A Visit to the Gobioid Collection in Shanghai Ocean University

Jing-Xuan Chen

Aug 5th, 2025

When I first thought about building this website, I never expected to include a blog. But this event truly deserves to be documented here—and nowhere is more fitting than this very site.

Last weekend, I was in Shanghai attending the symposium of the Ichthyological Division of the Zoological Society of China, hosted by Shanghai Ocean University. While the conference itself was valuable, this article is not about that. Instead, I want to share a special experience I had on campus—an encounter with something I had long hoped to see in person.

Over the years, I’ve learned a great deal about this collection: its location, its origins, its significance. But I never knew what it looked like, especially after the many changes it has undergone in the past two or three years. On Saturday, after attending a few lectures that particularly interested me, it suddenly dawned on me—the collection was just nearby. This wasn’t just any collection—it’s an epic archive of gobioid fishes, the largest in China, and perhaps one of the largest in the world. And now, I finally had a chance to visit it.

Here, one can see hundreds of thousands of fluid-preserved specimens, hundreds of type specimens, and one of the foundational centers for ichthyology in both mainland China and Taiwan. Indeed, this country has a long and proud history in ichthyological research—especially, as I personally care most about, gobioid research. Or, as this site’s name suggests, gobiology.

China’s scientific study of gobioid fishes dates back to the era of Linnaeus. Three of the seven gobioid species described by Linnaeus were based on specimens from China, including Gobius eleotris (now Eleotris sp.), Gobius pectinirostris (Boleophthalmus pectinirostris), and Gobius anguillaris (Taenioides anguillaris). However, it wasn’t until the 1920s that Chinese researchers began to systematically study gobioid diversity. Yuan-Ting Chu (朱元鼎) notably compiled the first statistical record of Chinese gobioids in his Index Piscium Sinensium, which documented 92 species.

Before World War II, several Chinese ichthyologists contributed significantly to the foundation of gobioid taxonomy in China. Scholars such as Yuan-Ting Chu, Hsien-Wen Wu (伍献文), King-Fu Wang (王以康), Chun-Lin Zhang (张春霖), and Ping-Wen Fang (方炳文) made major contributions—many of them working in Shanghai. The war, however, severely disrupted gobioid research. Afterward, Shanghai Fishery College (now Shanghai Ocean University) became a key center for gobioid studies in Asia. Yuan-Ting Chu in the earlier years, and later Han-Lin Wu (伍汉霖), led these efforts. Through the collaboration of Shanghai researchers with counterparts in Taiwan and abroad—including Emperor Akihito of Japan—hundreds of new species and regional records were described. The monumental Fauna Sinica: Gobioidei (2008) was produced by researchers from this very institution.

Odontobutis obscura from Kyoto Imperial Palace, gifted by Emperor Akihito of Japan—himself a distinguished gobioid researcher who maintained a close personal and academic relationship with Wu.

When I began to consider what specimens I hoped to see, I quickly realized it would be impossible to make a list. The collection contains not only a vast number of type specimens, but also countless rare or unique records—many representing the only known occurrence of a species. And when I finally stepped into the collection room, I was glad I hadn’t wasted time trying to prepare. Surprise after surprise emerged as I browsed the shelves.

Amoya microps, holotype. Now placed under Aulopareia, but without direct specimen examination.

Cryptocentrus cephalotaenius, paratype. From the specimen, it’s clear this species belongs to Amblyeleotris, consistent with a later taxonomic change—though that change was made based solely on description, not on specimen review.

A subspecies holotype described by Wu, but later omitted in his Fauna Sinica: Gobioidei. Its current taxonomic status remains unclear. A comprehensive review of Eleotris will likely require large-scale sequencing.

Myersina fasciatus, holotype. A species known only from its original description—even Eschmeyer’s Catalogue fails to document it.

Oxyurichthys macrolepis, paratype. Later treated as a synonym of Arcygobius baliurus based solely on description. However, based on this type specimen—especially its short snout—I am not convinced it belongs in Arcygobius. Further examination is needed.

Parioglossus sinensis, paratype. One of my favorite gobies due to its stunning fresh coloration.

Polyspondylogobius sinensis, holotype.

Scartelaos gigas, holotype.

Stiphodon multisquamus, holotype.

In addition to these type specimens, I also saw several rare or otherwise hard-to-collect species.

Drombus ocyurus from Kaohsiung, rare in China.

Callogobius hasseltii from Xisha, rare in China.

Chaenogobius annularis from Dalian. I have long suspected the presence of a second Chaenogobius species in China. This specimen suggests it had already been found—but was not included in Fauna Sinica and has since been forgotten by later researchers.

Marked as Glossogobius celebius, but now recognized as Glossogobius illimis after taxonomic revision. An amphidromous species found only in coastal streams of Guangdong, Hainan, and Taiwan.

Glossogobius circumspectus from Kaohsiung, A tropical mangrove-dwelling species of Glossogobius.

Hetereleotris poecila from Lanyu, a very rare species.

Kraemeria cunicularia.

Pterogobius elapoides from the Yellow Sea. Possibly the only documented record of this species in Chinese waters.

But I must admit, I felt a wave of anxiety after seeing them.

You may recall I mentioned that the collection underwent significant challenges in recent years. The carefully handwritten specimen tags were made by Han-Lin Wu, the chief editor of Fauna Sinica: Gobioidei, who worked here daily. After his sudden passing in 2022, the collection, like many natural history archives in China, faced a crisis: a lack of proper management and care. As a result, many specimens were mishandled or poorly preserved—some severely damaged.

Although awareness of this issue is growing, the overall condition of natural history collections across China remains concerning. Here, too, I saw broken bottles, dried-out preservative fluids, and no signs of active oversight. The deterioration is progressing faster than I had expected.

Still, it is not hopeless. Wu’s students, now working at the university, have recognized the urgency of the situation. I believe it’s not too late—if they take action now, the collection can still be saved.

Visiting this collection was not just a scientific experience—it was deeply personal. Seeing the legacy of generations of researchers, the care they put into every label, every jar, was both inspiring and heartbreaking. This collection is more than rows of specimens; it is the living history of gobioid research in East Asia.

I sincerely hope that those who inherit this legacy will act—preserve it, protect it, and carry it forward. As someone who dreams of contributing to the future of gobioid studies, I left the room with a mix of awe and quiet responsibility. It’s not too late. But it soon might be.

In memory of Han-Lin Wu and generations of Chinese gobioid researchers whose work shaped this remarkable collection.