Shiro’s Hunt

My name is Shiro. It has been a very exhausting night because I spent most of it on the move constantly. Sure, I took a break every now and then to enjoy some fresh tuna, but that didn’t eliminate the fact that I had to keep moving. I glance up towards the sky and noticed the sun is starting to peak over the horizon, signaling it’s time for me to retire for the day. I generally don’t like moving during the day time because I don’t want to be seen by others. Interacting with others is overrated; I prefer to be alone.

As I begin to head home, someone catches the corner of my eye. I turn to see who it is. Of course, it’s Tony. He’s generally a great guy and I do enjoy his company, even though I don’t enjoy others.

“Hey, Tony! What’s the word?” I inquire, hoping he hears me.

Tony comes over towards me. “Ah, Shiro, where were you? You didn’t hear about last night?”

This intrigues me. Tony knows something I don’t? Tony is like an eating machine, he’ll eat anything he sees in front of him. Whatever happened last night, I can almost guarantee it has something to do with food. Yet, I’ll play along, “No, what happened?”

“Massive food source was located. It was like a feeding frenzy! Some of the best meat I have EVER eaten. I’m surprised you weren’t there, you would have love it,” Tony informed, still licking his mouth while reminiscing.

What? A massive food source? How could I have miss that indeed? As a hunter, I needed to find some food other than tuna. If I had known, I would have been there, like Tony said. However, that would mean I would have to share with others, something I don’t really like to do.

“Feeding frenzy? I’m almost glad I didn’t go. Where was it?” Not that I had any plans to go over and pick off what may be remaining. If Tony is right, then I am sure the remnants would be scarce.

“Over in the South Beach area! I don’t know how much is going to be left, so you better hurry if you want any of it,” Tony replies.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks anyway. I’m probably not even going to bother. I’m too tired to head over to South Beach. I’ll take my chances here instead.”

Tony nods and deviates from my course to his own, leaving me alone. This is the life of a night hunter. Traveling alone means putting in extra work to find food. The pro is, any food you find is solely for you. For me, the pros definitely outweigh the cons.

Tony, on the other hand, tends to gather anything for food. Like I said earlier, he will eat almost anything you put in front of him. He has shared a lot of his stories with me and his method of hunting even sound dangerous. Tony once said he found some unknown food when he was traveling in the southern hemisphere. It didn’t look like any creature known to us, as it was square shaped. Tony, being Tony, bit into it and claimed he had a difficult time biting. He couldn’t even get his teeth through the outer shell. That’s just an example of how Tony thinks. That’s also the reason I don’t travel with Tony.

As I continue in my northern direction, the sky becomes lighter indicating the sun is finally in a higher position. I keep my attention on high alert because with more light, I am more likely to be seen as well. Fighting the rumbling of my stomach, I remain hopeful that I’m bound to find some sort of satisfaction before my slumber. On the other hand, more light will definitely help with visibility for me as well. Just need to keep my positive attitude.

As if the heaven’s hear my plea, I sense some movement nearby. It’s not what I am hoping for, erratic vibrations as if calling for help. It’s more of a slowly rhythmic movement with very light vibrations. I rapidly move towards it, hoping it will help diminish my hunger. My surroundings darken as if someone dimmed the light on the sun the closer I move towards the source. This could be the advantage point I need. I can still sense the movement nearby and it is still a serene vibration. Obviously, my presence hasn’t been noticed yet.

My slow approach is paying off as I discover the source of the movement: a round, dark blob of fatty deliciousness directly in front of me. Pumped with adrenaline, I have to make my next move quick and seamless if I am to have any hope of capture a pre-slumber morsel. I sink deeper in the air around me and circle around the chubby slab above to gain a better vantage of attack. When I look back up at it, I notice my prey appears to have extra appendages. I can’t tell if it’s the fat juice meat I had before when I was around the cold waters of Africa, or a hard crunchy meat that I can find around Hawaii. Quite more intriguing is, it’s just sitting there. Motionless, in the air above me. Usually my prey is moving and not sitting there. Maybe it’s not what I think it is? If it’s not, then what is it? To satisfy my curiosity, I need a taste check to figure out what it is. I decide instead of moving full speed towards the source above me, I will approach slowly below it and bite to determine which meat it is.

I move swiftly to make my attack one smooth motion. As I propel up, I slide the appendage in my mouth, clamping down simultaneously. The appendage slides into my mouth like an octopus does in a small tight crevice. What in the name of sharkdom? There is absolutely NO fat in that at all. It’s all crunch with nothing else. GROSS! Regardless of the tastelessness of the meat, the appendage continues its path down to oblivion towards my stomach. Whatever it is, it’s not made for me, unless I decide I want to go on diet. I take a final glance back at the food source. It’s a little harder to see clearly because of the darkness in the surrounding, but I can smell the reddish liquid I usually enjoy when I bite fatty meat. This liquid is definitely not what I am used to smelling, confirming that I bit something new and lean. I don’t care because I am disappointed.

My thoughts of the meal are quickly interrupted by more disruptive movement above me. I look to notice other strange creatures I have never seen before moving towards the disgusting, motionless slab of unknown meat I just had. Whatever it was I just bit, must have company. Either way, that would be my cue to high tail it out of the area. Pushing with all the fins near my caudal fin, I speed from the crime scene, hoping to find sanctuary in a distant area of the ocean, far from the place of crunchy, non-fat protein. I need to find something to get this taste out of my mouth.

Meanwhile, back at the surf break.

“Ho, brah, what was dat?” Shouts a surfer, rushing towards the other one, whose arm has been cleanly bit off up to his elbow.

“I t’ink is was one great white, but I couldn’t tell.” The other adds, assisting in trying to bring the wounded surfer to shore.

The attacked surfer is bleeding profusely and slowly losing conscience with every stroke towards the shore. The others try to keep him from bleeding more by making a tourniquet with a leash over his wounded arm.

“I knew it was a bad idea to go surfing in dis murky water! I try fo’ tell you not fo jump in. Dis place is known for shark attacks and now you can see why!”

Shiro was never found or harmed by any humans. He still continues his hunt for food and next time you visit the Pacific Ocean, you may want to keep your eyes out for him, Shiro, the Great White Shark.