, but that doesn't mean that studying whales and dolphins isn't important, either. Get out there and study what you want! Fish, octopus, bivalves, deep sea critters, the seafood industry, there's a whole ocean out there and each subject is worth pursuing. 

     Most importantly, make sure that you want to pursue the research or interests that you are pursuing because YOU want to pursue them. So often I have seen people who had certain fields of interest suggested to them and they felt like they didn't have a choice and made themselves believe that they actually like this "interest." I've also seen people who just went along with whatever and kept saying that they wanted to work on the project that they just happened to be working on at the time and then changed interests as soon as they changed projects. My advice: Don't do either of these. This is something you will be doing for the rest of your life, so don't just settle. You might be reading this and feel like, "Oh no, that's me," but really there is no reason to worry. Early in your career is a good time to really hone in on what you want to do. Like I said earlier, read lots of publications, or even just read lots of literature about the ocean or watch nature documentaries. Go to your local aquarium, talk to the people who work there. What are you drawn to out of all of these sources? Some people aren't interested in a particular organism or ecosystem, but rather a question, and that's okay! But, you need to take time to figure out what you're interested in. Drifting can only get you so far, there are some places where you have to swim to keep yourself afloat. If you have taken the time to determine at least a little bit of what you're really interested in, you'll be able to make it.

Get your feet wet

     Quite possibly the most important thing you can do, especially as an undergraduate student, is get experience. My understanding of the marine ecosystem, marine organisms, and marine research increased dramatically in a relatively short time period thanks to my research experiences, and these experiences truly helped me to grow as a scientist (and as a person). I know I would not be where I am today without those experiences and I cannot express enough how important it is that every aspiring marine biologist get at least a little field experience. You can find places locally or abroad that will be willing to take you on as an intern and give you valuable experience. "Well I don't live anywhere near the ocean." Not too big of a problem! I live in landlocked Tennessee at the moment, but I took an opportunity to travel thousands of miles to Chile to finally work with the sea. "But I don't have the money for it!" I don't, either. The only way I have been to Chile as many times as I have is because I have worked my tail off applying for grants because there was no possible way I could afford it on my own. Your university probably has grants they would love to impart onto you for your research, you just have to seek out those sources of funding. That is exactly what I did and I got exactly enough to do what I needed. Sure, I was on an incredibly tight budget and couldn't afford to go outside of that budget (that included my food budget, too), but I made it work, and you can too, I promise! If your university doesn't have the funds, there are plenty of other outside sources to apply to. I'm currently applying to as many outside grants as I can find to continue my research in Chile next year, so I can promise you the funds are out there, you just have to apply. "I'm not sure where to look." My opportunity literally fell into my lap, so yours may not be so easily found but it is not an impossible feat. A quick Google search can bring up places actively seeking out undergraduates willing to apply. Keep an eye on your university email, sometimes professors will send out opportunities they hear about or your university itself will have a program. That's exactly how I got my foot in the door for Chile. If venturing out of your current home doesn't appear to be the best option at the moment, there are still ways to get experience, don't fret! Volunteer at your local aquarium or zoo (zoos usually have some kind of aquatic aspect to them). If even that is not possible, try to find anything related to aquatic research. You can apply a lot of the same ideas and techniques used for freshwater research to marine research, so even working in freshwater systems will be incredibly beneficial to you.

     Getting experience also allows you to know whether or not you are where you need to be. If you're still a little unsure about being a marine biologist, experience will help to solidify everything for you. It may be as simple as showing you what projects you are interested in or even if you want to continue down this path at all. I have known people who sought out research experiences and realized that either they didn't care for the type of project they were working on and that their efforts were better aligned elsewhere in the marine world or that they didn't even really want to be a marine biologist. This is valuable information, and it's better to know it sooner than later. 

~

     Chances are, if you have made it to the end of this, you are serious about becoming a marine biologist. Congratulations to you, it's an exciting thing! Being a marine biologist is a lot of hard work and you really have to be diligent about it, but it is such a rewarding and exciting field. You're entering an incredible field complete with people who come from all sorts of backgrounds with a varieties of different interests. It's a great place to be, should you be willing to accept the challenge.

