Elusive and camera shy

In my experience, the most difficult organisms to photograph in the wild are staurozoans. Even birds in flight are easier. The problem with staurozoans is where they live. I never see them in calm, still pools, where taking pictures would be easy. Instead, they seem to like surge channels where the water constantly sloshes back and forth, and even in the few seconds between a wave coming in and receding they never really stop moving. Their bodies are extremely soft and squishy, so the slightest current causes them to flutter and make blurry photos. When they are emersed their bodies don’t really look like anything except a soggy booger, so they aren’t recognizable as staurozoans unless they are underwater. And when underwater they don’t hold still, and so on and so forth.

Still, finding them is always a treat, even if I can’t capture photographic proof. They really are extremely gorgeous creatures.

They are also enigmatic creatures. Much of staurozoan biology, including their evolutionary relationships, remains poorly understood. Until recently the staurozoans were considered a subgroup of the Scyphozoa, the taxon that includes the large medusae such as moon jellies (Aurelia spp.) and sea nettles (Chrysaora spp.). However, using data from more extensive morphological and molecular studies, most taxonomists now agree that the Staurozoa should be elevated to a level equivalent to the Scyphozoa. In other words, the staurozoan lineage probably evolved alongside, but separate from, the scyphozoan lineage.

Whatever their evolutionary history and relationships, what we know about staurozoans is very limited. They are considered to be stalked jellies (hence their previously assumed close affinity to the scyphozoans) that do not have a separate polyp stage. Their bodies consist of an adhesive peduncle, or stalk, that attaches to algae or surfgrasses, and a calyx or goblet-shaped portion surrounded by eight tapering arms. Each of the eight arms is topped with a puffball of stinging tentaches which are uses to catch food and presumably to defend the animal against predators. The mouth is located in the center of the calyx, usually lifted up on a short stalk called a manubrium. The animal feeds by capturing prey on the tentacles and flexing the arm so the food is brought to the mouth. Staurozoans are not permanently attached and can sort of ‘walk’ with a somersault-like motion, flipping end-over-end.

Haliclystus ‘sanjuanensis‘ at Franklin Point grows to a length and diameter of ~3 cm, although most of the ones that I see are smaller than that. The most common color is this reddish brown, but I’ve also seen them in a gorgeous bottle green that makes them much easier to see against the background of their habitat. I usually see them attached to pieces of red algae, but I’m not sure they actually prefer red algae to either green or brown algae. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one attached to a rock.

Last week I had one of those moments in the intertidal when I felt something stuck on my finger and I couldn’t get rid of it. That happens frequently, with small bits of algae getting caught on everything; usually I just flick my hand and they go flying off. But this thing wouldn’t leave. I finally stuck my hand in the water to rinse it off, and saw that I had been glommed onto by a small staurozoan!

See how the animal stuck to me with its tentacles, while its peduncle is still attached to a piece of Ulva?

As I mentioned, not much is known about these strange animals. They possess the stinging cells to prove their inclusion within the Cnidaria, but are aberrant medusae which stick to algae instead of swimming around in the water column. Their life cycle is more or less cnidarian-like, but their planula is non-ciliated. Their ecological relationships haven’t really been studied at all.

Which is why this photograph is so informative. It’s not a great picture, by any means, but it shows a glimpse of how staurozoans interact with other species.

This is a picture of two animals, a staurozoan (H. ‘sanjuanensis’) and a nudibranch (Hermissenda opalescens). Both of these animals are predators. Hermissenda is well known for its affinity for general cnidarian prey, from which it steals the stinging cells to defend its own body (a behavior known as kleptocnidae). But the staurozoan should be quite capable of defending itself. So, who is doing the eating, and who is being eaten?

Given the dastardly nature of Hermissenda, I’d bet on it as the eater. Those damned nudibranchs have to spoil everything! The staurozoan will probably sustain damage, perhaps losing a tuft of tentacles, but should be able to regrow the lost parts. And the sting of the staurozoan may keep the nudibranch from eating as much as it would like. That’s the thing. We just don’t know.

I’ll definitely be keeping an eye out for the staurozoans at Franklin Point the rest of this tide season. I may even bring a few back to the lab for closer inspection; my collecting permit allows me to do so. I could then photograph them under controlled conditions and hopefully get some better pictures. I find these animals very intriguing, being both so clearly cnidarian-like and simultaneously so inscrutable. I always did like a good mystery story!