Not-so-perfect housekeeping

 I do clean my aquarium. I really do. I scrub the walls every week with a toothbrush and a green dish scrubber (not metal, because it scratches the glass). I change the water and clean out old algae and vacuum up leftover foodstuffs. And scrub those walls.

But there's always a corner I miss, hidden behind an anemone I don't want to pester, or buried in sand that a crab just piled up in her everlasting building project. And whatever I want to look at always seems to hide right behind the messy corner.

I was watching a big, fat, shiny worm gobbling shrimp pellets, waiting for him to come within camera range (and he never did), and stopped to take a photo of a limpet eating, instead.

In the algae-infested corner, of course.

So frustrating!

I usually delete these photos if I can't clean them up, but I kept this one, as is. The limpet is eating the algae; that's why she's in that corner.

There are at least three species of algae growing here. First, those brownish spots. These grow really fast; within a week they'll cover all the walls of the tank. Several species of algae grow as crusts or microscopic dots; these are among them.

Then there's the brighter green algae; these look like the beginnings of sea lettuce.

And the small red spots: several red algae species grow in two stages. Turkish washcloth, Mastocarpus sp. for example, is a crust in one generation, and the next generation grows as a large, lumpy, towel-like blade. These slow-growing red spots may be Turkish washcloth. They have also colonized the water pump, and are very hard to scrape off.

The limpet isn't the only one eating algae; white spots are probably copepods; there's a larger one inside the shell of the limpet, wagging its tail. Good eating here, it says!

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Cada semana limpio el acuario. De veras, sí que lo limpio. Friego las paredes con un cepillo de dientes y un estropajo verde (no de metal, pues estos dejan marcas en el vidrio). Cambio el agua y saco algas viejas y aspiro restos de comida. Y pulo esas paredes.

Sin embargo, siempre se me escapa una esquinita, tal vez fuera de mi alcance tras una anémona que no quiero molestar, o cubierta de arena apilada por una cangrejita en su perenne afán de construirse escondites. Y luego, cualquier cosa que quiero mirar parece estar protegida atrás de esa esquina olvidada.

Estaba observando un gusano gordo y brilloso que se tragaba unas bolitas de camarón, esperando a que se acercara para que le sacara una foto, lo que nunca hizo, y lo dejé para tomar una foto de una lapa, que sí se presentaba a la vista. Pero, por cierto, en esa esquina llena de algas.

Casi siempre borro estas fotos, si es que no se pueden limpiar. Pero me quedé con esta, tal como está. La lapa está comiendo el alga; por eso se metió allí.

Hay por lo menos tres especies de alga que crecen aquí. En primer lugar, todas esas manchas cafés. Estas crecen rapidamente; dentro de una semana, cubrirán todas las paredes del tanque. Hay varias especies de alga que crecen como puntitos microscópicos, entre ellas, esas manchas.

Y luego hay unas hojitas de alga de un verde más vivo; parecen ser plantitas de lechuga marina, Ulva sp.

Y los puntitos rojos: varias especies de alga roja hacen el ciclo de vida en dos etapas. La toallita turka, Mastocarpus sp., por ejemplo, es una costra en la primera generación, y en la siguiente crece como una hoja grande con protuberancias, algo así como una toalla. Estas manchitas rojas en el tanque bien pueden ser la toallita turka. También se han metido a la bomba de agua, y son muy difíciles de quitar.

La lapa no es la única que está comiendo algas; los puntitos blancos probablemente serán copépodos. Hay uno más grande dentro de la concha de la lapa, meneando la cola. ¡Buen provecho!

Good travellers

Here's how moving day went for my little community of intertidal critters. First, a new shipment of eelgrass and sea lettuce arrived, a double load; the tank was packed all the way from the surface to the sand underneath. That was fun; a wonderfully complicated labyrinth to play on for a couple of days.

Then, the water disappeared. Like water-changing day, except that the hermits weren't transferred to a bowl and given treats of shrimp or fish. And the water didn't come back. But the eelgrass and sea lettuce were still wet, so that helped.

And then things got weird. For half a day, there was a constant rumble and vibration, frequent joltings and sloshings of wet sand. And they couldn't see anything; someone had covered their home with a dark green roof. (Just a towel, to keep the ice packs in place and the road pollution out.)

And then, light! The roof came off, there was a bit more jolting and tipping, and then the blessed water came back.

And all was well.

