Patrick Seligman met an odd buddy while diving along a coral off the coast of Hawaii.
A bright shrimp — a Pacific cleaner shrimp, to be precise — was snuggled comfortably in the nook of a rock. Seligman caught her sight as he approached.
“They’re really prevalent in Hawaii’s reefs,” Seligman told The Dodo, “but not all of them are eager to engage with humans.”
This shrimp, on the other hand, was. Then there’s more.
Cleaner shrimp are so named for their eagerness to nibble parasites and dead skin off of other animals who come to their undersea “cleaning stations.” In fact, the day Seligman first arrived, the shrimp had just finished up with a client: a visiting eel.
Lucky for Seligman, the shrimp evidently had a free slot in her schedule for him after that.
Seligman opened his mouth after removing his breathing device, and the small shrimp swam straight in.
Her intended victim? His molars.
This wouldn’t be a one-time affair, as incredible as it was.
Whenever Seligman went diving near that site in the weeks and months that followed, he’d stop in for a cleaning from the same friendly little dental hygienist.
He’d occasionally bring along friends to have their teeth cleaned as well.
These regular visits lasted for about a year — throughout which Seligman’s teeth had never been healthier.
“I think frequent visits to your local cleaner shrimp are an excellent way to maintain your dental hygiene,” he said.
Sadly, though, it couldn’t last forever.
Following a particularly heavy storm, Seligman returned to his friend’s cleaning station only to discover she had vanished, most likely to start her cleaning profession somewhere on the reef.
Seligman’s cleaning ritual appears to have ended, but his affection for the shrimp, wherever she may be, has not.
Seligman stated, “[She] definitely feels like a familiar friend.” “Taking advantage of a naturally occurring symbiotic connection is also entertaining.”
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