By Jim Knox
“What would you like to see?”
“Really? Anything?” I asked incredulously.
The question hung in the air waiting for me to direct our gracious host to any number of rare, obscure, or even extinct species, housed in the museum’s vast collections. Like a kid with an all-access fast pass to Disney, I brimmed with excitement.
My mind raced, went blank, then raced again as I considered the possibilities before me. As a zoological curator, I could not have stood in a more revered, and enviable location on the planet. Along with a colleague, I looked out on the archives of the Ichthyology Collection of the Harvard Museum of Comparative Zoology. Possessing one of the world’s largest collections of zoological specimens—the museum houses a staggering 21 million specimens and is consistently ranked among the finest natural history museums in the world.
Numerous living and extinct species vied for my attention, each more compelling than the last. A thought flashed and I spoke up.
“Do you have any Gulper eels?” I asked naively.
“Gulper eels, really?” our curatorial host asked in surprise.
“Yes, would that be possible?” I asked with greater excitement.
“Absolutely,” he responded after a moment. “It’s just that I can’t remember ever getting a request for Gulpers. These guys are one of my favorites!” he shared with a proud smile.
My colleague and I followed our two hosts into the archives, eventually hooking a left into the stacks of shelves within the zoological labyrinth. There, at chest level on one of the reinforced hardwood shelves, sat hundreds of huge, thick glass jars housing thousands of preserved specimens collected from the world’s waters over the centuries.
With casual familiarity he identified the 5-gallon vessel and he reached inward to open it. He produced an extended pair of forceps and deftly probed for a moment before producing a small creature from the amber liquid. I examined the juvenile creature minutely.
The Gulper eel, Pelican eel, or Umbrella-mouth eel, Eurypharynx pelecanoides, is a bizarre creature by most standards. Named for its superficial resemblance to pelicans, and ranging from 3 to 6 feet at maturity, these deep-sea fish inhabit the world’s temperate oceans at depths ranging from 1,600 to 26,000 feet. At such depths, ocean creatures employ various strategies for predator avoidance and prey capture. Possessing a unique complement of adaptations for capturing prey, these elongated blackish-greenish colored predators utilize phosphorescence for luring prey. With a pink glowing photophore, or light-emitting organ, the Gulper cruises the depths in search of prey. With intermittent flashes of red light, the eel draws the attention of crustaceans, squid, and fish. With tiny eyes adapted for detection of the faint light of its prey, the Gulper is able to approach the prey with whips of its slender tail. Once within range, the eel employs its namesake adaptation, a giant hinged, gulping pouch-like mouth.
With a quick lunge and expulsion of water, the Gulper traps its prey within its enormous pouched, lower jaw. The structure and function of this gulping jaw and extendable pouch is remarkable. Taking up approximately 1/3 of the creature’s length and exceeding its body’s bulk, the jaw is formidable, enabling the Gulper to engulf and consume prey far larger than itself. Now, let that sink in for a moment because in the animal kingdom where amazing feats are the rule, the Gulper’s ability is exceptional. Creatures that can capture and consume prey larger than themselves in one giant gulp are rare indeed. This trait comes in handy in the deep sea where prey is scarce, and prey encounters may be sporadic at best. This confers a huge survival advantage to the alien-looking eels.
While the Gulper is just one of the many known deep sea creatures, with more than 80% of our planet’s oceans unexplored, it seems we are in store for a many more to come. In fact, each year an average of 20,000 new species are discovered by science! That staggering figure hints at the sheer volume of species unknown to science and hints at the likelihood of new discoveries about known species.
Research institutions such as the Harvard Museum of Comparative Zoology open a window on the natural world. By providing us with scientific data from precise dates and locations from around the world, they enable us to identify the historical presence, rarity, abundance, and diversity of the creatures in their collections. This in turn enables scientists to gauge means of conservation. With between 90-99% of the world’s estimated species unknown to science, such knowledge of the past is essential to protect the known wild world, and to safeguard what still awaits discovery.
