As the name suggests, A. rostratus has a pronounced snout and a mouth that functions much like a vacuum. It was only after watching a large male A. rostratus munch his way across a patch of silt and leaves that something else I had observed suddenly made sense. In shallow silty areas, I had seen huge numbers of small pits, almost as if someone had taken a little cookie cutter and made patterns in the substrate. These I learned are the tell-tale sign that A. rostratus has been feeding here. The fish itself is beautiful, not in the bold poster coloration of coral reef fishes or Rift Lake cichlids, but in the subtle shimmering blues and whites of its spotted fins, as it meanders through the shadows.
Males are ten inches, females nine inches long.
Sometimes all I spy are the two large spots, one in mid-body, the other above and forward, swimming disembodied through the dim waters. If I swim slowly toward the fish, it will move away, but then turn around and face a particular direction. Now you know one line. Swim at it again and it will move off to the side, but once again it will turn and point at the nest. Triangulate the two lines and there will be the nest often a layer of about 1000 small eggs, partially covered in silt, on the surface of a buried log.