Marine Life Encounters Blog

Bermuda: A Bonanza of Black Grouper, Sargassum Fish and Much, Much More

Bermuda - September/October 2009 - Even though Bermuda has an active contingent of REEF fish surveyors and rich tradition of marine science, the remote Atlantic island had, for some unfathomable reason, been off Anna’s and my underwater radar. But NO LONGER, not after our two-week October stay, first as members of a REEF Survey Team followed by several days spent with local friends. Like a rocket, the hospitable English colony zoomed to the top our list of must-return-to destinations.

I have to admit that we possibly wouldn’t have made it to Bermuda at all if it hadn’t been for repeated invitations from four magnetic Bermudian personalities Judie and Eric Clee, Marni McAllister, and Chris Flook, friends we‘ve become acquainted with during REEF sponsored trips. The trio of Judie, an environmental dynamo, her lifelong friend Marni, and Chris the Collector of Specimens for the Bermuda Aquarium, were finally too much for us to resist. So on a weekend in early October a team of a dozen REEF volunteers joined local fish fanciers at Grotto Bay, home of Triangle Diving our underwater host for the week.

One of the most rewarding parts of diving is travel. No matter how many reefs you’ve explored or animals you’ve encountered you will always find a new set of wonders at the next destination. Bermuda’s high-profile reef system with its thick carpeting of coral is far and away the richest and healthiest we’ve visited in the Western Hemisphere. Less fish life, compared with tropical destinations far to the south, is a bit unsettling until you start poking about and Bermuda begins surrendering her treasures. Among the first of many nuggets is, of all things, a Yellowhead Wrasse. Now this is not just any ol’ Yellowhead, this is a dazzling homegrown version, known locally as Redbacks. Later, while exploring the sand I note another Bermuda oddity, an indigenous hermit crab that takes up residence inside a stationary worm tube rather than a mobile mollusk shell. But the prize of our first dive is a Conchfish, an uncommon find in any waters. The small cardinalfish resides within the shell of a living conch, its symbiotic home.

Nine hundred miles east of Charleston, the narrow 22-mile island of Bermuda, the only dry remnant of an expansive volcanic plateau, sits in the warm wash of the Gulf Stream creating an oasis for tropical creatures in a far-flung sub-tropical clime. Above water the rather hilly stretch of limestone is dotted with gleaming white roofs and graced with world-class seascapes.

During the week the REEF group, thanks to Triangle Divers and the dynamic Judie Clee, are kept to a delightfully full schedule. After two extended survey dives each day the group is whisked off in the evenings to a night snorkel and picnic at Whalebone Bay, presentations by local fish, turtle and whale conservationists, a slide show at the venerable Bermuda Institute of Ocean Sciences, a private tour of the nature preserve on Nonsuch Island (former headquarters of ocean explorer, naturalist and executive of the New York Zoological Society, William Beebe), and a grand finale dinner and behind the scene look at the Bermuda Aquarium Museum and Zoo (BAMZ). The Bermuda Zoological Society, the non-profit support group for BAMZ has a long history of supporting REEF in Bermuda and they went above and beyond to host many of our week’s activities. REEF is fortunate to have such good partners on the island.

While surveying an inshore grass bed around the remains of one of Beebe’s research vessels, deliberately sunk as a breakwater off Nonsuch Island, Anna returns to the boat clutching a bottle dug from the sand. The green glass container, manufactured in Bermuda a century or so ago to transport mineral water, employs a loose marble to seal the bubbly contents inside. A sucker for curiosities from the sea, Anna placed her most recent treasure in a position of honor among her private museum of clay gin bottles, parrotfish beaks, sea beans, beach glass and carved fishing goggles.

Besides the unique sightings of indigenous fishes and invertebrates our group was pleasantly surprised to discover an unusual abundance of puddingwives – another strikingly beautiful member of the wrasse family, cryptic tiger gobies, and most heartening of all, a sizeable population of black grouper, a rarity at most Caribbean locations.

