Hi! I’m a sponge! And,
I occupy my own special place in the animal kingdom (called Phylum
Ponifera–no doubt because I’m so irrepressibly
porous). In the scientific scale of things that puts me one
giant step up from those boring old Protozoa, and
one step removed from the Coelenterata–which,
if you ask me, is a pretty fancy name for a bunch of slimy
jellyfish and polyps–definite low lifes.
Now you, like many early naturalists,
might have mistaken me for a plant. That’s ok. No
offense taken. Although those jokes about me being spineless
aren’t particularly appreciated…
So, what makes me an animal? Well, the
explanation gets pretty technical but there are a couple
of critical points.
First, I digest solid food (mostly bacteria–yum!,
poor defenseless microorganisms, and the occasional bit
of organic debris.) I don’t have to go uptown to get
a decent bite to eat. I just sit around and help myself
to all the water-borne particles I like as they flow through
my rather sophisticated system of internal canals and secret
passageways.
Second, and best of all, I have sex!
No foolin’! In fact I can even have sex with myself!
But it’s actually more fun when one of my chaonocyte
cells captures a permatozoan that’s been released
by another sponge and hands it over to one of my eggs.
Nine months later…kaboom!
Ok, So it’s not nine months later.
And it’s not really kaboom either. Actually, I develop
rather quickly from an embryonic to larval form and then
leave mom (or was that dad?) and go swimming off in the
search of a nice safe place to attach myself. There, depending
on the region (in particular, the water temperature) I’ll
usually grow to maturity between spring and autumn.
I can live up to twenty years. But I’ll
be big enough to start getting up close and personal with
you in your tub after about seven years. Plus, if I’m
harvested carefully and correctly. I’ll grow back!
In fact I can completely regenerate from a single cell.
But my chances for survival are much better if I’m
carefully cut (instead of pulled, twisted, torn, yanked,
or otherwise abused) from my rocky anchorage with a very
sharp knife. That way, there’ll be enough left of
my root system (and charming personality) to quickly re-make
myself in my own image.
That’s where my main man George
Cantonis comes in. He’s a sponge processor in Florida.
That means he selects the best sponges the divers bring
in and then his crew cleans, sorts, and cuts them to size.
George only deals with divers who obey the Florida law
and my squeaky-clean buddies up at Baudelaire only deal
with George.
The aforementioned law stipulates (which
is not the same as stippling that artists do with
sponges like me) that only sponges over 5" in diameter
can be harvested. And they must be cut with a knife so
they can regenerate. In fact, he’s lobbying to increase
the minimum size to 6" to keep the beds from being
over harvested and ensure a better selection for the future.
George knows from
sponges. In
fact he knows us so well he can often determine the water
depth and the general area we came from just by looking at
us and studying our density and composition.
So
how did this guy get to know me and my people so well? His
family has been in the sponge business for four generations.
In fact he started sorting sponges
when he was only ten.
His great grandfather Michael was processing
sponges on the coast of Greece in the late 1800s. When
some Florida businessmen realized the potential of the
rich sponge beds in the Gulf of Mexico they asked a bunch
of Michael’s in-laws (some of whom, it appears, may
also have been outlaws?) to come over and start harvesting
them. They, in turn, brought over George’s father
and his brothers to work as processors–and the family’s
been in the center of the Tarpon Springs sponge trade ever
since.
George
and his crew mostly process elegant soft Wool
sponges and Grass sponges–for those who like a little
more scrubbing power.
The other type of
sponge you should know about is the Silk. They’re small
and really fancy–"cosmetic facial sponges",
people call them. And they come only from the Mediterranean.
Well, thanks for taking time to learn
about me and my people. It’s ok if you can’t
remember all the details. But don’t forget my motto: "Buy
Sponges. Don’t Be One!" |
