Mr Shark

Something that cropped up in conversation a while back was the supposed biological over-performance of the Great White Shark. I'm reliably informed that one of these buggers can smell (in the aquatic sense of the word) a single drop of blood in the sea from over half a mile away. Now, two-thirds of their brain is solely dedicated to this function, so you'd be forgiven for assuming that they're quite adept, but I can't help to think that us humans are, relatively speaking, a bit better than that. When I'm swimming here in the open, dry, and still air of Tucson I can identify when a nearby builder has sparked up a cigarette from a distance of about 100 yards. Granted, I couldn't tell you from what direction it was coming from, but I can sure as hell bet my lungs it's a cigarette alright. If you think for a moment; the scarcity of those particles, in comparison to the vastness of the air, is huge, making my little talent pretty impressive. Seeing as the smoke the builder breathes out will be hot, along with the slow smouldering coming from the tip of the cigarette itself, the gasses will have a tendency to rise. And so, the minute number of particles that eventually drift towards me, on a positively horizontal scale, are few and far between. Nevertheless, my sensory neurons pick it up, even though I'm in no way evolved to smell burning tobacco. It's not as integral to my survival as, let's say, eating. I've also been told that the best way to fend off an unruly shark is to punch it's snout. Ha! Their precious little nose is clearly something they value. My brain doesn't even concern itself that much with smell - certainly not vouching two-thirds of its capacity. Well, Mr Shark, let's be having you.