The Dark Side of Sea Sparkle
Sarah Joyner | November 2020
My favorite childhood memories are characterized by interactions with the natural world, from the ordinary to the enchanting. Growing up at the beach, I was fortunate to be surrounded by a rich ecosystem teeming with biodiversity. Watching dolphins jump and pelicans dive by day, then catching ghost crabs with nothing but a flashlight and my bare hands by night were all parts of my everyday life. While my idyllic backyard, or as others may know it, the Atlantic coastline, was full of charismatic creatures that I adored, I also held a certain fascination with what lies above. Whether it be the galaxy or our own atmosphere here on Earth, I wanted to know everything.
When I was ten years old, I read an article in one of the many National Geographic Kids magazines that I hoarded on my bookshelf about a phenomenon known as aurora borealis, a vibrant and colorful display of gaseous particles colliding in the atmosphere. From that point on, I was enamored. Every book report and presentation was about the Northern Lights. While I didn’t get to experience aurora borealis (yet), I experienced something equally captivating, and possibly even more fascinating.
Fast forward three years, it’s a hot summer evening and my dad and I are gearing up for one of the aforementioned ghost crab hunts. As soon as my feet hit the sand, I sprint towards the ocean to dip my toes in the water, a nightly ritual. Only this time, there is nothing routine about the moment the foamy water kisses my toes. An iridescent, neon blue seems to erupt from the surface of the water. In a confused frenzy of wonder, I jump back from the alien-like glow and peer left and right down the beach in search of some sort of explanation. As the waves crash onto shore, the same eerie eruptions occur as if part of a silent synchronized firework show. After observing in awe for what feels like eternity, I rush home to immediately consult Google about the mysterious aurora borealis of the ocean I had witnessed.
It turns out that what I had seen was not a marine version of the Northern Lights, but a type of plankton. Zooplankton and phytoplankton are microscopic organisms that float along the ocean’s surface. Although too small to be seen individually, they often drift in large groups and appear as a patch of discoloration in the water. More specifically, the type of zooplankton responsible for this particular phenomenon is a species by the name of noctiluca scintillans, the only species in the noctiluca genus. This species is known as a dinoflagellate, meaning that it possesses characteristics of both plants and animals, but cannot be classified as either.
Noctiluca, although beautiful, have a dark side. These tiny creatures can be indicators of an ecosystem in peril. Noctiluca are resilient in that they can survive without oxygen or sunlight, but this does not bode well for the organisms that share their marine habitat. As I mentioned previously, dinoflagellate such as noctiluca scintillans possess both plant and animal qualities. They are hosts to an endosymbiont, or another minuscule organism even smaller than themselves, known as pedinomonas noctilucae. This mutualistic relationship allows noctiluca to fix carbon, as its endosymbiont contains chlorophyll. In other words, this species thrives in conditions that are largely unsuitable for others, harming water quality and poisoning fish through the accumulation of ammonia. Noctiluca outbreaks are triggered by an influx of oxygen deficient, or hypoxic, waters.
In many areas, these noctiluca blooms seem to grow year after year, threatening marine ecosystems and the human populations which rely on them for sustenance and cultural significance. In places like Somalia and Yemen, noctiluca did not exist until very recently. This is due to the ways in which climate change is altering ocean temperatures and weather patterns. Historically, icy winter winds from the peaks of the Himalayas are responsible for fertilizing the Arabian Sea, cooling surface waters and replacing less nutrient-dense waters. However, as humans continue threatening to push the planetary boundary of climate change, the weakening of these winter monsoons are leaving marine ecosystems nutrient deprived while allowing harmful plankton such as noctiluca to bloom and outcompete other organisms. Noctiluca’s unique roles as both plant and animal as well as predator and prey in the food chain threatens every species from other plankton to humans who consume fish higher up the food chain, which may have ingested the toxic algae.
While noctiluca scintillans pose a threat to marine ecosystems and those who rely on them, they are in the minority among their fellow plankton. Phytoplankton are the overlooked heroes of not only the ocean, but the entire planet. These microscopic organisms produce two-thirds of the earth’s atmospheric oxygen. In order to do so, they require sunlight to undergo photosynthesis. Where noctiluca thrives, vital phytoplankton species starve, as do the fish, whales, birds, crabs and numerous other species for which they are a significant source of food. Phytoplankton are a keystone species of the ocean, indicating the health of entire ecosystems.
