Spotted Eagle Ray Soars Again

A 55 year old Michigan woman, Judy Kay Zagorski, died of "blunt force craniocerebral trauma" when a Spotted Eagle Ray swooped out of the water and hit her in the head. Not difficult to imagine, when you realize that this animal was a 75-80 pound missile, with a 6 foot wingspan.



Until this story, I had not even heard of a Spotted Eagle StingRay. But as freak accidents go, this was one of the most freaky. It's not the first time, either.

Eighty-one year old James Bertakis survived an almost identical confrontation in October of 2006, when a Spotted Eagle Ray jumped into his boat. In an effort to put it back in the water, he was stung in the chest, but left the barb in as companions rushed him to the hospital.

As most people in America recall, Australian wildlife expert Steve Irwin died from the sting of a Bull Ray while filming an episode of his show. It's not clear whether he really did pull the stinger out, as some contend, and that this was his fatal mistake. Leaving the stinger in or out could make no difference as the damage of a 10 inch barbed spike in the human heart is formidable, in and of itself. In the case of James Bertakis, surgeons performed two operations to remove the stinger from his heart, and his recovery was slow and still not complete.

Aside from a few news outlets, who called the Zagorski incident an "attack", most have dubbed it an accident. The only one that could be considered an attack was Irwin's case. He boxed the ray in between himself and the cameraman, and the instinctive response was to thrash its barbed tail. Most scuba divers and marine biologists understand that Spotted Eagle rays are usually harmless and rarely have direct contact, aggressive or otherwise, with humans.

In a story published by National Geographic, * University of Miami marine biology professor, Bob Cowen, said of Bertakis incident:

As for the likeness that yesterday's event bears to the encounter that felled Irwin, there's nothing to it beyond mere, if somewhat uncanny, happenstance, Cowen said. "...I really think it's a fluke...We're not going to see eagle rays jumping out of the water attacking boaters," he said.
"If it happens a third time then we have to start worrying about it," he added with a laugh.

Third time. Who's laughing now?

Karma often seems void of discernment. Humans are a collective and we suffer as a species, sometimes, regardless of individual acts. But it's important to realize that we continue to ignore the great potential of our oceans, while abusing the life in it.

Another Spotted Eagle Ray in Florida was tortured by several men on Peanut Island last June. The video of this was removed from YouTube and the Fish and Wildlife service is now doing a criminal investigation of the event.

I hope the abusers get tossed into a giant tank filled with Spotted Eagle Rays.


I had to include this photo of the underside of a ray, because it was odd and interesting.

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*http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2006/10/061019-stingray.html

Spotted Eagle Ray Soars Again

Climbed Like a Cat

For some time now, I have suffered the quick intake of breath on the heels of sharp pain in my legs right above the knee.

I attribute it to the fact that my new kitten, Shoes, keeps climbing me. It would explain the lacerations as well. Thank God she is now old enough to get declawed, as my airbed is also deflating several times a day, now, too.

Last Saturday, I was in a local pub with LS, and a really attractive blond woman climbed me like a cat. She nuzzled me, purred in my ear and couldn't stay off me.

Now, between being climbed BY a cat, and being climbed LIKE a cat, I think I much prefer the latter.

Climbed Like a Cat

Passerby

(Published in the Arkansas Women's Journal)

I had begun the trek to my Expository Writing class that January afternoon, taking the high walkway in front of the campus bookstore, when my eyes flickered to the woman coming toward me. She was a frosted blond, middle aged, dressed professionally, and carried a soft side attaché. She held an ugly green umbrella over her head to stave off the light drizzle; the edge of the umbrella tilted just enough so that I couldn't see her face clearly.

These details swept into my brain along with a numbing suggestion that she was not a stranger, but someone I have known all my life. I looked away so quickly, caught up in my practiced apathy, that I was unable to get another look at her face, for fear she would notice me and that eye contact would result in a dreaded confrontation. My brain whirled away in a fantasy that she would see me and rush over to me, pulling at my sleeve, and tell me how very proud she was of my success at school, and of my courage in going back for a degree, and how sorry she was for the awful letter she had written when she excused herself from my life. And the fantasy evaporated abruptly when she passed by, and my heart thumped back into operation, and the veins in my neck seemed to swell, forcing the blood into my head.

I tried to catch my breath before I turned around to examine her as she moved away from me without pause across the red brick square below. Like a traumatized child, I stood there in the mist, trying to focus on her form before it moved too far away. It had to be her. But the green umbrella-- she would not carry a green umbrella. And the walk she never hobbled like that unless something happened. Unless she's had an accident of some sort since--I continued to watch her move under the canopy at the entrance of the student union, and beyond toward the parking lot, analyzing the reasons why it could not be her. She might have looked at me, but it was not for very long. I know, even though I was busy looking away. Maybe she didn't recognize me after two years. Have I changed that much? Maybe she didn't look at me at all, and that's why she kept walking. That's why she didn't react.

I stood there in my long, dark raincoat, the mist caressing my face, and wondered why it mattered at all. I wondered why I would risk being late for class for someone like her, who could not give me the time of day, nor acknowledge me as a valuable human being. How can a mother ignore her only daughter?

I checked my watch, and turned toward my destination again, refusing to take that additional glance my heart ached for. She's no longer part of my life.

If it was her.

Which I'm sure it wasn't.

Passerby