“¿Mamá? ¿Papi?” I called out, suddenly spotting three snorkels a distance away. Four? Maybe Mark and Mr. Manil went with my parents, too.
“Connor, can you see if that’s them?” I looked up at the Aussie, who lunged across the boat’s bow and grabbed some binoculars that seemed to appear as if by magic.
He was quiet for a second, concentrating as he fiddled with the settings to make the image sharper. All you could hear was our ragged breathing and the waves hitting the hull of the boat. Suddenly he pointed in the direction of the snorkels and said, “Yup! That’s them! And it looks like something is wrong!”
“It’s my fault, really. I should’ve been paying closer attention to where I was going,” Mom said as Mr. Manil rummaged around his bag for a first aid kit. Usually we got treated by Miguel, our medic, but he wasn’t arriving until later today due to a storm that had delayed his plane.
Once Connor had spotted Dad’s arm waving to the boat—a sign that someone was in trouble in the snorkel/diving world—our boat zoomed over to them. We helped get everyone out of the water as they explained what had happened. It turned out the group had come across a venomous sea snake and, as they tried to back up and give it some space, our mom had run right into the tentacles of a milky white jellyfish.
“Is it a dangerous one, Mr. Manil?” Mr. Savage asked as the Sri Lankan took tweezers out of the first aid kit and hovered over Mom’s exposed arm where an angry red mark in the shape of a tentacle was forming. He grabbed one end of the nearly invisible tentacle and tugged it off our mom’s skin, throwing it overboard.
Mr. Savage looked toward Mark and asked him, “Did you film it? Add it to the list of dangerous animals to showcase this episode, along with those giant elephants and monster sharks.” Mark nodded.
“I don’t think so,” Mr. Manil said, shaking his head at Mr. Savage
“Is it a box jellyfish?” Feye asked, his face getting a little paler. We had some in the aquarium section at the zoo and had heard horror stories about box jellies from our friends in Australia. Like their name suggests, they are box-shaped and although they are not that big, their venom is very potent and can kill people.
“It could be.” Mr. Manil shrugged. “But the box jellyfish in Sri Lanka don’t cause many problems.”
“Let me see the footage,” Mr. Savage asked Mark.
“How does the pain feel, Mami?” I asked her.
She winced a bit as she tried to smile at me. “I’m okay, baby. Feels like any other jellyfish sting. You should know how that is!”
I stuck my tongue out at her, remembering the time I dove face-first into jellyfish tentacles while snorkeling in the Galápagos Islands off Ecuador years ago. Ouch!
“Some ice and medicine for the pain should make it hurt not so much. But you’re a tough woman. I think you’ll be okay,” Mr. Manil said. We all let out a breath of air we didn’t know we had been holding.
“At least this snorkel wasn’t for nothing! I did get some cool footage of that sea snake,” Mark joked as we all laughed.
“I think we’ve had enough adventure for a day. We should get back and give the matriarch of the Villalobos family some rest,” Mr. Savage concluded. With that declaration, the boat was turned around and headed back to the dock.
This time, I didn’t sit up front with Zev. Instead, I carefully walked back to where my parents and Mr. Savage sat, wanting to know if we could talk about the shark festival now since we hadn’t this morning over breakfast.
Mom had a cup of something warm in her hands while she rested her head on Dad’s chest. He continued to hold an ice pack on her arm.
“Mr. Savage, have my parents told you about the idea Dr. Chandrika and I had for the show?” I asked.
“An idea, huh? No, I think we were a little bit distracted!” Mr. Savage chuckled, pointing to Mom’s arm. “You Villalobos gals are going to make me go gray!”
It was meant to be a joke, I think, but I didn’t find it that funny. Still, I laughed because I wanted Mr. Savage to be in a good mood when I told him my plan.
“Adrianna, since you helped come up with the idea, why don’t you tell Mr. Savage?” my mom said.
I sat down next to my parents and faced Mr. Savage, the fast momentum of the boat making it hard to stand and talk at the same time. Over the roar of the boat engine, I could hear Feye complaining about how he couldn’t get a “good shot” of our surroundings. Each time he tried to focus, the boat would jerk and cause his photo to come out blurry.
“Well, after my … outburst … the other day, I got to thinking about how not everyone likes sharks,” I said.
“This is true,” Mr. Savage said, nodding.
“Well, what if we show people who might be scared of them how amazing they really are?” I offered.
“How so?” Mr. Savage asked.
“By throwing a shark party! Dr. Chandrika and I were talking about her important outreach work through Waves of Action, and we thought we could throw a Shark Appreciation Festival. We could talk about the different sharks found in Sri Lanka, why they are important, and why people shouldn’t see them as these mindless killers,” I said. “We could bring in Sri Lankan scientists to do talks, and maybe one of us could do a small talk as well. And maybe, just maybe, we could get that Pondicherry shark freed back into the wild! You could film it all!”
Mr. Savage was quiet as he thought the idea through.
“The network might like the idea of changing human wildlife relationships through a younger member of our familia,” Dad suggested.
“True. And it’s not something I’ve seen on the network before …” Mr. Savage said, lost in thought.
