Ever feel like you want to drift away for a while? Here you go, a slideshow featuring my photos of kelp and other seaweeds/algae.
Maybe watch it while listening to your favourite calming songs?
I put this slideshow together for an upcoming workshop on seaweed. It’s full, but you can sign up for alerts about future workshops.
Photos are from near northeast Vancouver Island taken by yours truly in the Traditional Territories of the Kwakwa̱ka̱’wakw (the Kwak̕wala-speaking Peoples). Final photo of me photographing kelp is by dive buddy, Don Gordon.
The Importance of Algae The Ocean’s algae, from the microscopic to the giant kelps:
The algae / seaweeds are producers, converting sunlight to food to fuel the food web. They offer we humans so much nutrition too.
Kelps are habitat for hundreds of species.
Kelp in Trouble Where every species lives is, of course, because the conditions are right. For example, the temperature is not too cold. It’s not too hot. It’s just right. Yes, this is referenced as the Goldilocks Principle. Changing temperatures are impacting the health of kelp forests, as are other variables involved with climate change such as more frequent and stronger winds ripping away more kelp.
Also, there are far fewer Sunflower Stars due to Sea Star Wasting Disease which is believed to be associated with climate change. Sunflower Stars are predators of Green Urchins. Green Urchins graze on kelp. With less Sunflower Stars, there are more Green Urchins. More urchins leads to more grazing on kelp. In the extreme, this leads to “urchin barrens” where the kelp forest has been grazed away. This is not the urchins’ fault, of course. It’s due to human activity.
Less kelp = less food, oxygen, habitat and buffering of carbon dioxide.
Common Solutions: This is not an additional problem! There are common solutions for many socio/environmental problems. What is going on with kelp is another symptom of the same negative forces – disconnect, a focus on short-term economies, and a culture that perpetuates fear, misinformation, overwhelm and reduced empowerment. Whatever you do to reduce carbon dioxide (from your energy use, consumerism, to how you vote) will help the kelp and all that depends on them. 💙
Can a 2 cm stalked jelly make you feel small? Yes. Can it fill you with awe, wonder, affirmation, purpose, and drive? Yes. Does it make it feel like all the immersion, the cold, and the learning from this little bit of the planet, somehow makes a positive difference? In a quiet voice, I say . . . yes.
It has been confirmed by Claudia Mills that I have the identification of this stalked jelly correct as Haliclystus californiensis. Note that:
It has only been recognized as a distinct species in 2010 (Kahn et al., 2010). At the time of that publication, only 10 individuals had been found and only “from southern to northern California in coastal waters” (hence the species name “californiensis“).
This would be only the 25th global documentation to be included on the Global Biodiversity Information Facility, which, since the research of Kahn et al. in 2010, includes findings of the species in Sweden and Denmark. Note that there is doubt about whether the individuals documented in the Atlantic are indeed the same species.
Are they deep-dwelling? No. In the research I reference above, it is stated that they are known from depths of 10 to 30 metres. I found this one at about 6 metres depth.
What are stalked jellies? They never become free-swimming, bell-shaped medusae like other jellies. They attach by their sticky stalk and have 8 arms with pom-pom-like clusters of tentacles at the ends. These tentacles have stinging cells to catch small crustaceans, which are then moved to the mouth at the centre of the 8 arms. If detached, stalked jellies can grip a surface with their tentacles and quickly reattach their stalk.
Above image from Kahn et al., 2010. Their description includes: martini glass shaped; 2.1 cm tall; 15.5 mm wide; 8 arms with 60 to 80 capitate secondary tentacles, and the red structures are gonadal sacs.
How did I find this one? There was fortuitousness involved. But also, I was looking when many would not. I was looking because of what I have been able to learn previously.
The sighting was on October 30, 2025, when diving with a group I organized to go to God’s Pocket Resort. It was our last dive of the trip and the last dive for the God’s Pocket Team for 2025. It had already been an astounding morning, which included documenting Humpbacks and Bigg’s Killer Whales while on the boat. Captain Bryan had been considering another dive site in Browning Pass, but the current and the potential for him to get more opportunistic whale IDs (with telephoto lens) while we were diving, led him to choose this location.
