Now for a Limited Time Only in Hong Kong--Pink Dolphins

                                                
                                                        



Copyright: Ken Fung, Hong Kong Dolphinwatch



Copyright: Ken Fung, Hong Kong Dolphinwatch

As you can see from the photos, there are bubblegum pink dolphins on this planet. Some live in the Amazon. Some live in China. The latter are known as Chinese white dolphins, (because they can be white or pink), and they are rare. Only about 2000 are thought to inhabit the South China Sea. Those found in Hong Kong reside only in the western waters around Lantau Island where I also live. And yes, I have seen them.

An ad I came across recently for a popular Lantau dolphin boat cruise could have been written by a side show carny, "Be amazed! These dolphins, found between Hong Kong and Macau, live within a few km of one of the world's busiest shopping centers and most densely populated urban areas."

 But maybe not for long. Back in 2000, the number in Hong Kong was estimated at 213. Chinese white dolphins belong to the Indo-Pacific humpback dolphin (Sousa chinesis) species. Researcher T. Jefferson optimistically wrote in Wildlife Monographs, "Overall, the population of humpbacked dolphins that occurs in Hong Kong waters appears viable and should be able to survive with appropriate conservation efforts."


On June 6, 2012, The South China Morning Post reported that Hong Kong's pink dolphin numbers have gone down almost continuously during the past decade. There are now only 78.



Are the dolphins leaving because they don't like shopping? According to the Hong Kong Dolphin Conservation Society (http://www.hkdcs.org/), perhaps indirectly. Lots of shopping means more people who require boat and high speed ferry transport to the stores on the various islands that comprise Hong Kong. This traffic makes so much underwater noise, the dolphins can no longer cope.

The Conservation Society chairman, Dr. Samuel Hung Ka-yiu says, "Dolphins are acoustic creatures that rely on sound to detect their environment, search for food, and communicate." Since dolphin moms and babies maintain contact by communicating through sound, "the babies may wander off and get lost when it's too noisy."



We humans don't hear well underwater. When we submerge our heads, the ocean seems silent because our ears are designed to hear in air and have little sensitivity to the medium of water. Dolphins on the other hand, hear very well underwater. Hearing is their most finely tuned sense.

 Perhaps the following tale helps illustrate. Not long ago, the school where I work as a counselor in Hong Kong had a talent show. During the month prior to the event, students aspiring to perform as heavy metal rockers amped up and played in the music practice rooms directly beneath my office.  The walls are thin in my school, so for weeks, items danced around on my desk and the windows of my office rattled. I could not hear my phone when it rang.

 In order to get away from the sound, sometimes I went someplace quieter--like to the train station across the street. Unfortunately, escaping to the station is not an option for dolphins.

 Like my office, not only are the territorial waters of Hong Kong loud, they are highly contaminated with heavy metal. The difference being that the metal is mercury. Unlike my office, there is also sewage waste discharge. Hong Kong in recent years is said to have dumped 120 million gallons of semi-processed sewage a day into its harbors.

 Having such total disregard for dolphins is odd considering that human beings claim to like them.  Nor is this affection a recent fad. Over the centuries, many friendly and helpful deeds have been ascribed to the creatures.

Stories of dolphins protecting humans from sharks, preventing struggling human swimmers from drowning, and rescuing sailors or ships in trouble, recur often in the folklore of many cultures, including that of the Chinese.

Some of the earliest stories about dolphins appear in Greek mythology. Apollo, for example, was said to have assumed the form of a dolphin when he founded the oracle at Delphi. Along with the Romans, the Greeks considered dolphins to be messengers of the gods. The ancients thought it was a terrible crime to harm a dolphin--one that brought dreadful luck to the human who had committed it.

It wasn't just the ancients who thought this. A more modern and documented tale of Pelorus Jack describes a Risso dolphin who, in the early twentieth century, guided ships through a dangerous stretch of the Cook Strait at the northern tip of the South Island of New Zealand. As soon as ships arrived in the treacherous water, Jack appeared and guided the vessels through. He departed once the ships had made safe passage.

One day in 1904, a drunk passenger on the SS Penguin shot at Jack as the dolphin was guiding it.  Fortunately, Jack was unharmed and fled. Weeks later, he appeared and resumed guiding ships. But Jack refused to guide the Penguin ever again and in 1909, it wrecked in the rocky strait.

So what is to become of us humans--we who kill dolphins on a grand scale, including the amazing bubble gum pink ones? The gods don't like it when their messengers are killed.









Goodbye, Joe

I saw Joe Costanza in front of Mrs. Field’s Cookies in the train station near my work. It was only for a moment but it was long enough for him to look at me, nod, and smile. Then he disappeared into the crowd.

That was in February. Joe had died in January.

I wasn’t surprised to see him. He always had a sweet tooth.

Joe was a remarkable friend: generous, kind, and funny. A gentle man, he had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what to say to defuse tense situations or to take the pain out of sad ones.  He was an empathic listener who loved people. 


