Happy campers with hammocks and tents were still lounging beneath the Casuarinas at Changi Beach Park as we made our way to the retreating water early on Monday. This was my virgin foray to this shore on the eastern end of the island, and as it happened, getting there was a traumatic start-stop affair involving fumbling moves and mismatched expectations between two emotional parties. I told the taxi driver my destination and gave exact instructions to get there, but the man insisted ad nauseum ad infinitum all the way that I must have been wanting to head for the airport or the pier to Pulau Tekong. He stopped the car dead at the PIE just before the road forks off to the airport and demanded again that I make my mind. Repeating the plain notion that I am not taking a plane, going for a Tiger Airways flight or enlisting in the army got the Hokkien retort "I don't know what you are talking about". After wrestling control of the cab from him tightbrow efforts to restrain the man from veering off course, I reached the ferry terminal freshly flustered and unduckably late. The monkey dismisses this and other highway misencounters as fruits of fallen fowl but in truth, I suspect a cabby connivance against crepuscular creatures.
Seemingly unspectacular and astrewn with the waste of beachcombers, the sands of Changi are laid bare in green by the fallen tide. A shining sea of Ulva emerges amidst lush mounds of spoon seagrass (Halophila ovalis) with their oval leaves and the pinnate foliage of fern seagrass (Halophila spinulosa). Unlike the loose clumps of lettuce-like algae, seagrasses are flowering plants whose network of rhizomes (buried stems) and roots help to bind the substrate of the seafloor and form underwater meadows that feed animals from swimming crabs to sea cows (download this pdf for more about seagrass identification and ecology). Seagrass beds are often found adjacent to mangroves and coral reefs. Together, they form a multi-zone barrier that prevents nutrients from being lost to the open sea and thus help maintain the biological productivity of coastlines. And though their loss is of some concern to a few strange souls, it should not bother anyone else other than the countless few who make a living from marine harvests and those who enjoy plentiful seafood or regular bouts of diving.
Amidst the thick strand of leaves and fronds lurk slow swimmers that rely on stealth and scutes rather than speed and skill. A yellow seahorse (Hippocampus kuda) twirled its prehensile tail around secure structures. Like clownfish, they are another charismatic subject of attention and avarice, surprising some who are amazed that such 'exotic' species can be found in our supposedly barren waters, and sparking the covetous cravings of souls who prefer a free catch than confirmably captive-bred creatures. Living in low densities and indisposed to wandering far from their birthplace, seahorses are particularly vulnerable to habitat loss. Combined with a boundless appetite for their dried carcasses, these armoured steeds may one day become mere merhorses of myth, lost to man and never again to be herd. Less rare are their sinuous relations the pipefish, which blend in with the browns and greens of the swaying vegetation as they hunt for minute prey. Like their equine cousins, pipefish are posterboys for female liberation, with the male becoming 'pregnant' with a belly-brood of spawn while the female departs for new liaisons. I found three specimens: one winding its way through inches of weedy water; another stranded but still surviving on the damp sand; and the green lined one above who turned up in a tide pool where a filefish and butterfly were the initial draws.
The inch-long filefish is the same pool is another common find on our shores, albeit a challenge to spot thanks to its well-camouflaged body with frilly extensions. Like their more pugnacious cousins the triggerfish, filefish have prominent dorsal spines that can be used to lock themselves in crevices. More flighty is the kite butterflyfish (Parachaetodon ocellatus) which resembles the iconic copper-banded butterflyfish but lacks the pincer-like mouth. Both species are better off left in the wild as their dietary demands of live sessile animals such as coral polyps and anemones are beyond the capabilities of amateur aquarists.
Actually, not all filefish are pugnacious ... only the Titan Trigger is, and usually only the males at breeding season.
I think Parachaetodon ocellatus is more often confused with Chaetodon octofasciatus, the eight banded butterflyfish.
Cheers, Jeff
Posted by: Jeff | 03 July 2007 at 09:04 PM