• Home
    • Norf'k Ilen's Language
    • Algae
    • Corals
    • Eels
    • Everything Else
    • Kingston, Norfolk Island
    • Nudibranchs, Sea Slugs and Flatworms
    • Octopuses
    • Out On A Swim Index
    • Reef Fish
    • Sharks
    • Sea Anemones
    • Sea Stars
    • Sea Urchins and Sea Cucumbers
    • Turtles
    • Underwater
    • Videos
  • Out on a swim - blog
  • About
  • Contact + Subscribe
Menu

Norfolk Island's Reef

Discover a fragile paradise – Norfolk Island's beaches, lagoons and coral reef
  • Home
  • Explore
    • Norf'k Ilen's Language
    • Algae
    • Corals
    • Eels
    • Everything Else
    • Kingston, Norfolk Island
    • Nudibranchs, Sea Slugs and Flatworms
    • Octopuses
    • Out On A Swim Index
    • Reef Fish
    • Sharks
    • Sea Anemones
    • Sea Stars
    • Sea Urchins and Sea Cucumbers
    • Turtles
    • Underwater
    • Videos
  • Out on a swim - blog
  • About
  • Contact + Subscribe

Out on A Swim

‘Out on a swim’ is a coral reef blog that tells the stories of the characters who live under the waves and what has caught my eye when ‘out on a swim’ in the lagoons of Norfolk Island. It is also a record of the difficulties Norfolk Island’s reef faces, like many others around the world, as a result of the poor water quality that has been allowed to flow onto it.

This page shows the most recent blog posts. For the complete catalogue, visit the ‘Out on a swim index’ page.

This blog is rated in the Top 20 Coral Reef Blogs in the world.

No results found

An aatuti guarding his eggs, Norfolk Island

From coral scar to aatuti farm

June 20, 2026

Watching how small wounds on the reef may become defended algae patches

How does an aatuti farm begin?

Banded scalyfins, Parma polylepis, are known locally on Norfolk Island as aatuti, and by some swimmers, rather hilariously, as the ‘bastard bitey fish’!

If you swim here often, you know them. They are bold, territorial little fish with no hesitation about telling you when you are too close. They defend patches of algae, chase other fish away, and crop their patch like a tiny underwater paddock.

They are algae farmers.

But I have been wondering about something more basic. How does that ‘farm’ begin?

Established aatuti farms are easy to recognise. They usually look like dark or pale algal patches on coral or reef surface, often with a grumpy aatuti nearby. But what came before that? Was there always a patch of algae there? Did the fish make it? Did it begin with injury? Or did the fish take over after the coral surface had already started to change?

Over the past year, I have been following several patches from what seems like tiny scrapes to fully fledged farms, which may show part of that story.

First, the bit I can’t pin down

How those first marks appeared is the part I cannot pin down.

In the examples below, the first photo in each sequence shows a cluster of small white marks on living coral. They look like fresh tissue-loss scars. But I cannot say what made them. They may have been fish bites. They may have been abrasions. They may have been localised disease, or some other kind of tissue damage. Still photos cannot identify the culprit.

At first, I wondered if parrotfish were involved, mainly because much of our parrotfish population hangs around this area and another spot about 40 metres away. That was only a possibility. Parrotfish graze hard reef surfaces and can leave pale bite marks, but the published evidence makes me careful with that idea. In one study that followed more than 2,000 parrotfish bite scars, most scars on living coral healed back over within a year. So while parrotfish may make some of the marks we see on coral, a bite mark does not automatically become the start of a long-term algal farm.

The more interesting question is what happens when wounds like these don’t heal.

Example one – from scars to farm

In March 2025, I photographed a coral with a scatter of white scars. By May, those small scars had started to join. A larger dead patch had formed, and algae was beginning to grow on the exposed skeleton. By December, the patch was broader and more clearly algal. By May and June 2026, the patch had become a dense algal mat. And there, right on it, was an adult aatuti.

View fullsize 8 March 2025
8 March 2025
View fullsize 26 March 2025
26 March 2025
View fullsize 9 May 2025
9 May 2025
View fullsize 10 July 2025
10 July 2025
View fullsize 16 October 2025
16 October 2025
View fullsize 11 December 2025
11 December 2025
View fullsize 31 January 2026
31 January 2026
View fullsize 28 February 2026
28 February 2026
View fullsize 26 March 2026
26 March 2026
View fullsize 3 April 2026
3 April 2026
View fullsize 16 May 2026
16 May 2026
View fullsize 13 June 2026
13 June 2026

Caption: A sequence from scattered white scars to a mature algal patch. INterestingly, in July, August and early September, the active white edge of the patch was absent, and in late March 2026 an adult aatuti seemed to have claimed the patch as his own. By the beginning of April the edges of the coral had begun to break up. In the photo below, there appears to be eggs in this patch.

