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It's #WorldOctopusDay, so here's a story. When I was about 22 I worked as a naturalist at the Vancouver Aquarium (@vanaqua)...
As well as talking to people about the exhibits, putting on puppet shows, narrating beluga whale sessions, etc., I was on the dive team...
Which meant that 1 or 2 times a day I'd be in the water with the sharks or the belugas, or most relevant to #WorldOctopusDay, the PNW tank
One day on my way into the water, the aquarist who took care of the PNW tank told me that he'd seen some parasites on the octupus.
(I'm going by memory right now, but I'd guess this particular octopus was about 30lbs, and about 12 feet arm-to-arm)
It was typically about a 10% chance of seeing the octopus on any given dive, so I didn't give it much thought. But sure enough he came out.
He ended up just within arm's reach & I could see a few of the parasites that'd been mentioned. So I reached out & plucked one off.
The next day, I was in the tank for another dive & the octupus came out and creepy toward me. Again, I reached out & plucked off a parasite.
(A pause to remember this animal was 12+ feet arm to arm. His tentacles were as thick as an adult's arm and 5x as strong)
This is not the end of the story.
For the next month, every time I'd get in the water, that octupus would emerge from his den and meet me at 'our spot'.
He didn't do this for any of the other divers. Just me. And he would know it was me the very second I got in the water. (Smell? Breathing?)
Alas, nothing lasts forever. One day I got into the tank and the octopus didn't come out. Maybe he'd learned all he needed to know about me?
