The Marine Biologist

The Earth, the Blue planet, is so called because its largest biotope is a vast and deep intertwined blue expanse of salted oceans and seas. This liquid is filled with trillions of living organisms that are mostly invisible to the naked eye. These life forms have allowed us to breathe and to conquer terrestrial habitats. They are our ancestors, the rocks we use to build our homes, the oils we use to fuel our society, the food we eat (or the food of our food), and they may also hold the key to a healthy future for our planet in these troubling times of climate change.

Despite a traditional and sustainable approach to managing resources, a remote Pacific atoll finds itself on the front line of a warming world.

By Michael White.

Tongareva (09° South; 158° West) is the largest and remotest atoll in the Cook Islands. The population is small, living in two villages, with a mainly subsistence lifestyle gathering food and daily resources from nature. There is a peripheral need for money to pay power and phone-bills and order bulk cargo, such as rice, flour and coffee, from Hawai’i. Shipping, however, is rare.

The future ocean can look like a scary place: hotter, more acidic and breathless. In the wake of stories about longer and more frequent marine heatwaves our cover story looks into the effects of a warmer future in Antarctica. A topic that will be surfacing more frequently is that of low oxygen zones and we are delighted to have internationally recognized expert Nancy Rabalais to update us on the increasing problem of hypoxia in coastal waters. Secreting a shell is getting more difficult in acidifying seas and MBA researchers present a timely opportunity for you to bone up on your knowledge of mineralization.

Summer 2014 marked the 75th anniversary of a ground-breaking experiment undertaken at the Laboratory of the Marine Biological Association by Alan Hodgkin and Andrew Huxley that helped launch a golden era of neurobiology.

Blue stretched down as far as could be seen, illuminated by shifting shafts of down-welling light. Gazing down through this drop in the ocean I’d expected to see something, but nothing moved across the void, nor had it for hours. A container ship, like a skyscraper on its side, churned past us a few miles away. Then from the deep a shape glanced across the corner of my eye, there and not there at the same time. Coming back into view, a sleek, torpedo shape with a sinuous movement, well camouflaged against the inky backdrop: it was a large blue shark.

Our series of articles on degree courses in marine biology aims to help you choose the right course in the right place. In this edition the spotlight turns to Hull in East Yorkshire, England. By Sue Hull.

By Elizabeth Sibert