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SHARKS evoke more complex emotions in people than any other animal on this planet. We admire and abhor them. We find them appealing and repellent. We respect their right to live yet slaughter them by the millions. Most common of all, no matter how hard we resist it, we fear them.

For many of us, these positive and negative feelings about sharks are divided by a fine, wavering line. And, where that line gets drawn can be arbitrary, irrational and sometimes even embarrassing.

I got caught in this shark conundrum recently during a trip to Midway Atoll, a wildlife refuge and marine sanctuary featuring excellent diving and snorkeling. During several dives, I was thrilled to see several young Galapagos sharks. These sharks, extremely common throughout Hawaii's northwest chain, grow to 12 feet long but the individuals we saw were only 4 or 5 feet long.

Frequently, these small sharks hovered near the edge of our dive group. Once, one swam right up to a diver, checked her out, then backed off. Another time, two sharks followed us to the boat's boarding ladder. Calmly, I watched my partner hand up his dive fins while the curious sharks circled, their dorsal fins slicing the surface.

ALTHOUGH Galapagos sharks have been implicated in human attacks in parts of the world, they are not aggressive in the Hawaiian Islands. It was comforting to know that there has never been an attack by this (or any other) shark at Midway. Diving with these sharks was exciting, but not scary.

Two days later, my partner suggested we go snorkeling under the cargo pier. I balked. I never like snorkeling under piers. It's dark down there and the echoes are spooky. In addition, I was told (oh, joy) that a tiger shark had been spotted there the week before.

But my friend couldn't find another partner, and people aren't allowed to swim alone at Midway. Reluctantly, I donned my mask and snorkel and we swam out under the pier.

It was awful. All I could think about were those Galapagos sharks (in my mind, grown to their full 12 feet) and a big tiger shark hovering in the murky depths.

When my imagination gets this overworked, being in the ocean is no fun. I headed for the beach.

MINUTES later, in chest-deep water, I started feeling better. Then ... attack! A large object struck me hard on the rear. I shot out of the water with a scream, certain I was done for. Gasping, I whirled around, ready to fight the monster that was trying to kill me.

But no gray shadow darkened the clear waters. All I saw was a Laysan albatross bobbing on the surface several feet away. I was puzzled. Even in this colony of a million albatrosses, adults don't just sit in shallow water next to swimmers.

The seabird and I, both a bit dazed, stared at one another for a long moment. Then I looked down at my swimming suit -- a dark blue fabric decorated with light blue spots -- and realized what had happened. The passing albatross, thinking my rear end was a piece of food, plunged down on it, and scared us both out of our wits.

My partner swam over and eyed the goose-sized bird. "What happened?"

I told the story.

"See?" he said smugly. "You would have been better off under the pier."

When it comes to sharks, it's easy to focus on perceived risks and forget the real ones, such as decompression illness, drowning and -- yes -- even getting dive-bombed by a seabird. Not only does such misdirected focus spoil the fun, it can cause troubles you never dreamed of.