“Droning on about Arctic change” was a joke title that collaborator Jeff Kerby and myself came up with for a presentation recently, but it does actually accurately describe some of the research that we are doing here on Team Shrub. Nearly three years ago our research project – the ShrubTundra project, was funded by the Natural Environmental Research Council and that has given us the opportunity to get into the drone ecology business and travel for the past three summers up to the Canadian Arctic to bridge the gap between satellite and on the ground observations of vegetation. In this long-awaited blog post, I will tell you all about the drone research we have been conducting on the island, the new collaborations that we are building with drone ecologists around the Arctic and the preliminary results of our work thus far. Is the Arctic greening that satellites are sensing the same vegetation change that we observe on the ground?  Here I go… droning on about Arctic change.

Much of drone technology has been out there for decades, including remotely controlled planes and military unmanned aerial vehicles, but with the commercialization of high powered batteries and the development of automated flight technologies, drones have literally taken off! In the past half-decade or so, the promise of drone technology for scientific research has begun to be realized and we hope that the ShrubTundra project is leading the way for drone ecology in tundra ecosystems. Drones are allowing ecologists to observe ecological processes at the landscape scale such as phenological changes, plant growth and community composition change. We have learned a lot over the past three years in our drone research and made some important discoveries so far, but there is much work to do.  As we continue to collect terabytes of data out here in the Canadian Arctic, we can look forward to the data presents that will be revealed over the coming year.

The drone team up on the island is led by postdoc Andrew Cunliffe or as it says on his drinking glass – “Y Up”, and visiting researcher Jeff Kerby, “J-man the K-dog”.  We are joined this year by drone pilot Will Palmer aka “Tool Bag”, our first commercial drone pilot on the team.  Providing assistance to the team here on the island is soon-to-be PhD student “33 Thimbles” Gergana Daskalova, and me “Magnum PI” or “Captain Shrub” Isla Myers-Smith.  And back in Edinburgh is our support team including PhD student Jakob Assmann, NERC Airborne GeoSciences manager Tom Wade, the NERC Field Spectroscopy Facility, NERC Geophysical Equipment Facility and the rest of Team Shrub. I will also give a shout out to a new Team Shrub member Karol Stanski who is an informatics master’s student co-supervised by Chris Lucas working on automated processing of some of our drone data – counting flowers from above.  Drone research definitely takes a whole team and as always we are indebted to you guys on the outside for helping us keep the drones in the air and the sensors working to keep the data flowing in.

In the ShrubTundra Project, we are using the drones to understand the following four scientific questions:

1. How does landscape-level phenology (the timing of green up, flowering and browning and browning of tundra plants each year) relate to on-the-ground and satellite observations?
2. What environmental factors (such as soil moisture) explain where the greenest parts of the landscape are found and where vegetation change is occurring most rapidly?  And are there particular spatial scales of investigation where these relationships are strongest?
3. How can we scale vegetation change observations from the individual plant, plant community, landscape to biome?  And are the relationships between on-the-ground, drone and satellite data found at our focal research site on Qikiqtaruk-Herschel Island consistent with data from other sites around the Arctic?
4. What are the rates and volumes of permafrost and coastal erosion disturbances across the landscape and are these rates accelerating?

In our final year of the project, funded by the UK Arctic Bursary programme, we are teaming up with Trevor Lantz from the University of Victoria and Robert Fraser from Natural Resources Canada working at other sites in the Western Canadian Arctic, and other researchers working at sites around the Arctic through the High-latitude Drone Ecology Network to try to test these questions in a coordinated way across the tundra biome.

Collecting data using drones is a bit different from other ecological work. You are much more dependent on the weather. Too much wind, any rain, any fog, even just clouds can all get in the way of drone flights. There is nothing so frustrating as carrying all of our equipment out to the most remote of our sites only to find that the weather has changed and we can no longer fly. This summer we have been chased out of the field by thunderstorms, sudden wind gusts and downpours of rain. But recently the weather has been pretty good for drone flying and we have had some really big data collection days – with over 26,000 images and 70 GBs of data collected in six hours of airtime around solar noon, using quadcopters and fixed wings. When you collect that much data in one day there is a lot of post data collection work to do that we have been calling “metadata”, but that really only describes part of the work from charging drone batteries to collating images, reviewing their quality and writing up all of the flight information.

