I haven't quite been able to figure out exactly why this BP oil spill mess keeps gnawing at me? I mean beyond the fact that you would have to be working with half a brain not to outraged at the reason, historic and current, blind energy greed, that have us in this position. But more than that I think its my childhood love for the sea. I grew up thinking and planning to be a marine biologist. I shuffled off to university with wet feet and a salty freshening breeze blowing on shore. I learned to scuba dive before I could drive, and the first place I drove, literally, was to the beach with the back of my little Datsun pickup (mini by today's standards) stuffed with diving gear. The first photo job I applied for was on the Calypso with Jacques Cousteau (okay, I was really naive.) So as the Jimmy Buffet song goes, "the sea's in my veins," and there it remains.As I read reports and news releases, call folks on the Gulf to set up interviews, and work through the last details with National Audubon Society and prepare to start documenting in the Gulf with their interests (Important Bird Areas) in mind, its all those years of walking beaches and face-mask pointed into the sea that makes this assignment hit closer to soul's home.
Marine biologists will admit that not a great deal is known about the effects of oil on organisms in deep water.
"We know almost nothing about the ecology in the deep ocean," says Professor Ed Overton, an environmental scientist at Louisiana State University from a recent interview with BBC.
That comment comes as the Obama Administration once again filed a stop order on deepwater drilling in the Gulf. At the same time oyster fishermen (harvesters really) are coming to grips with the reality of their crops life cycle; oil and the toxic soup associated with it are not only polluting the beaches and mangroves, but plunging a dipstick deep into the future of all marine life in the wake of this disaster. In their case they have more than a little spat with BP and other oil companies that are responsible for this disaster. In fact, spat is at the very core of their future. Spat are baby oysters, and now is the time along the Gulf coast when they head off to become the encrusting bivalves nature intended. And nature's job for them - filter the sea.
The April 10th BP/Deepwater Horizon spill has carried on just long enough to spell spat doom. Late June the waters warm and trigger oyster spawning, about a 100 million eggs per female. After mid-water fertilization the infant bivalve wannabees attach to something hard, like another oyster, and start their quiet sedentary lives of inner contemplation - they are called spat, about the size of a big pinhead. Spat kindergarten through high school takes about three years, so if you are in the oyster harvesting business your crop is always three to four years in the making.
I wouldn't know so much, or care, about oysters other than they were a part of my summers and winters as a teenager growing up near Puget Sound, Washington. A friend's family owned oyster beds and forever needed a hand, and I needed the money. Lowtide, razor sharp oyster shells and the rich alive smell of the estuarine flats was better than flipp'n burgers.
And there's a culture to work drawn from the sea. Everything around it has a culture. A taste of that culture can be felt on trawlers, and shrimpboats, and village around the world. It extends into all the lives connected to the sea. Along the Gulf coast that means oysters as much as anything. A recent article in the Nola.com from New Orleans reflects the downstream impact of the oyster loss -
Gulf oil spill puts oyster shuckers, traditions on ice
Working those beaches taught me a valuable lesson, later reinforced formally at university, if you are an oyster you can not run, you can not hide, you are on the inside, what you take from the outside. In the Gulf that outside is a toxic world beyond what the past 200 million years has prepared the oyster for, and it is becoming clear it will be that way for years to come.
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