Sea Urchin in Biscayne Bay |
This ocean discovery is the heartwarming kind, as children and adults alike explore firsthand the world that they can't exist in, a world that may be blocks from home or miles from it. It doesn't matter whether they are Kama'aina Keiki (Hawaiian native children) or land locked Mid-western kids like I once was. There is the same intensity of focus as they wait for creatures of the deep to swim within reach of their fingertips. Working as a Roving Naturalist at Brookfield Zoo's Stingray Bay, one of the most rewarding sights was not the giggling, half frightened youngsters who jumped back every time they felt the slightly slimy slip of stingray flesh (although that had its rewards, of course). It was the sight of young ones flat out on their bellies, arms deep in the pool, faces solemn. These were the ones who had their sleeves rolled all the way up, heeding my chipper "you don't want to smell like stingrays all day!" and the more serious caution that "your clothes have been washed with chemicals that could irritate the ray's sensitive senses." It's the latter these kids followed. It was clear even then that they would be content to smell of stingray--of ocean, to be exact-- for eternity. Since I echo that sentiment, I loved these children for their love, for the intensity that had them hungrily tracking the circular flight of the stingrays around the pool, that had the most amazing look of awe and excitement flashing on their face before their eyes sought the next target of their addiction. Their moms would literally drag them away, saying "you're soaked" in various tones of anger, exasperation and affection. But those kids also listened as I spoke of ways to protect the ocean and its creatures, and they sought out the Seafood Watch cards we had waiting by the door.
Feeding Cownose Rays at Brookfield Zoo |
All it takes is the right approach.
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