Beached Dolphins

I can't stop thinking about this pod of dolphins found washed up on a beach near Australia two days ago. How does that happen? A lone dolphin I can comprehend, but an entire pod? Were they members of some strange dolphin death cult? Victims of an eratic sonar short? I imagine a beached dolphin dies a death much like a human drowning. Every breath must burn as lungs filling with water, exploding. I grew up on the Puget Sound. The water, according to either truth or urban legend, causes hypothermia after 15 minutes of exposure. I grew up with a strange prediliction for late night swims. I'd swim out 'till the bonfires on the beach resembled brief lit candlewicks. I'd wait until I heard that little voice telling me I should turn back soon, and then I'd go out just a little bit further. I'd go until my limbs turned numb, until I truly didn't know if I could swim anymore. Every swim abandoning a bit of choice, of control, of fear. Perhaps two days ago, one dolphin began his duel with the beach. He swam closer, and closer, daring and taunting. Only, instead of letting him drift too far, worried, the entire pod followed. Most likely not. But I'm still wondering. . .