You know what I really like? Octopuses. They’re so cool. First of all, they’re like… the only smart invertebrates in the whole world. And they’re scary smart. Captive octopuses slither out of their own tanks, across floors, and into other tanks. They open latches. They innocently return to their own tanks before humans reappear. They know, man. Octopuses in the wild have been observed imitating the shapes of other animals, including lionfish, manta rays, and sea snakes. This is made easier, of course, by the fact that they can change color. I mean, any animal that can change color is cool, right? Octopuses can change all kinds of colors–and textures too–and they do it in awesome geometric patterns. Then, there’s the whole eight-tentacles thing. How cool would it be to have eight tentacles? Oh! And because they’re invertebrates without anything even remotely resembling a skeleton, they can squish through tiny, tiny spaces. A big octopus can fit through a tiny crack. Also, octopuses have been observed tucking up all but two of their tentacles and actually walking along the seafloor. I mean, whoa. They walk.
And then, on top of all this, they are bigtime badasses. For animals with no skeletons, they are scary strong. Ever read Island of the Blue Dolphins? Remember when she fights the octopus? She fights the thing for hours and hours, and comes out of the fight rather the worse.
And some octopuses are venomous. And they can squirt ink, to make everything dark so they can escape! I mean, if Batman was underwater, he’d do it. And then, and this is the really cool superhero thing, they can regenerate their tentacles. It gets cut off and… it grows back!
Think about it. A superhero who can change color, texture, and shape to blend in with surroundings–is sneaky–can slither underneath closed doors–is super-strong–is venomous–has a built-in “cloaking” device–and regrows things that get shot off. Holy cow. No single X-Man has that many powers.
And they sure do taste yummie. I always thought that having fresh caught octopus would be the best, but found out that is not the case. My Croatian friends say that the best octopus is caught then frozen to make it more tender to eat. So the frozen octs you can get are going to be pretty darn close to the ‘real’ thing one might get BBQ’d and on a platter in the Mediterranean.
Yes, they’re incredibly cool and intelligent and have superpowers. They’re also evil. Malicious, scheming creatures. You can tell from their eyes and totally unnatural shape. They’re just waiting for the right moment to strike. And then, in the words of the immortal Bill Paxton, it’s game over. Game over, man.
Cool video. The only problem is, now that I know they can be hiding anywhere, I know I’m truly never safe. Mark my words, someday, I’ll sit down at my computer and try to click over to the dope only to discover (too late of course) that it wasn’t really me computer at all, but rather an octopus with it’s camouflage set to black plastic. ::Shudder::
When fieldworking at the northern parts of the Great Barrier Reef this winter, I had a rather unfortunate event with an octopus. At the station where we stayed, they had a pet octopus. It was found among some coral ruble before christmas, and had been taken care of and weened, and was the size of a fist when we met. One of the volunteer workers were about to feed the octopus at the same time when I was getting some sealsugs from my tank. She saw me with a handful of critters and asked if I had something to give to the octopus. I looked around and saw that I had some sealsugs which were collected from down at the beach where they were easy to collect. ‘Take these’, I says, ‘but I doubt it will eat them, they probably taste foul to an octopus’. So I continue dealing with my seaslugs, and in the corner of my eye watch the volunteer worker give the seaslugs to the octopus. ‘Aw, look at her nibbling her food’, I hear from the other side of the lab, but suddenly the cozy voice turn into frantic yelling; "Oh no, the octpous is inking the whole tank, where did it go?’ I walk over to the tank and see that all the water inside it has turned black. There is nothing to see, and we turn on the waterflow to flush out as much of the ink as possible. After a couple of minutes it clears enough for us to sight the two seaslugs that were put in the tank happily crawling about their own business, and the octopus lying on the bottom of the tank with rigid tentacles, pale as a ghost. ‘Is it dead?’ the volunteer asks. ‘I dont know, lets poke it and see if it moves’ I says. After a couple of minutes of poking, and after half an hour in a fresh tank, the octopus is still the same, and we declare it dead. The volunteer worker was devastated, and I was thinking to myself that seaslugs and octopi do not mix well, at least for the latter part. I guess what I suspected would deter the octopus from eating the seaslugs, also was poisonous to the octopus. Oh, well, learning by doing. Seaslug 1 - octopus 0.
Not only are octopi sneaky and cunning underwater, but there is also a land based version that delights in dropping out of trees and scaring the bejeebus out of you!
Allow me to point out, not for the first time, that the plural of octopus is not octopi: the root is Greek, not Latin, so it’s octopoda, octopodes, or even octopods. Even octopuses is a perfectly legitimate construction; octopi is just plain wrong. And ignore the online Merriam-Webster on this one: it’s full of shit.
Octopi, I love you!!