The Princess

For as long as I can remember I have had a fascination with octopuses. I remember as a child pressing my face against the aquarium glass of the Giant Pacific Octopus exhibit. I wondered what this animal, that was as big as I was and that looked so strange, could be thinking; was he bored in such a confined space? I remember thinking, with my face smashed against the glass, I probably looked as weird to him as he looked to me. I thought it was so cool that these animals recognized different people they interacted with, and it seemed fun to me, as a child, that these creatures would play with toys. My interest continued as I got older. My boyfriend and dive buddy of two years, Sky, caught my attention during one of our first conversations when he explained his interest in octopuses. He talked about how octopus eyes are “built the right way,” they do not have a blind spot like humans, and with that he had me hooked.

Summer of 2013, I had the amazing opportunity to travel to Cozumel, a small Mexican island off the Yucatan Peninsula, for an 8-day diving adventure with Scuba Squad, my local dive club. Growing up my mom told me a story about doing a drift dive off Cozumel and having a little octopus climb up her arm as she went by, scramble over her tank, down her leg, and off the back of her fin.  An interaction like that sounded so fun to me; I hoped at some point I would have a dive like that. While in Cozumel, I did two night dives, and both were absolutely incredible. The first night dive was off of a boat. This was my first experience diving with octopuses and it was amazing. Each one had a different color and pattern, and they all seemed to have different personalities. Some would stay in my flashlight beam, as if showing off their colors as they changed to match the surroundings, and some would flee, moving smoothly and stealthily away from any more disturbances. I came up from that dive thrilled that I got to see my favorite creatures in the wild. 

The second dive was the last before we were heading home and it ended up being one of the best. It was on this dive that I saw squid and cuttlefish and became engulfed in a huge school of tiny blue fish. Toward the end of the dive, Sky and I came across a beautiful little white octopus. Sky had his light on her as he floated a ways above her and I moved off to the side and settled down onto the sand in the hopes that she would not be scared and would hang out for awhile. As I watched her she started moving toward me rather than away, which was a pleasant surprise. As she got closer I wondered if I should move, as I seemed to be in the way of where she was headed, but I thought that might scare her so I stayed. The closer she got the more excited I became. She was two feet from me, sitting there watching, her w-shaped eyes filled with curiosity. Remembering my mom’s story—I slowly put out my hand so that it was a foot or so from her. As I held it there, she reached out a lone tentacle and rested it on my hand, like a princess about to be escorted. I still get goose bumps thinking about it. She held it there for a few seconds and then moved off on around me, on her way to wherever she was headed. I have a hard time expressing what that experience has meant to me, but what I can say is I was honored and delighted that this sentient creature took the time to palpably say hello.