That's a Moray Monday: The Musical Edition

No that is NOT a moray at the top of this post! It's Michelle Mulholland, CORAL's Admin specialist and general miracle-maker extraordinaire sporting the ever popular fake mustache that makes its rounds throughout our offices. Why is she gracing Moray Monday? Because in addition to possessing amazing organizational support skills, she's also a songbird. Though considering our ocean focus, perhaps she's more of a siren (but a good kind).

Michelle is the star of this Moray Monday since she whipped together an amazingly appropriate ditty. So sit back and enjoy the lyrics to That's a Moray, sung to the tune of Dean Martin's major hit That's Amore:

When the sun’s in the sky and you’re riding the tide,
“That’s a moray!”
Like a snake that can swim, with sharp jaws on a hinge
That’s a moray!
Feed on fish (for a tasty dish, have a tasty fish)
or an unlucky crustacean
From their teeth (needle pointed teeth, jagged, pointed teeth)
There is no escaping

Whether black, blue or green, orange, yellow or red
That’s a moray!
When you see strange snout, from a hole, sticking out
That’s a moray!
If you’re surfing the net, reading Rick’s newest blog
on a Monday
Scuzza me, but you see, there’s no doubt, it must be
That’s a moray!

That's A Moray Monday: The Miriam Goldstein Edition

As some of you ocean science blog types may know, one of my colleagues--Miriam Goldstein (one-half of the oomph behind the utterly fantastic blog The Oyster's Garter)--has been in Curaçao for the past few weeks tormenting reef invertebrates, killing helpless fish, and likely grinding defenseless coral polyps under foot conducting research.

Shortly after arriving in Curaçao, Miriam reported being afflicted by a mystery sting on her hand. So painful was it that it caused her to entirely miss on a guest post at Coral Week at DSN, thus trumping my own lame-ass excuse for not guest posting on Coral Week due to an international speaking engagement and an inordinate fondness for drinking rum when not working.

This being Miriam's first foray into tropical reefs, she learned the hard way that tropical marine ecosystems are home to an evolutionary arms race of self-defense systems. She summed things up nicely with,

The moral of this story? Looky, no touchy is BY FAR the best way to hang out on a reef. Collecting tunicate samples is way more harrowing than I thought it would be. On top of the fireworm, I almost got nailed by an extraordinarily attractive and extraordinarily toothy Golden Moray yesterday. (Rick would be…so proud. Scroll down for his That’s a Moray Monday series with all the moray goodness you can handle. Except for the golden moray. Rick, do you take requests?)

Why yes I do, Miriam. Thanks for asking! But coming-up with an answer wasn't straight-forward.

The nightmare of common names left me with a few possible directions to pursue. Google-ing her initial ID, "Golden Moray," came-up with only 10 hits. The closest match was Gymnothorax melatremus which goes by the common name "Golden Moray" but also "Dwarf Moray" on Fish Base. But I ruled this species out as soon as I noticed its range seemed limited to the Indo-Pacific (Indonesia specifically). Well that's not close to Curaçao.

Turning to my bookshelf, I next did what any marine ecologist trained in systematics, cladistics, and the use of dichotomous keys would do: With a beer in hand I leafed through pretty pictures until I found a yellowish-golden moray eel. Reef Fish Identification: Florida, Caribbean, Bahamas by Paul Humann lists two candidate eels that might be Miriam's sighting. The first golden-colored eel was Gymnothorax saxicola, the "Honeycomb Moray," (see image at left). Typical coloration is shades of cream to yellow, yellow-brown, or brown. Check! Constantly opens and closes a mouth filled with needle-sharp teeth. Check! But wait, the Honeycomb moray's range rarely extends south of Bermuda. Also, it's preferred habitat is turtle grass beds, not coral reefs.

Which leaves me with the only other Caribbean, golden-colored, reef-dwelling suspect eel and the star of this week's Moray Monday.

Goldentail Moray
Gymnothorax miliaris

Goldentail?! Goldstein?! Wait a minute... I smell a set-up! Be that as it may, this is a doozy of a moray and I'm delighted Miriam's close encounter brought it to my attention.

From what I can tell from the color variation in photographed specimens on Fish Base, the Goldentail moray either has several color morphs or it is decidedly more yellowish in color as a juvenile. For comparison, here's one image of Gymnothorax miliaris from its taxonomic description:

Here's another from the same page:

They almost look like different species. Either of these resemble your stalker, Miriam?

The Goldentail moray reaches a maximum length of about 70 cm (2.3 ft). It ranges from the Western Atlantic (Bermuda and southern Florida) to the Antilles (can you say Curaçao?) and southeast Brazil. In the Eastern Atlantic it has been documented in St. Paul's Rocks, Cape Verde, Ascension and St. Helena islands as well as the Azores.

A benthic and solitary species, the Goldentail moray inhabits reefs and rocky shorelines usually to depths of 60 meters but prefers shallow to mid-range coral reefs. It is active during the day and sometimes seen hunting together with other reef predators. As troublesome as it was to initially ID, Paul Humann considers it to be one of the most common and easily recognized morays of West Indian reefs.

Despite a menacing appearance, the Goldentail moray is considered non-aggressive (like most morays). It's gaping-mouth appearance has more to do with respiration than threat posturing. Though I must again flaunt my morbid side by saying that since she denied us all a peek at her swollen, mystery-stung hand, the very least Miriam could do is bring back pictures of a moray bite to satisfy us ghouls. It doesn't have to be her own hand. That's what dive buddies are for!

Well, Miriam, I hope you enjoyed this tribute post. Just know that henceforth, Gymnothorax miliaris will always be fondly known to me as the "Goldenstein-tail moray." What it lacks in euphony it exceeds in mirth.

