malformalady:

An eye-catching two-toned lobster called Harley Quinn has become even more striking after moulting to reveal electric blue skin down one side of his body. The sea creature had surprised experts after it was caught in 2010 with a yellow, red and black body, buts its unusual appearance has intensified with each moult and it now has electric blue colouring. The lobster named Harley Quinn is pictured centre, with his two old coats, which have been carefully preserved.

malformalady:

An eye-catching two-toned lobster called Harley Quinn has become even more striking after moulting to reveal electric blue skin down one side of his body. The sea creature had surprised experts after it was caught in 2010 with a yellow, red and black body, buts its unusual appearance has intensified with each moult and it now has electric blue colouring. The lobster named Harley Quinn is pictured centre, with his two old coats, which have been carefully preserved.

onetwothreemany:

The sling-jawed wrasse. Evolution, you come up with some WEIRD shit.

But awesome. Thoroughly awesome.

Tip of the inspiration hat to The Brain Scoop, video by the Wainwright Lab out of UC Davis. 

palito77:

Frogfish are a variety of anglerfish that make up the family Antennariidae and can be found in tropical and subtropical waters.  They spend most of their time on the sea floor waiting for prey, which consists primarily of crustaceans and other fish. It begins to quietly stalk the prey by walking along the floor using its pectoral fins. When it is ready to strike, it rapidly opens its mouth to twelve times larger than normal, sucking up water and the fish.  These frogfish typically have many projections coming off of their body, which helps give the frogfish camouflage.  Image credit: Paul Rudder

palito77:

Frogfish are a variety of anglerfish that make up the family Antennariidae and can be found in tropical and subtropical waters.

They spend most of their time on the sea floor waiting for prey, which consists primarily of crustaceans and other fish. It begins to quietly stalk the prey by walking along the floor using its pectoral fins. When it is ready to strike, it rapidly opens its mouth to twelve times larger than normal, sucking up water and the fish.

These frogfish typically have many projections coming off of their body, which helps give the frogfish camouflage.

Image credit: Paul Rudder

stuckinabucket:

Queen conch!  (Currently Lobatus gigas, formerly Strombus gigas, occasionally Eustrombus gigas because why the fuck not?)You guys have probably seen these suckers’ shells before (up top), or at least reproductions.  The pink interior makes them quite attractive souvenirs, and the real deals are incredibly tough, so they tend to last a while.Queen conchs are marine gastropods of the shell-having variety, which means they usually look like this when you pick them up:Above: Horse conch showing you its horse conch operculum.Left to its own devices for a bit after that, and you might see this:The brown horn-looking bit on the left is the operculum, which serves to protect the squishier bits when it’s all tucked up in its shell and also to help it get around.  It sort of digs that sucker into the substrate and then humps its way over it, which makes it look like it’s sort of jumping along the seabed and is, frankly, a bit hilarious.Like most snails, queen conchs have a foot and eyestalks and a snouty little proboscis with a radula inside.  In the queen conch’s case, said radula is for grazing and not for like, spear-fishing.  The spiky-looking doohickeys coming off their eyestalks are sensory tentacles.Mature females, who weigh like five goddamned pounds, can produce about four million eggs per season, which they stick onto the substrate and then sort of abandon.  Since we’re not drowning in queen conchs, you can go ahead and assume the mortality rates for larvae and eggs are astronomical.  To be more specific, they’re so high they’re the despair of scientific repopulation efforts.  Larvae are planktonic, but juveniles are basically just tiny, less-interesting versions of the adults, only with thinner shells and a million more things that eat them.

Above: The eggs are that frilly sand-wad under her shell.
Zoom Info
stuckinabucket:

Queen conch!  (Currently Lobatus gigas, formerly Strombus gigas, occasionally Eustrombus gigas because why the fuck not?)You guys have probably seen these suckers’ shells before (up top), or at least reproductions.  The pink interior makes them quite attractive souvenirs, and the real deals are incredibly tough, so they tend to last a while.Queen conchs are marine gastropods of the shell-having variety, which means they usually look like this when you pick them up:Above: Horse conch showing you its horse conch operculum.Left to its own devices for a bit after that, and you might see this:The brown horn-looking bit on the left is the operculum, which serves to protect the squishier bits when it’s all tucked up in its shell and also to help it get around.  It sort of digs that sucker into the substrate and then humps its way over it, which makes it look like it’s sort of jumping along the seabed and is, frankly, a bit hilarious.Like most snails, queen conchs have a foot and eyestalks and a snouty little proboscis with a radula inside.  In the queen conch’s case, said radula is for grazing and not for like, spear-fishing.  The spiky-looking doohickeys coming off their eyestalks are sensory tentacles.Mature females, who weigh like five goddamned pounds, can produce about four million eggs per season, which they stick onto the substrate and then sort of abandon.  Since we’re not drowning in queen conchs, you can go ahead and assume the mortality rates for larvae and eggs are astronomical.  To be more specific, they’re so high they’re the despair of scientific repopulation efforts.  Larvae are planktonic, but juveniles are basically just tiny, less-interesting versions of the adults, only with thinner shells and a million more things that eat them.

Above: The eggs are that frilly sand-wad under her shell.
Zoom Info
stuckinabucket:

Queen conch!  (Currently Lobatus gigas, formerly Strombus gigas, occasionally Eustrombus gigas because why the fuck not?)You guys have probably seen these suckers’ shells before (up top), or at least reproductions.  The pink interior makes them quite attractive souvenirs, and the real deals are incredibly tough, so they tend to last a while.Queen conchs are marine gastropods of the shell-having variety, which means they usually look like this when you pick them up:Above: Horse conch showing you its horse conch operculum.Left to its own devices for a bit after that, and you might see this:The brown horn-looking bit on the left is the operculum, which serves to protect the squishier bits when it’s all tucked up in its shell and also to help it get around.  It sort of digs that sucker into the substrate and then humps its way over it, which makes it look like it’s sort of jumping along the seabed and is, frankly, a bit hilarious.Like most snails, queen conchs have a foot and eyestalks and a snouty little proboscis with a radula inside.  In the queen conch’s case, said radula is for grazing and not for like, spear-fishing.  The spiky-looking doohickeys coming off their eyestalks are sensory tentacles.Mature females, who weigh like five goddamned pounds, can produce about four million eggs per season, which they stick onto the substrate and then sort of abandon.  Since we’re not drowning in queen conchs, you can go ahead and assume the mortality rates for larvae and eggs are astronomical.  To be more specific, they’re so high they’re the despair of scientific repopulation efforts.  Larvae are planktonic, but juveniles are basically just tiny, less-interesting versions of the adults, only with thinner shells and a million more things that eat them.

Above: The eggs are that frilly sand-wad under her shell.
Zoom Info
stuckinabucket:

Queen conch!  (Currently Lobatus gigas, formerly Strombus gigas, occasionally Eustrombus gigas because why the fuck not?)You guys have probably seen these suckers’ shells before (up top), or at least reproductions.  The pink interior makes them quite attractive souvenirs, and the real deals are incredibly tough, so they tend to last a while.Queen conchs are marine gastropods of the shell-having variety, which means they usually look like this when you pick them up:Above: Horse conch showing you its horse conch operculum.Left to its own devices for a bit after that, and you might see this:The brown horn-looking bit on the left is the operculum, which serves to protect the squishier bits when it’s all tucked up in its shell and also to help it get around.  It sort of digs that sucker into the substrate and then humps its way over it, which makes it look like it’s sort of jumping along the seabed and is, frankly, a bit hilarious.Like most snails, queen conchs have a foot and eyestalks and a snouty little proboscis with a radula inside.  In the queen conch’s case, said radula is for grazing and not for like, spear-fishing.  The spiky-looking doohickeys coming off their eyestalks are sensory tentacles.Mature females, who weigh like five goddamned pounds, can produce about four million eggs per season, which they stick onto the substrate and then sort of abandon.  Since we’re not drowning in queen conchs, you can go ahead and assume the mortality rates for larvae and eggs are astronomical.  To be more specific, they’re so high they’re the despair of scientific repopulation efforts.  Larvae are planktonic, but juveniles are basically just tiny, less-interesting versions of the adults, only with thinner shells and a million more things that eat them.

