ATTACK OF THE KILLER SPONGE

It's been a while since I've introduced a crazy-sea-creature...OK, it's been a while since I posted at all, but lets get back to our watery-roots. Today, I'd like to take you down the eddy to a seafloor nightmare: Sponge Bob's evil twin (dun, dun, dun!)



Sponge Bob's Evil Twin?

 ...the Harp Sponge.

The harp sponge (Chondrocladia lyra) is a species of carnivorous deep-sea sponge. Yes, you read that right. Carniverous. Predators.

They don't eat in the typical way of sponges that sweep water into their pores and filter out microscopic bacteria and bits of organic matter for dinner. This sponge is a hunter: it traps larger marine life like copepods and other crustaceans with Velcro-like hooks.

The harp sponge was discovered by Monterey BayAquarium Research Institute off the coast of California. As you can see in this picture, it gets its name (both common, Harp Sponge, and Latin species name, lyra from it's branching arms, or vanes, with vertical limbs that look like the strings of a harp or lyre.

A deep sea Harp Sponge. Photo from MBARI

Don't let the delicate beauty of this bad-boy-Sponge-Bob fool you. Those branching limbs are covered with barbed hooks that trap their prey. Then, the sponge encapsulates them in a digestive membrane, dissolving them into a fish-smoothie that it can absorb through its pores. Yummmm.

Here's another look.

 Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the ocean...


 

Oh, Christmas Tree Worm, Oh, Christmas Tree Worm...

In honor of the season, today I present you with the beautiful, captivating Christmas Tree worm, Spirobranchus giganteus.

The colorful set of trees in this picture actually belong to a single, lowly worm. Yes, believe it: It's a worm. This diminutive annelid (same phylum as earthworms) is a marine organisms and those swirling "branches" or radioles are the paired tentacles it uses for capturing food from the water. The spiral "trees" also helps with gas exchange.

As divers and snorkerlers will tell you, when disturbed, these whorls instantly retract and the worm pulls its door-like operculum closed behind it. Here's a Youtube video of some Christmas tree worms retracting.

Christmas tree worms take their common name from their appearance, of course. Their scientific classification tells us lots more about these animals. As annelids, they have segmented bodies. Segmentation was an important evolutionary step that allowed greater diversity in organisms' body plans. Digestive tracts could differentiate into separate parts, each with its own role: mouth and esophagus to bring food in and move it through the passage, crops, gizzards, and stomachs to store, grind and process food, intestines to absorb nutrients and water. Segmentation also lets organisms develop differentiated limbs. We see segmentation in humans through our vertebrae. Turns out, all organisms that exhibit segmentation share a similar gene, the Homeobox, or Hox gene, which serves as a molecular architect and directs the building of bodies according to definite detailed plans.

Our annelid, the Christmas Tree worm, belongs to the class of marine worms called polychaetes (along with fireworms), subclass sedentaria (along with feather duster worms, because they once the larvae settle, they secrete a parchment-like calcareous tube and then never move from that location), family serpulidae (this means creeping and probably refers to the larval stage. When ready to settle down, the larva creeps around a potential home in search of a good place to dig in.)

Spirobranchus come in a variety of bright colors, each worm with two "trees" poking out from its tube. Most often, they burrow into living coral, although sometimes they'll live in a rock or sponge, and secrete their tube.

S. giganteus possesses a complete digestive system and has a well-developed closed circulatory system. Like other annelids, they possess well-developed nervous systems with a central brain. They have fully developed nephridia simple kidneys) used for excretion. When they reproduce, they simply shed their gametes (eggs and spermatozoa) straight into the water and leave fertilization to chance and cooperative currents.

Christmas tree worms eat by capturing food from the plankton. "Capturing" sounds a bit more active than it really is. When currents carry tiny plants and animals floating in the water into the radiole, the tentacles direct that particle to the worms mouth. They don't really hunt anything down. Filter feeders wait for the food to come to them. They have few, if any, natural predators and no commercial value aside from as fascinating aquarium animals so they aren't endangered or threatened in and of themselves. With loss of their preferred habitat--coral reefs--their numbers could possibly decline, but for now, we get to easily and readily enjoy these colorful organisms while snorkeling and diving in tropical and subtropical waters worldwide.

