The Shark Whisperer (10 page)

“Smart question kid. We have several backup generators just in case.”

“What if the computers crash?” Hugh asked.

“We also have several backup computers. If you're interested, I can give you a tour sometime,” Mark offered.

Hugh nodded.

“Okay, let's check out some of our patients,” Ms. Sanchez said, walking to a nearby table that held a glass tank about three feet long and two feet wide.

The tank had a sandy bottom with clumps of sea grass scattered over it. Streaming upward, the grass blades resembled lime green strands of angel-hair pasta. About ten saucer-sized shellfish sat on the sand between the clumps of sea grass. Each had two fan-shaped fluted shells that were hinged together at one end.

“In case you've never seen them alive, these are scallops,” Ms. Sanchez told them.

One of the scallops suddenly shot off the bottom, crazily flapping its shell like a stapler gone mad. Little popping sounds came from its frenzied clapping. Then
the flapping slowed and the scallop sank back to the sand. Two more scallops jumped up, crazily clapped their shells, then fell back to the sand.

“What was that?” Sam asked.

“Oh, they're just excited to see us . . .
and
showing off their swimming skills,” Ms. Sanchez answered.

“I didn't know shellfish could swim,” Tristan said.

“Most, like clams and mussels, can't. But scallops can be speedy little suckers for short distances. It's a handy trick to get away if under attack.”

“How do they know we're here?” Sam asked.

“Okay everyone, get real close and look around the edges of their shells in the gap between the two halves. You should see a line of tiny bright blue spots, like a row of iridescent beads. Those are their eyes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes. These have about fifty or so. Some scallop species have up to a hundred eyes. But they don't see like we do. They can detect changes in the intensity or level of light. When we walked up, we cast a shadow on the tank so they knew we were here.”

“How come they're in there?” Sam asked.

“Notice anything different about any of them?” Ms. Sanchez responded.

The Seasquirts crowded around the tank peering in.

“Yeah,” Ryder said. “This one over here has, like, a shell that looks messed up and it's blue.”

“That's right,” Ms. Sanchez said, walking around to get a better look at the scallop. “Unfortunately, this
little gal swam straight into a rock and badly cracked her shell. We think she's farsighted in all fifty eyes. She keeps running into the tank's walls and other scallops. We brought her here after the accident, but the only way to save her was to replace one of her shells.”

“How come it's blue?” Tristan asked.

Ms. Sanchez chuckled. “Well, she's a bit of a diva and when we told her we'd have to replace the shell, she insisted on getting one that matched the color of her eyes.”

“Uh, how did she
ask
for a blue shell?”

“People who have a strong communication gene can tell what ocean creatures are thinking or feeling, and that includes scallops. Although with scallops and other shellfish it takes practice to develop the skill. Shellfish are notoriously uncommunicative, they keep their thoughts to them shells.”

The campers just stared at her.

“I know, I know. That was as bad as one of the director's jokes. I just couldn't resist. Maybe after some of the easier animals, a few of you might be able to tune in to what the scallops are feeling, but they are really tough. It took me years.”

“How come there are so many scallops in the tank? Are the others hurt too?” Sam asked.

“Would you want to be away from your friends and family while recuperating?” Ms Sanchez asked as she walked to another tank nearby. “Anyone know what this is?”

They all walked over and stared curiously through
the tank's glass walls. It also had a sand and sea grass bottom, but this time the only other thing inside was a slowly moving piece of plastic pipe about six inches across. Tristan looked closer. Something inside the pipe was dragging it. It resembled a giant mutant slug, like the ones they found in his mother's garden after it rained, only a hundred times bigger. It had a brown-spotted snout between two really freaky yellow eyes on stalks.

“Hard to recognize this one without its shell,” Ms Sanchez said. “It's a queen conch that was rescued from a market where it had been torn from its shell and put on display for sale—alive. It's using the PVC pipe as a home while we find it a new shell.”

“What's all the slimy stuff on the sand and glass?” Tristan asked, pointing to strings of transparent goo that were dripping down the tank's sides and spread out like trails in the sand.

“Conchs are quite slimy, they produce lots of mucus. They use it for protection, travel, and to leave trails for potential mates. Some of our campers also have excellent mucus deployment skills.”

“Yuck! I hope I don't have that,” Sam said.

Ryder had wandered away from the group and was now tapping the glass of one of the other tanks in the room. It was actually more like an aquarium condo complex than a simple fish tank. There were several tanks of varying size connected by transparent tubes. At one end, a cylindrical tower led up to another array of glass aquaria. Inside the tanks were seaweed, rocks,
a few glass jars, and an assortment of plastic play toys, including a colorful Rubik's Cube—each side was a solid color.

“Please do not tap on the glass, Mr. Jones,” Ms. Sanchez said, walking over to the array of tanks. “How would you like it if you were sleeping and someone kept knocking on the window to your bedroom? Darn annoying if you ask me.”

Ryder shrugged. “What's in there?”

“That's Old “six-arm” Jack—old as in old for an octopus. We think he's about three. That's a senior citizen for most of the cephalopod crowd. Lost two of his arms in a fight with a moray eel, and they just never grew back quite the same. So we decided to give Old Jack a nice place to live for the remainder of his days, kind of an octopus retirement home. Plus he helps us teach about camouflage techniques, how to communicate with sea creatures, and about having good undersea manners.”

“Where is he anyways?” Rosina asked. “Are you sure he's in there?”

“Oh, that sly guy is in there all right. Octopuses are extremely clever creatures. They're the brainiacs of the sea; they have the biggest brain-to-body-size of all the invertebrates. They are also excellent contortionists. They can squeeze into and through just about anything—real undersea Houdinis.”

