I learned to dive over eight years ago, in Puget Sound. My first dives were magical (when I could stop thinking about survival and look around me) because of the amazing profusion of life that covered almost every surface. We had starfish -- incredible numbers and diversity of starfish. We had purple starfish and starfish with uncountable arms that glowed like little sunsets when a light hit them. We had starfish that had one background color, and a bright, contrasting stripe down each arm. We had starfish with long arms and mottled skins. There were starfish everywhere. They were amazing.
Over the years, they became starfish. They were everywhere, and they became rather uninteresting. Until I picked up a camera, and discovered these wonderful animals would SIT STILL for portraits, and made lovely foreground interest for my lame attempts at wide angle shots. But they were starfish, and they were everywhere. They were background noise. The only time I really noticed them was when a student would get excited about seeing them.
Dive after dive after dive, I ignored those humble animals, because they were always there.
Now they aren't. A horrible wasting disease has ravaged the West Coast, killing almost all the sunflower stars in many locations, and decimating the populations of our beautiful purple stars and other species. Our dive sites, which had a "background" carpet of color and shape, are much poorer for their absence. Last night, I dove a local site, and when I spotted a clump of healthy starfish, I actually signaled my buddy to come over and share the happiness with me.
I don't know where you dive, but I'll almost guarantee that there are common, humble species you are learning not to see, because they are always there. All I want to say is that someday, they may not be; perhaps it is worth the time to stop and marvel at the commonplace, before it becomes rare.
Over the years, they became starfish. They were everywhere, and they became rather uninteresting. Until I picked up a camera, and discovered these wonderful animals would SIT STILL for portraits, and made lovely foreground interest for my lame attempts at wide angle shots. But they were starfish, and they were everywhere. They were background noise. The only time I really noticed them was when a student would get excited about seeing them.
Dive after dive after dive, I ignored those humble animals, because they were always there.
Now they aren't. A horrible wasting disease has ravaged the West Coast, killing almost all the sunflower stars in many locations, and decimating the populations of our beautiful purple stars and other species. Our dive sites, which had a "background" carpet of color and shape, are much poorer for their absence. Last night, I dove a local site, and when I spotted a clump of healthy starfish, I actually signaled my buddy to come over and share the happiness with me.
I don't know where you dive, but I'll almost guarantee that there are common, humble species you are learning not to see, because they are always there. All I want to say is that someday, they may not be; perhaps it is worth the time to stop and marvel at the commonplace, before it becomes rare.