Category Archives: Fish

It’s Conger Time! Low Tide Rock Pooling Surprises.

December 30, 2021 Heather Buttivant 4 Comments

No matter how many times I go rock pooling, something always takes me by surprise. It helps that I’m constantly awestruck by simple things: the blue flash of a kingfisher zipping over the pools; the unfurling tentacles of a fanworm; a seaweed-covered stone that turns into spider crab – sprouting legs and walking off.

Today, Junior and I are looking for little cuttlefish because that’s what we always do in shallow, sandy pools. We won’t find any, but that never matters. Whatever turns up will be the best thing ever.

It can take a while to get your eye in, but seemingly empty rock pools are full of life.

Although the pools look deserted, I know they’re not. I stand still in the water and am reminded of games of ‘Grandmother’s Footsteps’ in the playground. There are flickers of movement at the edges of my vision, yet each time I look towards them there is nothing but clear water covering smooth sand.

A dragonet is the first creature to break cover, gliding noiselessly in short bursts. Every time the fish stops swimming, my eyes struggle to make out its triangular, small-mouthed head or slender tail against the sand. Only the orange glint of its eyes, which protrude from the top of its head like a cartoon drawing, give the dragonet away.

Dragonet resting on gravelly sand. Having eyes on top of its head gives it great vision of what is going on all around.

It takes me several attempts to lower my camera into the water. The fish darts away at the slightest disturbance. Even close-up, the wavy blue patches and dark saddle patterns on the fish’s back blend with the colours of the sand. Sometimes I take a photo and realise afterwards that the fish isn’t in it.

The sand in the pool is pock-marked with tiny craters. Keeping my camera in the water I wait for the creators of this miniature battlefield to reveal themselves. After a few moments, I am rewarded with a frantic jet of sand shooting out of the bed of the pool to my left. Another erupts to my right.

Zooming in to the source of the sand-flinging I can see a solitary common shrimp, digging like an eager puppy, throwing sand out in every direction as it sinks deeper into the pit it has made.

A minute later, it moves on to another spot and resumes its endeavours. All around me, other shrimps are digging in earnest to find food. If I move at all, they fling sand over themselves until only their googly eyes are still visible.

Small, brilliantly camouflaged, gobies also flit about the pool, occasionally photo-bombing my attempts to photograph the shrimps. These may be sand gobies or common gobies; it takes close examination to separate the two species and they have no plans to stay still for long enough.

Brown shrimp – and a young green shore crab (bottom right)

We follow the tide, pulled ever further out through the pools by our curiosity, exploring under rocks and among the seaweed until we are at the seaward edge of the rocks. In the summer we snorkelled just a few metres from here at mid-tide, seeing small spotted catsharks, wrasse and comb jellies over the seagrass and kelp.

Kelp provides a wonderful habitat for other species, including this sea mat bryozoan (Membranipora membranacea).

Membranipora membranacea – even closer-up showing the rectangular autozooids and feeding tentacles extended.

Junior finds a south-clawed hermit crab (Diogenes pugilator) that has been washed in by a wave. We place it in a more sheltered spot and it has disappeared in seconds, burrowing into the soft sand.

Diogenes pugilator hermit crabs have a very long left claw.

By this point my hair is soaked from putting my head close to the dripping-wet seaweed that hangs over the rock faces, looking into every nook and cranny. I can see that Junior is plastered head to toe in sand from building a huge tide fort. It’s a happy sort of look. In any case, there’s nobody here to judge us apart from some whistling oystercatchers and they are too busy impaling limpets to worry about us.

Short video of brown shrimp, sea spider and hermit crab in action.

Crawling up to a small overhang with my chin almost touching the sand, I lift the fringe of sea lettuce aside and meet today’s surprise. A large, amber eye, as big as my own, is looking back at me.

It belongs to a sharp-nosed brown fish whose body is hidden by the deep, dark hollow beneath the rock. I move my own nose back a little from its long, sharp jaw.

If this is what I think it is, that body will be long and the jaws contain a powerful set of teeth that make it an efficient predator.

Junior knows I only call him away from his work when there’s something truly exciting to see and I am massively excited. I’m pretty sure this is the first conger eel we have ever found on the shore.

Do-do-do…. Conger eel under an overhang exposed by the low tide.

For a moment, we wonder if it is alive. There is hardly any water under the overhang and the fish doesn’t move. I sloosh some water from the pool through the gap in the rock and the fish repositions its head to take in the oxygen. The tide is already on the turn so it will be fine.

