Habitat

These are some more photos from the ferry landing at Crofton. Because I liked the textures and reflections underneath the dock. Creosoted pilings, rusty chains, old wood. And the barnacles, of course.

The ocean, and the critters that live therein don't let anything go to waste. Whatever we humans put in the water gets promptly turned into habitat. 

Although creosote-treated pilings have been suspected of poisoning that habitat, in reality, these pilings are usually densely populated with a vibrant community of marine invertebrates. Barnacles and mussels are the first inhabitants, quickly followed up by anemones, starfish, shrimp, kelp crabs, assorted sponges, nudibranchs, tubeworms, and a huge variety of worms and other tiny animals. I have seen a scallop looking back at me, and once, — long ago — a large octopus climbing over the barnacles. The critters obviously know what's good for them.

Old wood, creosote, rusty metal, barnacles, mussels, and the reflected colours of a boat.

More creosoted wood, more barnacles, green wavelets.

Detail, wood grain, rust. And more barnacles.

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Aquí hay más fotos que saqué en el embarcadero en Crofton. Porque me gustaron las texturas y los reflejos bajo el muelle. Los pilotes protegidos con creosota, cadenas oxidadas, madera vieja. Y los bálanos, claro.

El mar y las criaturas que en el viven no desperdician nada. Cualquier cosa que nosotros metemos al agua la convierten en habitat.

Aunque los pilotes protegidos con creosota han sido acusados de envenenar ese habitat, en verdad forman la base de una comunidad vibrante y densamente poblada de animales invertebrados. Los primeros en establecerse son los bálanos y los mejillones, y rapidamente les siguen las anémonas, las estrellas de mar, los camarones, los cangrejos kelp, una variedad de esponjas, los nudibranquios, gusanos tubícolas, y muchos otros animalitos.  He visto, mirándome con su hilera de ojitos, una vieira. Y — hace años — un pulpo grande. Los animales bien saben lo que les sirve.

1. Cadena de metal, hierro oxidado, pilotes y otras maderas, bálanos y mejillones. Y reflejos de un barco rojo al otro lado del muelle.
2. Más madera con creosota, más bálanos y mejillones. Y olitas verdes.
3. Detalle de la madera, con hierro oxidado, y, claro, más bálanos.

About glues

 When the tide goes out, millions of little scurrying critters go into hiding, under rocks, buried in the sand, under still-damp seaweed. Limpets and chitons clamp themselves tightly to whatever they were travelling on when the water left, usually managing to get into some shade first. Snails slide into cracks and close their doors. The barnacles, the mussels, and the oysters, more than any other of the intertidal animals, have no option but to wait out the dry spell in the open, exposed to the sun and the wind. They can close their shells. But they can't hide; they're glued to the inmovable rock.

Sandstone "sculpture" with oysters.

In my aquarium, I can put a finger on a limpet on the wall and push it to one side. One push; then the limpet snaps itself down to the glass, and cannot be moved. Sheer muscle power!

Oysters and barnacles don't use their muscles to stay put; those are for closing the shell. What they rely on is glue. Their own brand of glue, quick-setting, waterproof, and strong. A barnacle's glue has an adhesive strength of 22 - 60 pounds per sq. inch. If you break off a barnacle (don't!) the animal will die, but its base will remain attached to the rock.

Oyster and barnacles on a rock. Some water still remains.

Oysters are tougher. There's no give to an oyster shell, not even when it's just the left (bottom) valve stuck to a rock after the oyster has died. With a bit of shell, you can scrape the barnacle's base off the rock; not the oyster's.

I looked up oyster glues.

... the cohesive force between the hard substratum and the shell is so strong that a cemented valve can rarely be detached without breaking the shell or the substratum. (Researchgate)

The oyster cement appears to be harder than the substances mussels and barnacles use for sticking to rocks," he said. "The adhesives produced by mussels and barnacles are mostly made of proteins, but oyster adhesive is about 90 percent calcium carbonate, or chalk. On its own, chalk is not sticky. So the key to oyster adhesion may be a unique combination of this hard, inorganic component with the remaining 10 percent of the material that is protein. (Purdue University)

Another few oysters, with barnacles and periwinkles. The red tint is the reflection of my winter jacket.