From our early research of reef fisheries management, Anna and I were well aware of Bermuda’s historic ban on fish pots (fish traps) – baited rectangular wire cages each with a funnel entrance. The all-too-efficient harvesting method, which began after WWII, proliferated as demand for food fish increased with population growth and the expansion of tourism. A marked decline in food fish populations was officially noted as early as 1975 when catch records were first compiled. By the 1980s there had been a complete collapse of once abundant Nassau Grouper due to the direct targeting of the species’ annual weeklong mass spawning aggregation at a traditional site. Their predictable behavior makes the grouper sitting ducks for overexploitation by nearly every kind of fishing method, especially fish pots.

As a direct result of a heroic efforts by the then Minister of the Environment, Ann Cartwright-DeCouto, fish pots were permanently banned from Bermudian waters in 1990, one of the first governments in the world to muster the courage to take such an audacious step. Although the far-sighted legislation was politically costly, the environmental results two-decades later are obvious with populations of most bottom-dwelling fishes showing a marked rebound. Sadly, because of the direct targeting of their annual spawning aggregation preceding the fish-pot prohibition, Nassau groupers have been unable to make a comeback. Today, as REEF data indicates, sightings of the historically common market fish are virtually nonexistent.

The good news, Bermuda’s population of Black Grouper, locally known as Rockfish, has remained comparatively stable. Because of their size, male Blacks, which reach a length of five feet and can weigh more than 100 lbs., were less susceptible to fish pots. An even more critical factor is the species’ wider reproductive window, which makes them less vulnerable to targeted fishing. However, the latest technique of trolling for the great fish, combined with the recent discovery of the specie’s traditional spawning grounds has renewed concern for their welfare. Like most marine creatures, little is known about the natural history of Black Grouper, which highlights a universal problem in fisheries management: How do you develop wise fisheries policies if you don’t even understand an animal’s nature?

This brings us back to Triangle Divers. Not only does the enterprising staff run a crackerjack scuba and snorkeling excursion and instruction concession, but Graham Maddocks, Graham Christmas and Ken Vickers have taken it upon their collective shoulders to document the spawning behavior of Black Grouper, which, at this point, has never even been witnessed. Their mission first took the Triangle crew to Florida for extensive rebreather training. Then, out of their own pockets, they purchased the high-tech equipment necessary to more safely and efficiently study the, logistically-distant,110-foot deep aggregation site. Even though burdened with a demanding work schedule and a limited fuel budget the group has already documented much of the groupers’ courtship behavior, and most important, substantiated that the aggregation, which at times numbers in the hundreds, remains at the spawning grounds far longer than previously believed. The results of their venture has prompted the Department of Environmental Protection to consider extending the existing ban on fishing in the area, or possibly closing the grounds permanently.

Protection of the grouper grounds is paramount for maintaining Bermuda’s population of black grouper. But, like everywhere, it is a tough sell convincing fishing interests to bypass ready profits for long-term interest. The sell would be easier if it were practical for those in the debate to personally witness the aggregation. Nothing turns environmental theory into reality more clearly than a personal wildlife encounter.  Triangle’s video presentation will certainly help the cause. In the meantime, the Bermuda Aquarium is home to a most worthy ambassador of its species – Darth Vader the resident black “show” grouper of 16- year standing. If one goes behind closed doors and up to the rim of the large display tank Darth Vader will shortly appear at your feet and roll on its side for a scratching. Having an unfamiliar animal respond to your touch with such apparent pleasure makes it difficult for anyone to think of the lovable fish and its wild brethren as nothing more than unprocessed filets. 

