Marine snow is on the menu for this cephalopod.

Despite the name, the vampire squid (Vampyroteuthis infernalis) is neither a vampire nor a squid, but the last surviving member of an ancient group of cephalopods.

Instead of hunting down prey, Vampyroteuthis feeds on marine snow—a flurry of dead plankton, poop, mucus, and other organic material sinking from the waters above. Two long, thin, sticky filaments collect bits of “snow.” Once their filaments are loaded with food, Vampyroteuthis pulls them through their arms. Suckers underneath produce mucus to concentrate the particles, then soft, finger-like cirri transfer the meal to the vampire squid’s mouth.

Vampire squid thrive in the oxygen minimum zone, where oxygen levels are only a fraction of those near the surface. Their passive feeding strategy requires very little energy, making it ideal for life in low-oxygen environments.

Relatively few predators can hunt in the oxygen minimum zone, but the vampire squid does not take any chances. That dark, reddish-brown color keeps Vampyroteuthis camouflaged in twilight waters where red light cannot reach. When threatened, vampire squid turn their cloak of webbed arms inside out, changing their appearance to confuse predators. If danger remains, the tips of their eight arms glow with pulsing blue bioluminescence—another form of visual trickery. They do not have ink for defense like many cephalopods, but can release bioluminescent fluid to distract predators.

With the help of deep-diving robots, MBARI scientists are answering fundamental questions about how this living fossil feeds, moves, and survives.

Our work is also revealing the complex web of connections between the surface and the deep sea. We have learned how deep-sea scavengers like the vampire squid help transport carbon to the abyssal seafloor, playing an important role in maintaining ocean health and buffering our planet from climate change.