A Parkinson's diagnosis made him even more eager to meet as many people as he possibly could. His cross country bike trip in July, 2010, shortly after his diagnosis, raised money for Parkinson's research. It was a testament to his love of people, generosity, and great strength of will. 

This past October, Joe and his wife Linda visited Hong Kong where I now live. The speed, noise, and crowds of the city were a bit overwhelming for Joe. He enjoyed the quieter island of Lantau where my husband and I reside. One day, we all travelled further south on Lantau to the sleepy fishing village of Tai O to see rare pink dolphins. We hopped aboard a small fishing/tour boat and sped out to open water. And there the dolphins were, waiting for us. Joe was delighted and grinned ear to ear like a big kid. The dolphins smiled back. All was right with the world that day.

Thanks, Joe, for the chance to share so many good times. There was so much laughter!

If I could be at his celebration of life in Wisconsin where this is being read to others by Linda,  we would sing That’s Amore. It was a song Joe, who was a great tenor, loved.  I invite all of you who are reading this now to sing it for a great paisano, Joe Costanza.  "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore..."

Enjoy your cookies, Joe. You earned ‘em.

Must Love Dogs

Yesterday, just as on most Sundays for the past few months, my husband Nat, and friends Dennis and Monica, have been walking dogs for PALS. PALS stands for Protection of Animals South Lantau. (They wisely chose this name over South Lantau Animal Protection, or SLAP, after some discussion.) PALS describes itself as a small but dedicated group committed to do their best to rescue and rehome abandoned and unwanted animals on Lantau Island. PALS not only rescues dogs but also cats, water buffalo, and snakes.

Speaking of the latter, one recent Sunday evening in February, boxes upon boxes of live snakes were discovered by a lady walking her dog on Pui O beach near the PALS shelter. She called PALS who called the police. PALS then began the task of hauling seventy boxes containing large snakes near the waters’ edge onto drier land. Altogether, 188 boxes containing 789 tightly packed Chinese venomous cobras destined for the mainland China restaurant trade were salvaged.

All in a day’s work.

Although we like snakes, cats, and water buffalo, we travel by public bus up and around and down the roads of Lantau to walk dogs. Once we arrive at the sleepy fishing village of Pui O, we wobble off and turn around in the direction we just came from to trudge up a mighty hill. (Mighty hills are plentiful on Lantau as well as throughout Hong Kong.) The sidewalk narrowly edges the road. We can almost touch the buses, cars, and bikes whizzing past. Finally, we arrive at a mailbox underneath the big striped umbrella that shelters it from the elements. (PALS must get some pretty important mail.) We turn right and go up a flight of stairs bordered by jungly trees, flowers, and vines and head toward the metal gate surrounding the well maintained three story building that houses the PALS shelter.

It looks like a residence because it is. Expat Okka Scherer and her veterinarian partner, Dr. Joe Laraya, live here along with 100+ rescued dogs, an odd assortment of cats, and two water buffalo. (The buffalo live outside.) On a previous visit, I invited myself inside. There were no cages, so the dogs roamed free about the house. It all was remarkably clean, orderly, and peaceful.

We called out to announce our arrival. At first, it was quiet. The rescued water buffalo tethered under a tree in the yard just to our right lifted its head lazily to stare at us and chomp grass. We watched a milk white cat on the second floor play with some netting stretched across the entire width, length, and height of the balcony. This netting seems to prevent cats from acting out their ideas about flying from balconies.

Then the symphony of barking began.

Anka came out. (Often she is accompanied by, Andy, one of the paid helpers but this Sunday was his day off.) Anka and the helpers walk the dogs three times a day, and feed, bathe, and love them. The dogs seem pretty happy.

Quickly, Anka grouped and leashed the dogs. She opened the gate and handed them off to us. Nat and Dennis usually walk four dogs a piece. Monica walks two and I walk three. We make two or three trips with different groups of dogs down the hill path leading directly from the house across the treacherous road to Pui O beach and then back.

The dogs are, to put it mildly, characters. Although PALS has names for all of them, we have names of our own for some of them. There’s the Leaner-a lopey doe eyed Afghan who loves to slant into you when you walk together. Greasey is a greyhound mix that enjoys slipping her collar upon arrival at the beach. “Hey, you know you love to chase me!” she signals while wagging her rump.

Then there are all the black nondescript but eminently walkable ones we ironically call Chinese dogs because we have been told the Chinese don’t like black dogs. They think they attract ghosts. Too bad. They are great animals.

At first, when we walked the dogs, we were being pulled up and down the designated route. But now that we have watched many episodes of The Dog Whisperer and the dogs have gotten to know us, they settle in nicely and off we go in our respective packs.

Making friends with lots of dogs is grounding and relaxing. The dogs are always happy to see us. They don’t care how we are dressed or what language we speak. Witty chatting is lost on them. They are just thrilled that you are there with them and that together you will explore the beach. I can’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon.