The archipelago of Bocas del Toro is a biodiversity hotspot
with both lowland tropical rain forest and coral reefs, which are the most biodiverse
terrestrial and marine ecosystems on earth, respectively. For this reason, I
was thrilled to have the opportunity to study in this location. I had never
visited a coral reef, not to mention snorkeled or observed any marine ecosystem
firsthand, and coming primarily from an entomological background, I really
lacked knowledge in fish biology and other invertebrate life, most of which
occurs in the ocean. Because of this, everything I experienced both at the
coral reefs and out of the water in lecture was new to me. Before speaking
about the coral reefs as I experienced them, it is important for me to
emphasize the vulnerability of the both the forest and marine ecosystems.
Islands consist of extremely diverse habitats packed with high biodiversity and
intricate interspecific interactions that maintain balance, making them both
unique and fragile – perturbations in ecosystems (including human-induced ones)
such as decline/loss of certain species can have profound cascading effects if
there is no other species to fill in their functional role. Island species tend
to be distinct from mainland ones since geographical isolation has allowed for
divergence as well as the accumulation of adaptations specific to the island
dynamics. One example that was evident in Bocas del Toro was the yellow morph
of the poison dart frog Oophaga pumilio,
most famous for its red and blue (strawberry/blue jeans) morph that can be
found in areas such as La Selva. Since each island in Bocas del Toro has been
isolated for thousands of years, there is a distinct color morph found on each
of them.
Because I
had never snorkeled before, it was exhilarating to be able to see the expansive
coral reefs through almost crystal clear water just a few meters below me.
Prior to this moment, I had considered myself as a very terrestrial-oriented
person, but watching all the fish and invertebrates at work made me realize the
complexity and richness of life that was occurring in this foreign world. It
was as if I was swimming in an aquarium, except with seafloor activity packed
with unexpected creatures: sea urchins pulsated as I approached, starfish were
plastered against the sand, and coral reefs, sea grass, and sponges of every
color imaginable were present. I saw brain corals half the size of a small car,
teeming with tropical fish of assorted and attractive coloring. Many moments
left lasting impacts for me, and here I will share just a few of them. As I
entered the waters connecting the mangrove forest with the coral reefs, I saw a
large cloud of dust as if a large animal was kicking up sand. As I neared, a
large stingray exited the cloudy waters and rested on the sea floor under me. I
could see the edges of its body fluctuating as it moved and the gills near its
eyes open and close every second or so. Its large barbed tail was both
impressive and mildly alarming since it measured a little under a meter. When
my friend, Sequoia, moved around to the backside of the ray I was able to get a
better idea of its size, and I felt honored that this sea animal would allow us
humans as poorly-equipped aquatic beings to observe it. One of my goals of the
trip was to find a cephalopod, so I was very excited to find several squid in
deeper waters. I am not a very good snorkeler, so diving down to get a good look
at the squid took a lot of effort on my part, but I ended up diving down dozens
of times just to be able to be in closer proximity to these remarkable beings.
Cephalopods intrigue me since such a developed nervous system and intelligence
has evolved in a taxon that fundamentally differs in structure to that of humans
and other vertebrates.
Another
time I was following a large school of fish, each about 1/5 of a meter in
length. Since these fish were larger than fish in other schools I had been
surrounded by, I briefly thought: how cool would that be if I saw a predator
nearby? Almost instantaneously, I decided to look in front of me in the water,
since I had been looking down, and a couple of meters ahead floated a large
barracuda. I could not believe how big it was at first, but after moving my
head and realizing my depth perception was accurate, I understood that I was
looking at a 4.5-5 foot animal, almost as long as I am tall. Although the
barracuda held a stern and focused expression, it didn’t seem to mind my
presence or perceive me as a threat. After a couple of seconds it slowly swam
away from me, and as I followed, it casually slipped into the darkness. Like in
most of my experience underwater, I felt such a privilege to be able to see
life that lives in a medium that is not my element.
Christian Perez
Harvard University
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