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Spermwatch: Scientists need YOU to look for lugworm sperm

People of Britain told to keep an eye out for sperm puddles

Saturday 24 September 2016 12:25 BST

Lugworm casts (PA, University of Portsmouth)

The people of Britain are being asked to look out the sperm of the lugworm, in a nationwide campaign to find out more about the sex lives of the secretive, burrowing marine worm.

Spermwatch is a citizen science campaign launched by scientists determined to solve a mystery that has eluded them for decades: exactly what environmental conditions trigger the lugworm to start spawning?

As the campaign’s website explains: “We need people across the UK to look for sperm puddles and tell us when they appear.

“Our aim is to find out the exact time when male lugworms release their sperm, and how that varies around the UK.”

Lugworms, better known among humans as a source of fishermen’s bait than for their mysterious sperm, dig into sandy beaches and spend their lives inside their burrows. Most people are more familiar with their casts - piles of swirly tubes of digested sand excreted by the worm – than with the lugworm itself.

But, the Spermwatch campaign organisers explain, lugworms are “a valuable part of the marine ecosystem. They are a main food source for wader birds and fish, circulate nutrients in the sand, and are used as bait by fishermen”.

In order to breed, the male lugworm releases sperm which collects in puddles on the surface of the sand.

When the tide comes in, the sperm is washed down into the burrows of the females and fertilises their eggs.

“Lugworms are fascinating,” said Spermwatch organiser Dr Katrin Bohn, of the Institute of Marine Sciences at the University of Portsmouth. “The entire population at a specific location reproduces for just a few days every year, and only when certain environmental conditions are ideal.

"We want to know what those conditions are, and also understand how climate change, for example, will affect that. By going out for a walk on any beach across the UK, members of the public can help us in answering those questions."

Dr Gordon Watson, principal lecturer at the Institute of Marine Sciences, added: "This is a great way for people to get involved in scientific research. It would be virtually impossible to collect these data without public involvement, so every bit of data the public collects is vital."

Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2016 finalists

Show all 11

1/11Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2016 finalists

Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2016 finalists

'Termite tossing' by Willem Kruger (South Africa)

Termite after termite after termite – using the tip of its massive beak-like forceps to pick them up, the hornbill would flick them in the air and then swallow them. Foraging beside a track in South Africa’s semi-arid Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, the southern yellow-billed hornbill was so deeply absorbed in termite snacking that it gradually worked its way to within 6 metres (19 feet) of where Willem sat watching from his vehicle. Though widespread, this southern African hornbill can be shy, and as it feeds on the ground – mainly on termites, beetles, grasshoppers and caterpillars – it can be difficult for a photographer to get a clear shot among the scrub. The bird feeds this way because its tongue isn’t long enough to pick up insects as, say, a woodpecker might, and though its huge bill restricts its field of vision, it can still see the bill’s tip and so can pick up insects with precision.

Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2016 finalists

'Swarming under the stars' by Imre Potyó (Hungary)

Imre was captivated by the chaotic swarming of mayflies on Hungary’s River Rába and dreamt of photographing the spectacle beneath a starlit sky. For a few days each year (at the end of July or beginning of August), vast numbers of the adult insects emerge from the Danube tributary, where they developed as larvae. On this occasion, the insects emerged just after sunset. At first, they stayed close to the water, but once they had mated, the females gained altitude. They filled the air with millions of silken wings, smothering Imre and his equipment in their race upstream to lay their eggs on the water’s surface. Then they died, exhausted, after just a few hours. This ‘compensatory flight’ – sometimes as far as several kilometres upstream – is crucial to make up for the subsequent downstream drift of the eggs and nymphs, and luckily for Imre, it was happening under a clear sky.

Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2016 finalists

'The disappearing fish' by Iago Leonardo (Spain)

In the open ocean, there’s nowhere to hide, but the lookdown fish – a name it probably gets from the steep profile of its head, with mouth set low and large eyes high – is a master of camouflage. Recent research suggests that it uses special platelets in its skin cells to reflect polarized light (light moving in a single plane), making itself almost invisible to predators and potential prey. The platelets scatter polarized light depending on the angle of the sun and the fish, doing a better job than simply reflecting it like a mirror. This clever camouflage works particularly well when viewed from positions of likely attack or pursuit. What is not yet clear is whether the fish can increase its camouflage by moving the platelets or its body for maximum effect in the ocean’s fluctuating light. The lookdowns’ disappearing act impressed Iago, who was free-diving with special permission around Contoy Island, near Cancun, Mexico.

Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2016 finalists

'Nosy neighbour' by Sam Hobson (UK)

Sam knew exactly who to expect when he set his camera on the wall one summer’s evening in a suburban street in Bristol, the UK’s famous fox city. He wanted to capture the inquisitive nature of the urban red fox in a way that would pique the curiosity of its human neighbours about the wildlife around them. This was the culmination of weeks of scouting for the ideal location – a quiet, well‐lit neighbourhood, where the foxes were used to people (several residents fed them regularly) – and the right fox. For several hours every night, Sam sat in one fox family’s territory, gradually gaining their trust until they ignored his presence. One of the cubs was always investigating new things – his weeping left eye the result of a scratch from a cat he got too close to. ‘I discovered a wall that he liked to sit on in the early evening,’ says Sam. ‘He would poke his head over for a quick look before hopping up.’ Setting his focus very close to the lens, Sam stood back and waited.

Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2016 finalists

'Thistle-plucker' by Isaac Aylward (UK)

Try keeping a flying linnet in sight while scrambling down rocky embankments holding a telephoto lens. Isaac did, for 20 minutes. He was determined to keep pace with the linnet that he spotted while hiking in Bulgaria’s Rila Mountains, finally catching up with the tiny bird when it settled to feed on a thistle flowerhead. From the florets that were ripening, it pulled out the little seed parachutes one by one, deftly nipped off the seeds and discarded the feathery down. Isaac composed this alpine-meadow tableau with the sea of soft purple knapweed behind, accentuating the clashing red of the linnet’s plumage.

Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2016 finalists

'Crystal precision' by Mario Cea (Spain)

Every night, not long after sunset, about 30 common pipistrelle bats emerge from their roost in a derelict house in Salamanca, Spain, to go hunting. Each has an appetite for up to 3,000 insects a night, which it eats on the wing. Its flight is characteristically fast and jerky, as it tunes its orientation with echolocation to detect objects in the dark. The sounds it makes – too high‐pitched for most humans to hear – create echoes that allow it to make a sonic map of its surroundings. Mario positioned his camera precisely so that it was level with the bats’ exit through a broken window and the exact distance away to capture a head-on shot. The hard part was configuring the flashes to reveal the bat and highlight the edges of the glass shards. His perseverance paid off when he caught the perfect pose as a bat leaves the roost on its night‐time foray.

Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2016 finalists

'Collective courtship' by Scott Portelli (Australia)

Thousands of giant cuttlefish gather each winter in the shallow waters of South Australia’s Upper Spencer Gulf for their once-in-a-lifetime spawning. Males compete for territories that have the best crevices for egg‐laying and then attract females with mesmerizing displays of changing skin colour, texture and pattern. Rivalry among the world’s largest cuttlefish – up to a metre (3.3 feet) long – is fierce, as males outnumber females by up to eleven to one. A successful, usually large, male grabs the smaller female with his tentacles, turns her to face him (as here) and uses a specialized tentacle to insert sperm sacs into an opening near her mouth. He then guards her until she lays the eggs. The preoccupied cuttlefish (the male on the right) completely ignored Scott, allowing him to get close. A line of suitors was poised in the background, waiting for a chance to mate with the female (sometimes smaller males camouflage themselves as females to sneak past the male.

Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2016 finalists

'Blast furnace' by Alexandre Hec (France)

When the lava flow from Kilauea on Hawaii’s Big Island periodically enters the ocean, the sight is spectacular, but on this occasion Alexandre was in for a special treat. Kilauea (meaning ‘spewing’ or ‘much spreading’) is one of the world’s most active volcanoes, in constant eruption since 1983. As red-hot lava at more than 1,000˚C (1,832˚F) flows into the sea, vast plumes of steam hiss up, condensing to produce salty, acidic mist or rain. Alexandre witnessed the action and returned in an inflatable the following evening to find that a new crater had formed close to the shore. Capturing the furious action in a rough sea was no easy task. From 100 metres (328 feet) away, he was blasted with heat and noise – ‘like a jet taking off’. In a moment of visibility, his perseverance paid off, with a dramatic image of glowing lava being tossed some 30 metres (98 feet) into the air against the night sky.

Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2016 finalists

'Splitting the catch' by Audun Rikardsen (Norway)

Sometimes it’s the fishing boats that look for the killer whales and humpbacks, hoping to locate the shoals of herring that migrate to these Arctic Norwegian waters. But in recent winters, the whales have also started to follow the boats. Here a large male killer whale feeds on herring that have been squeezed out of the boat’s closing fishing net. He has learnt the sound that this type of boat makes when it retrieves its gear and homed in on it. The relationship would seem to be a win-win one, but not always. Whales sometimes try to steal the fish, causing damage to the gear, and they can also become entangled in the nets, sometimes fatally, especially in the case of humpbacks. The search for solutions is under-way, including better systems for releasing any whales that get trapped. Having grown up in a small coastal fishing community in northern Norway, Audun has always been fascinated by the relationship between humans and wildlife.

Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2016 finalists

'Golden relic' by Dhyey Shah (India)

With fewer than 2,500 mature adults left in the wild, in fragmented pockets of forest in northeastern India (Assam) and Bhutan, Gee’s golden langurs are endangered. Living high in the trees, they are also difficult to observe. But, on the tiny man-made island of Umananda, in Assam’s Brahmaputra River, you are guaranteed to see one. Site of a temple dedicated to the Hindu god Shiva, the island is equally famous for its introduced golden langurs. Within moments of stepping off the boat, Dhyey spotted the golden coat of a langur high up in a tree. The monkey briefly made eye contact and then slipped away. Today, there are just six left on the island, and, with much of the vegetation having been cleared, the leaf-eating monkeys are forced to depend mainly on junk food from visitors

Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2016 finalists

'Playing pangolin' by Lance van de Vyver (New Zealand/South Africa)

Lance had tracked the pride for several hours before they stopped to rest by a waterhole, but their attention was not on drinking. The lions (in South Africa’s Tswalu Kalahari Private Game Reserve) had discovered a Temminck’s ground pangolin. This nocturnal, ant-eating mammal is armour-plated with scales made of fused hair, and it curls up into an almost impregnable ball when threatened. Pangolins usually escape unscathed from big cats (though not from humans, whose exploitation of them for the traditional medicine trade is causing their severe decline). But these lions just wouldn’t give up. ‘They rolled it around like a soccer ball,’ says Lance. ‘Every time they lost interest, the pangolin uncurled and tried to retreat, attracting their attention again.’ Spotting a young lion holding the pangolin ball on a termite mound close to the vehicle, Lance focused in on the lion’s claws and the pangolin’s scratched scales, choosing black and white to help simplify the composition.

The Spermwatch survey instruction pack, available via the website, shows that would-be sperm spotters need little more than a pencil, a clipboard, tide tables and a recording sheet. Plus a stopwatch, and depending on inclination and British seaside weather, a camera and warm clothing.

The public are advised that lugworm sperm puddles look like white or milky specks on the sand.

Spermwatchers need to see how many lugworm casts and sperm puddles they can find in ten minutes, or the time it takes to find 100 casts or puddles, whichever is shorter.

To avoid confusing sperm puddles with seagull poo, the scientists advise: “Bird poo marks could be mistaken for sperm puddles, so look closely. If there are only one or two in your search area, it is probably bird poo. Sperm puddles will appear in higher numbers. Take photos if you are not sure.”

“This study,” lugworm spermwatchers are told, “Will provide unique data into what environmental conditions trigger them to start spawning, something scientists have struggled to find out.”

Spermwatch is part of a wider conservation project called Capturing our Coast, a Heritage Lottery Fund partnership between the universities of Portsmouth, Newcastle, Bangor and Hull, the Marine Conservation Society, the Earthwatch Institute, the Marine Biological Association and the Scottish Association of Marine Science.

The first spermwatches will start on September 30, and throughout the autumn members of the public can join a series of group spermwatch outings that are being organised all over the coast.

Instruction booklets can be downloaded at: http://www.capturingourcoast.co.uk/spermwatch.

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