Sometimes, when I’m driving in the dark, my headlamps light up an insect caught in the beam. My thoughts invariably drift to a book I read a while ago, called The Moth Snowstorm: Nature and Joy by Michael McCarthy.
The author uses the abundance of moths in his 1950s childhood as a metaphor for nature’s decline, as he recalls that: “There were so many moths that they would pack the beams of car headlights like snowflakes in a blizzard.” Today, you’d be lucky to come across ten in a kilometre of driving.
Biodiversity loss − the extinction of hundreds of types of living organisms − is today overwhelmingly accepted as a real, global-scale crisis. But this article isn’t about gloom and doom; it’s about sharing the sense of joy that nature watching brings, and a firm belief that this joy is worth defending.

My theory why nature is vanishing unnoticed by many (dare I say ‘most’?) is that their sense of wonder at nature has never been kindled. Here, I delve into the world of snorkelling as an invitation to kindling that fire.
Why snorkel?
Our coasts are full of marine life, big and small, showy and skulking, colourful and camouflaged. In this sweltering heat, what better place to plunge into the joys of nature watching than the cool sea?
Having a snorkel-ready beach within easy reach is quite a uniquely Maltese way of being in nature. Nature watching in Malta is often compromised by our small size and overpopulation, making us prime targets for the “loss of experience” phenomenon that drives urbanites to be indifferent to nature’s loss.

Where and when?
Rocky shores are best for wildlife encounters: their nooks and crannies are great for a variety of creatures. Rocks have shelves, crevices, faces, surfaces and in-between spaces that provide home or hunting grounds for different species. Sandy shores, on the other hand, harbour animals that bury themselves in sand but these can attract larger predators that snuffle over the bottom to dig them out.
Water clarity will make a difference to your snorkelling experience, so check the wind direction before you head out: bays on the west side work better for days with easterly winds, and vice versa. Have a few favourites that will allow you to be spontaneous with your snorkelling destination.
What to expect
An early start to the summer season will better your chances of meeting animals during their breeding season, which normally makes them easier to see.
During June and early July watch out for blennies: colourful, small fish that live and breed in small rock holes. Spend time watching their antics as males in breeding livery defend their spot from rivals and invite females to spawn in their chosen holes.

Scratch a spot on a rock with your finger and wait for an assortment of curious fishes to check if you’ve unearthed an interesting shell. The peacock wrasse is likley to be the first on the scene, as you could well have chosen a male’s stomping grounds. Admire its tropical blues and greens as it defends its rocky castle.
Shoals of black damselfish may not dazzle with colour, but they have a feeding trick that could best any vacuum cleaner. These plankton eaters can extend their jaw like a pipette to suck in plankton-filled water. Approach slowly and these gentle fish will surround you, with curious individuals approaching for closer inspection.

Rock-scuttling animals are hard to miss. A shore crab startled by your presence will flatten itself into a crevice, its mottled green colour instantly camouflaging it against alga-dotted rock.
Using a different tactic, tiny hermit crabs snuggle into an empty snail shell, lugging it around as they feed on algae and detritus. Move too fast and the crab will retreat into its safe zone. But wait quietly a few seconds and the bright orange-red feelers slowly emerge, followed by dark green legs and typical clumsy shuffle over rock and pebble.

Your nature journey
Once you get into the habit of really looking, you’ll start to notice things you never imagined could be so absorbing. The sense of calm and connection it brings can be surprisingly deep. My invitation to you and your family is simple: pop down to a shore, watch, wonder and share.
Start making memories on the right side of nature − this may well be our most potent tool to save it.