The Soul of an Octopus: A Surprising Exploration into the Wonder of Consciousness

When Montgomery returns from her diving trip, the problem of where to put Kali becomes more pressing. She’s nearly as big as Octavia now and has outgrown her small tank. In order to let a sick fish recuperate in her tank, she’s temporarily moved to a larger one with a different water source and other fish, providing interaction with other animals. Montgomery explains that little is known about how octopuses relate to other sea creatures aside from hunting or being hunted. One thing is for certain: They can ascertain much information from their suckers alone, as their chemoreceptors have a range of 30 yards or more: “Perhaps,” Montgomery surmises, “Kali knows her tank mates’ species, their sex, their health” (156).

During one of her dives in the Caribbean, she saw some octopus behavior that she could not explain. An octopus had about a dozen crabs—its favorite food—on the sand in front of it, sort of collecting them in one area. If one wandered too far away, an arm would extend to gently corral it back. The crabs acted calmly, as if they sensed no danger. Furthermore, the octopus was a white color, also indicating a state of calm, rather than the red one would expect to see when it hunted.