I take a couple of photos, pour some more water into the overhang and leave our fish-friend in peace.

It’s a good thing there is no-one to see the pair of us, covered in sand, dripping wet, dancing and singing our way back off the beach with the waves at our heels. It isn’t most people’s idea of a beach party and the pun is terrible, but we couldn’t care less.

“Do-do-do. Come on and do the conger!”

Happy New Year! Here’s to all of you who have done your bit to help wildlife and make the world a better place in 2021.

With thanks to the experts on Facebook groups who confirmed I was correct in my feeling that the fish looked ‘congerish’.

Some other finds from this expedition…

Sea slug! The first time I have found Palio nothus in this location. This nudibranch slug has wonderful tall helter-skelter rhinophores on its head and a circlet of fluffy gills on its back.

‘Kelp fir’. Obelia geniculata hydroids on the kelp, looking like a wintery forest.

A sea spider – probably Nymphon sp. Look at the little spidery shadow it’s casting on my hand.

Whatever the weather, always stay safe in the rock pools. Follow my rockpooling tips to look after yourself and the wildlife on the shore.

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Anemones and Jellyfish, Fish, Uncategorized, Wildlife

Who Needs Mythical Beasts? Rocket Jellies, Snakelocks Anemones and a Dragonet

September 5, 2021 Heather Buttivant 1 Comment

When my son was younger he thought he saw a kraken. I returned from releasing a crab after an event for the local Cub pack to find him and a friend staring out over the sea, shading their eyes to better spot tentacle tips or unusual splashes among the waves. They were quite sure it was out there.

I watched with them for a long time, until the tide was lapping at our boots, because you never know what might be in the sea. A giant squid would be unusual, but our oceans are full of things that are so weird we are only just beginning to understand them. We sometimes see seals, dolphins and fish feeding frenzies, so why not a kraken?

Since then, my son has grown up a lot and is less sure that there are krakens in Looe. We no longer spend much time hiding in the woods looking for dragons or watching the waves for sea serpents. Junior still loves mythology, Cornish and otherwise, but knows that the real world has as much strangeness as fiction.

We are two minutes into this week’s rock pool expedition when he calls to me urgently to look at a thing he’s found.

“I think it’s a hydroid medusa,” he says, because there’s not much he doesn’t recognize these days. “Quick, it’s going to get away.”

I grab a pot and wade over to where he is pointing. Staring into the tangle of colourful seaweeds, at first I see nothing.

A flicker of movement has me scooping up the water and when I look in my pot there is a tiny creature zipping from side to side, throwing itself against the edges of the pot like a trapped Trogglehumper. Of course, this creature is not a Roald Dahl creation, but an actual, fabulous marine animal. My books call it a ‘root arm jelly’, although Junior and I know it by a different name.

Whoosh! A rocket jelly. (Cladonema radiatum – aka the root arm jelly).

“Rocket jelly!” we shriek in delight.

With great care, we transfer the jelly into the lid of the pot to see it better.

The underside of the hydroid medusa (*Cladonema radiatum* – the root arm jelly)

The main part of its body, measuring less than a centimetre, is a perfectly transparent dome, through which we can see its rocket shaped internal parts. Pointing downwards, a mouth fringed with ball-shaped structures is feeling about, moving left and right.

The jelly’s transparent body with dark eyespots around the edge. Root arm jelly (*Cladonema radiatum*).

At the base of the medusa’s dome there are several dark eyespots. Spreading out at around them, like the fire below a rocket, are the most incredible red tentacles. They are branched, curled and almost feathery. As we watch they expand and contract, feel and reach.

Every time I focus on the medusa, it fires itself off in a new direction. Zooming from one side of the petri dish to another in an instant.

I have never seen a medusa with such expanded tentacles before, but I am sure this is the same species of ‘rocket jelly’ we have seen before (Cladonema radiatum).

Those little tentacles pack a strong sting for their size; it is an efficient little predator. I always find it hard to comprehend is that this free-swimming, speedy jelly is the reproductive stage of a colonial hydroid: an organism which lives attached to rocks or seaweed and doesn’t move from the spot.

Obelia geniculata - a hydroid known as 'sea fir'. — Hydroids like this sea fir, Obelia geniculata, live attached to seaweeds.