We had dived this site earlier in the week, and then too I had rushed to the “end” where I know there is a little patch of Eelgrass. I was looking for another species of Haliclystus I have found there before, for which a species name has NOT been assigned. This does not mean in any way that I discovered it, but rather that researchers have not yet published the research describing how it is morphologically and genetically distinct. See photo below.
This is the unnamed / undescribed species of Oval-anchored Stalked Jelly I have found at this site previously (and in a multitude of other locations around northeastern Vancouver Island).
I reached the Eelgrass bed and watched a school of Tubesnout (fish) swim around. Then, I focused on the Eelgrass to see if, maybe this time, I could find the undescribed species. Later, my photos would reveal just how intent I had been. See below for a photo of the school of fish with the flipper of a mature Steller Sea Lion in the frame. I had noticed he had passed so close to me. Yes, I can find 2 cm stalked jellies, and miss a ~3 m, 1,000 kg Steller Sea Lion.
And then, there it was. My brain started screaming immediately, knowing this was a unique species. Does it matter? It does to me. And maybe, it does to you.
May this add to wonder, appreciation, and the appropriate humility that we humans know so little about even the marine species that live in the shallows. May that foster care, and actions that benefit all of us connected by water and air on this ocean planet.
Photo gives you a better sense of how small this species is.
Mills, Claudia (pers comms 2025-11-03) about known past documentations of this species:
Southernmost is Santa Cruz Island (1950, Gwilliam).
Four in central California noted by Kahn (2010).
One in Depoe Bay, Oregon.
One near Calvert Island on the Central Coast of British Columbia on August 1st, 2017 as a result of a collaboration including the Smithsonian Institution’s Marine Global Earth Observatory and the Hakai Institute.
One near Bamfield, southwest Vancouver Island, British Columbia, by Ron Larson, October 1983.
Photos above and below: Divers and crew on my October 2025 trip with God’s Pocket Resort.
What’s a “Giant Black Cucumaria”? It’s an extraordinary species of sea cucumber that has a football-shaped body and can be up to 30 cm long. Below I have a video of one feeding.
The Giant Black Cucumaria I documented for 4 months. Photographer here with my dive buddy, Natasha Dickinson.
I had never seen one before January of this year. I was able to document that one it in the same place over a period of 4 months. I never saw that individual with its feeding tentacles out.
But then, in April, I chanced upon another individual in a different location near northeast Vancouver Island. This one was feeding! In my video below, see how the Giant Black Cucumaria collects plankton on 10 bushy tentacles, sticks one in its mouth, and scrapes off food. Then, repeat with another tentacle. Yum!
This is also how some other species of sea cucumber feed e.g. Orange Sea Cucumbers (Cucumaria miniata).
More about Giant Black Cucumaria:
The two individuals I documented were near northeast Vancouver Island.
The Giant Black Cucumaria has been assigned the scientific name “Cucumaria frondosa japonica” but its species status is not resolved. It’s believe to be closely related to Cucumaria japonica found near Japan.
The individual I documented for 4 months. May have been there longer. But when I returned after 5 months, it was no longer there.
Extremely rare find – Seven-armed Octopus (Haliphron atlanticus)! This is a deep sea species which DOES have 8 arms, but the males do something that has led to this name. Read on!
Females are HUGE at up to 4 metres long and 75 kg. Males are SO MUCH smaller at only up to 30 cm long. This one was about 120 cm long and was juvenile female.
She was found dead by Kathleen Durant on South Pender Island, British Columbia on August 23, 2025. Thankfully, Kathleen knew this was unique and potentially important, took photos, and gathered the individual before it was lost to the tide.
She was initially identified as a Seven-armed Octopus by Casey Cook on the Field Naturalists of Vancouver Island (FNVI) Facebook page and confirmed by experts at the Royal BC Museum (in which I has a small role in connecting people). The Museum is where this extremely rare individual is now stored to contribute to knowledge/science.
