Dolphin Address 38
September 29th 2005
So sad. When it comes to dolphins we all tend to agree: these are sentient beings, a yet uncovered intelligence, a species blessed with a mind of their own. To many they categorise as our own extraterrestrials, like an 'Enterprise' inquiry object, communicable with a twist of fancy, an image mirroring the flight of our own fantasy. We are touched by their planetary kinship, by their supposed psychological similarities and in awe over their marine expertise. We feel blessed by the occurence of their ambassadors who link us to the entire species. A species that has no need for us, a species that walked the Earth way before us, but took preference to the waters, avoiding the curse of gravity and turning the aquasperic resistance into an asset. A species with a brain much like are own, that demands the respect we hasten to reserve as ours to assert and generously think to share with our 'cousins of the sea'.
And then comes along this German photographer with his precious camera. He was properly forwarned by the regular swimmers: Dusty may demand your camera. She has an intense curiosity for all parts of our body that she knows are detachable and she regards them as a souvenir, a toy or an object of inquiry. She does not adhere to our notions of private property. She is as puzzled and intrigued by the unknown as we are and she is aware of intent incorporated in matter. When we were filming her with a land wired remote camera she took an unusual interest in the data cable. She sensed the energy of the flow, picked it up time and again and nozzled it on her melon, her own communicable.
So this German camera was a take-away curiosity, a bounty of terrestrial genius, an asset to her famed mysterious treasure cove, an object from the other world that she found worth while studying. So she wanted it, like we do in the name of our own science. The man did not heed the advice of the Dedicados, he must not have realised that his landlubber superiority did not mean squat in the brine. And when Dusty did demand the camera he did not submit it. The conflict was settled by the rule of power: Dusty drove her rostrum in his stomach and took the camera.
Suddenly we are less delighted about a dolphin having its own mind and all. We do not recognise an effective knock-out where she could have easyly killed the man with one stroke of her fluke. We can't help to common sense a breach in our own norms of conduct and question the moral of the dolphin. Somebody called a ambulance, but it left again after diagnosing the physical injury as none-emergent. The psychological injury was swiftly called in to the media and they had a field day of indignation and revenge. Now thousands upon thousands of people had the day of their life swimming with the dolphin but this massive reality dwarfs by the notion that one single ignoramus puts a prized possession at risk. Its almost like sueing the water for being wet. When one of us get the short end of the chick we frighten up and cry wolf: this dolphin is a threat to man! It was all over the tabloids and even the more respected newspapers shook their heads about the unreliability of Nature.
The authorities quickly covered their responsibility by erecting a gigantic sign that warned about swimming in dangerous water. Not a single word about the dolphin, but nevertheless an act that is far more dangerous than the protection it means to provide. I wonder how many people lose their life by ignoring signs that are placed on genuinely dangerous locations. This kind of misinformation reminds one of the governmental stupidity to rank soft and hard drugs in the same category. It is a bureaucratic red tape maneuver to shield its representatives from liability and it pertains to the grimm sense of humor that leads traffic authorities to place a max. 100 km sign just before dangerous road bends.
Anyway, shortly after this incident, 13 days ago, Dusty disappeared. All kinds of explanations emerge, the most vicious one being based on a meeting of the County Clare Council two years ago on the situation in Fanore where the dolphin 'caused' day trippers to jam the traffic by leaving their vehicles for a dolphin-watch stroll. There it was argued to deport or even terminate the dolphin as a final solution. Fortunately Dr. Simon Berrow of the Shannon Dolphin Experience stood up in this blame-game and illuminated the Council that the dolphin is a protected species under European law. It quickly abandonned its savage intent and reacted much similar to the present procedure. They covered their tracks by informing the public that the dolphin was a wild and therefore unreliable creature and that swimming from the particular slibway was a dangerous enterprise. They might as well have covered the entire coastline of Ireland with this notice.
Word circulates now that someone may have taken the drastic option and has killed the dolphin. It is dead easy. Just go to the BoatHouse Bay in a fast boat and she will be only too eager to join. A bit of a sniper can't miss her and the people in power will be rid of a persistent nuisance: the irresponsibility of dolphin stupinados.
I do not choose to believe this. Neither do I believe Dusty left in a surge of disgust on the gross misappreciation of her graces or decided to lay low for the accusations to fade. I think the panic that butters the bread of sensation hunters should not affect the judgement of those put in charge by the very same public that seems to celebrate the bad news. If we need to satisfy our dismay with any kind of a plausible explanation we'd better turn to a biological one and there is.
Autumn is the season for the influx of sprat. Incredible multitudes of these tiny fishes are driven to the surface by their main predator, mackerel, in a boil of water. Again, dolphins feed on mackerel, so Dusty may very well be gathering winter fat out there in the vast of the ocean, while we are struggling our ignorance into a political sparr.
Perhaps we should acknowledge her absence as a break, a time for reconsidering our ambivalent notion of alien intelligence, an opportunity to update our appreciation of kindred spirit. Some people think she has swum out to protect us from the outlash of hurricanes like Katerine and Rita. Lets all dream on and hope one day we will wake up to the return of our own mental sanity.
Jan Ploeg, Meadow Fanore, September 29th 2005
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