Whale watching

The ocean waters off the west coast of North America are the migration route for nearly 24,000 gray whales. The main population winters in lagoons off of Baja in Mexico. In February or March each year, they begin a great migration journey north. They summer north of Alaska in the Bering and Chukchi Seas. They travel along the coast and can be seen from tour and fishing boats at several places along the way. There are also places where a few lucky people are able to observe them from the shore.

A small group splits off of the main group each year to pass through the Salish Sea to feed on ghost shrimp on their way north. These are locally known as “sounders.” A handful of them arrived early this year and were spotted off of Port Townsend in March. The feeding must be good for them this year, because they have lingered in the waters off of northwestern Washington.

Yesterday was our day. We were walking along the shore of Birch Bay, just minutes from our home, where we often walk. We were counting Great Blue Herons, who were feeding near the shore. We had gotten to 15 in the mile-long stretch when we paused to speak with other walkers, who pointed out the magnificent spouts of the gray whales in the bay. Apparently they have been hanging around our bay for a few days now, but yesterday was the first we were able to see them. They were too far out for a cell phone photograph, but we watched, entranced, for quite a while seeing regular spouts. Occasionally we would see the dark mammals as they came out of the water following their spouts. I was amazing and filled us with awe.

As newcomers and implants on the coast, we have lived most of our lives a thousand miles or more from the ocean. We have not yet adjusted to the ebb and flow of the tides, to the seasons of the birds and other animals. The sight of a harbor seal gives us pause. In 2013, we celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary by taking a whale watching cruise out of Anacortes, Washington. We were able to see several pods of Orcas and one Minke Whale on that cruise. It was an unforgettable experience. Yesterday, however, was our first time of observing the gray whales.

As we watched, I remembered watching the Custer State Park buffalo herd in South Dakota and imagining what it must have been like before the over hunting and decimation of the great buffalo herds that roamed the plains. It isn’t hard to understand why the buffalo - technically American Bison - Tatanka in Lakota - were sacred to the indigenous people of the plains. They and land were inseparable. They provided nearly everything the Lakota people needed. The harvesting of a buffalo was an event surrounded by ceremony.

Watching the whales stirred my imagination, thinking of years past when the Lhaq’temish spotted the whales from a high point along the shore and rushed to launch their boats to hunt the giant mammals. Their canoes, sometimes as long as 40 feet, carried skilled hunters who harpooned the whales The harpoons were attached to sealskin sacks that were filled with air and prevented the whales from diving deep. Multiple canoes took part in a successful hunt. The boats, sometimes described by observers as dugouts, were the products of centuries of refinement and design. Carved from a single log, the wood was hollowed out to a specific thickness then filled with water which was heated by putting red-hot stones from the fire into it. This allowed the sides of the canoe to be widened and precisely shaped. The outside of the boat was carved to make it seaworthy in storms as well as cut through the water quickly when used for hunting.

Looking at a Coast Salish hunting canoe, it is clear that the developers of American clipper ships in the 1840’s and 1850’s copied the shape of the bow and stern of these canoes to add speed to their three masted ships. The hollow lines of the canoes were reproduced in a larger scale as merchant shipping shifted from capacity to speed as a primary design element.

As is true with the buffalo, there are very few traditional hunts for whales these days. Treaties made in the mid 19th century insure the right to hunt and fish, but there are many reasons why the indigenous people of the Pacific Northwest are no longer to maintain the traditional hunting lifestyle. As the Lakota call themselves the people of the buffalo, the Lhaq’temish call themselves the people of the salmon. The salmon were not only the primary food of the Lhaq’temish, but also of the orcas in the ocean. Where the salmon were found, the orcas followed. The interconnectedness of the lives of the people and of the fish were celebrated in legend and ceremony. Like the buffalo of the plains, the salmon are simply not as plentiful as once was the case. Overfishing, dams, rising water temperatures, and pollution have decreased the numbers dramatically.

There are many changes that we need to make in order to get our lives back in tune with nature’s ways. But yesterday, shading our eyes from the sun, gazing out across the bay to watch for the spouts of the whales, we were given the gift of experiencing the awe of the created world. Despite all of the pressures of humans and our many environmental disasters, the whales are migrating. They are following the patterns that whales have followed for thousands of years or more. And on their trip, the feeding has been good this year, so a few have lingered in the shallow bays close to the shore here on the border between the United States and Canada. And a few of us have been lucky enough to be looking at the right place at the right time to b witnesses to this year’s migration.

I know I will never again walk along the shore without looking to the horizon just in case I am given the treat of seeing the spout of another whale.

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