Is any creature more fascinating than the shark? Many variations of this primeval predator—its basic form unchanged for millions of years—swim with silent, hypnotic smoothness in the Mandalay Bay Casino’s Shark Reef Aquarium. Those eyes (dull, but with just a glint of a searching and hungry intelligence) will send a shiver down your spine as you gaze at the Galapagos shark, the nurse shark, the zebra shark (which has spots as an adult, but as a pup had zebra-like stripes), the gray and blacktip reef sharks, and the sandtiger shark (which has so many teeth it can’t close its own mouth). The chipper voice of the audio-guide will inform you that sharks have an extra sense that allows them to detect the beating of your heart, even if you’re buried in the sand. Can they sense it through the thick glass of the exhibit? As they glide in dreamy circles, are they dreaming of the wonderful meal they might have, if only this invisible wall weren’t in the way?
Sharks alone do not an aquarium make, and Shark Reef has a number of other intriguing animals. In fact, the first creatures you see aren’t even from the sea: A golden crocodile, with its beautiful tan and black skin, and a Komodo Dragon, the largest lizard on Earth. Both project an imperial indifference to the swarms of people passing before them. The Komodo Dragon’s eyelids slowly close and open, as if even blinking was too much effort. At the same time, the diligently clipped claws on his elegantly folded feet remind the viewer that this is an aggressive hunter, whose saliva contains seven deadly toxins.
From there, walk down the path, passing an array of gorgeously colored African Chichlids, as well as the massive Black Pacu. The next predator on display—for this exhibit is famously predator-based—is the seemingly innocuous piranha, which looks lumpy and harmless, until you get a look at its jagged teeth. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, you can see them being fed, if you’d like to see a little action. (Sadly, the brochure to the exhibit claims that tales of piranhas reducing animals to skeletons are exaggerated.)
And there’s much more: An open, shallow tank in which you can touch a ray—only one finger, please!—as it sweeps along. Its skin is surprisingly soft, and paper towels and sanitizers are available for the squeamish. One tank swarms with jellyfish, their puffy tentacles trailing behind them like the exhaust of a jet, only in graceful slow motion. The ragged lionfish wriggles its scruffy, venomous fins. A starfish climbs on the glass itself, giving you a close-up look at the dozens and dozens of tiny puckers slowly undulating beneath its spiny arms. A bashful octopus lingers in the crevices of the rocks, but every now and then climbs out to examine its terrain with writhing tentacles. The aquarium rewards patience; watch for a while and you’ll glimpse odd bits of interaction (a parrotfish nibbling at the tip of a shark’s tail) and a creature that, in one pose, seems bland will suddenly reveal uncanny beauty when seen from another angle. Take a break from the flashing lights and chiming bells of the casino floor to enjoy the cool blue serenity of the Shark Reef Aquarium.
—August Evans
