Krulls Research

I was an undergraduate at UTPA back in the early ‘90’s. I had over forty credit hours in geology, when the bottom fell out of the program, and I had to transfer to the Biology department to pursue a major in critter counting. During that time, I worked as a diver on an NSF grant, monitoring seagrasses in the lower Laguna Madre.

Joe and Krull were two graduates working on the same grant during that time. Both were public school teachers, working on their masters degrees. Since I was the only certified SCUBA diver, I did most of the sub aquatic work, taking core samples and setting quadrats, spending long hours on the bottom of the bay in the verdant seagrass meadows. Joe and Krull would occasionally do their own underwater work as well, holding their breaths, which is a hard way to do things. Part of their plan was to evaluate seagrass growth and population statistics by coring random areas with a homemade 6” PVC core tool, sharpened on one end, and driven by a small sledge hammer into the substrate. They’d then pull the plug out, and bag the seagrass and mud core, to be counted and chemically analyzed back at the lab. The 6” PVC tool was a bitch to pull out, especially in hard substrate, like shell and sand.

Joe and Krull were opposite personalities. Joe was a dedicated scientist, sometimes almost too much so, but certainly balanced and affable. Prone to seasickness, even in the placid bay, once he and I were out on a collecting trip during a norther, when the swell was running about two or three feet, collecting his samples. Joe would normally insist on doing much of his own work; legitimacy and integrity throughout his project held a great importance to him. Later, he gained a certification in SCUBA which made things a lot easier for him, but on this particular trip he was free diving, coming up again and again for air, swallowing great amounts of seawater in the process. After he finished his work, he crawled aboard, and while marking his samples suddenly remarked “I’M GONNA LOSE IT!” leaning over the side to bilge great amounts of seawater and breakfast at Teds in a chum slick that stretched far aft of the little Dargel scooter in the chocolate turbulent bay waters. After we got to shore and loaded the boat, we went to lunch at Blackbeards as if nothing had happened out there. My admiration for Joe that day was manifold.

Krull, on the other hand was an ill tempered prima-donna, given to temper tantrums and fits of derision to those he considered “inferior”. Krull had a penchant for fabricating things, especially the statistics and results from his own “research”. Krull decided that the 6” core tool was insufficient for his “research”, and instead fabricated one out of 24” PVC. I snickered when he brought the goddamn thing onboard, determined to use it in his “research”. So one day we were out there just west of the island in a thick Thalassia bed and Krull goes down with that big-ass core tool, with a big-ass sledge hammer and proceeds to drive the bastard about a foot into the mud. He huffs, and he puffs and strains like shit to try and get it to come loose, with no luck. After about 45 minutes with still no luck, I decided to attach the bow line to it and drag the fucker loose. A bit of reverse throttle from the big 90 horse, and the thing popped out of the substrate with a massive swirl of mud, and Krull hauled it aboard. Now he had to get that huge plug of mud out and into a waiting garbage sack so that he could haul it back to the main campus for his “research”. No dice. Even though he had engineered a plug into the top of the core tool to release any vacuum that might be trapped, the plug wouldn’t come out. I sat on the stern of the scooter, trying not to laugh as he got frustrated, taking a big flat screwdriver and attempting to dig the core out of that big-ass core tool. It came loose allright, falling apart in small shit chunks all over the deck, chunks of Thalassia and gooey mud making the core totally useless. By this time Krull was gnashing his teeth, moaning and shaking in anguish. In a fit of rage, he picked up the tool and heaved it aft, where it whizzed by my ear striking a red metal fuel can on deck, putting a sizable dent in it before spinning to rest near the rail. We sat there in stunned silence, not speaking, even on the return trip, embarrassed and wordless after Krulls infantile outburst.

After that, Krull went back to using a 6” core tool, collecting samples to take back to the main campus to sit in the refrigerator for weeks on end until he had time to do his “research”. I was doing TA work in the biology department at the time, and that refrigerator was in my office. My friend, littleman, who had the displeasure of being abused by Krull, would in retribution, periodically take out the sample bags and urinate in them.

Joe got his masters degree, and has since contributed greatly to the aquatic understanding of the Lower Laguna Madre. I often see him both professionally, and as a friend. He continues his serious, but childlike fascination of this area.

Krull eventually completed his research, after handling many core bags, laboriously analyzing the chemistry, which were never over standard seawater parameters. Krull never completed his masters degree requirements. Occasionally, when I’m in need a laugh, I’ll go into TCA’s old office at the CSL and look up over the cabinets at the big-ass core tool and remember Krulls “research”.