Flatfish with a distinctive greenish-brown upper side. The underside is pure white. This is a fish that disappears into the sand. It lies buried with only its eyes showing. It waits for small crustaceans to drift within striking distance. Both eyes are on the right side of its head. This is a feature of all flounders. The Māori name Paatiki is also used for several other flatfish species found in New Zealand waters. A fish that shares its name with its cousins. The identity is communal. The distinction is subtle.
The body is flattened and oval-shaped. Both eyes sit on the right side. The upper side is greenish-brown. It is mottled with darker spots. The underside is pure white. The mouth is small. Fine teeth line the jaw. The fins are dusky. A fish that is two different colours. The camouflage is effective. The contrast is stark. One side hides. The other blends. Evolution favours the unseen.
Days are spent buried in the sand. Only the eyes and the tip of the tail are exposed. Breathing happens by drawing water in through the mouth. It is expelled through the gills. The fish can remain buried for hours. It waits for prey. A fish that has learned to be patient. Stillness is the strategy. Movement is the exception. The wait is long. The reward is immediate.
At high tide, it emerges to feed. It lies flat on the seafloor. It waits for small crustaceans to drift within striking distance. When prey passes, it lunges upward. It captures the food in its mouth. A fish that does not chase. The energy cost is low. The success rate is high. The ambush is precise. The hunger is satisfied. The cycle repeats.
It is a popular target for recreational fishers. They fish from beaches and wharves. It is caught on baited hooks. Often this happens by accident while fishing for other species. The catch is unexpected. The surprise is pleasant. The flesh is sweet. The effort is minimal. The value is recognised.
To see one is to see a flatfish of the sandy bays. It lies buried in the sand. It is invisible to anyone passing by. It is the ghost of the sandy bottom. It waits for its next meal. The presence is hidden. The absence is total. The detection is difficult. The observation is rare.
The sand is still. The
flounder waits, eyes just visible, greenish-brown against the grains. The shadow passes. The flounder does not move. It has been waiting for hours. It can wait a little longer. The patience is innate. The instinct is strong. The survival depends on it. The flounder carries on. Unseen. Unvalued by the casual observer. But prized by those who know. It remains in the shallows. A testament to the intact bay. A relic of the wild sand. It waits for dinner.