Sunday, May 26, 2024

Duxbury Reef

 

Opalescent Nudibranch at Duxbury Reef

The 8 a.m. low tide (minus 1.2 feet!) and only a slight breeze were enough to get me out of bed and into the Memorial Day weekend traffic to visit Duxbury Reef just south of Point Reyes. It's a long and winding road to get there, but I did get to enjoy a couple of Beatles songs on the way. 

Traffic was a non-issue at that hour, and even my return trip to San Francisco was fine at about 11 a.m. I returned by way of Rock Spring on Mt. Tam, where the parking area was quite full, with many more cars still on their way up the mountain. 

The only bummer was pulling into my garage when I got home and having no Fuzzy Girl come out to greet me.


I believe this is a clam with at least its exhalant siphon showing (and maybe its inhalant siphon to the right?). You can see little tan tubes of clam poop in the pool. I didn't notice that white cloudy stuff to the left of the clam until I pulled up the photo at home, but I don't think it's a reflection or other photographic artifact.


I liked how these little "leaves" of coralline algae were staking out this rock in much the same way as some lichens do on land.


Giant Green Anemones


Pink Volcano Barnacle


This was one of only two Ochre Sea Stars I saw all morning. The other was orange colored, and both looked healthy. They were definitely smaller than the ones I saw recently at Mile Rock Beach.


The anemone beckons....


I can't resist beautiful beds of fanned-out coralline algae in clear tidepools.


Aggregating Anemones do their thing in a tidepool grotto.


Although I was the first person on the reef, I eventually had lots of company, many of whom were children. When one of them exclaimed "Octopus!" I kept my ears open. Unfortunately, as soon as Mom took a look, the octopus turned into an anemone.


Mussel Beach


This is the same 'branch as the one in the top picture, as it continues its glide up some leafy algae.


When you find one of these guys, you often find others nearby. I liked how this one's orange-tipped cerata are hanging in the current.


I think this is a Brooding Anemone. Completely exposed to the air at this point, it has pulled into itself to retain moisture.


This is a tiny orange sea cucumber (Cucumaria miniata), which I first saw at Fitzgerald Marine Reserve, mistaking it at the time for a nudibranch.


This little six-rayed sea star could have hidden behind a quarter. Maybe even a nickel. This was one of only two I saw all morning (and the only one in range to photograph).


I'm thinking this is a clam siphon again, only really opened up this time. I love how crazy this thing looks. You think you're going to eat a clam, and then this thing pops out and eats you!


Sometmies a sea anemone will be inside-out. I saw two like this, and I believe it's a way for the anemone, which has no anus (poor thing), to regurgitate the indigestible parts of its prey.


I gently tried to pick up this shell, but it turned out to be occupied. I don't think I've ever found a live one before. It might be Ceratostoma foliatum (iNaturalist).


While I was unsuccessfully trying to figure out how to photograph a Hilton's aeolid that was too far into the tidepool to reach without having to take off my shoes, pull up my pants, and wade in, someone nearby called out that they'd seen a nudibranch. I wandered over with the hope of seeing a new species, but nope.


At first I thought the upside-down crab on the bottom was trying to turn itself over, but it was just the hermit crabs (living in turban snail shells) moving the dead crab's legs as they tried to devour the meat inside. Quite a few other hermit crabs  of various sizes were quickly crawling toward the feast.


Here's a Purple Sea Urchin with its tube feet projecting farther out than its spines. Despite their name, these tube feet are made less for walking than for bringing food to the urchin's mouth, and even for breathing.


Universe of spines and tube feet.


Keyhole Limpet


This phone snap shows how exposed Duxbury Reef remained, even a couple of hours after the peak of low tide.

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