My first experience diving with mating squid was in September of 2000, during a rare late summer event off La Jolla Shores in San Diego, California. To date, it still ranks as one of my all-time favorite dives. Hovering at fifty feet, encased in darkness, I watched in spellbound fascination as tens of thousands of mating squid pulsed in front of my light, and wave after wave of predators swooped past to feed. There were harbor seals, California sea lions, leopard sharks, stingrays, bat rays, guitarfish, and even cormorants flying by underwater. None of them paid me any attention as they tirelessly bounced off every inch of my body. Midway through the dive, something big hit me from behind, spun me around, and scared me silly. I don’t know if the culprit was a sea lion, shark, bat ray, or something otherworldly. Perhaps it is simply better not to know. My adrenaline was pumping on overdrive for the remainder of that dive. While I do not have pictures from that epic night, I was lucky enough to photograph another squid orgy this past December.
Common market squid (Loligo opalescens) live in the eastern Pacific Ocean, ranging from Alaska down to Baja California, Mexico. They migrate in gigantic schools and have a lifespan of only twelve to fourteen months. These creatures grow quickly: from hatchlings to sexual maturity in as little as three months. Market squid reproduce in a continuous spawning activity that can last for weeks or even months. Commonly called squid runs, these spawning events typically occur after dark, on muddy or sandy bottoms above submarine canyons. During heavy squid runs, the mating activity may even continue through the daylight hours.
Southern California squid runs typically happen during the colder winter months but if conditions are right, they can occur in late summer or fall. On those years when the squid migrate up from their deep-water homes to mate at depths shallow enough for recreational diving, this nighttime activity should not be missed. Being engulfed in the mating frenzy can be an awe-inspiring experience. The squid tend to gravitate to dive lights and swarm from every direction, often making it difficult to see more than a few feet. Adding in the occasional sea lion, bat ray, or shark could force you into sensory overload. (Don’t forget about your depth, air supply, and dive buddy.) Luckily, turning off or shielding the light occasionally will allow you to catch your breath, disperse the teeming squid, and get your bearings.
Squid are members of the Mollusca phylum, from the class known as Cephalopods. Their relatives include octopus, cuttlefish, and the chambered nautilus. Common market squid are twelve inches long, iridescent white in color, and like other members of their family, capable of changing color in reaction to their environment. When a male grasps onto a female during mating, its arms and tentacles change from white to a deep reddish-brown. This may be a sign of excitement, or perhaps a warning for other males to stay away. However, even with the warning, it is not uncommon to see several males attached to a single female, each attempting to mate with her.
After mating, female squid deposit a single, six-to-eight inch egg casing containing 200 to 300 eggs into the sandy bottom and fertilize the eggs with sperm packets placed in their mantle cavity by the male during mating. Millions of mating squid produce immense numbers of egg casings, which create enormous egg beds that can cover acres of the sea floor. Females are thought to be able to produce twenty-to-thirty egg casings before they die in this terminal breeding process.
As the squid eggs mature and develop, the egg casings start to yellow and turn brown. In three to five weeks, depending on the water temperature, the eggs produce hatchlings that look like tiny adults. Paralarvae, as the new hatchlings are called, are dispersed by ocean currents to start their brief life cycle anew.
Market squid are also commonly known as calamari, and frequently appear as a fried appetizer on restaurant menus. They are a good source of protein, riboflavin, selenium, and B12. In 2010, over 250 million pounds of market squid were caught off California’s coast, representing the bulk of the world’s harvest. In the wild, market squid are a vital food source for a large assortment of marine mammals, birds, and fish.
Photographing from within the thick soup of mating squid is challenging. The constantly changing scene dancing in front of your lights makes it very difficult to compose properly, and the longer you wait for a shot, the more the squid congregate and obscure the front of your lens—or at least that’s what it feels like. In order to capture the action without the squid blocking out the entire landscape, it is necessary to point your lights away from the desired backdrop and then bring them back again once the chaos has cleared. It becomes a game of moving the lights in and out to control the ebb and flow of the squid, in hopes of encapsulating a manageable number of subjects in the frame.
A daytime dive during a squid run reveals expansive egg beds, now devoid of the thousands of squid in the water column, along with throngs of scavengers feasting on the dead and dying squid. Angel sharks, bat rays, sheep crabs, spiny lobster, and countless other critters stuff themselves on the casualties from the previous night’s orgy. It is absolutely fascinating to watch the circle of life in action and observe how Mother Nature uses the demise of one generation to provide for so many others. If you have the opportunity to witness a squid run in person, I highly recommend the experience. Bring your sense of adventure and prepare to be amazed.
Text and Photos by Matthew Meier, Matthew Meier Photography
Check out his photography at: www.matthewmeierphoto.com
matt@matthewmeierphoto.com