Enjoy, and Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Happy Kwanzaa, Merry Solstice, and a happy 2013!

Happy Holidays everyone!

JAWS, or Handling the Fear in Open-water Swimming

I love open-water swimming. Lakes, rivers, the ocean, it's both exhilarating and calming. I'd be lying if I said it's not a little bit frightening, too. While I don't do as much open-water swimming as I used to, when I was swimming Brewers Bay, from the UVI dock to Black Point and back regularly, a swim didn't pass where I didn't start humming Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum-da-dum-da-dum somewhere out in the middle of the bay.

Thanks Jaws.

Original movie poster from Jaws (1975)

Here's a post from "The Swimming Blog" that appeared in The Guardian not too long ago that had me giggling and nodding my head in commiseration with the author, Jenny Landrith.
Open-water Swimming: How do you handle the fear?

Now, during my once a year open-water swim on the Cooper River, I tend to "get in the zone" or what I've referred to in a previous blog post as "swimmer's bliss" by counting strokes. I play games to make the 2.4 miles pass faster: "No peaking until I've swum 100 strokes." Or, "Count how many strokes to the next buoy" then compare that to the number of strokes to the one after that. Those distractions can keep me occupied for most of the swim, but still, at some point it happens.

Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum-da-dum-da-dum

I'm not certain if it's fear or habit anymore. Maybe it's even become my way to deal with fear: do something silly like sing the Jaws theme.

How do you deal with your fear of the unknown?

The Blobfish

Yesterday, The Ugly Animal Preservation Society voted the blob fish the ugliest animal in the world. In honor of the blobfish, I'm reposting this blog from a little over a year ago.

Today, the Smithsonian came up with a rebuttal, In Defense of the Blobfish. The article includes a picture of what the blobfish would look like if we saw it swimming, supported by the ocean's buoyancy. Be sure to take a look if you'd like to see the blobfish in its full and true glory!

From June 2012: My Tribute to the Blobfish

If you've seen "Men in Black 3" the animal in this picture should look familiar. It's a blobfish. Yes, there really is a fish that looks exactly like Jimmy Durante swimming around, or more accurately, floating around, in the ocean.

The blobfish only grows to about 12" in length. It lives 2,000-3,000 feet below the ocean surface in the waters south east of Australia. That's the same depth that fishermen have to go to catch lobster, crabs, and some of our other favorite seafood that we've fished out from shallower waters. The blobfish has no commercial value: it's inedible.

Blobby has no way to escape the fishing nets because, just like he(she?) looks, he's basically a glob of Jell-O. His body is buoyant and he floats in the water column at a depth of about 800m. He doesn't need muscles or oxygen to swim because he doesn't have to swim.

According to Dr. Callum Roberts, one of the world's most respected experts on marine conservation, the blobfish is in danger of becoming extinct because of overfishing: "The Australian and New Zealand deep trawling fishing fleets are some of the most active in the world so if you are a blobfish then it is not a good place to be."

It's sad that, to satisfy our demand for seafood, we're willing to eliminate animals that most people don't even know about. This isn't a case of "people are starving so we have to do this to feed them." These are high-end seafood products going to feed people who all ready have too much protein in their diets. It's even sadder to think, given the vast ocean, that we're unwilling to protect even small areas of it to ensure ocean resources are around for future generations.

Those grumbling loudest about "traditional values" might want to remember back to the day when saving was a prized value. People delayed gratification, foregoing something now for something better in the future. I hold little hope that the marine environment will improve in the future--not with a world population of 7 billion and growing--but maybe by saving some of it now, we can at least have something left for the future.

