Dolphins And a Sense of Porpoise
As I pedal out to Ventry I mull over whether when I finally paddle off again I mightn’t turn up the bay to the mouth of Dingle Harbour to see that remarkable dolphin, Fungi. He’s been central to tourism in the area for – amazingly – 23 years.
Which is about as long as the similarly amazing economic ‘miracle’ that has been responsible for Ireland’s transformation from small, poor nation into small, expensive nation has been going. The Irish economy has been dubbed the Celtic Tiger, but on the basis of Fungi there is possibly a better case for calling it the Celtic Dolphin.
Why? Well, this dysfunctional dolphin arrived in Dingle Bay by accident and unexpectedly, but people were bloody quick to see the money-making possibilities and start up dolphin watching tours, make ceramic/wood/plastic dolphin sculptures and rename their cafes, nick-knack shops and boats after the confused cetacean. Rather as happened with the rapid take-up of the EU grants and other unexpected upswings in economic activity in Ireland. And – like many businesses and companies that have moved off-shore to increase profits, such as…er…U2 - the whole cash-dolphin thing got a big boost when Fungi stopped appearing next to beaches where people could see and swim with him for free and instead moved out to the harbour mouth where Fungi-fans have to buy passage on boats to get out to him.
And, again, like much of the Irish economy, so much of the Dingle dolphin phenomena is based on a whim; the slightly weird notion that just so many people want to see a rather corpulent and charisma-free bottlenose splashing around. Because he’s not exactly a sleek, pin-up Flipper-esque glamour boy. Indeed it wouldn't be impossible for the whole Fungi thing to be outsourced to cheaper, harder working dolphins in the Indian Ocean or South China Seas. Or Fungi could find himself being undercut on his home territory by prettier White-Beaked dolphins from the Baltic who've decided to move over to Ireland for a bit of economic emigration before heading out again when the market dries up.
And – again, like Irish property prices, and full employment – Fungi isn’t going to last for ever. I’m guessing – hoping - that there is already a standing order in with Dolphins-R-Us in Miami for a dolphin in a fat-suit to be DHL-ed over pronto if Fungi fails to turn up for work one day. Or that a couple of local divers wearing the cetacean equivalent of a pantomime horse costume are ready to take over.
If i have somewhat ambivalent feelings about this dolphin it’s perhaps because if he was a human he’d be a very, very strange man indeed. Dolphins, and especially Tursiops truncatus the bottle-nosed variety, are hugely social animals, and yet Fungi has been hanging out on his own since he was a teenager. He was the dolphin version of a lank-haired kid in a hoody listening to The Cure and claiming nobody understood him except the weird pink, wavy limb animals who adored him. But - this is the unsettling bit - he never pulled himself together and got a girlfriend and a regular fishing career. So, now he’s a rather creepy, rumpled, middle-aged tursiops who prefers hanging out with another species rather than his own people, and who seems to have a bit of a thing for neoprene. If he came from a human society and lived in the average estate he’d have had bricks thrown through his window by now and the social services would be keeping a very close eye on him. And the Society for the Protection of Animals would be a bit worried too.
Yet, and all, despite my cynicism I can’t guarantee that I won’t pull out of Ventry and feel compelled to put a fair few miles onto my trip to just nip down and look at the Fungi phenomena. Of course, I’m going to look stupid if all those people who think dolphins have some kind of higher consciousness are right, and especially if Fungi can read internet blogs by telepathy, say. In which case I’m likely to get 400 lbs of irritated bottle-nose – and that would be some very high-pitched chirping, I’d imagine – landing from high in the air on top of me. That’ll provide a good headline for The Kerryman. And serve me right. Until then long live the Celtic Dolphin Economy.
Which is about as long as the similarly amazing economic ‘miracle’ that has been responsible for Ireland’s transformation from small, poor nation into small, expensive nation has been going. The Irish economy has been dubbed the Celtic Tiger, but on the basis of Fungi there is possibly a better case for calling it the Celtic Dolphin.
Why? Well, this dysfunctional dolphin arrived in Dingle Bay by accident and unexpectedly, but people were bloody quick to see the money-making possibilities and start up dolphin watching tours, make ceramic/wood/plastic dolphin sculptures and rename their cafes, nick-knack shops and boats after the confused cetacean. Rather as happened with the rapid take-up of the EU grants and other unexpected upswings in economic activity in Ireland. And – like many businesses and companies that have moved off-shore to increase profits, such as…er…U2 - the whole cash-dolphin thing got a big boost when Fungi stopped appearing next to beaches where people could see and swim with him for free and instead moved out to the harbour mouth where Fungi-fans have to buy passage on boats to get out to him.
And, again, like much of the Irish economy, so much of the Dingle dolphin phenomena is based on a whim; the slightly weird notion that just so many people want to see a rather corpulent and charisma-free bottlenose splashing around. Because he’s not exactly a sleek, pin-up Flipper-esque glamour boy. Indeed it wouldn't be impossible for the whole Fungi thing to be outsourced to cheaper, harder working dolphins in the Indian Ocean or South China Seas. Or Fungi could find himself being undercut on his home territory by prettier White-Beaked dolphins from the Baltic who've decided to move over to Ireland for a bit of economic emigration before heading out again when the market dries up.
And – again, like Irish property prices, and full employment – Fungi isn’t going to last for ever. I’m guessing – hoping - that there is already a standing order in with Dolphins-R-Us in Miami for a dolphin in a fat-suit to be DHL-ed over pronto if Fungi fails to turn up for work one day. Or that a couple of local divers wearing the cetacean equivalent of a pantomime horse costume are ready to take over.
If i have somewhat ambivalent feelings about this dolphin it’s perhaps because if he was a human he’d be a very, very strange man indeed. Dolphins, and especially Tursiops truncatus the bottle-nosed variety, are hugely social animals, and yet Fungi has been hanging out on his own since he was a teenager. He was the dolphin version of a lank-haired kid in a hoody listening to The Cure and claiming nobody understood him except the weird pink, wavy limb animals who adored him. But - this is the unsettling bit - he never pulled himself together and got a girlfriend and a regular fishing career. So, now he’s a rather creepy, rumpled, middle-aged tursiops who prefers hanging out with another species rather than his own people, and who seems to have a bit of a thing for neoprene. If he came from a human society and lived in the average estate he’d have had bricks thrown through his window by now and the social services would be keeping a very close eye on him. And the Society for the Protection of Animals would be a bit worried too.
Yet, and all, despite my cynicism I can’t guarantee that I won’t pull out of Ventry and feel compelled to put a fair few miles onto my trip to just nip down and look at the Fungi phenomena. Of course, I’m going to look stupid if all those people who think dolphins have some kind of higher consciousness are right, and especially if Fungi can read internet blogs by telepathy, say. In which case I’m likely to get 400 lbs of irritated bottle-nose – and that would be some very high-pitched chirping, I’d imagine – landing from high in the air on top of me. That’ll provide a good headline for The Kerryman. And serve me right. Until then long live the Celtic Dolphin Economy.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home