That's A Moray Monday: The Characters Thus Far

Since I took a break from my Moray Monday routine, I thought I might do a quick recap before diving back into the moray madness again. Weekly features can be more work than you initially realize, but since I do indeed like morays (and apparently so do some readers) I plan to keep the series going until I either run out of eels or run out of motivation.

So a quick recap of what we've seen thus far:

On the video front, we have seen evidence of profound human stupidity around moray eels; A Green Moray takes on an octopus; And some well deserved moray attacks as a result of harrassment.

Being dedicated to a multidisciplinary approach here at MBSL&S, we featured some original lyrics for the classic, romantic hit, That's a Moray.

I even found a way to slip Nick Nolte and a zombie/shark death match into Moray Monday's.

As far as species descriptions, I've already presented a veritable buffet of slippery delights:
Peppered Moray
Tiger Snake Moray
Zebra Moray
Dragon Moray
Chain Moray
Green Moray
Caribbean Spotted Moray
Fimbriated Moray
Snowflake Moray
Blue Ribbon Eel
And even Flotsam and Jetsum

We've even had a special post describing the amazing and recently discovered jaw-within-a-jaw of morays. My post and description of the scientific report from Nature scooped a lot of other blog commentary from the "bigger" blogs like Pharyngula and The Loom. But we here at MBSL&S are above such bragging. We are not, however, above referring to ourselves in the plural!

Next week, a brand new moray species recently described from the Red Sea (hat tip to Jason over at Cephalopodcast).

That's A Moray Monday: Or Meta-Moray Monday

A couple of weeks ago I did a quick round-up of the Moray eels showcased thus far in my weekly Moray Monday feature. In lieu of featuring a new species this week, I thought I'd step back a bit and see the forest for the trees. I realize I jumped into Moray Monday's without first providing a suitable moray primer. So excuse me while I get all meta on you and spend some time talking about morays in general.

In case you haven't been paying attention, Moray eels are large cosmopolitan eels of the family Muraenidae. There are approximately 200 species in 15 genera. The typical length of a moray is 1.5 m (5 ft), with the largest being the Slender Giant moray, Strophidon sathete, at up to 4 m (13 ft).

As members of a vertebrate group--teleost fish--renowned for morphological extravagance, morays have a particularly economical body plan. The dorsal fin of the moray extends from just behind the head, along the back and joins seamlessly with the caudal and anal fins. Most species lack pectoral and pelvic fins, adding to their snake-like appearance. Their eyes are rather small; morays rely on their highly developed sense of smell, lying in wait to ambush prey.

The body of the moray is often patterned to assist in camouflage. Interestingly, camouflage coloration and patterns can also being present inside the mouth. Their jaws are wide, with a snout that protrudes forward. They possess large teeth, well adapted to tear flesh as opposed to holding or chewing.

Discovered only last year and featured here on MBSL&S, Moray eels have a second set of jaws in their throat called pharyngeal jaws, which also possess teeth. When feeding, morays launch these jaws into the oral cavity, where they grasp struggling prey and transport it into the throat and down to the rest of the digestive system. Moray eels are the only known type of animal that uses pharyngeal jaws to actively capture and restrain prey.

Morays secrete a protective mucus over their smooth scaleless skin which contains a toxin in some species. Morays have much thicker skin and high densities of goblet cells in the epidermis that allows mucus to be produced at a higher rate than in other eel species. This allows sand granules to adhere to the sides of their burrows in sand-dwelling morays, making the walls of the burrow more permanent. Their small circular gills, located on the flanks far posterior to the mouth, require the moray to maintain a gape in order to facilitate respiration.

Morays are carnivorous and feed primarily on other fish, cephalopods, mollusks, and crustaceans. Groupers, other morays, and barracudas are among their few predators. There is a commercial fishery for several species, but some have been known to cause ciguatera fish poisoning. While some species of moray will actively hunt along the reef face or in sea grass beds and tide pools, most morays hide in crevices in the reefs and are typical ambush predators, waiting until their prey is close enough for capture.

The moray species most familiar to the general public tend to be circum-tropical, frequenting tropical and subtropical coral reefs to depths of 150 m, where they spend most of their time concealed inside crevices and alcoves. However the Global Biodiversity Information Facility Network has compiled a map of Muraenidae distribution that indicates observation of moray individuals in pretty chilly waters. I was myself surprised to see morays in the same lattitudes as Greenland and Antarctica.

In the December 2006 issue of PLoS Biology, a team of biologists announced the discovery of interspecies cooperative hunting involving morays. The biologists, who were engaged in a study of Red Sea cleaner fish (fish that enter the mouths of other fish to rid them of parasites), discovered that a species of reef-associated grouper, the roving coral grouper (Plectropomus pessuliferus), often recruited morays to aid them while hunting for food. This is the first discovery of cooperation between fish in general.

Morays have received a bad rap as being vicious or ill-tempered. In fact, morays are reclusive and so called "attacks" on humans are often self-defense responses to being disturbed or pestered, or accidental bites that result from wild individuals that have been habituated to human presence (mistakenly labeled "tame morays") through the practice of fish feeding. When bites do occur, morays can inflict a nasty wound. Though not poisonous, their backward-pointing teeth are often covered with bacteria which may infect the wound.

That's A Moray Monday: The De gustibus non est disputandum Edition

When you spend more than a year writing a recurring online blog feature dedicated to moray eels, you've got to expect eventually finding other moray fans. In my case, I've been lucky to have readers who send me photos of moray eels they've seen while traveling. But perhaps not the kind of photos you might initially expect.

