In Antarctica, scientist Gifford Wong attempts to save a seal that has gone into “dive mode.”
Gifford Wong is an American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) Science and Technology Policy Fellow working at the Department of State. He previously served in the Senate as the American Geosciences Institute Congressional Geoscience Fellow. He received his Ph.D. in Earth Sciences from Dartmouth College, his Honours in Antarctic Studies from the University of Tasmania at Hobart, and his Bachelor’s degree in Asian American Studies from the University of California at Berkeley. He has done fieldwork in Greenland and Antarctica, co-developed and co-instructed a graduate-level science communication course at Dartmouth, and thinks penguins and unicorns are cool. Every now and again he is on Twitter as @giffordwong.
This story originally aired on Aug. 11, 2017 .
Story Transcript
Imagine a place so cold that even in the summertime the sea freezes over and all you hear are the cries of seals and penguins. It’s summertime in the southern hemisphere and it’s a bluebird day, and all you can see is the telltale puff of Mount Erebus, the southernmost active volcano in the world. I’m kneeling next to Crystal, a female Weddell seal maybe 30 yards from a sea ice crack.
I’m not alone. I’m with Rob and Scott. Rob and Scott have been researching seals for maybe 25 years between them. And this is the first time that I've told this story because those aren’t their real names.
Dressed in a puffy coat and Carhartts, you could say I was working outside what my mom thought was socially acceptable. Now, I know my mom loves me, as every mother does, so let me set the scene in that moment just a few years removed from graduating undergrad.
I grew up in California in an Asian-American household ruled by what we now call a tiger mom. My mom is probably tiger mom light. But I still only new three career choices: doctor, lawyer, or engineer. I liked cars so I went the engineering route. I went to Cal to study mechanical engineering, and about the third year, something happened.
I learned about community engagement. I found this tutorial service that empowered K-through-twelve students in Oakland’s Chinatown to do better in school, and I changed my major to Asian-American studies. Mom was not thrilled. But I wanted to serve communities so after finishing college I found AmeriCorps. There, I met so many inspired people doing so many amazing projects across the country and learned so many valuable lessons, one of which was at a job fair in Denver. There are seasonal jobs to be had in Antarctica. What???
First opportunity I could, I applied to be a general assistant at the U.S. Antarctic Program’s McMurdo Station. General assistant is like the entry level job next to janitor or dishwasher, but it was like a dream come true. If for no other reason, it got me to this marvelous city on top of this storied stage talking in front of all you beautiful people.
For those of you who don’t know, the U.S. Antarctic Program operates three stations on the icy continent, McMurdo station, South Pole Station, and Palmer Station. So if everyone could just do me the favor, take your left hand and make a hitchhiker’s thumb and face the palm. This is Antarctica. Your thumb is the Antarctic Peninsula pointing toward South America, and Palmer Station is close to the tip. Your fingernails represent the Transantartic Mountains, which essentially splits the continent between the West Antarctic and East Antarctic ice sheets.
South Pole Station is on the East Antarctic ice sheet near the first knuckle of your middle finger. The Weddell Sea is the web of your hand, and the meat of your palm is the Ross Sea. Ross Island, where McMurdo station is built and where the story takes place, is right around your ring finger’s fingernail.
So back to Crystal. Crystal is part of a dive study looking at how much energy seals expend when they're looking for food underneath the sea ice. This is Rob’s project. Crystal is also part of a larger long-term study looking at how seal populations are doing around Ross Island. This is Scott’s project. How did I get to work with these seal scientists as a general assistant who has no background in science? Let’s just say Rob ran over his grad student’s leg with the camp’s snowcat, breaking her leg in the process.
So right now, the instruments of Rob’s project that you attach to the seal that measure how quickly they move need to be detached from the seal, that’s why Rob, Scott, and I went out to Crystal in the first place.
Now, to detach or attach these instruments, Rob has a technique that we call Flag, Bag, and Tag. You need at least two scientists, but preferably three. Scientist Number One takes a bamboo pole with a flag on it, stands in front of the seal, and waves it around. This distracts the seal.
The second scientist, or sometimes general assistant, has to take a vinyl bag with heavy-duty ropes and sneak behind the seal until you're straddling the seal and you fling the bag over the seal‘s head. Typically, the seal will calm down inside the dark bag. But every now and again you better hang on for the oddest eight seconds of your life until the seal stops bucking and calms down.
With the bag still over the now calm seal’s head we introduce an anesthetic that knocks the seal momentarily out. This is what allows us to attach and detach these instruments. The key word, though, is momentarily. Crystal should be breathing right now, vocalizing, moving around, maybe wandering away from us. Instead, I’m kneeling next to a thousand-pound cow with no legs who hasn’t taken a breath in over ten minutes.
