From Ocean to Aquarium: A Tale of Seven-Arms
By Sharyl Crossley, Aquarist

 


Shortly after the tropical storms of the 2002 hurricane season a not-quite fully grown octopus crawled from the surf onto the flattened Dauphin Island beach. After losing one arm to an unknown assailant, the cunning and normally nocturnal invertebrate braved the afternoon sun in search of a good meal. Preferring small crustaceans and fish, the octopus located a pile of discarded bait that would do just fine. At about the same moment, a student studying marine life approached the animal. She knew that, although related to animals such as oysters, snails, chitons, clams, and slugs, this particular mollusk belonged to a group of animals known as cephalopods. Included with over 600 different species of squid, octopus, cuttlefish, and nautilus, this appeared to be a common octopus (Octopus vulgaris). The student gently scooped the animal into a five-gallon bucket with some seawater, and took him to the Estuarium at the Dauphin Island Sea Lab. Here the undersized octopus was carefully acclimated to an exhibit tank by the aquarists and allowed to adjust to his new home.

After a few days, the octopus began greedily accepting pieces of cut seafood and exploring his aquarium. Brilliant color changes from white to dark red and everything in between, combined with appearing and disappearing ridges and bumps, were always included in his daily show for visitors. From a cave in the back of the aquarium, arms often stretched out to investigate a hand or face pressed against the outside of the tank. These interactions soon revealed that the once missing eighth appendage had begun to regenerate. Within a month, the damaged limb was indistinguishable from the other seven. Over the next ten months the specimen reached his full size (approximately 24 inches from one arm tip to another when fully stretched), and continued to fascinate on-lookers by showing them exactly what it means to be an octopus.

At the end of July 2003, this octopus finished his life cycle as all octopus must do. He had stopped eating about a month earlier, and became increasingly reclusive and unresponsive. Although the Estuarium staff were extremely saddened to see this occur, there was nothing that could be done to change this natural sequence of events. O. vulgaris typically has a life span of about 18 to 24 months. With half of that time period most likely spent in the wild, our octopus had spent the remaining half of his life teaching and inspiring humans of all ages. He served as an invaluable ambassador for other octopus, cephalopods, and marine life in general.