Something that I'd like to see more of among my 'snapshots': two clownfish (Amphiprion percula) actually in the same frame with both an integral and complete part of the picture. Anemonefishes can be supremely frustrating to capture on film because most species tend to move so frenetically and vanish and reappear within the protective veil of their host's tentacles (added to which is the technical difficulty of gaining focus on the subject at the right place and time). I seem to have become somehow 'adjusted' to anemonefish's rhythms, to some extent, and most of my photos of them these days at least turn out as in focus and showing the right parts of at least one of the anemone's fish. I put my disproportionate ability to take anemonefish pictures (only out of proportion, that is, to my ability with any other kind of animal) to shooting three rolls of clownfish photos in shallow water, under heavy surge, for Pete Buston (then a graduate student researcher from Cornell University, who was studying parental care in clownfish, and now a postdoctoral scientist in California), in 1997. Pete's assignment was a crash-course in Amphiprionology and a great way to test patience. I've also found anemonefishes to be an excellent and worthy way to use up rolls of film while I do extended safety/decompression stops after a good session of watching barracuda, so I've had plenty of practice with the wee beasties. Now, if only I could translate that relative success to getting a really good picture of a cleaning wrasse in action... (Restorf Island, Kimbe Bay)
The same pair of clownfish, looking as if they've sleepily posed for effect but actually in mid-hurtle as I loom above their little home. (Restorf Island, Kimbe Bay)
All of these images are of the true clownfish, or clown anemonefish — the 'classic' clownfish, the image of which adorns tote bags, stationary sets, and refrigerator doors (including my own) around the world. This small, exquisitely-patterned anemonefish is not the greatest swimmer and generally appears more timid than some of its relatives. Like many 'ornamental' species, demand for this anemonefish by home aquarists drives some non-sustainable collecting practices (particularly in places like the Philippines, though such practices have spread in geographic extent) that threaten the clownfish's habitats. This clownfish's home is on the starboard wing of a fully-laden USAAF bomber that was shot down in 1943...a decidedly anthropogenic habitat. (B-25 Mitchell wreck, Madang)
Two clownfish in their anemone on a reef around a lagoonal island (Wongat Island, Madang)
There's at least one thing in the sea cuter than the clownfish — a baby clownfish, in this case. This little fish is so small that it doesn't even have room yet for all of the white bands and saddles that make the adult clown anemonefish's pattern so striking. A few millimeters long, it's exceedingly hard to spot amid the anemone's waving tentacles, that provide it an excellent refuge. Not helping much, in terms of me spotting it (let alone snapping its picture), was a strong surge that had my body swinging back and forth in front of the anemone. I was on Pete Buston's turf (part of the area that he surveyed for clownfish just about every day for many months) and got the opportunity to appreciate a slightly different aspect of underwater observational research than I'd previously been involved in with my own work. (Wongat Island, Madang)
On a nearby anemone, a male clownfish fertilizes its mate's eggs while she — the larger of the two — looks on. If the female disappears, the largest male on the anemone will transform into a true female to replace her. I call this drive to become female as an adult the 'Ru Paul Effect' — the more technically-correct term is 'sequential hermaphroditism' (or, specifically, 'protandry,' meaning that the fish starts out as a male...the opposite case is called 'protogyny'). (Wongat Island, Madang)
A colony of clownfish with a nice view of the (very picturesque) reef on the lee side of Pig Island, toward a high-current shallow channel area that I have very bad memories of (having managed to get caught in what were basically rapids between Pig Island and the neighboring island — still, it's a beautiful spot). (Eel Gardens, Madang)
This clownfish was safely tucked away in its anemone at a site very close to Walindi (not frequently visited by guests of the resort) that offers quite a fascinating dive. The basic structure of the reef features a very steep-sided profile reminiscent of a mini-seamount. These inshore reefs offer encounters with quite different fauna than you'd find on the spectacular offshore seamounts and platform reefs that most people associate with Kimbe Bay. (The Crater, Kimbe Bay)
A pair of clown anemonefish, late in the afternoon, at the same reef. (The Crater, Kimbe Bay)
A clownfish at rest in the late afternoon. (The Crater, Kimbe Bay)
A clownfish checks to see whether the coast is clear from its anemone off a nearshore island (Restorf Island, Kimbe Bay)
Clownfish flit about their anemone on an isolated oceanic reef late in the day beneath the shadow of liveaboard dive boat, MV FeBrina. (May Reef, Kimbe Bay)