It’s oddly peaceful, the open ocean cloaked in the dark of night. The silence on the boat feels somewhat deafening, broken only by quiet chattering to pass the time and stay awake. My eyes are fixed on the tiny blinking dots that are hovering on the surface, I must not miss the slightest change in their movements. I stay focused, never fully at ease, always ready to act. 

Suddenly, we are no longer alone on the water. One of the blinking lights had vanished into the deep. Euphoric energy ripples through the team, everyone is moving. The boat’s motor roars to life, turning us to the spot where the blinking dot disappeared. Everyone knows their role, and before the boat comes to a halt again I am already hovering over the rail. Even though I have seen it over and over again in the past few days, it still has me catching my breath when the shark is carefully pulled to the side of the boat. Adrenaline is rushing through my body as I recognize the species – it is a tiger shark, female, and instantly my favorite of all sharks we’ve caught from that moment on. I quickly but gently grab her dorsal fin, place a transponder under her skin and just for the hint of a second allow myself to let my gaze wander over her magnificent skin. Aloud I pass on the information we need to my coworker with the datasheet and she scribbles it down concisely but also in a hurry, responding to us indicating our remaining minutes.

A few seconds later everyone retreats from the rail and on the count of three we release the shark from our ropes and hands. My eyes follow this beauty as she glides back into the depths, seizing the moment as she disappears gracefully. The equipment is swiftly returned to where it was taken from. Reset. I let my body switch back into stand-by mode, sliding down to sit beside my coworker as she reviews the datasheet. Then everything hides under the blanket of silence once more, our attention drawn back to the tiny blinking dots on the surface. We must not miss the slightest change in their movements. The sun’s upper silhouette begins to crest over the horizon, a warm, fuzzy but content feeling is washing over me. I lean my head back against the wall, close my eyes for a brief moment and can’t help but smile. 

In February 2024, Seen Blue member Malia Lukl dove into the world of shark conservation alongside the non profit Organisation Saving the Blue in Jupiter, Florida. As a biology student and ocean enthusiast, she spent 10 days on a shark tagging mission.

Saving the Blue is particularly interested in this area along Florida’s coastline because it is a unique meeting point for various shark species. They focus their conservation effort on Scalloped Hammerheads and Great Hammerheads, as these species have experienced a significant decline in population numbers over the last decades.

The goal of shark tagging is to have a data set that helps policy makers in coming up with management strategies that allow efficient conservation. One of the most important aspects for effective management therefore is to understand where the animals are located. Knowledge about their movement pattern ensures a better understanding of where and how they might encounter fishing gear that threatens their survival. Further studies that they’re able to conduct thanks to the collected data ensure that we understand more and more how we can maintain a healthy marine ecosystem. 

To gather this information, the sharks are equipped with a satellite transmitter; every time their dorsal fin cuts through the ocean’s surface, their location is automatically transmitted to a satellite. But there is far more to be earned through shark tagging than satellite data. 

First, single hook setups are attached to a long line and two buoys. The moment a shark bites the hook, one or both buoys disappear from the surface, depending on the size of the shark. The team on the boat reels the line in by hand and as soon as the shark is next to the boat, they use three points of contact with the animal. One person is stabilizing the head of the shark making sure it does not hit the boat, the second person reaches for the dorsal fin, and the third person secures a rope around the shark’s tail. From the dorsal fin or from the body beneath it they take genetic samples like fin clips and muscle samples that give them important insight in the shark’s stock compositions, skin components and its position in the food chain. Then an external marker tag is secured onto the dorsal fin which helps them to keep track of their shark when it’s caught by fishermen or other scientists. Next, they place a tiny, passive integrated transponder (PIT) under the shark’s skin. It is not bigger than a rice corn, but opens the door to years of knowledge about one specific shark and is similar to the microchips we use for dogs. The chip can be quickly scanned in case of rechatching it. And only for the last step the fin mounted satellite tag is attached. 

What poses the severest threat to this incredible work? The time. During the entire process of tagging, they have a timer running and strictly stick to their time limit so that they do not stress the animals unnecessarily. Hammerheads in particular are, in fact, extremely sensitive to stress; if they are kept next to the boat for more than 10 minutes, their post release mortality rate is 50%, which means that the scientists have about fifteen minutes time to do their research from the disappearance of the buoys to the release of the shark. 

Data sets collected in this way are incredibly valuable in driving change for the species, making management and conservation efforts as informed and efficient as possible. As not everyone of us participates in shark tagging, there are multiple other ways to contribute positively to the matter. This provides an opportunity to deepen our understanding of the ocean and become better stewards, ultimately helping to broaden the reach and impact.

 Each morning began early. We would check the weather, and many days during my time there, the ocean was too rough or the wind too strong to proceed with our mission without endangering both ourselves and the sharks. On those days, we focused on preparing the tags and structuring and analyzing previously collected data. On the days the weather favored us, we equipped the boat, triple-checked everything, and embarked on adventures that sometimes stretched to 20 hours out on the open ocean, keeping us awake for almost 40 hours. For me, whether on land or at sea, every moment was infused with inspiration. Being surrounded by pioneering shark scientists and immersing myself in their groundbreaking work provided me with insights and practical knowledge that no university class could have ever taught me. But it wasn’t just the people who enriched my experience. The sharks themselves, and the rare and profound interactions I was fortunate enough to have with them, revealed their intelligence and remarkable nature. These encounters deepened my fascination with the ocean and strengthened my passion for its conservation more than ever.

An Article by: Carolina Leiter

Interview with : Malia Lukl