It's not "background noise"

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TSandM

Missed and loved by many.
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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.
 
I loved the variety, abundance and colour of the stars I saw on my Victoria dive trips.
 
I had my first dives of the PNW last weekend (and first cold water dives to boot!)

My buddy kept on going on that I wouldn't see anything (and comparing it to my tropical dives). How wrong they were. Stars, while not hundreds, the dozens we saw were awesome. Small skinny brown ones moving quickly over the rocks, the big sunsets, and everything else we saw in between.

Then there were the thousands of shrimp and other crustaceans, fish and crabs scampering about on the rocks and cracks.

There is always something to see.

BRad
 
I know exactly what you mean. During my checkout dives in Monterey, we only had 2 ft vis, and were kept in the open sand where not a single sign of life was to be seen. Right after we were handed our temporary c-cards, my buddy and I rushed back into the ocean, giddy with excitement to dive on our own, and descended on the wall of the Breakwater, where a massive sunflower star appeared inches before our eyes. I had never seen something like it before. It was simply breathtaking in its color and beauty.

After diving Monterey for a few more months, and seeing hundreds of starfish, I no longer got excited about them, and they blended in with the rocks. But now that the wasting disease has ravaged our populations, I feel a pang of sadness after every dive. It was just months ago that I saw dozens...and now there is not a single sunflower starfish to be seen.
 
And there's STILL no answer to what is going on or why.

:-(

We're working on it!

That aside, I always love taking folks out who have never dove the places I dive frequently because they're invariably most excited by many of the things I disregard because I'm used to them.
 
That aside, I always love taking folks out who have never dove the places I dive frequently because they're invariably most excited by many of the things I disregard because I'm used to them.

The odd Nudibranchs that exists in the Galapagos, the daylight appearance of Cup Coral in the Maldives, the inability of most in the Red Sea to look beyond Sharks and wrecks- lot's if examples similar!
 
Sadly, divers who were lucky enough to dive the coral reefs of Southeast Asia twenty years ago are very familiar with the concept of the "background" flora fading into oblivion—along with the foreground. It is depressing, that's all there is to it.

Very few people care, and they are sorely outnumbered by the ones who don't, and by the ones who profit—in the short term—by treating this priceless legacy with contempt. The unmitigated enthusiasm that I once felt before a dive trip is now diluted by sadness at the pale facsimiles that pass for coral reefs these days.

I may just go back to sailing. Ignorance is bliss.
 
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.

Really well put!! Can't begin to describe how true this is all over the world! People take so many beautiful things or granted until hey are gone!
 
I'm often amused by those who focus almost exclusively on the marquee species such as the nudibranchs and overlook the common ones that often have far greater impact on ecosystem functioning. As a kelp forest ecologist, I'm interested in every critter that's part of the system and how they function within it. When I go to a new destination and ecosystem, I focus my camera on the most common species (but take time for the rare ones as well) since they usually have great impact on the system itself. When I was in Anilao (Philippines) last year, I think some of my friends were amused at my choices for filming... gorgonians, corals, common fish, etc (although I would also stop to document the beautiful branchs as well).
 

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