He clapped his hands together after a few more seconds of silence, his eyes sweeping over us. We all heard Feye say, “Oh come on!” as the front of the boat inevitably got soaked.
“I will speak to the guys tonight and see what they say, but I have a good feeling about this,” he said. “You came up with this?”
I nodded and he winked at me. “Good job, Adrianna. Thinking like a producer!”
“More like thinking like a wildlife educator,” I said proudly. Mom smiled at me once again. Mr. Savage didn’t say anything. He gave me a tight smile and got up to talk to the camera crew about something.
“Do you think he really liked the idea?” I asked my parents.
They nodded. “But it’s not just up to him. It’s up to the network … but here is hoping they like it, too.”
With that, I got up and left my parents alone because Mom looked a bit tired. I should know—getting stung by a jellyfish stinks! I made my way up to the front of the boat to join my brother and Zev, who was laughing at Feye’s attempts to frantically snap the “perfect shot” for his Instagram grid.
“Hey, Zev! I wanna run an idea by you,” I called out.
“Run the idea by me, then, Adrianna,” he said, turning his attention from my brother to me and giving me a wide smile.
For the third time that day, I explained the idea about the Shark Appreciation Festival, asking him if he thought anyone would come. As the boat docked and we climbed off and all got into the seaplane waiting for us, he thought about his answer.
“Maybe. Sri Lankans are like everybody else—we love a good party!” Zev finally answered, speaking loudly since the plane’s engine was revving up to get us airborne.
“Think you could invite some of your friends to come? And they could invite some of theirs?” I asked.
He grinned. “Is this a mission?”
I nodded. “A life-or-death mission for that poor shark, Zev. It deserves freedom, but even if we could get it into a bigger tank, that would be a good start.”
Zev looked out the window as we flew high above the clouds and lost sight of the shimmery blue water and striking green mountains. “I’ll help you out as much as I can.”
“Well … then I have one more thing you can help me out with,” I said and leaned over to tell him my other plan.
“Of cour
se, Adrianna Villalobos wouldn’t be happy with just throwing a party,” Zev said, shaking his head as we walked toward our destination. It was about an hour after we had been dropped back off at our hotel so my mom could rest. While our dad stayed to check up on Mom, Feye and I decided to check out the hotel’s pool with Zev, who had gotten permission from his dad to stay with us.
Except, we weren’t at the pool. Well, not anymore at least. We had gone down with Feye, who began swimming laps, and I decided we should ditch my brother to go where we were currently headed: the fish market. With the camera from mi abuela in my backpack, I had asked Zev to bring me to the fish market so I could take pictures of the sharks there. I was sure that if I could showcase pictures of living Sri Lankan sharks in their natural environment looking beautiful and majestic, and then show them the sad-looking dead ones, then people might not be so afraid of them.
I wouldn’t be able to take any pictures of the living sharks all by myself—I wanted to see if Mark and Alice could help me with that part. Hopefully by showing people the contrast between lifeless sharks in the market and vibrant sharks out in the wild, we could inspire people to rethink how they see sharks, make different seafood choices, and not choose shark products.
“Think of it as an undercover mission! Just you, me, and—” I started.
“Don’t forget us!” a familiar voice said behind us. I stopped in my tracks on the sidewalk, turned around, and saw the smiling faces of my new friends Manisha, Punya, and Dilip.
“You have to admit it’s better to carry out an undercover mission with friends,” Manisha laughed.
“How did you know about this?” I asked, hugging them all.
“Zev called us and told us to meet him at the market with our cameras. We like your idea!” Dilip said, and each one held a camera in their hand.
I turned around to give Zev a big hug and whispered, “Thank you,” in his ear.
“Oooh!” teased Punya, with Manisha and Dilip laughing as Zev and I jumped apart.
I looked back to my new friends and we all continued to walk to the market, Zev leading the way. “So, you know the mission, then? Find sharks and take photos of them,” I explained. “Multiple photos of different angles. Make it all artsy.”
Manisha pulled out her phone. “Like this?” she asked and shared an image of a great white shark breaching out of the water. I had to hold in a giggle.
“No, not all sharks look quite as dramatic as a great white. I’ll point some out when we get to the market!”
It turns out the hotel we were staying at wasn’t too far away from the fish market. People filled every available space to look at the catches of the day. As they shouted over one another for prices and haggled to get the best deal, the five of us peeked between arms and bodies to see what lay gleaming on the tables. Some fish were kept whole, their dead eyes staring back at us. Others already had their heads hacked off and lay in buckets as fillets or were set out to dry. Many of these fish had signs with numbers on them and descriptions of what they were. Zev translated as we went around.
We made our way silently through the packed aisles, listening to the rhythm of the market: the thud of knives cutting up fish, people loudly trying to sell their catches of the day, and the briny smell of fresh fish.
After what felt like forever, we made it out the other side of the market and onto a beach. Dilip made a show of taking in a big breath of fresh air.
“Those long sacks are made out of kohu lanu, or coconut fiber,” explained Zev as I eyed the rolled-out sacks atop the beach sand with more fish on top, drying in the Sri Lankan sun. Seemingly thousands of tiny sardines and other small fish lay baking under the warming rays. I spotted some big fish chopped into pieces, and hundreds of squid tied up in a bunch together being rotated by some of the fishers.
