"He smells"

Corey burst into my office in his typical abrupt manner and flopped down in the chair next to my desk. We chatted for a few seconds about I don't know what and then his scent reached my nostrils. Ugh, I thought. He smells like a seal. So I said to him, "You smell like a seal." Which is not surprising, as he is post-doctoral researcher studying the elephant seals and spends a good part of his day handling the massive animals. It struck me as funny that I knew that smell. Not only did I know that he smelled like a seal, I knew he smelled like an ELEPHANT seal, and a southern elephant seal at that, not to be confused with the musk of a fur seal, or even a northern elephant seal. If he had sat down next to someone who had not spent time on Macquarie Island (or someplace else where southern elephant seals breed in great numbers), like say, my mother, she would have thought to herself, "ugh. He smells." but she wouldn't have had a word for what he smelled like, she wouldn't have been able to accurately identify the smell. I know there are at least 38 people that know this smell well, not to mention the hundreds that have spent a little time on this island- still, a pretty small percentage of the world population.

And it isn't just the elephant seal smell carried by a sealer (an ecologist, Corey would add- just don't call me a marine biologist) that we are familiar with- we know what a southern elephant seal smells like, as a nice clean weaner or in a pile of stinky moulting seals, wallowing in mud and feces, or a big bull dead and rotting on the beach. We know what king penguins smell like, which is different from gentoos, which is different from royals which is still different from rockhoppers. We know the smell of thick cold slippery kelp washed ashore to rot, as well as rotting kelp with ellie seals wallowing in it. We know what the deep vacated seal wallows in the tussock grass smell like, full of festering water and scary bacteria. We know the almost woody scent of the giant petrel, and I even know the rotten-cheese-in-fish-oil smell of their vomit (don't ask- it's a long story.) Now, I am not saying that we are lucky to know these smells or that smelling these smells is an even remotely pleasant experience, or that you wish you knew what these things smell like. I am just sharing this idea that being on Macca has expanded my olfactory vocabulary, which strikes me as funny. So there you have it. (It's like that time, Tony, when we were camping in the Laramies with Lauren and Michael, and Michael's dogs bounded up to you right after they had been romping in the stagnant beaver ponds and you said "Eeeew, dogs! Get away from me! You smell like anaerobic bacteria!" whereas someone not scientifically oriented might have said they smelled like something else...)

"Just move slow"

Speaking of stinky fur seals- over dinner one night, I was sharing my famous story of my first encounter with a fur seal, which pretty much involves: seal startled awake, sees Nathan, leaps after Nathan with a blood curdling roar, I yell "Run, Nathan, RUN!" Nathan scrambles up a rock stack to safety. Hearts pounding and knees shaky for a while. We had been on the island for about a month at that time, and were pretty accustomed to the ellie seals who, if they react to your presence at all, will rear up and croak at you for a few seconds before they become exhausted (or bored?) and go back to sleep. And generally, the big boys will crack one eye to look at the tiny pathetic creature that is you and realize that you cannot possibly be a threat and just go right back to sleep. There are very few fur seals on the island (about 800 during the breeding season, compared to 100,000 ellie seals), so we didn't know what they were like, and figured they would be much the same. Not exactly, as we found. Each of my subsequent fur seal experiences were variations on this theme- me hiking along the coast, thinking about geology, waking a sleeping fur seal, it exploding like a rock coming to life, me falling/jumping off to the beach/water/more rocks, both of us fleeing each other screaming/barking. Nothing on the island moves as fast as they do on land (except for our dogs, Kim and Tua- more about them later- but they are sweet and want you to give them pets) and they have always held a little pocket of fear in my heart.

Bec, one of our intrepid fur seal biologists overheard my story. She leaned in my direction across the table and invited me to come out with her for a day, to see the animals up close, the idea being that this would help me get over my fear. What a good idea, I said weakly, a forced smile on my face. Just what I wanted to do- be intentionally close to the one thing that really scares me on this island.

So the next morning, she asked me if I wanted to come over with her and having thought about it, I had decided that it actually was a good idea, one of those "good for you" kind of experiences, like going to the dentist. So I packed up a backpack and we headed up over North Head to the fur seal harems.

The fur seals were the reason why people came to be on Macquarie Island in the first place. The island was discovered, by accident, in July 1810. Its location was meant to be kept secret, for the discoverers wanted to be the only ones to harvest the luscious pelts from the plentiful fur seals, which they exported primarily to China and Europe. This secret-keeping was a massive failure (the story goes that the ship's captain was tricked into revealing the island's whereabouts one drunken night in Sydney) and three separate sealing gangs (in this case, sealers that kill seals as opposed to the current usage of sealers that study seals) had landed by December. 120,000 pelts were removed in the first 18 months. In 1815, only 5,000 were shipped back, the number of fur seals had declined so dramatically. By 1820 the fur seal population was essentially extinct- a few stragglers would visit, but no fur seals were sighted in great numbers. (Don't worry about those practical sealers though- they quickly moved on the elephant seals which they harvested for their oil, and when that became difficult due to decline in their numbers, they moved on to king penguin oil, and then on to royal penguin oil. All exploitation of animals ceased in 1920, but it isn't clear if this was due to public pressure to declare the island a wildlife sanctuary or simply because it wasn't profitable anymore. Anyway, back to the fur seals...)