For instance, here are a few images of moray eels spotted by one reader on a trip to Cebu, Philippines:



Then there's this shot from Manila, Philippines:


Another reader sent this image from Senegal:


And finally this image sent in by a visitor to Portugal:


That's right, one man's Moray Monday is another man's Monday moray dinner.

In many places where moray's occur, moray flesh is not consumed due to the potential hazard of ciguatera poisoning. Ciguatoxin is commonly found concentrated in the muscle tissue of predator species near the top of the food chain in tropical waters, such as barracudas, snapper, moray eels, parrotfishes, groupers, triggerfishes and amberjacks. Symptoms of ciguatera poisoning involve gastrointestinal symptoms including nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea usually followed by neurological symptoms such as headaches, muscle aches, tingling extremities, numbness, disorientation, and hallucinations. Severe cases of ciguatera can also result in cold allodynia, which is a burning sensation on contact with cold (commonly incorrectly referred to as reversal of hot/cold temperature sensation).

As you might expect, run-ins with ciguatera poisoning are generally avoided by limiting or eliminating certain high trophic level tropical fish from your diet. Easier said than done in tropical destinations where protein is already scarce. Fortunately, local communities have learned through experience the seasons of the year when ciguatera threats are more likely for certain species of fish.

But all the images of morays in fish markets around the world got me wondering: When and how did moray eels first appear on the menu? Was it an utter act of desperation, grinding hunger, or a dare that resulted in that first moray meal? How far back does the recorded history of moray eel cuisine stretch? Surprisingly, quite far.

I've been recently enjoying a fascinating book, Around the Roman Table: Food and Feasting in Ancient Rome, by Patrick Faas and translated by Shaun Whiteside. If you're a foodie with an interest in history, this is a must read. It's part sweeping historical narrative, mixed liberally with ancient Roman recipes. Though I suspect you may have some difficulty shopping for some of the ingredients (anyone know if Trader Joe's sells unfiltered vinegar from the vineyards of Gaul?)

Despite the somewhat challenging shopping list, Around the Roman Table provides a literary freak show of some extreme eating throughout the Roman Empire. And apparently, moray eels were good eats.

In his Naturalis Historia written circa AD 77, Roman author and naturalist Pliny the Elder recorded some of the first culinary experiments with moray eels,

"The first to develop a special pond for the moray was Gaius Hirrius, who supplied six thousand morays for Caesar's banquets.

This was the beginning of our love for this unique fish. In Baculo, the orator Hortensius had a pond containing a moray which he loved to much that he is said to have wept when the animal passed away. On the same farm, Antonia, the wife of Drusus, decorated her favorite moray with ear-rings. The creature was so famous that people flocked to Baculo just to see it."

Pliny also documents that Vitellius, a Roman Emperor who reigned from 2 January 69 to 22 December of the same year, once ate a dish of parrot livers, peacock brains, flamingo tongues and the spleens of moray eels. It seems this sort of exotica was more the luxury of patrician classes (think of it as Roman caviar, though I'm sure they quaffed buckets of caviar too.) But typical Roman citizen meals were a bit more rustic.

In Ilaria Gozzini Giacosa's A Taste of Ancient Rome, the author provides examples of more vulgar fare:

Moray Eel with Vinegar Sauce
2 lbs moray eel, cleaned and sliced
1 tsp honey
2 Tbs. vinegar
1 Tbs. wine
2 Tbs. garum
1 Tbs. olive oil
2 Tbs. pepper and mixed aromatic herbs
1 tsp. wheat flour

The eel may be fried, but as it is a rather oily fish you may prefer to roast it in a hot oven. Mix remaining ingredients and serve with eel.

Garum, a very popular pungent Roman fish sauce used as a condiment, may have also benefited from moray in some preparations. The Romans fermented a fatty fish (typically anchovies though moray is mentioned in some sources) in brine and added other flavorings to make the garum. Before you turn your nose up in disgust, what exactly do you think is in that bottle of Worcestershire sauce you shake into a Bloody Mary or on a rare steak? Roman fish sauce is not as odd as it sounds.

Perhaps you're looking for a more delicate and complex sauce than garum to serve over freshly roasted moray? Then check out Empire of Pleasures: Luxury and Indulgence in the Roman World by Andrew Dalby. Dalby has uncovered "the perfect sauce for moray eel" as first documented in Satires II by Horace c. 30 BC,

his mixtum ius est: oleo, quod prima Venafri
pressit cella; garo de sucis piscis Hiberi;
vino quinquenni, verum citra mare nato,
dum coquitur (cocto Chium sic convenit, ut non
hoc magis ullum aliud); pipere albo, non sine aceto,
quod Methymnaeam vitio mutaverit uvam.
erucas viridis, inulas ego primus amaras
monstravi incoquere. inlutos Curtillus echinos,
ut melius muria quod testa marina remittat.

Translated by Dalby as,

This is my sauce for moray: Venafran oil of the first pressing; Spanish fish sauce; five year old Italian wine to be added during the cooking (if adding after, Chian will do better than any other), white pepper, and vinegar from the vineyards of Methymna. My own innovation is to add green rocket and bitter elecampane. Curtillus uses sea-urchins, not cleaned, because their own liquor is better than any brine.

Lest you think moray meals waned with the fall of the Roman Empire, think again.

Some sources indicate that King Henry I of England (1068-1135) allegedly died in Normandy after eating moray eel. Other sources say that he succumbed after eating "a surfeit of lampreys" (of which he was excessively fond). I'm willing to believe both taxa are plausible last meals given their range.

According to Mellita Adamson in Food in Medieval Times, Moray eels appear once again in the 15th century writings of Catalan-cuisine trained cook Mestre Robert, also known as Rupert de Nola. Little is known about this character, but he is famous for his "Libre del Coche," a Mediterranean cookbook combining Catalan, Italian, French, and Arab influences.

