CAYMAN ISLANDS (13 Nov 2003) -- For relaxing, warm-water scuba diving with little current, nearly unlimited visibility and plenty of critter antics, the Cayman Islands are tough to beat. Swim a little way off the beach or dive from a boat and encounter coral-and-sponge jungles teeming with fishy residents. Swim out deeper to the edge of coral walls and you might see really big creatures passing by in the midnight-blue depths. All put on a show, whether they mean to or not. Underwater photographer Maggie Martorell and I recently dived with marine artist Guy Harvey, a four-year Grand Cayman resident, on one of his favorite reefs known as Tarpon Alley. This spur-and-groove formation got its name from a particular cut that is home to as many as 100 juvenile tarpon -- most in the 10- to 15-pound range. We swam right up to them, around them and through their ranks as they hovered motionless, and they never scattered. Some would move a couple of feet in one direction or the other when we got close, but not one fled the area. We couldn't really figure out what the tarpon were doing there. We didn't see any of them chasing the abundant small tropicals and snappers buzzing around the reef. And they certainly weren't large enough to spawn. The tarpon seemed glued to the spot, even though the bottom was carved with other, similar spur-and-groove formations. Harvey, a marine biologist, said it looked to him like they were just hanging out. As we swam around admiring the tarpon, we also spotted a small cubera snapper, a nervous permit and a hawksbill turtle. Harvey said he likes to hover on the edge of the coral wall, which drops off to a seemingly bottomless canyon. ''Sometimes you'll see a wahoo, kingfish or hammerhead come by,'' he said. Later that day, Martorell and I dived with the crew from DiveTech -- a dive shop and charter boat. At Eagle Ray Pass, a cut in a coral wall that drops from 60 feet to 6,000 feet, Martorell came face-to-face with one of the spotted creatures for which the dive site is named. It glared at her but kept going. On the next dive, a spot called Gail's Mountain, we encountered four eagle rays flapping along in a loose formation on the edge of the wall. They allowed us to trail them for a while, but sped up when our bubbles (and our mere presence) began to get on their nerves. The next day, Martorell and I traveled to Little Cayman Island to dive the famed Bloody Bay Wall. This wall (named for a pirate massacre at the hands of British soldiers in the late 1600s) has achieved international popularity with scuba divers for its spectacular drop-off. One minute you're swimming 20 feet deep among star coral formations, then you move 50 feet to one side and you're peering down over cascading sponges into a 6,000-foot abyss. | | But what we liked best about the site was an unusual grouper encounter that took place on the reef in 20 feet of water. The reef is home to several Nassau groupers, including one very friendly fish nicknamed ''Jerry'' by Peter Hillenbrand, the owner of the Southern Cross Club. Hillenbrand told us if we encountered Jerry, we could pet him gently and that Jerry would ask us to help him catch lunch. ''He'll go over to a coral head and stay there, like he's pointing to it,'' Hillenbrand said. ``Nine times out of 10, there's a squirrelfish hiding in there and he wants you to flush it out.'' Martorell and I fervently hoped we'd be able to help Jerry get lunch. Instead, we witnessed high drama akin to the showdown in the popular Western flick High Noon. Kicking along the clear, shallow reef, we noticed a friendly Nassau had begun tagging along. When the fish hovered around Hillenbrand and allowed him to stroke its back, we realized -- happily -- that it had to be Jerry. But suddenly Jerry's relaxed demeanor changed to one of tense skittishness. That's when we noticed another Nassau grouper approaching. We humans got out of the way as the groupers swam closer to one another. When they were practically nose-to-nose, each turned over on its side in a slow ballet. Jerry's brown-and-white skin faded to pale white. He opened his mouth, baring his small teeth. Both fish tipped over on their sides once more, parallel to each other. Jerry stayed put while the other grouper swam away. Jerry then went over to a coral head and pointed out a hidden squirrelfish, ignoring other free-swimming squirrelfish in the vicinity. I wanted to help him out, but had nothing to use as a prying tool. And I was puzzled at his nonsensical feeding behavior. I couldn't wait to ask Hillenbrand about it when we got back on the boat. ''What were the groupers doing? Were they spawning?'' one of the divers demanded. ''Nope,'' Hillenbrand said. ``What you just saw was a grouper fight. Jerry was telling the other grouper to get out of his territory. I think the whole thing shook him up, and that's why he didn't care much about eating.'' So that explained it. High Noon underwater with mottled fish behaving like gunslingers.
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