Adventures in electrofishing: A fish modeler gets a feel for the real world

 By Emily Morgan Liljestrand, @fishmodeler

Emily with a white sucker in her net. Photo: Emily Liljestrand

My girlfriend’s primary concern was for the safety of the fish.

My biggest worry was getting electrocuted.

We were discussing my plans the following weekend to assist a colleague on an electrofishing trip. Despite the intimidating and dangerous sounding name -- spoiler alert -- no fish were harmed and no humans were shocked! Both of us, it seems, were quite ignorant of what is actually involved in this common fisheries science technique.

As a political scientist, my partner had never even heard of electrofishing, and though I am a fisheries science PhD candidate at Michigan State University, I’m more of an “indoor” researcher. My dissertation project involves re-working stock assessment models of Lake Whitefish. But when my colleague, Josh Hoekwater, asked for my help with his research on resource competition between slimy sculpin and round goby, I jumped at the opportunity to get outside for once.

If Michigan can be approximated using one’s left hand, the Jordan River is approximately at the cuticle of the ring finger. After the 3-hour drive from Lansing, we parked near a bridge overcrossing the river. While I grabbed a hand net, Josh donned his “proton-pack” style backpack electrofishing unit.

Joshua Hoekwater, doing his best ghostbusters impersonation. Photo: Emily Liljestrand

The “backpack,” seen in the picture, is connected to a handheld electrofishing wand. When Josh pulled a trigger, the metal ring of the wand would emit a low frequency and nonlethal electric current to stun fish. Reclusive tiny species like the sculpin or goby, which hide under submerged detritus, would float to the surface. That’s when I came in. Net in hand, I would spot the disoriented individuals and scoop them up before the river could carry them downstream. Once we confirmed the fish identity, we could toss them back to their homes to recover and resume their mid-day activities.

Occasionally, when I splashed my hand into the water while the electrofishing unit was active, I could feel the gentle buzzing that the fish were experiencing. Far from the sensation of touching a power outlet, the feeling conjured mental images of eating pop rocks or sitting in a vibrating massage chair. And though Josh’s pack had a heavy, scary-looking industrial battery attached to the bottom, there was a safety mechanism such that if the unit even touched the water, the entire thing would disconnect, eliminating the possibility of electrocution. Ultimately both my and my girlfriend’s worries were unfounded!

A sculpin netted by the author. Note that the two pelvic fins identify it as a sculpin, and not a round goby. Photo: Emily Liljestrand

Though Josh and I identified about five of the endangered slimy sculpins that day, no invasive round goby made it into our net (there’s always the chance that one of the few individuals that got away from me may have been the latter). This was a great finding for the environment, but a bad day for Josh. He was hoping to find sections of the river that were only occupied by sculpins, areas only populated by goby, and regions where they coexist. Once he does so, his next step is to strategically place submerged cameras to monitor how they compete for space with the long term goal of better understanding the ecosystem and how to maintain our fisheries.

So, alas, the following Monday found Josh back at the drawing board, revisiting the maps and planning new exploratory outings. And I was back to my desk, my three monitors, and my air conditioning, combing through computer code. But I was happy for the reprieve in the “real world” of fisheries science. Sometimes looking too long at numbers on a screen can make a gal forget what those numbers represent, and I was grateful for the reminder.

An otter ate my homework: Updates from intern Rachel London

Meet Rachel London, one of Michigan Sea Grant's 2021 summer interns! Rachel is an undergraduate student at Michigan State University. This summer, she is working with the MSU Aquatic Animal Health Laboratory and Michigan Department of Natural Resources Fisheries Division to explore the potential causes of reported skin lesions in smallmouth bass. Here's an update about her project:

Skin lesion on a smallmouth bass. Photo: Rachel London

I recently traveled to Sault Ste. Marie to coordinate with the Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians. I learned how to boom shock [a method of using electricity to temporarily stun and collect fish] and found 7 "amazing" lesions on 7 different fish. I utilized the non-lethal sampling techniques that I have been piloting on all 7 fish. 

Boom shocking equipment on a sampling boat. Photo: Rachel London

Unfortunately, when we returned to the net pen the next morning, 5 of the fish were missing from what we believe to be an "otter attack." So, an otter literally ate my research. Fortunately, we still lethally analyzed the remaining 2 fish, and I am hoping to return to Sault Ste. Marie again within the next few weeks to find more fish.