“Here he is!' Hugh said, pointing to a pickle jar in the corner of one of the tanks.

Tristan jogged over. Sure enough, there was a large
octopus squeezed into the jar with one big eye looking out at them. A suckered arm slowly slithered from the jar, then several more arms wiggled their way out. Next to emerge was his head: an enormous, bulbous Mega-mind head compared to the rest of the octopus's body. Old Jack stared at Hugh for a moment, then stood up on his six arms and swaggered across the tank, like a gunfighter pacing off for a duel.

The Seasquirts crowded around to watch, dumbfounded, as the octopus strutted his stuff. Hugh walked alongside the six-armed creature, looking at one of the animal's large eyes. The octopus stopped, turned to face the boy, and a rainbow of color passed over his light-tan body, like a colorful cloud drifting by in the sky. Hugh put his hand gently up to the tank. Moments later, to all of their surprise, Old Jack transformed into an excellent replica of Hugh's hand, with the same color, shape, and even texture. Hugh jerked his hand away. The octopus instantly morphed back to his octopus shape and turned bright red.

“Well, maybe we've just found one of your talents, Hugh,” Ms. Sanchez said, patting him on the shoulder.

The other kids stood with their mouths agape. Ryder put his hand on the tank like Hugh, but the octopus completely ignored it.

“Octopuses, like squid and cuttlefish, are truly amazing creatures,” Ms. Sanchez explained. “Not only are they smart and have excellent vision, but they are also the world's best quick change artists. They can change color and mimic their surroundings lightning
fast, even quicker than a chameleon. They use camouflage to hide from predators and, as we just saw, communicate. Did you notice the wave of color that passed over Jack's skin a few moments ago?”

They all nodded.

“That is a classic color pattern they use to show interest or aggression. Here, I'd say it was interest.”

“What about when it turned red?” Hugh asked.

“That's just showing off. Sea creatures are very proud of their skills.”

As if on cue, the octopus crawled onto a rock that was covered with algae. Within seconds he seemed to vanish right before their eyes.

“Hey, where'd he go?” Rosina said.

“Look closely, he's right there on the rock.”

The octopus turned pale white. Jack had been in the same spot all along, an exact mimic of the color and texture of the algae-covered rock.

“Now Hugh, let's see if I'm right. Come on over here and rinse your hand with seawater from this squirt bottle.”

Hugh went as pale as the octopus.

“No problem, Hugh. You can do this,” Tristan whispered.

“Okay, now stick your hand into the tank with Old Jack,” Ms. Sanchez instructed.

“Uh, don't octopus have wicked sharp beaks that they use to tear things apart with, like flesh and bone?” Hugh asked nervously.

“Yes, they do, so do squids. But believe me your
hand does not smell or look like good octopus food. Jack is not going to bite you. Don't be afraid.”

Rosina pushed Hugh toward the tank. “Yeah, don't be such a wimp.”

Hugh eyed the octopus warily and put a few fingers into the water.”

“All the way,” Ms. Sanchez encouraged.

Hugh pushed his trembling hand further in until his fingertips touched the sand. The octopus hopped off the rock.

“Steady,” Ms. Sanchez said. “You're fine. Think about saying, ‘Hello Jack, nice to meet you.' He can be a bit formal.”

From the way Hugh was shaking, Tristan figured it would take all his courage just to keep his hand in the tank. He seriously doubted Hugh was thinking very much about good manners or having a polite conversation.

The octopus slowly extended two of his arms. When just the very tips were touching Hugh's fingers, the creature turned brown with blue polka dots. Hugh smiled. Then an even more shocking thing happened. Hugh's hand also turned brown with blue polka dots.

“What the heck?” Tristan exclaimed.

Hugh jumped back, pulled his hand from the tank, and stared at his now very normal colored appendage.

“Just as I suspected,” Ms. Sanchez said. “Looks like you might have the double Cs—camouflage
and
communication skills.”

“Me, really?” Hugh said, still looking at his hand.

“Yes, this is a combination we see sometimes. You'll need to work on it, but I bet in seawater you'll be an excellent mimic. Your skin will have the ability to change color and maybe even texture when you're in the ocean.”

“That is
sooo
awesome,” Tristan said to Hugh.

“Yeah,” Sam added.

“I guess,” Hugh said.

“What do you think Jack is feeling?” Ms. Sanchez asked Hugh, pointing to the octopus who was now reaching one arm out of the tank toward the boy.

“I think he wants me to put my hand back in there.”

Hugh took a deep breath and stuck his hand back into the tank. The octopus crawled over to him, a wave of gray passing over its body. A shadow seemed to wash over Hugh's hand and he turned it palm up with his fingers open. The octopus climbed onto Hugh's hand then curled his six arms gently around the boy's forearm.

“I, I can feel his suckers. And I think he's telling me to relax.”

“Very good, Hugh,” Ms. Sanchez said. “Okay, now think, ‘Goodbye,' and tell Jack we need to move on. In a nice, polite way of course.”

Hugh closed his eyes, clearly concentrating. Jack slowly unwrapped his arms and hesitantly slid back to the pickle jar.

“We'll be back, Jack. Don't worry. Especially Hugh here,” their teacher said. “Oh, one more thing before we go.”

Ms. Sanchez whispered something to Hugh. He smiled and then stuck his hand into another of Jack's tanks to pick up the Rubik's cube. He twisted it so that the colors were once again mixed up on each side and put it back into the tank. “Good luck.”

Ms. Sanchez led the group around the room looking into the different tanks, explaining what was in each and why. One aquarium contained two white-striped orange clownfish and a sea anemone with long, pink-tipped green tentacles. One of the clownfish was nestled in the anemone's arms, while the other swam skittishly back and forth on the other side of the tank.