Life on Earth. David Attenborough
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A nudibranch (Eubranchus tricolor) on the seabed of a Scottish loch.
One of these species, the pearly nautilus, grows to about 20 centimetres across. A tube runs from the back of the body chamber into the flotation tanks at the rear so that the animal can flood them and adjust its buoyancy to float at whatever level it wishes. The nautilus feeds not only on carrion but on living creatures such as crabs. It moves by jet propulsion, squirting water through a siphon in a variation of the current-creating technique developed by its filter-feeding relatives. It searches for its prey with the help of small stalked eyes and tentacles that are sensitive to taste. Its molluscan foot has become divided into some ninety long grasping tentacles which it uses to grapple with its prey. In the centre of them it has a horny beak, shaped like that of a parrot and capable of delivering a lethal, shell-cracking bite.
About 400 million years ago, after some 100 million years of evolution, the nautiluses gave rise to a variant group with many more flotation chambers to each shell, the ammonites. These became much more successful than their nautilus relatives, and today their fossilised shells can be found lying so thickly that they form solid bands in the rocks. Those of some species grew as big as lorry wheels. When you find one of these giants embedded in the honey-coloured limestones of central England or the hard blue rocks of Dorset, you might think that such immense creatures could do little but lumber massively across the seabed. But where erosion has removed the outer shell, the elegant curving walls of the flotation chambers that are revealed remind you that these creatures may well have been virtually weightless in water and able, like the nautilus, to jet-propel themselves at some speed through the water.
About 100 million years ago, the ammonite dynasty began to dwindle. Perhaps there were ecological changes that affected their egg-laying habits. Maybe new predators had appeared. At any rate, many species died out. Other lines gave rise to forms in which the shells were loosely coiled or almost straight. One group took the same path as the sea slugs did in more recent times and lost their shells altogether. Eventually all the shelled forms except the pearly nautilus disappeared. But some shell-less ones survived and became the most sophisticated and intelligent of all the molluscs, the squids and cuttlefish and the octopus. These are the cephalopods.
The relics of the cuttlefish’s ancestral shell can be found deep within it. This is the flat leaf of powdery chalk, the cuttlebone, that is often washed up on the seashore. The octopus has no trace of a shell even within the flesh of its body, but one species, the argonaut, secretes from one of its arms a marvellous paper-thin version shaped very like a nautilus shell but without chambers, which it uses not as a home for itself but as a delicate floating chalice in which to lay its eggs.
The squid and cuttlefish have many fewer tentacles than the nautilus – only ten – and the octopus, as its name makes obvious, has only eight. Of the three creatures, the squids are much the more mobile and have lateral fins running along their flanks which undulate and so propel the animal through the water. All cephalopods can, like the nautilus, use jet propulsion on occasion.
Several nautilus (Nautilus pompilius) on a coral reef at night, Pacific.
Cephalopod eyes are very elaborate. In some ways they are even better than our own, for a squid can distinguish polarised light, which we cannot do, and their retinas have a finer structure, which means, almost certainly, that they can distinguish finer detail than we can. To deal with the signals produced by these sense organs they have considerable brains and very quick reactions.
Some squids grow to an immense size. The aptly named colossal squid lives in the seas around Antarctica. It can reach nearly 100 kilos in weight and measure six metres from the end of its body to the tip of its outstretched tentacles. Its rival for the claim to be the largest species of all is the giant squid. The biggest so far discovered have in fact been slightly smaller and substantially lighter. Although there are records of even larger specimens of this species, it seems that these were not accurate. Nevertheless, we are unlikely to have discovered the biggest individuals of either species, so the record may yet be broken. The eyes of these huge cephalopods are even larger than might be expected. The biggest recorded were 27 centimetres across and are the largest known eyes of any kind of animal, five times bigger, for example, than those of the blue whale. Why the squid should have such gigantic eyes is a mystery.
It could be, however, that they need extremely sensitive eyes to detect the presence of their great enemy – the sperm whale. Squid beaks are often found in the stomachs of sperm whales, and their heads often carry circular scars with diameters that match a squid’s suckers. So there seems little doubt that squids and whales regularly fight in the dark depths of the ocean. Maybe the squids’ huge eyes help them to detect the presence of the only animal big enough to hunt them.
The intelligence of all the cephalopods – octopus, squid and cuttlefish – is well known. Octopus have been observed disguising themselves from an approaching enemy by covering themselves with shells or picking up two halves of a coconut and hiding within. Many species in all three groups have an extraordinary ability to change their colour and shape. They can camouflage themselves by matching almost any environment and also signal to one another with patterns and shapes that sweep across their bodies. A female squid has even been filmed signalling to a male lying alongside her that she is not ready to mate, while at the same time displaying a pattern on the other side of her body to summon another male. Octopus and squid, two of the most advanced animals in the ocean which least resemble human beings, are among the few, it seems, that can rival mammals in their intellectual abilities.
But what of the second great category of animals without backbones, the one represented in ancient rocks by the flower-like crinoids? As these are traced upwards through the rocks, they become more elaborate and their fundamental structure becomes clearer. Each has a central body, the calyx, rising from a stem like the seedhead of a poppy. From this sprout five arms which, in some species, branch repeatedly. The surface of the calyx is made up of closely fitting plates of calcium carbonate, as are the stems and branches. Lying in the rocks, the stems look like broken necklaces, their individual beads sometimes scattered, sometimes still in loose snaking columns, as though their thread had only just snapped. Occasionally gigantic specimens are found with stems 20 metres long. These creatures, like the ammonites, have had their day, but a few species, sometimes called sea lilies, still survive in the ocean depths.
Bigfin squid (Sepioteuthis lessoniana) hovering in open water above a coral reef at night. Dampier Strait, Raja Ampat, West Papua, Indonesia. Tropical West Pacific Ocean.
Crinoid (feather star, centre) on a gorgonian (sea fan, red) with a Dendronephthya soft coral in the background, Andaman Sea, Thailand.
Sea lilies show that the calcium carbonate plates, in life, are embedded just under the skin. This gives their surface a curious prickly feel. In other families, related to the crinoids, the skin has spines and needles attached to it so the creatures are known as echinoderms, ‘spiny-skins’. The basic module on which the echinoderm body is built has a fivefold symmetry. The plates on the calyx are pentagons. Five arms extend from it, and all the internal organs occur in groups