The glue is deposited only by the left valve, the one on the underside. This valve is deep and holds the living oyster inside. The right valve serves as a lid. 

Oyster and barnacles on a smaller stone. Not a good choice; this rock can roll.

First, tiny glands lay down a web of protein fibers. Next, they release a calcium paste onto the web, and it hardens like plaster. (ShapeOfLife)

"It hardens like plaster." Underwater!

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Cuando baja la marea millones de criaturas se apuran a esconderse, ya sea en la sombra de las rocas, ya sea bajo la arena, o cubiertas de algas marinas que todavía siguen húmedas. Las lapas y los quitones se adhieren fuertemente a la superficie donde andaban cuando les faltó el agua; si pueden, se buscan un poco de sombra primero. Los caracoles se esconden en grietas y cierran sus puertitas. Los bálanos, los mejillones, y los ostiones, más que cualquier de los otros animales de la intramarea, no tienen otra cosa más que aguantar la sequía sin protección del sol ni del viento secador. Pueden cerrar sus valvas. Pero no se pueden esconder; están cimentados en la roca inmóvil.

Foto #1: Una "escultura" de piedra arenisca, con ostiones.

En mi acuario, puedo poner el dedo en una lapa en la pared y moverla. Una vez. Y entonces la lapa se aprieta contra el vidrio y no se puede moverla sin matarla. ¡Fuerza muscular!

Los ostiones y los bálanos no usan los músculos para mantenerse fijos en su lugar; los músculos sirven para cerrar las valvas. Lo que usan es pegamento. Su propia marca de pegamento, de endurecimiento rápido, impermeable, y fuerte.El pegamento del bálano tiene una fuerza adhesiva desde 22 a 60 libras por cada pulgada cuadrada. Si rompes un bálano (pero no lo hagas) el animalito se morirá, pero su base permanecerá adherida a la roca.

Foto #2: Ostion y bálanos en una roca, con un poco de agua.

Los ostiones son más fuertes. No hay movimiento posible en la concha de un ostión, ni siquiera cuando todo lo que queda es la valva inferior cuando el animal ya desapareció. Con un pedazo de concha, puedes quitar la base de un bálano de la roca; no la valva inferior entera de un ostión.

Busqué los pegamentos de ostiones en el internet.

... la fuerza cohesiva entre el sustrato duro y la concha es tan fuerte que una valva cimentada raras veces se puede separar sin romper o la concha o el sustrato. (ResearchGate)

El pegamento de los ostiones parece ser más duro que las sustancias que usan los mejillones y bálanos para adherirse a las rocas — dijo. — Los adhesivos producidos por los mejillones y bálanos se componen principalmente de proteínas, pero el pegamento de los ostiones es aproximadamente el 90 por ciento carbonato de calcio, o sea caliza. De por sí, la caliza no es pegajosa. Por lo tanto, la clave que explica la adhesión de los ostiones puede ser una combinación única de esta sustancia dura, inorgánica con el otro 10 por ciento del material que es proteína. (Purdue University)

Foto #3: Algunos ostiones con bálanos y caracoles.

El pegamento es depositado por la valva inferior; esta valva es honda y aquí vive el animal. La valva superior funciona como tapa. 

Foto #4: Ostión y bálanos en un piedra chica. No fue una buena selección; la roca puede rodarse.

Primero, glándulas pequeñas producen una red de fibras de proteínas. Luego, sueltan una pasta de calcio encima de la red, y ésta se endurece como si fuera yeso. (ShapeOfLife)

"Se endurece como el yeso." ¡Y eso, bajo el agua!

Open mouth, evert foot

 It's been rainy and windy and cold all day. A good day to stay inside and watch barnacles.

