Eels: always creepy, now more so

by JGordon on Sep. 10th, 2007
in Diversity of Organisms

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A moray eel: Is any caption needed, really? Look at it. (photo by richard ling on flickr.com)When I was a very little boy, I lived on the island of Maui. I remember going to the ocean, on a couple of occasions, and floating around in a little inflatable raft by myself (I was tethered to a parent, but the boat was mine). The raft had a transparent bottom, so I could see through into the water. It was great! I could see fish, and sea turtles, and coral, and who knew what might be in the coral? Starfish? Sea anemones? Eels?

And with that thought – eels – my fun would be over. I pictured huge spotted eels hiding behind fans of coral, or watching from the dark spaces between rocks, just waiting for the perfect ambush, waiting to tear me and my little boat to shreds. Bleh.

I never actually saw any eels, of course, and I’ve since convinced myself that the fear was irrational. Eels are no creepier than any other animal, when you really think about it, right?

Wrong! Wrong wrong wrong! Wrong! Eels are way creepier than your average animal, and just because you live hundreds and hundreds of miles away from the ocean, there’s no reason you shouldn’t obsess over them in fear. A recent discovery has confirmed this, as far as I’m concerned.

Remember the aliens in “Aliens”? Obviously. Remember how they had big scary mouths… and then another little mouth inside? Well, it turns out that moray eels are just like this. Inside their normal jaws (which are covered in large, backward-pointing teeth) morays have another set of jaws called “pharyngeal jaws,” which are smaller and move independently to capture prey and pull it towards the eel’s stomach. No other animal can do this. Except aliens, of course.

Now, I’m sure moray eels are noble and graceful creatures, and a vital part of the ocean ecosystem, but check out wikipedia’s article on them. It’s like every thing about them was designed to be kind of creepy. Up to thirteen feet long? Okay. Cooperative hunting? Er, good. Bacteria covered teeth? Um, I try not to judge. Pharyngeal jaws? Oh, God.

I bet they spend all waking hours thinking about how to kill me. Cooperatively.

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