The thing with working with drones is sometimes you run across “drone troubles”.  Whether it is too few satellites, compass calibration issues, funky cable connections to the camera sensors, there are always different types of challenges to the work. One thing we have learned from doing drone work in the Arctic is to bring spares and to plan for every contingency. This summer we have expanded our drone fleet: at one point, we figured there were around 15 drones or potential drones on the island, including spare parts. We have brought with us two hexacopters (Tarot 680s), five fixed-wing drones with most of the spare parts for around three more (Zeta FX-61s), three DJI Phantoms (two DJI P4 Pros and one P4 Advanced), two 3DR Iris+ and, for the first bit of the season we also had a Parrot Disco Ag and a DJI Mavic. All of these different drone platforms provide us with many options for data collection, from fine-scale data collection flown at 20 m height for structure-from-motion work to make 3D models of shrub canopies to ‘high altitude’ 120 m flights for large extent models of tundra greenness across the landscape.

So, what have we found so far with our drone work? Most of the data processing is still ahead of us, but there have been some data presents so far this season. We have observed over 10 m of coastal erosion in a two-week period at the edge of the floodplain near our camp – that is very fast even for this rapidly eroding island. We have also observed rapid rates of thaw in the permafrost disturbances known as retrogressive thaw slumps, with large sections of the ground being lost to the mud cesspool below over the past year. Our on-the-ground phenology data indicates that this is an early year, and we are hoping that the drone data also shows that pattern in the time series of multispectral imagery.

For future updates on all things drone, stay tuned to the blog over the field season and through the fall.  And if you are keen on high latitude drone ecology yourself, then sign up for the HiLDEN network!

By Isla

Over the last two months we have often asked you to imagine what it would be like to be here with us in the Arctic. Through words, photos and videos, we have tried to bring the Arctic closer to you. So close that if you just imagine, you may well see it. You could even hear it. If you ponder the many changes occurring on Qikiqtaruk Herschel Island, from changes in vegetation structure and community composition to changes in what our life is like here, and listen again, you could hear a change. The Arctic – you can see it, you can hear it, and now, for a fuller experience, we present the Arctic smellscape of Qikiqtaruk, so you can smell it, too. It may have started as a joke, and there may or may not be talk of an Arctic taste- and touchscape, but for now, we do think that the Arctic smellscape represents a unique blend of aromas – smell alone could often reveal what is going on around us and how the landscape, and our day to day camp life, is changing.

As we step through the tundra, we often think of Team Shrub members that are not out in the field with us this year – though of course we do that regardless of what the air around us smells like, there are particular aromas we associate with people. A whiff of Ledum reminds us of Haydn who dedicated a song to this fragrant flowering plant: “Ledum, I want to get some… Ledum, you rhododendron”. It has been quite hot here, and patches of Ledum bring a bit of freshness like a fine perfume into the stale mosquito-ridden air!

Of course, it is almost always followed by a much more prominent smell that follows us almost everywhere we go – mosquito repellent! Layers and layers of mosquito repellent quickly disguise any smell of cleanliness one might have acquired from the sauna the night before. But the chemical smell brings with it reprieve from the persistent insect attacks, and thus the smell is now associated for us with a major sense of relief.

We managed to catch a whiff of forest fires far away – perhaps in Alaska or down by Old Crow the other day? Tundra fires are becoming more frequent across the biome, and though we haven’t seen any here on Qikiqtaruk, we think we’ve smelled fires further away either in the tundra out west or boreal forst down south – making us realise how the impacts of disturbances often extend beyond the places where they directly occur.

On a jollier smell note, the smell of burned wood, in particular when around camp, could also mean grilled char cooking on the fire! We have been treated to delicious char caught by the rangers, and it has been the perfect addition to our meals – from smoked char, grilled char, char soup and char fishcakes, we have enjoyed bountiful char that the ocean and rangers have to offer, both its taste and smell!  A whiff of smoke while returning to camp could also mean that the sauna is on and a chance to get clean and relax after a hard day’s work.  We miss Santeri’s sauna songs and Finnish sauna expertise, the sauna experience isn’t quite the same without him: “Herre Letonen, herre Letonen…”.

The last two weeks have been marked by the strong and very distinct smell of slump – we have been to slumps ABC and D, where complex biochemical reactions fill up the air with a smell no less complex – it is not a bad smell as one might imagine initially, just very specific to the slumps and coastal erosion. It smells like freshly turned earth, like rotting compost, but stronger, and different in a way that is hard to pin down.  What are those complex molecules filling the air associated with anaerobic decomposition?

