Step Out of Your World and Escape

September 9, 2018Living in the wilderness on Kodiak IslandAlaska, Escape, Kodiak Island, Munsey's Bear Camp, Relaxation, Robin Barefield, Vacationadmin

Escaping from your life is the only true way to relax, but escape is not easy in the 21st century. You might be lounging on a beach in Aruba, but I bet your cell phone is keeping your rum punch company on the table next to your chair, and you remind yourself you need to return to your room an hour before dinner to put the finishing touches on the report you’ve promised your boss. You are enjoying a fun vacation, but you have not escaped.

As many of you know, my husband and I own a small bear-viewing, sportfishing, and hunting lodge on Kodiak Island in Alaska. Our lodge is located seventy air miles from the town of Kodiak in the heart of the Kodiak National Wildlife Refuge. No roads cross the island, so the only way to reach us is by floatplane or an eight-hour boat ride through rough seas. We don’t have cell phone service, and although we do have internet, it is satellite internet with a strict and stingy data limit.

We tell our guests they can send and receive e-mails but nothing else, and please, no photos or videos. Turn off the apps and disable location services while you are at our lodge.

Our guests look at us with wide eyes. How could we ask them to disconnect from their lives? How will they survive if they can’t watch the news on their phones, follow the twists and turns of the stock market, or catch the latest baseball scores? More importantly, how many YouTube cat videos will they miss during a five-day stay with us?

We often catch a guest cheating at the beginning of her stay when she thinks we won’t notice her texting while she holds her phone under the edge of the dining room table. Gradually, though, we see change. The iPhone, held in a death grip when a guest climbed from the floatplane, now only makes appearances after we’ve returned from our daily adventure. Computer screens that were earlier filled with business documents or e-mails are now occupied by wildlife photos from the day’s safari.

The group of six strangers who on the first evening they arrived, barely looked up from their devices to converse, now linger over the dinner table discussing the day’s excitement and laughing about the huge Kodiak bear they watched chase a salmon through a small stream.

“I thought he was running straight for Sid,” Cathy from Indianapolis says.

“Right,” Sid from Melbourne replies. “I nearly needed to change my trousers.”

The laughter grows to a roar, and then slowly, the conversation drifts to families and other far-away vacations. No one has glanced at a cellphone in hours.

Guests often say their stay with us was the best vacation of their lives. I would like to believe we are completely responsible for their excellent holiday, but I know it’s not the truth. They had fun and relaxed because they escaped their lives for a few days.

On day one, our guests ask if we’ve heard the news of the day. What’s happening in the world? By day four, they ask what time the tide will be high and what river we plan to hike the following day. They excitedly tell us about the young buck that walked up to the steps of their cabin or the eagle they watched pluck a salmon from the cove in front of our lodge. After only a few days, our guests have unplugged and are beginning to follow the rhythms of our world.

I watch with sadness as our guests wait for the floatplane to take them back to Kodiak and their lives. The chatter dies, and the phones emerge from their hiding places.

I love my job as a guide and naturalist, and I enjoy sharing my world in the Alaska wilderness with others, but I feel our trips are only successful when I see our guests relax. I know if a guest can put down his phone and escape his world for a few days, he will have the best vacation of his life. It’s not about us; it’s about the escape.

The plane lands, and our departing guests wait for the new flock to disembark before they can load their gear onto the plane. As they pass each other on the dock and exchange pleasantries, one of the departing guests looks at the new arrivals and smirks. “You can put away those phones,” he says. “You won’t need them here.”

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Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. If you like audiobooks, check out her audiobook version of Murder Over Kodiak. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

Mystery Newsletter

Sablefish (Anoplopoma fimbria)

September 2, 2018Fish, Kodiak WildlifeBlack Cod, Robin Barefield, Sablefish, Sablefish in Alaskaadmin

Sablefish (Anoplopoma fimbria) or black cod, as they are commonly called, are not related to Pacific cod but are instead in the family Anoplopomatidae, a family with only one other species, the skilfish (Erilepis zonifer).

A sablefish is slim and long and covered with small scales. It is dark gray or grayish-green on its back and sides and light gray or white on its stomach. It has two widely separated dorsal fins and a tail which is lightly indented in the middle. Sablefish have large mouths with small teeth. They grow quite large and have been known to reach 45 inches (114 cm) in length and 50.5 lbs. (25 kg). An average-sized sablefish weighs 8.1 lbs, (3.7 kg) and is 27 inches (69.1cm) long.

