I quit eating octopuses years ago when I truly got serious about scuba diving. I cherished my interactions with these highly intelligent creatures, so I just couldn't be a part of their demise. I still eat seafood, just not the characters I've made a personal connection with.
I recently upgraded to a serious new camera with an involved underwater housing and this week took it diving for the very first time. I was so excited to get it in the water, and wasn't sure what I would shoot. I was hoping for a nudibranch (sea slug) that would hold still while I fidgeted with the settings and experimented. I mean, there's bound to be a huge learning curve with the new toy, right?
What I met was so much better.
She was about thirty feet from me when I spotted her, and I approached slowly. She did the same thing all octopuses do when they see a diver and tucked down, reducing her size to hide in a hole. Because they don't have bones in their body, octopus can really make themselves shrink.
Before she disappeared, I took this photo. This is what most of my octopus photos in the past (that I have felt really lucky to capture) have looked like. (Hint: She's that perfectly camouflaged reddish bit in the center.)
Usually, I leave, and when I get twenty feet or so away, the octopus will come halfway out to check and see if I'm gone. They're curious, they can't help but watch us go. But this particular morning, I decided to try something different. There was a sand patch nearby so I lay in it, careful to keep my fins up from touching the surrounding coral. And then, silly as it seems, I put it out there. I explained to the octopus that I had no intention of hurting her, or eating her or molesting her by pulling her out of her hole. I made my energy as small as possible and tried to tell her I was not a threat. I was in wonder of who she is, I wouldn't touch her or disturb her at all - I merely wanted to see her, to photograph her.
She peeked a black eye out of the hole's entrance and looked at me. I held very still, and yet, you just can't hide bubbles. But other than breathing, I was the epitome of peace.
The more she realized I wasn't a threat, the farther she came out of her hole until I could see all eight legs and watch her hearts beat, watch her breathe. She changed texture, but not color unless I moved another inch forward.
Soon we were about two feet from one another. I could see the individual chromatophors (color changing cells) on her skin. I was awestruck. Because, well, let me put it this way - on my official nametag as an employee of the Westin Hotel, under my name it states my passion as: cephalopods. I'm fascinated by them and here I was, having a staring contest with an older, more experienced, curious one.
They say octopus have a vivid memory and can recognize specific humans, even when those people change clothes. I hope she remembers our agreement next time too.
The octopus allowed me to stay and hang out with her for half an hour. I felt blessed, ecstatic, grateful, and was the first one to leave. She obviously had important octo things to do, after all.
I find this same principle to be true while traveling. When there is a language barrier, it is the energy you exude that makes a connection, that tells someone if you are dangerous or safe. Without speaking a word, you can be of peace, show your respect and make a new friend.
