Day in the Life...

I pull off my mask and squint past the glare off the turquoise water and look towards the shore. Its time to head back to the beach. We’ve spent the morning snorkeling through a thick tangle of seagrass off of 13 Fisherman’s, attempting to find humbug populations for our boss. She's investigating effects of estrogen pollution on fish behavior, but first we have to locate suitable study populations. Yes, humbugs are fish. So far, the morning efforts have been a bit fruitless. Humbugs prefer coral, they like to dart in and out of the calcified fingers of the saghorn, hiding in crevices when we approach. There isn't much coral amongst the sea grass. And I've managed to drop the measuring tape into one of the beds, getting stung across my face by the hydroids covering the grass blades as I reached to retrieve it.

As I peel off my wetsuit, worn for sun protection, not the cold, the seawater on my skin transitions directly to sweat without drying. It is HUMID. Wringing out my knotted hair, I reach for the sunblock-- I have the sneaking suspicion that all this sun is giving me a line of freckles along my upper lip, which from a distance, resembles a mustache. By the end of the month, I will look like my Costa Rican field assistant Mauricio.

Despite the heat, humidity, stinging hydroids and my fledgling ‘stache, it has been yet another amazing morning. We came across an anemonefish pair along one of the transects. An eagle ray, with at least a 4 foot wingspan, glided past me as I stopped to adjust my mask. A juvenile golden trevally followed me back to shore, swimming between my body and clipboard. And now, after a late picnic lunch in the shade of the ironwoods, Lucy suggests an afternoon off to relax at Wing Beach.

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Snorkel and mask in one hand, fins in the other, I scurry across the hot sand baking under the mid-afternoon sun. Sitting halfway in the water as I pull my fins on, I pause to take in my surroundings. The tide is out, the water calm, and we are the only people on the beach. The warm water feels great on my bare skin (finally, no wetsuit!) as I slip all the way in and lazily swim along the edge of the reef. The water is so calm that the garden of coral and fish are reflected perfectly above me at the surface. I come across a huge jellyfish, trapped among the staghorn by the falling tide. The long white antennae of a pair of red and white cleanershrimp jut out from the crevice they have tucked themselves into. A bluestreak cleaner wrasse busily attends to two pennate bannerfish as a school of orangespine unicornfish and bullethead parrotfish zip past. I watch a small, chubby, jeweled blenny greedily ripping off chunks of algae.

The rough life of the field biologist…

A few hours later I pull myself out of the water. Its nearly sunset and the tide is lower still, the tops of the staghorn coral are beginning to protrude from the smooth surface of the water. Tomorrow, the tips will be bleached white. A few more people have joined us at the beach. Fish and coconuts are roasting over a fire nearby, a brother and sister chase each other along the waters edge.

Its time to head back, cook dinner. My stomach growls as I catch a whiff of the fish.

Walking back across the sand, now cool in the early evening, I pause again and look back over one shoulder.

Tomorrow. I’ll be back tomorrow. Or the day after...