Research Explainer: The chemistry across a “forest” of giant clams

T. squamosa near Eilat, Israel, 2016

Another one of my PhD chapters is published in the journal G-cubed, resulting from work I did in the summer of 2016 in Israel and Jordan around the Red Sea. This is my first geochemistry article in a journal, so it is a big deal to me! I thought I’d write up a clamsplainer about what I was looking for and how we went about achieving the paper.

A slice of giant clam shell. You can see the difference between the inner and outer layers. The inner layer has visible annual growth lines.

I study the chemistry of giant clam shells. You might already be familiar with the concept of tree rings, a field called dendrochronology. It’s like reading the diary of a tree, where every “ring” is a page in the record of its life. The related field of sclerochronology looks at rings in the hard parts of shelled organisms. We can count those rings to figure out the ages of clams, or their health, and we can measure the chemistry of those rings to understand the temperature the clam grew at, and even what it ate.

A giant clam growing on the reef flat in Eilat

Giant clams are bivalves of unusually large size which achieve a very rapid growth rate through the help of symbiotic algae in their flesh. The clams are farmers, and their crop is inside their tissue! They grow their shells very quickly (sometimes up to 5 cm a year, equivalent to if a six foot tall man grew a foot every year from birth), and live a very long time, up to 100 years (their growth slows later in life). A whole bunch of talented researchers have measured the chemistry of giant clams all around the world to reconstruct past climate and even measure historic storms!

If we want to understand the ecology of a forest, we can’t measure just one tree!

But if you come back to the analogy of tree rings, we essentially have measured the rings and chemistry of individual “trees” in a bunch of different places, but don’t have as good an idea of how the chemistry varies within a “forest” of giant clams in a particular place. In our new study, we set out to describe exactly that, focusing on the Northern Red Sea.

A map of the Northern Red Sea. The right “toe” is the Gulf of Aqaba
Sites where we sampled shells along the northernmost tip of the Gulf of Aqaba

The Gulf of Aqaba represents the northernmost toe of the Red Sea, bordered by Egypt, Israel, Jordan and Saudi Arabia. It hosts some of the northernmost coral reefs in the world, aided by tropical temperatures and clear waters due to the lack of rainfall in the surrounding deserts. Here, we can find three species of giant clams including the small giant clam Tridacna maxima, the fluted giant clam T. squamosa and the very rare T. squamosina, which is found only in the Red Sea and nowhere else (as far as we know). In summer 2016, I went all around the Gulf of Aqaba collecting shells of clams from the beaches, fossil deposits, and even were able to work with shells confiscated from smugglers at the Israel-Egypt border. We cut these shells into slices and used tiny drill bits to sample powder from the cross section of their shells, which we could then conduct geochemistry with! We sampled large areas in bulk from the inner and outer portions of the shell (more on why later) using a Dremel tool, and also sampled more finely in sequential rows with a tiny dental drill bit (same brand your dentist uses!) to see how the measured temperatures varied through seasons. By “we”, I mean my coauthor and friend Ryan Thomas, who spent every Friday morning for several weeks milling out most of the powder we needed for this study. This data became part of his senior thesis at UCSC!

Two giant clams thriving on the shallow reef near Eilat, Israel

What kind of chemistry did we measure? The shells of clams are made of calcium carbonate, the same stuff Tums is made of. Calcium carbonate contains one calcium atom, one carbon atom, and three oxygen atoms. It turns out that all of those atoms come in “flavors” that we call isotopes, relating to the weight of those atoms. When you take the shell powder and put it into a machine called a mass spectrometer, you can figure out the proportions of isotopes of different elements present in the samples

The first isotope “flavors” we were interested were carbon-12 and carbon-13. The ratio of the two is thought to relate back mostly to the action of the algae inside (its symbionts) and outside the clam’s body (the floating algae the clam filters out of the water as an additional meal). This happens because as algae take carbon from the environment and bind it into sugars through photosynthesis, they naturally weight the dice in favor of carbon-12 making it into the sugars. So carbon-13 is left out in the water, and potentially in the clam’s shell. When photosynthesis is more active, it would leave the shell with proportionally more carbon-13. At least that’s what other researchers have confirmed happens in corals, and suspect happens in clams. In the world of isotope chemistry, this phenomenon is called “fractionation,” when a process causes isotopes to form fractions separated by mass. We wanted to test if that was true for giant clams, and could do so by comparing T. squamosina and T. maxima, which have more active photosynthesis, to the less photosynthetic T. squamosa.

Comparing carbon isotopes across different species and shell layers. The results are fairly flat all the way across.

