Category: Sea-Monkeys

I ran across this lovely poem at run jen run and had to share it with you:

Don’t Call Me a Brine Shrimp

Don’t call me a brine shrimp.
I am a Sea-Monkey®,
A Sea-Monkey® of love.
I confound scientists
Sprung to life from just a little pouch.
I have three eyes
Because I just can’t get enough of you.
We will make sweet love
Behind the glow-in-the-dark treasure chest
Or not.
I am also asexual.

Don’t call me a brine shrimp.
I am a Sea-Monkey®,
A Sea-Monkey® of love.
Please remember to give me one level spoon
Of specially formulated Sea-Monkey® food
Once each week
And I promise you this:
Hours and hours of fun
Until I die within one to two years.
Or sooner
If you forget to feed me.

I am not a brine shrimp.
Do brine shrimp live in rocket ship homes?
Can brine shrimp perform tricks?
Do brine shrimp bring laughter to children the world over?
Have brine shrimp known love?

I am a giant.
I am a clown.
I am an astronaut.
I am a hunter.

So don’t call me a brine shrimp.
I am a Sea-Monkey®,
Your Sea-Monkey® of love.

If my love for this poem makes no sense to you, read my Sea-Monkey Diaries.

The triops came yesterday! Shortly after I returned from lunch, FedEx brought my triops kit. Everyone at the office was very excited and wanted me to get them going right away. Unfortunately, we didn’t have any distilled water and there’s no place nearby to get some. I was going to wait, but I don’t have the attention span for that sort of thing. Instead, I used spring water from the water cooler. If nothing hatches, it’s my fault from the get-go.

The triops kit came with a small plastic tank, a packet of eggs mixed with what looks like sawdust, a packet of food pellets, a bag of beach sand and a purple and green plastic castle. In the diagrams, the castle looks small enough to be completely submerged; in reality, it sticks out of the top of the tank in an odd and unattractive manner.

I rinsed the sand as instructed and filled the tank with water after burying the foundations of the plastic castle in the sand. The directions said to put half of the eggs packet into the tank. The sawdust was still floating on top when I left several hours later, but the directions gave no indication of what should be done about that. Stirring made no difference. The water turned murky right away, so I can imagine that viewing the hatchlings is going to be a challenge. Other triops sites warn that frequent water changes are important to keep the tank from getting completely disgusting.

I’ll keep you posted on how the triops experiment works out. If it’s as bad as everyone’s saying, I might reconsider having a beta fish on my desk instead. Either that or I could just do my work and leave the animal husbandry projects at home. But what fun would that be?

November 21, 2000

I’m looking at the Ocean-Zoo on my windowsill as late-afternoon sunlight pours through the window and illuminates the water. The effect of the light beaming through the bright green spots and hanging tendrils of algae makes the tank look like Sea-Monkey paradise as envisioned by Maxfield Parrish. I’ve just aerated the water, so the big female Sea-Monkey and her brood are circling joyfully.

This is the kind of sight that harkens back to the early days of my Sea-Monkey ownership, when every development was new and interesting. The new babies are thriving, and I’m beginning to appreciate that each generation may have a few surprises in store after all.

The rampant algae growth is rather unexpected. The bottom of the tank appears to have been accessorized with shag carpeting in a conglomeration of verdant shades. The green-crayon-colored spots on the walls of the tank are getting more and more dense. Most recently, algae has begun to float to the waterline like aquatic Spanish moss.

The female Sea-Monkey, turned pale yellow backlit by the bright sunlight, looks like she’s making snow angels in the water. The soft-pink babies make a beautiful contrast to the shamrock-green algae patches, like pink blossoms on ivy. I wish I had a “Sea-Monkey Cam” to share the sight with you.

I haven’t gotten around to starting the Triops yet. I was sidelined by a cold over the weekend, so I haven’t had the chance to set up a safe, permanent spot for their bowl. Perhaps that would be best left for the weekend.

We’ve all had the opportunity to come to some conclusions about Sea-Monkeys. Their life cycle holds some scientific interest, they’re kind of cute, and they don’t require a lot of maintenance. They’re a little dull, though, it turns out. Once you’ve raised them through one generation and started another, the variables are pretty much exhausted.

What if Sea-Monkeys were bigger…more colorful…perhaps carnivorous? In a week or so, you need wonder no longer!

My friend Christy has presented me with a new variety of dehydrated sea creature that can be raised in a tank: Triops. They come packaged like Kool-Aid or Burpee zucchini seeds in a colorful packet adorned with exciting dinosaur artwork. “They’re ALIVE!” proclaims the packaging, and we Sea-Monkey veterans cannot doubt it.

