Follow-up to Kate's encounter

Just a couple thoughts on dolphins, in light of Kate's most recent post:

Dolphins are actually a lot like hyenas. They both live in fission-fusion societies, which means they live in a large social group (in the hyenas' case, a clan, which can have as many as 80 individuals) but spend most of their time in fluid subgroups. These subgroups can have anywhere from a lone individual to many, and the individuals may vary. So, for example, Morpheus (my favorite hyena) may spend this afternoon with Pan, Samburu, and Monroe (subgroup of 4), but hang alone in the evening (subgroup of 1). It's rare for an entire hyena clan to come together at the same time, despite them all being in the same social group. The same is true for dolphins—a social group may have a pretty clear territory in which everyone stays, but you're not likely to see the entire group together at once. So it's possible the various groups Kate saw were all part of the same larger group, and what she was seeing was multiple subgroups coming and going. (It's also possible that they were from different groups entirely, or even different species—interactions between different species of dolphins aren't uncommon.)

But the similarities don't stop there. Both dolphins and hyenas are extremely gregarious, as I just discussed, and they're each near the top of their respective food webs. They also both have very large brains relative to their body size (compared to most other mammals), making them adept at completing cognitive tasks (remember Kate's post on the puzzle box?).

In fact, one of my dissertation chapters was inspired by a phenomenon I saw in male bottlenose dolphins. Male dolphins form "pair bonds," which is basically science-talk for bromance. (Oh man, I am calling dibs RIGHT NOW on being the first person to ever publish a paper with "bromance" in the title—Nature reviewers, get your pens ready.) Two males will form a bond that's so strong that they spend as much time together as mother dolphins spend with their calves (re: almost all of it). They forage together, travel together, and even court the lay-dees together, giving a whole new dimension to the term wingman. So essentially, I'm asking if male hyenas do the same thing. Updates to follow on that one.

Anyway, given the similarities between dolphins and hyenas and the financial success of "swim with dolphins" programs worldwide, perhaps Fisi Camp is sitting on a goldmine here. Anyone interested in a "run around with hyenas" program? (Disclaimer regarding prepositional confusion: "around with" can also mean "from," as in, "for your life.")

Tales (tails?) from the seashore, part 2

When I learned that I could swim with dolphins at Kizingo, I thought I knew what to expect, since I “swam” with dolphins in the Bahamas about 10 years ago (and by “swam,” I mean I stood in a shallow enclosure with a bored captive dolphin and got my photo taken). But the dolphins around Kizingo were wild, interactive, and totally captivating…I had no idea what I was in for.

Our first two outings were thwarted by the elusive dolphins, which were nowhere to be seen. On the bright side, we snorkeled among stingrays, octopuses, whitetip sharks, and thousands of gorgeous tropical fish. We took a mid-day break on a rocky island where we had hermit crab races, marveled at giant clams, and dined on fresh oysters we cracked off the rocks. We returned only a bit frustrated by the dolphins’ absence....if I know anything about wild animals, it’s that they’re completely unpredictable. I held out hope.

I gave the dolphins another chance on my last morning at Kizingo. Less than 20 minutes off the beach, we spotted a group of 5 playing in the waves. Success! At that point, I knew I would encounter at least one dolphin on my trip, and that was enough. We quickly donned our fins and snorkels and took the plunge.


All of a sudden, it became clear that the dolphins weren’t the spectacle here…we were. In order to get – and keep - the dolphins’ attention, we were the performers. Since Kizingo doesn’t feed or attract the dolphins in any way (yay for responsible tourism), we had to rely on our creativity, and their curiosity, to bring them to us. We did flips, blew bubbles, and dove as deep as we could to engage them.

The dolphins really varied in their interest in us. Some groups were tremendously curious about these strange, snorkel-bearing interlopers. To others, we were about as exciting as a bunch of barnacles. The better we got at entertaining them, however, the more playful they became. They approached - sometimes just inches away - and peered at us, they swam alongside us, and they gracefully mimicked our awkward antics.

At one point, we were surrounded by about 30 dolphins from a few different pods. They were impossible to keep track of, since they were so much more agile underwater than we clumsy terrestrial mammals were, even with our fins and snorkels. Different groups would come in and out of sight, chasing each other, diving all the way to the bottom, then breaking the surface right next to us. You’d be playing “Simon Says” with one dolphin, and suddenly a group of four or five would swim up from behind and surround you.


Let me tell you, swimming with these guys isn’t an activity for wimps. It turns out being a dolphin (or at least pretending to) is UNBELIEVABLY hard work. A few times, I was breathing so hard – through a snorkel, mind you – that I thought I might have a heart attack. (But, what a way to go, right?) We kept getting in the boat, completely spent, then seeing a newly-arrived group and diving right back in. No matter how exhausted I was, I just couldn’t stay out of the water. I returned to Kizingo unbelievably sunburned, covered in flipper-blisters, and worn out to the point of comatose. But I still can’t stop smiling.


**Photos courtesy of Kizingo. Thanks!!