My Favorite Fish in the Sea

By Anna Lee

           This past week, the OTS Tropical Biology class took a break from life in Costa Rica and visited Isla Colon, one of the largest islands in the Bocas del Toro archipelago on the Caribbean side of Panama. While there, we completed a research projected investigating how territory defense in one species of damselfish affects herbivory of sea grass at varying distances from fish territories. To see firsthand how defensive these colorful, four-inch long fish can be, we spent a good portion of our week floating in the tropical waters and just simply observing their behavior.

Over three days, my partner and I recorded observations for seven fish. Most of the time, they were pretty predictable. Another fish would swim through the space and our focus fish would jump out of the coral they called home to remind the invader that they did not belong there. Then, there was Lazy Boy. Lazy Boy was a special fish that refused to follow the status quo. Not only did he fail to guard his territory from fish that wanted to steal food from his space, he would frequently wonder into his neighbor’s reef, leading to a quick attack.

            After watching Lazy Boy’s more…relaxed style of defense, he quickly became my favorite fish in the reef. Of course, there were fish that were more colorful, like the parrot fish nibbling their way across the sea floor or more dangerous like the barracuda reflecting the sunlight as they hunted, but I wasn’t able to appreciate their lives the way I could after spending time observing one lazy damselfish. Suddenly, I was aware of how exposed the lives of fish in our reefs are. They can’t escape the watchful eye of a student by hiding in the trees the way a terrestrial animal can. They live their lives in the open. They don’t understand the threats humans pose to our marine environment and most importantly, they don’t have anywhere to go if their reef disappears.

            In the moments we were not observing fish, we were taking in the coral reef as a whole. For the most part, the reef we were in was incredibly healthy. There were no signs of coral bleaching, an issue that is decimating reefs around the world (including other areas of Panama). Nor did we encounter commercial fisherman or tourists snorkeling the area. Even so, it is impossible to avoid noticing how humans have hurt this unique environment. The crystal-clear water can’t hide the beer cans littering the sand. The soft crunching of the parrotfish using their beaks to eat coral doesn’t drown out the sound of the motor boats passing by. Looking around at these charismatic fish that have evolved to survive in this environment, I was scared.

            At this point in my biology studies, I of course know how human influence has caused our oceans to change. Temperatures are rising with the global climate and increased levels of CO₂ in the air have caused some areas of our sea to become more acidic, leading to a decline in the life that can survive there. Unfortunately, I just didn’t care. Being raised in the Midwest has not made me particularly comfortable around the ocean, and I had never seen many tropical fish outside of the tanks at my local pet store. Trying to understand the life of Lazy Boy has made me reconsider my thoughts. If I do not want to fight to protect the ocean as a whole, I can fight to protect the life of one small lazy fish, my favorite fish in the sea.