A few minutes later, as I was adjusting the pump, a hermit came to the front of the tank, and stood looking at me for a long time.

"Is it over? Are you going to take care of us again?'

And then, as if reassured, he turned and went looking for something to eat.

And all survived the journey, and seem to be happier here. Maybe it's the water; although I filtered the Lower Mainland water, let it sit a few days, and then added a chlorine remover, it still may have been slightly off. Campbell River water actually tastes good.

I worry about the lone sand dollar; they so often die early in the tank, or maybe it's because I pick them up from the sand while they are already dying. This one seems ok, but was losing a few of his spines. Now, he's out and around, roaming, spines going busily, pushing him on his way. This afternoon, I saw him climbing over a discarded snail shell; I didn't know they could do that!

And two of the leafy hornmouth snails spent this afternoon mating. Life is good, they say, "Let's make babies!"

The tank and all

It's not a pretty sight.

I've been asked, several times, to post photos of my entire tank and setup, so here they are, with some notes on contents and operation.

Once upon a time, I got a book on tank decoration and studied it carefully. Unfortunately, my critters can't read. And they have their own standards of what's proper, besides. Anything I arrange, they manage to undo overnight. The hermits swing on the eelgrass, bear it down to the sand. The crabs overturn shells and rocks and uproot the vegetation. Worms collect things and glue them together in knots.

So I've aimed, instead, at comfort; what makes my critters happy? And like children with a room full of toys, all on the floor, they like a mess.

The tank as it was a week ago. A Mother Hubbard week.

(Warning: long post. Details, details. If they'll bore you, scroll down to the bottom before you leave.)

I fill the tank with eelgrass, and the hermits swarm all over it for a few days, until they reduce it to half the amount. Then they gradually eat away at it until there are only a few blades left and I go back to the beach for more.

The tank is a small one, approximately 20 inches by 10 by 2 high. It holds 10 gallons of water, full to the top. (Which I never do, because the snails like a patch of bare wall to sleep on.)

I loaded it with eelgrass last week. Yesterday, I changed the water again (I do this weekly) and re-planted what remains of the eelgrass. I should have taken a photo then, but I was tired and put it off. In the morning, the eelgrass had all been plastered down to the bottom.

As it was this afternoon. I see they've knocked the abalone shell on its back. A crab's doing, probably.

I numbered some of the contents to identify them for you.

Numbers in red. You may want to click on this for a full-size view.

• #1 is an abalone shell that has been in the tank since the beginning. All my critters love it, for climbing, for sitting, for hiding under the lip, or for privacy, burrowing down behind it. It looks bare in the photo, but there's a green shore crab under the lip, a family of anemones on the floor, one on top, and a few hermits wandering about. The mottled starfish is sleeping on the back.
• #2; A clamshell loaded with barnacles that I brought back for the leafy hornmouth snail. Most of the barnacles have been eaten, but the other critters love the empty barnacle cases, so I've left it to them.
• #3: You can't see it, but a purple sand dollar buried himself here last night.
• #4: A stone with barnacles. The starfish eat these, too. When it's done, I'll remove it.
• #5: The pump/filter intake.
• #6: The pump output, always making bubbles.
• #7: Red bladed algae. It was a small leaf or two growing on a clamshell when I brought it home, and it keeps growing and growing. I've pruned it several times. Everybody climbs through this; hermits, snails, crabs, anemones, assorted worms, the shrimp (taking their colour from it.)
• #8: One of the shrimp, in the background.
• #9: That annoying white crab.
• #10: (Back up on the left) The air pump intake. The bubbler is hidden behind the abalone, making the secret cave behind it even more interesting to the animals that live back there.
• #11:(On the right again) You can barely see a hint of the big burrowing anemone back here. Whenever I move her to a more visible spot, she moves right back.
• #12: Eelgrass, all plastered down.
• #13: The last shred of green sea lettuce. I haven't found any on the beach for a while. Mostly the crabs and a few of the worms eat this.

All the rocks and shells and greenery change position constantly, and are removed as they wear out or rot away. The only permanent part of the whole shebang are the pump, the air bubbler, and the abalone shell.

Now: the whole setup, as it is today, warts and all:

Yes, that's a Van Gogh print. Just because.

I've had the tank in various locations, but finally moved it to the kitchen counter to be near the fridge and water. It would be nice to have a separate space for it; a laundry room or garage, but that's not in the cards. So here it is; it works for me and the critters.

