Octomom

The episode begins with host Latif Nasser introducing a story about perseverance and focus: a deep-sea octopus apparently fighting for the future of her offspring. Annie McEwen reports on Bruce Robison, a deep-sea explorer at the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute. In April 2007, Robison and his team were aboard the research ship Western Flyer, exploring the Monterey Canyon, an underwater canyon roughly comparable in scale to Arizona’s Grand Canyon. They lowered a remotely operated submarine nearly a mile below the surface—roughly the height of several Empire State Buildings—into darkness filled with bioluminescent flashes, squeaks, thumps, and other sounds. In the robot’s headlight, they saw a purplish-gray octopus moving toward a rock. She had a crescent-shaped scar on one arm and another circular scar; her mantle was about the size of a healthy cantaloupe, with tentacles roughly a foot and a half long. When the team returned about a month later, the octopus was sitting on a clutch of approximately 160 jelly-bean-sized eggs. Because so little was known about the brooding period of deep-sea octopuses, the researchers began calling her “Octomom” and decided to keep checking on her whenever their schedule allowed.

On repeated visits, the researchers found Octomom in the same position, her body covering the eggs and her arms curled around them. She cleaned the eggs, protected them from crabs and shrimp, and appeared to keep every one of the roughly 160 eggs intact. The team could see developing baby octopuses inside the egg cases, but they did not know how long the process would take because the deep-sea species might behave differently from the shallow-water octopuses studied by scientists. After about six months, Octomom had become noticeably pale and thin, and her eyes were growing cloudy. Evolutionary neuroscientist Jan Wong explained that octopuses generally do not eat while brooding; after reproducing, the female’s body enters a final phase that ends in death. Wong’s research concerned reproduction and death in octopuses, including shallow-water species that often live only about a year. Simon Gurney, author of The Soul of an Octopus, recalled seeing a more romantic side of octopus mating at the Seattle Aquarium, where a male and female turned red, embraced with their suckers, and later turned white—the color of a relaxed octopus. But for Octomom, mating and fertilization had begun an irreversible process: once she laid the eggs, she would remain with them until they hatched, then die.

The researchers’ visits were opportunistic rather than scheduled. They were usually at sea for other projects and used spare dive time to check on Octomom. During the first year, they tried to help by using the robot’s manipulator arms to break off crab legs and offer them to her. She refused the food, confirming that she was not simply waiting for a meal but continuing to starve while guarding the eggs. During the second year, the team saw three or four crabs circling her as if preparing to attack. The scientists could not remain at the site indefinitely because they had other research on their agenda, so they left at the beginning of a week-long trip, worrying about what would happen. When they returned, Octomom was still on the rock, but the crabs were gone and crab parts littered the seafloor beneath her. Robison concluded that, despite her weakened condition, she had torn the crabs apart with her arms. The researchers celebrated from the control room, while also recognizing the larger danger: Octomom had to maintain her grip until the eggs hatched. If she drifted away, crabs could consume the clutch. The egg count remained 160, with no evidence that any had been eaten.

Octomom’s brooding period continued far beyond anything the researchers expected. The episode marks the passing years with events happening above the water: in 2007, the first iPhone went on sale in the United States and Boris Yeltsin died; in 2008, the economy crashed and Barack Obama was elected; in 2009, Usain Bolt set a 100-meter world record and Michael Jackson died; in 2010, Chilean miners were rescued after 69 days and Haiti suffered a devastating earthquake; and in 2011, the Arab Spring began, same-sex marriage became legal in New York, and Amy Winehouse, Steve Jobs, and Osama bin Laden died. Throughout all of this, Octomom remained on the rock, growing paler, thinner, and more deteriorated while continuing to clean and defend the eggs. Robison and Wong offered possible explanations for the extraordinary duration: the extreme cold of the deep sea might slow development, or the babies might need to be unusually developed before entering such a harsh environment. But they emphasized that it remained a mystery whether Octomom’s behavior was typical for her species or an exceptional case, because she was the only individual of that species anyone had observed in this way.

Wong explains Octomom’s survival using an orchestra metaphor. In an ordinary octopus, different parts of the nervous system work together like sections of an orchestra: some manage vision, movement, heartbeat, memory, and other functions. After the female lays her eggs, most of that orchestra begins to quiet as ordinary bodily processes shut down. One small pair of structures—the optic glands, each roughly the size of a grain of rice—becomes unusually important, playing what Wong describes as a complicated chemical “solo.” The optic glands trigger chemicals including steroids and insulin that allow the octopus to remain alive without taking in additional food. Externally, Octomom looked like an extremely old animal, with pale skin, cloudy eyes, and flabby muscles. Internally, however, she remained focused on the single remaining task of guarding the eggs. Robison said he thought about her constantly while doing ordinary activities such as shopping, bicycling, or cleaning his car: she was always in the darkness, continuing her work as a mother. The episode notes that the four-and-a-half-year brooding period became the longest known brooding period for any species on Earth. The scientists still did not know the exact chemistry of the optic glands, only that this system enabled her final, prolonged effort.

After four and a half years, the researchers returned to Octomom’s rock and found that she was gone. In the place where she had been, they saw tattered egg cases. Their first concern was whether the babies had survived or whether crabs had destroyed them. After searching the rock, they began finding small octopuses crawling around and feeding. The hatchlings were much smaller than their mother, but they were clearly members of the same species and appeared to have come from her clutch. They never witnessed the exact moment of hatching and never saw Octomom again. Robison believed a scavenger had consumed her, as happens to octopus mothers after reproduction. He suspected that she stayed until the final egg hatched, sensing the new activity beneath her body and recognizing that it was finally time to let go. The hosts compare this to handing off the “baton of life.” In the closing discussion, the speakers connect the story to the feeling of holding on, waiting, and protecting one’s own “jelly beans.” Annie McEwen also complicates the heroic framing: Octomom’s actual experience was not a triumphant story but four and a half years alone in darkness, starving and slowly dying. The gap between the human story—devotion, courage, and purpose—and the animal’s unknowable experience becomes the episode’s final point.