After Chris Flook returned from a REEF Lionfish Study in the Bahamas, where he witnessed heavily infested reefs for the first time, he developed a volunteer-based plan for removing the alien predators from Bemuda reefs. It is highly unlikely that the Indo-Pacific scorpionfish, which have inhabited local waters for nearly a decade, can be eradicated.  The goal of the project is to limit their numbers on critical reef tracks allowing the natural recruitment of settling fishes to continue. The number of lionfish appears to be down this year, but Chris, realizing how new we are to this game, is cautious, concerned that they might have simply migrated to deeper water. The Bermuda lionfish control program has not only helped minimize a serious threat to local fishes, but also serves as a template-of-action for down-stream island nations as the threat spreads across the Caribbean Basin. For his innovative work with lionfish Chris was honored with the Bermuda National Trust 2009 Environmental Award. 

The gang from Triangle was one of the first groups to sign up for Chris’s lionfish program. During the REEF week, the crew was happy to have so many good eyes aboard to help track down the wily culprits. Although relatively scarce, there was enough lionfish around for the REEF group to dine on their tasty filets one evening.

Although Anna and I heard many intriguing stories about Bermuda’s fishes from Chris, it was his tales about the tiny army of animals he finds traveling with rafts of Sargassum that first sparks our interest. The isolated island, near the western fringe of the two million square mile Sargasso Sea, receives great drifts of Sargassum weed with every easterly blow. Each rootless raft, a world upon itself, shelters juvenile pelagic and reef fishes by the score. A permanent population of golden-dappled shrimps, crabs, pipefish and frogfish make their home exclusively within the tangled world. Our group gets so absorbed in sorting out the menagerie of miniatures concealed in the weed that we find it hard to pass a raft without  having a look.

Although we have nothing against large, charismatic sea animals it’s the small, exotic, typically unknown, curiosities we like most. Chris is a past master at finding aquatic delights. A collector of specimens before he became a Collector of Specimens, Chris has been toting nets and pails around the tide pools, bays and beaches of Bermuda since his earliest memories. Over the decades few sea critters, no matter how small or unassuming, have escaped his eagle eyes or his nets.

Anna and I accompany Chris to a calm Sargassum-lined bay in his collecting skiff. We spend our morning wading about like grade schoolers happily dipping animals from the shallows. With a gentle surge lapping at his knees, Chris bends forward patiently staring into a tangle of bobbing weed. Now and again he pauses, eyes locked. Ever so slowly he angles his nets into position, and with a well-practiced twist of the wrist ensnares the prize. A number of tiny jacks and chubs accompany us back to the aquarium where they will be at first quarantined and later raised to become part of the exhibit. While examining the pea-sized trophies buzzing about in the bucket, Chris explains how well these fry adapt to captivity compared to larger juveniles or adults set in their way.

Blending in is the name of the game in the weed. Those that survive marauding fish attacks from below and diving birds from above have to keep an eye out for fellow rafters such as the Sargassum Fish, a frogfish with one of the largest stomach in the business and a mouth and appetite to match.

Town Pier in Bonaire - The best night dive in the Caribbean, now closed, but hopefully not for long.

Sept 13-19, 2009 Bonaire - The week before Anna and I traveled to Bonaire on what has become our annual September stay as guests of Buddy Dive, I received a phone call from ol’ friend, David Espinosa, who had recently been appointed to the editorship of Scuba Diving – a well deserved congratulations to both David and the magazine – in my estimation a perfect fit and a coup for diving. David was inquiring about the current status of diving at Bonaire’s Town Pier and Salt Pier in the process of researching a possible article. I had heard rumors of some damage from a storm the previous year but knew little more about the situation. The web produced conflicting information, but for the most part indicated that the piers were closed and had been for some time. The news was troubling. I count the piers among the best night dives in the world, and I love night diving.

Once on the island, we discover that Town Pier is indeed closed and has been since the previous October when the surge from hurricane Omar did a number on the pier, scouring sponges off the pilings and causing significant damage making diving unsafe. However, it seemed that some folks were diving at Salt Pier making shore entries at Salt City, just south of the Cargill property.

