The Call of the Deep

The waters off the coast of Syracuse, Sicily, were calm that day in 2009 — a perfect mirror reflecting the sky above. Beneath the surface, the silence of the deep waited, endless and blue. Enzo Maiorca, the legendary Italian freediver, was descending alongside his daughter Rossana. For Enzo, the sea was more than just water — it was home, temple, and teacher.

But that day, the sea had something new to teach.

As Enzo swam downward, preparing his breath and mind for the ocean’s embrace, he felt a soft pressure on his back — a touch, deliberate and urgent. Turning in the water, he found himself face to face with a dolphin. But unlike the playful encounters he was used to, this dolphin’s body language was different. It hovered, then dipped, then returned. Its eyes were fixed on his. It was asking for something.

It was asking for help.

Enzo didn’t hesitate. With decades in the sea, he had long since learned to listen when the ocean speaks — and this dolphin was speaking loud and clear.

The dolphin turned and dove again, deeper this time. Enzo followed.

At around 15 meters down, suspended in the blue, they saw her — a second dolphin, motionless, trapped in a tangle of forgotten fishing net. Her sleek body twisted with panic, her fins bound by plastic and nylon. Without freedom, she could not surface. Without air, she would die.

Enzo signaled to Rossana above, and within moments she dropped a knife into the water. With practiced precision, Enzo moved in, slicing through the net, working carefully not to cut the dolphin. Her dark eyes followed him, wide with a strange mix of fear and hope — until finally, the last piece of the net drifted away like a shadow lifted.

And then… a sound.

Later, Enzo would struggle to describe it — but he called it a “cry” — high-pitched, wavering, and almost human in its depth of emotion. A sound that didn’t belong to just an animal, but to something more: a being aware of the life it had almost lost, and the life it was about to bring.

Because as the freed dolphin broke the surface, something incredible happened. She arched her body upward — and gave birth, right there in the open sea.

The water stirred. The calf emerged, small and perfect, drawing its first breath as sunlight danced on the waves. The male dolphin, the one who had led Enzo down, circled them protectively — then turned and swam toward Enzo.

And in a moment as brief as a breath but as eternal as the ocean itself, the dolphin swam close… and pressed its snout gently against Enzo’s cheek. A gesture so delicate, so intimate — like a kiss. A thank you.

Then, the dolphins were gone — mother, father, and newborn calf disappearing into the blue.

Enzo surfaced, quiet. Changed.

Later, he would say:
“Until man learns to respect and speak to the natural world, he can never truly understand his place on this Earth.”

That day, the sea had spoken. And Enzo Maiorca had listened.