BY SEAN MacKENDRICK
Copyright is held by the author.
The Pod Podcast Ep 40: Shrimp Love Dolly Parton, Dolphins Prefer Chuck Berry
Transcript excerpt
[waves crashing]
Keith: Look right here, you see the slack in this wire? That shouldn’t be there.
Elna: How often do you check?
Keith: [laughs] Not as often as we should.
Elna (voice over): Keith Olamide can boast many titles: Doctor of Marine Biology; Co-Director of the Oceanographic Institute of Delaware; Occasional Lecturer at the Delaware Museum of Natural History. And, today?
Keith: Not much of a crew available to make it out to the piers and perform maintenance these days.
Elna (v.o.): Today he is Maintenance and Repair of Underwater Speakers at Chesapeake Bay.
Elna: Where’s the rest of the crew?
Keith: You’re looking at it.
Elna: So, when you say crew, you mean…
Keith: I mean me.
Elna: You’re it?
Keith: I’m it.
[title sequence plays]
Elna (v.o.): On a sunny Tuesday morning I drove up the coast to The Greater Chesapeake Waterfront Authority. It’s a beautiful drive. The destination, not so much. If I hadn’t been searching for it, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the plain, small, cinderblock building. I only knew to look for it at all thanks to the local county clerk’s office. I had gone looking for information about upcoming beach closures and wanted to know if we could expect more frequent closures as ocean temperatures rise. No one in the clerk’s office elected to go on record. They did, however, point me towards the Waterfront Authority and its sole long-term occupant.
[sound of a car door opening and closing]
Elna: I think this is the right place?
Elna (v.o.): Free classes take place in the nondescript building semi-regularly, about once a week in the spring and summer. Topics include, but are not limited to, fishing techniques, the dangers of overfishing, the effects of ocean currents on local weather, origami, and bread making. It’s a varied curriculum, all led by one man: Doctor Keith Olamide.
[a door opens]
Elna: Hello?
Keith: Hi!
Elna (v.o.): I don’t think Keith was expecting company. He met me at the door dressed in overalls, wearing rubber boots, and carrying a big metal toolbox. Not the look of a man eager to sit and discuss public beach schedules.
Elna: Hi, my name is Elna Clausen, I was told you were the guy I needed to talk to…
[fades out]
Elna (v.o.): I explained to Keith who I was and why I was looking for him. He hadn’t ever listened the podcast but had heard of it, he assured me. Keith said yes, he probably was the right person to talk to about beach closures, when he had the time. He adjusted his grip on his toolbox, which I took as a hint.
Elna: Are you heading out right now?
Keith: I was planning to. Tell you what, how about we talk while I work?
Elna: Of course, what sort of work?
Keith: I need to check the fish speakers.
Elna (v.o.): The fish speakers.
Keith: That’s we call them, even though these are set up for an experiment with coral, not fish. It’s all based on a working theory that sound waves can encourage reef growth. With so many of the reefs bleaching, we’re trying just about anything. [laughs] I recognize that look you’re giving me. You’re not the first one to question the experiment.
Elna: You play sounds to the coral?
Keith: We’re playing music to the coral.
Elna (v.o.): A huge map of the bay covered one of the inside walls of the Waterfront Authority lobby. Keith pointed out seventeen orange pins in the map’s shoreline, where speakers pumped out vibrations in a desperate attempt to reverse the dying habitats, which is happening here the same way it’s happening in so many places around the world.
Keith: Come on, I’ll show you.
[waves crashing]
[sound of digging in sand]
Keith: There! The connection came loose right here.
Elna: OK.
[sound of a toolbox rattling]
Keith: These connections are designed to give way really easily, just in case anything gets tangled in the cord. We’d rather lose a speaker than strangle a shark. Which means they need to be reconnected a lot.
Elna (v.o.): The speaker locations spanned three miles of beach length. No trail or walkway to speak of. Keith made walking across deep wet sand look easy. It was not.
[heavy breathing]
Elna: I can’t imagine why no one else wants to help you do this.
Keith: [laughs] Ah, come on. It’s not so bad!
Elna (v.o.): Whenever we reached a speaker location, I pretended to adjust my recording equipment long enough to catch my breath while Keith raised the equipment out of the water.