After investigation the situation further, we find that the story behind the closure goes back to before Omar. Following 9/11, docks and other transportation facilities around the world were required by treaty to heighten security. In response, the Harbor Master at Bonaire began requiring everyone visiting the docks to be accompanied by a registered guide who was responsible for providing, via fax, names and passport numbers 24-hours in advance. The policy capped the numbers of divers per guide at four, and limited dives to one hour. No permits were issued when large vessels were in port. The policy allowed divers to dive and put a much appreciated jingle in the pockets of local dive guides. There were grumbles here and there about the procedure, but for the most part, everything went along swimmingly until Hurricane Omar raised it ugly head. After the storm, the Harbor Master, faulted dangling cables, but adding to the decision to close the structures were ongoing legitimate complaints about the extra paperwork created by the constant processing of permits. So as of last October, it was decreed that no more dock diving permits would be issued for the foreseeable future.

Anna and I gladly hopped at an invitation from Ellen Muller and Linda Baker,  to join them for a night dive under Town Pier. The pair had been granted a special permit by the Harbor Master, so they could check on the health of the marine life and survey damage prior to repairs and construction scheduled to begin in a matter of weeks. It was a rare opportunity to explore a classic dive site with two of the Caribbean’s best marine naturalists. Linda, who has been a dive guide at Bruce Bowker’s Carib Inn for nearly two decades, knows as much about the island’s fish life as anyone having contributed  well over a thousand fish surveys to REEF’s database. To understand just how good Ellen is at finding and documenting unusual marine life, view her work at www.pbase.com/imagine. Her web site brims with images of unique, often never-before-seen animals from Bonaire, photographed, mainly at night, during the past several years.  

In the 11 months since Omar, marine growth on the piling has made a strong comeback, as well it should. The thick growth, made up primarily of fouling organisms such as Golden Cup Coral, an invasive species from the Pacific, and encrusting sponges, grows like weeds. But what beautiful weeds they are, blanketing the 20- to 40-foot piling from sand to surface with a unrivaled display of dazzling colors. The great stands of tube sponges, some reaching six feet in length, vanished with the storm, however  starter colonies of the fast-growing organisms are popping up everywhere.  By the time the repairs and extension have been completed  and the pier is reopened to diving, sometime in 2010, the animals should be back to their previous state of opulence.

Video – Colonial Animals Blanket the Pilings from Sand to Surface

As impressive as animal colonies covering the pilings are, we have come to see the critters that creep out of the tangle after dark. The thick growth also attracts sea horses and frogfish – two of Bonaire’s superstars. The highlight of the night is a red, fingernail-sized longlure frogfish perched on a yellow sponge. There is always a total surprise under the pier, like a the distinctive little red mystery goby that makes an appearance for only a few seconds. But crabs, and especially decorator crabs that pick living bits from their surroundings to disguise their presence, steal the show. Another rare sight, Anna finds an arrow crab wiggling out of its molt. And the small nudibranch inhabiting the pilings and bottom debris aren’t shabby.    

Toward the end of last year’s stay Anna and I began hunting for examples of symbiosis on the reef and sand flat extending from Buddy’s to town. The discovery of a Orangespotted Goby and its symbiotic snapping shrimp got us started on the venture. The alert goby acts as a sentinel for a near-blind burrowing shrimp that builds and maintains a burrow for the pair. Anna’s discovery of an arrow shrimp hiding within gorgonian plumes quickly followed. Soon we added highly specialized shrimp living exclusively within host basket stars, sea biscuits, crinoids, and anemones. Ellen Muller put us onto a fun find; an unclassified brown and white shrimp that lives nowhere but inside Touch-Me-Not Sponges. Peering into dozens of sponge openings to locate the half-inch crustaceans, causes us to take a closer look a the white specks of worms that dot the sponges’ surface. All the exciting animals we discover, only make us even more mindful of the many wonders we are almost certainly missing. ~ Ned DeLoach

Video - Basket Star Shrimp

Coral Spawning, Sponge Spawning and Fish Spawning… A night diving bonanza in Bonaire.