How are Triops different than Sea-Monkeys, you ask? Well, Sea-Monkeys are the pacifist tree-huggers of the undersea world. They do little besides eat algae, swim around and mate enthusiastically when given the chance. Triops, on the other hand, are not so peace-loving. Right on the back of the packet it says, “Feed them twice daily and your Triops will live 20 to 70 days – unless, of course, they are eaten alive by their cannibal siblings.” Awwwright!

Unlike the diminutive 3/4″ long Sea-Monkeys, Triops “quickly grow up to two inches long.” They look like big, mottled, reddish and bluish Sea-Monkeys, judging from the drawings on the package and the photos I’ve seen online. Yes, even though I’ve never heard of them before, Triops are already popular enough to merit their own web-ring.

There’s one slight drawback to Triops ownership: the tank environment. Triops aren’t picky about the mineral balance in their tank, but they need their water to be at least 74 degrees Fahrenheit. This means their bowl has to sit under a desk lamp that’s on all the time. If not for this detail, I would have a bowl of rapidly hatching eggs on my desk right now. Instead, I am afraid I will have to raise this batch of desktop pets at home, rather than risk having the cleaning crew turn off their lamp over the holiday weekend and cut their lives short.

The main disincentive to raising them at home will be the limited observation time. I will have to make a point to sit in my home office more often so I can send you full and accurate reports. I also kinda wanted to see if the Triops would notice their tasty little brine shrimp neighbors in the Ocean-Zoo. I guess you wouldn’t be able to see them drooling underwater anyway.

My plan is to get the desk lamp fired up this evening and warm up their water enough to add the eggs before I go to bed. If all goes according to plan, there will be aggressive little Triops larvae swimming around by Sunday morning. Keep an eye out for frequent reports – this oughtta be good!

Do not be alarmed! I know I’m a little behind on the Sea-Monkey reports, but it’s not because of anything catastrophic.

To be honest, the Ocean-Zoo is looking a little rough these days. The walls and floor are covered with large, Kelly-green spots of what I can only assume is algae. It looks moldy and gross, but the Sea-Monkeys do not seem to care.

The only easily visible Sea-Monkey left is a surprisingly long-lived female. However, there are still lots of babies in the tank, and many are can now be seen from a few feet away if you stop dead and really concentrate.

I have seriously cut back on feedings, partly because of the vigorous algae growth and partly because I’m afraid I was feeding them to death. According to the handy-dandy “Official Sea-Monkey Handbook,” green algae is beneficial to the Sea-Monkeys as a food source and oxygen-producer, so I’m sure they’re in no danger of starving.

The adult female Sea-Monkey appears healthy and vigorous, but you just never know. She spends the majority of her time grubbing around at the bottom of the tank. Sometimes in the morning I think she might be dead until I see the plume of tank muck she stirs up while she’s hunting for the perfect molecules of algae for breakfast.

The babies range in size from about 1.5mm down to “tiny little speck.” The larger ones are already wide at the front, tapering to a straight little tail at the back. They’re all whitish in color – I haven’t used the “Red Magic” vitamins lately.

So that’s the latest Sea-Monkey saga. I have high hopes for this new crop of youngsters. They will carry the torch for their fallen ancestors (many of whom are still enhancing the topography with their withered corpses). Try to enjoy your lunch.

I’m trying to stay hopeful, despite the fact that the Sea-Monkey population is now down to only two females. Since they do not really need the males to reproduce, I’m taking that as a positive sign. They’re now a true colony of Amazons, having dispensed with their useless, weak males.

There are dozens of babies in the tank again. Obviously, I’m not holding my breath waiting for them to mature, but it’s nice to know that the water isn’t so tainted that babies can’t hatch. That isn’t to say I expect any babies to remain by the time I come back in on Monday, but I like to view the Ocean-Zoo as “half full,” not “half empty.”

I fed the tiny colony some “Red-Magic Sea-Monkey Vitamins” in the no doubt futile hope that it will nourish the babies through the weekend. They are actually pretty big; they look like magnified sperm cells doing the disco of life through the murky tank water. I could go further with this metaphor, but probably not without ranging into the territory of questionable taste.

The last two adults look as vigorous as ever, Ethel Mermaning through the tank with joy. Sea-Monkeys have absolutely no maternal instincts, so they treat the youngsters no differently than drifting flakes of bottom-algae. Fortunately, the babies don’t seem to mind.

So, that’s this week’s story – short and sweet. Last week’s response to the idea that the Sea-Monkey reports might come to an end leads me to the conclusion that, one way or another, the weekly reports will go on. I don’t know if they’ll always be about water-dwelling live bait, but they’ll continue in one form or another.