Inside, we find recipes (translated by Lady Brighid ni Chiarain) that would make Ferran Adrià look like a dilettante:

MORENA EN PAN (Moray eel in crust)
If the moray eel should be alive, take care that it does not bite you because its bite is poisonous; and it being alive, flog it well, because the fish bones all descend to the tail; and then scald it just like the conger eel, neither more nor less; and then wash it well with cold water and cut it into pieces; and take your spices: ginger, a little galingale, and salt, and all this should be well-ground and cast upon the cut-up moray; and make the empanadas; and cast a little oil inside and cover them, and let them go to cook in the oven. And being cooked, cast on a little orange juice.

MORENA EN CAZUELA (Moray eel in casserole)
Prepare the moray eel just like the conger eel; and cut it into pieces; and cut off the tail, because the fish bones always descend to the tail; and then take the spices which are necessary, and all the good herbs finely shredded or cut, and salt, and almonds, and raisins, and pine nuts; and let all this go into the casserole with a little oil; and the almonds should be scalded; and let it go to the oven to cook.

MORENA EN PARRILLAS (Moray eel on the grill)
Scald the moray eel just like the conger eel; and if it is alive, flog it vigorously because all the fish bones will descend to the tail; and if you want to fool your companion, give him the tail to eat; and then remove the head, and cut it into pieces as large as a palm; and then grease the grill with oil. And set the moray to roast; and frequently grease it well with oil. And there are also many who grease it with garlic and oil. But each one cooks it according to his appetite. Because there are many lords who do not eat garlic and oil, and others who do eat it. And returning to the topic of making the thin sauce which is customarily made for roasted foods, which is orange juice, and ginger, and oil, and a little water. And put all this into a little pot with salt, and all the good herbs cut small; and when they want to eat, put the food on the plate; and cast your sauce on top.

They just don't write cookbooks like this anymore!

Which brings us back to the present and full circle as morays appear in local fish markets worldwide. Much favored and sought after through the ages by princes and peasants alike. Call me moray obsessive. Call me an admirer of odd culinary history. Just don't call me late for dinner!

Pass the garum!

That's A Moray Monday: The "You Ask-I Deliver" Edition

Never let it be said I won't willingly go to great lengths to keep my readers happy. Case in point, a few weeks ago, Christopher Taylor--Kiwi, "working taxonomist," aficionado of well-groomed facial hair, and author of the blog Catalog of Organisms--commented on one of my That's a Moray Monday posts where I put forward that I don’t like to feature images of preserved (or pickled) specimens (such as the one pictured at the top of this post) from museum collections. To which Christopher responded:

Despite your prejudices, can I put in a request for a post about pickled specimens in jars of formalin? It might be interesting to see a "we don't know as much about morays as we think we do" post. Even as a working taxonomist, it always amazes me to consider just how many organisms - from trees to toads to ticks to tapeworms - we know from specimens floating in jars and absolutely f***-all else.

Ask and you shall receive, Christopher. Mind you, it took a wee bit of time to pose your question and a few others to an arbitrary (though distinguished) cadre of museum colleagues:

• Karsten Hartel, Curatorial Associate and Manager of Ichthyology Collections for the Museum of Comparative Zoology, Harvard University;
• David Smith, eel specialist with the Division of Fishes, Smithsonian Institution; and,
• Dave Catania, Senior Collection Manager, Ichthyology, at the California Academy of Sciences.

My sincere appreciation at the start to all of these busy scientists for taking time from their daily workload to answer my questions. Mr. Catania was happy to provide some feedback, but referred me to the Academy's legendary John McCosker, as he has published extensively on the systematics of Muraenids. Unfortunately, Dr. McCosker was out of town for July and I wanted to get a post in before too long. What I'm most happy to report is that every one of the museum scientists I contacted replied to my rather unusual query within just a few days. In addition to providing great info, they affirmed warm feelings of science camaraderie while also validating that others share my general geekery about all things moray.

Holy Holotype, Batman
I asked Karsten Hartel if the MCZ has one of the more extensive collections of moray holotype specimens (the actual specimen of an organism that's used when the species was formally described.) He explained that in total, the MCZ's moray collection is not that large (material applied to about 35 names). He noted however that the Smithsonian, by comparison, has 102 type specimens. This was confirmed by the Smithsonian's David Smith who said that the august DC institution probably does indeed have the largest collection of morays in the world (in fact, the Smithsonian has the largest collection of preserved fishes in the world). Cal. Academy's Dave Catania reported back that the Academy has 15 Muraenid holotypes. He suspects that the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia has somewhat more moray holotype specimens.

A Question of Numbers
As far as how many species have been identified, things get a little fuzzy. Karsten noted that if you go to the California Academy of Sciences database (it lists all of the known names ever applied to fishes) and search on Muraenidae (the fish family that includes morays) you will get 533 species names that have been applied to the family at one time or another. However, he explains that we now know that there are almost 200 valid species (Nelson's Fishes of the World says 185) and that is largely because ichthyologists were able to examine the actual specimens used to describe each taxon.

The Smithsonian's eel specialist, David Smith, says no one is really sure precisely how many species of morays there are worldwide. The figure of 200, he said, is almost certainly too low, "We are continually finding new species of morays," reports Smith. "Some species are very widely distributed, while others inhabit only small, restricted areas. One species is known only from Walters Shoals, a submerged reef south of Madagascar. Another is restricted to the Red Sea, and another to the Indian Ocean off South Africa. With the advent of DNA testing, we are sure to find even more species."

