Not Your Typical Florida Man Story

Rarely is a wildlife photographer fortunate enough to know their subject’s story. We might know the facts of our subject, the natural history, and if we are lucky, we might even know the individual as one we have photographed before, but still there are always facets left unknown. Unfortunately, this story is an exhausting one with an overused plot and climax replayed across nature and if there is any comfort, it would be in the theme. I like to think the theme has something to do with passion and endurance and that so long as animals exist there will be those willing to help them.

I love Florida. I love its heat, its flat lands, its Everglades, its freshwater springs, its beaches, its everything. I love Florida so much that the day I bought my first DSLR camera, a Nikon D40, I went down to the beach and hoped to find some dolphins. No dolphins that day, so I settled for the landscape; gigantic, sun bleached clouds above massive red cedars with cream-colored sand everywhere. I didn’t know it then, but with time came the knowledge it was possible to read the land and water like a book. I would guess this is a known fact for those who frequent the same spaces of outdoors. Fisherman, boaters, hikers, anyone who spends time with nature in silence. I would go back to that same beach and, over the years, develop a system of trial and error. I learned to test the rainy days was good for the skin but not for the camera. If I wanted the chance to see dolphins, it was best to go when the winds were below 10 miles per hour so the waves were not so tipped. The golden months are March through October when spring turns the water near crystal clear some days. That eight-month period teams the waterways between the fishing pier and a small island 2.5 miles out with manatees, bonnethead sharks, spotted eagle rays, Loggerhead sea turtles, dolphins, and more.

From the pier I frequent most often I can watch cruise ships and freighters pass between myself and the small island. I will admit the ships are impressive, but what is more intriguing are the dolphins who choose to ride the bow waves made by the ship. Their grey bodies look like ants next to the fire red steel and yet this difference does the opposite for those brave dolphins than what it would do for me. While I am terrified of such a colossal beast of machinery, the dolphins seem to thrill in it as they toss their bodies out of the water. Mackerel, ladyfish, pompano, snapper, sheepshead, and greenbacks turn the waterway into a buffet for the dolphins making the appearance of hunting behavior an easy find. I have seen dolphins chase, corral, charge onto a beach, and catch midair their selected prey item and each time there is a rush as I steady my camera to prepare for a shot. Missing the shot still leaves me with wonder for how incredibly fast these animals are and making the shot means I get to celebrate with a cantina lemonade. It is because of dolphins on the hunt I noticed the same trio of dolphins.

There is a select group of dolphins who routinely use the fishing pier for hunting. Often this trio of males breaks off from one another with each taking to a different part of the pier. Sometimes, while the tide is shifting, they will remain under the pier and just glide through the passing water while they use little of their precious energy to hunt. When a pier angler pulls in their line, the dolphin will snag the catch and then return to his place beneath the pier where it is harder to be noticed. Comments from anglers range from irate to perplexed and even amused. While it is disheartening to hear a casual fisher curse the dolphins, the dolphins themselves take no insult as their speed and grace often gives them full control. Still, the facts flood my head and I wish it would do the same for those poor souls who lose their catch. A healthy, adult Atlantic bottlenose dolphin can eat up to thirty pounds of fish a day and if that dolphin is pregnant or nursing a calf that number only goes up. Also, dolphins are a protected species under the Marine Mammal Protection Act meaning for those anglers who toss their unwanted catch out for the dolphins to eat they are breaking the law.

I know people fish for different reasons and there are those who come to the pier looking for their dinner because they cannot afford any other meal and for them I have all the respect in the world. There are also those who fish for the sport of it and I wish they would understand the simple truth; the dolphins have no other options than to hunt. Over time, as I became more accustomed to seeing the same three-member group of dolphins, I thought it a neat idea to name them. The lightest colored one with a single notch near the tip of his dorsal fin I named Robin, mostly because I thought it would be odd to name a dolphin Batman, but wanted a hero’s name for such a cool dolphin. Lou, named after a well-known dolphin researcher Louis Herman, is darker with a hooked dorsal fin that always wiggles when he is chasing fish. The final member of the trio is a bulky animal with patchy coloration I call Randy, named after Dr. Randall Wells whose studies on Sarasota dolphin populations have fed the literature for decades. I know it is possible these animals are already known by different names. Names given to them by paid professions who spend their days either on a boat tracking and documenting dolphins or in a photo lab analyzing hundreds of photos used to make a journal detailing the complex lives of coastal dolphins.

