"The
Manta was approximately 5 to 6 feet wing tip to wing tip; it was a female."
"She had,
hanging from her right cephalic fin, several feet of wadded-up monofilament
line and a heavy sinker weight dangling from a large hook embedded in that
fin."
"She must
have sensed that I was not a threat to her and it appeared that she singled
me out to help her."
"She
continued to allow me to keep pace with her and actually work the hook out
of her fin. It took several tries, but she never flinched or tried to dive
away."
"After
removing the hook I still could not believe what had just taken place. I could
only stare after this beautiful animal. I was overwhelmed."
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Yesterday my friend Karen
talked me into going with her and a couple of other friends on a boat dive.
At first I did not want to go, but the thought of being in the water won out.
Our first dive was at Guam’s famous Blue Hole. As usual the site was spectacular
with a bit of a northerly current picking up as we ended the dive. Oli, our
boat skipper, asked where the next dive was to be, I yelled out "Val Bomber
and drift to American Tanker." "Too deep for the divers on board, but we’ll
go to the tanker," was the reply. After taking the mooring and about 45 minutes
into our surface interval one of the divers jumped in the water to do some
snorkeling. The snorkeler immediately called out that there was a Manta swimming
around just in front of the tanker. We all scrambled to don our gear with
hopes of getting an opportunity to see the Manta too. Little could I realize,
as I got into the water, that I not only would get to see the Manta, but also
get an unforgettable experience at the same time.
As I descended to the bow
of the American Tanker I could see my friends hovering out in front of the
ship. Then out of the gloom, I could see the white face of the Manta coming
toward us. The Manta was approximately 5 to 6 feet wing tip to wing tip; it
was a female. As she passed, it was clear that she had, hanging from her right
cephalic fin, several feet of wadded-up monofilament line and a heavy sinker
weight dangling from a large hook embedded in that fin. One diver had a pair
of scissors. He immediately approached the Manta and was able to clip off
the line and weight. He then tried to get to the hook, but she would not let
him near her. As he approached, she would roll upwards to deny him access
to the hook. It was apparent that the hook was deeply embedded in the right
cephalic fin and from all appearances it had been there for a while. The curve
of the hook was on top of the fin with the barbed end buried inside near her
mouth.
She circled us and circled
us. We were all fascinated and awed with her behavior. She kept getting closer
and closer to me on each pass. As good divers we all know and respect the
fact that you do not touch anything, no matter how much you want to. So we
all continued to watch.
After a bit, I think we all
got the understanding that she wanted to be near us as she came very close;
close enough to just reach out and run your hand along her wing. One of the
other divers was first to touch her and she did not shy away. As she passed
near me again, I too reached out to touch her wing; I was electrified at the
feel of her skin. She did not seem to mind and must have wanted more as she
kept coming very close to me as she turned gracefully through the water. I
wanted desperately for her to know that I was a friend and truly wanted to
help her only if she would allow me to get close enough. She must have sensed
that I was not a threat to her and it appeared that she singled me out to
help her. All I could do was maintain eye contact and put out my open hands
toward her. As she passed me again, I thought it is now or never if I am going
to attempt to get the hook off her cephalic fin. This time I drew even with
her on her left side as I reached out to caress the top of her wing, she did
not flinch, so I slowly glided across her back maintaining contact until I
was on her right side. I now brought my hand along the leading edge of her
right wing and started to work forward. She flinched and gently tossed me
up and off. Again we all watched and she continued to circle us. After several
minutes, she came at me again and continued to stay with me as I worked myself
up to a shallower depth to avoid getting into "deco." I decided, once again,
that I had to try. I repeated my earlier action and this time drew even with
her head and was able to grasp the hook. Unfortunately the hook was more deeply
embedded than I thought and I only succeeded in pushing the hook up on the
fin and probably deeper into the wound. I worried that I had done more harm
than good. The thought that I had to get the hook out was paramount in my
mind, but I would not attempt it unless she wanted it. She again came close
to me. On the third try, again starting from her left and working to her right,
I was now hovering over her and looking straight into the wound. She continued
to allow me to keep pace with her and actually work the hook out of her fin.
It took several tries, but she never flinched or tried to dive away. The hook
was ugly, the barbed end was bent inward to ensure that the animal would stay
hooked and not get away. How very cruel!
After removing the hook I
still could not believe what had just taken place. I could only stare after
this beautiful animal. I was overwhelmed…..she was beautiful and harmless.
We all remained transfixed in the water as my lovely Manta, now free of the
ensnaring hook and weight, circled around us. Twice she swam straight at me;
on the last pass I could not help put out my hand to once again communicate
with her. She dipped her wing gently touching my outstretched hand then slowly
turned to look at me. I swear she winked. She then banked her wings, sank
into the depths and flew away.
I have been diving in some
very exotic places and I can recount lots of stories of what I have seen,
but I can tell you that nothing I have ever seen or done, while diving, compares
to this event. Those who were witness to this dive can tell you; this was
the dive of a lifetime. My lifetime, for sure.
©
Bonnie Harris McKenna 2000
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