Schools of fish are fascinating and beautiful to watch. Certain kinds of fish have an instinct to school, but it's not entirely effortless. Changes of light affect their ability to school, so vision is involved. But the most interesting aspect, to me, is something called the lateral line -- a sensitive area on the sides of the fish that allow them to detect heat and pressure changes from their neighbors, giving them a constant read on their position in the group. This is how the movements of a school can be so quick, with all of the fish reacting instantaneously.
The individuals within the school have two competing needs: to be on the inside of the school, where they are the most protected from predators; and to be on the outside, where there is more oxygen available. And so they weave in and out as they swim, pursuing their own goals, but with an overarching awareness of the group they are a part of and their role within it.
I always wanted to be a fish like that: getting air, getting comfort, never straying too far. But I'm usually halfway across the ocean before I notice I've gotten out of synch. By that time it's generally best to just swim on. And I've found that if you go for long enough, you always find your way back into one school or another.
I always wanted to be a fish like that: getting air, getting comfort, never straying too far. But I'm usually halfway across the ocean before I notice I've gotten out of synch. By that time it's generally best to just swim on. And I've found that if you go for long enough, you always find your way back into one school or another.
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