The Sea and the Cave 67 



at a signal the whole school swam off. As they disappeared, 

 the animals rolled gently in order to breathe, but they 

 hardly cut the surface of the water. 



Another morning I like to tliink about was when the 

 Utoivana lay anchored off the mouth of the Yaqui River 

 at the head of the Gulf of Samana in the Dominican Re- 

 public. The muddy water of the river pushed out into the 

 clear turquoise-blue water of the Gulf, with the line of 

 division sharply marked since the dirty fresh water did 

 not readily mix with the clean salt water of the ocean. An 

 extraordinary procession patrolled the boundary line. Giant 

 rays went flying through the water, their great wings flap- 

 ping, each one as big as the top of a grand piano, and 

 some larger. They were so near the surface that their 

 great fins came up into the air as they flapped their way 

 along, and every once in a while one would leap high and 

 land with a resounding whack. This kept on pretty much 

 all day. 



One would naturally suppose that they were feeding, 

 and yet these great fish are normally bottom feeders. With 

 their protrudable lips they pick up clams or conchs on 

 the bottom and crush them with their curiously modified, 

 flat, platelike teeth. In the Oceanarium at Marineland, in 

 Florida, they had a ray which picked hard clams off the 

 bottom, and I could hear them crack. The crunch which 

 ground them up was so powerful that the noise carried 

 through the plate glass. 



It is a pity that the Gulf of Samana is not readily acces- 

 sible to visitors. It is one of the loveliest spots in the whole 

 world. On the north side the mountains rise, covered with 

 a fine green forest. Down the mountain roads the peasants 