Around it are the lights; a 100-watt spot overhead, moveable. LED lights on the side and overhead. An LED gooseneck lamp for highlighting what needs to be seen. There's a flashlight in the cupboard above, for midnight checks. The rest of the lights are on timers.

While the hot weather lasts, I keep a fan on all the time, to help keep things cool. (That's also the reason I don't use normal fish-tank lights; they're too close, and they shut in the heat.)

Behind the fan are a couple of little pots holding tools: an eyedropper, tweezers, toothbrushes, paintbrush (for catching delicate tinies), a thermometer.

Behind everything is a big mirror, mostly to hide the tangle of wires, and also to add some backup light. It always gets spattered with salt blow-back from the pump.

The air pump is in the cupboard overhead. So are all the containers, food, microscope, trays, salinity meters, etc.

And the plastic container on the right contains two whelks and a big flatworm that came home hidden in the eelgrass or a clamshell. They are all hungry hunters, and too good at what they do. They're going home to the beach with me on the next trip. I've given them a few barnacles for meanwhile.

These are all intertidal invertebrates, and they like it cool. In this weather, and inside a house, that is difficult to manage. I keep the bottom shelf of the freezer full of containers of water. Several times a day, I put one in the tank, remove an equal amount of water, and replace it in the freezer. It works, and is less intrusive and 'way less expensive than the commercial aquarium coolers, if more time-consuming.

Periodic iceberg.

Water currents mingling; thawing saltwater ice, with warmer water.

So that's that. Any questions?

Suicidal hermit?

Life would be a lot simpler if the animals could talk. Take my small community of intertidal critters, for example. I keep a close eye on them, checking their water quality and temperature daily, making sure they're enjoying their food, they're happy and healthy. Are the hermit crabs all busy; are they waving their flags about, not fighting? Is the big anemone open for business? Are the bubble shell snails still mating? How about the leafy hornmouths; do they have enough barnacles to eat? And so on.

But if something changes, how do I know what's gone wrong?

There are currently 38 hermits in the tank. That means that every few days at least one of them molts. The usual procedure, then, is that the newly-soft hermit climbs up into the seaweed, out of the range of hungry crabs, until he hardens off. An hour or two later, he comes down again and selects a new shell, slightly larger than the last one he was wearing.

I found a mid-sized hermit in the eelgrass a few days ago. His leftover molted legs and carapace were on the weeds below.

New, fresh, clean skin and hair. Now he needs a new shell.

A few hours later, he was still on the eelgrass, still nude. That wasn't right. It's not safe; the crabs were already patrolling beneath him. A freshly-molted hermit belly is a highly-prized delicacy, and they weren't planning on missing out.

I shooed the crabs off to the other end of the tank.

Later, finding the hermit still naked, I caught him and put him in a bowl with a selection of shells. In a couple of minutes, he had selected one and climbed inside. Good! I put him back in the tank.

In the evening, there he was back up in the eelgrass, without the shell. Why? That's asking for trouble!

I found him a different assortment of shells and gave them to him in a bowl. Again, he got dressed immediately. Maybe the last shell was just a bit too small. Back in the tank.

In the morning, he was in the eelgrass, nude. The crabs were back, watching him.

Three more times, over two days, I took him out and presented him with good shells. Each time, he put on a shell, then discarded it as soon as he was back in the tank. Why, why, why? Talk to me, Hermie!

His abdomen is reddish purple; some have green bellies. The barbs at the end hold the shell in place.

Laurie said that maybe he was itchy. Maybe he'd got fleas. (Copepods and/or mites? Possible.)

Then Val, the big anemone, started shutting down, pursing her mouth disapprovingly. She does that if the water's not quite up to her taste. I've been changing it regularly; the last change was only two days before, but if there were too many mites . . .

I took everything out of the tank, scrubbed the walls (goodbye copepods) and triple-rinsed the sand. Cleaned the pump, discarded old eelgrass, scraped off invading orange-striped anemones, removed two big worms and washed off their slime. Filled the tank with new water, well chilled; replaced everything. Hermie went back last, in a nice new shell.

Fingers crossed.

Two hours later, Val was happily feeding, and Hermie was still in his shell. Tonight, he's still ok.

Yay!

The little blue anemone, on clean eelgrass. Eats hermit food; likes shrimp.

But it would have all been sorted out earlier, if he'd just thought to tell me he had an itch.