Sablefish range from Alaska and British Columbia south to Baja, California, and west to Kamchatka and Japan, Alaska has the highest concentration of sablefish.

Adult sablefish live on the slopes of the continental shelf and are usually found at depths of 492 to 4921 ft. (150 – 1500 m), but they have been found as deep as 9842 ft. (3000 m). Juveniles live nearshore in much shallower water. Juveniles are pelagic, while adults live near the bottom.

Sablefish spawn in the winter, normally between January and March, but spawning is dependent upon location. They spawn along the continental shelf at depths greater than 3281 ft. (1000 m.) Sablefish become sexually mature between five and seven years, and once they reach sexual maturity, they spawn annually. A female lays 110 eggs per gram of body weight, so an average sized female weighing 3.7 kg will lay approximately 407,000 eggs.

Sablefish larvae drift inshore, and juveniles remain inshore until they reach a size of 12 to 16 inches (30 -40 cm) at the age of two to five years. They then begin to move into deeper water and settle near the bottom, where they continue to grow.

Juvenile sablefish eat zooplankton and small fish, and adults eat fish, squid, octopus, and crustaceans. Survival of juveniles varies greatly from year to year, and biologists believe this variability is linked to zooplankton abundance, which is in turn linked to environmental conditions. Zooplankton thrive during years when ocean temperatures and nutrients produce rich phytoplankton crops for them to eat, and juvenile sablefish then eat the zooplankton, such as krill. When conditions are not favorable, though, zooplankton numbers drop, and fewer sablefish survive.

Juvenile sablefish are prey for many fish species, including Chinook and coho salmon. Sperm whales are a major predator of adults. Sablefish often live as long as 40 years, and the oldest recorded in Alaska was 94-years-old.

Like halibut, sablefish bring a high price per pound to commercial fishermen, and the current value of sablefish in the U.S. fishery is approximately $50 million per year. Most of the commercial catch is exported to Asia, where it is considered a delicacy, but sablefish is gaining popularity in the U.S. Sablefish are primarily harvested by longline or trawling. A small but growing sport fishery for sablefish has developed in Southeast Alaska.
Sablefish abundance has dropped since the 1980s, but with stricter commercial regulations in place, fishery managers consider the population stable. Both state and federal agencies manage sablefish.

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Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. If you like audiobooks, check out her audiobook version of Murder Over Kodiak. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

Mystery Newsletter

Lingcod (Ophiodon elongatus)

August 26, 2018Fish, Kodiak WildlifeAlaskan Fish, Fishing in Alaska, Fishing on Kodiak Island, Greenling, Kodiak Island, Lingcod, Lingcod Biology, Robin Barefieldadmin

Lingcod are not true cod and are not related to Pacific cod or pollack. Instead, lingcod are the largest members of the greenling family. Adults average 10 lbs (4.5 kg), but they can grow to over 80 lbs. (35 kg) and measure 60 inches (150 cm) in length.

A lingcod has a long body and varies in coloration from gray to brown to green or even blue on the back and sides and lighter on the stomach. It is covered with dark brown or copper blotches arranged in clusters, and it has a prominent light-colored lateral line and large, cycloid scales. A long dorsal fin spans the distance from behind the head nearly to the tail. The front part of the fin is spiny, while the posterior portion consists of soft rays. A notch connects the two sections. The anal fin has three spines. The head and mouth of a lingcod are large, and the mouth holds 18 big, sharp teeth. The head does not have scales.

Lingcod are found only on the west coast of North America, from the Alaska Peninsula and Aleutian Islands south to Baja California. They are common throughout Southeast Alaska, along the outer reaches of the Kenai Peninsula, around Kodiak Island, and in Prince William Sound. They normally live nearshore around rocky reefs from depths of 30 to 330 ft. (10 – 100m), but they have been found as deep as 1000 ft. (300 m). Lingcod usually stay in the same area and often near the same reef for their entire lives, but researchers have tagged lingcod that have moved as far as 500 miles (800 km) from where they were first observed.

