|
|
|
||
 |
 |
 |
||
|
||||
Swimming Crinoids
July 19, 2000
 |
|
|
|
|
For the past six days we have again been blessed with calm seas and light winds, and thus we have been in the water every day. Donna Schroeder was the first to explore the “Footprint,” and reported back from 400 feet [122 meters] that she was seeing “lots of rockfish—several kinds—but mostly juveniles.” As in other areas from Monterey to the Channel Islands, we have encountered few large adults of any rockfish. If places in the ocean such as this natural nursery are designated as refuges where the young can mature and reproduce undisturbed, it makes sense that this should result in more rockfish for the future. “It’s not just a great place for fish,” Donna told us when she returned. “Wait until you see the video I have of crinoids—dancing!”
Crinoids, ancient relatives of starfish and sea urchins, look a lot like a fistful of feathers or bizarre flowers. Some are stalked, others perch on the bottom, lightly holding on with bristly hooks. Generally, they are called “sea lilies” or “feather stars,” and all share with other echinoderms a distinctive five-part radial symmetry. A few days later, when I had a chance to dive on the Footprint, it seemed that I had landed in a garden, an enormous field of rocks and boulders crowned with hundreds of orange, yellow and alabaster white crinoids and their even fancier relatives, basket starfish. Lacy arms reached into the plankton-rich water, trapping small crustaceans and other minute creatures. Some swayed, others furled and unfurled their arms, but all stayed firmly fastened to their particular rock. Donna witnessed something else—first one, then another, waving their arms then lifting off and swimming gracefully into the water column. Looking at her videotapes, we found ourselves humming tunes to accompany what appeared to be a grand subsea waltz.
— Sylvia A. Earle
Project Director
Sustainable Seas Expeditions
[Note: nationalgeographic.com does not research or copyedit dispatches.]