mer graduate students who is now a
research scientist at the Gulf of Maine
Research Institute. “He is pretty well-known [in the field] for pointing out flaws
in how we do things.”
Peterson’s work also resounds well outside the borders of the scientific community. He recently grabbed national attention
for research, published in the journal
Science, on the link between big sharks and
North Carolina’s bay scallop fishery. Peterson and his scientific collaborators in the
U.S. and Canada found that the loss of great
whites, hammerheads and other sharks — as
many as 73 million are killed every year
through commercial fishing — caused a
population explosion among skates, rays and
other creatures they preyed on. More skates
and rays in the sea were, in turn, bad news
for the creatures upon which they dined,
including scallops, oysters and clams. North
Carolina’s century-old bay scallop fishery, a
favorite meal of the cownose ray, has been
wiped out as a result.
Peterson and his colleagues now are
looking for ways to protect scallops from the
marauding rays. In the short term, they will
gather adult bay scallops from local sounds
and concentrate them into several sanctuaries protected from the cownose rays’ fall
migration. After the migration run and scallop spawning are complete, they will take
down the poles to allow a winter scallop
fishing season, if enough adults survived.
They also are looking for funds to
install cages around one set of oyster reef
sanctuaries and leave another set open to
cownose rays — a test of whether oysters,
too, have been harmed by ray predation. If
it works, caging during the warm months
could make restoration of native oysters
much more successful.
“If native oysters can be more efficiently
restored, this will be a tremendous shot in
the arm to fishermen and improve water
quality at the same time,” Peterson says.
Though tied together by questions
about how the natural environment
changes naturally and due to human influ-
ence, Peterson’s work also takes him far
away from the N.C. coast. Another article
of his, also published in Science, described
how the ecological impacts of the 1989
Exxon Valdez oil spill in Alaska lasted far
longer than many had predicted. Although
Peterson says he initially was reluctant to
take on work so far from home, he went
on to visit Alaska some 50 times and fell in
love with the Prince William Sound
ecosystem.
The Valdez work led back to his rule of
engagement: in this case, 1993 testimony on
oil spill recovery to Congress’ Merchant
Marine and Fisheries Committee. He also
has served on a state panel on oyster
restoration, a county panel on seafood processing, and state commissions on marine
fisheries and coastal resources, among many
other commitments. Right now, he is
working with the Environmental Protection Agency to examine how to make policies that are adaptive and flexible enough to
deal with global climate change and its
effects on estuarine goods and services.
When it comes time to take his field
and lab work into the often politically
charged realm of resource management,
Peterson says he doesn’t worry that he
might be putting his reputation for scientific objectivity on the line, or that he
might be accused of choosing sides. He
avoids such criticism, he says, by being very
transparent about the data and science that
he is employing to make a case.
“You take what you know and build
scenarios. You show the values and weighting you give to different outcomes. It can
be useful to all sides in an argument.”
And, back in the classroom, to close the
loop, he tries to make sure that the next
generation of scientists sees the value of his
approach.
“I like to blur the lines, so my students
hear about how work is applied to real-world problems. I like to talk to them
about engaging and not sitting outside the
real world in an academic ivory tower.”
— Darv Johnson
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