Female lingcod mature between three and five years of age at a length of 24 to 30 inches (61-75 cm). Males mature when they are two years old and approximately 20 inches (45 cm) long. Lingcod nest in rock crevices or ledges with strong currents. A male leads a female to the nesting area, and the female lays between 150,000 to 500,000 eggs. The number of eggs a female lays increases with both size and age. Once the female lays her eggs, she leaves the area, and then the male fertilizes the eggs and stays to guard the nest. In Alaska, lingcod begin spawning in early December, with peak spawning from mid-January to mid-March. The eggs hatch within 5 to 11 weeks, so most hatching takes place between mid-March and mid-May.

Male lingcod guard the egg nests until the eggs hatch. If left unguarded, egg nests are usually decimated within 48 hours by rockfish, starfish, sculpins, kelp greenling, and cod. The adult male must be aggressive to drive away invading fish and invertebrates, and if something happens to him, the eggs will not survive. Unfortunately, this aggressive behavior of the male makes him more vulnerable to predation by seals, sea lions, and anglers.

Lingcod larvae measure ¼ to ½ inch (7-10 mm) in length. They drift with the ocean currents and grow rapidly by eating copepods and small fish. By mid-summer, when they are 3-inches (150 cm) long, they settle on the bottom in kelp or eelgrass beds and feed on juvenile herring or other small fish. They remain in shallow water as they grow. Adult lingcod are voracious predators and grow rapidly. They feed on invertebrates and fish, including other lingcod who are nearly their same size. Lingcod continue growing until they are 12 to 14 years old. Male lingcod have a maximum lifespan of 14 years, while females can live as long as 20 years.

Lingcod are popular for both sport and food. Their flesh is white with a natural blue-green tint. The blue coloration disappears when cooked. The flesh is dense and mild tasting and is high in protein, minerals, vitamins, and omega-3 fatty acids. Lingcod are taken by subsistence, sport, and commercial fishermen. Because they are so aggressive, they are excellent fighters for sport anglers.

Lingcod are highly susceptible to overfishing. Anglers can easily find lingcod because they live nearshore in shallow, rocky areas, and since they are so aggressive, they readily hit a lure. Once a lingcod population is overfished, it doesn’t recover for a long time. Because lingcod can be easily over-harvested, the Alaska Department of Fish and Game conservatively manages the lingcod fishery. To protect spawning females and nest-guarding males, sport and commercial fisheries are closed during the spawning and nest-guarding periods. Also, minimum size limits have been established to protect immature fish, and finally, catch limits are restricted.

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Mystery Newsletter

Meet Lawrence Shimkets

August 12, 2018Writingadventure fiction, adventure novel, adventure story, Lawrence Shimkets, Malice in the Palaceadmin

This week I would like to introduce adventure author and my guest blogger, Lawrence Shimkets. I know you will enjoy his post, and I highly recommend his novel, Malice in the Palace.

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I would like to thank Robin for giving me this opportunity to tell you about my unusual career path as a novelist. I began my first career as an Assistant Professor of Microbiology at the University of Georgia and won a prestigious award from U. S. President Ronald Reagan in 1984. I’ve had a 35-year career with international acclaim and fellowship in two prestigious scientific societies. I (semi)-retired in 2017, though I can’t seem to let go of my science fix entirely. So why would someone abandon a successful career as a research scientist and teacher for a second career as an unknown and fledgling fiction writer? In my case, there are two reasons. First, going back to my teenage years, I wanted to write fiction. In my youth, I went to the Carnegie Library in Pittsburgh every Saturday to check out books. Reading was a lifelong gift from my dear Mother. Today I read a lot and at the end of a book often say to myself, ‘I can do that even better’, with perfect (and sometimes misplaced) confidence. So, I stepped outside the ‘box’ of scientific academics to challenge myself to write fiction. I like thrillers and, inspired by David Baldacci’s Camel Club series, decided to try my hand at something similar. Beyond the challenge of creating something uniquely yours, I love those books that end with me wanting more from certain characters knowing I will never read about those characters again. Sweet sadness. My goal was to create characters who others feel the same about. With Malice in the Palace, I believe I have created compelling characters who bare their vices and virtues. Readers have asked for a sequel, and there will be at least two.