Above: The eggs are that frilly sand-wad under her shell.
Zoom Info
stuckinabucket:

Queen conch!  (Currently Lobatus gigas, formerly Strombus gigas, occasionally Eustrombus gigas because why the fuck not?)You guys have probably seen these suckers’ shells before (up top), or at least reproductions.  The pink interior makes them quite attractive souvenirs, and the real deals are incredibly tough, so they tend to last a while.Queen conchs are marine gastropods of the shell-having variety, which means they usually look like this when you pick them up:Above: Horse conch showing you its horse conch operculum.Left to its own devices for a bit after that, and you might see this:The brown horn-looking bit on the left is the operculum, which serves to protect the squishier bits when it’s all tucked up in its shell and also to help it get around.  It sort of digs that sucker into the substrate and then humps its way over it, which makes it look like it’s sort of jumping along the seabed and is, frankly, a bit hilarious.Like most snails, queen conchs have a foot and eyestalks and a snouty little proboscis with a radula inside.  In the queen conch’s case, said radula is for grazing and not for like, spear-fishing.  The spiky-looking doohickeys coming off their eyestalks are sensory tentacles.Mature females, who weigh like five goddamned pounds, can produce about four million eggs per season, which they stick onto the substrate and then sort of abandon.  Since we’re not drowning in queen conchs, you can go ahead and assume the mortality rates for larvae and eggs are astronomical.  To be more specific, they’re so high they’re the despair of scientific repopulation efforts.  Larvae are planktonic, but juveniles are basically just tiny, less-interesting versions of the adults, only with thinner shells and a million more things that eat them.

Above: The eggs are that frilly sand-wad under her shell.
Zoom Info

stuckinabucket:

Queen conch!  (Currently Lobatus gigas, formerly Strombus gigas, occasionally Eustrombus gigas because why the fuck not?)

You guys have probably seen these suckers’ shells before (up top), or at least reproductions.  The pink interior makes them quite attractive souvenirs, and the real deals are incredibly tough, so they tend to last a while.

Queen conchs are marine gastropods of the shell-having variety, which means they usually look like this when you pick them up:



Above: Horse conch showing you its horse conch operculum.

Left to its own devices for a bit after that, and you might see this:



The brown horn-looking bit on the left is the operculum, which serves to protect the squishier bits when it’s all tucked up in its shell and also to help it get around.  It sort of digs that sucker into the substrate and then humps its way over it, which makes it look like it’s sort of jumping along the seabed and is, frankly, a bit hilarious.



Like most snails, queen conchs have a foot and eyestalks and a snouty little proboscis with a radula inside.  In the queen conch’s case, said radula is for grazing and not for like, spear-fishing.  The spiky-looking doohickeys coming off their eyestalks are sensory tentacles.

Mature females, who weigh like five goddamned pounds, can produce about four million eggs per season, which they stick onto the substrate and then sort of abandon.  Since we’re not drowning in queen conchs, you can go ahead and assume the mortality rates for larvae and eggs are astronomical.  To be more specific, they’re so high they’re the despair of scientific repopulation efforts.  Larvae are planktonic, but juveniles are basically just tiny, less-interesting versions of the adults, only with thinner shells and a million more things that eat them.

Above: The eggs are that frilly sand-wad under her shell.

naturalose:

Species in the Rhinochimaera family are known as long-nosed chimaeras. Their unusually long snouts (compared to other chimaeras) have sensory nerves that allow the fish to find food. Also, their first dorsal fin contains a mildly venomous spine that is used defensively. They are found in deep, temperate and tropical waters between 200 to 2,000 m in depth, and can grow to be up to 140 cm (4.5 ft) in length.
Chimaeras (also known as ghost sharks and ratfish) are an order of cartilaginous fish most closely related to sharks, but they have been evolutionarily isolated from them for over 400 million years.
(Info from WP and .gif from video by NOAA’s Okeanos Explorer—this is not an animation!)

naturalose:

Species in the Rhinochimaera family are known as long-nosed chimaeras. Their unusually long snouts (compared to other chimaeras) have sensory nerves that allow the fish to find food. Also, their first dorsal fin contains a mildly venomous spine that is used defensively. They are found in deep, temperate and tropical waters between 200 to 2,000 m in depth, and can grow to be up to 140 cm (4.5 ft) in length.

Chimaeras (also known as ghost sharks and ratfish) are an order of cartilaginous fish most closely related to sharks, but they have been evolutionarily isolated from them for over 400 million years.

(Info from WP and .gif from video by NOAA’s Okeanos Explorer—this is not an animation!)