The Tennessee Aquarium

     Probably unsurprising to anyone who knows me, one of my favorite places in the entire world is the Tennessee Aquarium. My home away from home, this lovely place boasts a host of fish and other aquatic creatures and brings myself and others closer to these precious animals than we would ever normally get (even myself, a Biologist in training!). It also gives me an opportunity to photograph and film them. A recent course in Ichthyology (they study of fish) brought my love of fish to new heights (something I thought was impossible considering I already loved them dearly beforehand), and I was absolutely out of my mind as I roamed the corridors and exhibits last month with a fresh pair of eyes for all the fish I had learned over the past semester. It's one thing to see them in a PowerPoint, a textbook, or preserved in a jar, but entirely another to see them living and breathing a few inches in front of you. And of course, my camera was very busy. Plus, I had recently purchased a prism for other projects, so I brought it along to test it out and it did not disappoint. 

    I also created something I had wanted to create for a very long time: a film featuring the beauty of an aquarium. There's that magic of those creatures behind the glass, the way that they look at you and move so effortlessly through their fluid world. I wanted to share with others the world that I saw, and so I created a film that I am incredibly proud of.

     I will always cherish this place. I hope to visit several times in the near future and plan to of course take plenty more photographs to share with you.

SEA - Adam Young Scores Short Film Contest

     One of the highlights of the year for me was the Adam Young Scores project. At the beginning of each month, Adam Young, the mastermind behind "Owl City," released a conceptual film score based on a historical event. Being both a fan of his music and a major history buff, this was basically the dream. I lavished the scores each month, dazzled by their lush production and storylines.

     While I was in Chile performing my research this summer, Miracle in the Andes was released on the first night of my last experimental run. For those of you who are unfamilar with my Chile adventure, my research involved 24-hour behavioral analyses where once an hour for 24 hours I had to observe the behavior of my snails, and most ran for up to 72-hours at regular but less frequent intervals after the first 24 hours. You can check out the full story if you like here, but basically I was exhausted quite a bit of the time. However, the release of that score could not have come at a more perfect time, and it kept me awake and alive all night. What was far more exciting, however, was that the event took place rather close to where I was located, and of all of the times that he could have released a score involving Chile, it was while I was there. Laying on a wooden bench in the frigid dark under a set of stars different from my own, the ever-present sound of the bubbling air and running water in the lab gurgling away, I spent my very short breaks between observations enraptured in a world that was closer than most people listening to the score would ever be to the actual location. I saw the Andes just a few days after the score came out, and I was beside myself. I was captivated by the fascinating story of survival, and it helped to push me onward with my lack of sleep (5 hours total over a 72 hour period). If they could make it in much worse of a situation, I could certainly survive this, and I did.

     While I was in Chile, I worked on my very first film project. I had wanted to get into filmmaking for ages, I just never had the time nor the place to do it. Chile served as an excellent teacher and model, and whenever I had a rare chance to slip away from my work during those seven weeks, I explored the nearby beaches and photographed and filmed. Upon my return, I created and released my first film, "Oceano," on YouTube. As much footage as I used in it, there was so much that would go unseen since I did not have room for it. They sat in the catacombs of my computer files, never to see the light of day.

Or so I thought.

    I was studying for an Ichthyology (the study of fish) lab exam when I heard about the Adam Young Short Film Contest. I about exploded with glee, forgetting all the dead fish in the jars that I had been eyeing for a few hours. I would have the opportunity to marry two things that were very near and dear to me into one project. Unfortunately, I was slammed with my thesis and courses, so I wouldn't be able to begin until after finals, so I patiently but anxiously waited to put my film together.

    Thankfully I finished my semester off strong and finally got to work on my film. This film means so much to me, both because of the footage and the music. The shots from the film are the product of many weeks of work in the sparse moments where I could take a break from my research long enough to go out. I stood in a lot of uncomfortable positions, got my feet wet on multiple occasions, and braved those beautiful beaches even when reaching them was difficult due to strong waves and high tides. I am so proud of these shots and they are my attempt to bring the beauty I lived to others. The scores have also been very close to me, having carried me through lots of study (both my research and coursework), scary and joyful times, and of course thoughtful drives to and from college.

