In Alaska, starfish are a ubiquitous fixture of the ecosystem, easy to overlook when you’re accustomed to seeing them. There are several species that you’ll typically see around Homer, fastened to natural and manmade objects in the intertidal zones, or just chilling on the shore, as if they had just flung themselves down from the sky for a little break.
To fresh eyes, though, they’re magical. They’re symbols of whimsy, at our very feet. Our son took some of his first steps on the shores of Kachemak Bay, where the starfish regularly formed little constellations for him, blueprints of pure wonder. And the WAC team took so many starfish pics when we were all in Homer over the summer during our company gathering, images lovingly collected in our team photo album of the trip.
Seeing starfish through their camera lenses, and certainly through my son’s, is enough to rekindle my own sense of wonder over these strange, five-pointed creatures. So, over the weekend I found myself falling down a rabbit hole of marine biology via the Internet.
Newborn starfish start out as zooplankton, wandering freely for a little while on the surface of the water. In fact, the word “plankton” comes from the Greek word planktos, which means “wandering.” And interestingly, the Greek word for “planet” has a shared etymology, as the ancient astronomers noted the way that certain stars would wander around the night sky. These erratic “stars” were actually planets. Fascinating that these baby starfish are wandering too, star-like, above the rest of the sea creatures below.
Some of these baby starfish get consumed by other beings — zooplankton, for instance, are a big component of sockeye salmon’s diet and are the reason why sockeye are naturally so red. Those who survive the zooplankton phase of life mature and make their way to the seafloor, fully formed in shades of purple, orange, red, brown, yellow, green, and blue. My imagination is taking some liberties here, but I like to believe that the seas are filled with falling stars.
So, next time you’re walking along a seashore, whether you’re in Homer or on another far flung beach on this planet, I hope you take a moment to gaze down at even the most common stars at your feet to appreciate the beauty that connects us to one another, and to the great beyond where the sky meets the sea.
Live Wild,
Monica
Pictured above: One of the most common starfish, the Pisaster or ochre sea star. It’s big, with chunky arms, in shades of purple, orange, and brown.