While Junior takes photos of the rocket jelly, I notice a young fish glide over the sand, stopping near my feet. It has mottled markings in blue, orange and brown, which look colourful and yet provide the fish with an ideal camouflage among the sand, pebbles and shell fragments. Its eyes are mounted high on its head, giving it a wide field of vision. This is the wonderfully-named dragonet.

Dragonet lying still on the sand. Despite the lovely colours, it is perfectly camouflaged.

These captivating fish have a distinctive way of swimming in short bursts across the seafloor and they have an exceptionally long first dorsal fin. Male dragonets raise this sail-like fin as part of a mating dance, which I would love to see some day! It is perhaps this display, somehow reminiscent of a frill-neck lizard opening its collar, that gives these fish their fabulous name.

The dragonet comes unusually close to my camera before scudding away over the sand, becoming invisible every time it stops.

I take some photos of another striking animal with a mythical name, which seems to abound in this pool: the snakelocks anemone. Just like the Medusa of Roman mythology, this anemone has long, green moving ‘hair’. Instead of being made of snakes, though, the anemone’s locks are its stinging tentacles. They are pretty but deadly, especially if you are a small animal, or even quite a big one. We’ve often seen crab legs hanging out the mouths of these large anemones.

Some snakelocks anemones are neon green with purple tips, while others are a muted beige colour. Out of the water, they are a sorry squidgy mess of jelly but in the pools their tentacles move and flow, sometimes with the current, sometimes reaching and grabbing for prey they have sensed.

Snakelocks anemone – some are green and some are beige.

The chug of a boat makes us look up. Unusually for this area, there is a dive boat close to the rocks. Two-by-two, people in Scuba gear pop up on the surface and clamber aboard. I wonder what they have seen and whether they have noticed the tiny rocket jellies, lurking dragonets or even the medusa-haired snakelocks anemones.

Perhaps the divers have seen the kraken as they’ve explored the sea just beyond our reach. Even if they have, we don’t feel we have missed out by being confined to the land. The rock pools are full of truly magical beasts. You just have to look.

Snakelocks tentacles waving in the current.

Fish, Wildlife

paddle–swimming And fish-whispering: Summer rock pooling in Cornwall

August 28, 2021 Heather Buttivant Leave a comment

The sun is back and, for once, it has coincided with some big tides. Beach shoes at the ready, Junior and I scramble across the rocks, the clamour of the busy beaches far behind us, heading for our local pools. With Covid levels higher than ever in Cornwall at the moment, we’re hiding away from the crowds as much as we can.

We are so used to having to put on layers, waterproofs and wellies that it feels quite decadent to be able to wander about comfortably in shorts. The water is sparkling and the sun’s reflection on my camera screen is so strong that I can’t see the image properly, even when I adjust it to maximum brightness.

I might not be able to see much at first, but the pools are full of life. We cross the rocks to a wide pool fringed with oarweed and sugar kelp. We slip and slide over thongweed and step carefully into the cool water to avoid disturbing the wildlife.

Gorgeous blue-rayed limpets are everywhere on the kelp.

A small movement reveals the presence of a well-camouflaged dragonet. Knowing how hard it is for anyone to detect it, the fish takes its time, gliding a short distance across the sand then taking a break, seeming to disappear each time it stops.

The dragonet blends in perfectly with the sand, pebbles and shells.

Among the delicate red seaweeds, there are plenty of stalked jellyfish (Haliclystus octoradiatus). Their colour range is the same as that of the seaweeds, so although they are bright and attractive, they are not easy to spot.

With every step I am getting deeper into the pool, but for once it doesn’t matter. Soon I am right in the middle, with water lapping up to my waist. A blue dragonfly zigzags past me, swooping low before turning back and disappearing towards the cliff.

I wade over to a tall rocky overhang while Junior enjoys a swim across the pool. There are several large fish flitting in and out of the kelp so I lower my camera a little at a time to see how they react. When this is successful, I decide to make the very best of the summer conditions. I pull my swim goggles on and lower my head into the water.

The fish (juvenile pollock) are stand-offish at first

There is a nursery shoal of juvenile pollock down here. They hesitate at first. Winding their slender bodies through the kelp fronds, they watch me through wide yellow-rimmed eyes.

The young pollock get ever closer to take a look at me.

I’ve always thought of pollock as a silver coloured fish, but these youngsters are golden-green with shimmering blue stripes running from their head to their tail. Their jutting bottom lip makes them look open-mouthed, mid-conversation.