[chains clanking]
Elna (v.o.): The speakers sit suspended from a pulley overhanging the shoreline. I’m not sure how deep they go, exactly. Keith cranked for a while before the speakers rose out of the water.
[Five seconds of “Staying Alive”]
Elna (v.o.): The first one was playing the Bee Gees.
Keith: That’s more like it! The connection seems to be good now. There’s some algae build up I’d like to clear but we can skip it for now. I’ll switch this one to Chuck Berry to clear it off.
Elna: What do you mean?
Keith: Chuck Berry attracts the smaller fishes. Those feed on algae. They aren’t so big on disco. That’s really what started the whole thing.
Elna: What whole thing?
Keith: Learning what types of music different aquatic life enjoys.
Elna (v.o.) I’ll be honest, I assumed he was joking. Not because what he said was outrageous, necessarily, but the way he talked about the music, so nonchalant, as though musical preferences of sea life was well-known fact which he assumed I must already know. It reminded me of the tone my older brother used when I was young and he convinced me that watermelon seeds could take root in my stomach and grow until they had to operate to remove baby watermelons from my intestines. My brother was a jerk who just wanted all the watermelon to himself. I wasn’t sure about Keith’s goals.
Keith: Playing music to wildlife is nothing new. Humanity has been playing music to dogs and cats, plants, whatever, basically since we’ve had recorded music. I think it was the Australians using flute music to dolphins, trying to get them to respond with their own tunes, that’s how they discovered the algae thing. Most people play operas, or Beethoven, old stuff that’s cheap and you don’t need to stress about copyright issues. Someone in the lab decided to spice it up a bit, though.
Elna: With Chuck Berry.
Keith: Exactly. Well, eventually: it probably wasn’t Chuck Berry at first. They tried different rock music, some hard, some soft, and Chuck was the clear winner in the end. Everyone assumed it was the vibrations doing something to the algae’s ability to cling, but a few underwater cameras showed a whole school of parrotfish attracted to Johnny Be Good. Don’t give me that expression. Look it up, they published a paper on it.
Elna: I am going to look it up. And I will be calling you afterward.
Keith: Please do!
[footsteps in sand, heavy breathing]
Keith: Those cameras also found that when they played Madonna, the algae actually grew faster, because the parrotfish still came but were being eaten by reef sharks which now showed up in droves. Or moray eels maybe, you’ll need to check that.
Elna (v.o.): It was reef sharks. Yes, I checked. The paper does exist, in the Journal of Experimental Biology. I did in fact look it up. It was not a joke. It really sounded like a joke.
Keith: The studies went crazy a few years back. Various places tried all kinds of different genres, from chanting monks to death metal and everything in between. Quite a bit of death metal, in fact.
Elna: The fish like death metal?
Keith: Not so much. One of the biggest financial backers of these studies was this guy, Elias Karvala, an investment banker and part-time drummer in a Finnish death metal band. Um, Chasmatus, I want to say? The name is something like that. He was paying for the work and suggested his band’s songs be included. Those Finns are insane!
Elna (v.o.) For the record, and especially for the benefit of any Finnish listeners, I do believe he meant that as a compliment.
Keith: It didn’t work. Songs with the clearest vocals attracted the most sea life. Bad news for Beethoven and all that orchestral stuff in the public domain. And I guess the death metal lyrics just aren’t audible enough.
Elna: Maybe they should have tried podcasts. I could recommend one.
Keith: [laughs] They should have. Everyone was sure the music itself was the key for so long. Eventually some experiments focused on the vocals themselves, and someone went so far as cut songs into individual words played on a loop, to see if lyrics themselves mattered. And they sure did. Certain words drove the critters wild!
Some biology post doc working in data science aggregated all those studies, and broke it down even further, looking for certain syllables in those words that might be the key. If “forward” and “forsake” both brought the sea snakes in, he figured “for” was the important part. And I guess he found a compelling pattern. He sent a list around that detailed what syllables should attract whatever species had been included in at least one such study.
Elna: Do you have that list?
Keith: I think so. Or, no, I know someone who might have it handy. One sec, let me text Wil.
Elna: What did you guys do with that information?