Why the “Seven-armed Octopus” (also “Septopus” and “Blob Octopus”) when the species has 8 arms? Male octopuses have one specialized arm for reproduction which has no suckers at the tip called the “hectocotylus arm”. The section at the top which has the spermatophore. This section does not have the cells that allows colour and texture to change (the chromatophores). So, because it is not camouflaged, male octopuses hide it. In Giant Pacific Octopuses, the males usually curl up this arm. But, in THIS species, the males tuck away the arm . . . in a sac beneath their right eye! The arm is so well hidden that it looks like they have seven arms.
How rare are they? As an indicator, in an article from 2017 the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI) researchers with use of deep sea ROVs (remotely operated vehicles) had only seen three live H. atlanticus in 27 years.
Two truly extraordinary sightings of live individuals in the shallows were by divers Eric Askilsrud and Cam Polglase, both in September 2023. Eric took photos of one near Salt Creek, Washington and Cam videoed one near Ogden Point, British Columbia. Yes, I wish I was those divers.
I also learned from Gregory Jensen of the University of Washington that two other Seven-armed Octopuses are known to have washed up – one in south Puget Sound and the other by Whidbey Island, Washington.
Read the article from MBARI and watch the video above for how it was determined that this species feeds on gelatinous zooplankton – jellyfish, siphonphores and salps – and that the large females MAY use the jellies as defence!
You just never know how you could contribute to science, and wonder. As expressed by Casey Cook: “The ocean’s mysteries don’t always swim at six thousand feet! Sometimes they’re right at our feet.“
Thank you so much Kathleen for making this count.
From the article referenced above by MBARI:
“Since female Haliphron atlanticus are so large, they are able to completely grasp and contain a large jelly within their webbed arms and still swim. They use their beak to bite through the bell of the jelly to access the digestive cavity to consume the food contained within and to have access to the more nutritious parts of the jelly. At this point the jelly is dead, but the bell and fringe are still intact. Hoving and Haddock [MBARI researchers] postulate that, given the way Haliphron is holding the bell with the fringe of tentacles dragging behind, the octopus could be using the sticky and stinging tentacles (which still sting after the jelly is dead) either for defense or to capture other more nutritious prey . .
ROVs enabled the first observations of this novel octopod species and its even more novel behavior that revealed an unexpected role in oceanic food webs. Researchers now know that Haliphron, a food resource for top predators such as sperm whales, blue sharks, and swordfish, distributes energy to its predators along a path that incorporates gelatinous species.”
Dear Community, It’s the annual announcement that always gives me great joy while also feeling like a big relief. Next year’s WILD Calendar is now available. Thank you so much to all who helped by voting on the selection of my photos. The 2026 WILD Calendarscan be ordered at this link.
My WILD Calendar is aimed at creating awareness about the diversity and fragility of life hidden in the cold, dark, life-sustaining northeast Pacific Ocean. It is the waters dark with plankton that have more life, produce more oxygen, and buffer more carbon dioxide.
It’s the 17th year I have made a WILD Calendar. It’s truly moving to feel the support from you who put these calendars into the world. You are helping increase connection and understanding of our reliance on the Ocean. That’s needed to make the decisions, day-by-day, that consider future generations – from whales, to octopuses, nudibranchs, sea stars, and our own very strange, two-legged species. 💙
Each month’s photo has a detailed descriptor included about the featured marine life. The calendars are $28.50 + tax.
They are large and printed on sturdy paper on Vancouver Island, coil bound with a hole to hang them. 33 x 26.5 cm closed and 33 x 53 cm open (13 x 10.5″ closed /13 x 21″ open).
There are BIG spaces to write your daily adventures. Text is included to indicate when there is a full moon (PDT).
Beauty amid the debris: Mosshead Warbonnet living in a beer bottle. Natural habitat would be a crevice or a tube-worm tube. Glass is by far not the worst debris or pollutant in the ocean. But the ocean is not where any of our waste belongs. Up and down our coast, there is evidence of garbage purposely “deposited” as if it were a black hole into which waste disappears. This is testament to the extreme disconnect between human health and marine health, and ignorance about the marine life “hidden” in these dark waters thick with plankton. May a fish face make a difference. Chirolophis nugator to ~15 cm long.