If you're worried about the blobfish, or any other animal we might be destroying with poor fishing practices, here are some things you can do:

• Before you order that lobster, crab, or other seafood item on the menu, find out where it's from. Only order, buy, eat sustainably harvested seafood. http://www.nrdc.org/oceans/seafoodguide/
• Eat lower on the food chain.
• Support the establishment and management of marine protected areas.
• Use birth control. (Seriously. Don't you think 7 billion people on the planet is a little ridiculous? You don't really need more than replacement children, i.e. 2 kids per couple?)

Sources:

Bathroom Reader Institute (2007). Uncle John's Under the Slimy Sea. Bathroom Readers' Press, Ashland, Oregon. 144 pp.

Hough, Andrew (2010). Blobfish: world's most 'miserable looking' marine animal facing extinction. The Telegraph. Available at: http://tinyurl.com/yju7o5b

Photo from The Telegraph.

A Herd of Turtles?

Most people are familiar with the nouns used to refer to collective groups of common terrestrial animals and birds: herd of cows, flock of birds, congress of baboons, litters of cats/kittens/puppies, to name a few. Everyone has also heard of schools of fish.

Here are a few more collective nouns to describe other marine and aquatic  animals (and no, it isn't a herd of turtles!):

A bale of turtles
A bed of clams or oysters
A gam, herd, school, or pod of whales
A herd or pod of seals (also a bob, colony, crash, harem, rookery, or spring of seals!)
A hover of trout
A knot of toads

A herd or pod of walruses
A pod or school of porpoises
A siege or shoal of herring
A shoal of bass (or of most fish species)
A smack of jellyfish

A pack of polar bears (sounds like the start of a tongue-twister, doesn't it?)
A seige or sedge of bitterns
A flight of cormorants
A glint of goldfish
A colony of gulls
A hedge, sedge, or seige of herons
A romp of otters (ottes also come in bevies, families, or rafts, but I like romp!)

A colony, cr`eche, huddle, parcel, or rookery of penguins
A congregation or wing of plovers
A run, school, or shoal of salmon
A shiver of shark

What's Up with Waterspouts?

What's up with waterspouts? Sometimes it's fish that go up with them, sometimes periwinkles, and sometimes just clay particles that mix with the condensed water in the funnel cloud and then fall as red water, also known as a "rain of blood." But more on that later...

First, let's take a closer look at this spectacular phenomenon.

Fair-weather waterspout

For as long as humans have observed and recorded events on and around large water bodies, the appearance of waterspouts has evoked superstition, fear, and even contributed to the romance of the sea. Sailors have attributed the phenomenon to sea dragons, sea serpents, and evil spirits. Arabian sailors believed them to be manifestations of Jinees--powerful spirits capable of assuming various forms.

The reality behind the myths and mysteries is twofold: some waterspouts are tornadic, formed from the same factors that result in terrestrial tornados, and others are fair-weather spouts.

Tornadic waterspouts drop down from thunderstorms, squall lines, or the leading edge of advancing cold fronts. Like the typical twisters seen in movies and on episodes of Storm Chasers, tornadic spouts have dark, sinister funnels spawned from large, turbulent "parent clouds."  These are seen most frequently at middle latitudes, off the lee shores of large landmasses where cold continental air sweeps over warmer water. Tornadic waterpouts are often bona fide land tornados that go to sea or cross large inland bodies of water. Tornadic spouts can form over water and come ashore as true tornados, and alike true tornados, they can abate and come back more than once.

Fair-weather waterspouts arise solely over water. They develop at sea level and climb skyward when humid, superheated air circulates convectionally with cooler overhead air. Fair-weather spouts tend to be smaller and of shorter duration than the tornadic variety and are considered relatively harmless. These prevail in equatorial regions, although they do occur in all latitudes during the transition seasons of spring and fall.

In the northern hemisphere, tornadic waterspouts rotate cyclonically (counter clockwise) with wind speeds of up to 130 mph. They can be quite long-lived, lasting on average 15-30-minutes. Their advancing speeds tend to be rather slow (less than 5 mph). Conversely, fair-weather spouts travel faster over a given distance, moving at speeds up to 30 mph, but their rotative speed is much lower. They also dissipate quite quickly, rarely lasting as long as 20-minutes. Fair-weather spouts may rotate in either direction, depending on the nature of the convection currents that form them.