The second reason for my career shift is that I wanted to support causes in a way I never could as an academic. I love the sentence in the Declaration of Independence, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.” I feel passionate about social justice and wanted to champion people whose voices are ignored. Like most writers, I was strongly influenced by personal circumstances. Diane and I adopted two beautiful children from New Mexico who are predominately Native American. This pointed me in the direction of modern western themes. In addition, in my role as mentor and teacher, I was disappointed to see that women of extraordinary talent have glass ceilings, which are higher than those of comparably talented men. I wanted to develop an enviable female character who would gracefully showcase ingenuity and accomplishment. I received daily inspiration from five sisters, five sister-in-laws, mother and mother-in-law, wife, and daughter. At the same time, I understood that most men can’t write remarkable female characters. Though I fall short of the way Shakespeare’s Juliet pushed past social norms or Henrik Ibsen’s Nora discarded her ‘dollhouses’, I do hope that my female readers will be inspired to push through their personal glass ceilings.

I began working on Malice in the Palace in my spare time about 6 years ago, but I did not have much time to spend on it. I began by inventing characters on a dusty ranch just north of the Mexican border in my head as I fell asleep or on the drive to work (not both at the same time, fortunately). I found it rewarding to develop my imagination in a different way than a scientist, though it was a lengthy process for me that crystallized in fits and starts. Another roadblock was writing dialog-driven prose, which is entirely foreign to a narrative-driven science writer. It took me years to develop unique voices for the different characters and to embed them into a compelling, 21st-century plot. In 2017, serendipity played a role in the final development of Malice in the Palace as you might be able to tell from the title. Trump became president and I leveraged his regrettable words against women and military heroes, his desire to end health care for those with the greatest need, and his disdain for refugees, immigrants, and minorities. I was pleased to publish ‘Malice in the Palace’ on Martin Luther King Day in January 2018 with Outskirts Press.

Many people have offered praise for the fast-paced plot either personally or on websites such as Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Goodreads, or Facebook where it is averaging close to 5 stars. I invite you to evaluate it and offer your perspective, which can only help me become a more compelling author. If you want to offer comments or criticism, let me suggest two venues. First, my Goodreads author page has a Malice in the Palace discussion section and I welcome you to be the first to post there. Second, I started a Facebook author page https://www.facebook.com/myberthonearth/. I welcome you to post there.

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Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. If you like audiobooks, check out her audiobook version of Murder Over Kodiak. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

Mystery Newsletter

Dreamers

August 5, 2018Writingauthor, Lawrence Shimkets, Malice in the Palace, Robin Barefield, Writingadmin

Fiction authors are dreamers. Dreaming is essential to what we do. We dream up characters, we dream up settings, and we dream up stories to tell about our characters in these settings. We also dream people will read and enjoy our books. I dream of someday selling thousands of copies of my books and becoming a successful author, but even if I don’t, I will never stop writing the stories I have in my head. When I meet other authors, I realize most are like me. No matter what line of work they are in, they dream up stories they not only want but feel they must tell. As Maya Angelou said, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

I’m taking a break for the next two weeks from writing about fish, but for those of you who enjoy my wildlife posts, I‘ll continue my fish profiles soon.

Next week, I am thrilled to welcome author Lawrence Shimkets who has agreed to write a guest post for my blog. Lawrence is an acclaimed microbiology professor and researcher from the University of Georgia, and he will explain how an award-winning microbiologist became an action-adventure author.

I met Lawrence (Larry) Shimkets on LinkedIn, and we’ve corresponded about storytelling, writing, and promotion. I’ve met several other authors on LinkedIn, and while most of us have “day jobs,’ we feel driven to write and a need to tell the next story formulating in our minds. We are dreamers.

Larry is currently in Costa Rica teaching genetics in a classroom in the Monteverde Cloud Forest. Last month, he attended a microbiology conference in London, and a few weeks earlier, he and his wife spent time kayaking through the Florida Everglades. Larry travels the world and collects a rich array of settings he can use for his adventure novels.

I am reading Larry’s novel, Malice in the Palace, and it is a fun ride. I highly recommend it. Larry tells an exciting story, and I can only guess at the next dream burbling in his mind, waiting to be told.

I am in the process of writing my next novel, and I think about it constantly. Storytelling doesn’t follow a linear path for me. I write an outline, but part way through the manuscript, when my characters do something I don’t expect, I throw away the outline, and my dreams follow the twists and turns of my characters’ actions. Dreams are good. I’d be lost if I couldn’t tell my stories.

