The Palolo Lets

Why and When—

Its Tail Go

By R. W. Robson

HAVING eaten, at the hospital table of Harold Gatty, in Suv’ a soup of peculiar, delicious an unforgettable flavour, made from tti “Palolo worm,” I became intereste m this extraordinary zoologies manifestation.

I found that there is quite a liters ture on the Palolo; but that all re ferences came back to the centn mystery; Why does the “worm” ris at a certain time, and no other?

First, let me quote the Encyclo paedia: The Palolo (Eunice viridii is an edible Annelid, common aroun Samoa and Fiji and some oth« Pacific islands; and it has an ex traordinary breeding swarm in G« tober and November each year, i or near the last quarter of tH moon. Just before daylight, th water (around the coral reefs) bo comes thick with worms, like vernu celli soup. “The swarming worm which are eagerly collected by tb natives, are really the headless par of the worms, laden with eggs an sperms, which they liberate fc rupture. The head-ends remain i the burrows in the coral reefs, an grow new posterior ends.”

Most of my Pacific books descriU the merry scenes as canoe-loads o Samoans or Fijians gather at cei tain places just before dawn eac year and await the rising of tb Palolo; the way in which tb wriggling masses are scooped in; an the feasts that ensue.

The “worm” is from 3 to 6 inch* long, about as thick as a quill, som brown and some green.

MR. GATTY (who first earne fame as a navigator) said b had studied the phenomenc as far as he could and had decide that he could predict the momen of the “rising.” He said the thin is not a worm, but a collection « eggs from a creature shaped like tiny lobster—the rising is real] a spawning. The creature discaro the latter portion of its body, whio rises to the surface, and the hes lives on in the hole in the coral!

He said: “If the last quarter i the moon is after October 15, the rise then, and again in the lai quarter of November moon—t hr latter a big rise. If the last quart*; is early in November, they riiJ then, and again in the last quart*; of the moon in December. This cer be calculated to the exact hour-' 4 am in the morning of that dai or between 4 am and 8 am—neve 1 later.”

I gathered that Harold Gatty has had arguments with friends aboir

the precise time; but he proved his ! calculations by going out in his own at the hour fixed, and bring ing home the bacon. “There must be thousands of tons of this stuff around these reefs at that particular moment,” he said. “But it dis appears quickly.”

But neither Mr. Gatty, nor any of my old book-writers had offered any i explanation of why the Palolo rises at that particular time.

I WAS still wondering about it when, on December 16 (a week ago) I received from Mr. Edward W.

Johnson, of Pago Pago, a typed copy of “Salamasina —Scenes from Ancient Samoan Culture and History>” written in 1923, in Ger man, by Augustin Kraemer, and translated in 1949. This is a rather fascinating history of the kingly families of Samoa; and there, on page 65, I found what seems to be the key of the mystery. I cannot tell whether this is taken from Samoan legend, or whether it is the deduction of the German author: but here it is.

A Samoan royal party had arrived at a certain place on the Upolu coast about November 10, and the Palolo was expected to rise. “At the be ginning of this November the sun culminates on its way to the south: and at midday stands vertically above Samoa. If a sun-ray then could pierce the earth, it would strike the full moon on the opposite side. The two heavenly bodies ex ercise such an attraction on the waters of the ocean that the tides at Palolo time are over a foot higher and lower than usual. At noon time, then, the coral reef lies bare for several hours and is exposed to the burning rays of the sun. No wonder that at this season certain sea-animals reach their full develop ment, just as the land produces its fruits in greater abundance.

“The Palolo worm bores with its sharp teeth into the coral rock, where it makes its home. There the males and females form long, thread-like tails, which on the critical day are cast off and float about in the sea. It is the Palolo’s wedding journey. The threads burst, and the brown females pour their eggs into the water, where they are fertilised by the sperm from the greenish male threads.”

Apparently, the Palolo is ready to swarm in the October-November period. But, to do so, it needs just a little additional stimulus, given by the sun’s rays. This comes when the sun and the moon get into juxta-position. This induces an extra low tide, and a correspond ingly additional exposure of the reef to the sun. Thereupon, the Palolo lets its tail go.

Astronomical experts, like friend Gatty, can calculate that time, practically to the minute. But how did the old-time Polynesians—and their children of to-day know exactly the time to go out and scoop up the Palolo eggs?