Last night I resisted diel vertical migration. As the biomass around me heaved into soft clothes and toward their comfy beds, I resisted. I kept my coat on inside, and maintained a piping hot cup of tea next to me. At first you feel left out, like the pull of the night is drawing you down too, but if you can get to the other side of that influence, you unlock a surreal period of time that sharpens your senses and extends time infinitely.
I didn’t even see the sun come up. Sue came over and took away my cold tea cup. Fabio came out in his flannels with his hair sticking up and sleepy eyes blinking. The dogs wanted their breakfast. I looked down at my work and realized, it wasn’t the best or the worst thing I had ever done, but somewhere in the night I had plowed through the heavy cycle I was caught up in and got to be alone and still.
This is a diagram (emphasis added) from a Zooplankton Acoustic Profiler, showing my position relative to the diurnal migration. Again, not to scale.
