A squid the length of a bus. Not the small squid that flash through the shallows – the ones you see in aquariums. A squid with tentacles as long as a house, eyes as big as your head, a beak that could snap a rope in two. That was the giant deepwater squid, and it was the abyss ghost of the deep.
It lived in the dark abyss, where the pressure is crushing and the light never reaches. It was never seen alive by human eyes. We know it only from fragments – a beak in a whale's stomach, a tentacle in a trawl net, a few suckers preserved in a jar. It was the ghost of the deep, a creature that existed on the edge of our knowledge.
It was a relative of the famous giant squid (Architeuthis dux) found in oceans around the world. But our New Zealand species was different – larger, more robust, with a different pattern of suckers on its tentacles. It was an endemic, found nowhere else on Earth.
It hunted in the dark. The giant deepwater squid was a predator of the abyss, feeding on deep-sea fish, other squid, and perhaps even small whales. It used its massive eyes to spot prey in the dim light of the deep, its tentacles to grab and hold, its beak to crush and tear. It was also prey. Sperm whales hunted it, leaving circular sucker scars on their skin. The squid and the whale were locked in an ancient dance – predator and prey, each shaping the other.
Deep-sea trawling and ocean change destroyed it. In the late 19th century, fishermen began trawling the deep waters around New Zealand for commercial fish. Bottom trawls destroyed the deep-sea habitat. The giant deepwater squid was caught as bycatch – but its soft body was fragile, and most specimens were destroyed before they reached the surface. At the same time, the ocean was changing. Currents shifted. The deep sea warmed. The prey that the squid depended on moved or died. It could not adapt.
By the early 1900s, it was gone. The last fragments were collected by a naturalist who had no idea he was holding the last evidence of a species. He preserved them, labelled them, put them in a drawer. And the abyss fell silent.
The smaller squid survived. The
arrow squid, the
octopus squid, the firefly squid – they are still common in our waters. But they are not the giant. Not the abyss ghost. Not the one that wrestled with whales in the dark.
We have its beak, its tentacle fragments, its sucker scars on the skin of whales. But we have no photograph, no film, no record of its life. It swam in the dark for millions of years. And then it was gone.