If you live anywhere near the Bay Area, you need to find a way to get down to the Monterey Bay Aquarium and go see the great white shark. It will give you a whole new appreciation for big aquariums with thick glass walls.
For those who haven't ever had the pleasure of going to the aquarium: its two big showpiece displays are its kelp forest and its Outer Bay exhibit. The kelp forest is very cool, if a little overwhelming: looking at marine plants that are three stories tall will make anyone feel somewhat petite, and then there's the gazillions of animals living in the kelp. The exhibit's light-filled and teeming with activity, and it's very easy to wander out filled with a sunny buoyancy -- Yay, ecosystems!
By contrast, the Outer Bay exhibit's always been pleasantly spooky. Because it focuses on open-water fish (and turtles), the exhibit's meant to give both its denizens and its viewers the sense of staring into a vast, empty stretch of dimly-lit blue. If you wander up to the window, it's very difficult to tell where the walls and floor in the million-gallon exhibit begin and end.
Now imagine standing close to the window, watching firm, fat yellowfin tuna go powering by, when a great white shark glides out of nowhere straight toward you.
That was the thing about watching her: she seemed to fade in and out of view. I'd stand there, trying to see where she was circling, when she came up from a wholly unexpected direction. You can see the black sea turtle coming from yards away; the weary expression on its impassive face is tough to miss. The soupfin and scalloped hammerhead sharks are easy to spot. You don't see the great white until she's right in front of you.
It's very easy to parrot the Discovery Channel about how sharks are the ultimate predator, engineered for hunting and killing, blah blah blah. But this was the first time I actually understood that on a visceral level.
Because I'm a big dork, I made us sit through the two films the aquarium's currently showing on sharks -- one where Peter Benchley's all, "Hey. Don't believe everything I wrote. Sharks are merely the stylish sushi eaters of the deep!" and one where an aquarium employee noted with some well-deserved smugness that the Monterey Bay Aquarium's pretty darn fabulous for figuring out how to keep a great white shark in captivity, and wouldn't you like to see footage of her eating now? Both were entertaining. The great white shark was not entertaining. It was riveting, if by "riveting," you mean, "Oh, how fascinating; some part of my reptile brain is gibbering that watching this shark swim toward me is probably not in my best long-term interests. So that's what instinct feels like."
Please note, of course, that the rest of the exhibits are worth checking out. Like I said, there's always the kelp forest. The sea otters will render you helpless in the tractor beam of their cuteness. The jawfish cracked me up -- they look like Muppets. Angry, contemptuous, "stupid instinct that makes us dig out pebbles with our mouths and we don't even know where these pebbles have been"-muttering Muppets. I have an especial love of the sardines swimming in their tight, perpetual circles. Plus the movie about MBARI and their canyon research program is always engaging. (Sadly, the accompanying exhibit's no longer in display; view it online.)
And then, if you're anything like me, you'll leave the aquarium saying, "My goodness, it's amazing how all these animals live right near me. Now, anyone else up for some seafood?"
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