Look, let me get this out of the way right at the start of this: I’m a bull shark. What’d you expect from me?
What was I supposed to do when you started dumping all those delicious, oily, greasy morsels of who knows what into the water shed?
That’s the stuff I like, for pete’s sake. Not just the stuff I like, but the stuff I am absolutely delighted to find a mere morsel of after days of searching.
Seriously, how could you not expect me to swim up that giant mouth of taste heaven looking for where all those flavors and smells were coming from? I’ve eaten the fenders off of old Edsels out of sheer boredom. This was like mana from proverbial heaven.
But, I guess would be something more like tuna from heaven for us.
Alls I’m saying is that when I come up in the middle of a bunch of you hairless monkey things riding plastic dolphins things in the middle of a muddy river, it’s not my fault when I take a bite out of the nearest thing to find out what it is.
I’m a shark, after all.
I am not a clever animal.
Every year, a few bored bull sharks somehow wander their way up the Mississippi River. Most times, no one ever knows they are there. But, sometimes they get desperate and strike out at humans. There have been reports of attack as far north Saint Louis. Now, imagine what a bull shark would think if it happened to pass by Memphis in the middle the annual canoe and kayak race at Mud Island. You could hardly blame it for wanting to find out if any of those things were edible, could you?