Please visit my blog next week and help me welcome Larry Shimkets as we get to know him better and learn what drove a world-renowned microbiologist to step away from the microscope, sit down at the computer, and dream up a thrilling adventure tale.

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Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. If you like audiobooks, check out her audiobook version of Murder Over Kodiak. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

Mystery Newsletter

Walleye Pollock (Gadus chalcogrammus)

July 29, 2018Fish, Kodiak WildlifeAlaska Fish, Alaska Pollock, Commercial Fishing, Gadus chalcogrammus, Pacific Cod, Pollock, Robin Barefield, Walleye Pollockadmin

The walleye or Alaska Pollock (Gadus chalcogrammus) is another species in the true cod family Gadidae. For a long time, taxonomists placed walleye pollock in a separate genus from Pacific cod, but researchers have recently shown pollock are closely related to Pacific and Atlantic cod, and most taxonomists now include walleye pollock in the genus Gadus.

Pollock are more streamlined than their gray cod cousins, but like cod, pollock have olive-green to tan mottled markings their backs. This coloration helps camouflage them from predators and prey when they rest and swim near the sandy ocean bottom. Pollock have silvery sides, white bellies, three dorsal fins, and two anal fins. Pollock have either no chin barbel or only a tiny barbel.

Pollock range from the Sea of Japan and the Sea of Okhotsk west to the Bering Sea and the Gulf of Alaska and south to Northern California. They migrate in a circular pattern, moving inshore to relatively shallow waters from 295 to 460 ft. (90 to 140 m) to breed and feed in March and then returning in December to the warmer, deeper waters of the continental shelf to 525 to 984 ft. (160 to 300 m). Pollock are semi-demersal (semi-bottom dwelling) but can be found anywhere from the surface to 1640 ft. (500 m).

Pollock spawn from March to mid-June. They form dense schools when spawning and broadcast eggs and sperm into the water. Fertilized eggs are planktonic, and depending on the temperature of the water, they incubate for approximately 10 to 27 days. When the larvae hatch, they have a yolk sac and float upside down at the water surface until the sac is absorbed.

Young pollock eat zooplankton, but as they grow, they begin adding fish to their diet. Adults feed on young pollock and other fish. Pollock grow rapidly and can reach a length of 3.4 ft. (105 cm) and a weight of 13.3 lbs. (6.05 kg). They usually don’t, live more than 10 years, but biologists in Alaska have recorded pollock as old as 22 years.

Alaska pollock is the largest fishery by volume in the United States and the second most important fishery in the world. The Alaska pollock has been called, “The largest remaining source of palatable fish in the world.”

From 1964 through 1980, only foreign vessels harvested Alaska pollock. U.S. vessels began to enter the fishery in 1980, and by 1987, U.S. boats harvested 99% of the quota. Since 1988, only U.S. vessels have operated in the Eastern Bering Sea pollock fishery. From 2002 to 2006, the Eastern Bering Sea pollock catch averaged 1.48 million metric tons worth $500 million annually.

While biologists do not believe pollock have been overfished, stocks have declined in recent years. The pollock fishery was originally a bottom fishery and trawls were dragged across the ocean bottom to catch the fish. As concerns about habitat degradation from bottom trawling grew, fishermen switched to pelagic trawl gear, which is deployed above the seabed. Controversy also swirls around the use of pelagic trawl gear, though, since the trawl is not specific to pollock but catches and often kills any fish it encounters.

Pollock is an important food for Steller sea lions, and when sea lion populations began decreasing, managers reduced fishery time and implemented area closures for pollock near critical sea lion habitat.

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Next week I plan to take a short break from fish and set the stage for a wonderful guest post from a fellow author the following week. Three weeks from now, I will write about lingcod. As always, thanks for visiting my blog.