     My film includes two tracks from The Spirit of St. Louis score. When I first heard "Over Water," I cried. It was one of the most beautiful pieces I had ever heard, and it truly captured that feeling of the ocean. When I first arrived in Chile, somewhat shaken due to complication with my transportation, I went out one evening to explore after I had finished my work. The world was cast in a purple glow as the sea swelled and the mist swirled around me. I pulled out my phone, played "Over Water," and stood in complete awe. That was one of my most cherished moments in Chile. The next song, "Stars Appear," and the flow between the two is just so lovely that I simply couldn't break them apart. They help to tell the story of the sea, engaging in her various sides and exposing much of her personality.

     This film means so much to me and I hope that it perhaps strikes a chord with you, too. If you'd like to hear more about my Chile story, all blogs from June to August relay my adventures (and misadventures). Thank you for supporting this project, my heart and soul.

Adventures in Snorkeling Part 2

The sea and I had some unfinished business to attend to.

     After my snorkeling misadventure in Chile earlier this summer (Adventures in Snorkeling Part 1), I was absolutely determined to snorkel again.  I had to do this; a somewhat unsettling experience could not scare me off enough to never try it again. The underwater world was just too beautiful and fascinating and I couldn't stay away from it.

   My mother and I took a short-notice but well-needed trip to Destin, Florida, and I knew that this was my chance to once again try to snorkel. Destin is gorgeous, with sugar-white beaches and some of the most vivid blue-green water I've ever seen, and while Destin is known for its beautiful beaches, it is not well-known for its marine life. There is certainly marine life there, but there is not as much to see as there was in Chile or even other places in Florida. The biodiversity is not as strong along the shore in Destin, but I knew there was something out there and I was going to find it.

    We had booked a snorkel tour so that my mother could have the experience of snorkeling as well, but I desperately wanted to find a way to snorkel on my own aside from the snorkel tour. A large misconception that a lot of people have is that you can snorkel at just about any beach you like. This is not the case. The water has to be the proper depth, the waves have to be gentle enough, and you have to be aware and watching for dangerous marine life. I have the curse of knowing too much, so I am hyper-aware of what organisms are out there and exactly what it could do to me, so I am often more cautious than most people. Rip currents are also a big issue in Destin in particular, so it was another thing to keep an eye out for. Aside from all of these possible issues, in the back of my mind I was desperate to find somewhere to snorkel. 

     After driving all night, we arrived early in the morning and at 7:50 am, we ventured out to the beach by our hotel. It was gorgeous. The sun was shining brilliantly in a blue sky, and the glorious blue-green waves washed in over the sugary sands. I was in heaven. There was something else I noticed, too: a small part of the beach had relatively gentle waves compared to the rest of the area and I could just barely see something moving in the water. This was promising.

     Later in the day we ventured back, and cautiously I watched the waves for a few minutes to see the intensity and patterns of the lulls in the waves. They appeared to be gentle enough to allow me to snorkel, and so I pulled out the snorkeling gear I had desperately wished I had brought with me to Chile and entered the water.

What I saw down there took my breath away.

     In the shallow mint water, schools of fish fluttered back and forth around me. At least five different species of fish pulsed in the pastel waters, shimmering like jewels. As they twisted and turned together their little schools, a beautiful whoosing sound filled the water. I swam among the fish, trying to get a better look at them, but they were much too fast for me. Still, I raced behind them, following them as they flashed and danced along. I hovered along, seeking out all the marine life I could. I found several stray pieces of algae and a hermit crab scuttling along the white sand. For what felt like only a few minutes but must have been an hour and a half to two hours, I glided along the shallow bottom, exploring a world I had only ever dreamed of seeing. Much to my great relief and joy, this time, snorkeling felt right. This time, I could breathe. The water was warm, and I didn't have to worry about being on a time limit. I could take my time and adjust to the area as I needed and accustom myself to the act of snorkeling. There was no rush, no need to hurry or get something on time. No pressure. I had all the time in the world to go at my own pace and learn how to snorkel in an open water setting on my own accord.

    For everything that went wrong the first time, everything went perfectly right this time. Eventually, the waves became a little too rough due to an incoming storm and I had to leave, but the intensity of the waves pushed me out just in time to get some shots of the gorgeous sunset.

