The Deep "dark" Sea....Angler Fish (horror story)

I once had an obsession about the sea. All things nautical, the ocean, boats, sailing (I even joined the Sea Cadets), the coasts and most of all marine life. At one point I even wanted to become a marine biologist (I’m a telecom engineer so don’t know what wrong turn I took on the career path there) I am one of these few people that actually read the whole of moby dick not giving up after the first couple of chapters. I love boats and had the chance to sail in lots when in the cadets ( I think this rubbed off slightly onto my son who loves to read about the Titanic and knows even the tiniest of details about its doomed voyage) I think my love for the ocean began when as a little boy my mum and day use to take me in the caravan to Anstruther which is a small town in Fife, Scotland, nine miles south-southeast of St. Andrews.

I found a love for Sea Fishing off the pier there then later on out to sea in a small boat. I also loved wadding around the rock pools when the tide went out, netting crabs and little fish, havesting seaweed and taking it back to the caravan in my bucket. I loved visiting the Fishery Museum there too but the room within the Museum which drawn my attention the most was the aquarium room when a huge Conga eel was in a big glass tank.

I had a book about the deep sea and the monsters down at the bottom of the deepest dark oceans. I still love reading about these amazing creatures of the deep, we know more about the surface of the moon or Mars than we know about the bottom of our oceans! Only 0.05% of the oceans floor has been mapped to any detail. The deepest spot in the ocean is challenger deep at the southern end of the Mariana Trench ...over 7 miles deep....that just blows me away. In this post on my blog I want to write about the Angler Fish (no, it’s not a cooking post this time) in particular its mating habit which is scarier than any horror movie you can imagine.

If you are a male Angler fish on tinder do not swipe right! Just settle down with some Kleenex and bring up the Deep Sea World webpage....the alternate in not worth it! Males proven to be the weaker sex yet again When you think of an anglerfish, you probably think of something like the creature above: Big mouth. Gnarly teeth. Lure bobbing from its head. Endless nightmares following.

During the 19th century, when scientists began to discover, describe, and classify anglerfish from a particular branch of the anglerfish family tree—the suborder Ceratioidei—that’s what they thought of, too. The problem was that they were only seeing half the picture. The specimens that they were working with were all female, and they had no idea where the males were or what they looked like. Researchers sometimes found some other fish that seemed to be related based on their body structure, but they lacked the fearsome maw and lure typical of ceratioids and were much smaller—sometimes only as long as six or seven millimeters—and got placed into separate taxonomic groups. It wasn’t until the 1920s—almost a full century after the first ceratioid was entered into the scientific record—that things started to become a little clearer. In 1922, Icelandic biologist Bjarni Saemundsson discovered a female ceratioid with two of these smaller fish attached to her belly by their snouts. He assumed it was a mother and her babies, but was puzzled by the arrangement. “I can form no idea of how, or when, the larvae, or young, become attached to the mother. I cannot believe that the male fastens the egg to the female,” he wrote. “This remains a puzzle for some future researchers to solve.” When Saemundsson kicked the problem down the road, it was Charles Tate Regan, working at the British Museum of Natural History in 1924, who picked it up. Regan also found a smaller fish attached to a female ceratioid. When he dissected it, he realized it wasn’t a different species or the female angler’s child. It was her mate. The “missing” males had been there all along, just unrecognized and misclassified, and Regan and other scientists, like Norwegian zoologist Albert Eide Parr, soon figured out why the male ceratioids looked so different. They don’t need lures or big mouths and teeth because they don’t hunt, and they don’t hunt because they have the females. The ceratioid male, Regan wrote, is “merely an appendage of the female, and entirely dependent on her for nutrition.” In other words, a parasite. When ceratioid males go looking for love, they follow a species-specific pheromone to a female, who will often aid their search further by flashing her bioluminescent lure. Once the male finds a suitable mate, he bites into her belly and latches on until his body fuses with hers. Their skin joins together, and so do their blood vessels, which allows the male to take all the nutrients he needs from his host/mate’s blood. The two fish essentially become one. With his body attached to hers like this, the male doesn't have to trouble himself with things like seeing or swimming or eating like a normal fish. The body parts he doesn’t need anymore—eyes, fins, and some internal organs—atrophy, degenerate and wither away, until he’s little more than a lump of flesh hanging from the female, taking food from her and providing sperm whenever she’s ready to spawn.

Extreme size differences between the sexes and parasitic mating aren’t found in all anglerfish. Throughout the other suborders, there are males that are free-swimming their whole lives, that can hunt on their own and that only attach to the females temporarily to reproduce before moving along. For deep-sea ceratioids that might only rarely bump into each other in the abyss, though, the weird mating ritual is a necessary adaptation to keep mates close at hand and ensure that there will always be more little anglerfish. And for us, it’s something to both marvel and cringe at, a reminder that the natural world is often as strange as any fiction we can imagine. Naturalist William Beebe put it nicely in 1938, writing, “But to be driven by impelling odor headlong upon a mate so gigantic, in such immense and forbidding darkness, and willfully eat a hole in her soft side, to feel the gradually increasing transfusion of her blood through one’s veins, to lose everything that marked one as other than a worm, to become a brainless, senseless thing that was a fish—this is sheer fiction, beyond all belief unless we have seen the proof of it.” You can actually see this on the wonderful BBC documentary “Blue Planet”