Common Dolphins Display Uncommon Intelligence

[HenryC]

Florida Wildlife, May-Jun/'05

Anyone who lives in coastal Florida or has visited our beaches for any length of time at all has seen them.  They are everywhere where there is saltwater: estuaries, bays, even far offshore where the water turns from pastel green to inky blue.  They are the dolphins or porpoises, specifically, the Atlantic Bottlenose Dolphin, Tursiops truncatus.  The dolphin is a large animal
between 6 and 12 feet long weighing anywhere from 200 to1300 pounds and its sleek gray body and smiling face are familiar to children everywhere from movies, television and marine exhibits. 
But visitors to our state may be surprised to learn just how common these magnificent creatures are in our waters.  You probably won't see a dolphin every time you go to the beach but if you stay there long enough you will almost certainly see one eventually.  The sight is a common one off our shores, a quick roll and a flash of dorsal fin as they break the surface to breathe, usually more than one from their habit of traveling in small family groups.  At first they may be mistaken for sharks, but soon, the distinctive roll, often coordinated with that of their companions, becomes familiar and instantly recognizable.  They can be seen at the beach, from fishing piers, from pleasure cruisers and tour boats.  Sportsmen night fishing hear their sighs as they exhale in the dark nearby, others ride the bow waves of yachts and fishing craft.  Sometimes, if you're very lucky, you might even see one leaping clear out of the water in what can only be an expression of sheer joy. For those of us fortunate enough to live in the Sunshine State and particularly those who spend a lot of time by the water, they are common enough that they scarcely merit a second thought.

However, to really get a close look at these wonderful animals, you have to go out on the water after them.  In my student days I spent a lot of time sailing around the central Gulf coast.  There seemed to be something about a small boat without a motor that attracted the dolphins.  It was not unusual to see them, usually in small groups of a half-dozen or so, near my little sailboat, sometimes following it.  A few times they even came close enough to roll over and look up at me as I stared back at them; eye to eye contact with a being from another world.  There was no doubt in my mind that they had some understanding, and plenty of curiosity, about me;  I am convinced they were as interested as I was about them.  They didn't always come by, sometimes I could see them in the distance, hurrying away on some mysterious errand of their own.  But I soon learned I could get their attention and they are curious creatures, even downright nosy.

I took to carrying a hammer in my boat, and every time I saw dolphins I would tap it against the centerboard.  I knew they had excellent hearing and, sure enough, more often than not, when they heard the rapping they would change course and come over to take a look.  They usually stayed around for a few minutes, presumably checking me out, before they continued on their way.  Sometimes they would follow me for a while, but I'm sure my little sloop was too slow for them and they would soon lose interest and resume their original course.  When I sailed at night  I could sometimes hear them out in the dark: the sudden rush of exhaled air like the sigh of a dragon.  It would have been scary if I didn't know what it was but I knew it was my friends coming over to say hello.  It was a sound that made you feel secure, and honored  to share the sea with them. 

The great intelligence and playful nature of dolphins has been well-documented but I once had the good fortune to experience it first-hand under circumstances that left no doubt as to their intelligence and ability to communicate with one another.  One sunny and windy fall day I was sailing with my girlfriend about two miles offshore, with no land nearby.  We had the water all to ourselves.  The wind was pushing the boat at a fair clip, and I was relaxed, sitting on a cushion in the bilge and steering.  My girl was up forward, facing me.  We had been sailing this way for quite some time, talking and enjoying the day, and the little boat was driving forward at pretty much its top speed.  It was the kind of day that stays in your memory for years.   Suddenly, with absolutely no warning, two dolphins simultaneously broke the surface on either side of us and flew through the air in long, graceful arcs.  There was one on each side, scarcely ten feet away, and they flew  alongside us as we drove through the sea.  It could only have taken a split second, but time seemed to stop; I could see them suspended in mid-air, their gray, shiny skins dripping water, those mysterious enigmatic smiles on their faces. Their leap was astonishing, they were higher above the water than they were long, probably about ten feet at the top of their arc. There could be no doubt that they had somehow planned and coordinated the maneuver and had managed to sneak up on us without either of us seeing them approach.  They both entered the water at the same split second, well ahead of the boat, and immediately vanished.  We looked all over for them but there was no sign of them.  There is no question that it was a deliberate act, the dolphin equivalent of a good-natured joke. But I was to later see even more evidence of their rough sense of humor...

On long weekends I would often sail the boat to a small island several miles offshore and spend some time camping and fishing.  My boat could easily carry all the gear I would need to spend several days on the island; so I would anchor it in a sheltered cove at one end of the key, wade ashore and set up my tent on the beach nearby.  One morning after breakfast I went for a walk down the beach to make sure the boat was still secure.  I was walking down a narrow spit of land that hooked to one side where my boat lay anchored in the shallows.  On the other side of the spit was a deep water channel cut by the tides so that at the end of the curving spit, I was at the tip of a peninsula of sorts, almost completely surrounded by water. 

In the shallows to my left, quite close to where my boat swung on its anchor,  I could make out a large dolphin, so large his dorsal fin and most of his back were out of the water.  He was lying very still and at first I feared he might be hurt.  On my right, in the channel, I could see another dolphin, jumping and leaping in the deep water and making a terrible racket, belly-flopping in the water and repeatedly slapping the sea with his flukes.  Just as the channel porpoise rounded the point, his (or her?) companion suddenly rushed out through the shallows making a great commotion in water that must have been barely deep enough to support the animal.  From my vantage point I could watch both of them at the same time and it was clear to me that they were both aware of each other's presence, perhaps even working together.  They were going to meet just off the end of the tip where I was standing.  The one on my left rushed into deeper water while the one in the channel dove and, for a moment, they both disappeared.

For a brief time, everything was quiet, then both of them broke the surface at the same moment, the one on the left holding a struggling fish (a two-foot snook!) in its jaws.  The porpoise took his prize, and with a quick snap of his back, threw the poor fish high into the air where it tumbled end over end like a stick thrown at a dog.  The fish reached the top of his arc, and still tumbling and thrashing, came straight down to where the dolphin had quickly positioned himself directly beneath it.  He caught the snook in mid-air and both of them dove immediately from sight.

It was a spectacular performance, and I feel extraordinarily privileged to have been able to witness it.  I will never forget that moment for as long as I live.

[TedStrat]

Great story Henry. I sail up north (Long Island) and don't get to see that - only occasionally have spotted dolphins off the beach over the years.  I've surfed a lot in hatteras years ago and remember the daily sightings and frolicking they did in the waves. My dream is to take the eclipse down to the chesapeak someday and hopefully sail around and experience what you described. Thanks for sharing

[HenryC]

Don't put it off, Ted.   Its already later than you think and "time and tide", etc., etc.
Go for it.

[TedStrat]

Right you are Henry ....."someday" is now here for me at 56! Thanks for the push