The mesmerising sea sparkle that I saw years ago is a memory that I remember fondly, even though it turned out to be something much more sinister than aurora borealis. While I feel an overwhelming amount of grief and helplessness at times towards the widespread destruction of biodiversity, I can’t help but allow myself to experience a small sense of wonder for what this planet is capable of, for better or for worse. These instances of wonder provide me with the courage and energy to demand better of myself and my fellow humans to protect the natural world. Noctiluca scintillans reminds me that everything is interconnected, and that climate change knows no boundaries. The climate of the tallest, most majestic mountains on Earth can have profound effects on microscopic organisms at sea level, in turn affecting humans. I may never get to see the Northern Lights, much to the disappointment of my ten year old self, but it is clear that the wonder and mystery of the natural world are apparent in every corner of the globe, even in the face of disastrous climate change.
Sources
do Rosario Gomes, Helga, Kali McKee, Anxhela Mile, et al. 2018. “Influence of Light Availability and Prey Type on the Growth and Photo-physiological Rates of the Mixotroph Noctiluca scintillans.” Creative Commons Attribution License.
do Rosario Gomes, Helga, Joaquim I. Goes, S. G. P. Matondkar, et al. 2014. “Massive outbreaks of Noctiluca scintillans blooms in the Arabian Sea due to spread of hypoxia.” In Nature Communications. Springer Nature.
Harrison, P.J. K. Furuya, P.M. Gilbert, et al. 2011. “Geographic distribution of red and green Noctiluca scintillans.” In Species and Species-Specific Patterns and Responses. Springer Nature.
Kirkpatrick, Nick. 2015. “The killer algae making Hong Kong’s water glow.” In The Washington Post. Washington. The Washington Post.
Roach, John. 2004. “Source of Half Earth’s Oxygen Gets Little Credit.” In National Geographic. National Geographic Society.
Roman, Michael, Stephen B. Brandt, Edward D. Houde, et al. 2019. “Interactive Effects of Hypoxia and Temperature on Coastal Pelagic Zooplankton and Fish.” Creative Commons Attribution License.
Sarah Joyner | November 2020
My favorite childhood memories are characterized by interactions with the natural world, from the ordinary to the enchanting. Growing up at the beach, I was fortunate to be surrounded by a rich ecosystem teeming with biodiversity. Watching dolphins jump and pelicans dive by day, then catching ghost crabs with nothing but a flashlight and my bare hands by night were all parts of my everyday life. While my idyllic backyard, or as others may know it, the Atlantic coastline, was full of charismatic creatures that I adored, I also held a certain fascination with what lies above. Whether it be the galaxy or our own atmosphere here on Earth, I wanted to know everything.
When I was ten years old, I read an article in one of the many National Geographic Kids magazines that I hoarded on my bookshelf about a phenomenon known as aurora borealis, a vibrant and colorful display of gaseous particles colliding in the atmosphere. From that point on, I was enamored. Every book report and presentation was about the Northern Lights. While I didn’t get to experience aurora borealis (yet), I experienced something equally captivating, and possibly even more fascinating.
Fast forward three years, it’s a hot summer evening and my dad and I are gearing up for one of the aforementioned ghost crab hunts. As soon as my feet hit the sand, I sprint towards the ocean to dip my toes in the water, a nightly ritual. Only this time, there is nothing routine about the moment the foamy water kisses my toes. An iridescent, neon blue seems to erupt from the surface of the water. In a confused frenzy of wonder, I jump back from the alien-like glow and peer left and right down the beach in search of some sort of explanation. As the waves crash onto shore, the same eerie eruptions occur as if part of a silent synchronized firework show. After observing in awe for what feels like eternity, I rush home to immediately consult Google about the mysterious aurora borealis of the ocean I had witnessed.
It turns out that what I had seen was not a marine version of the Northern Lights, but a type of plankton. Zooplankton and phytoplankton are microscopic organisms that float along the ocean’s surface. Although too small to be seen individually, they often drift in large groups and appear as a patch of discoloration in the water. More specifically, the type of zooplankton responsible for this particular phenomenon is a species by the name of noctiluca scintillans, the only species in the noctiluca genus. This species is known as a dinoflagellate, meaning that it possesses characteristics of both plants and animals, but cannot be classified as either.
