How It Should Be

Despite the anxieties that plague so many when faced with the unknown of our oceans, it has always had a very calming influence on me. When I enter the water, I feel connected, understood; my very soul finds inner peace. There’s something very magical about floating around in such an alien world. In my case, being raised by a marine biologist, such a response is somewhat expected.

The first time I got a real taste, I was at the aquarium. There were so many rooms, with hundreds of different species of ocean dwelling animals; jellyfish and stingrays, turtles and octopus, squids and eels…and most exciting, the shark.

There was only one shark, about twice the length of me. Being the tender age of five, I found this to be quite large, although I now understand the shark was just a baby itself. To my innocent eyes, it seemed the most amazing thing I’d ever laid eyes on. There was something so majestic, so commanding about the attitude of this creature. I asked my father, who stood next to me, if we could have one at home.

He did not smile. Not that he was an overtly serious man; being a single parent, he learned a long time ago how to let loose and have fun. However, though I didn’t realize it at the time, my father did not bring me there for fun. He brought me on the trip to teach me a very valuable lesson.

“It’s certainly a neat thought.” He leaned down next to me, so we were practically looking from the same perspective. “Looks cool, doesn’t he?” My eyes widened in excitement.

“It’s a boy? How can you tell Daddy?” He pointed at the underside.

“You see that fin on the belly? Now, see that thing attached to it? That’s what he uses to hug the female…do you remember male, and female? Yes? Okay good…so he uses that when he’s ready to have a family. Female sharks don’t have that, only the male ones do.” My eyebrows wrinkled in concentration.

“So…all boys - males - have that?” He nodded, smiling gently.

“So…you hugged mom with that and then made me?” This got a genuine laugh out of him, and he kissed my forehead.

“Something like that…it’s a bit different for humans, but we’ll talk about that when you’re older.” He hoisted me up and put me on his shoulders, allowing me a real close look at the shark.

“This is a great white shark, Jellybean. It’s known to be a very dangerous, man-eating creature of the ocean.” This scared me.

“What? Daddy why is it here? What if it gets out?” He squeezed one of my knees reassuringly.

“Don’t worry about that; they can’t breathe outside of water. But, you’re right Kat…he should not be here.”

I frowned at this. Daddy wasn’t making a lot of sense.

“Why? Does he have to get back to his family?”

After a brief moment of silence, my father responded, “You see how slowly he’s moving, Peanut?”

I watched, and did notice a slight reluctance in his movement, but it made sense; he was probably swimming all day for people!

“Ya…maybe he’s tired?” I wondered where his bed was set up. Maybe he’d like a stuffed animal to help him sleep better.

“Yes, Baby, he’s really tired…you see, sharks are used to moving faster, and farther. Remember that time your friend Tracy came over, and you both raced each other in the backyard? Remember how tired, and out of breath you were after running for so long?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, sharks are kind of the same, except they lose their breath if they stop. Sharks get really tired and sick if they can’t swim. They don’t have to go really fast all the time, but they’re used to travelling reeeaaally far, because they never stop swimming.” He walked me along the whole length of the window, then back again.

“This aquarium seems really big to us, but to him, it’s very tiny. Imagine if you got locked in your room and couldn’t leave for the rest of your life? You could still move, but not very well.”

Perhaps it was because of my father’s words and my easily influenced brain, but all of a sudden, looking at the shark, it didn’t seem so majestic anymore; it seemed sad.

“But…why, Daddy? Why are they so mean to him? Why would someone lock him up if it makes him sick?” At this, my father stopped, and we both stood facing the shark, who, in my imaginative brain, seemed to be getting slower with every lap.

“Because the people who lock them up don’t care about the animals. They care about the money people will pay to come and see them; just like we are right now. When they make lots of money they can buy lots of cool things, and go on nice trips.” This made no sense to me.

“I don’t get it…why…why would they do that?”

“Because people are selfish. They don’t feel the pain, so it doesn’t bother them.”

Again, looking in the eyes of the shark, this made no sense to me.

“But…why? Don’t they see how sad the shark is?”

“They don’t care.”

It still didn’t click. My virtuous, naive brain could not yet comprehend the cruelty and disconnect with animals that my father was describing.

“So…why are people coming? Can’t they see how sad the animals are?” I looked around the crowded room, filled with people’s wide eyes, gaping mouths and cries of “ooohh” and “ahhh” and I wanted to scream at them to stop. How could they not know?

“You can’t blame them, Honey; nobody ever told them any differently. Nobody ever told them what I am telling you now.” He lifted me off his shoulders at this point, and knelt down so we were eye to eye.

“These creatures have feelings, thoughts, and motives; just like people. They’re smart, curious, and even though they’re called man eaters, have never been so. Can you guess how many people are killed every year from sharks?”

I thought about it. “Hmmmm….one fifty thousand?” He didn’t miss a beat.

“Good try! Not quite though…less than fifteen people a year, Jellybean. Now, guess how many sharks are killed by people every year?”

I was definitely gonna get this one. “A kabillion!”

“Much closer this time! It’s guessed that around 100 MILLION sharks are killed every year by humans! Think about ten seconds…let’s count to ten, okay? One…” Once we reached ten, he continued, “Alright, ten seconds. Now, if you wanted to count to 1 million seconds, it would take you 11 straight days of counting to get there…100 million, you would have to count for roughly three years straight…so, if you wanted to count every single shark that was killed in one year, it would take you until you were eight years old. But, to count all the people, it took us ten seconds. Do you understand?”

I did. To a certain extent, I did. I still did not understand how, or why people were so cruel, but I understood that they were; and I wanted to do something.

As the years passed, my fascination with the ocean only grew; as did my passion for sharks. By the time I’d reached high school I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and finally, when I graduated university, I brought it all to fruition.

My father - who was now retired - and I were on a large boat, in the middle of the ocean. The waters around us were surrounded by sharks, attracted by the chum we’d tossed in about ten minutes prior. The cage was filled with scuba divers, who were about to be submerged in the water.

“Ladies and gentlemen, before we lower you in for a closer look, I’d like to once again go over some basic safety tips on dealing with these magnificent creatures…remember; respect them, and they will respect you.” I looked at my dad and smiled. This was how it should be. THIS is how it was always meant to be. Humans in the cage, observing the animals in their own natural habitat. Not the other way around.