Both types of waterspouts are quasi-seasonal at best. They're seen more frequently in temperate latitudes between May and October, and more in the deep tropics from October through March. Exceptions abound throughout the year in any locale.

String of waterspouts forming over Charlotte Amalie Harbor,
St. Thomas, USVI (2007).

Tornadic waterspouts are more dangerous and destructive since they form from storm clouds. The same dangerous conditions found with severe thunderstorms---strong winds, large seas, hail, and lightening--are commonly found around tornadic spouts. While tornadic spouts are the more dangerous of the two types of spouts, care should be taken when encountering either one of these natural phenomena.

Cool Waterspout Facts

• The Great Waterspout of 1896 formed off Martha's Vineyard on August 19th of that year. Photographs and first-hand accounts from veteran mariners verified the spout was 144 feet thick and 3600 feet high. The spout formed not once, but three times within 45 minutes.

The Great Waterspout of 1896. (Photo from NOAA Image Library.)

• A Tampa, Florida waterspout (June 13, 1952) caused over $75,000 in property damage when it came ashore with 100 mph winds. 

• On September 5, 1935, a tornado/waterspout formed near Norfolk, Virginia and rampaged across Tidewater and Hampton Roads, where it flung railroad cars off their tracks before moving out to sea over the Chesapeake Bay.     

• Waterspouts can form over freshwater in rivers and lakes, as well as saltwater bodies. Several have formed on the Hudson River over the last 100 years.

• The longest recorded waterspout occurred off Eden, Australia on May 16, 1898. Theodolite measurements verified its height at 5,014 feet (although it was only 10' in diameter).

• The widest waterspout on record was 700' wide, formed at Blunt's Reef, California on November 14, 1914.

• Waterspouts have resulted in "rains" of fish, frogs, lizards, tadpoles, and periwinkles, most likely due to waterspouts coming ashore over low-lying marshlands and swamps.

• Some waterspouts have resulted in a "rain of blood" when the spout churns up a nearby stretch of red mud or clay, mixing the particles with the spouts condensed water droplets that fall when the spout dissipates.

 Sources

All At Sea. http://www.allatsea.net/caribbean/water-spout-are-they-dangerous/

Hendrickson, Robert. 1984. The Ocean Almanac. Doubleday Press. 446 pp.

National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. www.noaa.gov

Mystery of the Fish Eye

If you're on Facebook you probably saw the picture of the giant bloody eyeball that washed up on a Florida beach a few weeks ago. Speculation on the source of the softball-sized eye ranged from the reasonable (giant squid or whale) to the unlikely (Big Foot).

Photo by Carli Segelson, Florida Fish and
Wildlife Conservation Commission

Based on the eye's color, size and structure, along with the presence of bone around it, scientists concluded the eye came from a swordfish. They also observed straight cuts around the perimeter, suggesting the eye had not been ripped out in some deepsea wrestling match but removed with a knife. Most likely, the eye was cut out and discarded by a fisherman. Was it a fisherman with a keen sense of humor who thought "won't this freak someone out?" as he tossed it overboard? We may never know.

Giant squid attacking a bait squid.
Photo from National Geographic.

Most people don't realize how big a swordfish or marlin eye can be because most of it is inside the head. As impressive as the eye's size is, it pales in comparison to the giant squid's dinnerplate-sized eye that comes in at 3 times the diameter of the swordfish orb. Scientists speculate the larger eye allows the squid to detect the shimmer of bioluminescent organisms in the dark of the ocean deep. The glitter of light could indicate the approach of the squid's only predator, the sperm whale.