February 2026 image and text
Candy Stripe Shrimp on a Crimson Anemone: They must be immune to the anemone’s stinging cells (nematocysts). The shrimp benefit from snacks (anemone poop and sloughed tissues) and the anemone may get protection. Greg Jensen of “Crabs and Shrimps of the Pacific Coast” observed in his aquarium that Candy Stripe Shrimp would share space on an anemone with Kincaid’s Shrimp but immediately attacked Snyder’s Blade Shrimp – a species believed to harm the anemone. Candy Stripe Shrimp (Lebbeus grandimanus) to 4.5 cm long. Crimson Anemone (Cribrinopsis rubens) to 30 cm tall and only described as a distinct species in 2018.
March 2026 image and text
Flowing underwater forest: Young Bull Kelp growing toward the sun — providing habitat, refuge, oxygen, carbon buffering, food for many species, and even serving as a navigation aid. Bull Kelp is an annual species. Most of what you see here (the sporophyte) dies off in winter. The sporophyte results from the reproduction of a completely different version of Bull Kelp — the very small gametophyte. The stipe (stem-like structure) can grow up to 36 m in length. The stipe has to grow an average of 17 cm per day over the ~210-day growing period (source: Druel) to drink in the sunlight, photosynthesize, and help sustain life on Earth — above and below the surface.
April 2026 image and text
Magnificent acrobats: Northern Opalescent Nudibranch feeling their way over Eelgrass. The structures extending upward from the head are the rhinophores by which they “smell” their way around. At the base of each rhinophore is an eye with 5 photoreceptor cells to sense light and dark. Species is up to 8 cm long and was reclassified as Hermissenda crassicornis in 2016. Where the ranges of 2 Hermissenda species overlap, this one is now often referenced as the Thick-horned Nudibranch. But, as I have stated previously, who wants to be called “thick” when you can be called “opalescent”?! Let’s go with Northern Opalescent Nudibranch.
May 2026 image and text
All mothers great and small: Female Brooding Anemone with her young benefitting from the protective canopy of her tentacles (Epiactis lisbethae to 8 cm across). There can be up to 300 offspring. Eggs are fertilized in the mother’s digestive cavity with sperm she has captured. The young develop inside her until they hatch into planktonic larvae. Then, they swim out of her mouth, settle on her body, and grow into little anemones that feed independently. Ultimately, they will shuffle off toward independence. Breeding in Brooding Anemones is seasonal – spring/summer. As a result, the young clustered around the mother’s column are all of a similar age and size.
June 2026 image and text
Sea Otter and Geoduck: Sea Otters were wiped out (extirpated) in BC. From 1969 to 1972, ~89 were translocated to NW Vancouver Island as a mitigation measure for nuclear testing in Alaska. Now, there are 8,100+ (Nichol et al. 2020). Even with incredibly dense fur – which made them so desirable in the fur trade – they need to eat up to 25% of their body mass per day to be warm in this cold ocean. Diet includes urchins which eat kelp. So, with more Sea Otters there is more kelp (with the many benefits). This may be a female. Males often bite females’ noses during mating. Geoducks are the world’s largest burrowing clam and can live for 140+ years.
July 2026 image and text
Red Irish Lord: This fish’s face says a lot about how I have felt about “developments” in the world. You too? Red Irish Lords are powerful ambassadors for the vivid colour in these cold waters (Hemilepidotus hemilepidotus to 51 cm). They are variations/combinations of red, orange, yellow, pink, purple, and white. How could such a colourful fish be camouflaged? Because the life around them has this intensity and diversity of colour. Even their eyes are camouflaged. This Red Irish Lord is on top of Red Soft Coral and Bushy Pink-mouth Hydroids – motionless, waiting for prey to come near. See my blog “Crabs Making Bad Choices” for what happens.