“How are we supposed to spot any sharks from all these fish, Adrianna?” Punya asked.
“Punya is right—they all look the same to me!” Dilip said.
“Look for the big fish with the fins?” Zev offered.
“They all have fins!” Manisha exclaimed, and we all laughed.
My eyes scanned the mats along the beach and I squatted down, took the protective lens off my camera, and snapped a photo. “Well, why not take a picture of everything we see and then look through them when we get back to the hotel?” I said. They all seemed to think that was a good idea because with a nod, each person went to a different part of the beach to take photos.
As I walked down to a nearby mat where two men were yelling prices, I took a picture of their catches. Moments later, they yelled and shooed me away. I hadn’t realized that maybe some of the fishers wouldn’t be happy with a tourist taking photos of their catches. I thought about Mom talking about parachute science, and was suddenly worried I was being rude. I hadn’t asked before getting in their space.
I scurried away from the angry men and went to a mat a few aisles down. I said hello in Sinhala and held up my camera to mimic taking a photo, to see if the owners of this mat understood I was asking their permission. They smiled and nodded. Once I snapped the photo, I said “thank you” in my very limited Sinhala.
Their mat, along with the dozens in this aisle, was full of a variety of sea creatures. Alongside the crabs, squid, and barracudas I could make out were dozens of other animals I didn’t recognize. But then there was one I very much did. The owners—women sitting on small plastic stools—watched me as I focused on the peculiar-looking sharks.
“I found her!” I heard Zev say as I continued to snap photos of the four different shark species in front of me.
“What is that one?” Dilip said.
“Hammerhead shark,” I explained. I stood up and bowed my head in thanks to the women, once again practicing my Sinhala for “thank you.”
Punya clapped. “Your pronunciation’s getting better!”
“Are they called hammerhead sharks because their heads look like a hammer?” asked Dilip, wanting to know more. I nodded and took off my backpack, rummaging around for my field notebook, where I had written about these species. Finally finding it, I flipped to the sharks page and shared it with the gang while Zev read it out loud.
Hammerhead Sharks
Named for their hammer-like heads (with two extensions called “cephalofoils”).
Eyes on the edges of each side of the hammer—means there is a huge blind spot directly in front of their nose!
Found in many oceans around the world.
Four species found in Sri Lanka: winghead shark, scalloped hammerhead, great hammerhead, and smooth hammerhead.
Winghead Shark
Also known as the slender hammerhead.
Named after hammer-shaped head that can be almost as wide as half its body length.
Thought to live up to at least twenty years old.
Scalloped Hammerhead
Found solitary, in pairs, or in huge groups (schools).
Scalloped hammerhead sharks are caught for their fins and meat.
Listed as Critically Endangered.
Great Hammerhead
Largest species of hammerhead shark—maximum length of 20 feet (6.1 meters) and weight of 991 pounds (450 kilograms).
Nearly straight hammer-shaped head with indent in the middle.
May live up to forty-four years old.
Smooth Hammerhead Shark
Found worldwide in coastal, temperate, and tropical waters.
May live up to twenty years or longer.
Known to cannibalistically eat smaller members of their own species.
“Ew, they eat one another?!” Dilip said, sticking out his tongue. I laughed, but it was cut short when we heard a bunch of commotion inside the fish market building. It sounded like yelling …
Curious as to why there was so much yelling, we went inside and saw a group of men in matching uniforms shouting with men in bloodied shirts and shorts. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing at their feet!
“Adrianna … Zev … is that a sh
ark?” Manisha asked, her face looking a little green at the animal that seemed to be looking at us with its large eyes.
“Yeah … but I don’t know what kind of shark,” Zev answered.
“Adrianna, is this shark in your field notebook?” Punya asked.
I shook my head, my eyes never leaving the animal.
“No. But I’d know this one anywhere,” I whispered.
There was no mistaking the giant thresher shark on the floor, nor the pile of what looked to be frozen shark fins in the containers behind it. Thresher sharks are found in all temperate and tropical oceans of the world. It was on my bucket list to see them hunting in action. While most sharks are dangerous at just one end (their mouth), threshers have weaponized their tails to stun fish. The paralyzed animals are then an easy target for these sharks to gobble up. I had only seen videos of them in action, and I’d always hoped for the chance to see one for real. But not like this …
The family has three species, but I couldn’t tell which one was the one on the floor. The long top half of its tail sagged sadly toward its small mouth, and it was then that I noticed the striking difference between the top and bottom half of the shark—from a slate gray color to a creamy underside—which caught me by surprise. I thought the colors were only this bright underwater!
“Adrianna, we should really get going,” Zev said, tugging at my elbow and pulling me out of my trance.
“Zev, what are they saying?” I asked him, ignoring his pleas.
“Those two fishers are being arrested for bringing in that shark. The people in the uniforms are officials of the Department of Fisheries and the Sri Lanka Coast Guard,” Zev explained.
“Why are they here?” I continued, probing.
Swimming With Sharks Page 5