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Minoli Dias’s interest in sea ice began in an unlikely place: polar bear poop. 

She was studying microplastics in polar bear feces and intestinal tracts as part of a research project during her undergraduate years at Queen’s University.

“It was a smelly job, but it was really interesting,” says Dias, who is now a PhD student in the department of Earth sciences at ��˾��ֱ�� Mississauga.

Her early work revealed some troubling trends: for instance, declining sea ice levels meant that certain species of polar bears were being driven inland – with garbage and landfills increasingly serving as their food sources. At the same time, members of northern communities, particularly the Inuit, had noted in their own experiences, observations and research that declining sea ice levels had impacted access to essential needs – such as transportation, food security through hunting, and other culturally important activities. 

It wasn't long before Dias decided she wanted to pursue sea ice research – and ultimately chose to study at ��˾��ֱ�� Mississauga after speaking with Jochen Halfar, a paleoclimate and paleontology professor and researcher in ��˾��ֱ�� Mississauga’s Climate Geology Research Group. “UTM gave him a wonderful lab, and we have incredible facilities. But his research and his passion for the work was what really drew me,” she says.  

Now part of Halfar’s research group studying changes in sea ice cover in northern Labrador, Dias and her co-researchers are developing sea-ice cover records for the past 1,000 years off the coast of Nunatsiavut and are examining coralline algae as part of their research.  

Dias says that coralline algae live for approximately 1,500 years and they grow in annual layers (like tree rings). The growth, she explains, is dependent on light. When the algae have more light, meaning there’s less sea ice in the water, they grow a lot thicker. When they have less light, meaning there’s more sea ice cover, the layers grow thinner. By examining these variations and growth over time along with chemical tracers, the research team can essentially watch the sea ice cover change. 

Dias conducted field work in the community of Agvituk (Hopedale), N.L. this past summer. The lab also explored multiple sites in Greenland, Norway, Nunavut and the Labrador coast.  

“If we can create a network of these types of ocean reconstructions, we’ll be able to have this baseline data going back several centuries that can then hopefully inform model projections that predict what future conditions will look like,” she says. 

Since joining the lab, Dias says she has had some incredible experiences – including a recent opportunity to work with members of the Hopedale community. 

“We’re not the experts. We don’t live there. It’s the people who live along the coast – and actually live the change and see the change – who are the experts,” she says. “When you speak to community members, they have a clear understanding of how changes occurred over time, and what is the importance of sea ice to these ecosystems.” 

Once she completes her PhD, Dias hopes to continue pursuing climate research by either working directly with impacted communities or working to address the effects of pollution or climate change. 

Dias says she feels inspired by the many women scientists who came before her, including her female professors who have served as role models in what traditionally has been a male-dominated field.   

“They paved the way for us to be able to do the work that we do, and to do it in relative comfort,” she says. “Having these women to look up to is what makes it possible for me to do the type of work that I do, and I hope I can make a similar contribution and pay it forward to the women that are coming after me.”