Keith: Not a whole lot of anything. By that point the funding was drying up. The investment drummer probably got tired of his band being excluded. But also, sound doesn’t travel the same underwater, you know? There’s a reason that whale songs are all moans and whistles, and not The Pirates of Penzance. The idea that flounders could discern English syllables is absurd.
Elna: Wait, so then what do think explains the behavior?
Keith: Heck if I know. You should ask an expert in vibrational mechanics. I’m just trying to save some coral.
[a phone alert pings]
Keith: Wil sent the list! I knew she’d have it. Wil used to joke about how we should record a song using just the syllables.
Elna (v.o.): Keith forwarded the list to me later, after we stopped recording. It says things like “Sea Turtles: Dee, Lee, Loh, Oh, No, Vah” And, “Sea lions: An, Gel, Mah, Roe, Vee.” And, “Squid: Dee, Oh, Ree, Vah.”
Keith: I still remember the name. The song was going to be called “Angel, Viva, Toro, Marine.” I should see if she still has the lyrics. They were nonsense, always made me laugh.
Elna (v.o.): “An”: barracudas, trout, minnows, sea lions. “Gel”: Saltwater eels, orcas, great white sharks, fin whales, sea lions. “Vee”: octopi, sea lions, freshwater eels, tuna, narwhals. “Vah”: Squid, salmon, dolphins, shrimp. Angel. Viva.
Keith: OK, here’s the next one. Let’s see.
[chains clank]
Keith: Yeah, I can already tell this one needs to be reconnected.
***
Jin paused the podcast playing over the small cabin’s blue tooth speakers and eyed the horizon, chewing on his lower lip. He stepped onto the deck. “Mr. Di Vittorio? Sir?
Di Vittorio opened one eye. “What’s up?”
“I’m afraid we need to head in early. I don’t like the look of those clouds to the west. Weather service says rain is unlikely and should miss us, but I’d rather not risk it.”
Di Vittorio ran a hand over his reddened face and sat up straight. He nodded and downed the last bit of beer from the open can in his lap. “I hear you. Let’s do it.”
Two girls splashed in the water while a third sat cross legged on the cooler holding the remains of their lunch and drinks, reading a book. Di Vittorio leaned over the railing. “Hey girls, let’s pack it in. We’re heading back to the hotel. I know, I know, we’ll try to come back out tomorrow.”
The boat’s engines throbbed to life. As soon as all bodies and equipment were on board, it spun in a slow half circle and made for the shoreline. As the sun dimmed behind the gathering clouds, the wind cooled to a salty chill.
Fran and Lily hustled into the cabin, shivering under their towels. Di Vittorio looked out at his youngest daughter, who stood at the railing staring slack jawed into the waters rushing past. She wore a bathing suit but hadn’t braved a swim yet, on her first visit to the open waters. “Angie,” he called out. “Come inside and warm up.”
She didn’t react. Di Vittorio stepped onto the deck and cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted over the roar of the engines. “Angelina Viviana Maria Di Vittorio! Get in here now!”
The engines quieted as the boat bobbed to a stop in the middle of the water. Di Vittorio poked his head inside the cabin. “Why are we stopping?”
Jin gestured at the boat’s radar screen. “There’s a pod of something in front of us. Dolphins, maybe, it’s hard to tell and there’s all different sizes. Weird that so many would be this far inland. They’re all over, in fact. I’ve never seen this before.”
In the clear blue waters, dark shapes moved under the surface, circling the boat. Di Vittorio walked to the railing and grabbed his daughter’s arm. “Angie. Get inside. Please.”
“They’re all waiting,” Angie whispered. “I can hear them in my head. They’re waiting for me to tell them.”
“Who is waiting? To tell them what?” Somehow Di Vittorio couldn’t break Angie’s grip on the railing. In the dimness of the overcast sunset, Angie’s dark brown eyes appeared almost black. She smiled. Rows, too many rows, of sharp teeth filled her mouth.
“Waiting for me to tell them they can start.”
For miles around them the water began to churn.
***
Sean MacKendrick splits his time between Colorado and Texas in the U.S. When not writing fiction he writes code as a software engineer. You can follow him for updates on BlueSky, X, and Instagram @SeanMacKendrick.