The New England Aquarium

 

Ian C. Stewart

 

 

When I think of Boston, Massachusetts, my favorite city in the world, many great things come to mind. Among them are the American Revolution, awesome seafood, Sam Adams Boston Lager and lots of Irish people. But the place in this great city that sticks out the most in my mind is the one that had the most meaningful impact on my childhood: the New England Aquarium. As a lover of the ocean and all the wonderfully strange things that inhabit its mysterious depths, aquariums have been my favorite tourist attractions since I was five years old. I am firmly convinced that in another life, one where I never moved to the Midwest, I would have become a marine biologist. Aside from film production, marine biology is the only career I ever seriously considered. My interest in the topic was spawned from my many trips to the Aquarium during the first half of my life, when I was growing up in Marlborough, Massachusetts. I have since been to nearly every major aquarium in the country, and while the Shedd in Chicago may top Boston as the nation's best, the New England Aquarium still holds a special place in my heart. Thus, it should come as no surprise that I purchased an annual membership when I learned I would be attending Emerson College, the campus of which is an easy fifteen-minute stroll from the aquarium. The New England Aquarium is Boston's finest tourist attraction and a place that people, especially children, of all different backgrounds can enjoy. The aquarium tends to be packed with visitors, mostly families with young children, and it is not hard to determine why; it houses several fantastic exhibits that are sure to leave young visitors awestruck. My most recent visit to the aquarium occurred last Sunday.

 

Upon entering the New England Aquarium, the first thing I see is a pool of water inhabited by African penguins, a favorite of many visitors. These small black and white penguins are sometimes known as jackass penguins due to the braying sound they make, not because of their crude behavior. However, one who has watched these aquatic birds for as long as I have should know that they are as devious as they are cute. During my visit two weeks ago, I witnessed one penguin peck another repeatedly, causing it to topple from the precipice of a rock and into the water below. They are more benign today, perhaps because they are all eagerly anticipating a treat from the wetsuit-clad aquarium staff who had just entered their enclosure with a bucket of anchovies. Moving on from the African penguins, I arrive at the enclosure of their tinier cousins, the little blues. These Australian penguins are aptly named, as their feathers have a bluish tint and they are the world's smallest species of penguins, standing at about a foot tall. Even more rambunctious than their African relatives, I see, not for the first time, one of the little blues mount another and attempt to mate, only to be kicked off, earning laughter from my fellow visitors. Hearing a resounding squawk, I proceed to my favorite species of penguin, the rockhopper. With their distinctive yellow plumage and namesake tendency to hobble and hop across rocks, these noisy, enigmatic birds are put on quite the show, as they often do around feeding hour. Dozens of my fellow visitors crowd around to watch the popular flightless seabirds dine on anchovies, while making a deafening ruckus in the process.

 

Having spent enough time with the penguins, I approach the two-hundred-thousand gallon cylindrical coral reef tank which forms the centerpiece of the aquarium. Within the tank are thousands of fish and several sea turtles that can be seen milling about the tank from almost anywhere in the aquarium. Walking up the spiral ramp that encircles the tank, I peer through dozens of windows to get all different angles of the artificial coral reef. Regardless of age, there is something awe-inspiring about looking through a window and seeing a school of fish one hundred strong, a stingray, or a tarpon swim past. Eyeing the numerous crevasses of the reef structure may grant sharp-eyed spectators a sight of one of my favorite animals, the Moray eel. I am lucky enough to get a clear view of one today, poking his emerald head out from a cranny of the reef and rhythmically opening and shutting his jaws. Nearby, a scuba diver feeds a large school of fish, including a bat ray, which gracefully glides into the midst of the feeding frenzy. Sea turtles are most likely the tank's most popular inhabitants, and as I near the top of the spiral ramp climbing the tank, one of the massive loggerheads swims overhead, evoking excited babbles from a couple of nearby children. While the endangered aquatic reptiles are quite impressive, I will confess to being jaded toward them in contrast to most because I have had the luck of encountering wild sea turtles while snorkeling in Hawaii on more than one occasion. Reaching the top of the tank, I join a crowd of others in peering down at the many amazing animals I witnessed on my way up, providing a completely different perspective of the exhibit. The largest, coolest animals (sea turtles, tarpons, barracudas, bonnethead sharks) have a preference for the top of the tank, so I linger here longer than at any window. Then I notice what is missing: sharks. The only sharks present are a couple of bonnetheads that are far from the tank's largest denizens. I approach a nearby aquarium employee to question him about this.

 

"Hey, do you know what happened to all the sharks?" I ask the young bearded man, whose tag reveals his name as Jake. "I know there used to be some big ones, sandtigers and the like, when I was a little kid. Now I hardly see any."

"Sorry man, I don't know. I've only been working here for a couple of months," Jake confesses. "They might've gotten rid of them for eating the other fish. That'd be my guess."

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too."

"Hey, we've still got lots of cool stuff," Jake says with a chuckle.

"Oh, definitely. Especially the Moray eels," I note, spotting another one wriggling through the crevasses of the upper reef before descending to its lower levels; a rare sight.

"I love the eels too, man. You know what's really wicked about them? They have a second set of jaws down in their throats. Pharyngeal jaws I think they're called."