Sept 7-12, 2009 Bonaire It is night diving time here on Bonaire as everyone eagerly anticipates the wondrous happenings of coral spawning week. There are few places in the world better for accessing the annual event than along the island’s calm western coast where shore diving offers unfettered access to the reef. Although 7 pm to midnight during the 6^th through 8^th nights following the full moons of September and October are your best bets for observing one of sea’s most splendid spectacles, we’ve learned long ago to begin our night excursions earlier in the week – nature always has a way of dishing up surprises on her own time schedule.

It’s not just the corals that find the time period intoxicating, even the libido of fishes and other invertebrates  slips into overdrive. On a Monday afternoon dive at Klein, we find hundreds of Brown Chromis down on the reef spreading invisible gamete trails in algae, much to the culinary delight of surgeonfishes and Scrawled Filefish, which join forces to scavenge the little damselfish’s fat-filled eggs. In the middle of the action the splendid 80-foot visibility begins turning into chalk. We trace the culprits down, and discover Bonaire’s ubiquitous Touch-Me-Not Sponges releasing clouds of smoky gametes.

Video of scrawled filefish and surgeonfish

Late that afternoon, just before sunset, Anna watches a brawny Peacock Flounder over-dosed on testosterone blazing around the sand flat in an attempt to cajole his harem of three coy females. His efforts pay big dividends, within the half hour he completes a successful high-flying spawning rise with each partner. Down on the reef slope I find Spanish Hogfish engaged in similar goings-on.

Video of flounder spawning

No coral spawning the first night, but we did find another treasure – a Princess Parrotfish sleeping inside a translucent cocoon. Although conventional wisdom holds that the bubble cloaks the slumbering fish’s scent from moray eels, the hypothesis has yet to be proven. Topping the evening off, on our way back to Buddy’s dock, a Caribbean Reef Squid, attracted and entranced by our lights, performs an enchanting eight-arm dance of undecipherable meaning.

The following evening a night diver’s nemesis settles around us in the form of a swirling cloud of planktonic life. Most distracting are the writhing worms that create buzzing halos around our lights and dodge in and out of our ears. Anna, whose dazzling video beams attract the most attention, is forced to switch them off to save her sanity. Experience has taught us to periodically expect these onslaughts and that the nuisance will soon pass. Such disquieting  events occur most often on moonless nights when banks of plankton are swept toward shore on the backs of current gyres and tides. It makes it easier for us to tolerate the madness knowing that the happening is nature’s way of refreshing the reef with a new wave of life. After the worms retreat, we turn Anna’s lights to our advantage,  attracting tiny post-larval fishes and crustaceans into their bright glow.

Two nights later sea cucumbers rise off the bottom like swaying cobras, releasing thick streams  of opaque spawn. Later we observe  a writhing cluster of Sponge Brittle Stars erupt in a shower of tiny specks. And not to be out done, another species of brittle star crawls out form crevices, rise on tiptoes, and liberates their stash of gleaming yellow eggs.

On night six following the full moon several heads of Giant Star Corals go into action. Male colonies spew dense jets of milky spawn, while the females eject golden globs. Finally, at 10 pm on the seventh night the long awaited mother load. We watch  wide eyed as the thousands of individual corallites encasing a four-foot mound of Lobed Star Coral begin to swell with packets. Each pinkish orb contains a mixture of male and female gametes that will rise to the surface and break apart creating a thick genetic stew. The strategy has allowed the stationary colonies to mix and remix reproductive material over the eons. After ten minutes or so, a simultaneous puff of BB-sized bundles lift free and linger briefly as one before drifting apart and ascending into the night. No matter how many times Anna and I have witnessed the spectacle, it retains an abiding sense of mystery and majesty pregnant with hope.  ~~Ned DeLoach