Times of the Islands Fall 2021

my mask and nuzzled
it with her head and
then went back to her
den and watched me.
I could not explain
the
overwhelming
emotion that rushed
through me; I was leveled
to tears. In the
eight months I had
been visiting this family
this was the first
time they had shown
this intimate form of
communication. Had
I actually earned so
much trust that they
would visibly show
me affection? Was it
possible? I went and
checked on Peep, but
she was still in her burrow
with only her face peeking out as usual, but she did
not retreat and this was a subtle, but notable, difference.
As I swam away from this encounter, I could not
explain the full effect of the experience I had just had.
I surfaced and told my captain and fellow crewmate that
I wanted them to come with me to see my babies. They
geared up, we stepped in, and off we went. Once we were
there I demonstrated that I wanted them to extend their
hand or a shell to Ollie, and one at a time they did. Ollie
came out and shared a moment with each of them—now
the feeling was more overwhelming. Did he trust me
enough to understand that I would never bring danger to
him? Is this why he demonstrated the behavior with them?
Had I inadvertently made him trust all humans or was he
simply communicating some sort of message to us?
The next week I was going to go see Ollie and his girls
between dives so I could get some video of them without
distractions, so my crewmate led divers to see them. It
was always a stressful time for me waiting for them to
come back and assure me that Ollie was fine, so I waited,
pacing the deck. My crewmate barely had her face clear
of the water when her eyes told me what I did not want to
hear. She told me she could not find them.
The months Kelly Currington spent with “Ollie” and his family of jawfish inspired
powerful emotions and this underwater tribute.
As I’m typing this, that lump in my throat is huge, my
chest tightens, and the tears flow as if it were that day
again. I quickly climbed into my gear, grabbed my camera
and swam as fast as I could to his burrow. I knew from
organize my thoughts.
quite a distance that
my heart was about
to be broken, and
my mask filled with
tears. Peering out of
Ollie’s burrow was little
Peep, with no sign
of Ollie. So I went and
looked for Sapphire;
she was gone as well. I
swam all over the area
looking for them—
nothing. They were
gone. It took more
than 20 minutes for
me to gather myself. I
hovered above his burrow
crying. What had
happened? How had
something gotten both
of them and not Peep?
How? Why? I could not
Then I saw something, and it gave me some hope.
Sapphire’s burrow was filled in with sand and rubble,
the same as Emerald’s had been when he left. This told
me that most likely they were not taken by a predator,
but probably left of their own accord. As a mating pair it
made sense that they would go together and this would
also explain why Peep was still there. It was the only
explanation that made any sense, or at least the only one
my mind and heart would accept.
Had their behavior with me on my last visit been
their way of saying good-bye? Did they know? My heart
believes that this special little soul and his beautiful lady
were somehow communicating that we had a connection.
I spent the next half hour gathering all the broken
coral and shells from their burrows and creating a tribute
to the most amazing little creature who had taught me so
much, who had allowed me to share a small piece of his
world, and who showed me exactly how much one’s heart
could connect to another species.
Remember to slow down and look at all the creatures
we encounter, because they are all living beings and they
can touch your soul in ways you can’t even imagine. You
never know, you might come across one of Ollie and
Sapphire’s offspring—they are definitely out there! a
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