Fish eyes, for the most part, work similar to our eyes. They have rods and cones, and light enters through a cornea and passing through the pupil to reach the lens. Most fish have a fixed pupil size, but cephalopods, like the giant squid, have a pupil that adjusts size and shape: it's w-shaped when contracted and round when fully dilated. There isn't much difference in refractive index between the water and the cornea--light passes in a straight line, no bending as it does when passing through air into our liquid-filled eyes. Human eyes are adapted to accomodate the differences in refraction between air and water and so are more concave than most fish eyes. That's why we need to wear a mask to see underwater, but fish don't.

Four-eyed fish, http://aha.miraclegreat.com/

 The four-eyed fish might just be the winner for the most unusual eyeballs in the aquatic world. These fish feed on terrestrial insects at the surface so they need to see underwater, where they live and in the air, where they feed. Their two eyes (yes, 4-eyes is a misnomer) are raised above the top of the head and divided in two different parts, allowing them to see below and above the water surface at the same time. The fish floats at the water surface with only the lower half of each eye underwater. The two halves are divided by a band of tissue and the eye has two pupils connected by part of the iris. The upper half of the eye is adapted for vision in air, the lower half for vision in water The lens of the eye also changes in thickness top to bottom to account for the different refractive indices of air versus water. The two pupils allow the 4-eyed fish to search for the food above the water while keeping an eye out for predators below the water at the same time. It also makes them really difficult to catch!

56' of Sea Serpent

What's the longest fish on record? The oarfish, Regalecus is the longest bony fish in the oceans today, holding the record of 17 meters (56') in length. Seems like something that big would have a hard time hiding, so why have most people never heard of or seen something that large?

Some sailors in the US Navy pose with a dead oarfish (1996; from Wikipedia)

Oarfish live at depths up to 3,280 feet (1,000 m), although they're more typically found at around 656 feet (200 m). They rarely venture to the surface unless they're injured or dying. Occasionally, one of these giant eely fish will be tossed onto a beach after a storm. Their eggs can be seen during spawning season from July to December in the northern hemisphere. They release the brightly coloured, buoyant eggs (up to 6 millimetres (0.24 in) across) which are incorporated into the zooplankton. The eggs hatch after about three weeks into highly active larvae that feed on other zooplankton.

Drawing of the sea serpent-like oarfish

With their long, tapering body, smooth silvery skin (they don't have scales), and red dorsal fin that runs from the eye down the entire length of the body, oarfish are the most likely source of tales of sea serpents. Their dorsal fin is composed of 400 rays, the first 10-12 of which are elongated and flow from the head like a mane. Their pelvic fins are also elongated and end in a fleshy tab. It was once believed they rowed themselves through the water with these pelvic fins, thus the name oarfish. They actually swim by undulating their long dorsal fin while keeping the body straight (as do sea horses). Similar to sea horses, oarfish have been observed swimming in a vertical position in what is believed to be a method used to search for prey.

 

A dead oarfish washed up on a beach in Perth, Australia

Oarfish are found in temperate to tropic seas, but as mentioned, they're rarely seen because of their preferred depth. In fact, the first time a swimming oarfish was caught on video was in 2001! You can see parts of that on this You-Tube video.

Oarfish have no teeth and feed on plankton, so they're no threat to humans, and humans are no threat to them since their mushy flesh isn't very tasty. Still, I might think twice about jumping into the water with a 56' long fish!!
 

Oarfish. Image from Wikipedia.

 

 

For more information on the oarfish, see:

 

Hendrickson, R. (1984). The Ocean Almanac. Doubleday, NY. 446 pp.

http://www.itsnature.org/sea/fish/oarfish/

http://www.seasky.org/deep-sea/oarfish.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oarfish

 

THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF SEA JELLIES!

I love sea jellies (commonly referred to as jellyfish, although they aren't fish at all.) My infatuation with these graceful, mesmerizing invertebrates started when I saw what looked like a cross between a flower and an anemone on the sandy bottom of Brewer's Bay in St. Thomas. I'd recently transferred to the College of the Virgin Islands and was snorkeling around the school's dock. The flower was beautiful with its green-gold petals undulating with the slight surge. I had to get a closer look! (Casseopia photo courtesy of Shyzaboy's Flickr photostream.)