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Mystery Newsletter

Pacific Cod Commercial Fishery

July 22, 2018Fish, Kodiak WildlifeAlaska Fishing, Atlantic Cod, Cod, Cod in Alaska, Pacific Cod, Robin Barefieldadmin

Three weeks ago, I wrote about the collapse of the Pacific cod population in central and southwestern Alaska. Over the course of two years, cod went from one of the most prolific fish species in the area to nearly non-existent. The Alaska Department of Fish and Game slashed commercial fishing quotas in 2017, but there were so few cod, commercial fishermen struggled even to catch the allowed poundage. The economic ramifications from the crash of the Pacific cod fishery are just beginning to affect Alaska’s ports, and biologists believe it will be years before the launch of another viable cod fishery.

This week, I’ll explain more about the history of the Pacific cod fishery and commercial methods for harvesting cod in Alaska. First, though, I want to emphasize the importance of Pacific cod not only to fishermen but also to consumers. Most of us at some point in our lives have eaten cod; whether it was a fish stick, a fish sandwich, fried fish, or baked white fish, cod is one of the most popular fish served by restaurants from fast-food drive-ins to diners to gourmet bistros. Cod has a mild flavor and a dense, flaky white flesh. It freezes well and can be shipped long distances. Cod liver oil is made from cod livers and is an important source of vitamin A, vitamin D, vitamin E, and omega-3-fatty acids.

The Pacific cod fishery gained traction just as the Atlantic cod fishery began to crash. The Atlantic cod fishery lasted for more than 1000 years and was popular even during the Viking period, around 800 AD. The fishery was vital to Europe, Canada, and the U.S., but this widespread popularity of Atlantic cod led to its downfall. Atlantic cod populations survived centuries of human strife, ranging from plagues to wars, only to be fished to the point of annihilation because the many countries that commercially fished cod couldn’t agree on regulations to protect this valuable resource. With Atlantic cod no longer available, fish buyers looked to the Pacific.

Pacific cod have been commercially fished on a small scale since the 19th century, but the modern commercial fishery began in the early 1960s with the Japanese longline fishery in the Bering Sea/ Aleutian Island (BSAI) region. Between 1980 and 1989, a U.S. trawl fishery and several joint venture fisheries began in both the BSAI and the Gulf of Alaska (GOA) regions, and by 1989 the U.S. commercial cod fishery overtook the foreign fishery in both the BSAI and GOA regions.

Multiple methods are now used to harvest Pacific cod, including trawl, longline, pot, and jigging. Between 1991 and 1999, trawl gear accounted for 52% of the cod catch, longline gear took 37% of the harvest, and pot gear caught 11%. After 2000, however, longline fishing became the most productive means of landing cod. Between 2000 and 2006, longline gear accounted for 46% of the catch, trawl gear 37%, and pot gear 16%.

According to recent NOAA Fisheries Service surveys of Pacific cod stocks taken only a few years before the population collapsed, the cod stocks in Alaskan waters were stable and were not being over-fished. In 2010, NOAA estimated the BSAI stock at 1 million metric tons and the GOA stock at 0.4 million tons. Biologists have closely regulated the Pacific cod fishery and have erred on the side of caution by setting strict quotas to protect not only the cod fishery but also marine mammals such as Steller sea lions that depend on cod for food.

Researchers are now working diligently to discover what happened to the Pacific cod. Why did the cod population crash in Alaska? The leading theory is the crash was caused by warmer-than-normal ocean temperatures which in turn caused a reduction in the biomass of phytoplankton and zooplankton in the North Pacific. Juvenile cod, like most young fish, depend on zooplankton as a food source. Because of the reduction of zooplankton in the North Pacific, juvenile cod had little to eat, and many starved to death.

If the zooplankton biomass in the North Pacific has decreased to the point where cod can’t find enough to eat, we should all be concerned, not only for cod but for all animals in this portion of the sea. Marine animals from the smallest fish and birds to the largest whales depend on phytoplankton and zooplankton to survive.

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Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. If you like audiobooks, check out her audiobook version of Murder Over Kodiak. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

Mystery Newsletter

Pacific Cod (Gadus macrocephalus)

July 15, 2018Fish, Kodiak WildlifeAlaska Fish, Cod, Cod Biology, Kodiak Fish, Pacific Cod, Robin Barefieldadmin

True cod belong to the genus Gadus. The two most common members of the genus Gadus are the Atlantic cod (Gadus morhua) and the Pacific cod (Gadus macrocephalus). These two species are similar in appearance, reproductive biology, and lifecycles. Pacific cod are also known as grey cod, gray cod, greyfish, or grayfish.

