Reflections on the Aquarium Dolphins and Feelings of Nostalgia and Longing

Earlier this week, with my partner visiting me in Baltimore, we visited the National Aquarium. We saw so many fish. Big fish and little fish. Really beautiful fish and super funny looking fish. Fish native to the Chesapeake, and fish native to the furthest places in the world from the Chesapeake. We also saw many other species that captivated us. We watched with amazement as the mean looking shark swam past us at eye level, smiling his vicious smile to show us the rows of razor sharp teeth. We compared the intense color in the little frogs to the array of artificial colors we are so accustomed to in our every day. And we laughed with the playful nature of the waterfowl as they dove underwater in a twirling spiral of feathers. 

Aquariums are quite exciting and intriguing for the vast number of species you can observe so closely – yet I assume I’m not alone in finding it impossible not to simultaneously feel other feelings. Numerous times I heard myself saying “What a little tank for such a big fish…” I couldn’t help but feel a little funny about the way these animals were crammed together, simply for our viewing pleasure. 

We emerged from one exhibit and my partner went off to find the head. Alone, I wandered down a new hallway. All of the funny feelings I was having about the fish being cooped up really came into a much sharper focus as I entered the next exhibit. I climbed the concrete steps and took a seat in the broad semicircle stand that surrounds a series of three different sized pools holding Atlantic Bottlenose Dolphins. 

Immediately my mind flashed back to seeing dolphins in their natural environment. I pictured the dolphins speed. All of them moving together, jumping out of the water, weaving around each other seamlessly. Occasionally they would swim right up to the boat and play in the bow wake, then they would peel off and follow the directions of their instincts to places unknown to myself and my crew members. This image of speed, power and playfulness starkly contrasted to the dolphins I saw before me now. They lolled about in their pools, occasionally one would boop an inflatable beach ball into the air. It was like it was a different animal completely. 

It made me sad for the dolphins. It made me wonder if they had ever lived in the ocean, or if they were born into captivity. Did they ever feel a nostalgia that they didn’t understand? Are they perfectly content with their living conditions because it’s all they’ve known? Does that make it okay?

Dolphins are known to be extremely intelligent animals. But as humans, we often hold ourselves in such high regard that we project our own thoughts and emotions onto other animals. So although the dolphin is feeling something, it likely isn’t “Fuck you, humans, I belong in the ocean.” That feeling belongs to me. 

Given that these emotions are mine, what do they say about my own nostalgia? About my own feelings of being cooped up, of being stuck where I don’t want to be. I have certainly felt that feeling before, like I was the dolphin being held in a place I knew wasn’t right. The problem that I’m imposing on these dolphins is that of not knowing why your present situation is wrong. And not knowing what’s right. And I think that’s a problem that many of us can relate to.  

I don’t have a solution, it’s just food for thought really. Are some of us held in our own captivity? Are we feeling nostalgic, but we’re not quite sure why? Perhaps you were born in the figurative aquarium pool, but there is something pulling you to the figurative ocean. Perhaps there is something pulling you to the literal ocean. Perhaps you should follow that something.