In 1940, John Steinbeck cataloged wildlife in the Sea of Cortez. Now, a new creature lurks beneath the surface.
“Trying to remember the Gulf is like trying to recreate a dream,” John Steinbeck wrote about the Gulf of California.
On March 11, 1940, Steinbeck, his wife Carol, and his close companion, marine biologist Ed Ricketts, boarded an old sardine fishing boat in Monterey, California and set sail south to Mexico’s Gulf of California, also known as the Sea of Cortez. The 76-foot Western Flyer had been converted into a makeshift laboratory for scientific observation, loaded with preserving jars, long-handled dip nets, microscopes, and a hearty supply of beer. As the vessel slipped past the mouth of the bay and headed south into the open sea, it marked the beginning of a historic journey to Mexico’s Sea of Cortez.
“Let us go,” Steinbeck wrote about the voyage, in The Log from the Sea of Cortez, “into the Sea of Cortez, realizing that we become forever a part of it.”
Over the course of six weeks and 4,000 miles, Steinbeck and Ricketts explored the “washtub bluing blue” body of water wedged between Baja California Peninsula and Mainland Mexico. They collected and preserved marine invertebrates, trudged through eelgrass, peeked under rocks to examine intertidal species, and recorded the distribution of the diverse fauna of the Sea of Cortez—from Sally Lightfoot crabs to gray porpoises. Together, they catalogued over 550 species of marine invertebrates.
But now, one sea creature—absent from Ricketts and Steinbeck’s catalogs—lurks in sometimes massive swarms beneath the Gulf waters: The voracious Humboldt squid, an aggressive cephalopod that can grow up to six feet in length and weigh as much as 110 pounds. Read about the mystery here.
Photos by Ed Ricketts Collection/Western Flyer Foundation/California History Room, Monterey Public Library/Chad Waluk/William Gilly.
Bobtail squid buries itself in the sand. Someone should seriously gif this, at least the last few seconds when its covering its head.
Today we’re celebrating #CephalopodWeek with these two critters from a collection titled “Ancient Unedited Monuments” made by James Millingen in the 1820s.
This flamboyant cuttlefish can crawl and camouflage like no other.
Have you ever seen a cuttlefish walk?
If you stop by the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s “Tentacles” exhibit, you might. The aquarium is one of a handful in the country to display flamboyant cuttlefish (Metasepia pfefferi), a diminutive species of cephalopod that often forgoes swimming to crawl, army-style, along the seafloor (or the bottom of a tank).
“They kinda lumber around on four appendages,” says Bret Grasse, who manages the cephalopods in the aquarium’s exhibit. Those appendages include two large arms and portions of the cuttlefish’s mantle, which it extends “to provide what looks like two projected legs,” he explains.
Aside from that weird walk, M. pfefferi is also unique among cuttlefish for flashing a resplendent display of hues and patterns. “I think of them as sort of like a biological bouquet of flowers,” says Grasse. “They’re just so gorgeous and exotic, and they make such an unbelievably beautiful arrangement of colors together, from reds, pinks, to yellows, to whites, blacks.” Read more about the dazzling cuttlefish here.
Photos by Monterey Bay Aquarium
Ah—so that’s how it works!
A biologist—and cephalopod matchmaker—studies the mating rituals of the lesser Pacific striped octopus.
It’s small. It’s striped. It’s looking for love. Meet the lesser Pacific striped octopus. Full-time biologist—part-time cephalopod matchmaker, Richard Ross invites us into his secret home lab where he studies the mating rituals of these tiny cephalopods. Watch here!
Love And War In The World Of The Cephalopod
That’s right … Cephalopod Week is BACK! Starting today and running through June 23rd, we’ll be celebrating all our favorite smart invertebrates. Tune in, and as always share your amazing cephalopod love with us!