August 2026 image and text
Life in sand: Tube-dwelling Anemone (Pachycerianthus fimbriatus crown to 30 cm wide) and Northern Moonsnail (Neverita lewisii shell to 14 cm across). These anemones retract into their long tube in the sand (up to 1 m long) when pounced on by their predator, the Giant Nudibranch. Moonsnails need a big foot to dig for clams, which they drill into with their radula. The foot of a Northern Moonsnail can inflate with seawater to be 4 times the size of what it is when in the shell. They also rely on sand for their egg masses. Females embed 1000s of eggs between 2 layers of sand bound with mucus. Then, they push the collar-shaped egg mass above the sand.
September 2026 image and text
Humpback Inukshuk (BCZ0339): Nickname is for the marking on the centre of his fluke that looks like a pile of rocks. He is known to migrate to the breeding grounds of Mexico and return (skinny) to the feeding grounds of NE Vancouver Island every year since 2008. Sometimes still here in November. Some Humpbacks leave even later. They have staggered migrations – leaving and returning at different times whereby there can be Humpbacks in BC at any time of year. Inukshuk often rests at the surface during the day and can be so difficult to detect. There is great concern about vessel strike. For whale and boater safety, please see http://www.WhaleSafeBoating.org.
October 2026 image and text
Veiled octopus: I now carry this experience with me. I want you to carry it too – knowing about this Giant Pacific Octopus and feeling at least some of what I felt. I had my head down, slowly moving along in awe of a little species of sea cucumber that was spawning. I looked up from my focus on the small, and there, looking in my direction, was this Giant Pacific Octopus. I backed off. The octopus backed up, into the filamentous brown algae. And then, for some 5 minutes, we looked at one another. The octopus veiled in the algae. Me, wrapped in wonder. One of us a brief, and light-flashing visitor. The other, royalty among the invertebrates.
November 2026 image and text
Stalked jelly – species of Haliclystus: Size is about 3 cm and this individual was at 1 m depth. No species name has been assigned. That would follow the publication of research showing it is morphologically and genetically distinct. Stalked jellies never become free-swimming, bell-shaped medusa. They attach by their sticky stalk (this one is anchored to Eelgrass) and have 8 arms with pom-pom-like clusters of tentacles at the ends. These tentacles have stinging cells to catch small crustaceans which are then moved to the mouth at the centre of the 8 arms. If detached, stalked jellies can grip a surface with their tentacles and quickly reattach by their stalk.
December 2026 image and text
Shut the door: The species in the centre is a Red-trumpet Calcareous Tubeworm with its crown (radioles) of high surface area to snare plankton. The colourful, trumpet-like structure on the animal’s lower right is their operculum. It functions like a door, pulling closed after the tubeworm retracts, giving further protection to the worm in its hard, shell-like tube of a home. Serpula columbiana to 6.5 cm long. The other species near the worm are tunicates – our closest invertebrate relatives. In their larval stage, tunicates have a backbone-like structure (notochord). Here, the Broadbase Tunicate is red, and the Mushroom Compound Tunicates are white.
In April, there were quite a few Egg Yolk Jellies around northeast Vancouver Island. I dedicated one dive to trying to find at least one and watch it for a while. You never know what you’ll learn from a species that has survived on Earth for ~500 million years.
Egg Yolk Jellies are also known as Fried Egg Jellies. Gee, I wonder how this species got their common names? 😉 Their scientific name is Phacellophora camtschatica.
They are big at up to 60 cm across the bell. But that’s no where near as big as the other common giant jelly species off our coast, the Lion’s Mane Jelly. They can be 2.5 m across the bell (the bigger Lion’s Mane Jellies are usually not near the coast).
The yellow centres in Egg Yolk Jellies are the gonads. They can be much lighter coloured than the individuals you see here. Egg Yolk Jellies have 16 large lobes that alternate with much smaller lobe-like structures giving the bell a scalloped edge. Each lobe has clusters of up to 25 tentacles making for up to 400 tentacles (25 x 16) and they can be 6 metres long.
I was more than 30 minutes into the dive when I saw the white, slow pulsing through the soup of plankton. The jelly was swimming in my direction. I swam toward the jelly.
For twelve minutes, I watched, photographed, and learned.
I saw how the tentacles became longer and that the jelly stopped pulsing. Motionless in the water column, the tentacles spread out like a net. See that in the series of photos below?