An aatuti has claimed the patch, 8 June 2026

I am not saying the aatuti made the first scars. I cannot show that. What I can show is the sequence: living coral, small wounds, exposed skeleton, algal growth, a larger patch, and finally an aatuti on the patch. So a farm may not begin as a farm. It may begin as a wound.

Example two – the same pattern again

A second coral showed a similar progression. In April 2025, there were scattered white marks across the living coral surface. By May, there were more. Some were still separate. Others were close enough to begin joining. By October, several of those damaged areas had become one larger pale patch, and by June 2026, that patch had turned into a dense algal mat.

[Insert image sequence 2: April 2025, May 2025, October 2025, June 2026]

View fullsize 10 April 2025
10 April 2025
View fullsize 22 May 2025
22 May 2025
View fullsize 17 October 2025
17 October 2025
View fullsize 6 December 2025
6 December 2025
View fullsize 1 March 2026
1 March 2026
View fullsize 13 June 2026
13 June 2026

Caption: A second coral showing a similar pattern, although the original scars look quite different: small scars, coalescence, algal growth, then a larger patch with an aatuti (not shown) guarding what appears to be a new patch of eggs.

This example is useful because it shows the pattern was not a one-off occurrence.

It does not look like one neat event. It looks like a process. Small injuries appear. Some heal. Some do not. Algae takes hold where the coral tissue has been lost. At some point, that patch becomes useful to other fish and gradually the separate footholds become one larger patch.

Other fish get involved too

These developing patches are not only interesting to aatuti. On a third example, on 20 May 2026, my research cams caught a Lady Musgrave blenny nibbling at the developing algal growth. I’ve had to zoom in quite a bit to show the detail.

Look carefully, and on this same patch you can see a Doug’s eviota using the altered surface. These are tiny fish, and they are easy to miss. But they are part of the story too. Once living coral tissue is lost, algae starts growing, although it is difficult to see in this video. The surface then becomes something different. It becomes food. Shelter. Edge habitat. A place to graze, perch, hide or patrol. Before an aatuti fully takes over, other small fish may already be using the patch.

I will keep an eye on this patch to see how it evolves.

Then the edge starts to break up

An aatuti defending his eggs, Norfolk Island

I reckon the later stages of these patches are just as interesting. Returning to that first sequence (photos above) when the algal patch was already well established. By January 2026, the edge of the coral began to break up. The dead patch changed shape, the margin became more irregular, and part of the coral structure eventually broke away.

It is easy to make assumptions, so again, I need to be careful. I cannot prove from photos alone that the algal patch caused the breakage. Coral can break for many reasons. Water movement, weakening, bioerosion, old damage, boring organisms, or physical knocks may all play a part. But once coral tissue is lost, the exposed skeleton is more vulnerable. Algae, microbes, grazers and boring organisms can all start working on it. Over time, a dead patch is not just a flat stain on the surface, it can become a structurally weaker part of the coral.

Questions for another day

There are bigger questions here that I cannot answer from photographs alone.

Can a coral recover once an aatuti farm is established on its surface? Does the farm stay the same size, or does it keep expanding? Does the dead patch weaken the coral underneath? Could it change the local microbial community or increase the risk of disease at the coral edge?

The science from other reefs suggests I am not just overthinking this. Farming damselfish can maintain algal lawns, change the small-scale reef community, reduce coral growth or recruitment, and in some cases their farms have been linked with disease-associated microbes. But that does not mean every aatuti farm on Norfolk Island behaves the same way.

For now, all I can say is that these patches do not look static. They change. Edges shift. Algae thickens. Coral margins break down. Fish come and go.

So I will keep watching them.

What the science says

There are no papers that describe this exact sequence for aatuti on Norfolk Island, but there is good science around farming damselfish more generally. Studies on other farming damselfish have shown that these fish can maintain algal territories, alter the benthic community (other organisms) inside those territories, and in some cases expand across coral using small algae-covered scars as stepping stones.

