How do we love thee?
Let us count the ways
Jannes Landschoff
The natural world is all around us, yet we only experience a fraction of it. While biologists have identified about 1.7 million species, estimates suggest that less than 85% of species on land and 90% of species in the ocean might still have to be described. This means there are millions of species waiting to be discovered – millions of unique stories that are yet to be told. Tales of survival and adaptation. Wondrous facts about everything from invisible communication networks and sensory sophistication to genius genes and hunting prowess.
Craig and I always have our eyes, ears and hearts open to find new ones.
Our project 1001 Seaforest Species – a collaboration with Save Our Seas Foundation – combines science, underwater tracking and storytelling to chronicle the lives of organisms that inhabit the Great African Seaforest. The project was born out of the countless hours Craig and I have spent following the biological threads that flow through the seaforest – from towering stands of bamboo kelp to the tiniest isopod. This deep immersion has allowed us to experience the ecosystem from the inside out. Interactions have revealed interconnecting circles that power our planet. And all humans are part of these.
The project, which has also been supported by the scientific knowledge of Emeritus Professor Charles Griffiths, builds a comprehensive dataset and supports research collaborations, which are all aimed at deepening our understanding of an amazing ecosystem. This is the foundation to argue for the urgent need to preserve biodiversity.
Back home after a busy time attending various global events, Craig joined me for a dive. It was late afternoon, and the sun was still bright, but it wouldn’t stay like that for long. I was itching to get in. The day had been frustrating: my trusty old Corolla needed a new battery, my knee injury had been playing up, and my computer had frozen in the middle of an important download.
We went down to our local bay and waded into the water in silence (it helps to not talk about how cold it is!). Diving down, the cold throbbed against my legs. Funnily, I always feel it most around my knees. So I dived down again. And again, until my body adjusted to the temperature. I could feel my clenched mind unfurl.
On the far side of the forest, where golden kelp bookends the vast blue deep, a familiar shape arced through the water. We immediately knew what it was, as we’d shared countless dives with Cape fur seals. We also knew what it was doing: hunting for its favourite prey, the octopus. And just as suddenly as it appeared, it vanished into the understorey.
Back at the surface, the air was quiet. The sea’s viscous surface was taking on the sky’s rosiness. My wonky car and knee, and my temperamental computer download, seemed far away. Everything suddenly felt right in the world.
I took a deep breath and plunged down again. Craig floated on the surface, watching fish nibble on a compass jelly. At the bottom – about 6m (20ft) down – I came to rest on the sand and watched a helmet snail take its turn to have supper. It moved towards a purple Cape sea urchin and mounted it. The most subtle layer of fine sand on the surface of an invisible cloud of goo signalled that the mollusc had immobilised the spines with a poisonous fluid. Now it would drop sulphuric acid onto the urchin’s test to create a hole into which it would dip its proboscis. How can we not be in awe of Mother Nature?
By then, the sun had begun to teeter on the mountain ridge. I suggested to Craig it was time to get out. But one more dive! There’s always one more dive, as you never know what more the seaforest will reveal. Near the shore, I spied a slight depression in the sand and knew instantly what it was. I showed it to Craig, and we went to inspect it. The subtlety of the slight hollow might usually go unnoticed, but when you’ve spent so many hours getting to understand this mysterious realm, the invisible is made visible. The interconnecting circles of life are writ large.
Craig had pieced together this particular mystery after three years of intense tracking. The dent belonged to a heart urchin that was the size of an adult human’s hand and was covered in thatch-like spines. These echinoderms are also a favourite meal for helmet snails, and they are the home of a whole community of invertebrates that live between the spines. Recently, I was even part of describing and naming one of these species, a small little bivalve that holds on to the spines with its foot, as a new species to science. (Read more here).
For me, this is the true wonder of the Great African Seaforest. There is always another deeper layer to uncover. But enough for today. My fingers were turning into claws from the cold, and I was starting to fantasise about a hot cup of tea. We waded back to shore, shivering – not just from the cold water but from the familiar rush of wild ecstasy, a feeling rooted in our own wildness and an unexplainable, deeper sense of belonging.
Bundled up in jumpers, Craig and I wandered slowly up the hill. We talked with excitement about heart urchins and the three commensal animals we’d discovered living among their spines: polychete worms, bivalves, and amphipods. Who knew what tinier animals, in turn, lived on them?
The sun had now slid behind the mountain, leaving behind a dim band of straggling light. In the quiet, past the houses and the smells of cooking supper, we walked and talked. About how going into the water and meeting all of the animals is more than just recreation. It’s about getting inside their minds and lives to understand their worlds and how they connect in ever-widening circles to create this incredible biodiverse ecosystem. And how much this has nurtured our love for the seaforest and a sense of awe at Mother Nature’s intelligence.
It is my deep hope that the 1001 Seaforest Species project can spread this message. Up close, every animal is biologically and socially fascinating and gives rise to such a sense of wonder. How is it possible to not want to advocate for our Mother?
Back home, I got my cup of tea, sat at my desk, and restarted my computer. My brain was humming with ideas. Sipping the hot beverage, I began to type up the latest 1001 species story: Human. Part of all Earth’s circles. Wild of heart. Yearning for home.