     The next day my mother and I went on the snorkeling tour. Basically a boat brought us and about 30 other people to optimal snorkeling locations and let us do as we pleased so long as we came back at the time limit. Everything proceeded about the same as the previous day; the first stop on the tour had the same fish as my little spot and looked fairly similar and had similar conditions. Except for one thing.

Jellyfish.

     Jellyfish don't necessarily bother me. I can look at them from afar, but I don't want to get too close to them for obvious reasons. Another issue is that I have absolutely horrific eyesight (-3.25 in case you're curious; basically everything that isn't five inches in front of me is incredibly blurry). I don't have contacts just yet, so I had to snorkel pretty much blind. In shallow water, this isn't much of a problem. I can't see everything all that clearly, but I can see enough to enjoy the act and feel comfortable. However, in deeper water where jellyfish were abundant, this was a bit of a different story. 

     We swam out to deeper water. I could handle snorkeling in it, but the color of the water began to get darker, the floor further down, and everything became less clear. This was slightly unsettling but not excruciatingly so. There were no issues until I noticed a foot-long jellyfish no more than two feet from me and drifting right towards me. I was so blind I almost didn't see it and nearly knocked into it. The jellyfish in the water that day were moon jellies, and these generally aren't particularly dangerous, but they can deliver a painful sting. People with more sensitive skin typically have worse effects, though, and I certainly didn't want to discover if I was one of the unlucky people with sensitive skin. Regardless, it probably would have been a fairly unpleasant feeling to have a foot-long sting on my leg. 

     This was it for me. After nearly knocking into the jellyfish, my adrenaline kicked in and the feeling of being very blind and helpless came full force. Suddenly, a horrible feeling I remembered all too well came back: I couldn't breathe.

     This time, there was no one to help me. No one to swoop in to the rescue, scoop me up, and bring me back to shore. No one to be there for me while I tried to regain my breath and my composure. This time, I was alone. 

    However, I was determined to help myself. I didn't want every single experience with snorkeling to involve me getting spooked, losing my breath, and needing someone's help. I forced myself to calm down and swam towards the shore. I was inhaling water again and feeling my breath being constricted, not nearly as much as during the incident in Chile, but still there. But, I kept focused. I thought of the two wonderful people who helped me the first time, and thought of what they would do. I steadied myself and swam towards shore, all the while watching out for more jellyfish but also calming myself. Eventually I made it back to shore and regained my breath, but I realized part of where the issue that first time in Chile had stemmed from: adrenaline. Yes, the belt, the waves, and the ill-fitting snorkel were the main culprits that day, but the adrenaline and fight-or-flight response to that very first wave that sent me catapulting back to shore ripped my breath from me and made the entire situation so much worse. Sitting on the shore, breathing in deeply and re-situating myself, I realized all of the issues from that first time. As I heard the horn sound for everyone to return to the boat for the next stop, I was a bit disappointed. Would I never be able to snorkel comfortably in water that wasn't incredibly shallow?

     The next stop brought us to very shallow waters where shells and seagrass beds abounded. Part of me was still a bit shaken from the last stop and part of me was also a bit cautious since seagrass beds are great places for stingrays and the like to hide, but I was determined to keep trying. Before entering the water, we saw a pod of dolphins race by as they chased a nearby school of fish. They were there and then gone in the blink of an eye, but seeing them actively feeding was beyond fascinating to me. After the dolphins left, I entered the water again.

     The water was much more shallow and free of jellyfish, and the abundance of little crabs and other small marine life hiding within the the short seagrasses were just too much for me and my nervousness quickly faded. I dug through the grassbeds and along the sea floor, combing for good shells and hermits that thought I couldn't see them. I brushed my fingers through the seagrass, searching for marine life that was hiding within it. Small schools of fish darted around me, often surprised that I had found their secret hideaway. The feeling of sheer joy and fascination from the day before returned once again, and the time began to once again fly by. Before I knew it, it was time to return to the boat. I was sad, I wanted to linger just a little longer. Reluctantly, I swam back towards the boat. 

