Glam Rocks

You don’t have to visit tropical climes to see Britain’s tompot with an enormous personality.

- Paul Naylor

A small fish with a punk hairdo peers out from his crevice on the reef, taking in the view of sponges and sea anemones. Bright red tentacles on his head sway gently in the swell and these, together with large, high-set eyes and thick lips, give him quite a comical appearance from our perspective.

Yet his looks belie his feisty nature. For this little tompot blenny – the species is usually under 20cm long – has defended his territory against intruders for three years now. The battles have left him scarred around the mouth, but that doesn’t seem to deter the females that enter his home to lay their eggs, which he then tends with devotion until they hatch.

From his home the blenny can see other species of fish on the reef build imposing nests of pink seaweed, change colour to greet their partners or lurk with the intention of stealing his conscientiously guarded eggs. Where is this vibrant underwater world? The Mediterranean, the Caribbean or the Great Barrier Reef, perhaps? No, it’s Devon in south-west England, within a stone’s throw of the beach. In fact the top of a reef like this almost breaks the surface on the lowest tides, so snorkellers as well as divers can enjoy its wonderfully rich marine life.

The charismatic tompot blenny is a common species around most British and continental European coasts, mainly in water 1–12m deep, where it eats a variety of seabed invertebrates – including the anemones avoided by most predators – and grazes seaweed too. Ever since I started to dive and snorkel over the shallow rocky reefs near my home just outside Plymouth in 1980, I’ve been intrigued by the assertiveness and antics of the tompots.