Sharing the Shoreline with Sharks
By Safina Center Fellow Marlowe Starling
A 14-foot pregnant tiger shark is positioned beside the Garvin for scientific assessment. ©Field School
With few clouds and full sun, I was grateful for the wide-brimmed hat and UV-blocking fishing shirt I decided to wear onboard the University of Miami’s research vessel, the Garvin. The Field School—which collects data on sharks and rays for its department’s marine biology research—takes this boat out several times a week to catch, tag, draw blood from, biopsy, measure, and then release as many sharks as its scientists and students can. The data they collect helps inform a long list of research projects on specific species, population dynamics, shark ecology, and more.
Starling hauls in the rope line for the 14-foot tiger shark. ©Field School
We were only about two and a half miles offshore of Key Biscayne when we caught our third shark of the day. “Who’s up?” one of the Field School members called out, inviting someone to haul in the heavy baited rope. A few seconds of silence was all I needed to volunteer for the labor-intensive task. With staggered legs for leverage, my arms alternated tugs as I slowly brought in the line. Finally, we saw a shadow.
A big shadow.
Soon enough, the leopard-looking skin of a 14-foot tiger shark glistened beneath the ocean’s surface. It was beautiful—and massive. Too big for the submerged landing at the rear of the Garvin designed as a holding shelf for the sharks, the Field School carefully guided the tiger shark alongside the boat for their assessment. Then came an exciting surprise: She’s pregnant!
Florida’s shorelines are well known for their shark diversity, but the oceanic apex predators are far from thriving. The past half-century has witnessed a decline of roughly 70% of the world’s shark populations, according to the latest research, despite widespread campaigns to discourage shark-fin soup consumption. That’s because shark finning for soup isn’t the biggest threat to sharks; it’s overfishing.
University of Miami’s Field School research team take an ultrasound of a pregnant tiger shark. ©Field School
During my reporting for The Marjorie, I also learned that the Shark Fin Sales Elimination Act of 2023 — which banned the possession, sale, export, or import of all shark fins in the U.S. — has had less of an effect on shark deaths than we might realize. Shark finning is an unsustainable and cruel practice used on the high seas worldwide, when fishermen slice off the fins of a shark and then dump the (still living) body back into the ocean, where the shark will sink to the seafloor and die. This practice has been illegal in U.S. waters since 1993, but it was still legal to sell the fins of sharks that were “landed” (or brought back to land from a fishing trip) whole. Unsurprisingly, fins have always been the most valuable part of a shark, comprising up to 60% of the shark’s total worth. The fin ban completely changed that. Now, fishermen who legally land whole sharks are required to throw the fins in the trash—a loss of income and a waste of meat.
In the U.S., the idea of eating shark meat at all might seem odd, repulsive even. But take a closer look at seafood markets, grocery stores, and restaurants in Florida and elsewhere in the Southeast, and it won’t take long to find shark steaks on the menu. Yet a widespread Western misconception, no thanks to irresponsibly framed media about sharks, remains that eating shark meat is ethically wrong. In reality? Not so much. Though debated among scientists and fisheries experts, sustainable shark fisheries can exist for certain species. And in some cases, such as the U.S. fin ban, excluding ourselves from the shark-fin economy could allow poor fishing practices to proliferate elsewhere.
Starling cuts a small cartilage sample from the fin of a nurse shark. ©Field School
Starling cuts a small cartilage sample from the fin of a nurse shark. ©Field School
Still, sharks are doing better. There have been improvements in some shark populations thanks to research and management actions. But in a place like Florida, even a slight increase in shark interactions with the state’s multibillion-dollar fishing industry can seem like a lot.
Now, a phenomenon known as depredation is plaguing frustrated anglers. It’s when sharks or other predators snatch fish from the end of fishing lines before anglers can reel their catch up to the boat. Anecdotally, depredation has become a bigger problem than ever before. But scientifically, the reasons why these interactions have increased are still unclear.
“As long as people perceive something as a problem, it is a problem, because perception is reality,” shark scientist and Safina Center Fellow alum Jasmin Graham told me.
Depredation has become a problem for so many anglers that there is now a federal bill under consideration in the Senate targeting this very issue. The SHARKED Act, as it’s been dubbed, would create a task force specifically designed to tackle this problem with research funds and a team of curated experts to find solutions. But the anti-shark rhetoric from anglers across the country that there are “too many” sharks risks entering a slippery slope. Killing sharks, Graham and other scientists emphasize, is not the answer.
Our society has long treated sharks with a combination of wonder, awe, fascination, and above all, fear. And while the blockbuster film “Jaws” is easily many shark fanatics’ favorite movie, it marked the beginning of a pattern villainizing animals that are actually pinnacles of a healthy marine ecosystem.
Growing up, my own mother harbored a strange mix of admiration for and fear of these animals. Like so many people, she has fantasized about going for a cage dive in some exotic offshore location, and has acquired an impressive collection of shark-themed paraphernalia over the years. So, last summer, she couldn’t fathom what I was about to do: snorkel with sharks in the open ocean.
I drove north to Riviera Beach to meet Ryan Walton, who operates Shark Tours Florida. Unlike many other shark experiences, Ryan prizes education and preaches respect for the animals he, too, has always found fascinating. Equipped with nothing but a snorkel mask, flippers, and a wetsuit, we prepared to slip into the Atlantic Ocean’s deep-blue water to hopefully catch a glimpse of some sharks.
Divers with Shark Tours Florida prepare to head underwater. ©Marlowe Starling
I wasn’t nervous, but my reaction surprised me.
Following all the safety protocols, I slipped into the water from the back of the boat feet-first, and dipped my head below the surface. There, swimming below us, were more than a dozen silky and sandbar sharks. My snorkel mask became blurred; I was crying. It was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.
Ryan takes clients out on his boat to see sharks every day. For him and his family, sharks aren’t merely a business; they’re a way to connect with the ocean, a place humans have feared and admired for as long as we have existed. But fear only stalls, not encourages, progress.
Achieving healthy shark populations, Jasmin says, means achieving healthy oceans. And to do that, we need to get over the fears seeded by popular media and skewed narratives about sharks.
As I watched filtered sunlight dance across the dorsals of the sharks swimming below and beside me that day, I felt no fear.
Stay tuned for The Marjorie’s three-part series to learn more about Florida’s role in sustainable shark management and our relationship with these misrepresented species. Safina Center Fellow Marlowe Starling traveled throughout the state of Florida to report these stories.