Mother Nature's Way

A shark strikes a dolphin in Hanalei Bay

The quiet beauty of a leisurely Friday on the shore of Hanalei Bay was suddenly and unexpectedly disrupted yesterday by a reminder from Mother Nature.

She refuses to comply with our thoughtful human considerations of social distancing, quarantine and all the rest of the protocol of living during a world-wide pandemic.

Although you can bet she's paying attention. Her children of the sea no doubt have noticed a quieter ocean. I'm sure they sense a difference, not having their kingdom ruffled by screams and shouts of frolicking humans near shore.

They likely appreciate the paucity of sea-going cruise vessels that appear to us like big buildings on water. In the vastness of the mighty Pacific, these ships must seem rather minuscule compared to what's going on in deep waters. Yet their approach to harbors must wreak havoc.

Now that the good vibrations we create for ourselves have receded, the ocean inhabitants must feel somewhat liberated, as though their neighborhood has expanded, or maybe returned.

Itching to break out from our overly familiar four same walls, we decided to walk the long strand of beach at Hanalei Bay. Walking is allowed. Spreading out a space on the sand or underneath the shade of an ironwood tree is not. Walkers may also take dips into the pristine water, now as clear as it was during my first visit in 1968.

The beach runs about one mile in length. A westerly breeze kept us from over-heating in the near 80-degree air. Still, a dunk in the bay was a mandatory refresher before heading home.

"What's that floating in the water?" asked Barbara.

"I thought it was an over-turned foam board, but it looks like a dolphin."

"You sure it's not a shark? Look at that fin. It's alone. Dolphins swim in pods."

There was no one nearby to ask for confirmation. We were alone with the floating creature with a dorsal fin pointed skyward.

We exited the water and stepped on the beach as a young couple walked by and entered the water.

Do they see the dolphin? I wondered. Should I point it out to them?

Soon it was obvious that they did not at first notice the sea creature. When the guy did spot it, he began to move toward it. Some people want to get as close to sea animals as possible. I've seen this in Santa Cruz when whales appear in Monterey Bay.

It's a wonder that more people don't drown. Most who do are visitors unfamiliar with the ocean.

Sensing the guy's approach, the dolphin swam slowly away from him in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, breaking the calm hula of gently swaying water, the dolphin was thrown above the surface amidst a shower of splashing red-tinged sea water. A cold-blooded shark had taken the warm-blooded mammal.

In less than 20-seconds the skirmish was over and a pool of blood spread as though gallons of red paint had been spilled into the blue water. It was as if we were watching a National Geographic special live and in person!

The couple scurried to the beach. Barbara watched. I grabbed my iPhone to get a photo.

It became obvious that the shark had one target in mind. It did have a choice. A lone swimmer had passed through just before the attack.

When a lifeguard arrived in a dune-buggy, he said it was likely the same dolphin that had been spotted earlier outside the bay.

"It already had a few chunks taken out of it." He guessed the predator to be a bottom-swimming Hammerhead Shark.

Following the attack, I watched the wounded dolphin swim slowly toward deeper water. The satisfied shark split the scene without a ripple.