Today's Special: Pickled Moray
Getting right to Christopher's primary question of what we know about morays solely from pickled museum specimens, the answer appears to be "quite a lot." The Smithsonian's David Smith responded, "Actually, much of what we know about morays comes from these preserved collections. We can gain information on where each species lives geographically, the ecological habitat, and the variation in characters both within an area and between one place and another." Smith goes on to explain that these preserved specimens also provide information on comparative anatomy, and this in turn can enable us to determine evolutionary relationships.

So with all these one-of-a-kind moray specimens filling up shelf space in museum collections, they must get picked apart and probed a lot, right? "Nope," says MCZ's Karsten Hartel. "Primary type specimens are almost never dissected in order to keep them intact as possible for future generation of scientists," he said. "The non-type parts of the MCZ collections offer a wider opportunity to study all aspects of eel biology from molecular to biodiversity. But by using x-rays or scans, some internal anatomy can be obtained. This, Karsten notes, is very important in eels where the number of vertebrae is incredibly important to understand what is a species and what is not.

Classify Now? Classify Later?
I was curious (as a non working taxonomist) as to the process from collection of specimens in the field to ultimate identification and storage in museum collections. Is this a speedy process or, like a lot of scientific enterprises, does lack of capacity mean that some collected and potentially novel species can sit for quite some time before undergoing classification. In other words, is it possible that our museum collections have new moray species just waiting to be taxonomically defined. David Smith with the Smithsonian was first to weigh-in, "I not only suspect, but I know for a certainty, that many new species of moray eels currently reside in museum collections, some right here at the Smithsonian. With more DNA sampling, those numbers are bound to increase," he said. Harvard's Collection Manager, Hartel, agreed, "I'm sure there are new species out there but I'm not an eel specialist."

I asked if one could quantify an "average time" (if there is indeed such a thing) it might take to ascribe taxonomic description and identity to a collected moray specimen. Do most specimens that are collected by museums sit in bottles on shelves for quite some time before a researcher gets around to writing a monograph or some such taxonomic description? Karsten responded that it's, "Almost impossible to average. He described that the turnaround time depends on current knowledge of the group. "If its a poorly known group that has not been looked at in years, it might require a full review of the group by borrowing material from around the world, visiting museums around the world," he explained. "This can literally take years!"

"On the other hand," he coninued, "if a new very distinctive species is found, then things could move very fast especially with new electronic journals like Zootaxa as was witnessed for the moray species Gymnothorax baranesi. That specimen sat on the shelf since 2002, but once the study was finished and the paper accepted in Nov. 2007 it was published by January 2008."

Smithsonian's David Smith concurred, "There really is no average time between the discovery of a new species and its published description. It depends on the situation." Smith explains, "A scientist may find the new species in the field and describe it shortly after returning to his (her) home base, if he is working on that particular group. Or it may be collected as part of an expedition and sit on a shelf until someone comes along and finds it, recognizes it, and publishes on it. It also depends on how much time a scientist has, how many other tasks compete for his time, etc. It is probably more common for a specimen to sit on a shelf for a while than to be published immediately. There are a lot more specimens in museums than there are scientists to study them. Some groups have no one studying them."

So the message here is clear: We need more moray taxonomists! Hear that, Christopher? For the good of the scientific enterprise, you need to start considering a way to disseminate those taxonomically inclined genes of yours. Take one for the team and get those genes in circulation! Either that or we all need to step up the message that taxonomy and classification is an exciting and living branch of the natural sciences and NOT the dry "stamp collecting" for which it often gets the unfair rap.

The Science Behind The Specimens
A final query I put to my museum contacts was to describe some of the current or recent scientific research in which museum moray specimens have proven vital. Karsten Hartel was first to respond that, "During my tenure, MCZ material (and other museums) has been very important for scientists who have studied eels. One example is the two volume (adults and leptocephali) work on the eels of the western North Atlantic or the Fishes of the Atlantic Ocean regional series." He also provided a link to the volume that describes species from the Western Central Pacific.

Both Karsten and Cal Academy's Dave Catania both pointed out that museum specimens are proving crucial in compiling online, searchable databases for fish species. Karsten mentioned that, "information on the holdings of major museums are being assemble into searchable databases (see the Global Biodiversity Information Facility) which is becoming more and more important for understanding diversity, especially in difficult to identify species where access to museum specimens is a necessity." Catania mentioned that FishBase is another searchable site that is assisting scientists in better understanding fish diversity and biogeography.

Dave Smith with the Smithsonian reminds us that while we have compiled new understandings of morays, a lot of scientific work remains to be done. To this point, he adds, "Very little is known about the anatomy and the biology of morays. Only a couple of species have ever had their osteology (structure of the bones and skeleton) described, and we know very little about their ecology, behavior, and reproduction, except in the most general sense. So, there is much more to learn about morays."

So there you have it, Christopher. Seems we have mapped just the tip of the iceberg in so far as understanding moray species. It's exciting to think that there’s still plenty of work and understanding yet to accomplish. Which to me at least is incredibly encouraging to think that future generations of marine biologists, taxonomists, and museum curatorial personnel can take-up the challenge.

That's A Moray Monday

Back in San Francisco and time for a regularly scheduled That's A Moray Monday. And here's both a spectacular fish and a vocabulary lesson.

Fimbriated Moray
Gymnothorax fimbriatus
Okay, without looking for your dictionary, what does fimbriated mean? Well, my online dictionary defines fimbriated as having a very narrow border, having a fringed border, or a fringe-like part or structure. And I'm guessing that the fimbriated in this morays name refers to it's tall, fringed dorsal fin running the length of the body. Though I've gotta tell you, I'm not seeing a fringe on any of the images I've found (unless it's referring to the thin white edge to the dorsal fin?). Whatever it refers to, the name would probably be as slippery as the eel itself if it turned up in a spelling bee.

