BENEATH THE OCEAN BLANKET

The Magic of Shape

During the Sangamon Interglaciation there wasn't any world ice.

What depth did that increased water add to the world's oceans?

What a wonder that prehistoric ocean floor would have offered.

This is an easy dive. It's about 8 or 9 feet at high tide. We're opposite the lee side of a sand bar which almost reaches the surface. To the west of us are the barrier islands that protect the mainland.

The ocean bottom is covered with worm shells. You can't see the shells because they are covered by a thin layer of sand. What you see is the delicate feathery fans they send up to filter out small creatures from the passing water.

Tiny fish dart around the feathers. When a starfish comes close, the tendrils withdraw beneath the sand. Scallops, the size of saucers, litter the botttom. Their brightly colored tentacles, waving food into their shells, are punctuated with dark metalic blue eyespots. A variety of other small clams make this place their home as well.
That's what these snails are all about. They're hunters. Their teeth are part of a strange sawing kind of system called a radula. The radula turns back and forth creating a perfectly round hole in the shell of the shellfish it's eating.
Standing there, looking out at the waves, the clean breeze cools your face and tosses your hair. It takes a moment to realize that in the future this will be a wind-blown desert.
Tip yourself up for a moment to see above the waves. We're heading for those islands to the east. The bottom drops away . Eel grass will thin into patches. Finally, the velvet rays of sunlight, dancing down, display patterns on a sandy bottom. It almost looks like a desert with cloud shadows passing by. Here and there we see the holes made by a comical small fish. It's a blenny. It has a short face with large eyes and it hovers just outside its borough. If any other blenny comes around, it chases it away. Clams live beneath the sand and moon snails hunt them. The extinct Murex (left) hunted there also.

Climbing up toward the surface reveals beds of stingray's. Arrow crabs, scurry over the rippled bottom, looking for morsels. They haven't changed in many millions of years.

The wave motion tumbles shells into a hash. Broken halves litter the bottom in a mosaic of fantistic colors. The ribbons of sunlight dazzel this kaleidoscopeic palette with sweeping rhythms.

On the other side of the barrier island is a whole new symphomy of life. But, for us, other times whisper in the winds which ruffel the surface of the Gulf.