Slump D is one of the largest retrogressive thaw slumps in the Northern Hemisphere. It would certainly be hard to mistake it for something else, but if ever in doubt, its smellscape certainly confirms that we are near a massive retrogressive thaw slump! Recently we have been picking up that smell near camp as well, where big chunks of ground have been disappearing into the water – on some days as much as 3m of land has been succumbing under the waves, This rapid coastal erosion has already reshaped the Qikiqtaruk coastline near Pauline Cove. We have been working to monitor this erosion in collaboration with the Alfred Wegener Institute using drones and time lapse cameras – documenting the rapid retreat of the coastline and blocks of tundra disappearing into the waves.

In our soundscape, silence was particularly special – peace and quiet to ponder life, reflect on our time here, or just be. Here, in our Qikiqtaruk smellscape, we have to say that lack of smell can be pretty special, too. It has been a while since our clothes have been through a proper washing machine, and though we try our best, it is pretty difficult to get our clothes properly clean using limited washing water in a bucket. Thanks to the sauna and a few brave jumps in the ocean, though, we are happy to report that occasionally, we take a deep breath, and smell pretty much nothing except for the fresh Arctic air.

By Gergana

Imagine you are here with us during our field season on Qikiqtaruk – tundra stretching far into the distance, cottongrass seeds blowing in the wind and shiny green leaves of Arctic willows all around you.

Close your eyes and listen – we have already shared our impressions of the Qikiqtaruk soundscape – the bird songs, the gentle breeze and ferocious winds, the hum of the bumblebees and the calming quiet. But time has passed, and we are now approaching the height of the summer season. The landscape has changed, and so has the soundscape. There are still the ubiquitous calls of waders and the occasional moments of silence, but today things are a bit noisier – so let’s revisit the soundscapes of Qikiqtaruk.

·       Radio chatter. The Qikiqtaruk radio channel, channel 69 – the pleasure craft channel – is the main way of communication between the rangers, researchers and visitors here on the island and beyond. We can even communicate with folks at Shingle Point over 50 km away and any passing boat traffic. It can sometimes get a bit lonely while you’re out in the tundra, so it’s nice to overhear talk on the radio, be it conversations about the weather (“Do you see whitecaps at Qikiqtaruk?”, “Yes.”, “Are there whitecaps at Shingle?”, “Yep, there are whitecaps here too”), the stats relayed usually refer to how many char have been caught that day, and daily check-ins to make sure all is well. A new radio channel has been added to our usual playlist, number 72, leading us to the next unexpected element of today’s soundscape.

·       Construction noises! An old caisson – a large concrete submerged artificial island –  near the shore is getting removed nearly 40 years after it was last used during the oil extraction period in the 1970s and after almost a decade of planning. The other day the peace and quiet of our Arctic summer home was overcome by the sounds of an industrial site setting up next door. The usually unoccupied waters around Qikiqtaruk are now home to four big ships, two barges and several smaller vessels that seem to be working away both day and night. It’s a peculiar mix to have first the bird cranes singing, then the construction cranes adding in less poetic notes to our Arctic soundscape!

·       Speaking of noises from industry, we have our own man-made noises to contribute! Every evening into the small hours of the morning and every morning until we are ready to head to the field we now add the purr of our little Honda generator into the soundscape mix.  We have moved house from Signals House to the Trappers cabin that doesn’t have solar panels so we are now more reliant on a more ancient sunshine to charge drone batteries, computers and equipment. There is nothing like the peaceful sound of a generator to lull you to sleep in the evening when you are out in a remote Arctic field site.

·       For several weeks now the sound that accompanies you on less-than-super-windy day – particularly on the hottest day of the year – is the whine of mosquitos.  Now that we are approaching peak biomass and summer is in full swing it can actually be pretty hot out, and the tundra can feel more like the tropics.  And with the warmth come hundreds of mosquitos that have no respect for your personal space. Is it the incessant whine of the cloud of mosquitos in your ears, the fear of hives developing after countless mosquito bites or the thought of perhaps loosing your mind all together out on the tundra that makes this particular sound so hard to handle?  There is a reason we wrote a death metal song with the chorus “Mosquitos die, die, die” last year.

·       “Telemetry lost, telemetry recovered”, “Bad HRS”, “Compass error”, “Bad EKF” – have you ever listened to a radio show for so long that you feel like you know the hosts? Well, we have similar feelings towards the person providing the voice over for the software we are using to plan our drone flights – Mission Planner. Though the software sometimes delivers bad news, it is nice to have that sense of familiarity with the beeps and constant (but not always helpful) updates. There is a lot of uncertainty in Arctic fieldwork and there is little we can predict in advance, but it’s good to know that whatever happens, the Mission Planner lady will be there to tell you about the state of the telemetry. But if only she could tell you not only what is “bad”, but how to fix it.