For a long time, the only three dolphins I knew were Lou, Randy, and Robin, but just as the tides change so does the social dynamic of Florida’s most intelligent animal. I do not exactly remember when I first noticed Soto, but I remember going through my photos thinking I had taken a lot of Randy that day, but then there it was. A slight difference in dorsal fin notching. I had learned when I was a kid the professionals tell one dolphin from the next by the differences in the dorsal fin. Soto and Randy had near identical notches, but when viewed next to each other it was easier to see the slight difference in placement. Soto was not as common of a visitor to the pier, but eventually I caught on how to tell her apart from Randy and this ease turned effortless when Soto showed up one day with a calf. Only about three and a half feet long, the little calf was less than a year old and stayed close to Soto as she hunted around the pier. It occurred to me then how unfortunate the circumstance were to see such a young animal traveling with its mother. Dolphins are mimickers and in a few years the young dolphin would be off on its own with the knowledge a more efficiently captured meal could be obtained by simply waiting beneath a pier.

Dolphins face several threats in the ocean, and most of them come from us. Run off that causes algae blooms which then die off taking stocks of fish with them. Plastic in the water and in the food. Miles of discarded fishing line and nets. The list of potential threats Soto’s calf would face in its lifetime was long and dangerous, but the most immediate one was the fishing line every single time that calf followed Soto near the pier. In the past I have called or emailed the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) for a variety of reasons; tourists harassing manatees, dead sea turtle on the beach, etc., but one of the most upsetting messages I have ever had to send was an email with photos of a calf with fishing line around part of its left fluke. A situation involving a dolphin who is not stranded on a beach, but possibly in need of help, can be a difficult one to address and while there have been marine mammal rescues performed on animals like Soto’s calf it remains incredibly challenging. Tracking the calf, organizing a rescue in unpredictable waters, and that is all before any handling takes place which alone could be more hurt than help depending on the circumstances.

I am unsure of what happened to Soto’s calf, but if I am going by the general facts, then I am more pessimistic. If the calf was a female, it is expected she would remain with Soto for over three years and if the calf was a male, generally speaking, he would probably break away from Soto sooner than a female calf. I do not believe the calf I saw with Soto was old enough to survive on its own. I would see Soto again, but she would be without her calf. Again, I retreat to the facts. Dolphins are social animals and it is a well-documented behavior that mother dolphins will leave their offspring with other mothers, giving them time to hunt and rest. For all I know Soto had done just that, but that fact remains; I never saw that calf again.

Perhaps a year and a half later, during the golden months, I was out at the pier during what I could only describe as the single best day of photography I have ever celebrated. There was a breeze strong enough to keep me cool, but not so powerful it made the waves tipped. The water was clear, and I could see the bodies of Lou, Robin, and Randy several feet below the water. The clouds captured the sun perfectly, almost creating a photoshoot quality lighting that made every color pop. I had not seen Soto in a while, so when she showed up, I was surprised and even more so when I saw her with another calf. Smaller than the one before, this calf did as the last and remained very close to Soto. I captured several photos of the calf that day, but the one I selected shows the calf exhaling fully with ripples of water cascading down its melon like a watery crown. A little yellow around the lips, a trait I have seen in many dolphins, with small hair follicles along the rostrum (beak) where when the calf was first born held a mustache that soon fell out as hair on a dolphin is about as useful as a dorsal fin on a human. Behind the calf is Soto’s peduncle, the stalk part of the dolphin’s body leading to the tail flukes. This photo was taken a few years ago, but if I remember correctly, I preformed some editing on it like cropping and brightness enhancement. Thankfully, I did not see this calf and Soto very often and I can only hope the calf survived and is doing well.

It is tough being a wildlife photographer, but I know being a dolphin is tougher. I am blessed to watch the world pass by from the pier and from other beautiful places across Florida. However, this beauty comes with a stark truth; that it could all be lost and some of it is already gone for good. It is not cliché to mention that simple changes can save a life because I hope life never becomes so commonplace in our minds that it is not valued. After all, had the person who lost their fishing line attempted to recollect it and dispose of it, there might be one more healthy dolphin out there.