Acorn barnacle fishing.

Barnacles stand on their heads inside their fortified castles, fanning their feathery feet (cirri) in the water, catching tiny fragments of food. There are 6 pairs of cirri; the first three are larger, and often the only ones seen.

The cirri also include gills, so the barnacle is breathing as well as fishing while he fans his legs through the water.

A quick sweep.

To capture these two barnacles with the cirri extended, I took 80 photos. A mouth opens, (not in the barnacle I was focussing on, usually) a hint of cirri appears. Next, maybe the mouth closes again. Maybe the cirri sweep out, vibrate for a moment, then fold back in, all in a short second. Maybe they sweep out, fold in almost too fast for the eye to capture them. They don't stick to any rhythm, and each barnacle has its own personal style.

They're faster than my shutter finger. 

In the photo above, you can also see the tentacles of a tiny anemone. At least these stay open most of the time, although they sway in the current.

The stone these barnacles sit on, with three anemones and a long-legged isopod.

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Llovió todo el dia; hubo un viento fuerte y frio. Un buen dia para quedarme en casa observando los bálanos.

Fotos: bálanos buscando su comida.

Los bálanos se paran de cabeza dentro de sus castillos fortificados, extendiendo sus piernas emplumadas (llamadas cirri) para pezcar pequeños fragmentos de comida. Hay 6 pares de estos cirri; los primeros son más grandes, y a veces son los únicos que se pueden ver.

Los cirri también contienen las branquias, así que mientras buscan su comida, también están respirando.

Para sacar estas dos fotos de bálanos en el acto de pescar, tuve que sacar 80 fotos. Una boca se abre, (pero no la del bálano que tenía enfocado, claro); se asoman unos cirri. En seguida, puede ser que la boca se vuelve a cerrar. O tal vez se extienden los cirri, vibrando por medio segundo, y se retraen. O pueden salir y desaparecer tan rapidamente que apenas los ojos llegan a verlos. Y no llevan ningún ritmo, y cada balanito tiene su propio estilo, muy personal.

Son más rápidos que mi dedo en el obturador.

En la segunda foto se ven también los tentáculos de una anémona miniatura. Estas por lo menos se mantienen abiertas por mucho tiempo, agitándose con los corrientes del agua.

La tercera foto muestra la piedra donde están fijos los bálanos, con tres anémonas y un bichito de patas largas, probablemente un isópodo.

Inside the breakwater

The breakwater at Oyster Bay is a line of large rocks, barely underwater at high tide, fully exposed only at the lowest tides. The rocks are clean, scoured by currents and wind-blown waves; barnacles crust a few of the more protected ones; here and there along the landward end patches of lichen grow on top.

At the lower tides, at the outer tip of the breakwater, I find anemones nestling in the cracks at the base. And in between rocks, in the blackest corners, there are barnacles.

I tried squinting down one of the cracks between rocks; too dark, too narrow, too hard even to get my head in position. My hand fitted, with the little pocket camera. I set it on flash and took photos blind. Here's what the camera saw.

Mussels, barnacles, limpets, green and reddish algae.

Barnacles and algae. Tar spot (Ralfsia sp. maybe?)

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El rompeolas en Oyster Bay consiste en una linea de rocas grandes amontonadas, apenas cubiertas con las mareas más altas, totalmente expuestas en las mareas bajísimas de verano. Las rocas están desnudas; las corrientes y las olas impulsadas por el viento las mantienen limpias. En algunas, más protegidas, crecen unos pocos bálanos; en el extremo más cercano a la tierra, hay manchas de líquenes.

Cuando la marea está baja, encajonadas a los pies de las rocas en el extremo exterior, encuentro anémonas. Y en las grietas aquí, se ven los bálanos.

Quise ver lo que había en las grietas oscuras entre estas rocas. Pero allí no hay luz, el sitio es demasiado angosto, no logré acercarme suficientemente. Pero cabía mi mano, llevando la cámara chica, la de bolsillo; armé el flash, y saqué fotos a ciegas. Esto es lo que vió la cámara.