Ready to scoop up a fish -- or fend off an otter. Photo: Rachel London

A Work in Progress: Reflections on Capitol Hill Ocean Week 2021 and Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Justice in the Ocean and Great Lakes Policy Sphere

By So-Jung Youn, Knauss Fellow, Policy and Constituent Affairs Division, NOAA National Ocean Service 

Note: This post was originally published on NOAA Sea Grant's Knauss blog and is republished here with the author's permission.

So-Jung Youn

Even after half a year of remote work, I still get nervous when logging onto a virtual meeting. Somehow, my internet always seems to cut out right before an important meeting or deadline. So, with a quick plea that my internet connection would remain stable, I clicked on the link for the Capitol Hill Ocean Week 2021 breakout session (Leading JEDI from Within) that I had spent weeks planning as part of my Knauss Fellowship. And...the internet held out! For a few minutes anyway. Then I lost all video input, but at least I could still hear the panelists. Such are the joys of attending a virtual conference.

Capitol Hill Ocean Week (CHOW), annually convened by the National Marine Sanctuary Foundation (NMSF), gathers people from around the U.S. and across sectors to engage in dialogue about how to sustain the health of our ocean and the Great Lakes. Since 2001, scientists, policymakers, scholars, businesses, and conservation leaders have attended CHOW to learn about current ocean and Great Lakes policy issues. For the past 2 years, CHOW has been a completely virtual event. 

The theme of CHOW 2021 was Justice, Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion: Sustaining our Ocean and Great Lakes. Over three days (June 8-10), attendees heard from diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice (DEIJ) advocates and leaders throughout the United States, U.S. territories, and Indigenous nations. While most speakers were optimistic about current efforts and future progress, the panels highlighted how, in a lot of ways, we are still at the beginnings of DEIJ in ocean and Great Lakes spaces. Many panelists highlighted the meaningful change that could occur if each attendee decided to intentionally do one thing differently as a result of the talks they heard at CHOW. Speakers also emphasized that DEIJ is ongoing, continual work that never ends; but we shouldn’t let perfection or the fear of falling short get in the way of making progress, however small. 

Another key theme was the importance of relationships in creating change and making a difference. Many speakers discussed the importance of mentorship and support in their own journeys. They urged attendees to find someone they could mentor and influence, and most importantly, stay with those people throughout their career (Thanks to Senator Cantwell for mentioning Sea Grant’s fellowships and the need to continue growing these opportunities!). 

One of the responsibilities of my Knauss Fellowship position was to help coordinate the National Ocean Service’s (NOS) participation during Capitol Hill Ocean Week. We decided to host a panel discussion on the progress NOAA has made toward DEIJ efforts and the work that still needs to be done. The panel was moderated by Nicole LeBoeuf, the Acting Assistant Administrator for NOS, and featured DEIJ advocates and leaders throughout NOAA. The panelists noted that while DEIJ is an organizational value of NOAA that is championed at all levels, there is still work to be done in keeping individuals engaged and making sure DEIJ efforts are visible and opportunities are available to all employees. 

I’ve struggled my entire life with whether, and how, to engage with DEIJ efforts. On one side, I know firsthand the importance of being a DEIJ advocate at the individual and institutional levels. I’ve been fortunate in my opportunities because of the people who took a chance on me and the people, past and present, who worked to realize their vision of a more inclusive and equitable society than the one they live in. On the other hand, as one CHOW speaker noted, “The biggest challenge is always fighting.” DEIJ work is exhausting. I’ve gone through periods where I’ve been very involved (Asian American and Korean American groups in college, DEI committees and initiatives during grad school), and then burned out, refusing to have any involvement whatsoever. The reality, however, is that as someone whose name and appearance are obviously non-white, I always have to be a DEIJ advocate, no matter how tired I am, regardless of whether I want to be an advocate or not. And, as exhausting as that work can be, listening to the speakers at CHOW renewed my energy for engaging in DEIJ work. 

So-Jung Youn and other executive board members of the Korean American Students Association (KASA) display posters about KASA's activities and events during an event welcoming new students to the College of William and Mary.

There’s something to be said for the strength and comfort you find in being surrounded by a community that’s passionate and dedicated to the same issues you care about. Listening to these speakers, I was inspired by their stories, dedication, and perseverance. These talks reminded me of why I wanted to go to graduate school and participate in the Knauss Fellowship: my interest in human connections to our natural resources and to each other. As so many speakers emphasized, relationships should be transformational, not transactional. In looking to increase DEIJ in our own spheres, it’s important to remember that we are all where we are now because of key people in our own pasts. So that’s the message I’m taking forward from CHOW 2021: DEIJ is always a work in progress, but there’s a wide community of support out there and each person, no matter where they are in their career, can make a difference in their own spheres of influence.