Bigfin Squid Sighting Off Gozo: Indian Ocean Alien Shocks Malta’s Fishermen and Scientists

Alien of the Deep: First Bigfin Squid Sighted Off Gozo, Sending Shockwaves Through Malta’s Fishing Community

By Hot Malta Correspondent

A creature straight out of science fiction has slipped into Malta’s azure backyard. Last Tuesday, at 03:17 a.m., Gozo Channel fisherman Darren “Dudu” Saliba felt his nylon long-line go piano-wire tense. Expecting a dentex or maybe a rogue swordfish, the 42-year-old from Xlendi instead hauled up something with tentacles longer than the traditional luzzu is wide—an intact juvenile Bigfin squid, a species never before recorded in the central Mediterranean.

“I thought it was a plastic bag full of spaghetti,” Saliba laughs, still shaken on the quay at Mġarr. “Then the floodlight hit the eyes. Jet black, like a man’s thumb. It stared straight through me.”

Within minutes, Saliba’s WhatsApp exploded. Video of the rust-coloured cephalopod—its elbow-like fin joints bending like a knight’s armour—ping-ponged from Marsaxlokk tuna pens to Valletta market stalls. By dawn, biologists at the University of Malta had commandeered the specimen, now chilling in a -80 °C freezer next to pastizzi intended for a student fundraiser.

A Tropical Gate-Crasher

Native to the bathyal zones of the Indian and Pacific Oceans, Magnapinna, or Bigfin squid, normally haunts depths of 2,000–4,700 m. Seeing one in Malta’s 200-m shelf waters is “akin to spotting a polar bear pacing Republic Street,” says Dr. Noel Aquilina, marine ecologist. The last Mediterranean record was a blurry ROV clip off Sicily in 2020; never has a complete animal been landed here.

Preliminary DNA bar-coding confirms Indian Ocean lineage, fuelling speculation that rising surface temperatures and the newly deepened Suez Canal have conspired to open a “thermal corridor” straight to the Maltese Islands. “Climate change is rewriting the Mediterranean guest list,” Aquilina warns. “And not all visitors will be as harmless as this 38-cm juvenile.”

Cultural Ripples: From Lampuki to Luzzu Lore

Malta’s relationship with the sea is older than the Ġgantija temples. Octopus and squid ink flavour everything from stuffat tal-qarnit to Friday’s kiosk sandwiches. Elderly fishermen still cross themselves at the mention of “il-qarnita tal-infern,” a mythical horned squid said to drag sinners to the bottom. Saliba’s catch, with its metre-long filamentous arms, has reignited those bedtime stories.

At the Xlendi parish club, 83-year-old Toni “il-Baħri” Zammit swears the last sighting preceded the 1948 Gozo ferry disaster. “These things are messengers,” he whispers, knuckles white on his walking stick. “The sea is angry.” Younger locals are less superstitious but equally stirred. Children now scour the rocks hoping for tentacle souvenirs, while a Gozitan tattooist reports five bookings for Bigfin ink in 48 hours.

Economic Undercurrents

Tourism operators smell opportunity. “We’re designing a night-snorkel ‘Squid Search’ package,” reveals Isabelle Camilleri, who runs eco-trips from Sliema. “Responsible, of course—no touching, just red-filter lights.” Scientists urge caution; luring tourists with invasive species can backfire, as happened with Malta’s jellyfish blooms in 2019.

Meanwhile, fish-market prices wobbled. Squid rings dropped 20 cents per kilo after Facebook rumours claimed “alien poison”. The Fisheries Control Directorate issued rapid assurances, but fishermen fear a steeper slump if more Bigfins appear and diners lose appetite.

Science Rushes In

The UM’s Department of Biology has already dispatched two trawlers armed with 4K baited cameras. “We need to know if this is a lone vagrant or the advance guard,” explains Masters student Leanne Ellul, who will spend the next month analysing plankton samples for microscopic eggs. Results could shape EU conservation policy; Malta currently holds the rotating presidency of the Mediterranean Regional Advisory Council.

What Happens Next?

The frozen specimen will be CT-scanned, its statolith ear bones checked for chemical signatures that might pinpoint birthplace. If Indian Ocean origin is confirmed, Malta may list the Bigfin squid as a “climate vagrant”, obliging authorities to monitor future arrivals under the EU Marine Strategy Framework Directive.

Back in Xlendi, Saliba has refused a €500 offer from a nightclub promoter who wanted to freeze the squid in a neon block. “It belongs to Malta, not to disco lights,” he insists. Instead, he hopes the Natural History Museum in Mdina will display it beside the taxidermied great white that terrorised fishermen in 1987.

Conclusion

Whether herald of ecological upheaval or freak stowaway, the Bigfin squid’s cameo has jolted Malta into recognising that our islands sit on the frontline of a warming, shifting sea. For centuries we have harvested, feared and mythologised what swims beneath our limestone cliffs; now we must also anticipate. As Dr. Aquilina puts it, cradling the crimson carcass like a newborn: “The ocean sent us a telegram. We’d better learn to read it.”