On Cartoons and Carnivores

Three Blue Chromis on sentry duty at the North Reef.


A close-up shot of the denizens of a buoy chain at Lover's Reef. I took this at one of the CAOS underwater photography programs during one of the few times I did not have a small child hanging off me in some way (on programs I usually end up snorkeling while holding kids' hands to keep them from panicking). These guys are encrusting fire coral, which is known for its occasionally painful sting. The hairs that you can see sticking out are actually the coral polyps themselves. Most types of coral have flatter, fleshier polyps (polyps are the little buds that look like miniature sea anemones that cover a coral structure), but fire corals and other hydrocorals have much thinner polyps with a lot more bite to them.


Q: Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?
One of the job hazards when working with kids is resorting to using cartoon characters to do the teaching for you. Few kids know what a sea anemone is, but if you say something like, "Hey kids, have you seen Finding Nemo? You know that thing Nemo and his dad live in? That's a sea anemone - and there's one over here! Come have a look!" Now I have few qualms about using analogies from Finding Nemo, since Pixar really did their homework when they designed the look of the fish on the reefs. There is one other fairly well-known cartoon that takes place underwater, though: Spongebob Squarepants. About once a week I get a kid in one of my groups asking where Spongebob is. The thing is, most of those kids think sea sponges are really called Spongebobs (they aren't), leading to a lengthy explanation on how one should not rely on Nickelodeon cartoons for all of one's biological education. Anyway, the above picture is of Yellow Tube Sponges. This pair is about 5 inches tall, but they can get as tall as 4 feet. I found them in very shallow water (about 6 feet) on the way back from Lover's Reef, so they probably won't reach their full height.


Another one of the notoriously friendly Bermuda Chubs. A couple days ago I went exploring on a reef in front of Port Royale and sure enough, as soon as I got there I was greeted and immediately surrounded by about 15 Bermuda Chubs. It was cute for a minute or two, but I was on a picture-taking mission since it was the first sunny, clear day in about a week. Every time I wanted to dive, I would have to wait for a break in the swarm, dive, and then quickly take a picture before the flock noticed I had moved and descended to check on my progress. While circling me they would constantly swim in front of my camera lens at the most inopportune times, so I now have a lot of pictures of fish mouths and tails. This proceeded for about 20 minutes, alternating between me flooding my mask because I was laughing so hard (snorkel masks leak when you smile) and me yelling at the fish through my snorkel. After the aforementioned 20 minutes, though, it seems the chubs had grown weary with my continued presence and continued lack of handouts (the chubs around here are friendly because some people feed them). One fish decided to express its frustration by biting me on the back. It didn't really hurt - just felt like a firm pinch and didn't even come close to breaking the skin - but it did startle me. I took the hint and moved on to another reef closer to shore. So that's the first time a fish has actually gotten me. One point to them. It should be mentioned, though, that the tuna sandwich I had when I got back tasted that much better.

On Big Waves and Small Fry

Not too much to report here. The weather's been a little rough, so I've been spending far more time on the CAOS rock wall than in the water. (It's also been rather cold here - highs in the low 70s - so my one pair of jeans and I have been making very good friends.) Sunday night I led a program wherein we use a dissecting microscope (the non-slide kind) hooked up to a TV to look at various things we find on the sand and in the reef. In order to have samples, though, one of the two guides has to get in the water and retrieve bits of algae and plankton from the bottom using jars and nets. Since I was the only one who had been trained to lead the program, that duty fell on me. So our troupe of three kids and two guides reaches the beach and... the waves are well overhead (probably a good 6-7 feet for the larger ones, 4-5 feet on average). Awesome. So I start heading out into the waves, duck diving under them whenever necessary, and make my way past the surf zone. Once I'm out there, though, I realize the visibility is at about 1-2 feet because the waves have been kicking up so much sand and debris. Remember, this is nighttime, and a dive light only does so much. I try diving to the bottom to grab stuff, but it's kind of scary diving without knowing where the bottom is, or even what's under you. Also, whenever I would dive down, a wave passing overhead would suck me back toward the surface. As someone well versed in the art of cutting and running, I made a strategic withdrawal and returned to shore with surprisingly little trouble, but nothing to show for my efforts. The kids just had to get by with algae that had washed up on shore. And speaking of the kids, when the other guide told them to cheer me on, their idea of encouragement was to scream "YOU'RE GONNA DIE!" in unison. Oh kids these days! So adorable! In all, I spent only about 10 minutes in the water, so it wasn't like it was a super-huge waste of time. To be honest, it was actually kind of fun. A little stupid, yes, but definitely fun.

Since the water's so cloudy these days, I only have some holdovers from past snorkeling expeditions to share.


This is a perturbed Peacock Flounder. Flounders are known for their ability to change their colors to blend into whatever background they're on, so this guy was actually fairly hard to spot originally. After we chased it around a little, though, he flashed his "cease and desist" coloration pictured here. Like so many animals, he's not one for subtlety when thoroughly peeved.


Would you like fries with that? Each of these little dudes is about one inch long, making these tasty morsels very young. Ahh, springtime on the reef! I've actually been noticing a lot more larval fish on night snorkels as well, so it's definitely that time of year. I've only managed to witness one pair of fish in the act of spawning, so I guess everyone else is being modest.


