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The Fish With Extra Eyes, and Still No One Looking

  • Dec 26, 2025
  • 7 min read

Updated: 22 hours ago

Sri Lanka’s five-eyed spiny eel (Macrognathus pentophthalmos)


Nationally assessed as Critically Endangered, and once feared to be edging towards “possibly extinct” territory.


Picture this.

A muddy stream, ankle-deep, the kind of place you step over without drama.


Somewhere in that brown silence, a fish is doing its best work by not being seen.

It even brought extra eye markings.

And we still nearly lost the whole species.



Artist’s impression based on scientific descriptions and limited photographic records. Some species are so rarely photographed that illustrations remain one of the clearest ways to show they still exist. Do what you can do: If you photograph Sri Lanka’s rivers, streams or wildlife, your images could change that. Send this link to a photographer who might help: www.srilankasendangered.com/click
Artist’s impression based on scientific descriptions and limited photographic records. Some species are so rarely photographed that illustrations remain one of the clearest ways to show they still exist. Do what you can do: If you photograph Sri Lanka’s rivers, streams or wildlife, your images could change that. Send this link to a photographer who might help: www.srilankasendangered.com/click

Why a Small Fish Matters


Freshwater is where life becomes embarrassingly practical.


You can admire forests from a distance. You can argue about whales without meeting the ocean.

But water is different. Water shows up in your kettle. Your rice. Your skin. Your bills.


Small freshwater animals are often the first to react when streams stop behaving like streams.


Macrognathus pentophthalmos is not a headline animal. It does not leap heroically. It does not pose for calendars. It does not even look like it wants attention. What it does makes sense only once you see how it lives.


It is built for silence, not speed.

Long-bodied. Bottom-hugging. Half-hidden under sand, leaf litter and the general messiness that makes a stream a living place instead of a pipe.


The eel does not run the system.

It keeps it honest.


Living in the streambed, feeding quietly, disappearing early when conditions slip, it is one of the species that tell you whether a lowland stream is still functioning as a living place rather than as a managed channel.


When a creature like this fades out, the loss is not only one species fewer.

It is a warning light in the plumbing of the country.


Not a dramatic warning.

A polite one.

Which is exactly the problem.




How This Eel Got Good at Disappearing


Despite the nickname, this fish does not swim around with five functioning eyes, scanning your conscience.


The “extra eyes” are eye-like markings. Decoys. A visual trick aimed at predators. A quiet request that says, if you must bite, please bite the wrong end.


It lives in places that are easy to ignore.

Lowland floodplains. Slow-moving streams. Muddy edges. Side waterways.


That strategy works beautifully until humans arrive with straight lines and heavy equipment.


You cannot protect a species whose best skill is being overlooked.



Why This One Almost Slipped Away


The decline of this eel is not a single-villain story.

It is a stack of pressures that quietly cooperate.


A stream gets dredged or straightened because it is “just” a stream.

Sand is removed because sand looks like a resource, not a habitat.

Water quality slips because each household, each field, each small discharge feels too small to matter.


And then the final pressure arrives.

The one that does not look like pressure at all.


Invisibility.


You do not fight for what you do not notice.

You do not measure what you do not name.

You do not design around what never appears on the map.


In 2024, researchers reported finding both a juvenile and an adult of this species again in Sri Lanka’s dry-zone lowlands. Genetic work separated it clearly from a close Indian relative and pointed to priority areas worth surveying next.


That is hope and warning in the same sentence.


Hope, because the eel was not a ghost.

Warning, because the story still contains the phrase “we do not know.”



The People Already Doing the Quiet Work


These are not names for decoration. These are people and institutions making it harder for quiet freshwater species to vanish unnoticed.


Hiranya Sudasinghe – University of Bern and Naturhistorisches Museum Bern

Focus: freshwater fish identity you can test, not just debate

Concrete action underway: part of the team documenting verified records of M. pentophthalmos in Sri Lanka and clarifying how to distinguish it from close relatives so surveys and planning start with the right species.


Tharindu Ranasinghe – Wild Island Foundation, Moratuwa

Focus: field-linked conservation and biodiversity documentation

Concrete action underway: converting scattered sightings into published records that others can build on, the first step towards targeted surveys and protection decisions.


Rachith Priyankara Perera – Polonnaruwa

Focus: local field knowledge in landscapes where the eel still occurs

Concrete action underway: reporting confirmed recent individuals from Sri Lanka’s dry-zone lowlands, grounding conservation in lived reality rather than assumption.


