Instead of turning out to be an extraterrestrial snack or a monster delivered from an unknown universe, the big blob, approximately a foot in diameter, found in Lake Huron this summer turned out to be Pectinatella magnifica, otherwise known as a “magnificent bryozoan” colony, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

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Their post on August 17 with an accompanying photo said, “If you’ve ever found a floating, gelatinous blob while out kayaking and thought, who left that perfectly good gummy bear to rot in the lake, you’re not alone. But guess what, that isn’t a gummy, a pile of frog eggs, a mutant brain, or a sci-fi nightmare. It is Pectinatella magnifica, aka the magnificent bryozoan.”

Their post goes on to say, “What looks like a single giant blob is actually a community of thousands of tiny, filter-feeding creatures called zooids, working together in harmony. These ancient creatures breathe life into freshwater, capturing plankton and cleaning the water as they drift in slow-moving rivers and lakes. Some colonies grow over a foot wide, pulsing gently with the current, a secret world hidden in plain sight.”

Apparently these colonies come from a lineage that’s been thriving for over 480 million years, quietly and efficiently doing its thing. That’s right – while you’ve been busy binge-watching whatever fad series came out last month, bryozoans have been filter-feeding, purifying water, and generally keeping things ecologically balanced since the Paleozoic era.

And winter’s no obstacle – these blobs aren’t fragile. They can release statoblasts, microscopic “survival pods” that can endure freezing and drying – putting them in geological limbo. Once conditions thaw, they spring back to life.

Don’t fret about running into the blob though – the often unnoticed bryozoan colonies are harmless and are actually indicators of good water quality. While some colonies are only a few inches across, they can form colonies that grow over two feet in diameter.

So, the next time you encounter a suspiciously blob-like object floating near you, take a deep breath – and maybe take a photo instead of screaming. You’re not witnessing a sci-fi invasion. You’re seeing a squishy gelatinous colony doing its thing… quietly and efficiently. It’s definitely not going to grow into the size of a truck and devour people into its gooey mass. Or at least it hasn’t so far.