Scuba Dive

When the trainer opened the gate between the pen and the ocean I thought: That dolphin is not coming back. It shot out of the pen like a bullet, heading straight out from shore, a dark, sleek shadow racing through the waves, disappearing in the distance. We boarded the boat and began the short, ten minute trip to our designated dive site. The trainer scanned the horizon for signs of the dolphin, the corners of his eyes pinched with the beginnings of worry. We spent the travel time gearing up so that we would be ready to jump into the water as soon as we arrived at the site.

The captain cut the motor and a mate lassoed a mooring ball cemented to the sea floor so that the boat anchor would not damage the reef. We shuffled to the back of the boat with the rest of the divers, prepared for entry into the ocean. Our eyes focused on the surface, looking for the dolphin, our designated dive buddy for the day. Its disappearance surprised crew and passengers alike, causing us all some concern. Suddenly, it leapt from the water at the stern of the boat, its silver-grey sides glistening in the sun. Its face held intelligent eyes and a smile that said “Hi! It took you long enough to get here!”

 
Our group of six divers and one divemaster eased into the water and descended to the ocean bottom, about thirty feet down. We knelt in a large circle on the sandy floor. The dolphin trainer swam in the water with, of course, the dolphin. The trainer had taught the mammal well; it kept an eye on its teacher, watching for queues. Flipper swam to each of us, allowing us to pet his back and interact. The dolphin was surprisingly strong, able to push even the largest diver around with ease.

 
Amazingly, we swam in open water with no barriers around us. At any point the dolphin could have simply left our group and never returned. At certain points the dolphin did disappear from sight, dashing out into the blue and then back again, perhaps resting or refocusing its efforts. The trainer patiently waited until the dolphin appeared ready to move onto the next person or activity. The dolphin seemed to enjoy the experience, having a purpose and freedom at the same time.

 
Sometimes humans come upon dolphins that have been injured or neglected from birth. Across the globe groups work to rehabilitate these animals, but not all can be returned safely to the open ocean because of the lasting effects of their injuries or their dependence on humans. The company we dove with had rehabilitated many dolphins, some of which needed to remain in captivity, destined to live out their lives with beings that walked instead of swam. Our dolphin was born in captivity, its parents rehabilitated from injuries, but too weak to survive in the wild.

 
I was excited to swim with the dolphin, but hoped it would be an educational experience, not just a circus act. I found a beautiful creature that had a job it clearly enjoyed with purposefulness that far exceeded swimming around a pen. And, it could have simply swam away, but didn’t. As the dolphin came close to me and inspected my mask, I almost forgot to breathe. It turned to make eye contact with me and I thought: The Bahamas are a great place to be.