I don’t think there was a “catch” (they feed on zooplankton, including ctenophores and other jellies). Had there been, the tentacles with the prey would have moved toward the jelly’s mouth.
I now have a much better appreciation for how they are not “passively planktonic”. They are active swimmers responding to cues in the environment. Moriarty et al., 2012 used acoustic transmitters to tag them and noted differences in swimming speed and vertical migration dependent on time of day and tidal cycle.
Jellies have sensory structures called rhopalia.
From Rebecca Helm, 2018: Each ropalium . . . is packed with microscopic crystals at its tip. These crystals help the jelly sense up and down, by bending in the direction of gravity, similar to our inner ear. They also have a small pigment spot, which likely helps the jelly sense basic light and dark. So far, we’ve got an animal that can tell which way it’s pointing in space, and see rough light and shadow. Next we’ve got a few mystery structures, like the little bonnet-like structure surrounding the rhopalium above, which may act like a jelly nose, helping it sense chemicals in the water . . . Each rhopalium also acts like a pacemaker, helping coordinate jelly movement, similar to the way our cerebellum coordinates ours.”
And you thought they were just “going with the flow”. 💙
For more information about the diversity of jellies on our coast, see my previous blog post “Gob Smacked” at this link. From that blog:
Lion’s Mane Jellies and Egg Yolk Jellies. are the only two common jelly species in our waters that can create a sting that irritates human skin, even when the jellies are dead. The stinging cells (nematocysts) work even when the jelly is dead or you get a severed tentacle drifting by your face. The sting from a Lion’s Mane Jelly is reported to be worst than that of an Egg Yolk Jelly.
I’ve been stung by both and clearly it’s not been enough to deter me from striving to get photos of them. But if you have far more skin exposed or are a fisher grabbing nets with many of the tentacles wrapped in them, it is reported to be very uncomfortable.
The solution to the irritation is vinegar (acid), meat tenderizer (enzyme) and I know that many fishers swear by Pacific canned milk as well. Research puts forward that vinegar is the only real solution and that urine does not work at all.
The Browning Pass Hideaway in Clam Cove burned today.
There has been a file from the BC Ministry of Forests regarding the tenure of this dive lodge dating back to 2016 (see notice below). There were very significant concerns about long-term neglect (see photos below) and resulting environmental impacts.
The fire was discovered and reported by a dive group from God’s Pocket Resort. No one was injured. Documentation is by Bryan Hillyer.
“At approximately 11:15am, our group of divers noticed smoke billowing out of Clam Cove, located on the north end of Browning Passage. We took the boat into the cove to check for danger and found The Hideaway, a scuba dive lodge, burning. We notified Coast Guard and stayed to monitor the flames to ensure the surrounding forest did not catch on fire. Once the flames receded and the majority of the floating structure had burned, we notified Coast Guard of the status of the fire and took our leave.”
There is no information currently about the cause of the fire, and speculation is not welcome.
Why am I sharing this information?
Because many of us in the BC dive community have a connection to this site be it because of concerns about the neglect and/or because of knowing the owner. Also, it provides insight into how there can be these realities of long-term neglect from those who lease sites, all the way up and down our coast. Who pays? The environment in astoundingly beautiful and important places that, of course, are connected to millennia of First Nations culture.
Tomorrow, as so many of you know and feel, is Canada’s federal election. And, I’m tariffied. That’s not a typo.
The Canadian election has been dominated by the results of the election on the other side of the border. So many of us are left thinking HOW and WHY did our neighbours ever make that choice?
We feel the global shock waves that are the result – from finance, to human decency, to national security, to consideration of the environment that sustains us.
How and why? Dear Canadian neighbours, now we are there ourselves.
Tomorrow will mirror back to us who we are and what we value (acknowledging and deeply feeling the realities of our non-proportional voting system).
The ugly in the world is not in the shadows.
This is how it began on the other side of the border. He who “says it like it is” – an invitation for more of the ugly to creep out from the dark.
I sense in myself the want to disengage; that I feel disoriented, wounded and even targeted. The leader on the other side of the border is the embodiment of what I have stood against since, as a child, I stepped between a bully and his target.
