One day
in 1977 an awesome incident, at first terrifying, and then delightful
beyond words, occurred! A gray whale came over to one of our
whale-watching Zodiacs, touched our small boat gently, and allowed
itself to be petted by us all. It even reached out with its rostrum
("nose") to touch our outstretched hands. Fran began to
sing Amazing Grace. The whale stayed for two hours. Everyone
sang. Her name is Grace, of course. She was a teenage female, and
blew bubbles beneath our small gray Zodiac inflatable, an activity long
observed between mother and calf, and considered to be playful.
Grace
left. And returned often over many years. And others came. A
few at first, then more joined in as the years passed. Mothers
brought baby whales to share this experience. Now, increasing numbers of
wild gray whales are "friendly," and human visitors
hope for an opportunity to celebrate this experience themselves.
To say
that a friendly whale encounter is enjoyable or meaningful is to
fail to find words. But words really do fail here. Eloquent people
have resorted to silent smiles and wide, wide eyes that communicate more
than the "Ohhh!" or "Wow!" so
often heard when a whale touches one's hand. I have seen distracted
photographers throw their film-exhausted cameras onto hard, wet
skiff bottoms in order to devote both hands and mind to the delightful
passion of responding to the whale's presence. With time for
reflection, people have compared the emotional impact of this first
encounter with a friendly whale with that of making love. I can relate the experience to witnessing a long total solar eclipse for the
first time.
The whales obviously
enjoy this, too. I have been sternly accused of anthropomorphizing
more than once. However, such are the thoughts of stuffy folks who fail
to distinguish academic inquiry from the equally valid magic of nature.
I continue to be convinced that some of these gray whales are people
watching. Raymond M. Gilmore was for many years the San Diego Natural
History Museum's respected marine biologist. Ray knew the gray whales
better than anyone. When this "friendly" phenomenon began, Dr.
Gilmore stated his belief that this was the whales' response to whale
watching as it was being done; he believed the whales were telling
us that our presence was ok with them. Me, too!
When Charles M. Scammon,
the American whaler, sailed down from San Francisco in the 1850's and
60's to kill the whales for their oil, the animals' response was very
different, though equally reasonable. Gray whales soon earned the
name "Devil Fish" from the whalers, probably because they sent
many a whaler to Hell with a flick of their one-ton tail. The grays
would viciously attack the whaling skiffs and defend their young with
their lives. This was a violent response to humans who were sharing
their waters with deadly intentions, rather than in the mood of peaceful
inquiry that characterizes whale watchers of today.
Could the whales'
response be indicative of thought processes? Of intelligence? Or
maybe even a sense of humor?
Piet Van de Mark
In those "Good ol' Days" of the
'70's, we operated our own whale camp--Mas Cafe--with those wonderful Zodiac inflatable
boats that Jacques Cousteau made famous. Being gray and somewhat flexible, some
of our guests suggested that perhaps the gray whales just naturally loved them?
A pleasant thought; however, today we find friendly gray whales are very much
attracted to white fiberglass boats. The truth, we believe, is that they are
truly attracted to the friendly people inside the boats.