KONO, Papua New Guinea — Chris Malgan sits in his outrigger canoe, singing and shaking a ring of coconut shells in the water next to the boat. The inky skies backdropping the reef portend a late-morning storm that will bring a deluge of rain and tumultuous seas, likely skunking any attempt to “call” sharks to his boat. So today, he’s merely doing a demonstration in the lagoon just offshore from the village of Kono in Papua New Guinea. But in the right conditions, the clacking coconuts will mimic a distressed fish or a harried shoal in a way that lights up a shark’s neural circuitry. And with time-honed skill — and perhaps a bit of luck — “Sharks will come from all directions,” Malgan says. When a shark rises to investigate the sounds, he shows how to slip a noose of woven reeds hanging from beneath a propeller-blade-shaped plank of buoyant wood around its neck. It’s meant to tire the shark at the surface so he can club and haul it into the boat while avoiding its prickly teeth. Malgan, 62, is Kono’s chief, which fits his grandfatherly vibe. He wears a blue-and-yellow baseball cap that says “God is good all the time” over a youthful though ever-so-slightly graying head of hair. He’s been a shark caller for more than 40 years, during which time he says he’s brought hundreds back to his community, where they were at the center of celebratory feasts. As with many a fisher, a few…This article was originally published on Mongabay
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