Trying to be artsy with a post-snorkeling brew in Jamestown.

On Big Pictures and Finer Details

As many of you probably know, the CAOS program for which I work was founded by a Famous Oceanographer, son of an Even More Famous Oceanographer. Well, this past week Famous Oceanographer's right hand man, Raab, was on the island to see how the program is running, and to give us critiques and teach us a little more about the program's philosophy and how best to teach our guests, young and old. Raab has been with the Oceanographers' family for over 40 years, so he was full of all sorts of interesting stories about working with them and traveling the world. He is also quite possibly one of the most inspiring people to listen to. On one of our last days with him, we all sat down with him and talked about the program, its origins, and most importantly its future. By the time we were done, a very short four hours later, we all wanted to jump up and save the world, one child at a time.

His approach to teaching the general public about the environment was also very cool to see in action. Because many of the guests that come through our programs have not been exposed to much of the harder sciences and frankly are not all that interested in a bunch of tree-huggers preaching at them, we opt for a much softer, more subtle approach. People remember things better if they can connect them to something they know, such as life back home, so we try to relate everything in this alien coral reef back to the known world. Raab showed us techniques to make this more effective and gave us interesting insight into the big-picture role of environmental education. It was really quite refreshing and encouraging to hear what he had to say, and I think it cemented even more in my mind the idea that this is what I want to be doing. Not that I had too many doubts.


This picture is from last week's jellyfishing excursion. I like it mostly because of the lighting, but the coral's pretty cool too.


Another type of comb jelly from last week's snorkel. Note that the jelly's transparency allows you to see right into its gut, so you can see the plankton it's been munching on.


From the same trip as the previous two pictures, this photo shows the top side of a Yellow Tail Damselfish. These fish start their lives a brilliant blue color with iridescent blue spots across its back and sides. As they grow and mature, their body turns brown, the tail turns yellow, and their iridescent spots gradually disappear. What I like best about this picture, though, is the pattern you can see in its fins - until I looked closely at the photo, I didn't even realize it existed. And that's really the story of the ocean: you don't realize how much is truly there until you start paying attention to the details.

Just Another Daily Update...

Dear Internet,

Umm, hey there. It's been a while, hasn't it. Don't worry, I didn't forget about you... it's just that things came up - you know how it goes. Anyway, plenty has happened in the past few weeks. I've been working, snorkeling (both at work and on days off, especially now that my friends have all purchased their own gear as well), and generally enjoying island life.

Work is going well, though some of my friends insist that my pronunciation of the word "work" should be accompanied by a set of finger quotes (that annoying bit of pseudo-sign language), but I'm chalking it up to jealousy rather than deafness. Somehow I have become the guru of all things planktonic at CAOS, as I have been slowly changing and adapting a few of the programs to be a little more catch-and-release and much more big-picture as far as the oceanic food chain goes. I have brought the Moorea light traps back into play, so now whenever I lead the week's night snorkel excursion, there's a little light trapping on the side to catch plankton. It works well for a few reasons, not least of which is the fact that it makes me look really really smart. The funniest part about all of this, though? At UCLA I hated studying plankton. Loathed it, really. My least favorite class of all four years was the one I took on phytoplankton, and yet here I am. Planktonic Purgatory.

A few friends and I had the day off today and went for a snorkel. I have been to this particular site on many occasions while guiding the Winchester-Swann's snorkel trips, so I know the reef there fairly well. When we showed up, however, there were a few new additions to the regular wildlife:


Jellies! When one thinks of a jellyfish, one typically envisions something like this - a distinct bell with tentacles trailing behind it. This individual, however, was one of only two "traditional" jellies that I saw today. To be honest, I have no idea what kind of jelly this particular species is (scyphozoans aren't really my thing), but it's an interesting contrast to the other types of jellies we swam through on our snorkel.


The majority of our excursion consisted of us swimming through an unbelievably large smack of comb jellies. Yup. Jellies come in smacks. I fully expect you all to put that tidbit to good use (remember, I am trying to be vaguely educational here). Anyway, there were thousands and thousands of these comb jellies in the water today. In all of the snorkeling I have done, both here on the island as well as abroad, I have never seen so many jellyfish or so many different types of jellyfish. I tried to take pictures of as many as I could, but it's surprisingly hard to take pictures of small transparent animals floating through the water column. Go figure. Anyway, these comb jellies are so named for the rows of cilia, or tiny hairs, running along the length of their bodies. The cilia are used for propulsion, as well as to help cycle water through the tentacles in its center. Technically these guys have stinging cells in their guts, but they aren't nearly strong enough to penetrate human skin.

That is not to say that we didn't get stung. Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while may remember the Great Siphonophore Swim of '06 (otherwise christened "The Snorkel of Stings"). Well... they're baaaaack! I had gotten stung a couple of times on a tour at work yesterday, but thought nothing of it. I definitely thought something of it today! The stinging was pretty much nonstop for the 90 minutes we were in the water. After a while I simply tuned it out and ignored that certain prickly sensation, but those little buggers certainly can pack a punch.



After snorkeling, my buddies and I sat around talking at a nearby restaurant for a few hours until the sun finally went down. Pretty typical for a day off around here. One could certainly do worse.