The gag-inducing hairball, the recoil, the violations of attempted autocracy come together with technology that creates further vertigo about reality, truth, and even who we are.
What to do?
To swing far to the right, is wrong. To create a party that invites and fosters violations of humanity/equality and the environment is wrong.
Feel what you feel and identify your response to it – fading, disengaging, hurting, despairing, scrolling away?
And then say, hell no.
Hell no to the bullying, the attempts to overwhelm, violate, disorient, disempower.
Hell no to handing over our power, identity, values, and the further resources that sustain life (which is exactly the attempted strategy of using the blunt tools of fear and lies).
Tomorrow we vote.
And then we live with the reality, in all cases putting good into the world, having empathy for those who are being sucked under in this vortex of ugly and their inability to see clearly.
Stay afloat, know the way forward, guided by the values that will serve future generations.
I have struggled with whether I will share who I am voting for.
We in the riding of North Island-Powell River have the following reality:
A candidate that has attracted and emboldened the far right.
The alternative choices of three other candidates.
Having to consider strategic voting because the vote for those who do not want the Conservative candidate, will be split three ways.
This has led to the decision to vote for the NDP candidate despite the Liberal candidate being someone I know.
Background on the quote I present here from Rita Leon, Sts’ailes, Nation.
It was provided as a comment on a social media post I made by Wendy Burton: “A dear friend, who is an Indigenous elder, told me many years ago, when knowledge of the Residential school system began to seep into my world: Despair is a position of the privileged. I have no time for despair. It stops me from doing my part to heal this magnificent world. Do I sit in the dark and weep sometimes? Yes. Do I rise up? Always.”
I now carry this with me. I want you to carry it too – the knowledge of this Giant Pacific Octopus. I want you to feel at least some of what I felt. So here is a series of photos for you, with the backstory.
I had my head down, slowly moving along in awe of a little species of sea cucumber that was spawning. I looked up from my focus on the small, and there, looking in my direction, was this Giant Pacific Octopus.
I backed off. The octopus backed up, into the filamentous brown algae. And then, for some 5 minutes, we looked at one another. The octopus veiled in the algae. Me, wrapped in wonder.
One of us a brief, and light-flashing visitor. The other, royalty among the invertebrates.
Octopus evolution goes back some 330 million years (before dinosaurs). That’s 1,000+ times longer than we two-legged weirdos have been on Earth (homo sapiens).
May the photos communicate some of the emotion and connect you all the more deeply to your care for this coast and our extraordinary neighbours – in how/what we buy, in our energy use, and . . . in how we vote.
An anemone species that parasitizes the jellyfish that eat them?! Then they move out, drop off and live on the ocean bottom?! And they can also move Spiderman-like from one jelly host to another?!
Yes! And in all these years this is the first time I THINK I MAY have photographed a Jelly-dwelling Anemone. They are also known as the Twelve-tentacled Parasitic Anemones and are only up to 2 cm across (Peachia quinquecapitata).
Oh Nature you are so wildly varied and fabulous! Somehow seeing this remarkable little animal with a wicked lifecycle makes me feel better fortified to cope with the human-inflicted wickedness in the world. I hope it does the same for you. 💙
About Jelly-dwelling Anemones from Hanby and Lamb, Marine Life of the Pacific Northwest:
“After the larva of this anemone is ingested by a jelly, the tables are turned as it begins to feed on the host’s internal organs. Eventually, it transforms into an almost transparent anemone that hangs inside the jelly . . . Ultimately the anemone drops off and assumes a bottom-dwelling existence in a mud/sand habitat . . . “
Research by Spaulding published in 1972, reports that in laboratory tests, the larval anemones of this species were endoparasitic for an average of 11 days – feeding on what was in the intestines of the jelly. Then they became ectoparasitic, feeding on the gonads (sex organs) of their host. After an average of 31 days of being ectoparasites they then “had acquired their adult characteristics and dropped off the host medusa to become free-living“.
Jelly-dwelling Anemone on its way between jellyfish host and ocean bottom? KJ Reed @Leftcoaster via iNaturalist.ca and conditions of the Creative Commons License.
