Fantastic Metropolis

Introduction

In July 1894, during the construction of Standard Oil magnate Henry Flagler’s East Coast Railway, railroad workers discovered the remains of several small “silver and green octopi with ten arms” stranded in the shallow pools left behind by dynamiting, draining, and other invasive earth-moving procedures. Perplexed, the workers brought the “octopi” to their foreman. The foreman showed them to the chief engineer, who, on the advice of his wife, sent the specimens, already rapidly decaying, to marine biologist Gerald Sanders at the University of Florida. Sanders examined them, consulted his reference books, classified the creature as the squid Fons floridanius (later changed to Fons volatilis), and promptly turned his attentions back to his first love, the Florida scrub jay (Aphelocoma coerulescens) (1) Given that even Seminole Indian records and accounts by early naturalists do not mention the squid, the 1894 Flagler^[1] railroad specimens constitute the first sightings of what would come to be known as the “Florida freshwater squid” or the “mayfly squid.”^[2]

Since this first sighting, the mayfly squid has remained something of a mystery outside of the specialized field of cephalopod studies, despite the occasional mention on television shows like the Discovery Channel’s Everglades: Florida’s Final Frontier (original airing June 15, 2000). Unlike such exotic fauna as the black acara fish (Chiclasoma biaculatum), the Cuban tree frog (Hyla septentrionalis), and, more recently, the nutria (Myocaster coypu), the mayfly squid has settled into its Florida environment with ease. Because it does not displace native species, form parasitic relationships, or cause damage to crops, the mayfly squid has never appeared on a Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services pest report. A study conducted by the Florida Department of Environmental Protection in 1985 concluded, in a typically laconic statement, that “the mayfly squid neither requires protection nor containment.” (2) The lack of good general information has been compounded by inaccuracies published in Florida travel guides. Two recent mentions of Sebring’s Festival of the Freshwater Squid, for example, describe it as “a celebration of squid worldwide” (3) and “a parade centered around the annual boating competition.” (4)

The purpose of the following overview is to provide non-cephalopod biologists and curious laypersons with an introduction to the mayfly squid that centers the squid within Florida’s rich naturalist tradition.^[3] This will include an examination of claims made by earlier experts, general information on squid’s physiology and habits, and my admittedly subjective assessment of the Festival.

By design, the seasoned cephalopod researcher will probably not find much of interest in this overview. I would refer such specialists to recent monographs by Mark Roberts, Garry Nurrish, and Vanessa Miller, published in the excellent journal Mollusca (Academic Press). For further general information, I refer all readers to the Cephalopod Base and the International Directory of Cephalopod Workers.

Early Naturalists’ Observations of the Mayfly Squid

Edith Johnson: A Pioneer in Mayfly Squid Studies

©2001 by Mark Roberts

The foremost early naturalist to study the mayfly squid was Edith Johnson (1876-1937), a protégé of the great Florida ecologist John Kunkel Small (1869-1938). In the early 1900s, while still a graduate student at Florida State University, Johnson made her initial reputation by publishing a dozen monographs on the mating and flower selection habits of the ruby-throated hummingbird. (5)

Johnson might have continued to study hummingbirds for many years, if not for an expedition to Lake Okeechobee in May of 1915, during which she observed tell-tale “flashes of green.” (6) Upon further investigation, Johnson was able to document the aftermath of a squid mating frenzy. Intrigued, Johnson decided to take a brief sabbatical from ornithological studies to study the squid. Her sabbatical would eventually turn into ten uninterrupted years of squid research.^[4]

What attracted Johnson to the mayfly squid? Biologist Henry Crawford, Johnson’s contemporary, believed she had intuited superficial similarities between the squid and her hummingbirds: both have high metabolic rates, short life spans, and delicate bodies. Both are highly maneuverable creatures built for sudden, extreme changes of direction. As Crawford remarked in 1923, “Dr. Johnson must have thought she was just changing environments, water for air, rather than making a radical leap.” (7)

Unfortunately, this change in environments led Johnson astray. Modern readers of her two books on the mayfly squid, The Strange World of the Freshwater Squid (1920) and Mysteries of the Freshwater Squid Revealed (1923), quickly become exasperated by the lack of specific detail and, more importantly, her blindness to the subject of silt.