Pacific cod range from Japan to the Bering Strait and the Gulf of Alaska and south as far as Northern California. Pacific cod are bottom dwellers and are usually found between depths of 40 to 1800 ft. (12-549 m). They tend to move into deeper water in the fall and winter.

A Pacific cod’s body is elongate and ranges in color from grey to brown on the back and sides to a pale cream on the stomach. Mottled spots or pale areas cover the backs and sides. A cod has a triangular tail, three rounded dorsal fins, and two anal fins. The fins are dusky colored and have white edges. The upper jaw of a cod extends over the lower jaw, and it is easy to identify a Pacific cod by its single chin barbel, or whisker, that has a length nearly equal to its eye diameter. Female cod can grow to 58 inches (147 cm) in length and weigh 55 lbs. (25 kg) Males are slightly smaller and can reach a length of 55 inches (141 cm) and weigh 44 lbs. (20 kg).

Female cod reach sexual maturity when they are four to five years old at a length of 20 to 23 inches (50-58 cm). In Alaska, most spawning activity occurs in March. Males court females by displaying their fins and grunting. A male and female then pair, and the male swims upside down under the female while she releases her eggs and he releases his sperm. The fertilized eggs then sink to the bottom where they remain for eight to 23 days before the hatch. A newly-hatched cod enters a planktonic phase for the next ten weeks while its body weight increases by 40-fold. When it is approximately 0.79 inches (2 cm) the cod moves to the sea floor and begins eating benthic crustaceans, such as isopods and small crabs. After six months, the cod is approximately 3.1 inches (8 cm) long, and by the end of the first year, it has attained a length of 5.5 – 7.1 inches (14-18 cm). Small cod eat mostly invertebrates, while larger Pacific cod feed on invertebrates and fish.

Cod live a maximum of 18 years. They are plagued by parasites, including the cod worm, Lernaeocera branchialis. Cod worms have a complex lifecycle. They begin as free-swimming larvae but then hook to the front of a flatfish or a lumpsucker. The worms penetrate the flesh of the fish with a fine filament and suck the blood of their host. The worms then mate, and the female worm finds a cod and clings to the cod’s gills, where it then penetrates the body of the cod and enters its heart. The front part of the worm forms branches and burrows into the main artery of the cod and extracts nutrients for itself and its eggs from the cod’s blood. Other parasites also infect cod, and anglers commonly catch cod covered by sores.

Cod are important food fish for larger fish, sharks, and marine mammals, including the endangered Stellar sea lion. They are also a commercially valuable food fish for humans.
Next week, I’ll write more about the importance of cod as a commercial species, and I’ll discuss the various methods of harvesting them.

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Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. If you like audiobooks, check out her audiobook version of Murder Over Kodiak. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

Mystery Newsletter

What is a Cod?

July 8, 2018Fish, Kodiak WildlifeBlack Cod, Cod in Alaska, Lingcod, Pacific Cod, Pollock, Tomcodadmin

Four species of fish in the Gulf of Alaska have the common name “cod,” but only two of these species, the tomcod and Pacific grey cod, are true cod. Common fish names are often misleading and confusing. For example, brown trout (Salmo trutta) belong to the genus Salmo, while cutthroat trout (Oncorhynchus clarki) and rainbow trout (Oncorhynchus mykiss) are in the genus Oncorhynchus. To confuse the issue even more, brook trout (Salvelinus fontinalis), lake trout (Salvelinus namaycush), and Dolly Varden trout (Salvelinus malma) are char, not trout. Also, in the southern United States, bullheads are catfish, while in Alaska, we call sculpins bullheads.

True Cod and Imposter Cod

Lingcod (Ophiodon elongatus) and black cod (Anoplopoma fimbria) are not only unrelatedto Pacific grey cod (Gadus macrocephalus) and Pacific tomcod (Microgadus proximus), but they look quite different from the two “true” cod species. Pollock (Gadus chalcogrammus), though, a species closely related to a Pacific grey cod, isn’t even referred to as a cod. With these confusing common names, we can forgive an angler for not knowing whether he has caught a “true cod” or some unrelated fish.

Last week, I wrote about the crash of the Pacific cod population in the Gulf of Alaska. In that post, I was discussing only Pacific grey cod. Over the next few weeks, I’ll write posts about the true cod species as well as the cod imposters in Alaskan waters. I hope to clear up any confusion surrounding cod and their common names.

