On an April morning, we approach the famous Pig Beach.

Big Major Cay. Our dinghy glides through water that, in the Exumas, is as clear as glass and turquoise for days. We pass 50 catamarans anchored here. A flutefish, a giant silvery needle, overtakes us towards the beach, where the first of the famous swimming pigs are already gathering. Pink dots against a tropical backdrop. By far the largest animal breaks away from the group, enters the sea, and paddles toward our dinghy. "It's huge," says Stella. Like a wild boar. This must be it, the bucket list moment. A highlight of our tour.

What makes the Robinson Crusoe pigs so charming is that they clearly don't belong to this beautiful beach in the Bahamas. Myths surround their origins. One theory suggests that they survived a shipping accident and made it to the island. It's more likely that locals have bred them as a free-roaming meat reserve in the 1990s. Until boaties and travel bloggers discovered the animals, tour operators jumped on and the hype made them too valuable to slaughter.

Until this day, residents of Staniel Cay provide the pigs with food and water, as they can't sustain themselves here. It's convenient that tourists also feed them. They spend easily 500 dollars on a day trip to see them or they are so lucky and anchor their ships nearby.

At 9 a.m. in the morning, we bring them carrots and okra for breakfast. Louisa and I jump into the water. Our welcoming committee changes course and swims toward us. The big pig knows the game. It opens its mouth wildly, as if demanding: Bring us your vegetables.

Its canine teeth can't compare to wild boar tusks, but they're huge. You don't want to get too close. Who would have thought that a visit to Pig Beach would be a test of courage? I throw our first carrot into its mouth—just miss—and fish it out of the water. On the second try, it works.

Louisa and I run into the shallows, toward the smaller ones. The big boar paddles behind us for a short while, but then turns away. He surely knows that the first tour boats will arrive soon. Supplies are provided.

The morning we visit Big Major Cay, we are alone with the pigs. Some are still are in their shelter, snoozing or sleeping. The piglets are just getting up. There is no trace of the rangers yet who care for the animals and collect the entrance fees (5-10 US dollars per person). A sign instructs guests not to ride the pigs, to feed them only in the sea, and not to give them alcohol. As if this wasn't self-evident.

The rules of conduct were installed in response to mysterious deaths among the animals. In February 2017, more than half a dozen of them died within a short period of time. There were rumors that visitors had given them beer and rum.

After an autopsy, Alfred Gray, the Bahamian Minister of Agriculture and Fisheries, officially announced a different cause of death: the deceased animals had eaten too much sand. Given the pushy pig we encountered, I can imagine people throwing their snacks into the sand - out of fear of being bitten. What I can’t comprehend is why so many pigs should suddenly die as a result of the lifestyle they have had for years, even decades.

On Pig Beach, you experience pigs in a different role. Not as farm stock to be slaughtered at 6 or 8 months old, but as bristled animals in paradise. #swimmingpigs have become an integral part of social media. The “friendly pigs” attract millions of visitors to the Bahamas. And on Instagram, it looks wonderfully effortless when vacationers interact with them. They are photogenic as hell and the piglets are the cutest.

The success has long since inspired imitators. In Nassau, convenient half-day tours attract cruise guests and short-term tourists to Da Pig Beach near Rose Island. Full-day tours depart not only to the Exumas, but also to Meeks Patch, Eleuthera, for the Pig & Snorkel Experience. A Caribbean alternative to Big Major Cay, Pig's Paradise, on Seaforth Beach, Antigua, opened in 2022.

The pigs bring in a lot of money for tour operators. Let's hope this fact ensures that those in charge take care of them and the rangers watch out how visitors treat these creatures. And that their – unusually long – lives aren't too stressful. The animals seemed quite relaxed to us, but we were also their first visitors.

Besides their famous pigs, the Exumas have much more to offer – they are a paradise for nature lovers and photographers alike.

Staniel Cay is the best base for visiting nurse sharks. At the yacht club, they doze on the bottom of the harbor Basin. Or they just lounge around, as these sharks don't need to constantly swim to breathe. They simply pump water over their gills.

At the anchorage, they love to dive under our dinghy. Whenever one of them appears, we gather on deck. Nurse sharks are enchanting. The barbels on their mouths make them look like a mixture between a shark, a catfish, and Nosferatu. Their chocolate-brown skin feels like sandpaper. Nine times out of ten, they'll evade you if you swim or dive towards them. If you harass them or even hold them, they might bite.

Nevertheless, nurse sharks are sharks for beginners, and sharing a snorkeling trip with them is a great experience.

Thunderball Grotto, made famous by James Bond and marked by a "No Fishing" sign, is just around the corner from Staniel Cay. At high tide, you have to dive in, passing by schools of colorful fish.

The airplane wreck at Norman's Cay is fantastic for snorkeling. At low tide, it's so shallow here that you can even stand on the wings. In the 1980s, when the island still played a role in the drug trade, the C-46 crashed – allegedly loaded with cocaine for the Escobar cartel. Since then, the wreck has been transformed into an artificial reef, teeming with damselfish.

Rock Iguanas are the only inhabitants of Bitter Guana Cay.

Bitter Guana Cay. The stars of this beautiful island are Bahamian rock iguanas. These animals have lived on the Exumas for millions of years – no comparison to humans (less than 2,000 years) or the pigs of Big Major Cay.

The iguanas don't have quite as much PR pulling power. Besides Asja, only two other ships are anchored off their island. When we land in the morning, we have the reptiles to ourselves: prehistoric-looking dragons with bronze crests and pink throats. Most are about as long as my arm.

As it is often the case on the Exumas, these animals are used to visitors and have adapted their behaviour. They crawl out of the bushes, run across the sand, and sit around us at a distance to inspect us - and our picnic.

We do give them a few pieces of banana, but it's best not to feed them. Less is more, in this case. The lizards feed themselves on the leaves and fruits that grow on their island. In their habitat—limestone cliffs, bushes, and beaches—they're not as out of place as swimming pigs. But they're certainly no less exciting. It is fun to watch how they interact with each other.

Swimming pigs, sharks and dragons

In the virtual classroom