The hunt begins...

I accompanied Optometrist and researcher Philip Turnbull on a fishing trip with a difference. With buckets and nets in hand we ventured to a popular fishing spot in the northern suburbs of Auckland city. Dressed head-to-toe in a wet suit, I came to realise that this wasn't the type of fishing where you lie back on the beach with a beer in hand. In fact, the suspicious absence of any fishing rods led me to suspect that we were weren't really fishing at all.

Rather, we were 'fishing' for squid eggs. We clambered around a rocky overhang that followed the curvature of Auckland's North Shore, struggling not to fall on the slippery rocks whilst our eyes scanned the water for a glimpse of our prey.

The species 'Sepioteuthis Australis' commonly frequents the waters around the Northern coast of New Zealand. During the summer months, the females venture towards the shore where they lay a cluster of eggs around low-lying rocky overhangs such as the one we were precariously balancing on.

I found it difficult to imagine what we looking for until we found it. And that didn't take long. From my warm and dry vantage point, I watched him flouncing about in the water after a white, almost translucent, mass floating in the waves. They reminded of the white, blobby intestine's of the alien creature that Luke Skywalker lasered open to provide warmth in the snow. Or for non-Star Wars' fans, slimey white bean pods.

The female squid usually tie the egg mass onto a branch of seaweed to secure it in place. How the squid physically does this in the rough waves is beyond my imagination, but probably eight arms are better than ten fingers. However, our catch of the day (our one and only as it turned out) was floating freely in the water. Possibly this was a sign that something was wrong, but the eggs appeared in good health, so we collected them in a bucket of seawater. Phil estimated a couple of hundred squid embryos were contained within their capsules, but pointed out that with Mother Nature's harsh rule, few would survive to adulthood.

During the rest of our trip, I was exposed the other challenges that Phil faces on his regular squid hunting trips. We climbed apologetically under the fishing rods of other fisherman, as they stared on in amazement, and eventually came to enquire what we were doing. With as much dignity as he could manage in a wet suit, Phil explained that he was a researcher from the University of Auckland, and was using squid to study why children get myopia. His enquirers were fascinated with his catch and did not press him for details.

What's more, I have to hope that Phil never embarks on these fishing trips alone. Even the most adept surf life saver could struggle in the rough waves juxtaposed to the jagged rocks if the tides turned against him, literally. More than once, Phil lost his footing and I momentarily wondered if I'd have to attempt a rescue.

Eventually we called it a day, and we hauled the heavy buckets into the car for their journey back to the university, where they would live out the rest of their embryonic days in a specialised 'squid tank'. I'm sure I'll hear more about that another day.

But now I'm hungry. Fish and chips for dinner!