Hello fish friends! The young pollock are keen to take a close look at my camera.

They are certainly a friendly bunch, swimming ever closer to the camera until their tails are brushing the lens. I have to keep lifting my head to breathe, but they don’t seem to mind.

Video: Hello fish!

After a while, I leave the pollock to talk among themselves and move on to an adjoining pool. A shoal of sand eels is patrolling here. These fish are of a more nervous disposition, turning, balling and flashing with silver at the slightest disturbance. If they spotted a predator, they would flee head-downwards, burying themselves in the sand in an instant.

I move slowly and give the sand eels space, turning my attention to the sea squirts and snails on the rocks.

An especially pretty yellow star-ascidian surrounded by pink algae and red seaweeds.

When the tide turns, Junior and I retreat to the first pool, swimming and bobbing in the water, watching butterflies tumble past and swallows circling high above. There are boats, people and a whole world out there, but, like the pollock, we are happy in our rock pool refuge.

Even the seaweeds are shining in the sun. Forkweed, Looe, Cornwall.

Whatever the weather, always stay safe in the rock pools. Follow my rockpooling tips to look after yourself and the wildlife on the shore.

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Beaches, Fish

West Cornwall Adventures

April 24, 2019 Heather Buttivant 11 Comments

You’re never far from a beach in Cornwall, but the distances from one end of the county to the other mean I visit some beaches more often than others. I made the most of a recent trip ‘out west’ visiting friends to explore the Penzance area.

Although Mount’s Bay itself is a protected area and is best left undisturbed, there are plenty of fabulous rock pools to discover near the town and at nearby Mousehole.

The wealth of colourful seaweeds here makes the clear waters especially enticing. Stepping carefully among them, I found clingfish, shark egg cases and an abundance of stalked jellyfish.

A small species of clingfish hides among the coral weed near Penzance.

A Calvadosia cruxmelitensis stalked jellyfish near Penzance. The diverse seaweeds of the Mounts Bay area provide a perfect habitat for a variety of stalked jellyfish species.

Star ascidians formed a psychedelic wallpaper of turquoise and pastel blue petal patterns along some deep overhangs. Close by, another star ascidian colony painted the rocks in saffron yellow.

The delicate colours of this star ascidian blew me away. It comes in so many colour morphs, but this one was new to me.

More of the wonderful pastel-blue star ascidian, looking like an impressionist flower painting.

Shouts carried across the shallow waters. My friends had found something exciting: a newly-hatched baby catshark. This young greater-spotted catshark, also known as a bull huss or nursehound, had spent many months incubating in an egg case before emerging. When fully grown it could be over one-and-a-half metres, but for now it lay quietly in the tub, taking in the world through half-closed eyes. We returned it quickly to the shelter of the dense seaweed where it would soon be covered by the rising tide.

A cat shark egg case with a young greater-spotted catshark developing inside — Egg case with a young greater-spotted catshark developing inside

Hatchling greater-spotted catshark, which we kept for a minute before returning it safely exactly where it was found.

As the days begin to lenthen noticeably I hope this is the first of many forays to new and more distant beaches over the course of the summer. No matter how many times I visit the rock pools, there is always something new.

If you’re looking for some summer reading, my book Rock Pool: Extraordinary Adventures Between the Tides is out on 2nd May with September Publishing and is available at local book shops, Waterstones and through NHBS as well as through online retailers.

Another species of stalked jellyfish - Haliclystus octoradiatus - near Penzance — Another species of stalked jellyfish – Haliclystus octoradiatus – near Penzance

A beautifully marked pheasant shell near Penzance, Cornwall

Fish, Starfish, Urchins and Sea Cucumbers

Birthday Rock Pooling

March 27, 2019 Heather Buttivant 3 Comments

It’s that time of year again. Amazing spring tides, ideal conditions and, of course, it coincides with Other Half’s birthday. Lucky him! What else could he possibly want to do but come rock pooling? To be fair, he needs no persuading that it beats a day in the office and, as a birthday treat, I offer him an evening out afterwards – watching me give a talk at the Cornwall Marine Recorders’ event in Gwithian (with a bar and nibbles).

We pile into the car ridiculously early in the morning to make sure we make it to Prisk Cove in time to meet our lovely friends and their twins to explore as the tide rolls out.