"That's cool. I didn't know that," I reply. In truth, I probably did at some point, but I have forgotten many of my marine bio factoids. "The eel is my spirit animal."

"What?" Jake asks with a laugh.

"It's an inside joke with my friends," I explain. "Long story."

I discover from an Internet search later that day that the sandtiger sharks were removed following 2014 renovations because they are not a species that inhabit Caribbean coral reefs and were thus out of place in the tank. All the same, I think it is a shame the aquarium got rid of its biggest, baddest species.

 

My favorite pattern to view the aquarium's attractions is to watch the penguins, ascend the spiraling ramp beside the giant reef tank and then view the other, smaller exhibits on my way back down, just as I do today. One of these smaller tanks showcases a Giant Pacific octopus, my absolute favorite animal. Octopi are fascinating creatures and the Giant Pacific octopus is the largest of its species. With a combination of attributes that includes intelligence comparable to a primate, eight suction-cupped arms that allow them to demonstrate their problem-solving skills, the ability to fit through a hole the size of their beaks, and being able to camouflage themselves instantly, the octopus is about as cool as animals come. Thus, it is a shame the New England Aquarium's specimen tends to hide in the corner of his tank. Two visits ago, however, I was fortunate enough to see it glide across the tank, its tendrils expanding like wings to create the illusion that it was flying. But on this visit, as usual, the octopus just squeezes into the corner of his tank, his sporadically furling and unfurling tentacles the only things moving. The remainder of the exhibits I view on the way back down are cool, but not as memorable. I linger for a while by the Amazon River exhibit to pay tribute to the freshwater variation of my spirit animal, the electric eel. Then I am treated to the sight of the aquarium's typically stationary anaconda slithering out of the pool in his tank. I decide getting to see the lazy serpent move for once compensates in some measure for the octopus. Having enjoyed my morning at the New England Aquarium, I prepare to leave. But as I look upon the throngs of people just arriving, a realization occurs to me.

 

When I visit the New England Aquarium, I usually do not pay much attention to my fellow human beings since they are far more boring than sharks and penguins. But now that I do examine my fellow aquarium visitors, I discover that one demographic is noticeably missing. As I stated earlier, the majority of visitors are parents and their young children; unfortunately, not everyone retains their love of fish when they age as I have. There was a fairly good ethnic diversity present today, and on my many previous visits; I would say that a solid half the aquarium's visitors were white, but seeing as the United States still has a white majority despite growing racial diversity, this should not come as much of a surprise. Though there were less of them, I noticed quite a few Asian, Black, and Hispanic families as well. Also, while there were not too many of them, I did see some elderly individuals, most likely grandparents escorting young children, struggling against the crowds. The demographic that I have noticed is almost completely absent from the New England Aquarium is teenagers and young adults. I am one of about a dozen people between the ages of thirteen and twenty-five who was present in the aquarium during my visit today. Seeing as several hundred people were touring the aquarium alongside me, this is definitely unusual. I initially brush this off as being because most other teenagers have lost their interest in marine life, but then an alternate possibility occurs to me: ticket prices. Thanks to my $99 annual membership all I have to do is show the employees a card and I am welcomed in like family, free of charge. I can also bring a guest to every visit for free. But as I approach the exit and stare at the ticket booth, I am shocked to discover that most visitors have to pay a whopping $26.95 for adults and $17.95 for children over three years of age; the equivalent of a gourmet meal at Legal Sea Foods across the street. That means if a young couple with two children were to visit the New England Aquarium, they would be paying around $90 for a two to three hour experience. For young parents with limited cash resources, this is extremely expensive, which honestly makes me impressed so many parents do bring their children to the aquarium; I would assume most have memberships like me. This also explains the lack of teenagers. Why would any college student pay almost $30 to look at fish when they could do so many other cool things in Boston for free, or at least much cheaper? If I lacked my handy membership, even I would probably have been to the New England Aquarium just once or twice since moving back to Boston with prices this substantial.

 

It is truly unfortunate the New England Aquarium is so expensive. Everyone should be able to view its wonderful menagerie of sea life with their families, not just those who have a lot of cash at their disposal and those who have purchased a membership as I have. I know taking care of all those fish and other species must be awfully expensive, but based on the crowds I saw today, the aquarium does damn fine business. Even when I came out to the aquarium during this year's brutal winter, it was pretty packed. I believe if the New England Aquarium were to cut its prices in half, they could still sustain their attractions and would draw an even more significant crowd. $15 for adults and $10 for children seems perfectly fair to me.

 

As I leave the aquarium behind, I meander for a few moments by the harbor seal tank. I am always amused by the way the seals aimlessly loop around and swim upside down. Fittingly, I overhear a man complaining to his girlfriend about the prices as they exit the aquarium.

 

"Here, let's just look at the seals. That's free," he grumbles, bringing a smile to my face. I continue on past the crowded ticket line and the IMAX Theatre before I pause and turn to take one final look at the building where I made many of my favorite childhood memories. While it is far more expensive than it should be, the New England Aquarium remains one of the greatest places in Boston, I would strongly recommend it to anyone who has some spare cash, and some time to kill.