The first open mention of sharks since we've been in NZ came as we were on a ferry to Stewart Island. The captain was explaining emergency procedure:
"You will notice that the crew has a signal torch attached to their lifejackets. The rest of you do not. They have been trained how to use them as they attract sharks if used improperly," he said. Well, there you have it. The elephant in the room.
Stewart Island is a special place. The 400 or so residents that live there year round are a hearty, jovial breed. Thousands of people visit each year to enjoy the pristine islands and ocean. Oban is the little town, and the center of the action. There are museums, cafes, hotels, loads of eco tourism huts...and pretty much everywhere you go, you see a sign.
Now, I'm pretty interested in this topic. If you might recall, I am pretty attached to an avid surfer chic.
See, the sharks have always been around the island. In fact, Stewart Island is near the part of the ocean that is considered the Great White capitol of the world. They have always lived alongside the islanders, and have co-existed for almost 200 years. The sharks are very curious, but also very shy and wary. The islanders have a good understanding of their behavior and know how to work around it.
But that seems to be changing. Several years ago, the Department of Conservation began granting licenses for operators to offer tourists the opportunity to go cage diving with the Great Whites. Since the sharks are a protected species and as such are required to not be pursued or influenced, no one is quite sure how it happened. Well, there is a pretty strong theory, and it isn't pretty. If one very influential entity, you know, someone like The Discovery Channel, was somehow granted a permit, then the government would be obliged to grant permits to various other entities. The fact remains that the residents, the commercial divers, and the Maori council that has legal say in ecological welfare, all opposed the licensing but it went through anyway.
Cage diving, if you don't know, involves a diver entering a cage and being lowered into the water. The water is then filled with bloody chum to attract the sharks, so the diver gets a front row seat to a thrashing shark. If the diver is lucky, the shark will bang his nose on the bars of the cage.
We've all watched Shark Week. We're all uncomfortably compelled to watch a shark's snout mere inches from the guy in the cage's face. Here's what you might not think about. The shark watches the divers in the cage, and they now associate the divers and the boats with food. They are able to swim up to 35 mph, and they can smell blood in the water for up to three miles. What happens when it follows the cage boat back to harbor (about 3 miles from where the chumming happens) looking for more food, where there is a swimming beach? And what about the divers that are in the water, not on a tour and in a cage?
The ecologists out studying the sharks are starting to notice an increase in aggressiveness and change in feeding patterns. I overheard a couple of the old fishermen talking about boat damage one of them had recently sustained from a shark that took a sample bite looking for chum. Turns out that sharks can't read, and don't know which boats are which.
I guess my point is this: as Americans, our thirst for the Gladiator's ring is leaving some damage in it's wake. Next time you sit down in front of the TV for a Shark Week marathon, please stop and think about how those shows come to be. And if you happen to change the channel when one of the cage shows comes on, I'll love you just a wee bit more.
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