Our Blue Mother #PlanetOrPlastic

An Underwater Ballet

"Our civilization is flinging itself to pieces, stand back from the centrifuge." -Fahrenheit 451

Dolled-up in unattractive wetsuits that clung to our body, turning our figures into black, flat blobs, we struggled to crawl into our kayaks. Our paddles dug into the sandy bottom of the spring, and with a heave, we pushed from shore, gliding into the pristine waters. We paddled upstream, accompanied by sea otters slithering in the water and darting silver minnows. The otters were in no rush; floating on their backs to contemplate the blue sky. On either side of us, there were mangroves dipping long, skinny toes into the water for a drink. Beyond them, a dense forest where the occasional crash of wild-boars shattered the silence. Neither my friend nor I dared speak, for fear of breaking the dream-like spell that this oasis cast on us. Finally, we made it to the cove; where an aggregation of manatees were rumored to inhabit. Letting our kayaks drift over water the color of the sky, we waited. The only sound was water dripping from our paddles.

Harumph!  A nostril poked from the water, sending a fine trail of mist shooting skyward. Excitedly, we inched ourselves into the cool December spring water and shoved goggles over our eyes; turning into aliens. With an exaggerated breath, we submersed ourselves in crystals, diving through the underwater labyrinth. Seagrass tickled our cheeks. Our goal was to observe the manatees. There were five in total. Despite their thick, gray bodies, they had a way of disappearing into the water. When they came towards us, they materialized in seconds, and no matter how many times they did so, I was always taken by surprise to see a cow-shaped creature hurtling towards me from the dark.

There was a mother who flanked her calf, chewing seagrass with strange mouths. Drifting face-down at the surface, I found myself face-to-face with a manatee, and when it stayed there, gazing at me with sweet, dark eyes, I slowly reached my hand out to caress its fuzzy, algae-covered body. It did not flinch from my touch. Instead, it seemed to pull itself into it, nudging against me softly. To my great surprise and complete adoration, it flopped over, exposing its gray belly for me to scratch. 

This continued for hours; we made underwater ballets with the manatees, stroking their stomachs and watching them glide by. They had a pure, childlike innocent, and it was then that I fell in love with these gentle beauties. Without a doubt, it was one of the best days of my life. But even in the best days, there is darkness. When a large male glided by, sunlight reflected on deep, white scars running along his back. Hit by a boat, most likely. Compared to the others, he was the most nervous towards me, as if the accident had permanently scarred his mind along with his body.

Thinking that such gentle creatures are nearing their end; only 5,000 remain, and nearly 600 have died this year, is excruciatingly painful. Some fisherman purposely slaughter these majestic creatures, since they "eat all their fish," when really, it is the fisherman themselves who are taking an overabundance of fish. Boats bludgeon them to death. The toxins in red tide poison them, pushing their large, bloated bodies dead onto Florida shores.

At this rate, if we do not help these creatures, they will soon become extinct. This isn't a problem for future generations to deal with; this will affect us in the here and now. Our oceans and waterways take care of us, and now that it needs our help, it is our turn to take care of it. Read the next few chapters to learn how to help.

Sources:
https://www.oceanchampions.org/whats-killing-the-manatees/