Beaky
. . . a wild, bottle-nose dolphin who came to Falmouth in 1977 to make friends with
the people, swim with the children and cause havoc to boat owners!
In the opening pages of my novel FERRYMAN, Beaky gets a mention. Although he had only a swim on -- swim off role to play, the fact that he was a true character has caused interest. His
activities earned him notoriety in Cornwall in the late seventies; his name cropped up in the local newspapers, a book and
even a film recording his unusual behaviour with man.
My
first encounter with Beaky was an eerie one. One summer evening in 1977, my husband and I sat in our boat, anchored in the
small fishing village of Flushing, opposite Falmouth, for a quiet sundowner. All around us, empty boats sat silent on their
moorings. There was no wind, and very little tide running. Then, for no apparent reason, a small boat moored nearby took off
at speed, ran the length of its chain then snapped to a halt. Another boat did the same thing, and a third. On such a peaceful
evening, it was quite unnerving. We watched and wondered at its cause. The culprit eventually came to the surface to blow,
and we were delighted to see it was a bottlenose dolphin.
From
then on, our weekend sailing was enlivened as we set out to find the dolphin that very quickly gained a reputation. Dubbed
Beaky, he played in the shallows to the delight of swimming children. He presented himself at the docks early some mornings
for a back scratch from the brooms of the workers there. One of his less sociable traits was to pick up anchors and tow boats
away, which made him less than popular with some of the sailing fraternity. One boat, a 31ft catamaran, he towed for half
a mile down river before the owners, asleep on board, woke up and saw what was happening. Another time, he set other moored
boats moving and caused them to collide. The stories of his pranks are endless. Our favourites, naturally, are our personal
encounters.
One
afternoon we were out sailing with our family of three children in the Fal Estuary when our eldest, sixteen-year-old Robert
asked for a tow – a favourite sport when we were on the motor, which entailed one of them being towed along behind the
boat while holding onto a rubber tyre.
Within
a very short time, Rob found he had company. Beaky swam along beside him. Sometimes Beaky would disappear only to pop up like
jack-in-the-box from the deep, right beside him, in a whirl of foam. Other times the dolphin kept pace, or swam beneath him,
or changed from side to side before gently nudging him. Rob put his hand out, held onto Beaky’s dorsal fin and let go
of the tyre. Immediately, the dolphin swam off at a tangent taking Rob for the ride of his life.
Our
25 hp diesel would take us along at a good 8 knots, but we were unable to keep up with the dolphin swimming away with our
son.
They
swam out into the bay and I was hard pushed to keep them in sight. Fortunately, a young man in a speedboat had been hovering
nearby. He set off after them and kept watch. The dolphin gave Rob several rides, starting slowly and building up his speed,
until Rob could hold on no longer. Each time he lost his grip the dolphin circled and came back to him, offering his
fin once more. We caught up with them and continued to watch.
After
about half an hour of this, Rob began to tire and I could see he was cold. As we drew near to the boy and the dolphin, Rob
turned towards us and tried to swim for the boat. Beaky interfered with his progress and came between the boat and the boy.
After a few minutes I think he sensed Rob had had enough, because he stopped that and watched as we pulled our son up the
ladder onto the boat. Then Beaky turned away and swam off, maybe looking for someone else to play with.
We
thanked the young man in the speedboat who turned out to be a dolphin watcher. He later wrote an article about Beaky in a
science magazine and recorded this incident.
We
had several more encounters with Beaky, but none quite so dramatic.
The
last we saw of him was later in the year, the season over, the boat laid up for the winter we stood on the cliff
top on Pendennis Point overlooking Falmouth Bay. Out there in the middle of the bay we spotted a lone dolphin. He swam
around, leapt in the air and looked like a lonesome kid waiting for his friends to come out and play. We never saw him again.
If
anyone ever heard what happened to him after that year, I would love to hear about it. Identification is easy, Beaky had a
white scar on the top of his head, near his blow hole.
