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Dolphin Watch
Phantoms of the oysters
By ANN WEAVER
Article published on Thursday, Aug. 9, 2007
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![[Image]](/content_images/080907_out-01.jpg) |
| Photo by ANN WEAVER |
| By definition, photos of phantom dolphins are rare. This is an equally rare picture of a skimmer skimming for breakfast in the mid-morning hours. |
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Do dolphins live in pods, schools, or groups? All these terms apply. That there are several names for dolphin groups means we usually find dolphins in groups. If you see one dolphin at sea, look around. There are probably more.
What about the contradiction? Are dolphins ever alone out there?
Recently, Capt John Heidemann and I set out on the satisfying seas of a glassy summer morning. The winds were low. When the boat was moving, the weather was splendid. We rounded a bend on the study route when John reported, “dolphin in the distance”.
We slowly approached an oyster bed near the VA Hospital that is particularly treacherous for naïve boaters. We waited for the dolphin’s next surface.
Eventually, the small fin surfaced again. Okay, there is a dolphin in these glassy seas. We waited some more. That’s what you do out there.
But that was it. We searched for several minutes. One small dolphin, went the data, sighted twice. No pictures. We continued on.
It was an example of the dashing young dolphins we call the phantoms. Phantoms are dolphins you see once or twice and then they’re gone.
It can take time to realize that some behaviors constitute a species-typical pattern. So it may be with phantoms.
Our first exposure to Florida phantoms took place in our southern study route where a deep channel, carved compliments of the surging and sucking currents of the Gulf of Mexico, takes a wide turn into a broad bay. For several surveys running, we’d find an apparently lone dolphin there. In deep waters, dolphins can be non-visible for periods of time, which makes sense. They’re exploring the depths.
But they have to surface to breathe sometime.
We’ve circled this nautical bend endlessly, waiting for the elusive fin to reappear so we could grab a picture for the record. Coastal homeowners watching from windows undoubtedly wonder what we’re doing.
Only the pattern surfaced: Now you see it, now you don’t. John finally summed it up as, “It’s the phantom.” With a term for the behavior, let’s try and explain it.
Most though not all phantoms exhibit splash-and-dash behavior. You see a splash. But they’ve dashed. The term was inspired by friend and Webmaster Mary McGuire Huebsch’s tales of inadvisable teen capers called dine-and-dash.
There are a couple of versions of splash-and-dash behavior. During dolphin watches from the flying bridge of our research yacht in the Bahamas, we’d occasionally see a lone dolphin shoot by, veer to swing by the boat but continue without pause.
Then there’s the heart-stopping leap just off the bow, whereupon you do the maritime version of slamming on your brakes. My cat Chrissie used the same behavior to invite me to play: spring across my path out of nowhere. You could neither miss it nor ignore the invitation. At sea, it’s particularly poignant that you never see the leaping dolphin again, especially if any of your passengers were not ready for a sudden stop.
For some months running in 2005, a phantom did its vanishing act over the oyster bed near the VA Hospital we saw on the recent survey. At the time, we kept what pictures it gave and waited for future clarification. Eventually, we recognized the phantom as Oyster, named for the two-faced shellfish.
The following year, a phantom began springing across our path off a lovely mangrove island to the north. Each performed a pretty but dangerous leap right off the bow and then never re-surfaced again. Teasing isn’t always intentional.
That’s the problem. By definition, phantom clues are scarce.
As far as we can tell, they’re alone. That’s always a risky proposal in the dolphin behavior business.
Most are small. Perhaps phantoms are weaned juveniles now on their own. Given the considerable risk of shark attack (38% of nearby Sarasota dolphins bear shark scars), being small and being alone can’t be a good idea.
What strikes me is that calves with mothers are actually boat friendly. Most are bold about boats. Ah, but mother is nearby. She’s the security they need to explore. A couple of years later, previously approachable mother-calf pairs aren’t necessarily receptive. They can require as much care as bulls when it comes to diplomatically closing the distance to collect the pictures upon which we base population estimates.
Then too, young adults alternate between solitary and social time, working alone or swimming about in motley groups of dolphins the same size.
Maybe phantoms are a developmental phase between dependent calves and young adults. What adolescent isn’t ambivalent?
Can we find out? Phantoms are fleet of foot. We rarely get a picture. If we do, they’re rarely definitive. Either the fin is clean (unidentifiable) or blurred. Few provide the details that allow us to distinguish 200 individual dolphins.
The mystery that surfaced that glassy summer morning deepens. We’re used to the pattern. How treacherous are the waters of my phantom speculations?
Dr. Weaver studies wild dolphins under federal permit GA1088-1815, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. Send her an e-mail at acweaver@tampabay.rr.com or visit www.dazzlingdolphins.com.
RELATED STORIES
Credible Curiosity, Snorting the Engine, Attack of the Oyster, Running with the Bulls, Breathless, Winning at Weaning, Vital Signs, Oyster’s Pearl, Like Dolphins, like Gorillas, like Us, Steve and the Shark, The Old Neighborhood
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Article published on Thursday, Aug. 9, 2007
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