The phrase “summer camp” usually brings to mind images of toasted marshmallows, campfires and wobbly canoe trips.
One thing that you won’t find at a typical summer camp? Bones.
But for the kids at this year’s “Marine Mammal Mystery Camp,” bones are a pretty big part of the experience.
“That’s a really strange shaped bone. It reminds me of a camel,” one camper says, giggling.
You see, instead of making s'mores, these kids are putting together a sea lion skeleton.
“That bone goes there, this one goes there,” says one camper as she carefully positions the flipper bones.
Every year, the Center for Alaskan Coastal Studies in Homer hosts the five-day, four-night camp at Peterson Bay Field Station. Campers range in age from 9 to 15, but they have one thing in common: they’re seriously into marine mammals.
Homer resident Lee Post, a.k.a. “Mr. Bone,” helps the campers arrange the ten-foot Stellar sea lion skeleton on three folding tables.
“For a lot of these kids that’s the first time they’ve gotten to hold real bones or look at ‘em,” said Post.
The curved rib bones and knobby vertebrae look like weathered pieces of wood. Putting the skeleton together has been a little difficult, says Post, because some of the bones are missing.
“It’s a total missing piece puzzle!” said Post.
With a total of 20 kids, this is the biggest marine mammal camp they’ve had since it began in 2011. They do a variety of activities, but the whale watch is clearly the highlight of the week.
The next morning, the campers pile onto the Torega, a 30-foot boat painted canary yellow.
Captain Karl Stoltzfus carefully maneuvers around Gull Island in Kachemak Bay. The rocky little island is covered in dozens of seabirds.
Local naturalist Axel Gillam points out the different seabirds. He’s one of the counselors leading the camp.
“The ones with the long weird necks? Those are called cormorants,” Gillam explains.
Captain Karl scans the horizon, looking for the spray of a whale surfacing. Although humpback whales are the most common species in Kachemak Bay, he says that you can sometimes see orcas and other fin whales.
“You never know what’s gonna be out here,” he says, squinting into the sun.
In the back of the boat, Axel tells the campers what to expect.
“What you guys want to look and listen for is the blow. So when the whale comes up to the surface, it’ll go ‘PSSHH’,” Gillam says, mimicking the sound of a whale.
They peer through binoculars, jostling for a spot at the edge of the boat.
“There she blows!” one camper shouts.
The glossy dark skin of a humpback appears above the water for a few moments. Then the whale dives again, showing its curved tail flukes.
Axel lowers a small golf ball-sized microphone on a long cord into the water. It’s a special piece of underwater equipment called a hydrophone.
“Since we’re listening for humpbacks, it’s going to sound like a classic whale noise,” he explains.
The kids press their ears against a big speaker, straining to hear the sounds of the whale. The humpback appears again in the distance, but the speaker stays silent.
Later in the week, the campers are back in Homer. They cluster around a plastic folding table under a pop-up tent. They’re about to watch a sea otter necropsy. A necropsy is like an autopsy, but for animals.
Adriana Ferello-Shehan works with the U.S. Fish and WildlifeMarine Mammal Management office. She lays out her dissection tools on the table, along with a pile of plastic vials.
The otter on the folding table is five feet long from head to tail and about 80 pounds. He was found washed up on the Homer spit, but Adriana isn’t sure why he died. That’s what the necropsy is for.
“Do you guys know what rigor is? Yeah, rigor mortis. So, he’s still a little stiff, which is good because that means that he’s fresh,” she explains.
Adriana is a bit like a detective, collecting evidence. She takes tooth samples, whiskers, fur, urine and feces. She also collects tiny pieces of the otter’s organs to send away for analysis, including his heart and liver.
“His heart’s huge!” a camper exclaims.
“Can I hold it?” another asks.
She carefully dissects the heart, revealing a huge blood clot.
“I opened it up and you guys can see how much clotting there is,” Adriana says, holding the otter’s heart in her hand. The kids lean in for a closer look.
Inside one of the otter’s main arteries near its legs is another big clot.
“You see how thick it is. And you can actually feel the jello feel that we were feeling with those clots,” Adriana explains.
Clotting in the heart and arteries is a good indication that this otter died from a bacterial infection, says Adriana. Last year, several hundred otters died around Kachemak Bay from Streptococcus bacterial infections. She’s quick to point out that while this type of bacteria can be fatal for otters, humans can’t catch it.
For over an hour, the campers are completely engrossed in the process.
It’s not hard to imagine future marine mammal scientists among their ranks, especially the ones that push to the front and pepper Adriana with questions.
The Center for Alaskan Coastal Studies provides a variety of programs throughout the year for all ages. More information is available at http://www.akcoastalstudies.org.