The first thing to make clear is that we humans are an infinitely greater threat to the great barracuda than it could ever be to us. Quite apart from our direct impact on the species, pollution and habitat destruction are threats to the great barracuda in certain areas, just as they are to other forms of aquatic life, including the fishes upon which barracuda prey. In turn, ciguatera poisoning is the most likely way that a barracuda would ever harm a human, and that is only possible after the human has killed the fish, rather than the other way around. Indeed, it appears that incidence of ciguatera may even be exacerbated by some of the negative effects of human activity on reef environments.

de Sylva (1963) and Gudger (1918) provide a synopsis of reported attacks on humans by the great barracuda, one conclusion of which is that written reports from the pre-WW2 era, going back as far as 1667, are unreliable at best. Some of these are described generally and more detailed information is provided on confirmed and suspected encounters with great barracuda in which the human came away the loser. Most of these reports derive from the waters of the United States.

The French natural historian, Charles de Rochefort, reported (in 1667) that great barracuda of the Antilles (Caribbean) craved human flesh and were equipped with a poisonous bite. Things didn't get a lot better in terms of the PR barracuda received until recently, with the rise of television documentaries and a growing interest among the general public in sharks and other predators.

de Sylva, in his 1963 paper, lists 29 attacks of which 19 are documented and attributed to barracuda, two were probably barracuda attacks, and the remaining eight were possibly by barracuda but may have been from other species.

Attacks described by de Sylva and Gudger date back to an 1873 attack in Mauritius — although most attacks involved laceration with no mortal risk, a few resulted in significant loss of tissue (as in a 1902 attack in which the victim's calf muscles were torn off and a 1947 attack off Ghana in which the victim lost his hands), and a few in death. The earliest recorded death attributed to great barracuda occurred in the Red Sea, in 1884. Two fatal attacks in Florida and South America occurred early this century in which the victims bled to death, though in both cases the fish may not have been a barracuda. A death in 1947 off St Augustine, Florida, and 1952 and 1958 deaths off Key West were probably the result of barracuda attack. A fatality on July 16, 1957 at Atlantic Beach, North Carolina was blamed on barracuda but may have been the result of a shark attack.

On July 14, 1960, a freediver was attacked twice off Pompano Beach, Florida, by a great barracuda. The barracuda rushed him four times and bit twice, resulting in wounds to his knee and wrist that required 31 stitches. Until recently, following a June, 1997 attack on a woman cleaning the bottom of a boat (in murky water), this was perhaps the only widely-documented case of an unprovoked attack on a diver/snorkeler (spearfishers would presumably be excluded from the formula, especially if they spear a barracuda or refuse to share their catch with one), though I have heard of barracuda charging shiny mask faceplates and first-stage SCUBA valves on occasion. Patterns in alleged and verified barracuda attacks tend to mirror those of shark attacks, and a few common guidelines further reduce the chance of the worst happening.

In July, 1993, I started my research on great barracuda by spending hours each day snorkeling in the warm, shallow waters of Florida Bay off Key Largo, looking at juveniles. At the same time, further south along the Keys, a woman made headlines across the nation when she was bitten by a larger specimen. Two more attacks occurred within weeks, and the 'flying barracuda' flap was on. Overnight, barracuda became celebrities of a sort. The usual bunch of dubious 'experts' were found who made claims such as that barracuda do not jump when hooked (they often do) and the media had a field day. Aerial barracuda had been a problem before — a fisherman was buzzed by one in 1966 (it jumped clear over his boat) and in May, 1959, a barracuda jumped and bit an 8-cm gash (a 'nip' that, fortumately, only required 6 stitches) in a fisherman's neck. One of the interesting aspects of the attack on Nadine Chloer, the first victim of the flying barracuda of '93, was that the reported length of the barracuda and the number of stitches required by the wounds that it inflicted to her upper leg fluctuated wildly on the pages of U.S. newspapers over time. In fact, by the time the barracuda reached Ripley's Believe it or Not it had grown from the 5' that it was initially reported as being to a mammoth 8' in length.

Although eminently capable of inflicting quite serious, and potentially lethal wounds (in the case just mentioned, the wounds were close to the femoral artery at its most exposed point), anyone who spends much time in the water with these fish will tell you that they are generally rather placid unless provoked. Even then, the diver has a remarkable amount of leeway in how far a barracuda can be 'pushed' — the equation only changes significantly when spearfishing activity is present. Considering the many thousands of people who flock to the barracuda's habitats for snorkeling, SCUBA diving and other aquatic pursuits, the virtual absence of hospitalizations attributable to barracuda attack speaks volumes about the risk of being attacked.