Fotos: 

1. Bálanos, lapas, mejillones, con algas rojas y verdes.
2. Más bálanos, y algas. El alga negra tal vez puede ser Ralfsia sp. (mancha de chapopote).

Low tide zone littles

 Just poking around at the base of rocks at the low tide line ...

Mussels (4 alive), barnacles, and a pair of flatworms, flowing like warm honey.

Mostly barnacles. Just because.

After the heat wave, when so many mussels died, exposed to unaccustomed high temperatures as they were, I am glad to see some still surviving. Down in the lower intertidal zone, an odour of rotting sea creatures is still noticeable, but not nearly as strong as it was back in July. But there were more empty mussel shells to be seen than there were live mussels.

A bit of everything: pink-tipped green anemones, red and green algae, barnacles, limpets, a fragment of sand dollar test, and empty mussel shells.

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Examinando lo que vive a la base de las rocas en la zona intramareal baja ...

1. Mejillones (cuatro vivos), bálanos, y un par de gusanos planos, platelmintos. Estos fluyen como si fueran hechos de miel tibia.
2. Una piedra cubierta de bálanos. Porque sí.

Después de la ola de calor, cuando murieron tantos mejillones, expuestos al temperaturas no acostumbradas durante las horas de la marea baja, ahora me dió gusto ver algunos mejillones vivos. En la zona baja intramareal esta semana, todavía persiste un olor a podrido, pero no es tan fuerte como estaba en julio. Pero sí, vi más conchas vacías de mejillones muertos que mejillones vivos.

Tercera foto: un poco de todo. Anémonas de puntas color de rosa, Anthopleura elegantissima, algas rojas y verdes, bálanos, lapas, un pedazo de concha de dólar de mar, y conchas vacías de mejillones.

Bearing the world on his back

 In the bottom few metres of the intertidal zone, I found chitons. Many chitons, tiny to "giant", of at least 4 different species.

This one resists being identified. Is this burden he carries from a sense of responsibility for the world, camouflage, or just because of his attractive personality?

Hardly identifiable as a chiton at all.

Except from the underside. Mouth on the left.

He could possibly be a mossy chiton. Mopalia mucosa: they grow dark, bristle-like hairs around the outer edges. But the algae he wears make it hard to be sure.

He's carrying 5 barnacles of the larger local species, which with time could immobilize him under their weight. But he's not fazed; there's room for more.

I labelled the photo of his back.

4 species of algae, 2 of barnacles, mussels and limpets and a tiny hermit crab. There's probably more, hiding under the sea lettuce.

Tomorrow: the rest of the chitons.

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Entre los últimos metros de la zona baja intramareal, encontré muchos quitones, de varias especies, desde las más pequeñas hasta los que llamamos "gigantes".

Este quitón resiste la identificación. Lleva el mundo en su dorso; ¿será por su gran sentido de responsibilidad hacia su comunidad, para servir de camuflaje, o simplemente porque tiene una personalidad tan atrayente?

Desde arriba, casi no se puede identificar como quitón, pero boca arriba, se ve la forma. Puede ser un quitón "cubierto de musgo", Mopalia mucosa, ya que estos llevan pelos oscuros, tiesos, alrededor de las placas dorsales. Pero por la algas que lleva, es difícil distinguir la especie por cierto.

Lleva 5 bálanos de la especie local grande, los cuales con el tiempo pueden llegar a pesar tanto que se le haga imposible moverse. Pero no se da por vencido; hay lugar para más.

Marqué la foto con algunas identificaciones. Hay 4 especies de alga marina, 2 especies de bálanos, mejillones y lapas y un cangrejo ermitaño miniaturo. Probablemente habrá más, escondido bajo la lechuga marina.

Para mañana, dejo los demás de los quitones.