We don't know today what species of fur seal was or were on the island at that time, so thorough were the sealers in eradicating all traces of the animals. But in recent years (the first new pups were sighted in 1955), they have returned and are recovering . There are three species that visit us here: antarctic (Arctocephalus gazella), sub-antarctic (A. tropicalis) and New Zealand (A. forsteri), with the "gazellas" and "trops" (as they are familiarly known) maintaining breeding colonies. The gazella and trop harems are all on North Head- they are "philopatric" animals (I just rang Corey in his office to spell that for me...) which means they almost always return to the place where they were born, and the first new pups were born on North Head, so that is where the population has nucleated. Apparently, last year, two girls had their pups down at Hurd Point, but no bulls were there. Perhaps new harems will gather there in the next few years.

The harem structure is quite different from the elly seal harems of hundreds of cows and bloody battles between bulls trying to control all those cows. The fur seal harems are much smaller, maybe 15 females at most, the females pretty much choose which male they want to hang around with, and the boys seem to be cool with that. Bec seems to think that the girls like the tough and cranky boys the best- There is one boy who returns year after year, always lies in the same place, doesn't care at all if he is approached by people or is anyone comes into his territory, and guess what? He has never gotten any females. (It looks like this year his luck may have changed though- a girl has given birth in his territory- we'll see if she sticks around!) Basically, the boys come ashore in October and establish their areas (the gazellas arrive slightly earlier than the trops) then the girls come up and choose their mates.

Bec and I talked about all of this as we hiked up and over North Head. She has worked on fur seals on Kangaroo island as well, and is really knowledgeable and enthusiastic about her subjects. As we descended into the first bay, I got my first familiar whiff of fur seal. They have a strong, pungent scent, almost reminiscent of a skunk, or a person who has been in the field wearing polypropylene long underwear for a week (oh, yeah- that's another smell to add to the list!). You often smell fur seals before you see them, but this time as we were coming down the cliff onto their beach, I had a long look as we approached. The smell alone made me a little nervous- old habits die hard, I suppose. Bec zipped down the slippery slope as I cautiously picked my way over the tussocks, but she waited for me at the base, to give me a little briefing.

"Just move slow," she said, "stay calm, and they will too. The boys will be protective of their territories, but as long as you stay out of their zone, they'll be fine. If you cross the line, they'll let you know- just back up, and when you are out of their area, they won't care." Sure, I said, okay. On the beach were three or four gazella harems, widely spaced. Each one had about five girls per boy. The seals are beautiful animals, when you take the time to look at them, and almost remind me of dogs, the way they interact with each other and move. The boys are much bigger than the girls, and have thick, broad chests while the girls are more delicate. The pups are possibly some of the cutest animals on the planet, dark floppy bags of fur that quickly strike out in little gangs, harassing each other and exploring the beaches. Bec pointed out three seals frolicking at the waters edge. "Do you see those three sub-adult males? They have been there, playing, for two weeks. Every day I come over here and there they are, the same three SAMs, playing and playing." She said this with a smile. I had to admit, they WERE pretty cute, leaping and twirling over each other. We stopped at the first harem while Bec looked for their tags with her binoculars. Every pup born on Macquarie Island is tagged while they are very small, which gives a means to track the population. I stayed close to here, a little afraid to get any closer to the seals than she was, even though the animals didn't seem to mind our presence. "Oh, look there," Bec said, "do you see that cow? Watch her belly." I saw which cow she was talking about, a girl lying on her back, seemingly asleep. As I watched, her belly undulated. "It's her pup," Bec said, almost in a whisper, a huge grin on her face. "Oh, she's about to pop!" We watched for a while, but a birth was not forthcoming, so we moved along to the next harems, Bec "re-sighting" and taking notes, me bugging her with questions and taking pictures. (Meanwhile, the SAMs followed us in the water as we moved down the beach- this photo is one of them who decided to come ashore to check us out!)

I asked her about the trops, noticing that we hadn't seen any yet. "Oh there's a couple of boys back," she said,"but no girls yet- I'll take you over to see one of the boys, he is just mooning about, calling and calling for his girls. Soon, they'll be here too. He's just beautiful- wait 'till you see him." And he was beautiful, with a broad pale chest and a little crest on his head like a crew-cut, much more striking than the gazellas.

