Puerto Mosquito

My time in Vieques has been precious and short. While I’ve done little traveling and certainly never spent three weeks away from home or school, these three weeks have been some of the fastest, yet most exciting and intensely beautiful, weeks I’ve ever experienced. It’s a shame to have to leave Vieques right when I feel like I’m beginning to get to know this island, but other adventures await me, even if one of them will be conquering another polar vortex to get home.

Without a doubt, one of my favorite experiences from Vieques will always be seeing the magic of the Bioluninescent Bay. I’ve been to the Puerto Mosquito during the day. I’ve pulled the trust’s boat behind me with research equipment inside, felt the clay-like mud underneath suck at my toes, and scrubbed at research equipment to make sure they are collecting the most accurate readings. I’ve shouted out numbers describing how clear the water is, how much oxygen it contains, the temperature, pH and salinity. I’ve even looked at images of Pyrodinium bahamense, the dinoflagellates responsible for the nightly glow, magnified to see their structure. In many ways, a large part of my life at the trust has evolved around Puerto Mosquito, and mentally, I knew what would happen when I visited the bay at night. Yet I was not prepared.

A couple months ago on a rainy Saturday afternoon, I wandered into the Davis Museum at Wellesley. There was an exhibit there that featured a film of a tree, moving in the breeze, spanning five different screens. The tree had been captured in five different films to make the point that it was impossible to capture the full tree, the beauty of it, in one frame. If you zoom the focus out to get the whole tree in one shot, the image becomes about the landscape, not the tree. This idea is what came to mind when I thought about trying to photograph the Biobay. Even if I were able to capture the dim glow of the dinoflagellates, the moonrise over the water, or the mysterious band of creatures swimming too far beneath the surface to even be seen, I would never be able to capture the essence of the Biobay, and that is why, in a blog where I’ve delighted in showing what goes on in Vieques, I have no pictures.

The conditions of the evening weren't destined to be perfect for a night on the Biobay. It was the night after the full moon, meaning a brilliantly bright moon would rise over the bay, outshining the dinoflagellates. Thankfully, there was a large group of clouds that shrouded the moon for the first half of the tour. As I climbed onto the large boat, sonde machine in hand to test the water quality, I listened to Mark giving an impromptu tour of the Biobay he's worked to protect. He described how a unique combination of traits including the hidden entrance to the bay, the water temperature, and the mangroves among other things made Puerto Mosquito have the highest concentration of  bioluminescent dinoflagellates in the world. Then, as the workers on the boat began to stomp, the water lit up as fish, mostly mullets, swam away from the boat. Then people were allowed to dip their hands and feet in the water and watch the sparkles dance around them. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and when a manta ray leaped out of the water creating an eerie glow in its wake, the evening for me was complete. However, this natural resource needs to be protected every day since the whole system is based on a delicate balance of many factors. There are other bioluminescent bays that have just stopped glowing, and if anything were to change in Vieques, whether caused by humans or not, Puerto Mosquito could have the same fate.

Another thing that I have been diving into has been the movement to get rid of lionfish. I have spent the last week creating, translating, and practicing presentations on these invasive beauties. I was even so lucky as to go to a local junior high school on Wednesday and present to a class about the cool abilities of lionfish as well as how everyone can help to fight their populations in the Atlantic, even if it is by eating them. Before the presentation however, we needed to capture some more lionfish to show the children. Mark spotted them under a seagrass bed right off the Malecón in Esperanza and we went in to capture them. What makes this particular fish any more special than the others I have posted on this blog? This time, I caught the fish. I can officially say I've done my part to help fight lionfish, although I wish I had more time to work on it.

If you are every in Puerto Rico though, I highly recommend visiting Vieques. Go to the Biobay, drink a piña colada on the Malecón, order lionfish, go snorkeling, pay homage to the Ceiba tree, and don't forget to visit the Vieques Conservation and Historical Trust. It will be an experience you never forget.

Descubrimiento

The last couple of days in Vieques have been a whirlwind of discovery for me. I've learned some new species of fish, seen some that I knew for the first time in their natural environment, and even gotten to see the inside of community activities in the protection of the natural resources here.
Last Saturday we went snorkeling under the pier near the Malecón in Esparanza. We were accompanied by Emily, who is working on her thesis here on the invasive lionfish, as well as a student joining us from a college class trip visiting the islands of Puerto Rico. We capture one more lionfish, this one much smaller than the one we had previously captured, and found some other fish to visit our educational aquarium. Unlike larger aquariums that keep their fish stocked permanently, "The Smallest Aquarium in the World" as we fondly call it only houses the animals here on a temporary basis. They live with us for a week or two, help us to educate the community, and then are released back where we found them. Here are a couple of my favorite new visitors:

This is a Barred Hamlet. The Shakespeare nerd in me at first thought that it was a "Bard Hamlet," but regardless of my misunderstanding, this fish is incredibly beautiful. It changed color right before my eyes as it adjusted to the tank. Mark told me that the Barred Hamlet, like many fish, changes the intensity of its colors depending on its mood. When it was first put in the tank, the blue stripes were hardly visible, but within a few minutes he changed his colors and started eyeballing us.