Not that I would never say this species, or any other, is a monster 👹. There is nothing for humans to beware when it comes to Jelly-dwelling Anemones. Unless maybe you are living your life on a trajectory where you may get reincarnated as a jellyfish that will have its gonads eaten by this anemone species. If it is possible to sign some humans up for that fate, I currently have a list. You may have the same list.
Beware of cute little monsters: The jelly-dwelling anemone has a spooky secret . . . by Dany Burgess
Step aside, Alien. [the northeast Pacific Ocean] has its very own version of this famous parasitic predator, but without the terrifying claws or fangs. Like an eerily adorable child in a horror movie, an innocent-looking exterior hides the sinister intent of this squishy little monster.
Skeletons in the closet Peachiaquinquecapitata sounds like an unassuming name — even charming! But these innocuous anemones have a sordid past, and the road to adulthood is paved with the bodies of those who stood in their way.
Shortly after hatching into the water column, larval Peachia, called planula, are eaten by jellyfish. You’d think this would be the end of the line, but it’s exactly what the baby anemones were hoping for. Instead of getting digested, the planula get comfortable in their hosts’ gastrovascular cavities and help themselves to food particles. Hey, who doesn’t like a safe place to hide, free transportation and a free meal?
Body snatchers Unfortunately for the hosts, that free meal is just an appetizer. After a few days, the freeloading anemones begin to hunger for the main course — wait for it — the jellyfish’s internal organs. Duhn-duhn-duuuuuuuh! These pint-size parasites start with the reproductive tissue (a single baby Peachia can consume an entire jelly gonad in two days), then move on to other organs for dessert. Yum!
Weird science This fascinating research on the Peachia life cycle was conducted at Puget Sound’s own Friday Harbor Laboratories, where scientists determined that up to 62% of one host jelly population (Clytia gregaria) was infected with these little leeches each spring. Although the planula may be able to live freely without hosts, when scientists replicated this process in laboratory culture, only the ones that were eaten by jellies survived. An amazing host-swapping behavior was also observed: the anemones were able to fire their stinging cells into new host jellies and make very slow, sticky Spiderman-esque leaps from one bell to the next.
Beg, steal or burrow After about a month of eating the unlucky jellies from their insides out, the anemones have had their fill. Remember the scene in Alien where the thing bursts out of the guy’s chest? Well, picture something like that, only way less disgusting. Like swollen ticks, the now fat and happy anemones drop off and go on their merry way, settling down on the sea floor and burrowing the long columns of their bodies into the mud.
Not much is known about the fate of the host jellies, but I am guessing that having your organs munched is probably harmful to your health.
Beg, steal or burrow After about a month of eating the unlucky jellies from their insides out, the anemones have had their fill. Remember the scene in Alien where the thing bursts out of the guy’s chest? Well, picture something like that, only way less disgusting. Like swollen ticks, the now fat and happy anemones drop off and go on their merry way, settling down on the sea floor and burrowing the long columns of their bodies into the mud.
Not much is known about the fate of the host jellies, but I am guessing that having your organs munched is probably harmful to your health.
Homebodies After spending their childhoods wreaking youthful havoc on other living creatures, Peachia adults assume new peaceful identities as model citizens. Occurring in the shallow subtidal zone of the Pacific Northwest, they spend their time with their 12 tentacles splayed out on the surface, passively waiting for food to drift by. A closer look reveals that their striped pattern is made up of delicate chevrons — very on-trend with the interior decorating crowd.
Living hand to mouth The taxonomy crowd might appreciate Peachia for a different stand-out feature, called the conchula: a projection near the mouth that functions in feeding, and is unique to this genus. In Peachia quinquecapitata, the conchula is divided into five distinct finger-like lobes, almost like a miniature hand. And I have to hand it to these mini moochers…they definitely get away with biting the hand that feeds them!”
My photos included in this blog are from April 6, 2025 near Port Hardy in the Traditional Territories of the Kwakwa̱ka̱’wakw (the Kwak̕wala-speaking Peoples).
The Marine Detective 