Every single time I see wild whales up close, I find it hard to fathom the magnitude of what I am experiencing. The size, the grace, the beauty of these creatures is mind boggling. And that they allow humans so close is truly a gift from them to us. Though most whales are declining in numbers, the recovery of the gray whale is an astounding comeback story.
Gray whales looked much as they do now for thirty million years or so—and during that time they’ve seen all kinds of threats. More than a million years ago, they shared the oceans with one of the biggest flesh-eating predators ever to live, the megalodon, a gigantic ancient cousin of the great white shark that was the size of a gray whale and fed primarily on, well, whales. As happens in nature, however, the two species lived in balance. The way the system works is that there are always more prey animals than predators. That’s until recently, of course, until humans came along and started upsetting the balance of nature on which our lives are utterly dependent.
Although native people have hunted whales for many centuries, commercial whaling began on a large scale in the Atlantic Ocean in the 1600s. By the end of the seventeenth century, though, the Atlantic population of the gray whale had already been driven to extinction. The bigger Pacific population’s breeding grounds were not discovered until 1855. After that secret was out of the bag, the California gray whale was hunted to near extinction by the end of the nineteenth century. Once whale numbers fell so low, hunting was abandoned in the most of the areas where the gray whale migrated, and their population gradually recovered in the first half of the twentieth century.
But modern technology later brought massive factory ships that could stay at sea for months, harvesting and processing the whale meat all in one great predatory maw. And again, the population declined precipitously. Then the International Whaling Commission was established; protection was granted the gray whale in 1937, though it only came into full effect in 1946. This protection was most important on their breeding and calving grounds in northern Mexico because that is where they are most concentrated and easily accessible. Hence the burgeoning ecotourism industry bringing eager and excited whale-watchers to experience their gentle grandeur each winter and spring.
Dr. Roger Payne is one of the world’s leading authorities on whales. Most famous for his seminal research into whale vocalizations, Roger told me that gray whale numbers are increasing again on the eastern side of the Pacific Ocean. On the western side, they are teetering on the brink of extinction. And in the North Atlantic, where they used to exist, they are extinct. However, now that the Northwest Passage is expected to open in the summers, Roger said that “it is only a matter of time until gray whales have found their way back over into the Atlantic.” I asked him why the eastern Pacific gray whales are doing better, and he said it’s because the countries involved—Canada, the United States, and Mexico—all pay close attention to the eastern Pacific gray whale stock and protect it vigorously.
The shallow and calm waters of the lagoons in Baja’s Sea of Cortés are an ideal place for the whales to calve. The moms are pregnant for about eleven months and have a calf every other year, since the babies stick with their moms to learn everything from what and where to eat, to the complexities of migration. In the shallows and safe from predators, such as orcas, the babies are born tail-first and are about twelve feet long at birth. Just a few weeks later, the annual migration cycle begins again and the mothers and young embark on a trip that will take them all the way to Alaska. At an average speed of six miles per hour, it is the slowest migration on earth, taking three months each way. Part of what takes them so long is that their six mph pace happens only when they are swimming. Much of the time they rest. When the tide currents run against them, some of them wait until the current changes to save energy.
And of course, not all the whales migrate en masse. Rather, they spread out over a period of months, so that as the earliest northbound whales are swimming toward their feeding grounds in late winter, they encounter southbound gray whales on their way to give birth in the breeding lagoons.
Today under strict protection from commercial whaling, the eastern gray whale’s population is once again healthy. Nobody is certain exactly how many gray whales exist, but estimates are that the population in the eastern Pacific Ocean is more than twenty-six thousand, and the region is believed to be nearing its carrying capacity. Although often referred to as the California gray whale, this eastern population lives and feeds as far north as Alaska and Siberia in its summer feeding grounds.
Roger Payne pointed out that this success story is one of the best case studies in conservation history. “Unfortunately, the western gray whale population is declining because of the continued hunting by Russian whalers who claim that theirs is an aboriginal subsistence hunt. But do not imagine that they are paddling kayaks or canoes. They use the very same catcher boats used by commercial whalers. And even worse, the meat is used to feed animals on Kamchatka fur farms that raise sables and mink for the fashion industry.”
