A profound sense of astonishment gripped onlookers as an extraordinary sight emerged from the depths of the sea along the Romanian coast. The tranquil waters revealed a wounded dolphin, its plight capturing the attention of unsuspecting tourists.
Efforts were made to rescue the distressed marine mammal, but regrettably, its fate was sealed. Experts identified the creature as a member of the Delphinus Delphis species, a species known to inhabit the Black Sea.
Upon closer examination, the dolphin displayed multiple wounds on its body, likely inflicted by the ensnaring nets of fishermen. The Black Sea is home to three distinct species of marine mammals: the Common dolphin (Delphinus delphis ponticus), the Bottlenose dolphin (Tursiops truncatus ponticus), and the Harbor porpoise (Phocoena phocoena relicta).
Diverging in morpho-anatomical features and primary food sources, these species exhibit unique characteristics. The Bottlenose dolphin and Harbor porpoise primarily feed on fish and benthic organisms, while the Common dolphin’s diet encompasses fish and other organisms found within the water column.
Each species displays a preference for specific habitats, with the first two favoring coastal areas and the Common dolphin being commonly encountered in offshore zones. The Common dolphin is characterized by a bluish-gray to brown color on its dorsal side, featuring a distinct V-shaped lateral boundary that is remarkably light. A pigmented band, varying in darkness, connects the lower jaw to the insertion of the pectoral fins. The dorsal, pectoral, and caudal fins range from black to gray-brown.
Newborns measure around 0.80-0.95 m, with adults in the Black Sea not exceeding 2 m (males – 177 cm, females – 159 cm). Highly sensitive to chemical and acoustic pollution, they exhibit social behaviors, forming groups of 10-15 individuals, as well as pairs or isolated individuals. With rapid swimming capabilities, reaching speeds of approximately 50 km/h, they engage in short-duration dives and frequent surface breathing at intervals of 1/3 seconds. Their habitat extends to depths of up to 70 meters.
Sexual maturity is reached at the age of 2 years, and the gestation period is 10 months, with weaning occurring at 4 months. Displaying highly developed maternal instincts, their lifespan is estimated to be 25-30 years. Their primary diet comprises small pelagic fish such as sprat, anchovy, and gobies, along with crustaceans.
Additionally, their stomachs often contain other species like horse mackerel, cod, bluefish, red mullet, sea bass, shrimp, and mollusks. The daily food intake for these remarkable creatures is approximately 10 kg.
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
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