At Sea

“The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea / in a beautiful pea green boat.”

I’m at sea and have seen neither an owl nor a pussycat. The boat, ship rather, is the color ships are wont to be—white with a beautiful sea blue trim.

I’m not exactly on an eco tour, but there are opportunities for nature encounters. One occurred with sting rays that could seem as affectionate as the owl and pussycat. It was in the shallows of the Cayman Islands, where virtual banks float in tax-free waters. In the deep deep seas, the water is royal blue. In the white sand shallows, where the rays, linger, it modulates to translucent jade.

There people—retirees, teenagers, couples—mingle with sting rays who brush by their guests. For over 30 years, the rays have been fed tidbits that that escaped the anti pasta tray to become sashimi for sea life. Under the influence of wildlife biologists, I remain suspicious of feeding wild animals, of encouraging a dependence on wet-suited adventurers. Or maybe it’s co-dependence. Those in the water thrilled at being brushed by water wings. In the name of research, I joined them. In the rough seas, I had trouble balancing on the shifting sands—treading water would have kicked up too much sand. Others around me would hold baby squid just under the stingray so the animal could hoover it in. I tried, with my thumb tucked in as directed, but the ray still got a sample of finger—leaving a nip mark that in a few hours disappeared from view, like the ocean floor.

The stinger attached to the top of the tail can cause serious harm, but as long as you don’t lunge for eyes or spine, the rays are content to flutter by, held in orbit by the floating bait bucket.

“They’re like puppies,” someone said. Eager for attention, amenable to being stroked. But puppies they aren’t.  Maybe the rays’ tolerance and seeming good nature argues for keeping lovely and clear their pea green home.