A sea hare munches some algae in a Co Mayo rockpool.
School kids and sea hares on the seashore
Marine Life
John Paul Tieran
Two months of too much wind means that snorkelling season was put back this year. Non-stop blustery winds from the Atlantic meant that, visibility-wise, the water took on the consistency of pea-soup, which isn’t very good for seeing things, whilst the below-average temperatures conspired to further strengthen one’s resolve to not get in the water.
Our inability to snorkel has focused our attention on intertidal rockpools, those condensed microcosms of marine life which occur fleetingly for a few hours each day, ceasing to exist as the tide fills back in around them, robbing them of their independence as they become simply ‘the sea’ again.
Such microcosms of life are perfect in fact, if you wish to introduce the marine world to young seashore enthusiasts, which is what we have been doing for the past month as our duties turn to education at this point in the year. In the last few weeks of term before primary schools break up for the summer, curiosity turns to the outdoors and more and more schools decided this June that a wildlife expedition to the shore, (followed by a surf and a BBQ), is quite preferable to a trip inland to a castle or museum.
There is no match for tiny hands when it comes to finding sea-creatures in and around rockpools; in fact, I’m constantly amazed by the variety of life that a group of primary-school students can unearth. Shore crabs, pipefish and even a large live starfish have been eagerly presented to me on recent shore visits. However, the highlight of this year’s season was an animal not instantly recognisable to most, and as ugly as it is intriguing.
The sea hare (Aplysia punctata), named for its gangling tentacles which resemble a hare’s ears, is a relative of the periwinkle, its shell strangely contained inside its fleshy exterior. Surprisingly common, but rarely seen, it lives in rockpools amongst the seaweed, reportedly taking on the colour of whatever seaweed it happens to be eating. Juveniles, which mainly eat red seaweed, and adults who eat browns and greens are thus coloured accordingly.
As I dipped my waterproof camera gear, intended for the exotic depths only attainable on snorkel missions, into the shallow rockpool to grab a shot of Aplysia punctata healthily munching on some red algae, I thought this was the underwater photographer’s equivalent of shooting fish in a barrel. But as the primary school students found out this June, sometimes you don’t have to go so far to find some real local treasure.
John Paul Tiernan, Louisburgh, runs www.irishmarinelife.com, a website dedicated to the creation of knowledge of our marine ecosystems. He is currently studying for an MSc in Marine Science.
