Dunking and dining in the shark tank

Five-YEAR-OLD Timmy Hughes reaches gingerly into the water, rests his tiny palm atop a gliding stingray and smiles in amazement at a creature with skin that “feels like a ... like a wet hot dog.”

His older brother Andrew is more enthusiastic and summons courage to touch a 4-foot shark he is sure enjoyed the experience as much as he did. “It liked me,” he says, smiling.

Standing near them, I tell the boys the sharks liked me too. Before the Aquarium of the Pacific opened in the morning, I was up to my waist in rays and sharks -- with a bucket of squid, shrimp and clams.

Moreover, I tell the boys I swam with the big sharks -- the lean, mean-looking marauders that swim with swagger. When I tell them that they can too someday, their jaws drop. They wonder how I took a dip with sharks and lived to tell. But before I assure them I am neither a fool nor a liar, they scamper off with their mother, bound for home in Victorville.

Getting wet with sharks at the Long Beach facility is not only allowed, it’s encouraged. It’s part of a program called the Shark Animal Encounter. It’s available to people 13 and older and costs $75 for aquarium nonmembers, $65 for members. Call (562) 590-3100. to make reservations.

“A lot of folks come here with fears that need to be dispelled,” says Paul Clarkson, a marine biologist with the program. “They’re used to the ‘Jaws’ mentality, and once they come in here they leave with a different attitude, and I think that’s a huge benefit to shark populations. Without a greater understanding and appreciation, we’re never going to save them.”

Many shark species -- blues, makos and threshers, to name a few -- are believed to be in serious decline due to overfishing. Some are victims of “finning,” in which fins are removed for sale to Asian markets and their writhing bodies dumped overboard.

The shark tank at the aquarium is a window to the wild. I donned a wet suit and within moments dozens of rays and sharks were brushing against my legs and cruising over my feet. Booties are mandatory. Said Clarkson: “You don’t want one of them mistaking your toe for a shrimp.”

Most of the animals in the touch-pool area are bamboo sharks, beautifully striped and spotted reef-dwellers, common throughout the western Pacific.

With them are equally colorful epaulette sharks, cow-nose rays and juvenile zebra sharks, at nearly 4 feet the largest inhabitants. Most were wary, veering away before lingering near the source of the food.

These sharks have teeth that crush rather than pierce and tear, and their mouths are smaller than those of species that eat marine mammals and large fish. But they have powerful jaws, and I was asked to drop food into the water rather than hand-feed them. However, I could not resist and was surprised at how they discern real food from fingers.

“They’d be more than happy to never even see a human,” Clarkson said as we stepped out of the lagoon. “Most animals don’t like to see anything bigger than they are.” But I ignored that rule of nature as I stepped into the larger pool. Fourteen predators bigger than us -- including menacing-looking sand tigers and a wicked-looking sawfish -- were on patrol.

Fortunately, the shallow corner of the tank had been partitioned and accessible to only two 7-foot zebra sharks from Australia. These bottom-dwelling reef residents could crush a large crab with one bite, Clarkson warned, handing me tongs to use for feeding.

Had I not been so mesmerized I might have been scared as the sharks closed in on a sardine. But soon I was laughing in disbelief as these broad-headed, long-tailed predators began nudging my belly, back and legs, like affectionate puppies.

Clarkson’s smile was reassuring. I could have stayed in for an hour, but after about 15 minutes the food was gone and it was time to go.

“These things have such a personality, and it’s easy to leave at the end of the day and go, ‘Oh, I miss [the sharks],’ ” Clarkson said. “And then you imagine chopping the fins off an animal like that. It definitely brings it closer to home.”

It couldn’t get any closer.

To e-mail Pete Thomas or read his previous Fair Game columns, go to latimes.com/petethomas.