THE MYSTERY VISITOR

By Pascal Geraghty on January 24, 2017 in Other

I’m ashamed to say that I was over on the north side the other week. As in all the way over the bridge, on the other side of the harbour.

I gathered a selection of survival equipment for the journey: a sextant, astronomic charts, a compass, maps, radio comms, food and water rations, boardies and a personal locator beacon. I fuelled up the car, plus a few extra jerries just to be safe, and set off from Coogee with the family. I successfully navigated us to Little Manly, where we dived in for a refreshing swim.

We were towelling off on the grass when I noticed a large fin slicing through the water only metres from the sand and swimmers. Was it a shark? No, it couldn’t be. The fin was behaving too erratically, darting this way and that and swinging side to side. Quickly onlookers were shoulder-to-shoulder at the water’s edge, scratching their heads. It was most unusual. We then thought that it could only be an inquisitive, playful seal sticking its flipper out. The only flaw in that hypothesis was that it never once came up for breath. Then all of a sudden the mystery beast launched its full body out of the water, but instead of furnishing a positive ID it only confused us further.

Several people swiftly launched their SUPs to investigate. It turned out to be a sunfish!

I nearly fell off the kids’ swings when this info struggled into my exostoses-riddled ears. I thought sunfish were just big, strange-looking, pelagic lumps found drifting far out to sea gobbling jellyfish, not lithe, limber fish scooting around in chest-deep water. It turns out they can be all of the above. While not their modus operandi, I’ve since learnt that they are known to materialise in shallow coastal waters and, in fact, have a rich history in Sydney Harbour and Manly Cove especially.

The sunfish is the heaviest, and certainly one of the weirdest, bony fish on the planet. It’s a relative of the pufferfish of all things, and is frequently seen sun baking near the surface. It also spends considerable time at depths greater than 200 metres. Its teeth are fused into a beak-like structure making it unable to fully close its small mouth. Ironically for a fish, it’s also a clumsy swimmer that waggles its fins for propulsion and steerage. Like a poor driver it requires plentiful room to maneouver.

The clue as to what this sunfish was doing at Little Manly lies in the fact that the species is known to become infested with skin parasites. To combat this they visit shallow waters and offer these critters to the local small fish to chew on. Their other strategy is to jump up into the air and land with a splash to try to shake the parasites free. So I’m guessing our friend had a bug problem.

That sunfish is something I’ll remember forever. It’s added in me another layer of fascination for Sydney Harbour. For a big city, she’s still got some splendid surprises up her sleeve! I’m looking forward to the next one.