From a Dolphin's Eyes

Mother used to tell me to stay away from five-fingered hands that plunged into the water. I soon learned it wasn't just hands. There were numerous tools - lines almost invisible to the dolphin eye but that spelled doom for our fish friends and foods alike and horrifying that swooped in to fish-nap a few of our shark enemies, but that we'd still look on in sympathy and horror when the sharks returned home finless, left to slowly sink and rot to death. But ships were always a spectacle we looked forward to - by the age of five, Mother would allow me to wander off with "at least five others to form a strong pack" she'd say, and we'd have two kinds of races: one to see who first approached the ship and caught the humans' glances, and the other to see who could outrace the ship for the longest.

At school, we were taught about the various sea animals and plants, including ones in foreign seas. Recently, our history teacher started diving in to politics, about how we didn't used to have to worry so much about water and plastic pollution, until the humans started taking over the land and much of our waters too. I'm actually a bit divided on the issue though. I don't understand how some of the little girls and boys who come swimming near us could voluntarily desire to throw away their dirtied belongings into our homes. Some of them seem more than kind enough with their smiles and waves. Then I take a look at the dogs and cats aboard and think about our fellow comrades in aquariums and shudder at many people's cruelty when it comes to power.

I have become what my older brother would say a coral hugger. I don't literally go down to the ocean bed and embrace corals, but I advocate my time on making a difference for those who cannot make one for themselves. And I believe the fastest way is by aiming straight at the humans responsible. I've seen people use nets for other purposes now, such as removing the bottles and pieces floating adrift, and I've formed a coalition with fellow dolphins to pick up pieces that have sunk down. We rely on our noses and fins to push them back towards the surface and sometimes dance to catch the people's attention. Sometimes people seem surprised to find us so near and behaving so smartly. Some of my friends despise humans' ignorance, but I've learned to cooperate for the better of our world.

There are days when we are left especially dejected as we look out towards the scattered colors of the setting sun on the endless waves. Images of dolphin corpses who have stranded themselves to raise awareness on the beach float through our minds. What if it didn't have to be so gruesome, and we could take the matter into our own fins? Rid the oceans of plastic once and for all?