It turns out that the more symbiotic species don’t have more carbon-13 in their shells. We set out several reasons that might be the case, including that the symbionts of these clams are actually more carbon-limited than many researchers might expect. Essentially, the algae lack an excess of carbon atoms to choose from, so they can’t be picky with which isotopes they use to make sugars. Therefore, the fractionation effect weakens and becomes possibly too subtle to manifest in the shell, even in the best-case scenario of three closely related species living the same area. This represents what I’d term a “null result.” We had a hypothesis and we demonstrated that hypothesis was not the case in our data. It was important to publish this result, because other researchers will know not to try the same thing. This means that when we try to search for evidence of symbiotic algae in fossil clams, we will likely need to use other types of chemistry to figure it out. But don’t worry, as finding such a “smoking gun” for algal symbiosis in fossil bivalves is part of my life’s work! I have a few projects in the works looking for exactly that kind of evidence! 😉

A look at how temperatures measured via oxygen isotopes vary through the lives of the animals. This is how scientists can use very old shells to figure out how temperatures varied through a year in prehistoric times!

But we had additional data we collected in addition to the carbon isotopes which actually turned out to provide some interesting results. This other type of measurement regarded the oxygen isotope ratio of the shells. Previous research has shown that the ratio of oxygen-18 to oxygen-16 in carbonate skeletons directly relates to temperature, a principle that has birthed a field known as paleothermometry. There are thousands of papers which use shells of corals, clams, cephalopods, microbes and more to reconstruct temperatures in ancient times. Giant clams have proven to be effective weather stations going all the way back to the Miocene epoch, millions of years ago! Because they grow so quickly (putting down a new layer every day), live for a long time, and don’t stop growing, they form very complete, high-resolution, and long records of past climate.

But no past studies had ever compared different species of giant clams from the same place. There would be interesting new lessons to draw from such a comparison, including seeing if one species preferred to grow at warmer parts of the reef. As complex, three dimensional structures, there are many remarkably different micro-environments throughout a reef, from the hot, sun-exposed reef flat and crest to the cooler, current-swept, deeper fore-reef. Do any of the species of giant clams show a consistently higher temperature than the others, and what would that mean if they did?

T. squamosina records higher temperatures than the other species. Outer shell layers also record higher temperatures than inner shell layers. More on that later in the post 😀

It turns out that the rare T. squamosina, only found in the Red Sea, does record a higher average temperature, almost 3 degrees C higher than the other two species. This is of interest because this species had been proposed by prior researchers to only live on the sun-drenched reef crest, at the shallowest part of the reef. We believe these results corroborate that observation. The previous research on the habitat of T. squamosina was limited to a single study which only was able to find 13 live animals along the coast of the Red Sea. But by independently confirming this life habit, we can ask further questions that may be borne out by further research.

An example of T. squamosina showing signs of possible bleaching (light parts at the center of its body).

Being restricted to the shallowest waters, is T. squamosina at greater risk of harvesting by humans along the shores of the region than its counterparts? Illegal poaching of giant clams along the Red Sea is believed to be a major stressor on their population size in the area. Could this explain why T. squamosina is so rare today, despite being proposed to have been more common in the past? In addition, being restricted to the top few feet of depth in the water could leave the species more vulnerable than the others to atmospheric warming. As with corals, when giant clams overheat they will “bleach”, expelling their symbiotic algae as a stress response. While the clams can recover, it is sometimes a fatal form of stress that leads to their death.

An excellent cartoon of the different shell layers in giant clams. From a peer of mine who also studies them, Michelle Gannon!

More research is needed to answer those questions. But the last aspect of this study relates to what is happening inside of the bodies and shells of the clams themselves. Giant clam shells have two layers. The outer layer grows forward away from the hinge, increasing clam’s length. The clam also makes an internal layer, growing inward to thicken the shell and add weight. We can read the growth lines of the clam’s diary within either layer, and different studies have used one or the other to make records of climate change. But very few studies have compared the two layers of the same individual. Do they record the same temperatures? Figuring it out would be important to determine how studies with just the inner layer or outer layer can be compared to each other across time and space.

A vividly blue example of the small giant clam, T. maxima. From user arthur_chapman on iNaturalist

In our studied clams, it turns out that the outer layer records warmer temperatures on average than the inner one! After ruling out other possible explanations behind this difference (the details are complicated and hard for even shell nerds to wrap our heads around), we settled on the idea that the outside of the clam is indeed warmer on average than the inside! This means that the outer layer, recording temperatures of the outer mantle, is indeed forming at a higher temperature than inside! Why is this?