This beach is a little off the beaten track, but worth the walk. We find it empty of people and the tide so far out that the kelp hangs limply in shallow pockets of water in the bay.

The beach’s sheltered position between the Helford and Falmouth Bay, combined with the huge numbers of loose boulders, makes this habitat perfect for many marine species. Despite his initial certainty that he won’t find anything, Junior’s friend is first to find a spiny starfish. Its long tapering arms set with thick spines have an attractive purple hue.

Spiny starfish at Prisk Cove near Falmouth

We watch its many tentacle feet reaching out to explore the rocks.

The asymmetric heads of flat fish always intrigue me, so I am delighted when we find the first little topknot, then more and more of them. Some are sticking to the rocks, even clinging on when completely upside down, using their fringing fins to mould themselves to bumps and imperfections in the surface. Their mottled patterns can make them hard to spot and they stay completely still to avoid detection.

Flatfish like this topknot have their mouth set on one side of their head.

Under a large rock we find a large edible crab that makes the other twin shriek. She soon overcomes her nerves when I move it out of the way so that we can look at the fish, which are also sheltering here.

Everyone crowds round to see the stunning colours and impressive headgear of the tompot blenny, and the kids are amazed by the smoothness of the rockling’s eel-like skin.

Other Half holds the edible crab for a quick birthday photo before we pop everything back where we found it.

Out among the furthest accessible rocks, the twins’ mum is not being outdone. She brings some fish over to show me, among them a beautiful goldsinny wrasse. It’s not a fish I often see on the shore, but it is easily identified by its two dark spots, one at the front of its dorsal fin and the other at the top of its tail.

It has wide orange eyes with a flash of blue and the wonderful pouting lips of the wrasse family.

Goldsinny wrasse - a beautifully coloured fish — Goldsinny wrasse – a beautifully coloured fish

The finds flood in and I struggle to keep up with taking photos of everything to ensure that I can submit records afterwards. On one area of the shore I find a large patch of Wakame.

Wakame stipes

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

This invasive non-native seaweed is easily identified by its corrugated-looking stipe and thin, floppy fronds. Originating from China, Japan and Korea, it has spread widely in Europe and can out-compete native seaweeds.

White painted top shells, an improbably hairy purse sponge and an interesting anemone all catch my eye before the tide turns.

An especialy hairy purse sponge - presumably just a variant of Sycon ciliatum — An especialy hairy purse sponge – presumably just a variant of Sycon ciliatum

Painted top shells are usually pink, but this beach had many of the white variety

I also discover half a dozen shark eggcases of the Greater spotted catshark (Scyliorhinus stellaris) attached to the rainbow wrack of the lower shore pools.

When it is in the water, Rainbow wrack is wonderfully iridescent

All too soon it seems, the tide is flowing in. At first it is a faint current, but it turns quickly into a churning river through the tight gullies and we retreat to enjoy a birthday picnic.

A lovely little Lamellaria snail, likely Lamellaria latens

Limacia clavigera sea slug at Prisk Cove

An especially small anemone growing on rainbow wrack.

Anemones and Jellyfish, Fish

A summer of snorkels, jellyfish and wrasse

September 8, 2018 Heather Buttivant Leave a comment

On a summer’s day when the sea and the sky are a matching blue and the whole world sparkles, there’s nothing as inviting as donning a snorkel and taking a swim across the bay. This summer, for the first time, Junior joined me in my forays over the rocky reefs.

While he built up experience, we floated shoulder to shoulder and sculled our way over the waving seaweed to the deeper gullies.

On our third snorkel outing, I was enjoying the sun on my back and the gentle roll of the waves when Junior screamed down his snorkel. I grabbed his arm in case he was hurt, but he was frantically pointing and making the “fish’”sign with his hand. He had just seen his first ballan wrasse.

The fish was a full-sized adult, maybe 40 or 50cm long with a thick body and a criss-cross patterns of lines interspersed with pale blue spots. An impressive fish. Undeterred by Junior’s shriek of excitement, it carried on its slow, hovering path through the kelp-lined gully for a while before darting away as we neared.

Juvenile ballan wrasse can be bright green like this one, but they grow up to around 50cm long when they're mature. — Juvenile ballan wrasse can be bright green like this one, but they grow up to around 50cm long when they’re mature.

