Fragile, slow, unforgettable. The story of a seahorse.
The Little Prince of the Sea
If the sea had a gentle, silent and somewhat magical mascot, it would be the seahorse. Small, elegant, with a rigid back and a tail that curls like a hand. It seems drawn by someone who, very calmly and ironically, decided to ignore all the rules of anatomy.
It doesn't swim like other fish. It doesn't eat like other fish.
And, spoiler, it doesn't reproduce like other fish.
A unique appearance
At first glance it seems shy, almost awkward. It has the elongated snout of a hummingbird, the light "horns" of a gentle unicorn and an upright posture that, in a world made for those who move horizontally, is already a form of courage. Some look at it and think it seems lost. But perhaps it's just someone who has understood how to remain: always balanced, always clinging to something.
It makes no noise, doesn't jump, doesn't show off.
But if you stop and listen, it tells you one of the strangest and most wonderful stories of the sea.
Why the seahorse specifically?
When someone asks me "But why the seahorse specifically?", the answer is simple: among all the creatures of the sea, it's the one that seems to have come out all wrong. Small, crooked, shy, with the bewildered air of someone who missed the meeting of "serious" fish. It keeps to itself, doesn't participate, always seems a bit sad... but it doesn't take much to understand that it's the complete opposite.
It's strength that makes no noise.
It's beauty that doesn't seek approval.
It's living proof that one can be a spokesperson for a deep and extraordinary world.
My impossible hunt
I searched for it for years. I roamed underwater like a low-budget documentary explorer, armed with two flashlights, a GoPro and a mental map of "good spots". All I was missing was a magnifying glass.
Every dive was a mission.
Every dive was the same promise: "Today I'll find it."
I slipped among the algae with the air of someone about to make a historic discovery. I checked every tuft of posidonia, every submerged branch, every suspicious shadow. Shallow areas, slow fins, watchful gaze... yet nothing. In the end I surfaced with the feeling that the seahorse had received my name and was participating in a great social experiment: "Never let her see you."
Luck arrives
Meanwhile, everyone saw them. Even those who weren't looking for them. Even those who had their mask on backwards.
"I saw one! It was right here, I swear! Tiny, but it was there!"
Me? Never.
You know Fantozzi's black cloud? Well, same thing. But underwater. Every time someone spotted a seahorse, I was on the other side photographing a rock with conviction.
At a certain point I began to suspect I was part of a big joke: "Observe how long a person can resist before believing that the seahorse is a collective invention."
And then, when I had almost stopped waiting for it... it happened.
The year I was about to become an instructor, I saw four. In four different dives. My year of the seahorse. And it brought me luck.
The first one found me (actually the guide found it for me). I was still. And suddenly I saw it, after ten minutes. Tiny, perfect. I stopped moving. I stopped breathing. And I smiled.
Because when you meet them you can't pretend it's nothing.
You stop finning. You stop thinking. You smile inside the mask. It's one of those moments that stay in your heart for years.
Biology of a "non-fish"
But what is a seahorse, really?
Yes indeed, it's a fish: it belongs to the genus Hippocampus, family Syngnathidae, along with pipefish and sea dragons. Looking at it, however, it seems like a draft of an idea, rather than a finished fish.
Unique characteristics
- It swims vertically, which is very rare in the marine world
- It has no caudal fins, only a dorsal fin that beats up to 70 times per second
- The body is protected by rigid bony plates, arranged in rings like external armor
- It has no scales and possesses neither teeth nor stomach: it sucks in tiny crustaceans and plankton through a tubular snout
- The eyes are independent, like those of a chameleon, guaranteeing 360° vision
- The tail is prehensile: it serves to anchor and to court
Male pregnancy
During mating, two seahorses intertwine in a slow and synchronized dance, a ballet that lasts hours or days. The female deposits eggs in a pouch on the male's belly, he fertilizes them internally, incubates them and then gives birth to them, with abdominal contractions, releasing hundreds of tiny seahorses that swim away like living confetti.
A fragile habitat
The seahorse lives in coastal environments: posidonia meadows, algae beds and coral reefs. Precisely this specialization makes it extremely vulnerable: it needs clean, stable waters rich in vegetation to feed, reproduce and use its prehensile tail.
Threats such as pollution, habitat loss due to coastal development, non-selective fishing and collection for the aquarium trade have caused a sharp decline in populations. For this reason, several species are now protected by international conventions such as CITES.
The myth and the symbol
In antiquity, the seahorse was not just an animal: it was a mythological creature. The Greeks associated it with Poseidon and depicted it as part of his retinue, half horse and half fish, pulling the gods' chariots through the waves. In many cultures it has been seen as a bearer of luck, mystery, balance and strength.
Even today, finding one in the blue, in the midst of all that silence... is a small miracle.
They make no noise, they don't ask for space. They remain.
Defending them means defending everything that, in the sea (and in life), is precious.
A lesson in slowness and resilience
The seahorse is a marvel of resilience: it doesn't flee, it adapts; it doesn't fight, it camouflages; it doesn't run, it attaches itself. In its small world of posidonia and calm waters, it builds a delicate, poetic, almost invisible existence.
Finding one is not easy. And not just because they're rare.
They watch us, motionless, while we fidget with our fins. It's a game that can only be won by learning to slow down. The seahorse doesn't shout, doesn't impose itself, doesn't show off. But if you meet it, you never forget it. It stays with you in the silence, close to your heart. It looks at you. It teaches you that there's another way to be in the world: slower, quieter, gentler.
The seahorse as Koraliso's symbol
It's precisely because of this slowness, this silent strength and this ability to adapt that the seahorse has become the symbol of Koraliso. It reminds us every day that respect for the sea passes through attention to detail, protection of fragile habitats and sharing of authentic stories.
Together, we learn from the seahorse: slow down, observe and defend what is precious to us.