The Tuna and The Swordfish
A tale from the sea, as old as the sea.
A young fisher set out to the ocean on a boat, hoping to catch a tuna. You see, because tuna makes for an excellent dinner: it’s healthy, it’s tasty, and — most important — consistent. You know what tuna tastes like. You know what tuna looks like. It’s reliable. It’s versatile. It keeps well. And, although expensive at market, it makes for a solid cornerstone of any nutritious diet.
Importantly: tuna is not a shark that could attack without warning, a jellyfish which aimlessly drifts, or a slithering eel that will come around to sting you. The fisher learned from an early age to spot these sea creatures, and to the best of her ability, avoid the waters where they would be found.
And so, day after day, she kept her baited line in the water, and some fish would inevitably bite. Some bottom feeders, some salmon, some sea-bass. But inevitably, she would conclude that they were not quite tuna, and she would toss them all back to sea.
One morning, out of the great abyss, a rare and magnificent swordfish bypassed her line and lept out of the water into her boat. “Surprise!” exclaimed the proud swordfish, “It’s nice to finally meet you! You’re gonna eat good tonight!” And it flopped around in the boat drawing attention to itself as one does.
The fisher had heard of swordfish before. It was adored for being an interesting and singular creature of the sea. Indeed, no other fish is quite like a swordfish — except perhaps a marlin, which was mostly caught and tossed back for sport due to its exquisite beauty and vigorous fight, but which you would never consider eating — decadent in taste, nutrient-dense, and yet still a deep-sea swimmer notoriously hard to harpoon, or reel in with conventional fishing wire.
The fisher examined her boat-mate. She was skeptical: How would it taste? Could it pierce me with its dagger? Where did this thing come from? Why is this swordfish so extra? Inevitably, her thoughts turned back to tuna. She dreamed of it. Even began to crave it. Tuna rolls. Tuna steaks. Tuna melts. She kept her line in the ocean while she continued to study her guest.
She was in the perfect spot to catch a tuna. The socially inauspicious tuna move together in giant schools and follow the same predictable paths — each tuna often indistinguishable form the last, but each tuna also marveled at for being generally smart and active, tasty and simple to prepare. You never need to worry about tuna. They’re dependable.
Swordfish, unlike tuna, are lone wanderers of the sea — swimming at uniquely profound depths and navigating open waters with precocious curiosity, speed and agility. But they’re erratic: They can show up unannounced anywhere, and no two swordfish taste alike.
So this particular swordfish continued to jump around in the boat, spilling the secrets of the sea to the fisher as she took the time to admire its gregarious personality, color and distinct features. There was something hypnotic about this fish. Something unique. It was whip-smart and made her laugh, all the while flopping around frantically in excitement and anticipation: “At long last, I will sustain someone.”
And the fisher did, in fact, think about keeping the swordfish and bringing it home. She’d read that it tasted delightful when prepared correctly. And as it continued to tell her tales from far corners of the seas she’d never seen, she became intrigued and enraptured — and briefly forgot about tuna or the fact that her line was still baited and below the surface.
Later that afternoon, charmed by her handsome party-crasher, the fisher noticed a tug against the boat — a bite on her line. She reeled in her catch without much fuss and discovered what she’d been searching for — a regal, delicious tuna in good health and just like she’d imagined. She was hungry now, and this tuna would be perfect to take home for dinner. She sighed and smiled. Her work here was done.
But she was faced with a decision: What to do with the swordfish already in the boat; doing back-flips and calling her name … singing her songs and leaving her breathless and exhausted? She looked longingly at the tuna, then walked over to the swordfish, scanning it over with wonder. She lovingly picked up the swordfish as the excitable creature stared back and smiled.
“You are an extraordinary wonder, strange swordfish,” the fisher said. “You’ve made me laugh. I hear you make an excellent meal. But you are not what I am looking for. I wish you well in your sojourns across the sea.” And she gently tossed him back into the ocean, where the swordfish jumped out of the water only to watch the fishing boat speed out of sight.
The swordfish, mournful but free again, wandered around uncharted depths — meandering from pole to pole, passing reefs and lagoons and ever more boats who, upon his unusual entrance, would all tell him the same: That they were taken by him, but he was not what they had in mind.
The fisher, satisfied and content with her catch, looked at the tuna with delight. She couldn’t wait to take him home. She’d fished all her life for a tuna like this. And he was worth the wait. The tuna was delicious. It sustained her and her family. She lived a long, happy, healthy life.
But she never stopped thinking about that swordfish. Some days, it is rumored, she would drive out to sea, sit in her boat with her line in the water, and hope that the swordfish would notice her. The sharks, the eels, the jellyfish, the salmon, the bottom feeders always did … but the swordfish never returned. The fish she once caught became the creature she now craved. That which she was not looking for became that which she was now longing for.
The fisher had tuna every night of her life. The swordfish traveled the world, avoiding the harpoons of unwanted hunters, and charming countless fishers in boats along every coast. Having never been anyone’s dinner, he lived a long, storied life other sea creatures would recount in their own stories for future generations. And yet, he still died alone — for although he could be many extraordinary things, a swordfish can never be tuna.