Pacific Tomcod

The Pacific tomcod (Microgadus proximus) is one of the smaller members of the cod family, reaching a maximum size of 12 inches (30.5 cm). Its body is slender and covered with small, thin scales, but it feels smooth to the touch. It ranges in color from olive green to brown on its dorsal surface and creamy white on its ventral surface. Like its cousin the grey cod, a tomcod has a barbel on its chin, three dorsal fins, two anal fins, a large head, and a large mouth with small teeth. A tomcod’s barbel is smaller than a Pacific grey cod’s barbel, and unlike a Pacific cod, a tomcod’s dorsal fins do not contain spines. Despite these differences, a tomcod looks very much like a small Pacific grey cod.

Tomcod range from central California to western Alaska and can be found anywhere from the surface to as deep as 700 feet. They feed on zooplankton, shrimp, worms, and small fish and in turn, are a food source for larger fish, seals, and sea lions. Because of their small size, tomcod are not an important species for either commercial or sport fishermen, but they are a good food fish and have a sweet, subtle flavor.

Next week, I’ll discuss grey cod. I have already posted about their declining numbers in Alaskan waters, but I’ll delve more into their biology, importance in the ecosystem, and their value as a human food source. The following week, I’ll point out the differences between Pacific and Atlantic cod.

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Mystery Newsletter

What Happened to the Pacific Grey Cod?

July 1, 2018Fish, Kodiak WildlifeCod, Cod Crash in Alaska, Cod in Alaska, Crash of Pacific Grey Cod, Grey Cod, Pacific Cod, Robin Barefield, The Blobadmin

In October 2017, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) made a shocking announcement. Pacific cod (or grey cod) stocks in the Gulf of Alaska had declined 71% since 2015 and 83% since 2013. Cod, once one of the most plentiful fish in Alaskan waters, suddenly became a rare catch, devastating one of the most lucrative commercial fisheries in the state. Biologists scrambled to learn why cod were dying and why the few cod caught weighed less than normal and appeared malnourished.

While researchers yet do not have empirical evidence to support their theory, they have a good idea why cod populations have crashed. During the winter of 2013/2014, scientists mapped an unusually warm, large, circular body of seawater in the North Pacific Ocean. This mass of water didn’t cool as winter progressed but instead hovered several degrees above the normal winter temperature. Scientists nicknamed the mass of warm water the “Blob.” In February 2014, the Blob remained 4.5° F (2.5°C) warmer than the average February ocean temperature.

Warm water temperatures persisted throughout 2014, and oceanographers noted these were the warmest temperatures ever measured in the North Pacific Ocean since climatologists began recording ocean temperatures. Along with these warm water temperatures, a static high-pressure region in the atmosphere persisted throughout much of 2014, resulting in a lack of the normal wind-generated currents that stir the surface waters of the North Pacific.

This warm, calm mass of water produced far-reaching effects on the biology of the North Pacific. Without an upwelling of cooler water and nutrients, the surface waters of the warm Blob became stagnant, resulting in reduced phytoplankton production. Phytoplankton is the platform for the ocean food pyramid, and without a healthy supply of phytoplankton, the pyramid collapses. Zooplankton can’t survive unless they have phytoplankton to eat, and without zooplankton, many fish species, including the juveniles of most species, will starve. Plankton-eating fish provide the food supply for larger fish, and all fish, mammals, and birds dependent on marine life to survive will suffer from a reduction in phytoplankton productivity.

A lack of food was not the only problem Pacific cod faced, though. The increased ocean temperatures raised their metabolism while reducing the available food. With less food, the average size of the cod dropped. A 2015 NOAA survey showed cod were the skinniest ever recorded, and at this same time, mortality rates skyrocketed for the younger age classes of cod, an indication the cod population would not recover for many years. The warm water and lack of nutrients also negatively affected cod egg production.

Will the Pacific grey cod recover? Biologists don’t know the answer to this question, but even if cod populations begin to recover now, they will not be commercially viable until at least 2021. The crash of the cod fishery has had a negative impact on the economies of Alaska fishing ports, and the decline of cod is certain to impact the food web of the North Pacific.