The Fimbriated Moray (also called the Dark-spotted Moray and Spot-face Moray) occurs in coral reef and inshore waters of the tropical Indo-west Pacific, from Madagascar to the Society Islands (French Polynesia), north to southern Japan, south to Queensland, Australia, and throughout Micronesia. The eels habitat is typically lagoons, reef flats and seaward reefs. It prefers protected inshore waters among dead corals, and is quite common in harbors and small caves.

The Fimbriated Moray is grey to light brown in color with rows of well separated dark brown blotches. The head is greenish-yellow dorsally. There is a large white spot at the rear of the lower jaw. A row of large canine teeth runs along the roof of the mouth.
The species grows to about 80 cm (2.6 ft) in length. It is most active at night and feeds primarily on fish and crustaceans.

That's a Moray Monday

Since last week's weak (and apparently too faggy) installment of Moray Monday, I've decided to pull out the stops with one of my favorite moray species. So lest I start lisping and breaking out into Broadway tunes, let's get on with the show.

Dragon Moray Eel
Enchelycore pardalis
formerly Muraena pardalis

This is without a doubt the holy grail for true moray fans. It's combination of spectacular coloration, fleshy ornamentation of the head, and overall formidable appearance make it a particularly coveted sighting among divers. Unfortunately, the Dragon moray is also a highly prized species for the salt water aquarium trade. The unfortunate aspect is that the species tends to be somewhat high maintenance and delicate in captivity, resulting in a relatively high mortality rate. However, this only increases fishing demand for a species whose fisheries capacity is not well characterized.

The name Enchelycore is derived from the Greek word enchelys (eel), and kore (pupil). Pupil eel? I think I prefer Dragon. The Dragon moray grows to lengths of approximately 92 cm. (36 inches). This tropical moray can be found in coral and rocky reef systems in the Indo-Pacific (from Hawaii to southern Japan, and southward to central Polynesia).

This eel used to be grouped in the Mureana genus, but was changed in about 1988 to the Enchelycore genus. Other names that appear in books for this eel include Muraena lampra, M. kailuae, and M. kauila, all of which are now obsolete. I suppose that's the great dread for working systematists out there. You go through all the work to describe a new species, get to name it, publish a monograph, then have your baby snatched away. Ah, the march of science.

Perhaps part of the naming confusion stems from the fact that the Dragon moray passes through different color and pattern changes as it grows into maturity. Its most striking features include its bright yellow, orange-red, or black and white colorations, unusual patterns on the body, sharp pointed head and distinctive "horns" above the eyes. It is without a doubt an eel that cannot be mistaken for any other.

Preferred food for this moray includes small fish, crabs, shrimps, and squids. The Dragon Eel is a very aggressive species with a mouth full of large, sharp, needle-like teeth, and a bottom jaw that cannot close because it is curved. Due to this eel's aggressive and predatory nature it is often difficult to keep in tropical aquaria with other marine life, including other eels. It is also something of an escape artist, able to force-open aquarium covers or follow filtration tubes to a short lived freedom. Can you say Finding Nemo? Although aggressive in aquarium settings, in the wild the Dragon moray is rather shy and reclusive.

That's A Moray Monday: It's Not Easy Being Green

Another Monday, another moray. I've been spending a lot of time on some of the more exotic morays over the past few weeks, but I think it's time to get vulgar. And I'm preferring to use the more neutral definition of vulgar here to mean "common". And what's more common than the Green moray?

Green Moray
Gymnothorax funebris
Also known as the black moray, green conger, green congo, green eel, and olive-green moray eel, the Green moray is one of the most common and one of the largest of the moray eels, averaging 1.8 m in length, but can grow up to 2.5 m (8.2 ft.) long and weigh up to 29 kg. (about 64 pounds!).

Why so much variation in color for this moray species? In part, it's normal genetic variation in the skin pigmentation. The Green moray in fact has blueish skin. The overall dark green to brown appearance is the result of a yellowish mucus produced by the eel that covers its blueish skin. The mucus provides protection from parasites and infectious bacteria, but the resultant overall greenish coloration provides cryptic coloration and assists the eel in hiding in the reef from unsuspecting prey. Most of the bright green colors in the images you see here are the result of flash photography. But check out the eels appearance in the image below without a flash.


Camouflage coloration often extend into the mouth of the green moray, which continually opens and closes slowly to move water over the gills for respiration. The large mouth features strong, pointed sharp teeth. The body is muscular with a long dorsal fin that extends down the length of the body starting from the head and ending in a short tail fin.

Green morays have an enormous range as well as tolerance to wide environmental parameters. The Green moray has been observed in the Western Atlantic: New Jersey (USA), Bermuda and northern Gulf of Mexico to Brazil. A specimen was recorded once from Nova Scotia, Canada. It can be found in the eastern Atlantic and eastern Pacific oceans as well.

Like most morays, the Green is a benthic and solitary species found along rocky shorelines, reefs, and in mangrove habitats. Depth ranges from 1-30 m. The Green moray is a nocturnal predator with poor eyesight that uses its sense of smell to hunt for fish, squid, octopuses, crabs and occasionally even other eels. I found out first hand how poorly sighted Green morays can be during a night snorkel in Roatan, Honduras. I was snorkeling around the turtle grass beds just offshore behind the reef when I felt something against my belly, under my loose-fitting t-shirt. I focused my light beneath me to see a meter-long Green moray exiting my shirt. Charming.

