A Gentle Reminder : Humans, Unwittingly, Present Greatest Danger to Manatee, the Aquatic Teddy Bears

“The manatees won’t like your scuba bubbles, you know, it scares them,” the man yelled from the dock.

Smiling and nodding, I pushed my small wooden boat away from the other dinghies at the dock. The man in the store where I rented my scuba equipment had also cautioned me about the bubbles.

“You won’t get close enough while breathing on scuba to get pictures underwater; you’ll be wasting your time,” he had told me bluntly.

I paid no attention to either of their warnings. I had traveled to Florida to swim with and photograph these wonderful blimp-sized aquatic teddy bears--and I was going to do it!

My husband and I were at Crystal River National Wildlife Refuge, one of six designated national refuges for the manatee in Florida. Each winter, as the coastal water gets too cold for the warm-blooded mammals, they come into the rivers and coastal byways, seeking the 70-degree freshwater springs. Congregating in small groups, they spend most of each day eating shallow-water plants, about 110 pounds a day each.

As instructed by the boat keeper, I sat in the bow of our small rental boat, keeping a sharp eye out for submerged manatees, who, because they are mammals and must breathe air, rise to the surface every three to five minutes. Also, being rather lackadaisical, they often float motionlessly just under the surface. We wanted to be very careful with our motor’s prop.

We went to the back of a small island in the river where the manatees had been sighted that morning. Donning my scuba gear, I made a backward roll off the boat. The water looked as if it had been in an abandoned aquarium--a light green tingeing the soupy murk. Visibility was less than five feet. As I reached up for my camera, something brushed against my leg. Yikes! I hate it when that happens.

Using my face mask to break the plane of the water, I saw an animal the size of a Volkswagen. Tentatively, I reached out to see if the animal would let me touch it. Its gray skin felt like the rind of a cantaloupe. Along the manatee’s back were four long, thin white scars that look as if a knife had been used in a sick game.

He hung quietly in the water, moving his short, stubby legs slightly to get a closer look at me.

What I saw back was a face that only a mother--or another manatee--could love. His snout was about eight inches long with nostrils at the end, each about the size of an egg. There were several long bristles of hair standing straight up, as if they had been missed in shaving.

His eyes fixed on me, but I saw in them only curiosity and acceptance. Obviously, this manatee had never heard the theory about being scared of scuba bubbles.

I was torn between using my hands to make the settings on my camera and stroking this animal. Touchy-feely won out, and he responded by rolling over on his side. He wanted me to rub his belly, which I did, with huge enjoyment.

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These gentle creatures, which can reach lengths of 13 feet and weigh 1,000 pounds or more, are disappearing at an alarming rate. Conservationists fear that they may be extinct in 10 years if their predator is not controlled.

And what is this killer that pollutes the water and destroys their habitat? What animal takes deadly power machines and slashes gaping wounds in these passive, unsuspecting giants?

Man.

It is unintentional, but still it is man, with his pollution and toxic waste, his constant encroachment upon nature and his high-powered speedboats.

The manatees, as they float near the surface, are vulnerable to propeller blades of motors. If a boat is going fast, the driver often sees the manatees too late to avoid hitting them as they rise for a breath of air. Collisions with boats account for about 37% of manatee fatalities. Others are dying from pollution of their environment.

Females have a gestation period of 400 days and usually give birth to a single calf, although there are the occasional twins. The mother and calf bond closely, the calf swimming beside the mother’s flipper.

Because manatees have very poor eyesight, the mother stays in contact with her baby and the baby gives an answering call. If they become separated, the mother will call for hours until she is reunited with her baby.

A calf remains with the mother for a year after birth. A mature female can produce a calf every two to three years. This low reproduction rate prompts fears that manatees will quietly slip into extinction because they are not staying even with their attrition rate.

Manatees spend their days and nights mostly eating and sleeping within their loose-knit social groups. Observers have been amused, however, to discover that they like to play games. Their favorite is follow-the-leader.

In this game, two or tree manatees follow the chosen leader, synchronizing their breathing, diving and direction changes in a grand manatee water ballet.

Body surfing is another of their favorite activities. Swimming in parallel formation, they ride the strong currents below the flood dams when the gates are partially opened. They do this again and again, sometimes going headfirst, sometimes broadside but always in parallel formation.

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Jesse White, a Florida marine veterinarian, is devoting his life to saving the manatee.

He was working as resident vet for the Miami Seaquarium on Key Biscayne in the 1970s, when he became intrigued with a couple of manatees he found relegated to an obscure tank in the back. After getting them moved to better quarters, he developed a keen interest in Romeo and Juliet--as he named the pair.

At first there were no offspring. But after he had tinkered with their diet, Romeo and his Mrs. started producing babies every two years.

In 1984, two manatees born in captivity, Sunrise and Savanna, were put in holding pens in Florida’s Homosassa River. Two years later they were released to successfully live in the wild.

The long gestation period and the yearlong weaning period, however, make breeding in captivity no answer to the survival of the species.

White has formed the nonprofit Florida Manatee Research and Education Foundation, Inc. He says the manatees’ survival is a numbers game.

Although the number of live manatees is a guesstimate, the number of dead manatees is frighteningly accurate. In 1988, 134 died, 7% of the estimated 2,000 manatees. In 1989, 188 were found dead. And in 1990, 164 died, slightly more than 8% of the remaining population.

Current estimates put the number of manatees in Florida waters at about 1,400, so at these rates, it’s easy to see that they might be extinct by the end of this decade.

Manatees are protected by the federal Marine Protection Act of 1972 and the Endangered Species Act of 1973. Additionally, Florida has passed the Florida Manatee Sanctuary Act, which states: “It is unlawful for any person, at any time, by any means, intentionally or negligently, to annoy, molest, harass, or disturb any manatee.”

But the protection offered by the acts has not been enough, and the manatees’ numbers continue to decline. White believes that public education is crucial for the survival of the manatee. He spends most of his time touring the state, at his own expense, lecturing to groups, especially children.

Florida, too, is trying to protect the manatee. In November of 1991, the Florida legislature approved a 7-m.p.h. speed limit for boats, and signs have been posted where manatees winter. To pacify the boaters, the limit is only in effect between Nov. 15 and March 31--when most manatees are seen in the interior waterways. Boaters who violate the speed limit face fines of up to $500 and 60 days in jail.

The state also has raised nearly $2 million--and the consciousness of the people--by issuing a special Manatee license plate.

In Tampa, the Lowry Park Zoo has completed a million-dollar manatee hospital. And Sea World in Orlando maintains the largest manatee rescue facility in the state. So far, more than 90 injured or sick animals have been rescued and successfully treated.

There is an underwater monument to the manatee located in Kings Bay, Fla., at the site where Harvey Barnett, while scuba diving, found a manatee dying of wounds from a collision with a boat. The inscription reads: “Life must become more than the wants and needs of humans. We are not on this earth alone.”