PSLA Associate Professor Maile Neel and colleagues pose in front of a sign (top) for Cumberland, Maryland, 184.5 miles away from Washington, D.C., on the C&O Canal.
Image Credit: Maile Neel
(This article appears in the July 2013 edition of Chesapeake Quarterly, a magazine published by Maryland Sea Grant. Click here to read the full story.)
THE SCIENTISTS LEFT CUMBERLAND, MARYLAND on their bikes on a steamy summer morning. Their destination was Washington, D.C., nearly 185 miles away and down a looping trail, the C&O Canal, that follows the Potomac River. The ride wasn't a pleasure jaunt: along the way, the five researchers would stop about every six miles to wade into the river to collect aquatic grasses.
This survey-by-bike, which took four days to finish, was the brainchild of Maile Neel. She works as a plant scientist at the University of Maryland, College Park. The scientist, whose time outdoors shows on her tanned skin, competes in "ultra-distance" rides, crossing nearly 750 miles of terrain in only 90 hours. So the team's pace of about 45 miles a day was downright leisurely for her. It was less easy for the four students she brought along, some of whom hadn't ridden a bike in years.
The sore hamstrings, however, were worth it. On their trip, the five riders were able to collect shoots representing the full range of diversity in the upper Potomac's wild celery (Vallisneria americana).
This green plant (shown left), which has thin leaves that roll with the current, is one of the most common and recognizable species of underwater vegetation in the Chesapeake Bay watershed. And it plays an important role in the ecosystem, helping to trap the floating, excess nutrients and sediments that make the Bay's water murky. These aquatic grasses also provide shade and shelter to dozens of Bay animals.
But just like people, wild celery plants aren't all alike, Neel explains. Look closely, and you'll see subtle differences in the lengths of their roots and the widths of their leaves. Scientists have uncovered other, less-obvious differences, too, such as how well the plants tolerate saltiness in the water. This diversity of characteristics comes from the unique combination of genes — called a genotype — that each of these plants carries. The differences help the plants to survive in the unique habitats where they grow.
Such genetic variety within a single species is a form of biodiversity. But how important this genetic diversity can be to the survival of a species is still poorly understood. It was a question that Neel and her team wanted to answer for wild celery in the Bay. "Ultimately, the question is, does the genetic diversity that's present have some contribution...to how these populations are going to respond to climate change or to environmental assault," she says. (Pictured: Neel and two of her students gather in the greenhouse to plant wild celery “tubers,” small structures that spend the winter buried under sediment.)
Read the rest of this article in Chesapeake Quarterly by clicking here.