What the camera saw

Many (most?) of the animals that live in the intertidal zone hang out on the underside of rocks, or when the tide goes out, under stones. So I flip stones to find the crabs and the whelks and all the myriad scrambling creatures. Or I kneel and prop myself on my elbows to look for starfish under the big rocks.

Sometimes, I can't get down far enough. Then I shove the camera under the rock and take blind photos; you never know what's under there!

For example:

A normal mix. Limpets, barnacles, periwinkle snails (but some may house hermits). And something orange.

Another shot, closer to the rock above. Barnacles, periwinkle (and I'm pretty sure the second from the top has a hermit inside). And those orange and white balls. What are they?

Cropped and zoomed in.

So what are those orange and white balls? Eggs of some critter? And the white one with a hole would be one that's hatched? I checked Buzz's collection of eggs; scroll down to three photos that look like a match.

They look most like the singing toadfish's eggs, both the size and shape and the location, although they were completely out of the water at low tide, and there was no father fish to be seen. (It's the fathers who babysit the eggs until they hatch. And sing to the females; nice guys!)

I found one of these, eggs and all 9 years ago on Boundary Bay. There, the eggs had fry inside. And there were hundreds of eggs. And this was in July.

Midshipman (singing toadfish) eggs, with fry, 2012.

Or they could be whelk eggs, except they're too perfectly round. Herring roe is due about now, but it's cream coloured, and comes in with the tide.

What do you think?

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 Muchos, o tal vez la mayor parte de los animalitos que viven en la zona entre mareas se la pasan pegados a la parte inferior de las rocas grandes, o cuando baja la marea, los animalitos pequeños se esconden debajo de las piedras. Así que para encontrar los cangrejos y ermitaños y toda la multitud de criaturas que pululan en esta zona, ando dando vueltas a las piedras, o poniéndome a gatas, rodillas y codos en las piedras, para buscar estrellas de mar debajo de las rocas grandes.

Y a veces, no puedo hacerme tan chica, y entonces meto la cámara debajo de la roca y saco fotos a ciegas. ¡Quien sabe que maravillas la cámara va a descubrir!

Por ejemplo:

Primera foto, tomada debajo de una roca del rompeolas: lapas, bálanos, conchitas de mar (aunque varios de ellos tal vez estén ocupados por ermitaños muy pequeños). Y una cosa anaranjada.

Segunda foto, con la cámara más cerca: bílanos y caracoles; uno contiene un ermitaño; y esas cosas anaranjadas y blancas. ¿Pero qué son?

Tercera foto, recortada para ver esas pelotitas.

Y ¿qué son? ¿Huevos de algún animalito? Y la pelotita blanca, ¿será uno que ya nació? Fui a mirar la página de Buzz, que ha coleccionado muchos huevos de la zona entre mareas cerca de aquí. Y hay tres que parecen similares.

Se parecen estos por el tamaño y forma, y también por el lugar, a los huevos del pescado "sapo cabezón", al que aquí llamamos pescado sapo cantante, porque el macho le canta a la hembra. Pero estaban completamente fuera del agua con la marea baja, y no vi a ningún pescado cerca. Y cuando los he encontrado antes, era en Julio.

Los vi en la playa de Boundary Bay, hace 9 años; un macho con sus centenares de huevos amarillos, en los que ya se veían los pescaditos adentro. (Cuarta foto.) Son los machos que guardan los huevos hasta que nazcan. Y antes, cantan para atraer a las hembras. ¡Buenos compañeros!

O tal vez podrían ser huevos de un caracol marino, aunque no conozco ninguno que los pone así, cada uno solitario, y perfectamente redondos.

O tal vez sean huevos de arenques, ya que es la temporada para estos. Pero los huevos de arenques son de un color cremoso y se depositan con las olas en gran número, montones y montones en toda la playa.

¿Qué opinas tú?

Thoughts on a rocky shore

I love a rocky beach.

