Tree Octopus
Tree Octopus
Tree Octopus
the Olympic Peninsula on the west coast of North America. Their habitat lies on the Eastern side of the
Olympic mountain range, adjacent to Hood Canal. These solitary cephalopods reach an average size
(measured from arm-tip to mantle-tip,) of 30-33 cm. Unlike most other cephalopods, tree octopuses are
amphibious, spending only their early life and the period of their mating season in their ancestral
aquatic environment. Because of the moistness of the rainforests and specialized skin adaptations, they
are able to keep from becoming desiccated for prolonged periods of time, but given the chance they
would prefer resting in pooled water.
An intelligent and inquisitive being (it has the largest brain-to-body ratio for any mollusk), the tree
octopus explores its arboreal world by both touch and sight. Adaptations its ancestors originally evolved
in the three dimensional environment of the sea have been put to good use in the spatially complex
maze of the coniferous Olympic rainforests. The challenges and richness of this environment (and the
intimate way in which it interacts with it,) may account for the tree octopus's advanced behavioral
development. (Some evolutionary theorists suppose that "arboreal adaptation" is what laid the
groundwork in primates for the evolution of the human mind.)
Reaching out with one of her eight arms, each covered in sensitive suckers, a tree octopus might grab a
branch to pull herself along in a form of locomotion called tentaculation; or she might be preparing to
strike at an insect or small vertebrate, such as a frog or rodent, or steal an egg from a bird's nest; or she
might even be examining some object that caught her fancy, instinctively desiring to manipulate it with
her dexterous limbs (really deserving the title "sensory organs" more than mere "limbs",) in order to
better know it.
Tree octopuses have eyesight comparable to humans. Besides allowing them to see their prey and
environment, it helps them in inter-octopus relations. Although they are not social animals like us, they
display to one-another their emotions through their ability to change the color of their skin: red
indicates anger, white fear, while they normally maintain a mottled brown tone to blend in with the
background.
The reproductive cycle of the tree octopus is still linked to its roots in the waters of the Puget Sound
from where it is thought to have originated. Every year, in Spring, tree octopuses leave their homes in
the Olympic National Forest and migrate towards the shore and, eventually, their spawning grounds in
Hood Canal. There, they congregate (the only real social time in their lives,) and find mates. After the
male has deposited his sperm, he returns to the forests, leaving the female to find an aquatic lair in
which to attach her strands of egg-clusters. The female will guard and care for her eggs until they hatch,
refusing even to eat, and usually dying from her selflessness. The young will spend the first month or so
floating through Hood Canal, Admiralty Inlet, and as far as North Puget Sound before eventually moving
out of the water and beginning their adult lives.
Route 101, separating the rainforests of the Olympic Peninsula from Hood Canal
Although the tree octopus is not officially listed on the Endangered Species List, we feel that it should be
added since its numbers are at a critically low level for its breeding needs. The reasons for this dire
situation include: decimation of habitat by logging and suburban encroachment; building of roads that
cut off access to the water which it needs for spawning; predation by foreign species such as house cats;
and booming populations of its natural predators, including the bald eagle and sasquatch. What few that
make it to the Canal are further hampered in their reproduction by the growing problem of pollution
from farming and residential run-off. Unless immediate action is taken to protect this species and its
habitat, the Pacific Northwest tree octopus will be but a memory.
The possibility of Pacific Northwest tree octopus extinction is not an unwarranted fear. Other tree
octopus species—including the Douglas octopus and the red-ringed madrona sucker—were once
abundant throughout the Cascadia region, but have since gone extinct because of threats similar to
those faced by paxarbolis, as well as overharvesting by the now-illegal tree octopus trade.
While efforts were made in the past to preserve remaining tree octopus habitat, these were met with
resistance by the timber industry, which has traditionally viewed the tree octopus as a nuisance, both
because the octopuses favor the valuable, moss-shrouded trees of old growth forests—pitting
conservation needs against lucrative sources of lumber—and because octopuses hiding among felled
trees often gummed up sawmills and stained pulp vats with their ink.
Traveling sideshow exhibits, such as this one by Glen "Bones" Hartzell from 1942, demonized tree
octopuses to the ignorant masses
(Click to enlarge)
These nuisances led many loggers to regard tree octopuses as bad luck, resulting in the pointless killing
of octopuses on sight at logging camps in a misguided attempt at eradicating the troublesome species.
Anti-octopus sentiment was so strong among loggers that some even began to fear that the octopuses
were prone to attacking humans.
These fears were fueled in no small part by gratuitous stories involving tree octopuses harassing
lumberjacks and distressing damsels in Northwestern-themed pulp magazines of the 1930-40s and
variously "nipping", "entangling", or "suckering the flesh" of the heroes of men's action magazines of the
1950-60s. (The magazine publishers depended on cheap paper made from wood pulp and were glad to
contribute to the anti-octopus propaganda campaign of the timber industry.)
To this day, misunderstanding and fear of these gentle creatures can still be found among many old
timers, although education campaigns—and special octopus-separators installed at sawmills—have
largely halted the practice of tree octopus eradication.