On the same venture, we spotted barnacles feeding with their feathery legs, shore crabs strolling along the sea floor, a shanny surveying its territory from the top of a rock and great glistening shoals of sand eels rolling by. On other days, we came across groups of corkwing wrasse with pouting lips and turquoise-striped faces, spider crabs lurching through the kelp, and tangled snakelocks anemones spreading their green tentacles.

Nearby, crowds of tourists paddled and swam, oblivious to the beauty below them (or the pinching claws and stinging tentacles near their feet).

This summer has seen waves of jellyfish drifting through, from comb jellies to the harmless moon jelly, the less harmless blue and compass jellies and the enormous barrel jellies. Some days the sea was thick with jellyfish, but this didn’t stop Junior from mastering the art of catching waves on his bodyboard or wiping out headfirst into the blue-jelly-soup. He swam for the shore in a hurry on one of our snorkel safaris though, when a compass jelly brushed over my face and stung my back.

Compass jellies have striking markings and also pack a nettle-like sting

I have almost no photos of our snorkelling expeditions this year. Next year, when Junior is more confident, I’ll be able to carry a camera, but this season we just revelled in the perfect days and soaked up the sun . As we knew it would, the summer ended abruptly, dissipating like a mirage from one day to the next and the water is no longer so inviting.

For now, we are hanging up our snorkels and returning to the rock pools, exchanging beach shoes for wellies as the autumn chill moves in, but there is everything to look forward to. A week of Shoresearch surveys starts tomorrow in Looe, which is guaranteed to bring new finds and lots of species records for Cornwall Wildlife Trust.

The empty beaches make this a wonderful time of year to explore the rock pools and before we know it, the first of the autumn storms will blast in, washing who knows what onto our shores. Watch this space!

Between the snorkel trips, I did squeeze in some rock pooling. Here are some of my favourite photos from the summer.

Candy striped flatworm grazing on bryozoans in Looe

A variegated scallop with irridescent shining eyes

A green shore urchin with its tentacle feet extended

Doris ocelligera sea slug - I recorded these for the first time a couple of months ago and have found them regularly in the same spot this summer. — Doris ocelligera sea slug – I recorded these for the first time a couple of months ago and have found them regularly in the same spot this summer.

St Piran's hermit crab - now a common find on all our local beaches. — St Piran’s hermit crab – now a common find on all our local beaches.

Beaches, Fish

Friendly Fish at Kynance Cove

June 20, 2018 Heather Buttivant 3 Comments

A day at Kynance Cove on the Lizard Peninsula has become a fixture in the Cornish Rock Pools calendar. The smooth, serpentine cliffs don’t create many hiding places for marine life, but Junior loves the geology and caves. There are always creatures to see too if you look carefully enough, so I take the opportunity to relax in the sun, staring at fish through the clear water.

There’s one pool in particular that I like to visit here. It is more like an aquarium than any other I’ve found; just deep enough to house a whole community of small blennies and always buzzing with life.

Watching fish at Kynance Cove with Junior (photo by Other Half)

The funny thing is that, while I stare in, the fish stare back, creeping closer up the sides, over pink encrusting algae and through fronds of the Corallina seaweed to secure a better view. Bold young shannies, prop themselves up on their two-pronged pectoral fins, swivelling their colourful clown eyes to observe me.

Being watched... a young shanny (common blenny) edges up the side of the pool to take a look at me. Kynance Cove, Lizard, Cornwall. — Being watched… a young shanny (common blenny) edges up the side of the pool to take a look at me. Kynance Cove, Lizard, Cornwall.

In the far corner of the pool, a Montagu’s blenny pops up to say hello. It’s easily recognisable by its pronged head tentacle, which looks like a tiny Christmas tree.

If you’d like to know how to identify rock pool fish, take a look at ‘What Fish Have I Found?’

The Montagu's blenny almost gets out of the water to take a look at me. Kynance Cove, Cornwall. — The Montagu’s blenny almost gets out of the water to take a look at me. Kynance Cove, Cornwall.

The surrounding rocks are covered in barnacles, which suits these fish well. The Montagu’s blenny likes nothing better than to nibble the feeding legs off barnacles.

I soon start to doubt that this fish is just curious. Unlike the shannies, which are just juveniles, this Montagu’s blenny is full size and sports a fine pattern of turquoise spots on his body. It is the male blenny’s job to guard the eggs, and this fish is taking no prisoners.

This bold Montagu's blenny has striking blue spots and a dark stripe through its eye. — This bold Montagu’s blenny has striking blue spots and a dark stripe through its eye.