Polished rocks, a sprinkling of barnacles

The current runs strong along the eastern shore of the Georgia Strait, and the tides pound in and drain out quickly. Many of the rocky areas are like this; water-polished rocks, with very little life visible. Turning over stones at low tide, I find more smooth stones. No crabs, no hermits, no worms. They must be there, but have retreated to deeper, safer hideouts.

Sometimes there are barnacles, in flatter areas thickly covering the stones, in other spots clustered on the sheltered sides and bottoms of the rocks. There are spots where none are to be seen, where the rocks shine as if they were waxed and buffed.

Down near the lowest tide line, seaweeds cover the rocks. It's dangerous walking; the weeds are slippery, and the rocks move underfoot. No matter how carefully I step, I'm always a twisted ankle away from a spill. But here, the crabs and other critters find a refuge. From the waves, from hungry gulls, and also from me, as I usually gingerly skirt the greenest areas, keeping an eye on the water's edge, ready to hurry towards land when the tide turns; I don't want to be caught in seaweed over stones as the water races in. Too risky.

A flatter spot, in the lower intertidal zone, with small erratics and tide pools. More barnacles here.

Coming towards a tide pool, I see ripples and splashes at the surface. By the time I get there (and sometimes I sneak up from the far side of the rock) there is nothing. The pool looks empty, just more clean stones with clear water. Even the tiny fish have hidden underneath the stones.

But there are always snails. Tiny, and tinier snails, dotting the rocks, basking in the warmth or resting in a tide pool. Most are pinhead size, some as "big" as a grain of rice. They hold on tight, or don't provide enough resistance to the waves to be washed away. Maybe their shape helps; smooth and rounded, with a sharp tip.

Under an inch of water in a tide pool, rice-grain snails and a few limpets choose the warmest rock.

Everywhere else, where I find tiny snails, a good half of the shells house miniature hermit crabs. Not here. I think I saw one leg poking out of a shell; otherwise, every snail shell is full of snail. Hermits can easily be bowled over by a wave and swept away.

The tiniest snails are a worry for me. In some spots, every decent-sized stone is covered with them, like sprinkles on a donut. I can't put my foot down without stepping on some. I try to brush them aside, but risk tripping myself up as the stone shifts. I am glad my shoes have deep ridging; at least some of my footprint is safe for tiny critters.

Sand is safer, for the snails, and for me.

Mountain peaks on the flats

More oldies dug out of the hard drive. Just because.

Worm poop mountain, Boundary Bay beach.

And barnacle peak, White Rock beach.

Immigrant stones.

It was low tide at Oyster Bay. And I looked at the ground under my feet.

Big rocks, small rocks, stones. Looking east, across to the mainland.

The rocks are rip-rap, brought in years ago to protect the bay, forming the outer leg of a U, and creating bird habitat. On the far side, the "outside", the remains of derelict ships poke through the sand below the usual low tide line.

When we first saw it, eight years ago, the fourth side of the lagoon was just a short strip of gravel, just a little serif on the U. Now, as the currents have brought around sand and even stones from the outer coast, it reaches most of the way across the entrance, apparently aiming to close off the lagoon entirely some day.

This is an old photo we took from the tip of the rocks at mid-tide, 2009. Facing the bottom of the U.

July, 2009, again. Geese  on the tip of the gravel bar.

And now, I walk where before there was only water.

Out near the new tip of the gravel bar. Barnacles and mussels cover the stones; underneath I found crabs and snails.

And on the inner edge of the bar, clean sand. Water running down as the tide retreats leaves sharply cut channels in the sand.

Feet in mouths

While I've been snowed in, I've been combing through my hard drive, looking for forgotten projects, and I found a folder full of unprocessed segments for videos, some old, some very old, a few newish. Some, with minimal processing, are worth sharing.

Here's one; a look at barnacles feeding, combining a new clip with a very old one:

(I've skipped the musical accompaniment, which is time-consuming and probably adds little to the video, anyhow.)

And the snow has begun to melt, it's raining, and the snowplow has come down my street. I'm outta here!

Limpets don't speak

(aka Wordless. Almost.)