That fits the broad pattern I am seeing here, although I am not claiming it is identical.

The wider reef context

It would be easy to leave this as a nice little fish story. But here on Norfolk Island the reef around it is changing. Our inshore reef is gradually becoming more algal. Recent reef-health monitoring by Ainsworth, Gaston, Leggat and colleagues has shown increasing algal cover across the lagoon sites, so these aatuti farms are not happening in isolation. They are part of a reef where algae already has more room than it used to.

That changes how I look at them.

An aatuti tending his algae patch, 26 June 2022

The same aatuti garden, 27 December 2022

13 June 2026

A single aatuti farm is small and easy to swim past. It’s also easy to dismiss as one bossy fish defending one patch of algae. But aatuti are common here, and territorial. They defend their patches hard. And if some individuals hold the same patch for months or years, these farms may be quite persistent features of the reef surface.

I have not found a published lifespan for Parma polylepis, but related scalyfins and other temperate damselfishes can live for decades. That makes me cautious about treating these farms as short-lived features of the reef. Some may be held, abandoned, reused or taken over across much longer periods than we would assume for a small fish.

I also do not know whether an aatuti keeps one farm for life, moves between farms, or takes over a patch started by another fish. I do not know whether a juvenile can grow up with a patch and later defend it as an adult.

Those are questions for another day.

On a reef where algae is already gaining ground, small, defended patches of algae deserve closer attention.

One last question – was the juvenile the same fish?

There is one question I cannot answer, but I keep coming back to it. In the early stages of the first example patch, there appears to be a juvenile banded scalyfin nearby. In the later photo, an adult aatuti is on the mature patch. Was it the same fish?

I don’t know.

It is tempting to think so. The site fits. The timing fits. Aatuti are territorial. But without some way to identify individuals, I cannot prove it. For now, this remains as another question.

Could a young aatuti begin using a small, damaged patch, then grow with it as the patch becomes a defended adult territory?

I wonder.


Selected references

Ainsworth, T. D., Heron, S. F., Lantz, C., & Leggat, W. (2021). Norfolk Island lagoonal reef ecosystem health assessment 2020–2021. Parks Australia / Sydney Institute of Marine Science.

Ainsworth, T. D., Gaston, T., Leggat, W., & Roughan, M. (2025). Norfolk Island lagoonal reef ecosystem health assessment. Parks Australia.

Casey, J. M., Ainsworth, T. D., Choat, J. H., & Connolly, S. R. (2014). Farming behaviour of reef fishes increases the prevalence of coral disease associated microbes and black band disease. Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 281(1795), 20141032. doi.org

Casey, J. M., Choat, J. H., & Connolly, S. R. (2015). Coupled dynamics of territorial damselfishes and juvenile corals on the reef crest. Coral Reefs, 34(1), 1–11. doi.org

Ceccarelli, D. M., Jones, G. P., & McCook, L. J. (2005). Effects of territorial damselfish on an algal-dominated coastal coral reef. Coral Reefs, 24(4), 606–620. doi.org

Charendoff, J. A., Edwards, C. B., Pedersen, N. E., Petrovic, V., Zgliczynski, B., Sandin, S. A., & Smith, J. E. (2023). Variability in composition of parrotfish bite scars across space and over time on a central Pacific atoll. Coral Reefs, 42(4), 905–918. doi.org

Hata, H., Takano, S., & Masuhara, H. (2020). Herbivorous damselfishes expand their territories after causing white scars on Porites corals. Scientific Reports, 10(1), 16172. doi.org

 

 

In Fish Tags Fish behaviour, Fish, aatuti, Parma polylepsis, banded scalyfin, algae, Algae farms
← The red seaweed behind low-methane beefNorfolk’s water quality – when action is reported as outcome →
Featured
Familiar faces – getting to know the reef’s residents
November 3, 2026
Familiar faces – getting to know the reef’s residents
November 3, 2026

Six years of swimming the same little reef have introduced me to some unforgettable characters that I’ve followed over time. From familiar fish and anemones to turtles and a snail’s eggs, this final article in my photographic series explores what I’ve learned about the lives of individual animals simply by returning, watching and taking photographs.

Read more →
November 3, 2026
When algae move in – the changing reef neighbourhood
November 1, 2026
When algae move in – the changing reef neighbourhood
November 1, 2026

Algae are a natural part of Norfolk Island's reef, changing with the underwater seasons. But sometimes their beautiful green growth conceals a rather sad story. In the fifth article of my six-part photographic series, I revisit familiar places to see how algae have changed over the years – and what might be hiding underneath.

