“We might not see any sharks today.” These words from Neil Hammerschlag echoed in my mind as we set out, a mantra against disappointment. Joining a research trip, I witnessed the crew’s rituals – bait-kissing, chanting “Shark!” – all to summon good fortune. My personal ritual was bracing myself for shark-less waters.
Then, she appeared: a formidable female bull shark. As researchers guided her boat-side, I peered into the Atlantic’s clarity. Below, she danced, a powerful pirouette against the line’s restraint. What felt like eternity – mere minutes, likely – unfolded as this creature, so often demonized, displayed a raw magnificence.
My breath hitched. I adjusted my hat and sunglasses, a shield for my awe-struck eyes. She was truly magnificent.
Sharks are clad in dermal denticles, nature’s “tiny skin teeth,” akin to sandpaper, pumice, or a cat’s rough tongue. These “teeth” streamline their aquatic motion and shield them from parasites and predators. Like their infamous teeth rows, these scales can easily abrade human skin.
Shark researcher Neil Hammerschlag, director of the R.J. Dunlap Marine Conservation Program, bears a living testament to shark encounters – a tapestry of scars from years studying these animals. On a recent shark tagging expedition led by Hammerschlag, I joined twenty guests in a hands-on experience, touching sharks without incident.
These educational trips blend research with public outreach, offering non-scientists intimate encounters with these feared predators. For some, it’s realizing a marine biology dream. For others, it’s confronting a primal fear of sharks.
Participants become citizen scientists, involved in the research. Each captured shark – increasingly rare in our oceans – undergoes a “work-up.” Volunteers measure, biopsy, and fin-clip.
Twice, I assisted with female bull sharks, apex predators commanding Florida’s waters and anxieties. My chosen task? The nictitating membrane test: a gentle squirt of seawater into the shark’s eye to observe the “eyelid” reflex, gauging stress levels pre and post-procedure.
I chose this task precisely because it was unpopular and required direct eye contact, a moment of intense connection.
Hammerschlag prioritizes safety. The tagging operation is a well-oiled machine, scientists and students moving with practiced precision, their directives clear amidst the data collection aimed at unveiling “the secret lives of sharks.”
This isn’t an aquarium show; these are wild creatures in their domain. Sharks are not “cold-blooded killers” – a label that diminishes their vital ecological role. They are apex predators honed by millennia of evolution. A healthy respect, even a touch of intimidation, is warranted.
So, what does it feel like to pet a live shark? Humbling.
