Dolphin

"I'll put you on dolphin." Paul Humann, author of Reef Fish Identification, looked down the bar at Neal Watson, owner of Undersea Adventures, who just made the offer.

"Don't tell me to dive under weed lines; we've been doing that all fall and still don't have a photograph," Paul exclaimed.

"Nope," Neal continued, "not much weed this time of year. I'll take you guys out to the submarine tender buoy off Nassau. Can't guarantee anything, but we'll give it a try if you want."

"When do we go?" Paul asked enthusiastically.

Less than two weeks later Neal, Paul and I are heading west out of New Providence island in search of dolphin. We are guests of Frazier Nivens and Gene Kruger, owners of Nassau Dive Centre, who occasionally take customers to the remote site in the hope of spotting big fish. The giant buoy, located near the northern edge of an immense submerged canyon known as the Tongue of the Ocean, is tethered, by cable, to the sea floor over a thousand feet below.

During our one-hour boat ride, Frazier keeps reiterating, "Dolphin are not always about. If silky sharks move in, everything vanishes." To further temper our expectation he adds, "Even if we do find dolphin, the fish tend to make only a single pass after divers enter the water, then disappear."

Female Dolphin

Paul and I know from experience that locating a hard to find species, such as dolphin, is only a first step in attaining a good marine wildlife photograph. Next, the subject must be studied to gain an understanding of its nature. In a perfect world the shutter snaps precisely when the fish pauses momentarily in a distinctive three-quarter pose with fins flared. Of course, this must take place in a habitat typical to the species and void of suspended particles that cause unforgiving backscatter. When and if this occurs, the photographer must be waiting in an advantageous position with the proper focal length lens sharply focused, the fish squarely framed, the strobe positioned accurately, and the shutter speed and flash power synchronized to illuminate both the subject and background. After all this comes the most crucial factor – luck.

To enhance luck with the dolphins, we have a bucket of cut-bait to use as chum. We decide that Paul should slip into the water first to get off a couple of grab-shots in case the fish spook. The plan follows, that, if the chum does its job, I will join him a few minutes later. Between us we are carrying four cameras rigged with 15mm, 20mm, 28mm and 50mm lens.

Paul and I are geared up and ready as we approach the buoy. All eyes are on the water. Suddenly, just off the stern, a greenish, near-panic blur cuts beneath the surface, then another, and another. Dolphin! We are at step one. Within seconds, Paul and his cameras disappear underwater. Pumped, I pace on the platform. Paul's strobe flashes once, twice; I descend through rushing bubbles and pieces of mullet. The first thing I see is Paul glancing my way." Thank God he isn't shaking his fist at me," I think.

As soon as my eyes adjust to the sunlit, hundred-plus visibility, it is clear why he isn't upset – the dolphins are taking the chum. I whirl as a four-foot bull sails over my shoulder. Paul's strobe pops in the face of an approaching female. Two shadows rise fast from below. Paul's strobe flashes again. It doesn't take me long to grasp the situation – these are powerful, forever-hungry, open water fish in the middle of a feed. Show time!

Male Dolphin

The blunt-head bulls and the torpedo-headed females are mesmerizing, both in beauty and movement. The first impression is of color. Streaks of greens, yellows and blues iridesce from their broad razor-thin bodies. Tropical butterfly wings come to mind. As they gorge, they slow. Two bulls repeatedly sail within three feet, stop and pose. The six females, also bold, make unhurried passes as they pick up chum. Forty-five minutes later, and long out of film, we leave the water laughing, sling off tanks, and collapse on the deck with big, possum-eating grins.

© 1999 New World Publications. All rights reserved.