This post is a quick pictorial essay of one of our most recognisable coral bommies. This massive and incredibly slow-growing Paragoniastrea australensis sits off the Salt House inside Emily Bay on Norfolk Island. I have been told that it is a lot smaller than it used to be after sections tumbled off when storms came through. It’s still impressive, though, with many fish congregating around and within its folds. Sea anemones nestle in crevices, moray eels can sometimes be found poking out of holes, and banded scalyfins create their gardens on its sides. For some species, like the little peacock damselfish, Pomacentrus pavo, this coral is their world.
Most of the time, during daylight hours anyway, the unique maze across its face is a clear, crisply defined series of ridges. While all looks reasonably calm during the day, at night, while you are sleeping, the surface of the coral colony seethes with millions of tiny tentacles busily reaching out to find food, while others aggressively ward off opportunistic interlopers.
If you swim past just before dawn, as I did today, they will still be out, and you might notice that the surface of the colony has taken on a soft, fuzzy appearance. They also reach out with even longer ‘sweeper’ tentacles to ward off other corals that may want to invade, or grow, into their territory.
Below, you can see the coral during the day and in the pre-dawn. Click on each image to see a larger version.
I’ve posted about this species of coral before, so if you want to find out more, go here, War of the coral worlds! and, here, One hundred year-old coral gone in less that one hundred days.
The peacock damselfish, Pomacentrus pavo, that calls this bommie home