At least that’s my humble opinion. And when the eggheads at the Monterey Aquarium aren’t torturing Great Whites (see below), they’re out in the Bay trying to answer a profound question: Just who is Mr. Giant Squid? Seems that these oversized calamari like to congregate in Monterey Bay on occasion, far from the massive ocean depths they generally frequent, providing the opportunity for a little open-water research (note to Great White team at aquarium: that’s how research should be done…). The Monterey County Weekly has the whole story, including a great profile of Mr. Squid, otherwise known as Dr. William Gilly of Stanford University. Gilly has been trying to untangle the mysteries of the Giant Squid for decades. He’s still at it, but he’s got at least one thing to say:
“A lot of people want to make these things out to be mean and vicious and dangerous. To the best of my knowledge there’s no documentation that they’ve attacked anyone. Yes, there are divers who have let them grab on to them and drag them around. And yes, if there was a bad-ass squid who wanted to do damage, it could. When I snorkeled with them, one did come right up to me like it was going to eat a fish, but then it just touched me on the hand with its tentacle.
“Of course there are other guys I’ve worked with who want to play up the sensationalism aspects and wear chain mail in the water,” Gilly says. “Like Steinbeck wrote in The Log from the Sea of Cortez, ‘Everyone needs their sea monster in their personal ocean.’ Sensationalism sells video.”
Well put, Gilly, well put. But guess what? There is a whole other opinion out there:
Scott Cassell, a scuba diving videographer who has in fact designed special armor to protect himself while diving with Humboldt squid, takes issue with Gilly’s characterization.
“Gilly is trying to make them out to be cute little ETs,” says Cassell, an underwater filmmaker and cameraman who has done 205 dives with Humboldt squid, and just finished a stint as chief researcher for a Discovery Channel documentary called Killer Squid.
“They are, in my opinion, the most opportunistic animals in the world, feeding on any type of fish they come in contact with and occasionally mammals,” Cassell says. “I’ve interviewed many people who have been attacked by these squids. There are also stories of disappearances, always unexplained, around the Humboldt squid. Always fishermen. I’ve actually seen a Humboldt squid attack a thresher shark twice its size, bite through the very tough skin of the shark and pull out a fist-size chunk of flesh. The Humboldt squid don’t have to kill, they latch on and eat as much as they can without injury to themselves. Because of this they will test and attack most everything they encounter.”
“Diving with these squid is like diving in a barroom brawl,” Cassell says. “I’ve had my eardrum ruptured by getting dragged down from 45 feet to 75 feet; I’ve had my right arm dislocated by a squid grabbing my camera and yanking it; I’ve had 25 stitches from a particularly bad bite on my leg; and I’ve been smashed on the face more times than I can remember because they always seem to go for the camera when I’m looking through it.”
The most notorious Humboldt squid story involves Alex Kirstich, a National Geographic videographer working at night in the Sea of Cortez. Kirstich was shooting a school of five-foot Humboldt squid 30 feet below the surface when he was “mugged” by three squid and gang-dragged down to a depth of 70 feet.
“They took his camera, his necklace, his dive computer and gave him some nice bites around the back of his neck,” Cassell says….
In order to get “a pure example” of their predatory behavior, Cassell dives alone with these squid. Last September, at about 200 feet below the surface, Cassell was attacked by what Gilly would refer to as a “bad-ass” squid–an eight-foot, 300-pound monster Cassell dubbed “Scar.” It was an unforgettable experience he caught on film for an upcoming documentary titled Red Intelligence. He believes the squid are highly intelligent and at times very gentle: “His first attack gave me a giant bruise on my ribs, but once he realized I was not edible, we spent the next 12 minutes hovering before each other,” Cassell says. “He petted me and I reached out and rubbed his belly.”
Hmm, suddenly this is morphing into a bestiality story. Better wrap it up, before I get fined by the FCC. So, in conlusion: Giant squid are, umm, really, really interesting, and they might be dangerous. But, then again, maybe they aren’t (though who are you going to believe: the scientist, or the man who makes his living selling documentaries called “Killer Squid”?)…
“Howdy, pardner. I suppose you’re wondering whether I’m going to bite you or rub my ink all over you…”
The Earthist Chronicles 