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Jellies Features | 5 days 19 min ago | Comments 0 By Claudia Stahl
"Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads" --Henry David Thoreau Monday evening, July 14, 2008 My husband and I walk hand-in-hand, with our dog leading the way, over the dune to the cool sand of the Delaware Bay beach. With a warm July breeze wrapping around us and thwarting the bugs, the enchanted nature of a summer evening seaside stroll comes flooding back. I wonder how I could let so many opportunities to walk the beach at night slip away from me, as a waxing plump moon casts an ethereal silvery glow on the water just beyond the jetty ahead, making the sand below our feet a chalky gray. Ghostly sand crabs never touched by the sun scurry near the surf, and fishing boats twinkling against the dark horizon are more vivid than the constellations above us, blotted by the moon glow. Each deep, refreshing breath brings another association out of the vault; the reach of Cape May Light across the dark Atlantic, the magic of witnessing a moonset over the water, playing with plastic horses in cool, soft sand under a dizzying blanket of stars. And sand fleas--not so good. It takes a few minutes for us to realize that under our feet, with every step, a thousand "pebbles" are glowing bluegreen on the wet, packed sand. The foamy lips of the waves, as far as we can see along the shoreline, are dotted with floating blue-green, luminescent orbs. The sand is covered with the gelatinous masses, some smaller than a dime, flickering with intermittent electrical impulses like lightning in a Jell-o mold. Waves pass over the sand, belying beached jellies that flicker with the water's touch. As we climb over the jetty, where moonlight bathes the water, we are in awe of the prevalence of these glowing creatures riding in on the surf. We watch the sand beneath our dog's paws become a pulsating path, and then look down at our feet, lighting up below like Michael Jackson's Billy Jean video. Phoebe shows no signs of discomfort, so we do not worry about stings. We stop to take a panoramic snapshot of the twinkling flashes of blue around us. Maybe they were brought in by a "rubber tide," like the so-called electric jellyfish in The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. Maybe they light the way for mermaids who walk the earth one night a year. Or maybe they are communicating with their cousins in the celestial ocean above. OK, it's a property called bioluminescence, and lots of sea creatures have it. But for now I prefer to savor this wonder for what it is on its surface, a summer gift, courtesy of God and Mother Nature. ***post note, July 24, 2008 I couldn't suppress the research bug, so I called the museum at Cape May Point State Park to find out what species of jellies washed up, if it was a common phenomenon, etc. I learned that these were comb jellies in the medusa phase. They lack stinging cells, and were most likely churned up by the recent tropical storm Bertha. The best time to see them is during a full moon.
http://www.capemaycountyherald.com/article/33498-jellies