Are there sharks on Fuerteventura?

Even here on Fuerteventura - the word Shark triggers a nervous twitch from us surfers. After my alter ego wrote a guest post on dangerous animals last week, we want to talk about "Sharks on Fuerteventura" this week.

Hello my dears,

my alter-ego has vividly documented the wildlife of Fuerteventura for you last week, today I will take over again to give you something unpleasant about "sharks on Fuerteventura" for us surfers.

Who is going cold down your back?
The shark is finally considered the natural predator of the surfer. Our seal-like silhouette irritates the same areas in the cerebellum of the shark, like those of a stranded sailor at the sight of a rum bottle.

More comparisons?
Or a few facts and figures about the teeth of the shark?
For example, to grow this one lifetime?
Stop! ... we do not want to humiliate our older readers.

I went in search of you and located the last living Haijäger Fuerteventura.

In a remote village in the interior I meet the brothers Tiburón: Jesus, Angel, Jose and the somewhat apathetic Bob.

Me: "Hello, great that you have agreed to a meeting, I have some important questions about sharks."

The four look at me, a fly buzzes close to my ear, in the far distance I hear the crackle of an old two-stroke-driven tractor.

I delineate my question a bit and shout into the silence: "Sharks?"

Jose jumps up and shouts, "Where?"
Angel calmly puts a mutilated hand on his shoulder and pulls him back onto the bench.
Jesus coughs, clears his throat, starts to speak and then falls silent again.
Finally, he looks at me from below with an incredulous look and asks, "Where?"

Me: "Yes, I wanted to ask you. I'm told you're the last shark hunter of Fuerteventura. "

"That's us" says Jesus in a stifled voice, "unfortunately you will not find any trophies here and we can not tell you any stories about rescuing small coastal villages, because no one here has ever killed a shark."

"But ..." I point to the right hand of Angel, who no longer allows him to show the raised middle finger or to order a beer for more than three of the brothers at the same time.

"Ah," says Jesus, "the good Angel has been repairing the mowers of tractors for many years." He nods in the direction of the agricultural engine noise, "instead of books on sharks, he should have studied some mechanical basics."

Jesus goes on hesitantly, "We are probably the only hawks in the Atlantic who have never killed a shark. From childhood we trained to hunt sharks. We were able to hold our breath for a few minutes and spent the night in the kennel of Uncle Alejandro's shepherd dogs. Angel has built an underwater cage for Bob so he can look for sharks off the coast of Pajara. Look at him! "

I ask, "The cage?"

Jesus answers almost irritably, "No, Bob. Do you think his name is that because our mother no longer liked our father? "

I take a closer look at Bob. His eyes try to fix a point somewhere on the horizon. His cheeks are slightly puffed and he intermittently small amounts of air from the full mouth. The sound is similar to the sound of his first name.

"Mmmmmhhhh" - with this phonetic interlude I try to break the silence and give myself time to formulate the next questions.
"Mmmmmmhhhhhh" - time seems to be different for the four brothers than for me. No one finds this forced conversation break uncomfortable. Jose enters my mantric hum almost imperceptibly. Jesus commands him rest with an implied backhand bong.

I start a sentence whose end I still do not know and as I speak I try to arrange my thoughts. "Then I am, so I wanted to say, I mean ..."

"Hombre," Angel says, looking thoughtfully at the part of his hand that is supposed to be wearing a wedding ring.
"Hombre," he says again with a strong cough. His voice is so hoarse that I can barely guess the vowels. "Hombre, there are no sharks here."

"But ..." finally I have a question, but Angel interrupts me ...

"Si Hombre, small reef sharks - I know. Hombre, we are shark hunters and not animal abusers. "
After a pause, he says, "Leave us alone Hombre. Look at my brother Jose, it will take a few days to talk to us again. "

Jose, who unnoticed started to hum again, is called to order by Jesus.

"Now go Hombre and come back if you've seen a shark," Angel says, not taking his eyes off me.
Jose looks down embarrassed.
Jesus strictly looks at Jose.
Bob's lips release a soft "Bob" and I know it's time for me to leave.

The conversation went differently than I thought, yet the most important question is answered.