Octopuses are going to kill us all someday
I had a biology teacher that told us this story about an octopus at an aquarium in Australia. The staff were concerned because their population of crustaceans kept disappearing. No bodies or anything. So they checked the video feed to find out what’s up.
Across from the the crustacean tank was a small octopus tank. This little fucker squeezed out of a tiny hole at the top of his tank, walk across the hall, and get into the crustacean tank. He would then hunt and eat. After he was done, he crawled back out and get back in his tank
Here’s the kicker: security guards patrolled the area. The staff realized that the octopus had memorized the security’s routine. It would escape and be back between the guards’ round.
My friend who worked at Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha, Nebraska had a similar story. Rare fish were disappearing, they suspected theft, and so set up a camera. An octopus was unlocking the top of its tank, walking across the suspended walkway, unlocking the other tank, eating his fill, re-locking the other tank, then re-locking its own tank.
I can’t remember what zoo this happened at, but there was another octopus somewhere who was unscrewing a water valve in the room where its tank was located and routinely flooding the place. The staffers had no idea what it was until they filmed the octopus caught in the act.
RELEASE THE KRAKEN!! But, sir, it has already released itself!
Octopus Steals Video Camera, Films Own Escape
Octopus Escapes from Tank to Prowl on its Neighbors
Octopus Escape — 600-pound (272-kilogram) octopus wriggles through a passageway the size of a quarter
Legging It: Evasive Octopus Has Been Allowed to Look for Love
My dad worked in a lab and one of the rooms had a tank with an octopus in it. If they didn’t go play with the octopus he got bored and would climb out of his tank and steal the paperwork off the desks, and drag stuff into his tank to let the scientists know he was upset with them.
Octopus urban legends.
Davy Jones is the real deal
When I was a kid, there was a camp we went to on a nearby island that had a small lab with a touch tank, about 10 feet by 20 feet. There were anemones, sea stars, sea urchins, sea cucumbers, a spiny rock lobster. In a separate enclosed tank in the middle of the big open touch tank lived Olivia, the octopus. Olivia was skilled at getting out of her smaller tank and helping herself to the various other creatures in the touch tank, and lobster was her favorite meal (the poor thing was already missing a few legs and an antennae from previous snack runs of hers). The staff had sealed up her tank well enough that she couldn’t get out anymore, but when we were there one afternoon, they took her out to let us look at her and touch her, and she somehow slithered out of everyone’s grasp and got free in the touch tank. The first thing she did was make a beeline for that lobster, which made a heroic but futile attempt to get away. She grabbed it around the face and latched on. The lobster immediately started flicking its tail, still trying to get away, showering the now-hysterically-shrieking pack of 8-year-old girls with water. The staff went after Olivia and she darted around the tank, dragging the lobster with her, sending urchins and sea stars scattering, drenching everyone, and having a grand old time. When they finally caught her, she had such a good hold on the lobster that they couldn’t pry her off without hurting her, so Olivia got to have a nice luncheon of fresh lobster tail, and we all got to go on a night dive later to look for a new lobster.