As I was about to touch a petal, a hand grabbed my wrist. My ecology professor was snorkeling nearby and saw what I was about to do. He pulled me to the surface and said, "That's not a plant, it's a jellyfish."

Now I was even more fascinated so found out everything I could about Cassiopea xamachana, the "upside-down jellyfish." Three years later, I did my senior research project and independent study on Cassiopea, and have never lost my fascination with jellies.

Maybe my affinity for these creatures comes from our many shared traits: elegance, grace, soft and pliable, yet able to defend ourselves with nasty barbs.

OK, we only share one out of those five traits. I'll let you guess which. Whatever the reason for my interest in these floating sacs of jelly, I'm drawn to them and endlessly curious about the incredible variety found within the phylum Cnidaria-from the Greek word for nettle, as in the stinging plant.

The Cnidarians are broken into three classes: scyphozoans (true jellies), anthozoans (corals and anemones), and hydrozoans (colonial hydras and the Portuguese Man-of-war, not a true jelly.) While corals, anemones, and hydras are all very cool, it's the scyphozoans that really captured my heart and mind. Here are the three that I find most interesting.

Cassiopea xamachana, the upside-down mangrove jelly. My first jelly. The species name xamachana means Jamaican, so you're right to guess this is a predominantly Caribbean species. Not to cast aspersions on Jamaicans or other islanders, but these jellies have some island attitude. "It's hot down in the Caribbean mehson, we ain' wastin' energy doin' all that movin' aroung!" Instead of swimming upright, bell-up, tentacles-down in traditional jelly fashion, these guys find a comfy spot on the sandy or muddy bottom of calm lagoons or bays and kick back, upside down.

They've not only found a lazy-man approach to swimming (that is, they rarely do), but to eating, too. Inside the mesoglea (jelly) of Cassiopea live thousands of zooxanthellae: tiny, single-celled algae (dinoflagellates). They're what give Cassiopea their green-gold color. These little guys do what all plants do--they photosynthesize, creating sugar (food) from sunlight and carbon dioxide, and release oxygen in the process. This jelly-mon gets part of its food and oxygen from them.

The algae don't provide all of the food the jellies need, so they do still have to eat some. Like other jellies, Cassiopea capture unsuspecting prey that swims into their waving tentacles and lappets by paralyzing them with stinging cells (nematocysts). They then move the food to their mouths. That's right. Mouths. Cassiopea don't have a single mouth in the middle of a ring of oral arms like the rest of the jellies, but instead have mouths at the ends of each branch of their manubrium (the fancy jellyfish word for stomach)!

Is it any wonder I became so intrigued with these guys?

The object of my next jelly-infatuation is a hefty, Mediterranean species.

Cotylorhiza tuberculata, the fried-egg jelly. I first saw fried-egg jellies while sailing in the Aegean. They're one of the most common species of jelly in the Mediterranean, Agean and Adriatic. Their bell has a flattened region along the margin and a yellow-orange dome in the center giving it the appearance of a large fried egg when viewed from above. Like Cassiopea, this jelly hosts symbiotic zooxanthellae, but instead of having them throughout their bodies, they house them in round appendages between and around their oral arms. The purple-blue zooxanthellae filled balls give Cotylorhiza a festive, dressed-to-party look.

Like all jellies, Cotylorhiza have nematocysts and do sting. Reports vary on its intensity and impact on humans, ranging from "very mild" to "not dangerous." There are many reports (and pictures) of people handling them, including one of a researcher putting one on his head like a hat to demonstrate how little danger they pose. Since venom strength can vary from one animal to the next, and sensitivity can vary from person to person, I wouldn't recommend this, but I'd also be the first one to jump in and touch one.

What's really fascinating about the fried-egg jellies is that they are active swimmers. While most jellies can control over their movement through the contraction of the bell, they aren't strong swimmers and the currents and wind do most of the work. When aggregations of jellyfish "swarm" in a harbor, it's usually less because they wanted to stop there and more because the current or wind put them there. Fried egg jellies, though, actively move back and forth across harbors to be in the sunlight, probably to keep their zooxanthellae happy and productive.

