Witnessing a Natural Wonder: The Annual Australian Giant Cuttlefish Migration
The Wonder of the Giant Cuttlefish
I discovered the majesty of the Australian giant cuttlefish when I first began to explore Sydney’s shores whilst freediving five years ago. Before that, my only experience with them was collecting their bony remnants that wash up by the thousands on the rocky shores of the Kent coast in the UK. I’d never really considered where they came from, nor could I have imagined the mesmerising creatures that they once had been. Captivated by their inquisitive nature and their incredible ability to transform in colour and texture, they instantly became one of my favourite species to encounter. Having seen the odd one or two on dives in the fresh winter waters of Sydney, I was keen to find out more about these elusive creatures.
After doing a bit of research, I learnt about an unusual phenomenon that takes place during a small window in the winter months, where hundreds of thousands of giant cuttlefish swarm the rocky shallows of a remote South Australian coastal town in order to fight it out for a mate. Finding out that this was the only known gathering of cuttlefish in such high numbers, I was eager to witness it for myself.
A male cuttlefish shows of his rainbow colours in the shallows.
Embarking on the Long Journey to Whyalla
It was a spur of the moment trip which I decided to embark on despite being unable to convince any of my dive buddies to join. With a flight, a six hour drive and 12 degree water during the middle of winter, I wasn’t too shocked that I was having to go it alone. Undeterred, I set out, flying to Adeleiade and driving for what felt like forever, following emus through deserted farmland. I finally arrived in Whyalla - a small industrial town which makes up one corner of the so-called ‘Iron Triangle’. Driving straight to Point Lowly, I donned my 5mm (hoodless) wetsuit and eagerly wrangled my way down the steep, rocky coastline, armed with my camera and GoPro.
A male cuttlefish claims his partner.
As my toes touched the frigid water, I realised that I had made a terrible mistake. I’d severely underestimated how cold 12 degrees actually was and was seriously regretting my idiotic choice of not bringing socks or a hood. Submerging my head was torture. With severe brain freeze, I questioned whether I could really hold my breath in these conditions. After a few minutes trapped in frozen delirium, I registered the sight before me. Amongst the cotton wool algae clouds that covered the rocks, were hundreds, maybe even thousands, of brightly coloured cuttlefish of all sizes, flashing and pulsating fluorescent blue, purple and white - performing their mating dance. Having something to focus on other than my aching head and numb feet, I ventured further into the cuttle crowds to watch them interact, and boy, did they put on a show.
Two rival male cuttlefish put on a colourful display of dominance in a bid to secure a mate.
Mating Rituals of the Giant Cuttlefish
Cuttlefish have amazing camouflaging abilities, which allow them to change colour and texture to suit their surroundings. Often you will see them raising their arms to mimic the shape and movement of the surrounding seaweed in a bid to go unnoticed. Males are known to use this skill to their advantage by disguising themselves as females in order to trick rival males to not see them as a threat, enabling them to swoop in between a mating pair. Cuttlefish mate face to face, however some little guys had clearly not got the memo about this, and found themselves in positions that would definitely not have the desired effect.
A confused cuttlefish clings to an unamused mate.
The Tough Life of a Cuttlefish
With a lifespan of no more than two years, for many of these creatures, this migration will be their last hurrah. If successful in their mission to spawn, they will all most certainly die soon after. One thing I learnt in Whyalla is that it’s not all fun and games at the world's largest cuttlefish orgy. Not only do the males have to compete against one another for a chance to secure a mate, they also have to avoid the giant seabirds that are constantly swooping into the water, vying for a free meal. As the coastline that they inhabit in Whyalla is so shallow (between one and five metres), one wrong move from a battling cuttle and they are likely to be snapped up by one of the hypervigilant birds that patrol coastline, or even a seal that has found his way to the best buffet of his life. On numerous occasions I found myself engulfed in clouds of thick black ink - the sorry, last remnants of a cuttlefish battling to sow his seed.
An injured cuttlefish floats at the surface amidst a plume of black ink.
I stayed in Whyalla for three days, and during some dives, particularly during sunset, I found myself completely alone with no other divers around. Although it made the experience unique and memorable, I wouldn’t recommend this, seals are drawn to this spot for some easy cuttlefish pickings, and we all know who likes a little seal snack…so if you’re thinking of heading to see this epic natural wonder, take a buddy (and some booties) with you.
Another world awaits!
See you in the water soon…