Limpet and barnacle

Limpet and busy barnacle.

More barnacles

Just because ...

... I liked the photo.

Rotary Beach, upper intertidal zone

Intrepid!

At low tide, I walked along the Mazatlan shoreline to a group of low rocks, most of them covered with each wave, but exposed in between. I skirted the perimeter, where the waves licked at my sandals and ran in channels beside me. Further out, a large flock of surfbirds descended with each retreating wave to feed on the draining rocks.

Hurry, hurry! Next wave's coming!

Eating on the run

Good thing they have wings!

10-second break

On to the next rock; this one's gone.

I managed to get close to a few of the birds.

Unidentified sandpipers.  Surfbirds, Calidris virgata*. Brown, black and white pattern on back, spotted bellies, yellow legs, straight, yellow and blackish beak.

They seem to be poking their beaks into small cracks in the rocks.

I looked carefully at the rocks I could reach, and fished in channels where the water was shallow enough between one wave and the next, to see what the surfbirds were catching. On the rock surfaces, I saw mostly barnacles, tiny ones. Down in the channels, bits of rockweed held tiny snails and hermit crabs. I saw a crab or two.

Tiny barnacles and a snail or two.

Rockweed, underwater. Some of those snails are hermit crabs.

Good eating here!

The tide came in. The rocks disappeared. So did the surfbirds. I went home for supper.

*Updated to correct species. Thanks, Clare!

Unexpected guests

I was hunting for barnacles. My leafy hornmouth snails were hungry, and that's all they would eat. And I wasn't having any luck. I walked miles down the shore, over several days, finding nothing. Not a barnacle in sight, except on huge rocks. At the higher tide levels, they don't like small stones that can be rolled around by the waves, crushing their shells. For critters with only feet and an intestine, they're remarkably smart.

Last Saturday, I was out searching again. Nothing, nothing, nothing. I gave up and started walking at the extreme high tide line, where seaweeds and bits of driftwood tossed up by the recent stormy weather were drying. And there, far above their normal haunts, I found three large oysters, covered in barnacles.

They had to be dead by now, cast up this far above the usual water line for several days. But the barnacles would be ok, and I could open up the oysters, scrape them out, and put the clean shells with their load of snail food into the tank. I brought them home.

Except that they weren't dead. When I put them in water to wash them off, they opened up. When I touched them, they closed down. Alive and healthy; they're hardier than I imagined.

Oysters in the aquarium. With happy leafy hornmouth snails and hermits.

The snails got busy right away, eating several big barnacles each every day. And the scavengers, hermits and crabs, swarmed over the shells, picking away all the rotting seaweed, cleaning out dying barnacles. (The snails won't touch those: they like their meals very fresh.) The oysters pumped water in and out as the hermits cleaned off their lips.

Under the detritus, the hermits discovered a couple of anemones, looking miserable, shut down and fraying. The hermits took over, tearing away all the dead flesh, cleaning out the wounds. A day later, the anemones were as good as new.

Anemone # 2. Looking good. Smaller than a barnacle. Pink-tipped anemone, Anthopleura elegantissima, maybe.

Yesterday's anemone, once the minor surgery was finished, went for a walk and ended up parked on one of the snails. In the top photo, above, it's on the snail on the right.

While I was at it, I took a few more photos of the warty tunicate (the orange tubes in front of the oysters above). It has also been thoroughly cleaned by the hermits; they're busy little beasties.

Warty tunicate, Pyura haustor, showing the "warts", now that the old gunk is gone.

Zooming in on one siphon. It looks like a smaller tunicate is growing there.

On the hunt

A Leafy Hornmouth snail searching for food climbed the tank wall to the water surface, skating on his collected bubbles.

Ceratostoma foliatum, and bubbles.

They're out of barnacles. And they're hungry. They're checking every corner, every old shell or rock, even the glass walls. And they're not finding anything.

My bad. I'd better go "barnacle shopping" on the beach asap.