Swimming with Vegan Sharks

Swimming with Vegan Sharks

 

Did you know that there are vegan sharks? They’re quite rare, and they only swim in shallow waters, like off the coast of Cornwall and the Hebrides. They’re generally very small for sharks, as you would think, so they form fringe-herds, a few of them sticking very close together for safety and comfort. I’m sure you’re thinking, whoever heard of sharks needing comfort, but then again, whoever heard of vegan sharks in the first place?

        These sharks eat a very strict diet of seaweed, kelp and the occasional ice cream thrown into the water by some tourist on a tour boat (no, of course most ice cream isn’t vegan, but sharks think it is, having no concept of dairy, and I’d rather you didn’t spoil it for them). They’re a zealous lot, determined not to cause harm to any of their fellow sea-dwellers. Sometimes, they’ll fast for days in penance if they even accidentally swallow a pilchard. They’ve even been known to punish themselves by swimming down to the bottom of the seabed and bashing their snout against any rocks they find there.

        So, as you can see, they’re perfectly safe to swim with. I had a friend many years ago who lived in Portloe who used to do it all the time. She’d swim until she found a lone vegan shark (they’re generally a lot smaller than carnivorous sharks, often with a few scratches on their snouts), and then she’d happily swim alongside them. They hated it, of course, and tried to outswim her, but they don’t have much strength and can’t keep it up for long. It’s cruel really, but she’d poke them, just for the fun of it. They’d give a little jump and turn to look at her with a wide-eyed what-the-hell-do-you-think-you’re-doing expression and try again to outswim her. She got a real kick out of this, my friend, and next she’d give them a harder poke, a sharp jab right in their gills. She wasn’t such a nice girl, really. We haven’t spoken in ages and I’m even thinking about unfriending her on Facebook. But there was this one occasion I remember her telling me about, a day when she was in a particularly vile mood. She got them sometimes, these unexplainable blind rages when everyone would go out of their way to avoid her. When she was in a temper like that, there was nothing to be done, nothing except for her to go swimming and find a vegan shark to bully.

        Off she went to the beach, as she so often did, and within half an hour of angry swimming she found one, a small, young-looking vegan shark. She swam right up close to it and prodded it roughly in the side. The shark looked frightened, dipping its nose and wiggling its tail in an attempt to speed up. She poked harder, hooking one of her fingers into its gills and the poor thing looked even more terrified. Then, I don’t know, she got a bit cocky, and she decided she’d put her hand in its mouth. So, she did, she darted in front of it, reached out and forced her fist between four rows of teeth, right up to the elbow. It gagged. Bubbles and bits of seaweed came up.

 “Urrgh,” the vegan shark said when it had stopped spluttering. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

My friend was flummoxed. In all her time of bothering sharks, she’d never had one swear at her. It just goes to show, you can’t make any assumptions about vegan sharks.

 I don’t know, she tried to say, but only bubbles came out of her mouth and the cold, salty water stung her throat. The shark seemed to understand, though.

“Leave me alone,” it told her, and swam away. My friend stayed where she was for a moment, treading water. She should have just gone home then, really, but you know what she’s like by now, and of course she had to keep pushing it.

        The shark had managed to get a surprising distance away. She could see its fuzzy outline moving in front of her, and she could hear it humming. She caught up with it and this time she kicked it, digging her toes hard into its pale underbelly. This time, the shark swerved to meet her head on, and shoved her. It was stronger than it looked.

“What?” it demanded, “What do you want with me? Is there anything at all that you actually want? Or is it just that I’m here in this ocean and so are you, and that’s reason enough for you to push me around? Tell me, is this making you feel better? How about now? When will that be, have you any idea? While you’re pondering that, should I just wait here? Tell me, what is it about me that gets under your skin? Is it the fact that I don’t even try to fit in? I’m going to tell you something now; listen, or at least try: it’s you who is swimming against the tide, my friend, and not I.”

        My friend didn’t know what to make of all this soapbox talk. She wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. She swam away, and I think she’s working for the council now, or something like that.

Image: Alex Rose - unsplash.com/@alexrose / alexroserenaissance.squarespace.com