Noctiluca, although beautiful, have a dark side. These tiny creatures can be indicators of an ecosystem in peril. Noctiluca are resilient in that they can survive without oxygen or sunlight, but this does not bode well for the organisms that share their marine habitat. As I mentioned previously, dinoflagellate such as noctiluca scintillans possess both plant and animal qualities. They are hosts to an endosymbiont, or another minuscule organism even smaller than themselves, known as pedinomonas noctilucae. This mutualistic relationship allows noctiluca to fix carbon, as its endosymbiont contains chlorophyll. In other words, this species thrives in conditions that are largely unsuitable for others, harming water quality and poisoning fish through the accumulation of ammonia. Noctiluca outbreaks are triggered by an influx of oxygen deficient, or hypoxic, waters.
In many areas, these noctiluca blooms seem to grow year after year, threatening marine ecosystems and the human populations which rely on them for sustenance and cultural significance. In places like Somalia and Yemen, noctiluca did not exist until very recently. This is due to the ways in which climate change is altering ocean temperatures and weather patterns. Historically, icy winter winds from the peaks of the Himalayas are responsible for fertilizing the Arabian Sea, cooling surface waters and replacing less nutrient-dense waters. However, as humans continue threatening to push the planetary boundary of climate change, the weakening of these winter monsoons are leaving marine ecosystems nutrient deprived while allowing harmful plankton such as noctiluca to bloom and outcompete other organisms. Noctiluca’s unique roles as both plant and animal as well as predator and prey in the food chain threatens every species from other plankton to humans who consume fish higher up the food chain, which may have ingested the toxic algae.
While noctiluca scintillans pose a threat to marine ecosystems and those who rely on them, they are in the minority among their fellow plankton. Phytoplankton are the overlooked heroes of not only the ocean, but the entire planet. These microscopic organisms produce two-thirds of the earth’s atmospheric oxygen. In order to do so, they require sunlight to undergo photosynthesis. Where noctiluca thrives, vital phytoplankton species starve, as do the fish, whales, birds, crabs and numerous other species for which they are a significant source of food. Phytoplankton are a keystone species of the ocean, indicating the health of entire ecosystems.
The mesmerising sea sparkle that I saw years ago is a memory that I remember fondly, even though it turned out to be something much more sinister than aurora borealis. While I feel an overwhelming amount of grief and helplessness at times towards the widespread destruction of biodiversity, I can’t help but allow myself to experience a small sense of wonder for what this planet is capable of, for better or for worse. These instances of wonder provide me with the courage and energy to demand better of myself and my fellow humans to protect the natural world. Noctiluca scintillans reminds me that everything is interconnected, and that climate change knows no boundaries. The climate of the tallest, most majestic mountains on Earth can have profound effects on microscopic organisms at sea level, in turn affecting humans. I may never get to see the Northern Lights, much to the disappointment of my ten year old self, but it is clear that the wonder and mystery of the natural world are apparent in every corner of the globe, even in the face of disastrous climate change.
Sources
do Rosario Gomes, Helga, Kali McKee, Anxhela Mile, et al. 2018. “Influence of Light Availability and Prey Type on the Growth and Photo-physiological Rates of the Mixotroph Noctiluca scintillans.” Creative Commons Attribution License.
do Rosario Gomes, Helga, Joaquim I. Goes, S. G. P. Matondkar, et al. 2014. “Massive outbreaks of Noctiluca scintillans blooms in the Arabian Sea due to spread of hypoxia.” In Nature Communications. Springer Nature.
Harrison, P.J. K. Furuya, P.M. Gilbert, et al. 2011. “Geographic distribution of red and green Noctiluca scintillans.” In Species and Species-Specific Patterns and Responses. Springer Nature.
Kirkpatrick, Nick. 2015. “The killer algae making Hong Kong’s water glow.” In The Washington Post. Washington. The Washington Post.
Roach, John. 2004. “Source of Half Earth’s Oxygen Gets Little Credit.” In National Geographic. National Geographic Society.
Roman, Michael, Stephen B. Brandt, Edward D. Houde, et al. 2019. “Interactive Effects of Hypoxia and Temperature on Coastal Pelagic Zooplankton and Fish.” Creative Commons Attribution License.