Andros Island, Sept. 1 — It’s time to suit up, buckle down and get busy. Project leader Dan Brumbaugh sprints toward a coral area to collect his specialty, bryozoans. Gordon Hendler, an echinoderm expert who arrived a few days ago, follows. I barely manage to keep up.

Their mission today is to gather a sampling of creatures to study in the makeshift lab at the Forfar Field Station.

"I’m looking for anything I can find," Gordon says. "I’m trying to figure out what is here, where things live."

In minutes, we arrive at a prime collecting spot: a coral garden that slopes gently to a white-sand floor. About 50 feet down, Dan lifts anything loose on the reef, then chips at the base of soft coral, looking at the bottoms. His hand flashes out, catching an elegant and agile brittle star. He deposits it in the plastic collecting container he carries.

Brittle stars are a type of echinoderm — spiny-skinned animals in the same family as sea urchins. They seem rare because they hide from light under coral and in sponges, but there are about 2,000 known species ranging in size from less than an inch to 3 feet across. Most species have five thin, spiny arms radiating from a central disk that the stars use to wrap around sponges and press against the shadowy walls of coral.

Gordon has told me where to look for the creatures. I float head-down over a tube sponge, a likely hiding place. Sure enough, the surface and the inside are coated with delicate, reddish-purple brittle stars. I tickle the spines at the end of one arm and coax the star to the mouth of the sponge. Finally, I get the shy animal off the sponge tip and into my hand. Proudly, I deliver the prize to Gordon who stashes it in his collecting container.

Meanwhile, Dan is hanging on to a dead coral head while he looks under a plate coral with a flashlight. He reminds me of a dentist peering into a patient’s mouth. He chips at the coral with a pointed geological hammer, turning pieces over to examine them for bryozoan colonies. Whereas coral colonies are made up of polyps, bryozoan colonies are made up of zooids — minute animals that measure less than one-sixteenth of an inch. Collectively, they form a single genetic individual that keeps adding zooids as it grows, Dan explains.

A bryozoan colony can stretch more than 5 inches across. Dan compares them to Swiss Army knives.

"Every part is part of the whole, but specialized," he explains. "Some parts are responsible for defense of the colony; some for reproduction; some for food gathering."

The sound of underwater chipping takes a little getting used to. I’ve been taught to be careful not to kick the reef with my flippers and never to touch the coral. Never touch anything was the message. These biologists are getting physical with the reef, gripping and hammering it. I realize it's the only way for them to get live samples of their creatures, but the contrast between these scientists at work and recreational scuba divers like me seems stark.

Gordon explains that despite appearances, much of what they’re hammering is dead coral. Dan says he’s constantly making decisions about whether or not to take a bryozoan colony with him, depending on how many samples he needs and how much damage might be caused by collecting it. He also takes care not to put his hands on live coral and chips off live parts of the reef only when absolutely necessary.

"I’m very careful," he says. "I try to put the uncollected coral back where it came from and hope it will grow back."

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