These eels can be territorial and have been known to occupy a specific reef for many years. Due to its large size, the bites of this moray can be particularly dangerous, however unless provoked, this eel is not a threat to humans. This somewhat docile nature has resulted in some Green morays becoming habituated to human activity. When this is coupled with feeding from divers, it can make for dangerously aggressive fish. While close diver encounters with big Green morays are no doubt thrilling (and make for big tips to dive guides), accidental bites from such "tame" individuals have been all too common. Unfortunately, photo evidence from Google image search shows that diver awareness-building is still needed.



Within their native range they are eaten by some indigenous peoples but the risk of contracting ciguatera poisoning from this species is considered great.

That's A Moray Monday: The Baby Pictures Edition

Since last Monday was abuzz with Pharyngula-driven traffic on the whole Expelled brouhaha, I didn't get around to posting a Moray Monday. So I thought I'd make up for it with today's special edition focused on the early life stages of moray eels. Turns out morays aren't just cool as adults, they're pretty awesome as babies too.

True-eels (Anguilliformes) along with the closely allied tarpon (Megalopidae), bonefish (Albulidae), and ladyfish (Elopidae) produce larvae known as leptocephali. These transparent, ribbon-like larvae drift as part of the planktonic community as they develop. Interestingly, Muraenid (moray eel) leptocephali possess pectoral fins, a condition wholly different from that of the adults. It is during the transformation from leptocephalus to juvenile that the pectoral fins are resorbed.

Moray eels, like all true eels, are oviparous--or egg-laying. Although little is known regarding moray spawning, fecundity and early development of the leptocephali, one published source records numerous ripe eggs measuring 1mm in diameter from a 1.1 meter female. In contrast to this single record other sources indicate a much larger size for the eggs of other morays, on the order of 3-4mm in diameter. Interestingly, marine aquarists may have more direct experience with moray egg production than the research science community. I found posts on at least two online aquarist discussion boards about discovering egg masses in tanks housing Zebra morays. It's all anecdotal and no images were provided, but it's reasonable to assume this sort of thing does occur in captivity.

Leptocephalus of the Caribbean ocellated moray (Gymnothorax ocellatus)
(Fishes of the North Atlantic, 1989)
When the fertilized eggs of morays hatch, prolarvae emerge. Shortly thereafter the prolarvae transform into leptocephalus larvae, which grow to be between 5 and 10 cm in length. Leptocephali of the various species of moray in general are distinguishable by patterns of pigment, the number of trunk muscles (known as myomeres), and the position of the dorsal fin and the anus. The myomeres of a leptocephali can be clearly seen in the specimen in the image to the left (click image to enlarge).

The leptocephalus shares a number of morphological characteristics with its adult counterparts: both are long and laterally compressed and their dorsal, caudal and anal fins are continuous. Unlike adults, they have a "gelatinous" consistency and their tissues (with the exception of bone) are transparent. The leptocephalus larva will undergo its final metamorphosis in open water. Except with regard to size, the juvenile resembles the mature animal. Ocean currents disperse the animals after metamorphosis and, once they have reached a permanent habitat, they mature.

While not apparently practiced with moray larvae, the leptocephalii of the Japanese conger eel is eaten seasonally in the markets of Shizuoka, Okayama, Misaki, and Wakayama Prefectures. Known as “Noresore” (のれそれ), the baby conger eels are 5-6cm in length and resemble long transparent noodles (save for their eyes). At sushi counters, they are served with freshly grated ginger and chopped green onions. At some restaurants, they are served live to the table and eaten live after dipping in sweet fish sauce mixed with vinegar.

Who am I to critique? I eat hotdogs.

That's A Moray Monday: The Reading Is FUN-damental Edition

My inverte-phile buddy Eric Heupel over at The Other 95% sent me a heads-up on a perfect Moray Monday event over in his back yard in The Constitution State. Dr Tim Watson, a volunteer diver and underwater photographer at Mystic Aquarium & Institute for Exploration, has written a children's book that has my name written all over it.

His illustrated book, Howard's Search for a Home: An Underwater Adventure of a Moray Eel, is the sort of book I wish I had when I was a kid. I have yet to see the book myself, but according to the description, Watson's book "uses vibrant underwater pictures for the younger child's visual aesthetics, a simple humorous story line for young readers, and incorporates an educational aspect of each species encountered to promote ocean animal appreciation and learning. The book may also be a good avenue for children to open a dialog with adults around understanding retirement."

Understanding retirement? I do need to read this!

And perhaps best of all, a portion of the proceeds of book sales will be donated to the Mystic Aquarium's volunteer SCUBA program, research, and marine mammal stranding programs. Ah, the Mystic Aquarium! As an undergrad, my family would stop at Mystic Seaport when we drove through Connecticut on our way to Rhode Island. If memory serves, I'd complain nonstop until we all marched to the aquarium admissions. Good times!

If you're in the Mystic or New London area, Tim Watson will talk about moray eels and sign copies of his book on Saturday, June 27 at Michael's Dairy in New London. I suggest you try a scoop of Monster Mash--vanilla ice cream, caramel swirl, malted milk balls, Oreo cookies, and M&M's. Join Watson between noon and 2:00 p.m. to learn about the remarkable underwater life in the world of a moray eel.

Ice cream and moray eels. Does it get any better?

And as a final bonus, check out this interview that ScubaSave.com landed with author Tim Watson.

That's A Moray Monday: The Day Late, Endemic Hawaiian Edition

With the frequency of my posting a day late, I may need to change this series to That's a Moray Tuesday. But I'll fall back on a good excuse of having my hands full with field work and the sketchy access to internet hotspots in Kona. But enough excuses, it's time to celebrate Hawaii's amazing marine edemism with a moray you can find nowhere else but here. And maybe because it's not that common an eel, even here in Hawaii, the available images of live specimens in natural reef settings is limited.

