I have known for a long time that Octopi are smart. I know it because I used to watch Jacques Cousteau as a kid, and in his special on the Octopus. He featured one solving the puzzle of a clear glass dome around its nest. Took the Octopus no time to figure it out.
Cousteau declared them smart and with great potential.If only they had longer life spans. They don’t. I believe he said the average life span for an Octopus is two years and change. Not exactly the life of a butterfly, but a whole lot less longevity than your average dog. Whether they are young or aged, to me they always look like sleepy but sage-like old men.
There are sixty different kinds of Octopi. Cousteau might have provided that information as well, but if he had, I have forgotten over time. Besides, for the most part they all look the same anyway. Unless you are another Octopus. Size varies and size matters. Dukeing it out with a three inch Octopus is a lot less challenging that being accosted by one that grows up to 36 feet long.
Octopi are gypsies. They scavenge odd bits of metal, glass,whatever off the ocean floor, and build a house. Two days later they go out hunting for food and usually never return to the house. I suppose the price of real estate for an octopus is no great consideration.
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No one will ever consider an octopus cuddly, although they have been known to display affection toward humans. Once again, Jacques Cousteau. They are hardly ferocious and they are rather shy. They would rather run than fight. As for being lovers and not fighters, I think their sex is short if not all that sweet. Octopus sex is not much for foreplay. What a waste of arms.
The reason I mention all this because an Octopus in the Santa Monica, California Aquarium recently disassembled the recyling valve on the water system and flooded the the aquarium with over two hundred gallons of seawater. Whether it was trying to escape or building a garden is a question for the ages. Or it merely wished to change the ambience in the aquarium and make it feel more like home.
For its efforts, the nameless Octopus was named “Flo.” Flo was lucky. Fourteen years ago an ocotupus in the San Pedro Aquarium pulled a plastic pipe loose. The octopus’ tank drained and the octopus died. No escape and no garden. I suppose that fate is better than ending ignominously in strips on a salad plate.
Flo apparently watched intently as the cleaning crew dried out the aquarium before the first group of school kids arrived. It may have been laughing, but no one seems to know what an octopus’ laugh sounds like. But either way, a consciousness is quite apparent in the octopus. For those who are skeptical about the consciousness of animals who are dubed the lower form of life, I have to wonder about their thinking. In fact, Ihave to wonder if they are even thinking at all.