    On the way back to the boat, something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I whipped around to see something I had been looking for: a crab. After the ridiculous amount of time I spent working with crabs in Chile, I had a bit of a soft spot for them (more like a love/hate relationship to be bluntly honest), and I had been hoping to find one. Having experience with handling crabs, I reached down to grab the blue crab in the way that I knew how to do from Chile so I could bring the crab to show my mother except that the crab had other plans. Infuriated that I had tried to grab her, she quickly darted up from the sand and began to swim in circles around me, lunging out and trying to pinch me. I had no idea that crabs could do such a thing and was a bit taken aback. I dodged out of her way but still pursued her, but she continued to lunge out at me and then threw a ton of sand in my face to get me off her trail. At that point I didn't have enough time to find where she had hidden herself and unfortunately had to call it quits for the day. She had won today. 

     Once I was on the boat again, I realized something: nothing could keep me away from the sea. Nothing could blow out my fascination, not my poor eyesight, not the occasional spook, not even foot-long moon jellies. I just needed contacts and more practice. I realized something else, too: I am absolutely, most assuredly in the right field. When you are doing something you love, you feel it in your core. I am unabashedly, endlessly fascinated by marine life, and it truly invigorates and excites me to be that close to something I find so intriguing and see it in its natural habitat. I sadly never had that real face-to-face experience with the sea in Chile, but I will someday. But, there were many times when I came close. There were days when I would watch my sea stars (estrellas) as they moved with their little water-propelled feet as they slowly but surely glossed across the walls of their tanks. Some might find such a thing boring, but I didn't. I was entranced watching them move. Sometimes I would watch the octopi (pulpos en espanol) as they pulsed and changed color in the tanks next to my project. I could have watched them for hours. I spent hours down by the shore, scouring the rocks for life. I truly loved marine life, and Florida only reiterated that for me. 

     I was so thrilled to be able to snorkel. I was thrilled to prove to myself that I could do it and that I finally had the opportunity to do it right. But more importantly, I was thrilled to rediscover for myself that I'm right where I am supposed to be. It's a truly wonderful feeling indeed.

Aquariums and Tide Pools

     I absolutely love to photograph in aquariums. They are magical places; windows into worlds we might otherwise be too far away from or would never be able to see otherwise. When the sea is only a distant memory and too far out of my reach, aquariums soothe my ache like a poultice, alleviating my cry for saltwater air. 

     I remember as a little girl being utterly fascinated by the aquarium. I used to live in Maryland, and we used to go to The National Aquarium in Baltimore fairly often. I used to beg to go, and I would always be so excited that I would hardly be able to sleep the night before. That place was magical. Neon blue lighting shaped like abstract waves hung high on the ceiling over open tanks where sting rays glided by like they were flying. Ascending into the rainforest exhibit, descending into the shark exhibit, coming eye to eye with animals I might not be able to see otherwise, I was simply captivated. I am certain this place had a little something to do with my career choice.

   The marine station has a cute little "aquarium" for outreach programs. It's lovely, the children come and gasp as they see what secrets lie beneath the waves that run all along the side of Chile. I, too, was beside myself that there was an aquarium because it gave me the opportunity to photograph it. I spent a lot of time in there, far more than anyone would ever realize. Late at night during my 24/72 hour runs, I would sit and watch the little waves of light dance along the ceiling and watch as the little pintarroja bebes swam along the side of the glass. Whenever I needed a breather, whenever I was so exhausted or stressed to my core, I would sit on the steps and watch the little windows into the marine world. 

I spent a lot of time in that little place. I inevitably took a lot of photos in there, too.

     A place I had never previously had access to for photography was tide pools. Tide pools can range in size, diversity, and location. Some are so very small, others are huge. Some can be easily reached, others are tricky to get to or require a wetsuit. Exploring the nearby tide pools became one of my favorite activities in Chile, and being able to photograph marine life in its natural habitat was beyond exciting to me. There is so much life in these pools and so much diversity that you could easily miss if you don't look. There is beauty to be found everywhere, you just have to be willing to look for it.

     I miss those moments by myself photographing in the little aquarium and along the coast. I miss the sound of the water running, the waves crashing nearby. I even miss the never-ending sound of seagulls calling overhead. One day, though, I will return. This isn't the last time I'll be beside the sea. I won't be trapped in an oceanless place forever, but until then, there are always nearby aquariums to explore. 

Voy a nuevas aventuras.