Day in the life of an ichthyology student

5 min read

Rebecca Bentley offers up a first-hand account of what goes on in the fishy bowels of the ichthyology world.

REBECCA BENTLEY Cafish enthusiast Rebecca is firmly on her way to an ichthyology career.

CT scans show us fish beneath the surface.
ALL IMAGES: REBECCA BENTLEY

STUDYING FOR A PhD (also known as a doctorate degree) is a little niche. It’s a research qualification where for 3-4 years the student studies one particular topic. In the UK this qualification doesn’t include exams, but at the end of it the student is expected to produce a long and comprehensive thesis and be grilled on their methods, results and knowledge of the topic.

I should probably make it clear exactly what I am and what I study. Ichthyology is a branch of zoology that deals with fishes, and my specialism within that branch is in the evolution of Loricariid catfishes—or plecos to the everyday aquarist. Specifically, I focus on the morphology and anatomy, and how this relates to the fishes diet. Such study involves a variety of techniques, my favourite being computerised tomography (CT) scanning.

CT scanning involves taking thousands of X-rays of a subject, which are then placed on top of each other to build a complete 3D image of it. By doing this with the bodies of fish, I can see the skeletons without the need for dissection, which is important because I am mostly using historically and scientifically important specimens from the Natural History Museum (although I also add a few of my own).

In the future I also hope to study the feeding behaviour of Loricariids, as well as use the latest molecular technology to identify the genes involved in their unique head anatomies. If it all sounds a little complex don’t worry—I just say I study catfish!

The nature of the work means that I tend to handle more preserved specimens than live ones, and have done throughout most of my academic career. It’s particularly interesting as many of the species I have handled are not found in the aquarium trade. In the case of Rhizosomichthys totae, for example, the species is only represented by a meagre nine specimens, so it’s something of an honour to have handled one of the nicest ones. Unlike working with live fishes, handling preserved specimens requires so much less paperwork, and there are no worries regarding them being held out of water for long—or in the case of preserved fishes, out of alcohol.

These techniques have much in common with the work that palaeontologists do; it’s