Hammer corals have unique tentacles that are large, fleshy, and tubular; these terminate in a ‘T’-shaped, hammer-head or anchor. Beneath all these softly waving tentacles is an extraordinary skeleton structure, which helps define them as a large polyp stony coral.

They look alike at first glance, but Alveopora and flowerpot corals are not the same. The easiest way to tell them apart is to count the tentacles.

We now have the 2025 Norfolk Island reef health report, so I’m taking the opportunity to translate it into plain English here. Sadly, it’s more of the same story in Emily and Slaughter Bays – a reef that can cope with some stress, but is being asked to cope with too much, too often.

Halimeda is a calcareous green reef alga that forms new segments overnight, shifts from white to bright green by dawn, then pales again as calcification begins. A quick look at one of the reef’s smartest algae.

Reef space is finite, and nothing ‘shares’ it politely. This short photo essay follows one bubble-tip anemone on Norfolk Island’s lagoonal reef as it holds a crater surrounded by Montipora. The coral builds a rim; the anemone holds the centre. Six years apart, and the argument continues.

Norfolk Island’s reef in 2025 – a year in review. From NOAA bleaching alerts and the UN Ocean Conference ‘Warning Signs’ series to post-drought coral recovery and a wet winter revealed in long-term rainfall records, this post captures the wins, losses, and shifting baselines beneath the lagoon. Includes reef photos, highlights from Reef Relief, and standout stories from 2025 – from coral health and disease to boxfish biomimicry, sea urchins, nudibranchs, and heat-stress signals in anemones.

Herbicide use near Emily, Slaughter and Cemetery Bays raises questions about inshore reef health, heritage land management, and environmental protection on Norfolk Island.

I took these photographs this morning, Monday, 8 December 2025. A few warm days of settled weather, little cloud cover and low tides in the hottest part of the day have led to some early bleaching on our reef. Bleaching doesn’t always mean death for our corals, but it is concerning to have this so early in the summer season. Fingers crossed the conditions don’t last and the reef can recover.

This is a thank-you note. Five years after my first Out on a swim post – written with zero marine science quals and a head full of questions – I’m still in the water, now as a PhD candidate, because an extraordinary mix of locals, volunteers, researchers and public servants decided to share what they knew. This is the story of how nature – and a very patient community – became my teachers.

From Miami to Fiji, from Dubai to tiny village harbours on atolls, dredging near coral reefs has left a long trail of scars – even on ‘small’ projects. This follow-up to last week’s Kingston post walks through real examples of what happened elsewhere, and what that should make us think about before we dig up our own reef.

How much risk are we really taking with the planned dredging at Kingston Pier – and how much protection do our corals actually have on paper? This piece walks through what the federal approval does and doesn’t guarantee, explains why sediment and light matter so much to the reef, and asks the hard questions we need answered before we trade a deeper channel for a shallower future.

After the long dry spell, the lagoon was crystal clear and full of life. But with the return of the rains, something else has returned too – the brown, filamentous mats of Lyngbya. It’s not seaweed, it’s a cyanobacterium, and when it takes hold it smothers coral and rubble alike. The reef’s way of showing us that every drop of water, from tank to tide, is connected.

Ever seen a sea urchin that seems to glow blue from the shadows? That’s Diadema savignyi showing off its reef shimmer. Beautiful, a little spiky, and definitely not to be messed with.

If ever a sea slug was channeling the 1970s, it’s Halgerda willeyi. With its groovy orange lines and chocolate-brown bumps, it looks straight out of a vintage lounge suite – the kind with shag pile carpet and bold floral cushions. Proof that nature was nailing retro design long before humans caught on.

This Haddon’s anemone has been quietly living in the middle of Norfolk Island’s Emily Bay for years, bleaching and recovering with the seasons. Like corals, sea anemones host microscopic algae that provide most of their food. When stressed by heat or rainfall changes, they lose colour – and tell a story about seasonal changes to the weather.

September is Biodiversity Month – the perfect time to celebrate the astonishing variety of life on Norfolk Island’s reef. From new fish sightings to coral mosaics, every observation is a reminder of how much there is still to learn and protect.

Read more about why biodiversity matters, globally and right here in our lagoon.

I’ve tracked one plating Acropora coral from 2021 to 2025. In just a few weeks, white syndrome wiped it out. Nearly four years years on, it’s still smothered in algae and sea squirts, with only the tiniest hint of new growth. It’s a stark reminder: without tackling the root cause, we’re just watching the same sad story repeat itself.

Candy-cane stripes, long white feelers, and a reef spa on offer – the banded coral shrimp waves its antennae to advertise cleaning services to passing fish.

Meet Mr Lemonhead – our lagoon’s teeny yellow boxfish with a big design legacy. He inspired a Mercedes Benz concept car, proving how nature is full of surprises. And he shares the lagoon with other critters whose tricks have also shaped real-world inventions.

Some corals wear more than one colour for a reason. When Paragoniastrea australensis colonies fuse early in life, they form living mosaics. A beautiful reminder of coral cooperation on Norfolk Island’s reef.

Today, 28 July, is World Nature Conservation Day. After the dry 2024, Norfolk Island’s reef is looking healthier – a brief reprieve as less water - laden with nutrients - flowed into the lagoon. These photos show what’s possible. It’s a reminder that recovery is within reach – though renewed runoff could quickly undo the gains.

Over five and a half years of snorkelling Norfolk’s lagoon, we’ve documented 23 fish species not previously recorded in this area. Some are local ghosts, others climate migrants. These observations help us understand and protect what makes our reef so special.

Not all poop on a reef is bad poop. In fact some kinds of poop can be a reef’s most important invisible engine. Fish poop, bird poop – even poop that gets eaten again by other fish – all of it keeps the ecosystem ticking over in a way that’s nothing short of extraordinary.

Day 6 of this photo series from Norfolk Island coincides with the final day of the UN Ocean Conference in Nice. After a week of documenting decline, today’s post offers a different view – what reef recovery can look like when conditions improve. Drought in 2024 gave the reef a break, and the results were unmistakable: healthier corals, lower disease, and more fish. This is what’s possible if we act.

Day 5 of my blog series for the UN Ocean Conference: two long-lived coral colonies in Norfolk’s lagoon died quietly from disease. No drama – just slow collapse and overgrowth by algae. A reminder that not all reef losses are loud, but they are happening.

Day 4 of a week-long photo series from Norfolk Island, shared during the UN Ocean Conference in Nice. Today’s post spotlights a Hydnophora pilosa colony where white syndrome appeared suddenly and spread quickly, taking out around a quarter of the coral. In the months that followed, algae quietly filled the gap – a subtle but telling shift from coral to algae that’s happening across the reef.