He seems determined to chase me out of his territory, repeatedly headbutting my camera. He may only be 7cm long, but I have a feeling that if I put a finger in the water he won’t hesitate to take me on with his sharp little teeth.

Blennies' thick lips make them look like they're smiling, but this Montagu's blenny just wants to attack my camera! — Blennies’ thick lips make them look like they’re smiling, but this Montagu’s blenny just wants to attack my camera!

The hard rock becomes uncomfortable to lie on after a while, digging into my legs, but I try not to change position. The fish will scatter if I make any sudden movement or noise. Half a dozen shannies are darting around the bottom of the pool, while others are basking in shallow grooves at the edge. The Montagu’s blenny doesn’t take his eye off my camera.

I watch him until the tide turns and the waves begin to sweep in. This may not be the most diverse rock pooling beach, but the fish are a joy to watch and it’s a wonderful spot to while away a sunny morning before enjoying a pasty in the café. Summer starts here!

Kynance Cove - always a hit! — Kynance Cove – always a hit!

Anemones and Jellyfish, Fish

A close (enough) encounter with Weever fish.

October 12, 2017 Heather Buttivant 5 Comments

We’re on a stomp about the beaches between Looe and Seaton, enjoying a patch of sunshine. “Watch out for Portuguese Man O’War jellies,” I warn Junior as we cross the muddy sand at Millendreath. I know there have been reports of them washing up all around the south west coast over the last few weeks, but there are none today. Inevitably, it’s something else that nearly gets me.

In a sandy pool at the sea’s edge, a flicker of movement catches my eye. It happens so quickly I can’t be sure there’s anything there but the sand is settling, suggesting something has just buried itself.

I call Junior over to look and I crouch low, reaching a hand to the water’s surface. If I can scoop the sand up from underneath I might be able to gently lift out the creature. Having seen plenty of well-camouflaged dragonets scooting about the pools today, I expect this to be another one. I stop short and stare into the shimmering pool.

Dragonets, especially the females, are perfectly camouflaged on sand.

It’s a good call. You never know what might be lurking in the rock pools. Near where I saw the movement is a sandy coloured lump. I think I recognise the shape, but it’s only when I lower my camera into the water and zoom right in that I can be sure. A Lesser weever-fish is staring down my lens, its frog-mouth gaping slightly, the rest of its body buried in the sand. Before I can take a shot it’s gone. Continue reading A close (enough) encounter with Weever fish. →

Conservation, Fish, Volunteering

Giants of the Cornish rock pools

August 31, 2017 Heather Buttivant 1 Comment

Last week I shared with you the miniature world of the sea slugs, so this week I’ll super-size things and bring you some big fish. Silly-season reports of Great-white sharks often hit the headlines in Cornwall, but I prefer rock-pool giants; they’re not made up, and you can get close to them without having your leg bitten off!

Cornwall is brilliant in all sorts of ways, our network of local, grassroots marine conservation groups being just one of them. The public launch, last week, of the new Three Bays Wildlife Group brought experts and volunteers together and gave me a chance to explore some new beaches in the St Austell area.

Judging by the squeals of excitement from the children and adults alike, the crabs, pipefish, prawns and anemones we found at the main rockpool ramble on Portmellon beach near Mevagissey went down well. By the end of the day, the local group had recruited lots of potential new volunteers.

Green shore urchin at Portmellon beach - adorned in seaweed — Green shore urchin adorned in seaweed. Portmellon beach.

Continue reading Giants of the Cornish rock pools →

Anemones and Jellyfish, Crabs, prawns and lobsters, Fish

Wrasse and wrack

July 13, 2017 Heather Buttivant Leave a comment

The Cornish summers are anything but predictable. One day I’m sweltering in shorts and beach shoes and the next I’m shivering in waders and a thick jumper. Although the showers are back with a vengeance, there’s always something to be found if I can make it across the rocks without breaking an ankle.

My first outing is to the rocks beyond East Looe beach and I’m pleased to come across a new colony of St Piran’s hermit crabs on the mid-shore.

A St Piran's hermit crab starting to emerge from its shell. — A St Piran’s hermit crab starting to emerge from its shell.

They’re becoming a familiar sight around Cornwall and I’m starting to recognise them from the tips of their red legs, before their chequerboard eyes and equal-sized claws emerge from their shells. Continue reading Wrasse and wrack →