Fish Stories
Gina swam around the coral head and came face to face with a quartet of the most serious-looking fish. They were shaped like a semicircle, flat across the bottom with a pretty even curve from their mouths to their tails. They weren’t dangerous like sharks or barracudas, which could do serious damage. No, these fish looked as if they had a lot on their minds and acted as if she had interrupted an important meeting. They swam away in formation, but not before giving her dirty looks for her bad manners.
She swam down the reef, finning to catch up with the rest of the divers. Gina wondered if she was the only person who made up stories about the fish and critters she saw when she was diving.
The little Bicolor Damselfish tending its algae garden in a depression in the coral would dart away to chase off a Blue Tang that dipped down to grab a bite. She was sure that the Damselfish was hollering at the Tang as it swam up to chase the bigger fish away. While the Damselfish was chasing the Tang, a little crab would slip out of a hole in the reef and use its claws to snatch up algae, which it would then shove into its mouth. Gina could almost hear the yummy noises the crab would make as it stuffed its face. The Damselfish would swim back to its garden on the coral, chasing the crab back into its hole until another Blue Tang swam by and started the whole game all over again.
Gina imagined that the long skein of Creole Wrasse that swam in a nearly continuous stream along the reef hummed as it went happily along.
The Spotted Trunkfish, with its pursed-lip mouth, had to be whistling as it swam by on its way to wherever it was going.
Did the pregnant yellow Trumpetfish get morning sickness? What about the male Seahorses? They were the ones that carried the eggs in their belly pouch until the fry hatched, and he ejected them in what looked like labor. Did it hurt?
Gina wanted to know if the Reef Octopus and Peacock Flounder made sounds when they changed colors. Did their chromatophores sizzle when they shifted from brown to white?
She knew that shrimp claws made snapping sounds when someone or something came too near their burrow. Sometimes it sounded like popcorn when she swam past a rock wall inhabited by a lot of shrimp.
As she swam over the coral field that looked like a buttress holding up the reef, she heard wind chimes. She looked around and then at the surface. The rhythm of the chiming matched the rhythm of the waves. Gina bet that the broken coral rolling in the surf made the musical sound. She’d have to ask the divemaster. Or was she the only one who heard it?
Gina lagged behind the rest of the divers. So far behind that the divemaster swam back to find her and ask her if she was okay. He checked her air and motioned for her to keep up with the group. She would have been perfectly happy exploring a narrow slice of the reef from bottom to top. No amount of talking would convince the divemaster that she’d be safe alone and that the group should go ahead without her. She’d promise to stay within sight of the mooring and keep a close eye on her gauges. No sale. Never dive alone. That was what they taught in scuba class, and that’s what they practiced. Gina suspected the professionals dived alone, but they’d never admit it, certainly not to a student or guest.
One of these days she’d find someone with the same kind of imagination she had who knew how to scuba dive. They’d explore the reefs, watching the fish and critters go about their business and not swim so fast as if they were chasing something. One of these days. Until then, Gina would be the one the divemaster had to keep an eye on, so he didn’t lose her.
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I'm a Gina! So of course I love this!