For them, the darkness below is not an abyss.
It is habitat.
Why the Red Devils Were So Feared
The Humboldt squid’s reputation is not based solely on its appearance.
These animals are formidable hunters.
National Geographic has reported observations of their dramatic color changes and cannibalistic behavior. Experiments associated with a 2009 expedition also demonstrated the remarkable power of the Humboldt squid’s beak: one squid damaged bite-testing material made with Kevlar.
Their hunting equipment is concentrated around a remarkably effective body plan.
Two long feeding tentacles can shoot outward toward prey. Eight shorter arms help seize and manipulate what has been captured. The beak sits where those arms converge.
A fish pulled into that structure has little chance of escaping.
Now imagine a diver entering a feeding aggregation at night.
That does not mean the squid automatically identifies the diver as prey. In fact, observations of Humboldt squid suggest their behavior toward humans is more complicated than their “Red Devil” nickname implies.
But being investigated by an animal equipped to seize prey can still be dangerous.
Especially when several squid are present.
Other Divers Discovered How Powerful They Could Be
Cranston was not the only underwater cameraman to have close encounters with Humboldt squid.
Explorer and cinematographer Scott Cassell has described far more violent experiences.
In one widely reported account, Cassell entered the Sea of Cortez and encountered several Humboldt squid within minutes. According to his account, squid struck his camera, grabbed him and pulled him downward rapidly enough that he suffered pressure-related injury to an eardrum. He also described a dislocated shoulder during the encounter.
Cassell’s experiences became part of the legend surrounding the species.
But they also demonstrate an important distinction.
A squid does not need to “want to kill” a human to create a dangerous situation.
An animal simply grabbing equipment or pulling on a diver can become hazardous underwater.
A diver who is suddenly dragged downward faces changing pressure.
Equipment can become displaced.
Orientation can be lost.
A mask, breathing regulator, hose or camera can become a point of contact.
At depth, a relatively brief encounter can therefore become serious very quickly.
Another diver, Roger Uzun, offered a strikingly different perspective after swimming among Humboldt squid: he characterized their behavior as more curious than aggressive when they were not feeding.
Researchers and experienced divers have likewise questioned whether the species’ reputation as a relentless human attacker is exaggerated.
Cranston himself later acknowledged that nature television could amplify the danger surrounding Humboldt squid.
“There’s a lot of hype,” he told Outside in an article examining the squid’s fearsome reputation.
And that makes the real story much more interesting.
Were They Attacking—or Investigating?
Consider what Cranston described.
A squid approaches.
It grabs.
It pulls.
The diver resists.
The squid releases him.
If the sole objective were predation, why stop?
That question has helped transform the Humboldt squid from a supposed sea monster into a subject of serious behavioral research.
Cephalopods are extraordinary animals.
Octopuses, cuttlefish and squid possess complex nervous systems and sensory abilities that evolved along a path very different from vertebrates.
Humboldt squid also appear capable of sophisticated visual signaling.
Their rapidly changing body patterns are not merely spectacular decoration. Scientists have investigated how these signals may help squid communicate while hunting and interacting with one another.
Imagine a large group of predators hunting in darkness.
Each animal is moving quickly.
Each is armed with tentacles capable of capturing prey.
Collisions or mistaken attacks could be costly.