The Dolphin Myth That Refuses to Die
Updated at 12:12 p.m. ET on November 13, 2020
I’m on a speedboat on the Rio Madeira, which translates to “wood river,” near the Brazilian city of Porto Velho in the upper Amazon River basin. Along with Miriam Pereira Mateus and Ileziane da Silva Pinto, two women in their 30s, I’m peering at the water, which is as opaque as milky coffee. Every once in a while, something pierces the surface—a large splash or a bright flash of color—and we point excitedly, hoping to confirm a sighting of a pink river dolphin, also called a boto. But each time, we’re disappointed. Our boat driver tells us that the dolphins are probably all around us; he sees them frequently. He points to the right, convinced he sees two huddled together, and steers us toward the spot. We see nothing.
Botos can grow to about nine feet long, with humps on their backs in place of dorsal fins. Their characteristic Millennial-pink hue, found mostly in males, is thought to be caused by the injuries and scarring they sustain in fights with each other. The rosier their skin, the more likely they are to sire calves, perhaps because potential mates are attracted to this evidence of aggression.
Scientists didn’t begin to systematically study the behavior or population dynamics of botos outside captivity until the early 1990s. But the ribeirinhos, the people who live on the banks of the Amazon and its tributaries, have had a long and complicated relationship with the species. While the botos have a reputation for leading fishers to areas rich with fish, they are also known for luring them to dangerous areas and deliberately confusing navigators and sinking their boats. According to one myth, the botos transform into handsome men by night, and come ashore dressed in white suits and white hats. It is said that the botos are so seductive that women wind up pregnant with their babies.
In the Brazilian Amazon and its surrounding communities, stories about animals are a major part of cultural life, and are often used to make sense of what happens in the river’s murky depths. In Porto Velho, images of