We are well over halfway through the field season, and the Arctic soundscapes of Qikiqtaruk continues to surprise us.  All senses are engaged when you are out here on the island – what will tomorrow look like, sound like, even smell like?  We have been here for over a month now without a real shower, perhaps we can write a post about the smellscapes of Qikiqtaruk next!

By Gergana & Isla

Imagine yourself alone in the tundra.

But imagine it isn’t quite as cold as you might think.

The sweat is dripping down your back, the whine of mosquitos is incessant in your ears.  As you gasp for air while climbing the hill with your heavy backpack on, you just suck in the mosquito netting wrapped around your head.  DEET coats your skin with a shiny plastic-dissolving sheen as polymer bonds around you are destabilized and carcinogens seep into you through your skin.  This is the hottest day of the year on Qikiqtaruk.

Tough decisions have to be made on days like this – none more so that the perfect balance between having enough layers to avoid mosquito bites, but not so many as to boil in the humid Arctic heat. There came a point when the heat brought us to a naïve sense of bravery – the layers of clothing were coming off! Out of the frying pan, so to speak, and into the fire of mosquito bites and the eternal itching.

Flying drones in such hot weather brings its own challenges, too – we have to protect our reflectance panels from mosquitos (squished or alive), and avoid exposing too much skin when piloting during take-off, landing and general drone prep. If even the tip of your nose is exposed it will get bitten, and that can break your much need concentration.

To help us through the heat, we turned to a spin-off version of a popular Arctic fieldwork game. Usually one would play “warm thoughts”, where we all take turns trying to imagine the warmest of scenarios to help us battle the cold.  On the hottest day of the year warm thoughts were in no shortage, so “cold thoughts” it was! From turquoise mountain creeks in New Zealand, sea breezes back at Pauline Cove and several flavours of ice cream, our imagination took us on a refreshingly cold journey and soon enough we were back to camp where we could cool down for real thanks to a quick dip in the Arctic Ocean.

Some say they’re God’s greatest creation

Some say they inspired a nation

But I say…. “DIE! DIE! DIE!”

On the following day, we were well prepared, for the instead of losing layers we had to start putting on more and more clothing: the skies were darkening, the wind was picking up, and a menacing sheet of dense fog was moving towards us. A storm was on the way!

After getting all set up and ready to fly, the weather grounded our drone flights – no data drone collection, sigh! So, we turned to collecting the precise locations of our ground control markers and deploying our new large and multispectral-approved markers we had made in Inuvik earlier on. As the dark clouds approached, we put on full waterproof clothing in anticipation of the rain, and went on what felt like a pretty epic journey from marker to marker. We could hear thunder in the distance and soon enough heavy raindrops were splashing off the screen of the GNSS equipment. What were once little creeks of sediment water making their way from the slump to the ocean now looked like quick streams gaining more and more power as the storm intensified.

It was a pretty “majestical” scene (as they say in the New Zealand movie “Hunt for the Wilderpeople” – guess what we watched later that night…) to be GNSSing during an oncoming storm, made all the more atmospheric by our songs about rain and thunder. Soon enough though the storm was becoming too strong, so we headed back to shore by doing what felt more like mud skiing than walking in the quickly liquefying slump floor. Thanks to the research crew from the Alfred Wegener Institute, we got a ride back to camp in their trusty Zodiac boat Christine past the new barges and boats camped next to Pauline Cove.

Once at camp, we got out of our muddy boots, dried our wet clothes, warmed ourselves up with tea and a fire in the wood stove and enjoyed a movie night. Outside, the rain continues to pour and the wind continues to howl – hard to imagine that less than a day earlier we were totally overwhelmed by the Arctic heat!

By Gergana and Isla

Today’s post is supposed to be about using drones to detect changes in phenology. However, when you’re trying to communicate with remote Arctic islands, things don’t always go to plan.

For those excited about drones, don’t worry. That post will be here soon.

For everyone else, we’re keeping up the phenology theme with TWO fantastic new videos that made it off on the latest plane flight!

We have been using phenocams (time-lapse cameras) to track the changing of the seasons at both our sites. Yesterday Izzy wrote about setting up the cameras at our southern site, but today we are focusing on the North, hopping up the length of the UK to Qikiqtaruk – Herschel Island.

Nestled amongst the shrubs, we have phenocams tracking when the willows come to life, capturing the burst of tundra green spectacularly.

Out on the hilltops the snow melts away and the flowers fight for the midnight sun. And, true to form, things don’t go fully to plan as a musk-ox tries to muscle in on the action.

By Haydn