Unlike us, clams are ectothermic. They generally stay the same temperature as their surrounding environment and don’t use their metabolism to generate internal heat. But that doesn’t mean that the clam doesn’t have hotter and cooler spots in its body. It makes sense that it would be hotter at the outer part of its body, facing the sun, as the solar rays hitting its outer mantle would then radiate out again as heat. The outer mantle is also darker in color than the inner mantle, allowing it to absorb more solar energy, much as you might feel hotter wearing a darker t-shirt in the sun than a white one. Photosynthesis itself produces a warming effect, a phenomenon known as non-photochemical quenching, and so the outer mantle, which contains the vast majority of the symbiotic algae, may be partially warmed by the activity of the symbionts!

More research is needed to confirm if this is true. As of yet, no researcher has ever stuck a temperature probe in multiple parts of a clam to see if the outside of it is indeed warmer than the inside. But until that day, it is interesting to think of how this would influence comparisons of diaries from the inner and outer layers of different bivalves. The effect is on the small side, so it doesn’t really mean one layer or the other should be preferred for future shell-based studies of climate change. But it could be an additional aspect to consider in the future as a way to record temperature differences within the body of an animal, and look into how those differences influence its overall level of stress.

Examples of juvenile smooth giant clams, T. derasa, that we’re growing at Biosphere 2. Photo by Katie Morgan.

So I hope this long explanation of my paper helps you to have a better idea of the work I did during my PhD thesis. There were other aspects to the paper that are too wonkish to get into here, particularly concerning the correlation we found between carbon and oxygen isotope ratios, but if you have questions or want a copy of the PDF, please message me! I have more clam papers in the pipeline, and my new postdoc at Biosphere 2 involves growing three species of giant clams in a controlled environment, where I hope to answer some of the physiological questions I mentioned above! But until then, stay hinged and happy as a clam (as much is possible in this chaotic time), and take comfort knowing there are colorful bivalves out there all at this very moment, harvesting sunlight for food and growing huge shells.

Oh, the seasons they grow! [research blog]

My latest clamuscript is published in Palaios, coauthored with my advisor Matthew Clapham! It’s the first chapter of my PhD thesis, and it’s titled “Identifying the Ticks of Bivalve Shell Clocks: Seasonal Growth in Relation to Temperature and Food Supply.” I thought I’d write a quick post describing why I tackled this project, what I did, what I found out, and what I think it means! Raw unformatted PDF of it here on my publication page.

Why I did this project:

I study the growth bands of bivalve (“clam”) shells. Bivalves create light and dark shell growth bands as they grow their shells, much like the rings of a tree. The light bands form during happy times for the clam, when it is growing quickly and putting down lots of carbonate. The dark bands appear during times of cessation, when the bivalve ceases growth during a hibernation-like period. This can happen in the cold months, or the hot months, or both, or neither, depending on the clam and where it lives. It turns out that there are a lot of potential explanations for why these annual cessations of growth happen. Different researchers have suggested through the years that temperature (high or low) is the biggest control on the seasons that bivalves grow, but others have suggested that food supply is more important. Others say it’s mostly a function of the season they reproduce, when they’re putting most of their energy into making sperm/eggs and not growing their bodies. I wanted to try to see if I could find trends across all of bivalves which would shed light on which factors are important in determining their season of growth.

Capture.PNG
Annual growth lines in the shell of a giant clam. The transparent spots are the times that it was growing more slowly and not happy. Was this because of temperatures? Or was it getting less to eat? I wanted to know.

What I did:

I read a ton of papers in the historical literature about bivalves. These were written by people in many fields: aquaculture, marine ecology, paleoclimate researchers (using the clams shells as a chemical record of temperature), and more. All of the papers were united by describing the seasons that the bivalves grew, and the seasons that they stopped growing. I ended up with nearly 300 observations of marine (saltwater) bivalve growth for dozens of species from all around the world. I had papers as old as the earliest 1910s, and some as new as last year.

map.PNG
A map of all the places the observation of bivalve growth came from. Blue means they shut down in the winter, while red means they do not.

We have mussels, oysters, scallops, clams, cockles, geoducks, giant clams, razor clams, quahogs, and more in the database. Bivalves that burrow. Bivalves that sit on the surface of the sediment. Bivalves that stick onto rocks. Bivalves that can swim. With each, I noted data that the researchers recorded. If they grew during a season, I coded it as a 1. If they didn’t, I coded it as a 0. So a bivalve growing in summer but not winter would be recorded as 1,0. I also recorded environmental data including temperature of the location in winter and summer in the location, as well as seasonal supply of chlorophyll (a measure of phytoplankton, which is the main source of food for most clams). It turned out that not enough of the studies recorded temperature or chlorophyll for their sites, so I wanted to back these up with an additional data source. I downloaded satellite-based temperature and chlorophyll data for each location, as well as additional studies which directly measured chlorophyll at each site. I wanted lots of redundant environmental data to ensure that any trend or lack of trend I observed in my analysis was not due to a weakness of the data.