Click HERE to see a great you-tube video of the fried-egg jelly swimming.

My final favorite jelly is Cyanea capillata, the lion's mane jelly. This jelly isn't one of my favorites because of its physiology, behavior, or appearance, but out of empathy. People judge it harshly based on a widely circulated picture that uses perspective to make it appear to be something it isn't. Haven't we all been judged quickly or falsely based on appearance?

I like to say that perception is NOT reality unless it's correct, and MISperception is just plain wrong. In the case of Cyanea, the misperception is about its size. Yes, the lion's mane jelly is the largest sea jelly in the world, but based on the image shown here--one that periodically makes its way around the Internet--this thing is a MONSTER! Even if that man next to it is 6' tall, the jelly is still more than twice his length. That would make this behemoth a whopping 15' across.

The truth is, even though the lion's mane jelly is the largest scyphozoan in the world's oceans, it only grows to about 6.5 feet (or 8' by some reports). Its tentacles can extend as far as 50 feet (or 100', depending on the source). Yes, its tentacles sting. But the toxin is far from "the most potent species of jellyfish" as reported on the National Geographic website. That honor remains with the box jelly (aka cubomedusa or sea wasp), the most venomous animal in the world. More than 5500 deaths have been attributed to box jellies since people started keeping records of that sort of thing in 1884. Cyanea's sting is said to be painful, but it's rarely fatal.

The lion's mane jelly only reaches the maximum of its size range in cold, northern waters of the Arctic, northern boreal seas, and North Atlantic. In the Atlantic, it can be found as far south as Florida. It's abundant enough in South Carolina waters that the SCDNR has a listing for them on their "Marine Organisms of SC" website, where they're noted as considerably smaller than 6-8' in diameter, and having a far from potent sting:

"The bell, measuring 6-8 inches (emphasis added), is saucer-shaped with reddish-brown oral arms and eight clusters of tentacles hanging underneath. Cyanea are generally considered moderate stingers. Symptoms are similar to those of the moon jelly but, usually more intense. Pain is relatively mild and often described as burning rather than stinging."

At least this jellies' notoriety resulted in some small bit of fame for the maligned creatures. A Cyanea sea jelly was the murder weapon in the Sherlock Holmes mystery "The Adventure of the Lion's Mane." The victim must have been highly sensitive, though, since most swimmers who encounter this giant jelly survive to tell the story themselves.

To read more about these fascinating creatures, take a look at these resources:

The Cephalopod Page http://www.thecephalopodpage.org/MarineInvertebrateZoology/Cassiopeaxamachana.html

Gowell, E. (2004). Amazing Jellies: Jewels of the Sea. A New England Aquarium Book. Bunker Hill Publishing, Piermont, NH. 48 pp.

Humann, Paul (1992). Reef Creature Identification: Florida Caribbean Bahamas. New World Publications, Inc., Jacksonville, FL. 320 pp.

Malawi Cichlids http://www.malawicichlidhomepage.com/other/cotylorhiza_tuberculata.html

SCDNR http://www.dnr.sc.gov/marine/pub/seascience/jellyfi.html

Walla Walla University, Rosario Beach Marine Laboratory web site http://www.wallawalla.edu/academics/departments/biology/rosario/inverts/Cnidaria/Class-Scyphozoa/Order-Semaeostomeae/Family-Cyaneidae/Cyanea_capillata.html

Photos from:
National Geographic at http://ocean.nationalgeographic.com/ocean/photos/colossal-sea-creatures/

NOAA

Shyzaboy's photostream on Flickr at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/shyzaboy/2628679420/

SCDNR at http://www.dnr.sc.gov/marine/pub/seascience/jellyfi.html

Sailing Lore and Legends: It's Unlucky to Kill a Porpoise. The story of Pelorus Jack

Sailing history is filled with superstition and lore. It's unlucky to start a cruise on: a Friday (the day Christ was crucified), the first Monday in April (the day Cain slew Abel), the second Monday in August (the day Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed), December 31 (the day Judas Iscariot hanged himself). Black travel bags are unlucky but black cats are good luck and bring sailors home from the sea. Women aboard a ship make the sea angry, but naked women can calm the seas.