Speaking of fish that change colors, see if you can spot the peacock flounder. It is one of my favorite games to play with people visiting aquariums. The flounder, of course, is famous for changing its coloring to blend in with the environment. When it is young, it swims and looks like a normal fish, with one eye on each side of its face, but as it grows, the eyes migrate to meet each other and it starts swimming flat. The Peacock Flounder, however, can be distinguished by the bright blue rings on its body. Think you've found it yet? Check at the end of the post to see if you got it right.

This is a Flamingo Tongue Snail, or in Spanish "Lengua de Flamenco," which I think suits it better. These snails are often found in male and female pairs and eat soft corals like sea fans. That beautiful design isn't actually the snail's shell but its mantle, which covers the plain shell you can see peaking out in the middle.

These aren't exactly my favorite fish, but it's interesting to see the variety of sizes of lionfish you can find out in the water. The larger of the two is still relatively small for a lionfish, and both are too small to serve for dinner, but it's important to remove them from the ocean before they can do any real damage nonetheless. Vieques is full of so many interesting species it is worth trying to maintain the natural balance.

Aside from snorkeling, I was also allowed to sit it on a community meeting where they discussed the protection of the Bioluminescent Bay here in Vieques as well as the accessibility of the bay to locals and tourists. Puerto Mosquito is one of the brightest and healthiest bioluminescent bays in the world. When the water is irritated at night, tiny dinoflagellates called Pyrodinium bahamense create the light as a way to protect themselves, and the effect is almost otherworldly. Although people have a variety of ideas of what is best for the bay, what was evident was that the bay is a very important part of life here in Vieques. Whether you appreciate the bay for its incredible beauty or for the science behind its nightly glow, it is important to protect this natural resource for future generations of locals as well as visitors.
If you are still looking for the Peacock Flounder, check out the image below. If you want to see the Peacock Flounder in action, check out the video.

Bienvenidos a Vieques

The other day I woke up in subzero temperatures and went to bed with a balmy breeze tickling my face. For once this transition wasn't due to the inconsistent nature of New England weather but was a marker of my transition to a different country, a different climate, and in some ways a different world. After three flights, a five hour delay, and a dark car ride in which I caught the blurry forms of horses, palm trees, and the occasional home illuminated by Christmas lights, I had arrived at my temporary home on the beautiful island of Vieques.

I am here for the next three weeks as an intern for the Vieques Conservation and Historical Trust where I will assist the trust in it's mission to promote awareness of the natural resources of the island and to protect it's natural beauty, whether it is from pollutants spread by humans or invasive species like the gorgeous but voracious lionfish. In the past couple of days I've gotten a crash course in measuring water quality in the Bioluminescent Bay, maintaining salt water aquariums, and even on the damaging effects of invasive Green Iguanas. 

On Thursday I accompanied the biweekly trip from the VCHT to Playa Grande to look at the old sugar mill. Our guide, who likes to be called "Estufa Caliente," described the way in which the sugar cane was pressed then fed into a trough, refined, and stored. He also showed the visitors the old trains and tracks that ran through the area to facilitate shipping. In various places bricks and other portions of the ruins that had been pilfered, showing just how easy it is to lose what we don't protect. The ruins were a haunting reminder of times past and also in the ability of nature to reclaim what man has created. 

Friday was the first day I got to experience the underwater world of Vieques. I accompanied Mark as he went snorkeling, searching for the invasive lionfish underneath piers and rocky overhangs. These fish are native to the Indopacific region, but because of their beautiful fins and coloring have been a common aquarium fish. It is generally believed that they were first introduced to the Atlantic Ocean when a few of the fish got too big for the tanks and the owners released them into the ocean. Now they are a big problem with an even bigger appetite. These voracious feeders can eat up to twenty fish a day, can survive weeks without food, and have no natural predators in the tropical waters of the Atlantic. In addition, their dorsal, anal, and pelvic fins all have venomous spines, so capturing them is a delicate process. Thankfully they are delicious, and there is a movement to sell lionfish in restaurants and to teach people how to catch them and prepare them themselves. In the meantime, the VCHT goes on regular lionfish scouting trips, and thanks to a great time effort, I was able to help capture this bad boy yesterday. He's currently sitting innocuously in our lionfish tank, staring at me while I write this post.

It's been such a whirlwind of a first week. Between meeting new people, trying to improve my Spanish, and discovering the natural beauty of the island, I couldn't have had a greater introduction to island living. I'm so excited to find out what's next.