Read more →
November 1, 2026
The slow disappearance – disease on the reef
October 30, 2026
The slow disappearance – disease on the reef
October 30, 2026

What happens after coral disease has run its course? In the fourth article of my six-part photographic series, I revisit colonies I've watched lose living tissue, sometimes alarmingly quickly. From a potentially century-old brain coral that lost most of its living tissue in less than 100 days to the algae-covered skeletons left years later, these photographs reveal the longer-term consequences of coral disease on Norfolk Island's reef.

Read more →
October 30, 2026
When storms rearrange the reef
October 28, 2026
When storms rearrange the reef
October 28, 2026

Sometimes the sea rearranges a reef in a matter of hours! In the third article of my six-part photographic series, I revisit corals broken, overturned or swept away by powerful swells and storm surges. Some disappeared altogether, while others found surprising ways to survive. Five photographic sequences reveal just how dramatically Norfolk Island's reef can change.

Read more →
October 28, 2026
When the reef fights back – coral growth and recovery
October 26, 2026
When the reef fights back – coral growth and recovery
October 26, 2026

Not every coral story ends badly! Among six years of underwater photographs are some wonderful examples of growth, survival and recovery. From corals that have grown spectacularly to others that have survived bleaching, breakage or even being turned upside down, this second article in my photographic series celebrates some of the reef's more encouraging stories.

Read more →
October 26, 2026
The neighbours – six years of watching the same reef
October 24, 2026
The neighbours – six years of watching the same reef
October 24, 2026

When I began photographing Norfolk Island's reef in 2020, I simply recorded whatever caught my eye. Six years later, those photographs have become a record of individual corals and their changing fortunes – growth, competition, survival and loss. This is the first of six articles looking back at what I've seen, and sometimes what I wish I hadn't.

Read more →
October 24, 2026
Pulling the rugosity from out of the reef
October 10, 2026
Pulling the rugosity from out of the reef
October 10, 2026

What do ‘rugosity’, structural complexity and channeling your inner fish have in common? Quite a lot, as it turns out. This week I’m looking at how all the lumps, bumps, branches, holes and ledges on a reef create habitat – with a brief detour into one of my long-standing tricks for navigating tertiary study: write down the jargon until it starts to make sense.

Read more →
October 10, 2026
How does a sea slug smell?
September 27, 2026
How does a sea slug smell?
September 27, 2026

It started with a close-up of a little Elysia and two rhinophores that looked like tiny rolled-up scrolls. Once I noticed them, I started going back through years of sea-slug photos and realised just how wildly different these sensory organs can be – ridged, rolled, curled, tubular and, in sea hares, distinctly rabbit-eared. So this week’s rabbit hole is all about how sea slugs ‘smell’ underwater, and why their noses come in so many different shapes.

Read more →
September 27, 2026
The Elite Fleet sails in
September 19, 2026
The Elite Fleet sails in
September 19, 2026

Nearly six years ago, my very first blog post was about the strange blue and violet creatures that live at the ocean’s surface – a group I christened Norfolk Island’s ‘Elite Fleet’. Since then I’ve seen plenty of bluebottles and the occasional violet sea snail, but never a by-the-wind sailor. Until this morning. Velella velella is not a true jellyfish, but a colonial hydrozoan with a transparent sail that lets the wind help carry it across the ocean. So what exactly is this extraordinary little creature, how does it ‘sail’, and what connects it to the rest of the fleet?

Read more →
September 19, 2026
In a nutshell – where I stand on the proposed Norfolk Island Marine Park
September 18, 2026
In a nutshell – where I stand on the proposed Norfolk Island Marine Park
September 18, 2026

I support the proposed expansion of Norfolk Marine Park and its renaming as Norfolk Island Marine Park. There is much to welcome – strong offshore protection, no mining, and recognition of the importance of sustainable local fishing. But I also have some reservations. Why does Cascade need to be removed from the Marine Park at all? How will more than 430,000 km² actually be monitored and enforced? How do we make sure Norfolk people have a genuine role in management? And, above all, how do we ensure that the enormous new park does not draw attention away from the small, stressed reef immediately beside us?

Read more →
September 18, 2026

Latest Posts

© 2026 All rights reserved.