The Daisy Anemone. Cereus pedunculatus (Pennant), Sagartia bellis (Gosse).

Whenever I bring this anemone to mind, I cannot help but smile and recall the events of my introduction to it. Being unknown to me at the time, I was fascinated to read Gosse's account of his efforts to secure a specimen from just below the waters surface at Petit Tor.

“In the sunshine of a fair day they expand beautifully, and you may see them studding the face of the rock just beneath the surface, from the size of a shilling to that of a crown piece. Nothing seems easier than to secure them, but no sooner do the fingers touch one, than its beautifully circular disk begins to curl and pucker its margin, and to incurve it in the form of a cup; if further annoyed, the rim of this cup contracts more and more, until it closes, and the animal becomes globose and much diminished, receding all the time from the assault, and retiring into the rock. Presently you discover that you can no longer touch it at all; it is shrunk to the bottom of its hole; the sharp irregular edges of which project and furnish a stony defence to the inhabitant. Nothing will do but the chisel, and this is by no means easy of appliance.” Rambles page 25/6.

Continuing with his description, of trying to hit the chisel underwater, of the water becoming ever cloudier with each strike, eventually working from touch alone as the anemone shrunk ever smaller; what a prize this anemone must be to warrant such diligence and fortitude.

Unable to resist such temptation, after referring to the tide chart, I finalised my plan to visit Petit Tor for my first ever “anemone expedition” in the spring of 2002. Arriving at the shore I patiently waited for the tide to reach its lowest point, but as the water receded a cloud of disappointment slowly descending upon me. I had naively expected from Gosse's descriptive text to find a cliff-face that could, albeit with some difficulty, at least be negotiated, but now, with the water at low tide, I was presented with a sheer under sloping cliff-face that was impossible to investigate. With the shingle beach dropping steeply beneath the waters edge, wading out anything more than a few meters also proved impossible. Disappointed with my utter failure to find a single specimen, I decided to explore further along the beach to see how much this small part of the Devonshire coast had changed; vowing to return better prepared at a future date.

Although I was obviously aware of the most common anemones, the beadlet, dahlia, strawberry and snakelocks, others anemones presented somewhat of a mystery to me, so I was eager to discover this supposedly common species that I had never knowingly observed. Aware of their existence from books, after a lifetime of searching the lower shore, I had long since learned that such terms as “commonly found” or “inhabits the area”, to be at least ambiguous or at most very misleading. Arming myself with Gosse's Actinologia Britannica 1860, Stephenson's British Sea Anemones 1938, and Manuel's British Anthozoa 1981, I determined to “get to grips” with my ignorance.

I soon discovered from Gosse's “Actinologia Britannica” that the anemone I had always identified under the local name of “sand anemone” was in fact the daisy anemone, and was still to be found in huge numbers, much as Gosse described; but again my initial joy was to be tempered with disappointment as I read –

"But Weymouth possesses a breed of the species which deviates much more widely from the normal habit. It is the variety which I have called sordida , having an eye not less to its filthy dwelling-place than to its dirty colour. The broad expanse of fetid mud, either wholly bare at low tide, or covered only with a foot or two of water, that floors the two inlets called the Fleet and Backwater, is studded with multitudes of these dingy Anemones. The soft slimy mud affords no proper surface for adhesion; and hence the animals can scarcely be said to adhere in the manner of the family, but simply to rest on the broad base. This is not, however, indicative of any defect in the power of adhesion; for on being removed to a basin of sea-water, they are soon found firmly attached to the bottom and sides.
With these exceptions I have not found belis at Weymouth ; which is more the remarkable since the long ledges of low rock, broken into fissures, and excavated into numberless hollows, would seem to present a favourable site for it." Act: Brit: p43/5.

Disappointed by the name he had bequeathed upon my new discovery, I did feel somewhat better a few weeks later when, searching the reefs Gosse describes as “in front of my lodgings at the Lookout”, I found a stone covered in delicate red seaweed which I placed in my aquarium. The following morning I was pleased to see protruding from a crevice on that very same stone, a small daisy anemone in proud display.

By this time, I felt I knew more about the daisy anemone than I ever thought I would, or should ever need to; but suspected this would not be the end of my association with it. Ever more puzzled that Gosse should go to such lengths as climbing along a cliff face with hammer and chisel to collect such an easily procured creature, I could not help but investigate the animal's habitat further. As with virtually any other anemone, the daisy anemones first reaction upon being disturbed is to retreat into cover, albeit that provided by its dwelling place; a simple enough task when it has chosen to live in a hole in a rock, but not for those that live in sand, as retraction can only be achieved if the anemone is adhered by its base to a solid object. Upon further investigation I soon discovered that the masses of daisy anemones living in the sand of Portland Harbour are in fact adhered to stones and pebbles that are buried below the surface of the sand.
Those living in the mud of the nearby Fleet, when dug up, tend to have a number of small, tightly packed pebbles, attached to their base much like the foundations of a building. Although my investigation clearly explained how the daisy anemones are able to retract into the sand, it did not give any answer or explanation as to how they managed to find the buried stones, or gather a number of smaller stones together in the first instance.
Let me close further discussion upon this creature with my last finding, those anemones I did remove from the sand, when placed amongst the stones in my aquarium immediately settled into the sheltered cracks I had made available to them, showing no signs of distress, confirming the results of a similar experiment undertaken by Gosse. I was disappointed however that those I have collected, have never changed colour to the delicate hues that Gosse describes; but on the other hand, they have grown considerably, beyond a size that I have yet to observe in the wild.

It is now over three years since I took an interest in this plain looking creature, but still it attracts my attention; those first collected specimens still adorn my aquarium, presenting me with ever more interesting pictures.
Having the opportunity to visit Petit Tor again a year later, I joyfully packed both my wet suit and underwater camera in anticipation of discovery, but alas, my search for Gosse's pretty daisy anemone again proved fruitless; but to my joy however, I did find and photograph my first sea cucumber.
Since then a number of people have contacted me about this anemone, most referring to it as a nuisance in their own aquarium, as it needs little care or special attention; whilst regularly multiplying in number. I can only regard this as one of its charms, as other anemones in the same circumstances refuse to display in the aquarium unless special attention is paid to temperature, light and water flow.

Bob Alexander. Nov. 05.