My favorite sailing superstition is that porpoises swimming around a ship are a good sign, and it's unlucky to kill one.

Need proof of the veracity of this bit of superstition? Look no further than the story of Pelorus Jack in New Zealand. Jack was the first dolphin to ever be protected by law.

In 1888 a Risso dolphin--a species uncommon to New Zealand waters--came to the attention of sailors on the ship Brindle as they made their way from Wellington to Nelson and back. This trip required a traverse through a dangerous bit of water between NZ's North and South Islands, a narrow channel filled with rocks hiding just beneath the surface, currents of up to 8 knots, and the remains of hundreds of vessels that didn't make it through. Sailors aboard the Brindle spotted the dolphin ahead of them, but it wasn't playing in the ship's wake as they expected. It appeared to be leading them through the channel!

The dolphin met the ship at the mouth of the channel on their return trip, too, and guided them safely back to the harbor. The sailors aboard the Brindle named the dolphin Pelorus Jack.

For 24 years, Pelorus Jack met ships from the entrance of Pelorus Sound and led them to French Pass, then picked them up again as they came out of the pass on their return journey to lead them safely back to the harbor. He was so reliable that many captains refused to go forward until he appeared. Clearly, this dolphin brought luck to all the vessels he brought safely home from their voyage. His reputation and fame grew, and people came from around the world to see him, including Mark Twain!

But, sadly, people are people and it wasn't just those who were amazed and awed that flocked to see the dolphin that seemed intent on helping sailors. In 1904, a passenger aboard a ship named Penguin fired a shot at the dolphin. Jack swam away, leaving a trail of blood in the water. Thankfully, he survived and reappeared two weeks later and proved he was as smart as he seemed: he never again led the Penguin through the channel.

Public outcry over the shooting incident led to passage of a law protecting Pelorus Jack and making it illegal to shoot a dolphin in New Zealand waters.

Pelorus Jack guided his last ship to the channel on April 12, 1912. He disappeared after that, probably dying of old age. New Zealand declared a day of national mourning to honor him, a candy bar was named after him, and songs have been written about this dolphin that brought luck to the sailors and led them safely home.

As the perfect post script to Pelorus Jack's story, five years after the passenger shot at the dolphin, the Penguin sank on the rocks in French Pass. It was the only ship lost in the channel during all the years Jack led ships through.

Closer to home, this past year, the South Carolina legislature refused to pass a law lowering the speed vessels can travel in the Charleston harbor--a law proposed because of an alarming increase in the number of fatal collisions between commercial ships and marine mammals. When a fourth-grade school class submitted a proposal to make the Atlantic bottlenose dolphin the state marine mammal, the legislature refused. One of our illustrious elected officials defended his vote against it by saying, "If we did that, we'd have to lower the vessel speed in the harbor to protect them, and that would be bad for commerce."

Maybe the SC legislature needs to hear about Pelorus Jack, the sailing superstition that it's bad luck to kill a porpoise, and the fate of the Penguin?


SOURCES:

The Bathroom Readers' Institute (2007). Uncle John's Under the Slimy Sea. Bathroom Readers' Press, Ashland, OR. 144 pp.

The Encyclopedia of New Zealand at http://www.teara.govt.nz/en/dolphins/5/2

Hendrickson, Robert (1984). The Ocean Almanac. Doubleday Books, New York, NY. 446 pp.


* Photo of Pelorus Jack downloaded from Wikipedia.com

Welcome to Waterblogged!

Welcome to Waterblogged! This is where I get to write about water, and anything and everything related to water. Bizarre sea creatures, great islands or coastal towns, watersports or events, and the marine environment: If it's water related---and everything is--I might write about it here! Pop in and see what's caught my fancy each week.