We know this because we've been watching her, staring at her body, hoping that it would rise and fall with the action of breathing. Scott even took off his glove and put his hand next to her nostrils to feel for breath like they do in the movies. Nothing.
Now, if you or I fell unresponsive and someone here called the paramedics, one of the first tests they might try is something called the sternal rub. It’s a great way to assess whether a patient is actually unconscious or just really, really tired. It turns out Weddell seals have a similar move. If you rub the area on their snout between their eyes, it supposedly wakes them right up, usually.
So Scott now kneels down, takes off his glove, rubs Crystal’s snout. Nothing. Scott continues to rub Crystal’s snout. Rob and I are jumping up and down clapping, yelling. Still nothing. We go at this for about like a minute or two. Scott and Rob look really, really anxious. And I’m not the expert. I just assist generally. I’m just like, what’s going on? “What’s going on?”
So they have this conversation and basically they at least rule out -- Crystal is not dead. Because that would be a whole mountain of paperwork that no one wants to do. The reality is they think that Crystal is just in what‘s called dive mode, and this sometimes happens when you sedate seals. You see, seals have this flap way down their throat that when they dive, it closes, protecting their lungs from potential sea water coming in.
Now, this flap is, like I said, way down the seal’s body. Scott’s idea is to resuscitate Crystal by opening up her airway. Then he says, “Well, I've never done this myself. I've only seen my adviser do it in the field back when I was a grad student, so I have the concept in mind, but I’m not sure if I know what I’m looking for.”
I’m sitting there thinking, “Is that all? I mean, is there, like, CPR involved after you release the flap?” I remember taking an EMT course and my instructor said, “CPR is only 100 percent effective on Baywatch.” Everywhere else there's a chance that the patient will die. In fact, CPR will more likely fail than succeed. Again, I’m a general assistant. I know my place, but I’m not putting my lips on that seal’s mouth. I’m a general assistant, I’m not a seal doctor.
Scott assures me that, once the flap is released, Crystal will breathe spontaneously. All you have to do is tickle it. Now, between you, me, and your high school self, when was the last time something went smoothly the first time you tried it, especially when you couldn’t see what you were doing?
All right. So here’s the game plan. Scott’s going to take his arm, insert it into Crystal’s mouth, down her throat, find the flap, tickle it, saving the seal. Rob and I have an important job also. All we have to do is make sure Crystal doesn’t bite Scott’s arm off, because remember, Crystal is a predator, a half-ton fish-eating machine with teeth.
So Rob takes a length of rope, climbs on top of Crystal, wraps it around her upper jaw, and pulls back. I’m the general assistant, I get the crap job. I get the bag with the rope handle, wrap it around Crystal’s lower jaw, which means I’m face-to-snout with Crystal on my stomach. Not only do I feel just a little vulnerable, she just eats fish. All that fish breath is wafting over me.
Scott takes off his jacket, rolls his sleeve up as high as it can go, and says, “Okay. On the count of three, I’m gonna stick my arm into Crystal’s mouth. One, two, three. Oh, my God!”
So Rob jumps off, I do the snowiest tuck-and-roll in my life. Crystal is not breathing. We turn to Scott. “What’s up, Scott?”
Scott says, “I thought I felt something. Sorry, guys. False alarm. I’m ready. I am so ready right now. Crystal’s not gonna die. Okay, here we go.”
So Rob gets back on, I get back on my stomach. Scott’s like, “All right, guys. One, two, three.” Tickle, tickle, tickle. [snorts] Crystal’s alive! What??? Starts breathing, starts vocalizing, and groggily slumps off towards the sea ice crack that was thirty yards away.
I can’t believe what I just saw. We all can’t believe what we just saw. We just resuscitated an unconscious seal. Right? Like we’re jumping up and down literally like little school boys, high-fiving, “What-up?” That’s when we decided we shouldn’t tell this story to anyone because this was kind of heavy. The seal almost died. But I mean, you all look trustworthy, it happened over a decade ago, and I used fake names.
So the take-home message is obviously clear. If you run across a seal who happens to be sedated and won’t wake up even after you rubbed her snout, don’t forget the tickle-the-flap trick.
But since that crazy day, I've been back to Antarctica eight times, even gone to Greenland four times and earned my PhD along the way. Mom was thrilled. But Crystal was my first polar science adventure. And without a doubt, she's the reason why I started my slippery slide into sciencedom. I've traded my puffy coat and Carhartts for a suit and tie, and I work at the intersection of science, policy and diplomacy. But you never forget your first. Thanks, Crystal.