Orange clown fish
Few fish grab our attention the way the clown fish does. Perhaps it wins our hearts with its fancy coloring, which may remind us of a circus clown. Or maybe we are struck by its surprising choice of home—among the stinging tentacles of a sea anemone. Not surprisingly, another name for the clown fish is anemonefish.
Like many Hollywood actors, clown fish are not
averse to photographs. Divers and snorkelers can usually expect clown fish to
“pose” for pictures, since they rarely stray far from home and are not
particularly shy.
But what makes clown fish extraordinary is
their seemingly risky lifestyle. Living among poisonous tentacles would seem to
be comparable to setting up home in a nest of serpents. Still, clown fish and
their anemone of choice are inseparable. What makes this strange partnership
possible and successful?
‘I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU’
Two-banded clown fish
Like most good
partnerships, clown fish and anemones give and take. The relationship is not
merely convenient for the clown fish; it is vital. Marine biologists have
confirmed that clown fish cannot live in the wild without a host anemone. They
are poor swimmers and would be at the mercy of hungry predators without the
anemone’s protection. However, by using the anemone as a home base and as a
safe shelter when threatened, the clown fish may reach ten years of age.
The anemone provides a safe nesting site as
well as a home. The clown fish deposit their eggs at the base of the host
anemone, where both parents keep careful watch over them. Later, the clown fish
family can be seen swimming around that same anemone.
What does the anemone get out of this relationship?
The clown fish serve as marine bodyguards, driving away butterfly fish that
like to feed on anemone tentacles. At least one species of anemone cannot live
without resident clown fish. When researchers removed the clown fish, within
just 24 hours, the anemones had disappeared completely. Apparently, butterfly
fish had consumed them.
It seems that clown fish even provide their
host with energy. The ammonium that clown fish excrete helps spur growth in the
host anemone. And as the clown fish swim among the tentacles, they help
circulate oxygen-rich water to the anemone.
GOING WHERE OTHERS FEAR TO SWIM
Pink skunk clown fish
In the case of clown fish, protection is
skin-deep. They have mucus on their skin that keeps them from being stung.
Thanks to this chemical coating, it seems the anemone considers the clown fish
one of its own. As one marine biologist put it, the clown fish becomes “a fish
in anemone’s clothing.”
Some studies suggest that when selecting a new
host, the clown fish has to go through a process of adaptation. It has been
observed that when the fish approaches an anemone for the first time, it
touches the anemone intermittently for a few hours. Apparently, this on-and-off
contact allows the clown fish to modify its protective coating to conform to
the new anemone’s particular poison. Possibly the clown fish gets stung a
little during this process. But after that, the two get along fine.
The collaboration of such different creatures
offers a fascinating lesson in teamwork. In so many human endeavors, people
from diverse cultures and backgrounds achieve remarkable results by pooling
their resources. Like the clown fish, we may take a little time to adapt to
working with others, but the results are well worth it.