Lukas Rüber – Naturhistorisches Museum Bern and University of Bern

Focus: genetic confirmation and species boundaries

Concrete action underway: using genetic markers to separate M. pentophthalmos from similar species, which matters because protection fails quickly when identification is uncertain.


Where Protection Actually Lives


This is where conservation happens day to day. Unspectacular. Essential.


Department of Wildlife Conservation

What they do: manage protected areas and enforce wildlife protections under Sri Lanka’s wildlife framework


Why it matters here: protection often begins with places, and remaining habitats may overlap with landscapes where rules already exist.


National Aquatic Resources Research and Development Agency

What they do: aquatic research and long-term monitoring, including of inland waters


Why it matters here: quiet declines become visible only when someone returns patiently, again and again, with records.


IUCN Sri Lanka and the National Red List community

What they do: translate scattered records into national conservation priority


Why it matters here: if a species is not in the public mind, it still needs a formal place in decision-making.


Central Environmental Authority licensing and compliance systems

What they do: regulate pollution and operational impacts through environmental approvals

Why it matters: this eel lives downstream of everyday human decisions

What fails without it: water quality erodes quietly, one small approval at a time


Geological Survey and Mines Bureau oversight of sand extraction

What they do: license and regulate activities that directly affect riverbeds

Why it matters: this species depends on sand, silt, leaf litter and slow flow

What fails without it: habitat disappears first, and the eel disappears politely after


National Aquatic Resources Research and Development Agency monitoring systems

What they do: track aquatic conditions over time, below the headline research

Why it matters: trends emerge only when data is patient

What fails without it: conservation reacts late and expensively


Verified reference collections held by Sri Lankan research institutions

What they do: preserve specimens and identification material that turn “we think” into “we can confirm”

Why it matters: protection collapses when identity is disputed

What fails without it: planning becomes argument, and argument is slow


Repeat field surveys and local ecological memory

What they do: revisit the same muddy edges across seasons

Why it matters: one sighting is hope, repeated visits become a map

What fails without it: species are rediscovered, celebrated and lost again


Public noticing and community awareness

What they do: turn residents, students and naturalists into early warning systems

Why it matters: extinction is often prevented by people who notice first

What fails without it: silence wins, because silence is efficient




What You Can Do


You could do this; if not, that’s okay too.


Easy

If this made you pause, forward it. Send it to one person who loves hidden creatures or one person who works with land, water or development.


Practical

Spend five minutes at your nearest small stream. Not the big river. The small one.

Does it smell like a stream or like a drain? Is there shade? Sand and leaf litter, or bare scraped mud?

You do not need to be an expert to notice a place becoming less alive.


Deep

If you work in planning, construction, agriculture or local government, ask one early question:

What happens to this stream after we do this?

One question asked early can prevent a lot of “too late” later.


We’ll soon include a link here that takes you to all the organisations already helping to fix these challenges. If you know someone doing great work, share this page (click) with them. We would love to feature their story and help them reach the world.




Final Thought


The most dangerous sentence in conservation is not “it is extinct.”

It is “I did not know it was there.”


A Note for Two Kinds of Readers


For Advocates

You’re not just reading. You’re lighting the way. Forward this to at least one other person.


For New Readers

If this found its way to you, welcome.Join us to become an Advocate – Learn, Share, Act. www.srilankasendangered.com



What We Still Need to Understand


What does a healthy lowland stream actually look like?

This matters because you cannot protect a memory. You have to protect conditions.

What flow, shade, sediment and seasonal change does this eel require?

Which streams still meet those conditions today, on the ground?


How do different people experience the same waterways?

Streams are livelihoods, boundaries, shortcuts, dumping grounds and sacred spaces at once.

How do farmers, households, sand miners and fishers define “a good stream”?

What protection looks like depends on who is standing on the bank.


Where do good intentions still fall short?

Are small tributaries treated as expendable compared to large rivers?

Where does implementation struggle most – clarity, resources, incentives or coordination?


What haven’t we tried together yet?

Could schools help collect usable water data?

Could local naturalist networks flag habitats worth surveying properly?


What does this quietly ask of us?

Not panic. Not guilt.

Attention.

And the humility to accept that important things are not always impressive.



Version 2 – Whom We Want to Hear From Next


Know an expert we should be speaking to? Invite them – click here.

If you’re that expert, click here or reach out to experts.srilanka@theplayn.com.

We’re building an open database of conservation experts and organisations – your insight can directly shape Version 2.

And if you’re a photographer (or know one) with photos you’re willing to share for public education, click here – or pass them on. Your images will help thousands learn.








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