Steindachner's Moray (also called the Brown-Speckled Eel)
Gymnothorax steindachneri

While endemic to Hawaii, the Steindachner's moray is only considered common in the Papahanamokuakea Marine National Monument (also known as the Northwestern Hawaiian islands). It can be found in crevices and rocky holes along shallow, fringing reef systems. The species exhibits a disruptive coloration consisting of a mostly cream-colored body with irregular brown markings (almost starbursts) and stripes running the length of the body. This coloration does not generally extend to the tips of the fins or along fin margins which typically remain white. The species can attain lengths up to approximately one meter (3 feet).

As an interesting aside, the Steindachner's moray (and many other fish species), owe their rather interesting names to Franz Steindachner, a reknowned 19th century Austrian zoologist. Steindachner was a prolific taxonomist and ichthyologist. In fact, in 1868 he was invited by Harvard's famous zoologist, glacial expert, and creationist Louis Agassiz to accept a position at the Museum of Comparative Zoology. But back to our eel.

Despite being an endemic species and therefore considered highly vulnerable to exploitation, the online resource FishBase indicates that the Steindachner's moray is a commercially valuable species for the aquarium trade. Let's hope that since the primary species densities are found in the isolated outer Northwest Hawaiian Islands, their populations can remain stable for quite some time.

That's A Moray Monday

Welcome to a new weekly addition to the blog. Each week, That's a Moray Monday will feature a different representative from the Muraenidae family of bony fish. Why morays? Why not? Moray eels are large cosmopolitan marine eels with approximately 200 species in 15 genera. They are found along tropical and subtropical coral reef systems worldwide. The loss of coral reefs isn't just a story of the decline of coral species. Loss of coral reef habitat also threatens spectacularly diverse species such as morays. I've selected these charismatic megafauna as poster children of the wonders of reef evolution and as a reminder of the complexity of life that depends upon healthy reefs.

Blue Ribbon Eel
Rhinomuraena quaesita

The Blue Ribbon Eel can be found throughout the Indo-Pacific: From East Africa to the Tuamoto Islands, north to southern Japan, south to New Caledonia and French Polynesia; including the Marianas and Marshalls.

It occurs along lagoon and seaward reefs. In the wild, the ribbon eel buries itself in sand or hides in rocks or reefs, dashing out to feed on small fishes. Juveniles and sub-adults are jet black with a yellow dorsal fin, while females are yellow with a black anal fin with white margins on the fins. The adult male can be black, fluorescent blue with yellow highlights, blue-green, or brilliant yellow. It's most noticeable features include three fleshy tentacles on the tip of its lower jaw, a single fleshy pointed projection at the tip of its snout, and tubular anterior nostrils ending in gaudy, fan-like expansions that undoubtedly assist in capturing chemical signals in the water.

This beautiful eel is the only species of moray to be a protandrous hermaphrodite, beginning life as males but able to change into females if the need arises. The ribbon eel also changes its color from blue to yellow when it becomes fully mature (& female). The ribbon eel grows to an overall length of approximately 100 cm (36 in).

That's A Moray Monday: The Do-As-I-Say-Not-As-I-Do Edition

Let's try a blind lead that seems very appropriate for Moray Monday.

What very vocal Hawaii dive operator who has gone on the record as being opposed to voluntary environmental marine recreation standards because (paraphrased),

We already have standards, are operating sustainably already, and have been taking care of the reef for a long time without any more rules!

has a very curious and contradictory review from a customer on an online travel advice site,

I'm not the pro diver, but my husband is having logged almost 120 dives. All the recommended dive companies were booked out, so we took what was available. Christmas Eve we set off for Lanai (another of Hawaii's islands). The diver's weren't as expert as those you'd find elsewhere and the equipment wasn't brand new; but we really wanted to dive the Cathedrals - an underwater lava/cavern formation which is lit up by sunlight.

The first dive was Sergeant Major. (Depth 61 feet/Bottom time 46 minutes). It was a bit of a calamity getting off the boat. There were a few who didn't seem to know how to dive, apparently they were just certified and didn't know how to deflate their BCs. Saw two white tipped reef sharks. The other group saw a moray eel. The photos were taken by the dive shop. This is the eel right before he bit into the hand of the dive instructor who later went to the hospital to get stitches. [Note: Above image illustrates results from a similar moray bite.] I guess he shouldn't have been playing with it.

While perhaps out of place to include on a moray post, the reviewer also posted this snap of divers harassing an octopus.

If this is taking care of Hawaiian reefs and demonstrating sustainability, I shudder to imagine what carelessness looks like.

That's A Moray Monday: The Late President's Day Edition

I've been so busy spending my day off by writing a NFWF grant proposal that I almost forgot it was Moray Monday. My bad. This week's moray gave me quite a challenge in finding decent images online. But I did manage to score the video of a captive specimen. Better than nothing, I guess.

Tessellate Moray
Gymnothorax favagineus



In Latin, the word "tessella" means "small square". A tessella is also a small cubical piece of clay, stone or glass used to make mosaics. A collection of tessella creates a pattern called a tessellation. Tessellations frequently appeared in the art of M. C. Escher. And one look at the coloration of this moray and you can understand the inspiration for the name. The Tessellate moray is grey to pale brown. It's brownish-black spots cover the head, body and fins of the species. The spots become relatively smaller as the fish grows. The species grows to 1.8 m in length, though unconfirmed reports of individuals up to 3 m long have been reported.

The Tessellate moray occurs in tropical marine waters of the Indo-West Pacific, in depths from 1 m to at least 50 m. In Australia it is known from north-western Western Australia, around the tropical north of the country and south to the central coast of New South Wales.

The Tessellate Moray has also been called the Coral eel, Giraffe eel, Honeycomb moray and Blackspotted moray.