I was getting a little braver now, and I walked along the edge of a harem, away from Bec, moving in for a better photograph. Through the viewfinder, I noticed the bull as he noticed me. He began to make a sound, a repetitive growl-squeak-"humph" noise, almost like the sound of a bicycle tire being inflated, as he swayed back and forth looking at me. I froze. He continued his calling, and began to slowly approach me, swaying with his paces, brushing past his girls, me ever wary of his really big teeth and superior size. I began to back up, moving in sync with him, as I glanced over to Bec, keeping one eye on the seal. She was smiling at me, which I figured was a sign that death wasn't imminent, so I kept backing up, he kept walking forward until suddenly, he stopped. He sat and looked at me for a while, then returned to his family. I crossed over to Bec. "Did you see how he stopped?" she asked. "You backed out of his space, and were no longer a threat. If you had run, you would have freaked him out even more." She praised me for my response and bravery (big brave geologist!)- I had followed instructions, and everything was fine.

Since that day, I have returned a couple of times to check on their progress. It is a short walk, maybe 20 minutes, with a couple of steep climbs, so it is a good way to get a little exercise after or before lunch while I am on station. The pups are popping out everywhere, stroppy little tough guys, cruising and napping all over the beach. Unlike the ellie seal cows that give birth, nurse, then leave their pups to fend for themselves in a period of six weeks (during which time they fast), fur seals invest a little more in their pups. The gazella mums nurse for 4 months and the trops for 10 with foraging trips throughout the nursing period, giving the pups a slower start to their independence. The interactions between the animals are endlessly fascinating- they are so active and vocal.

So the end result was yes, it worked. Spending a little time watching the animals has helped me fear them quite a bit less (although I still maintain a very healthy respect for them!) I just read a note on the board that Bec wrote today- she is looking for someone to help her catch and mark pups this week- maybe I'll volunteer...I'll let you know how it goes if I do! (Corey studied fur seals, forsteri in New Zealand, for his PhD- he caught thousands of pups, assisted by hundreds of volunteers. Some of these volunteers quit after a day, after they found out that catching fur seals isn't like a Disney movie- they defecate on you and bite you and they HURT with their sharp little teeth, so I am thinking long and hard before I volunteer....)

Send in the dogs

I have been doing geology too, for those of you who might be wondering after reading all these tales of critters! My last trip, I was back at Green Gorge mapping stratigraphy in volcanics again. There is a small group of sea mounts near there on the plateau (small volcanoes that were active on the sea floor), which I sampled in addition to the coastal section that I mapped. One extraordinarily still and sunny afternoon, I was on top of Pyramid Peak, trying to prise a bit of glass from the rim of a pillow basalt, when I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I looked up, and saw nothing. I went back to work, banging on my chisel, when I heard the sound of a rock or two tumbling down a slope. I glanced down the gully to my right, but still there was nothing. I went back to work, and a few seconds later, up bounded brown and curly Kim, half of our crack cat-hunting dog team. In her wake came Tua, her partner, and behind them both Sandy, the ranger who handles them. "It was such a lovely day, we thought we'd come see what you were up to!" said Sandy. (This is another thing I like about working on Macquarie Island- everyone you bump into in the field is someone you KNOW- there is never any mystery or worry about scary people like you get in other field areas!) We chatted for a while about geology and the dogs, her work and mine, while Tua and Kim snuffled about the basalt pillows.

In addition to decimating the animal population on Macquarie Island by intentionally killing them, man has also caused damage to this delicate eco-system by introducing pests. Rats, mice, slugs and rabbits are a huge problem now, destroying the vegetation and habitats of the native residents. The rats and mice escaped from ships, slugs sneak in on boots and fresh vegetables, while the rabbits were brought by sealers for food. Additionally, cats, brought as pets and gone feral, have been a huge problem in the past, as all of the birds here are ground nesters that aren't adequately equipped to deal with hunters as efficient as cats. The Tasmanian Parks and Wildlife Service (who manages the island) has had a huge cat eradication program going for the last several years, poisoning and shooting, which has recently come to fruition- no cats have been sighted since winter of last year. Enter the dogs, as the final phase of the program. Tua and Kim were trained in New Zealand, first to hunt feral rabbits in Australia, and then re-trained to hunt cats on Macca. With Sandy, their handler, they roam the island in search of cats, to ferret out and destroy the last of them, if indeed there are any left. They haven't found any yet, which is good- it seems there are so few success stories in restoring anthropogenic damage, but this one seems to be! When the program is officially declared finished, they'll be sent back to the mainland, off to hunt something else!

So I'll be back for a little while, until I go out on my next rock hunting trip, and then I'll be back again for the holidays. I am almost finished with my volcanic work, then I move down to the peridotites, then the dikes and finally the gabbros!

I hope you all are well-

Karah