Making Time With A Mako!

By Lon S. Cohen

Forget Jaws. Forget Orca. Forget Moby Dick. A Mako is the shark to hook.

A popular catch out here on the east end of Long Island, the Mako is the subject of a popular shark fishing contest every year. It's no wonder that the fishermen (and women!) flock like a pack of seagulls over a trashcan whenever they announce the tournament.

The Mako is a world-renowned showman for the anglers, with its speed and agility; it makes for a great adversary. People love to see the Mako do its ballet of jumps out of the water when hooked, some up to 20 feet high. This is also a speedy shark, capable of bursts of up to 31 miles per hour when chasing prey. Mighty swift, graceful and full of pure power, this is a star worthy of the Montauk crowds' adoration.

This is why I decided to take the day off and go meet with a Mako out in the sleepy town of Montauk. Off season of course, as all the tourists and vacationers tend to make the Mako understandably skittish. First and foremost, I wanted to know what makes a Mako tick?

Quint is a Mako shark that prowls the coast off of Montauk and is much envied by the other sharks for his striking color and beautifully proportioned bilateral symmetry. I had heard of Quint's quintessential sharkiness, but I was amazed at his coloration and size. At over 13 feet, he cut a masculine pose even reclining in his seat in the anonymous diner where he agreed to meet me.

I sat across from Quint, who was just finishing a plate of mackerel and herring. He offered me a bite, and I declined, not really sure if he meant for me to take a bite of his food or he to take a bite out of me!

"So," I said, ever the intrepid reporter, diving right into the interview. (With sharks, you need to get straight to the point.) "You like herring?"

"I am a fan of many of the, shall we say, speedier fish," he said, teeth glinting off the midday sun streaming through the windows. "I generally like tunas, Bluefish, lancet fishes, cod, yellowtails, sea basses, porgies, and the kind. Personally, if I'm out for a big meal, I'll catch me a Swordfish or possibly another shark like a Blue, a whaler shark or even a hammerhead."

"Really?" I asked, surprised not only at the diversity of this shark's diet but the size of some of the fish he could eat.

"Sure," he said, grinning even more. "Most of these are fast fish. What I like to do is chase them down and then when I get close enough I grab them in my teeth and then it's down the hatch, the whole thing in one bite. Or no bites, depending on how I feel."

"What's you're favorite food when you're in town?" I asked.

He thought for a moment, "Bluefish when I'm inshore, usually. I like fish that school, you know. Herring is a favorite of mine. But I'm Pelagic, so I only eat for nutritional value. I'm not like those blasé sharks that'll take a bite out of a license plate or an old boot. I've been know to dine on Sea Turtle or even Squid from time to time."

"Well, you certainly are a shark of good taste," I said, taking full advantage of the opportunity to get on his good side. "After all, you do vacation in the Hamptons."

"True," he said. "I do have to keep this body trim for my fans. I've been at this weight for a year now, 1,100 pounds."

"Very nice," I said.

He was full of confidence, leaning back in his chair, fins crossed behind his head. For the first time I noticed how large his eyes were and how they reflected the metallic blue of his body. His underbody was a shade of white, separated by a thin silvery line. But what impressed me the most was how sleek and aerodynamic (or should I say, hydrodynamic) his body looked. He was like "Greased Lighting" with a dorsal fin.

"But I don't only stay in the Hamptons," Quint told me after ordering a pitcher of chum and Blue fish heads. This unloosened his tongue so to speak and he shared some of his other favorite places to vacation with me.

"Oh, where else do you go?" I asked.

"Like I said before," Quint opened his mouth in his broadest smile yet. "I get around. I'm Pelagic."

"You said that. What does that mean?"

"I like the open ocean, you know," he said. "Out there in the big blue, where a Mako can really test himself. I like to stay near the surface when it's nice but I'll go as deep as 500 feet if I want. For the most part, I like my waters cool and deep. But I have relatives in the Pacific, the Gulf, the Caribbean, all over. Some like it tropical and some temperate."

"Ever been to the Cape?" I asked.

He sniffed the air, which made me nervous. "Kid, I've been from the Cape to Argentina and back again. I follow the warm currents in the summer and glide right on up. I got a cousin in Chile and a buddy of mine, he's over in Cali right now, lucky S.O.B. We Mako, we're a wide ranging species."

"What do they call you guys?" I asked. "Shortfin Mako Sha..."

"I prefer Isurus oxyrinchus, or just Mako," he interrupted me. Quint leaned over the table. "I don't like the term, 'shortfin.' And don't you forget it."

Not likely. His breath smelled like sardines. I didn't mention it again. Nervously I looked down at my notes. He must have noticed because suddenly he broke out into laughter.

"Don't worry," he said, slapping the table with his fin. "I almost never bite humans. Almost."

"That's good to know," I said. "So you're in the Lamnidae family like the Great White Shark."

"Great Whites are a bunch of punks," he said, spitting chum as he spoke. "Ever since that movie by that Steven Spielberg fellow, they all swim around like their fins don't stink. We all have notochords of cartilage, you know. Not just the big bad Great White."

"So that's apropos of nothing," I said.

"That's right," he said. "But, uh, can you leave that part out of the interview?"

"Says here that you are Ovoviviparous," I continued. "What does that mean?"

"Means that I had to eat my little brother to survive," he growled. "Leads to something my therapist called intrauterine cannibalism. She says it's natural. So I don't want to talk about it."

"That's fine," I said, not wanting to get into murky waters with a Mako. "So really I have only one last question. It's what makes you so famous. You starred in a book. Can you tell me about it?"

"Ever heard of Ernest Hemingway?" he asked.

"Sure."

Smiling and reflective he leaned back and said, "Well, he was a big game hunter and fisherman. He was pretty impressed with my great-uncle on my mother's side. His name was Tony. He was a big man somewhere down in the islands. Had his own crew and everything. Anyway, Hemingway was so impressed with my uncle that he gave him a part in his book, 'Old Man and the Sea'."

"Wow," I said, truly impressed. "I never knew that."

"Zane Gray also wrote about Makos in the 1930's. Kind of an unfortunate thing because it made us pretty popular with the fishing types, you know?"

The waiter came over, just as Quint finished his chum. I was famished so I ordered the only thing that I could think of at the moment.

Apparently, shark is much more versatile than many cooks think. Generally, it's made like a steak. You can grill, broil, or fry it. It's also delicious marinated in an Italian type of dressing for about 15 minutes.

In the end, Quint turned out to be quite tender!

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Lon S. Cohen has been a short order cook, a Generation X slacker (aka artist), a fence installer, a marketing designer and once he was the only Jewish kid working at a Christmas Tree lot. There is no order to the aforesaid list. He currently works fulltime but only to pay the bills for a McMansion, beautiful wife and three lovely children. What he really wants to do is write, podcast, blog and drink a really good IPA. Again, not in any order of importance. Visit him at www.lonscohen.com and contact him by email at lon@lonscohen.com.