Recently I watched the Peter Jackson trilogy “The Hobbit”, a lavish production with possibly too many special effects, but quite entertaining. There’s one thing I never noticed when I read the book, which I loved: creatures such as wolves and spiders always belonged to the bad guys. The movies, of course, make this blatantly obvious: snarling, vicious wolves have facial expressions similar to those of their masters, the cruel orcs and goblins. The spiders are gigantic and instead of flies they ruthlessly hunt down dwarves. It is implied that both species not only look threatening but that they have evil characters as well.
When I researched cephalopods, the molluscan class which includes octopuses, I came across the same phenomenon: the depiction of giant monster squids in Jules Vernes’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Beneath the Sea (1870) which attack and destroy ships and people, make them look frightening indeed. Or consider the Icelandic saga of the Kraken, a gigantic sea monster which lived around Greenland and Norway. It was supposed to rest deep beneath the surface of the ocean, but when it decided to raise to the surface because it was hungry, it could crush sailing ships and eat men:
It is the nature of this creature to swallow men and ships, and even whales and everything else within reach. It stays submerged for days, then rears its head and nostrils above surface and stays that way at least until the change of tide.1
Actually, giant squids do indeed exist. They don’t have the tremendous size that mythology grants them, but they are indeed impressively long: the largest scientifically documented total length of a giant squid is estimated to be 39 - 43 ft which includes the two long tentacles. Together with cuttlefish, nautili, and octopuses they are cephalopods, meaning “head - feet”. While the nautilus has an external shell, this has been either internalized or is completely absent in the case of squid, cuttlefish, and octopuses. All of these decidedly strange creatures have a number of characteristics in common, but “vicious” or “evil” isn’t part of their makeup.
The shell-less, also called soft-bodied cephalopods , such as octopuses, have three hearts – two branchial hearts that move blood through the gills, and a systemic heart that moves the oxygenated blood through the rest of the body. Their blood is blue because of hemocyanin, a special protein that bonds with copper and which allows the octopus to live in extreme temperatures and in deep water. Humans and many other animals have iron-based hemoglobin in their blood, which makes it red.
And it gets even more bizarre – they have nine brains, one large central brain, and eight mini-brains, one in each arm. They are the most intelligent invertebrates, with a brain-to-body mass ratio higher than that of many vertebrates. There are many anecdotes about the astounding intelligence of octopuses. I remember a story I read years ago, about a German aquarium where the whole electrical system was shortened overnight. This happened for a few nights — every morning when the staff returned the electricity was dead. They finally decided to spend the night at the aquarium, and they discovered that their giant octopus didn’t like the 2,000-watt overhead spotlight, and somehow managed to aim a squirt of water at it so he could sleep in the dark. So clever! They kept the light off from then on.
And there is more proof for the astounding intelligence of an octopus. Take for example the veined octopus who collects shells and then uses them to build a shelter – demonstrating the ability to use tools. Scientists have developed problem-solving experiments which show that cephalopods can unscrew the lids of containers, can unlatch boxes with food inside, and they have the capacity for future planning.2
Besides all this, octopuses are extraordinary escape artists who can squeeze their considerable body mass through a tiny opening, like Inky who escaped from a New Zealand aquarium to freedom. And their capacity for camouflage and disguise is one of their oddest features: not only can they change colors and shape, but also the texture of their skin, so that they look like seaweed or anything else in their environment.
But the most fascinating characteristic of an octopus I only learned after I watched a film and read a book. A friend asked me recently whether I had seen the Netflix documentary My Octopus Teacher. Yes, indeed I had, not once but twice. And I’ve read The Soul of an Octopus by Sy Montgomery, an award-winning naturalist and author. Both of these works show that an octopus has an individual personality, can form friendships even with humans, has a keen awareness of their environment, and lives in their own, complete, world which overlaps with our world and that of countless other creatures.
The people who produced the documentary as well as writer and scientist Montgomery have an unconventional approach to the subject they want to study, different from conventional science which disects and probes and often tortures their victims. They gently enter their world, get to know the creatures by befriending them, being open to their world and personalities. Among all the strange and alien qualities they discover what they have in common with octopuses: interest in the other, curiosity to get to know this being. Affection and friendship. Mutual trust. The process of discovery changes the human who learns equally about themselves while exploring the other, the octopus.
I hope that more scientists will adopt this approach: to learn about another creature not by taking it apart but by connecting with it.
Thanks for the recommendatiom, I just ordered it, sounds like a lot of fun! And by all means read My Octopus Teacher. I know you'll love it.
I recently finished reading a delightful book, Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt, that has an octopus named Marcellus as one of the main characters. I highly recommend it. I enjoyed the documentary, My Octopus Teacher, and have The Soul of an Octopus on my TBR list.