Don’t look down
”
It’s not a genuine wilderness unless there’s something bigger
and meaner than you in it.
”
I can’t begin to recall who first said that, but it’s a notion
to which I completely subscribe.
Of course, that can be difficult in California.
The last grizzly bear to plod through this, the Grizzly Bear
State, disappeared in the dawning years of the last century. Cougar
attacks are so rare that it’s more profitable to worry about alien
abduction than a wildcat attack.
Don’t look down
“It’s not a genuine wilderness unless there’s something bigger and meaner than you in it.”
I can’t begin to recall who first said that, but it’s a notion to which I completely subscribe.
Of course, that can be difficult in California.
The last grizzly bear to plod through this, the Grizzly Bear State, disappeared in the dawning years of the last century. Cougar attacks are so rare that it’s more profitable to worry about alien abduction than a wildcat attack.
There’s nothing else in the state that’s likely to seriously jeopardize a human’s well being.
Or is there?
Take a trip to the beach and you stand at the frontier. The Pacific holds a vast amalgam of animals that regard humans as little more than food.
Orcas got a bad rap as “killer whales.” For gray whales, seals and sea lions, they are killers, but they’re a paltry threat to us. Giant squid are so rarely encountered that finding even a dead one is a global news event.
But sharks, oh yes.
Can anyone who has ever seen “Jaws” enter the sea in the same way again?
Seen today the movie is laughably corny. But it offers a reminder that something bigger and meaner than humankind may be lurking below.
That reminder was delivered about a week ago when a surfer in Marina was tasted by a young great white shark.
The surfer, recovering in a Santa Clara County hospital, appears to be recovering just fine. The beaches in the area are reopened.
As is usually the case, the surfer suffered deep cuts as the result of a bite, but the shark never came back to have a meal. It appears that he was tasted and found not tasty.
That’s typical.
While shark bites can be anticipated a time or two every year in California, deaths from sharks are rare.
Research by the Steinhart Aquarium staff in San Francisco suggests that shark attacks are mostly a matter of mistaken identity.
Biologists and volunteers camped out at the Farallons, a collection of rocky crags at the edge of the Continental Shelf, 26 miles west of San Francisco. They are remarkable as a nesting site for countless sea birds and marine mammals. It is the mammals that attract great white sharks.
The sharks there are so numerous that researchers count attacks on marine animals, studying each one for clues about shark behavior. The Steinhart staff dragged different objects over the surface of the sea, and most were eventually tasted by sharks.
The thought is that swimmers and surfers are being mistaken by sharks for their more usual prey.
Sharks are cautious feeders, and with good reason. Many bear scars around their eyes. Seals probably inflicted the damage as they were being bitten.
Sharks employ not only sight and hearing, but a sense of smell acute enough to detect only a drop or two of blood in the water. Moreover, they possess sixth and seventh senses, the abilities to sense movement through the water and electromagnetic fields.
Since sharks were swimming long before the first human stood on its hind legs, they must have adapted successful strategies for nourishing themselves.
And they did.
They typically feed by rushing at prey and inflicting a single bite before backing off to see what develops. If the animal cooperates and dies, it’s lunch time. But humans typically seek the safety of shore, where they are inaccessible.
Attacks are rare, but shark encounters are more common than one might think. Like the Marina surfer, surfers around the bay report occasional bumps – forays from curious sharks.
A popular photo depicts a surfer, riding a wave with the sun shining through it. Surfing the wave with him is the unmistakable silhouette of a shark.
That’s not a bad thing, I think. Going into a place where there’s something bigger and meaner than you, irrespective of how small the risk is, gives life perspective and meaning that cannot be attained any other way.
