A message pinged on to my phone – a photo from a friend out walking her dog. Her whippet, head cocked and nose quivering, was investigating a strange object that had washed up on the beach. Later, curiosity got the better of me and, though it was raining heavily, I went down to the shore to see for myself.
The blue drum lay stranded in a fresh seam of shingle, surrounded by storm-tossed debris – cuttlebones, wrack, and a profusion of single-use plastics. But what immediately drew the eye was the living cargo spilling over its sides – a dense aggregation of common goose barnacles (Lepas anatifera), castaways which, as larvae, cling to whatever floats past them – from driftwood and buoys to ship hulls and turtles.
Their journeys are dictated by the drift of currents and the push and pull of the wind. Who knows how long this barrel’s occupants had wandered before arriving here? Though most abundant in tropical and subtropical waters, the species’ geographical range reaches as far north as Britain’s south-west coast, yet they remain a rarity here in Hampshire.
Seen up close, it was easy to understand why people once believed that barnacle geese hatched from these pelagic crustaceans. Each barnacle ends in a capitulum – a pallid, heart-shaped shell reminiscent of the barnacle goose’s creamy-white face.
Ranging in size from 1cm to 8cm, they are composed of five faintly striated calcareous plates, edged with orange tissue, and hinge open like a bird’s bill to allow the cirri – delicate, feathered, tentacle-like feeding appendages – to unfurl. Supporting this “head” is a long, flexible, fleshy stalk called a peduncle, elegantly arched like a goose’s neck. Swaying together, they mimic the bobbing heads of a grazing flock.
Most barnacles won’t survive a stranding. A few still fluttered their cirri, as though sweeping for plankton in the briny air, but most had already closed their shells to try to conserve moisture. By the afternoon, they hung limply on their darkening penduncles. They can survive for several days out of water, but with the waves subdued and a team of good Samaritans unable to shift the weighty barrel back into the sea, their fate seemed sealed.
• Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024 is published by Guardian Faber; order at guardianbookshop.com and get a 15% discount