Sea-Monkeys in the Media Alert: Yesterday I was reading the Web site of my favorite columnist, James Lileks, and he mentioned having Sea-Monkeys! It was the ‘Daily Bleat’ at www.lileks.com (a site well worth checking out under any circumstances – especially the “Institute of Official Cheer” section). Apparently it’s a tradition in Mr. Lileks’ neighborhood to put out a jack o’lantern for each family member. He said he was tempted to put 50 small pumpkins on the front porch and if anyone asked he’d say they were for the Sea-Monkeys. Obviously he is a man of taste and distinction.

Sadly I have nowhere near 50 Sea-Monkeys myself. The twilight of the Sea-Monkeys is at hand. The adults in the tank now number only three: two females and one male. The other female disappeared overnight this week. I haven’t been able to spot her corpse among the undersea peaks and valleys in the Ocean-Zoo, so I think it’s a reasonable hypothesis that she was abducted by aliens.

In the name of science, I am definitely planning to “resurrect” the Sea-Monkey colony when the remaining creatures die off. I have already placed my order for water purifier with the TranScience Corporation in preparation.

The hard decision will be: what about the Sea-Monkey reports? You are all now intimately familiar with the life cycle of Artemia Nyos. Shall we start over and see if anything changes? Should I try something different, like starting two tanks at the same time and comparing the new with the old? Perhaps I should just get an ant farm and begin a new series. Reader suggestions are welcome!

I’m sure it won’t come as too much of a surprise that there is only one male Sea-Monkey left. He has a harem of three females, and I’m sure he’s enjoying his “last man left on earth” status. At least until the exertion kills him.

When I came in this morning I observed that the Ocean-Zoo was very chilly after sitting in the windowsill all night. It doesn’t seem to bother the adults, but I only see one baby in there now. I think the fall/winter plan will be to return the Sea-Monkeys to my desktop, at least at night. I don’t want to come in one day and find little shrimpsicles frozen to the sides of the tank. “Think of the children,” that’s my new motto.

The Official Sea-Monkey Handbook says that Sea-Monkeys can “adapt to cooler climates such as found in Northern Europe and Canada.” Aside from the fact that this seems to imply that people in Northern Europe and Canada never heat their houses when it’s cold, it does serve to allay some of my worries.

The miracle of Sea-Monkey Instant Life is that if all the tank denizens die off, I can let all the water evaporate, get another package of Water Purifier, and stir in fresh water. Apparently the scum at the bottom of the tank is just chock-full of Sea-Monkey eggs in “suspended animation” (I won’t quibble about the “suspended” part, but “animation”?).

Anyway, these eggs will only hatch after a second or third round of dehydration. The Handbook goes into a creepy riff about bringing your dead Sea-Monkeys back to life, which is a) not accurate, and b) conjures up images of “Night of the Living Dead Sea-Monkeys.” This pales in comparison to the description of “Necroovoviviparity,” which you Latin scholars can guess means eggs hatching within the bodies of dead Sea-Monkey mothers. Eeeeww!

So that’s this week’s news on the crustacean front. Try not to lose any sleep over it!

Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.

My worst fear was realized! The day after I reported to you my worry about an ant dying in the Sea-Monkey tank – it happened. Fortunately Part II of my worst-case scenario did not come to pass. The drowning of the ant did not appear to have any effect on the tank’s inhabitants. Whew.

The other threat, bug poison, was not a factor either. The exterminator guy managed to confine his death-dealing to the non-aquatic insects in the building, so the Sea-Monkeys were unaffected. I moved them away from the windowsill for the duration of the spraying, just in case.

The exterminator paused to relate an amusing story about a woman in a million dollar mansion who expected him to rid her of a serious mouse infestation without killing any of the rodents. “I’m an exterminator,” he told her. “I haven’t perfected my piping skills well enough to lead them down the road out of town,” is what he says he wishes he’d said.

So, back to the Sea-Monkeys. I still have the three females and two males. The good news is on the Generation B front. The babies in the tank appear to be maturing a bit beyond the little perishable specks that have come and gone since Generation A first began to get randy. There are quite a few young ‘uns in the tank that are visible from a distance, so I’m hoping that a new group will grow up by the time the rest of the old fogies kick the bucket.

I had almost forgotten how cute the babies are, swimming around in jerky little spirals. They haven’t reached the more graceful stage with all the waving, translucent…whoa! Big Sea-Monkey fight!!! I was gazing at them for inspiration when all of a sudden the largest male attacked the other male in the midst of mating. He is hassling the pair relentlessly. Meanwhile, two apparently undesirable females are going about their business unhindered and un-lusted for. Sea-Monkeys have all the social sophistication of a biker gang.

Suddenly, the high male Sea-Monkey mortality rate doesn’t seem like such a mystery. Cool the testosterone, boys!

Special same-day Sea-Monkey update:

Mr. Sore Loser Sea-Monkey has swallowed his pride and is now busily engaged in invertebrate intercourse with one of the previously rejected females. Classy, dude.