Gray whales have made such a comeback that Japan led a successful effort to get them de-listed as an endangered species. But Roger told me that he thinks de-listing the gray whale “is a grave error.” He believes that the best way to assure an expansion into the North Atlantic and western Pacific is to have an abundance of eastern gray whales—not just a restored amount. If we protect them enough so that the population is abundant, Roger said, the gray whales “will be forced by competition for food to seek out ‘new’ feeding areas, which of course are actually the wider range in which they once thrived.”
Each winter the legendary Linblad ecotourist ships follow the migration of the whales from Alaska, where they spend the summer, down to Baja California and the Sea of Cortés. There, in its placid waters, the sense of natural harmony is remarkable. Thanks need to go to the Mexican people and the Mexican government, who have not yet spoiled the region with sprawl and overdevelopment. This is important, because it would not be the same experience for the people or the whales if the area looked like Tijuana/San Diego.
And not everything is idyllic in Baja. Roger Payne reported, “One of the two most endangered species of whales in the world is a species of harbor porpoise that occurs in the northern Gulf of California—the Sea of Cortés. It is being caught in nets set for fish, and although there are laws protecting these porpoises, there is little or no enforcement.”
Ecotourism, when executed with the protection of nature in mind, can be a great boon to wildlife. A very good example is many of the whale-watching trips to the Sea of Cortés in winter and early spring. Thankfully, the Mexicans take their gray whales to heart, and whale-watching is tightly controlled in the region. Even with the world-class naturalists on the Lindblad boats, each Zodiac must be accompanied by a registered Mexican naturalist to ensure that nobody hassles the whales. Now, it happens that whales are very curious creatures—not surprising given that they are one of the three families of animals with the largest brains. The others are elephants and great apes.
But it is impossible to make a whale do what you want it to do. In fact, the baleen whales, like the gray, scoop up small invertebrates living in the mud of the bottom or just above its surface, so it isn’t really practical to try to tempt them with food. Still, they very often allow people close enough to look right into their eyes and sometimes even to touch them.
A few years ago, a famous female gray whale died—one who for decades had been birthing and rearing her young in the Sea of Cortés and allowing people to see her offspring up close. She was much beloved, and upon her death biologists were amazed to discover the iron head of a whale harpoon lodged in her back. Dating it at the Museum of Anthropology at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, scientists verified it was 125 years old. This means not only that at least some whales live much longer than any other mammals, but also that they may have the capacity for understanding, perhaps even forgiveness.
For this mother whale who was once hunted, nearly killed, and almost certainly had family members killed in her presence to be willing share her young so intimately with people is indeed a tale of hope. Somehow she can distinguish between the killers and the curious. It could be her big brain and capacity to solve problems. It could be that while humans have a proclivity to fight, whales innately swim toward understanding and forgiveness. It could be that we are learning. And just as some whales live long, some people care deeply.
As for the future of whales, Roger is cautiously optimistic, pointing out, “The reason whaling persists is that a dead whale floating next to your boat is worth a fortune, so a great deal of whale hunting goes unreported. One of the worst examples concerns the right whale, a species that has been protected since 1937. However, a hunt by the Soviets in 1960 and 1961 killed over three thousand right whales. In their official report to the International Whaling Commission, they claimed only to have killed one and that it was merely an accident.”
When I asked him about the future for whales, Roger said, “The most important thing to remember is that whales are not yet saved. They are nowhere near saved. They are in fact threatened by more things than they were before. Historically speaking, the only significant threat to whales was harpoons. Today fishing nets and toxins in the sea are increasing threats to all sea life and most particularly whales, since the toxins concentrate most (as they move up the food chain) in the top predators, and whales are top predators. Humans are realizing that we, along with whales, are adversely affected by these synthetic poisons, and more and more people are calling for action. But there is a long way left to go.”
By any measure, not just their burgeoning numbers, watching the return of the California gray whales to their winter breeding and calving waters in the Sea of Cortés is one of the most heartening spectacles on earth. Part of what feels so astonishing is that their intelligence is palpable. The fact that these thirty-five-foot-long creatures weighing better than thirty tons allow you to get near them and their babies in an inflatable raft—which they could capsize with a single flick of the tail—gives hope that such humbling experiences may help us achieve a better understanding of our role in the world.
