Bull Shark with diver

MANILA, Philippines — Diving with great whites ranked near the top of my bucket list. But these apex predators are either in Africa or in Australia. So, in the interim, I petted bull sharks in Sentosa.

At least, in the giant tanks of Singapore’s Underwater World, sharks stayed long enough to be petted. That doesn’t mean they won’t bite when grabbed or startled. In such a confined space, they can even maul a diver more easily. But I took my chances.

In the open sea, these shy predators usually keep a good flight distance from people - unless you provoke them, flail about like wounded prey or pique their curiosity. To entice sharks, boatmen dump gallons of blood and fish guts overboard. You swim through the muck and spend thousands of dollars on dive packages with no guarantees.

For my Sentosa shark dive, I simply informed the park about my preferred time, produced my dive license, paid the Singapore $120 fee — around R4,000, and signed a waiver I will not sue them should any of their sharks maul or kill me.

A staff escorted me through a side door into the bowels of the oceanarium - a surreal world of humming aerators and hissing sprinklers. The familiar briny scent of the sea wafted up my nostrils, along with that of soaked neoprene wetsuits, masks and booties.

I pussyfooted on the slippery wet cement, past small holding containers of newly arrived turtles and piranhas waiting to be tagged, between drums and stacked boxes to the gear rack. Shadows danced in the eerie glow of the multi-million gallon tank below us.

As I suited up, I could see the top of the tunnel where keepers enter and feed the marine life. No need to wear fins, my dive master told me. The seawater is just 12 feet deep but pressurized for about 200 feet for the comfort of its residents.

Already, a good number of the 2,500 occupants - groupers, Napoleon wrasse and small reef sharks, have assembled on the steps. When I submerged, I was instantly engulfed in a maelstrom of hungry fish.

With trepidation, my feet groped for the bottom. A handful of guitar sharks, six feet long, carpeted the floor of the aquarium. These are endangered species, rarely seen in the wild although Singapore has successfully bred a number in the park.

The weirdly shaped sharks, who are actually close relatives of stingrays, stirred but they made no move to skewer me with their long snouts configured like power saws, with teeth just as sharp. My dive master gestured I can pet them if I want to and I did.

In fact, I got my bare hands wrapped around every shark, fish and stingray that came near me that day.

The biggest of the leopard sharks, whom keepers named Fido, circled over my head languidly. True to his name, he was as friendly as a pooch. I tried mesmerizing another leopard shark by putting my hand on its sensitive snout. It fell in a swoon and drifted to the bottom.

“You can’t feed the sharks. But you can hand-feed our spotted eagle rays,” my dive master told me before our descent. Now, he handed me a basket full of shellfish.

As soon as the basket materialized, the spotted eagle rays began darting in like stealth bombers. My dive master scooped out plump oysters, gesturing I should hold them out on the flat of my palm and not curl my fingers when the rays come to feed.

I didn’t realize why it was so important until the biggest eagle ray swooped in. He must be ten feet wide and a little under twenty feet long from head to tail.

The ray locked his bulbous eyes on me, dashed head on and draped his half ton self over my shoulders just as the current threatened to sweep away my handful of oysters. Instinctively, I clenched my fist and the giant ray took my whole hand in his mouth.

His chevron-shaped dental grinding plates scraped my palm, tickling me as he picked up the oysters. I laughed through my regulator. Good, I did not panic. His teeth weren’t as sharp as a bull sharks’ but just as powerful. Rays crush and grind crabs, octopus, shrimps and molluscs.

After extracting his snack, the giant eagle ray spat out my hand. Had I panicked and struggled to pull free, he will clamp on my hand and most surely mangle it. He continued to stare at me expectantly as he munched, spewing out clouds of powdered shells.

Smaller rays staged an underwater ballet as I emptied the oyster basket. I managed to stroke some unfurling wings and slick white abdomens, though I was wary of their serrated tail spines.

Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin died by a sting ray barb in his heart. The ray must have thought it was being cornered as Steve and his camera crew angled for shots and lashed out. Another swimmer in Indonesia was killed when an irate ray impaled him between the eyes.

Members of the ray family have been dubbed as the “pussy cats of the sea”. Scuba divers love to hitch rides on their larger cousins, the mantas. But when threatened, harassed or stepped on, rays whip up their tails and thrust their venomous spines on their attackers.

When I ran out of oysters, I swam under an artificial stone ledge where ten to fourteen-foot nocturnal nurse sharks piled on top of each other, dozing with eyes open, gills moving and jaw whiskers, or barbels, twitching.

The nurse shark took its name from the sucking sounds it makes, resembling that of a nursing baby, some said. But although this large bottom-dweller seems sluggish, it doesn’t hesitate to use its formidable array of dentures when provoked - the same equipment it uses to crush its favorite shellfish, lobsters, corals and sea urchins.

Needless to say, I accosted the outer side of the shark pile with care and petted a huge nurse. His huge body felt smooth as I stroked him from head to tail. Pet a shark the wrong way and it’s as good as sandpapering your palms. The denticles on his skin are so sharp it can shred your gloves.

The sleepy shark seemed to enjoy the petting session and didn’t move away, so I decided to push my luck further. Very slowly, I squeezed in among the shark heap, lying down on my side to cuddle their great flanks and embrace them with my arms and legs.

But the stream of bubbles from my regulator disturbed a couple at the bottom. They did not bolt in panic but the biggest rose and wrapped his tail and body around my legs. All the rest swirled around me in a very tight circle, a mad profusion of flukes and fins.

They were so beautiful, so sinuous, so liquid, I almost forgot how hard they were. Their cartilaginous bodies felt unyielding as steel. Had they been in a wild frenzy, or had they been deliberately trying to hurt me, it would be as if I’ve inserted myself in a massive meat grinder.

I was so absorbed with the sharks I didn’t notice people have gathered outside the tank, faces pressed on the acrylic glass. I only became aware of them when cameras started flashing.

I looked up to see eager faces, young and old. Somehow, they must have felt they were touching the sharks through me. The kids jumped up and down in delight. Their parents smiled and waved at me.

In less than an hour, I also managed to pet the tank’s fiercest looking denizens – the gray nurse sharks or Spotted Ragged-Tooth. Their fangs protruded from their jaws like permanently bared daggers. Fortunately, they don’t feed on people, preferring to round up small fish into tight schools they can eat.

For the finale, my dive master introduced me to the park’s bull shark couple, the most dangerous fish in the collection.

Bull or Zambezi sharks, are the true “Jaws” of the seas though they’re actually ranked third among the man-eating species, after great whites and tiger sharks. Oceanic white tips rank last.

The bull sharks circled endlessly. Despite their stocky bulk, they’re extremely fast and could breach out of the water. Hence, I waited till they were circling farthest from me before I grabbed a handful of their shed-off teeth at the bottom of the tank.

After hauling myself out, I gazed down at the triangular, saw-edged souvenirs on my palm. Bull shark teeth grow in rows which rotate into use as needed. The old, worn-down ones, fall off.

At last, I’ve ticked off one lethal shark on my list. Next time, I told myself, I’ll interact with great whites, tiger sharks and oceanic white tips, as I did here, without a cage.

But first, around my neck, I strung the bull sharks’ teeth, a talisman, their parting gift.

(For questions, comments, suggestions, etc. please contact the author at emmieabadilla@yahoo.com.)