I then compared the occurrence of shutdown by season with these environmental variables using a statistical technique called regression. Regression basically involves trying to relate a predictor variable (in this case, latitude, temperature and chlorophyll during a certain season) to the response variable (did the clam grow in that season or not?). We wanted to see which environmental variable relates most closely to whether or not the clam grows or not. Because our dependent variable was binary (0 or 1), we used a technique called logistic regression, which tries to model the “log odds” of an event occurring in response to the predictor variable. That log odds can then be back-calculated to probability of the event occurring.

What we found:

shutdowns.PNG

In a clamshell, we found that latitude (distance from the equator) is a very good predictor of whether or not a bivalve shuts down for the winter. As you’d expect, bivalves in the far north and far south of our planet are more likely to take a winter nap. However, bivalves at the equator mostly grow year round and are not likely to take a summer nap. In relation to temperature, the lower the winter temperature, the more likely the bivalve is to stop shell growth. High summer temperature is not as good a predictor for the occurrence of a summer shutdown, but the majority of summer shutdowns seem to occur at the low temperate latitudes, where the difference between the annual range of temperature is largest. Unlike at the equator, where bivalves likely can adapt to the hottest temperatures and be happy clams, they have to adapt to a huge range of temperatures in places like the American Gulf and Atlantic coasts, the Adriatic and Gulf of California. And if they are restricted at the northward end of their range, they may have no choice but to shut down in summer as there is nowhere cooler to migrate to.

Picture1
GIF of the satellite data showing white as hotspots of phytoplankton ability. Notice that the food is more available in summer months for each hemisphere. We were trying to see if this relates back to when the bivalves grow in every place we had data for.

Food supply, on the other hand, is not a good predictor of when bivalves shut down. When we went into this project, we expected food to be a powerful control on seasonal growth because it is intuitive and well understood that the better fed a bivalve is, the larger it will grow overall. But the seasonal low amount of chlorophyll (and therefore the amount of photosynthesizing plankton) in the bivalves’ areas had no relationship to whether or not the bivalve shut down in a certain season. To double check that this wasn’t a weakness in my satellite data, I downloaded additional direct observations from the same places as many bivalve studies in the dataset, but I still couldn’t find the relationship. We propose that the seasonal supply of phytoplankton is not well related to seasonal growth of bivalves because: 1) phytoplankton supply isn’t very seasonal in nature in most of the sites we studied. There are peaks in multiple seasons rather than a clean up and down wave shape like temperature. 2) Bivalves are pretty flexible in what they eat. They also eat other types of plankton and suspended particles that are even less seasonal. It may be pretty difficult to find bivalves that are seasonally starving. One of the most probable places to find such starvation shutdowns might be the poles, where seasonal ranges of temperature are quite small but plankton does really have a seasonal pattern of availability. More research will be needed to describe the nature of polar bivalves and why they shut down growth.

What’s next?
This is the first chapter of my PhD. I have two more chapters I’m working on, both related to the geochemistry of bivalve shells. I am writing those manuscripts this summer and looking for postdoctoral fellowships in the fall related to geochemistry of marine organisms in the fossil record. I hope to pursue more projects looking at the season of growth in bivalves, switching to understanding the role that changing seasonal cycles in their environment and biology play in their evolution. Do bivalves that live closer together tend to reproduce at different times? Can we track season of reproduction in relation to temperature and food supply? There are a lot more clam stories to be told and I look forward to sharing them all with you. Until the next research blog,

Dan

 

The insidious cost of increased class sizes: A TA’s perspective

UC Santa Cruz, like all UC schools, is in the midst of a massive regent-mandated effort to increase enrollment. In the face of a governor hostile to the idea of investing in education (despite his prior promises), the regents have decided that we are going to grow our way out of the budget shortfall. Much has been said about the foolishness of this plan from the standpoint of housing, student tuition and access to resources, but I thought I’d talk about the cost it has had on me personally as a Teaching Assistant (TA).

TAs are usually graduate students working on a doctorate or master’s degree. We are paid 50% wages on the assumption we spend 20 hours a week working on TA stuff to support our other 20 hours (ha!) of work a week on our thesis and classes. Our tuition is waived and we receive health benefits.

In the last two years, my department’s academic division has been cutting TAships while pressuring the department to enroll more students. For four years, I’ve been teaching the lab section for Environmental Geology (EART 20), which has given me a natural laboratory to note the impact that increased class size has had on my instruction. I’d also note that my experience has been less extreme than other TA’s because EART 20’s enrollment has been flat overall during the time I’ve taught. But the lab section has doubled in size from 22 to 45 students, possibly because we have more majors declaring and they need the lab credit for their degree.

Here are some ways my instruction has been impacted by doubling of students:

Grading time

As a TA, I am supposed to only spend 20 hours a week on instruction. I’m literally not allowed by my union to spend more time than that. And fortunately, because I have been able to slowly tweak my lesson plans over many years, I now have a lot less prep time than I did when I started teaching this class. The lesson plans are already put together, and I can just focus on polishing and perfecting the lessons. However, the time I need to grade has ballooned to at least double what it used to be. I say at least double, because I usually get tired after the 30th lab and start to slow down.

My detail in grading is also impacted because I cannot spend as much time looking and commenting on each student’s assignment. So while they’re paying higher tuition than their compatriots from four years ago, they are getting less instructor time dedicated to feedback on their work. Note that our department has tried to make up for this by hiring graders to assist TAs, but I insist on grading my own labs because I need to understand how students are learning and responding to my assigned material.

Less physical space for students

Our building used to have large, luxurious desks perfect for specimen-rich lab sections. But they unfortunately couldn’t fit more than 20 students in a room with those so they have put in smaller, flimsy desks to stuff more students in. These desks are narrow and crammed together to allow up to 30 students in the room. As a lab instructor, I prefer to walk around and answer student questions looking at the specimen we’re talking about until they understand and have that light-bulb moment. But I can’t do that anymore because the desks are so close together. So instead I now sit at the front of the room and they come up to me. I hate this and I know I get less questions than I would if I could walk around. It is another way that they aren’t getting their money’s worth.

Less interactivity

The UC claims to be a big cheerleader for the active learning style of teaching. Active learning is different than the classic lecture-based format in that exercises are designed to maximize student participation and interactivity between the student and instructor, hopefully leading to learning by experience rather than example. But active learning requires more grading time and a different classroom layout than the classic lecture format. And I have had to revise my labs over the years to reduce interactivity out of necessity. In the past, I’ve made a landscape out of play-dough for students to map out topographic profiles. This year, there were just too many students for it to work. They scrunched together around the model, with some deciding to wait until my office hours to get time doing it. It was sad to watch this. Next time, I’ll make two models to space through the room so it isn’t so claustrophobic.

Take-away

These problems are only going to get worse, as our department is currently under pressure to increase enrollment and has less TAships to offer every year. We are often criticized for our low student to instructor ratio! Yet tuition is increasing. Students are getting less value for the same course offered four years ago. I’ve observed it with my own eyes. I feel a pang of sadness each lab section seeing the ways it reduces the quality of instruction. I spend more time to try to lessen the impact of these creeping changes, but something’s got to give. I hope Californians realize that the value of our legendary UC schools is under attack. I hope we invest more into education and don’t forget that the UCs helped make our state great. I hope Jerry Brown cements his legacy by increasing UC funding.

 

Things I wish I knew/did earlier in grad school

  • Keep a journal of every research-related idea you have and every research-related action you take. Seriously, find the most frictionless way you can keep notes and stick to it. Your brain will thank you later.
  • Ask for help whenever possible, but with the knowledge that many of the issues you have will have no troubleshooting manual.
  • Crude, hacked together and done is better than perfect and never finished.
  • Work when you feel productive. Sleep when you feel less productive. Use the benefits of being a self-scheduled researcher to your advantage.
  • Don’t feel guilty to be involved in grad student life and service. These activities give a mission and direction to your research.
  • Take on a mentee. It is such a massive boost to your own productivity to take charge of managing and encouraging another less experienced person’s work. It will push you to practice what you preach.
  • Make sure your family and loved ones know what you do and what is expected of you, so they aren’t upset when you aren’t free to talk or have to work a late night.
  • Don’t hold on to the paper you’re working on too long. Chances are that there is someone out there doing a similar project based on an idea that they had at the same time as you, and you don’t want to get scooped.
  • If someone more experienced than you who you respect disagrees with your findings, that doesn’t mean you’re wrong.
  • Don’t be afraid to overhaul a project you have based on new information. This is the stage of your career when you are not invested in a theory or particular method. You can quickly change tack to use new analyses and pursue new research questions with little or no cost. Your committee will understand.
  • NEVER show off how much you work. We all work a ton (yes, you do too, don’t let that impostor syndrome get you) and there is no need to hero-worship based on how many hours we work a week.