Hi, I’m Bruce. I’m writing a letter to you, dear reader, to tell you my side of a dark, harrowing story.
Me and my mates have inhabited this planet for more than 400 million years, and have survived five mass extinctions.
We’ve made families, provided for them with food and shelter, and taken up jobs that have and continue to service our local communities.
We’ve mostly lived in harmony with the creatures that make up our wonderful ecosystem... until these strange, air-breathing, land-walking animals arrived.
They came with their ships and their guns and their nets, hunting us down in brutal attacks that left many of my family and friends dead or mutilated.
What for? Our fins!
Apparently, shark fin soup is a delicacy in Asia and the decimation of a species is worth the while to feed another.
Luckily for some of us, we were able to flee and found sanctuary in Australian waters.
We lived peacefully for a while, until those two-legged things – humans, I believe – decided they’d start to take over our homes and claim them as their own.
Then one of my idiot brothers, Joel, accidentally mistook one of them for his dinner.
That’s when the gates started to appear. Along the East Coast then the West, giant net-like barriers were erected to keep these humans ‘safe’ and keep us from roaming freely.
They’d trap the young, dumb and reckless, then shoot them if they thought they looked threatening.
Joel was sorry, but there was no way for him to explain what had happened, and even if he could have, it was too late.
But if he had the chance, I’m sure he would have said it was just a misunderstanding.
He doesn’t even like the taste of humans, not one of us does.
It was already hard to tell the difference between land-dwelling beings and seals, but more and more people were getting in the water and they just looked so similar…
I mean, put the two together in a room… We don’t exactly have the best eye sight either.
We hoped that someone out there knew that we didn’t mean any harm and that it was just in our nature.
Thankfully, someone did, and the gates were reopened.
We tried our best to stay out of trouble but as when our population declined, the humans’ doubled, and so did their interest in the ocean.
A few more attacks happened and that put us in hot water all over again.
Some humans said it was time for a cull, but if they had counted the people left in my family, they’d realise a cull wasn’t necessary.
We’re renowned for being slow reproducers. Just look at my Missus, Sheila.
First we had to wait until she was at least 17 (we added a few more years on top of that), then when the first one came we had to wait another couple of years before we could try again.
We don’t mate like rabbits, so to even think that there was a whole lot more of us out there waiting to attack… well, let’s get real.
So, if you would, please hear my plea.
If you’re going to get into the water to swim, surf, dive or snorkel, use what your ‘kind’ created – I think it’s called the internet? – to stop these attacks from happening.
Sharksmart.com.au gives you regular updates of the whereabouts of me and my mates, and so does the Surf Lifesaving’s smart phone app.
Also, try to not look like a seal.
Oh, and maybe don’t go swimming at dusk either, a combination of hunger and low lighting isn’t going to help your cause, and even the best of us can make mistakes.
-- Bruce the shark (as told to Lily Yeang)
Have your say: What’s your position on the shark cull debate, and will you be getting in the water this summer? Email lily.yeang@fairfaxmedia.com.au.
