Tag Archives: Millendreath

Starfish and Blue-Rayed Limpets on a gloomy day

The clocks have gone back, endless bands of rain are pushing in from the grey sea and the UK government has announced there will be a general election during the festive season. It might be easier to hide under a duvet and attempt hibernation, but Junior and I have other plans. We grab a camera each and race to the rock pools in search of brightness and sparkle.

To the rock pools!

Millendreath beach near Looe is cold enough to warrant silly winter hats – mine has big ear flaps and Junior’s is a Christmas pudding – we don’t care what we look like as long as we’re comfortable. We head out onto a rocky outcrop that gives us some shelter from the north-easterly winds and begin our search. When I find a spiny starfish twice the size of my hand in the first pool we come to, we know it’s going to be a good day.

Junior takes a look at the tube feet on the underside of the spiny starfish.

Moving towards the sea, the gullies are full of leathery kelp and Junior knows just what to look for. The iridescent blue dashed lines on the shells of blue-rayed limpets are his favourite thing to photograph and at this time of year, some of the kelp is studded with these miniature jewels.

Blue rayed limpets on kelp – photo by Cornish Rock Pools Junior.

While Junior gets to work trying to capture these colours, I edge along the slippery rocks towards a tall overhang. Sponges and sea squirts coat the rocks in a huge range of hues from pinks and yellows to blues and greens. Among them are cowries, which feed on the sea squirts. One has abseiled down from the rock and is hanging by its mucous thread.

This Arctic cowrie has abseiled from the top of the rock and is still holding on to its thread of mucus.
A pair of Arctic cowries with their shells partly covered by their dark-striped mantles.

Nearby, a common starfish is trying to hide in a crevice but its bright orange colour gives it away. In the dark behind it, a Xantho hydrophilus crab is doing a better job of blending in.

A bright star on a gloomy day – common starfish at Millendreath.
Xantho hydrophilus crab hiding in a crevice.

For some reason the painted top shells here are paler than on those on our other local beaches and some are almost white. Another feature of this beach is the high population of sea cucumbers. We spot both the sea gherkin and the brown sea cucumber, but they are closed up today, hiding their frilly tentacles.

A pale and beautifully marked painted top shell.
Brown sea cucumber (centre) mostly hidden in a crevice, surrounded by sponges and other encrusting animals.

Just before we move out of this isolated gully, Junior shouts in delight. He has taken his best ever photo of a blue-rayed limpet. All the practice and patience has paid off.

Junior’s best blue-rayed limpet photo.
He’s also captured me at work in my natural habitat!

As the tide turns we take a quick look for stalked jellyfish. At this time of year, the seaweed is dying back making it easier to spot them, but the rushing currents from the stormy sea and the large amount of sediment that has been stirred up by the waves aren’t aiding our search. There are probably scores of stalked jellies here as the location is perfect for them, but we only see half a dozen. Among them are three different species: Calvadosia cruxmenlitensis, Haliclystus octoradiatus and a rather sorry-looking closed up specimen of Calvadosia campanulata.

This Calvadosia campanulata stalked jellyfish has (hopefully) seen better days!
The only Haliclystus octoradiatus stalked jellyfish we find is being thrown around in the current, but the white blobs of its primary tentacles can be clearly seen in this photo.
Most of the stalked jellyfish we see today are the ‘Maltese cross’ stalked jelly – Calvadosia cruxmelitensis.
Calvadosia cruxmelitensis stalked jelly with lots of white spots – these spots are clusters of the stinging cells (nematocysts).

Junior spends a happy half hour watching the cracking cliffs of sand that have formed around the edges of the rain-swollen stream, until the incoming tide begins to send waves up the river, flooding the sand around us and forcing us back.

The first spots of drizzle spatter down and will soon be followed by yet more heavy rain. There’s nothing we can do to prevent the arrival of even shorter days or colder weather, but whenever we need to find colour and inspiration during the dark winter, we will know where to find it.

Berthella plumula sea slug
A breadcrumb sponge with microalgae growing inside the green parts.
Star ascidian
A tortoiseshell limpet surrounded by pink encrusting seaweed.

Happy rock pooling!

Huge thanks to everyone who has shared their finds and photos with me. I love hearing about your rock pooling adventures through my contact page.

A close (enough) encounter with Weever fish.

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.
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.