Whales and More
By Kathy Fletcher, Executive Director of People for Puget Sound, originally published in her new weblog.
I spent June 18 and 19 on San Juan Island, where we held the 7th annual OrcaSing at Lime Kiln Point State Park. If you're not familiar with OrcaSing, I'm inviting you now to mark your calendars for next year -- it's an event not to be missed. Every year, on the Saturday evening closest to the Summer Solstice, the City Cantabile Choir sings to the orcas as the sun sets over Haro Strait. Fred West, the choir director, dreamed this up when he was thinking about whales and other sea animals knowing us humans mostly by some of the least beautiful sounds that we make -- boat engines, sonar blasts, seismic exploration explosions. Why not share some of our most beautiful sounds?
Over time, OrcaSing has become a time to build awareness and rally support for the whales and what they need us to do for them. Their population has dwindled so much that they are at grave risk of extinction. We need to restore the salmon runs that nourish them, to get rid of the toxic chemicals that make them sick, and to make sure that they never experience a catastrophic oil spill.
We don't know whether the whales think much about OrcaSing one way or the other. However, without fail, for five years they swam in for the event, thrilling both the choir and the audience. They even seemed to show an affinity for the song "Amazing Grace." But last year and this, they chose to be somewhere else during the concert. No problem -- there's a lot to be said for spending a warm summer evening listening to music in a beautiful place. But even more, I think this is actually a reassuring reminder that "our" whales are free and they are wild. Their schedule and their whereabouts are theirs to decide.
Such reminders apparently are needed from time to time. Indeed, during the afternoon before the concert, some of us from People For Puget Sound were hanging out, staffing our educational display and collecting signatures on a petition to urge the state to phase out toxic chemicals. A visitor arrived, breathless, wanting to know if the whales were there. She had heard that they were supposed to come by at 1, 3 and 5 pm.
On schedule or not, over the course of the weekend, I did see all three pods--J, K, and L--of the Southern Resident orca whale community. One whale, L-25, born in the 1920s, came in so close to the rock I was standing on that I could almost touch her. She rolled over among the kelp fronds, her white belly gleaming, and glided by without surfacing. I wish I could ask her what she's seen during her lifetime in the Sound.
How did I know it was L-25? Bob Otis, a whale researcher, was at his usual post on the rocks near the Lime Kiln Point lighthouse, observing and taking notes on both the whales and the boats, sharing his knowledge with me and the other whale watchers.
The weekend was also a reminder to keep my eyes open. Seeing the whales was fantastic, but was it any less wonderful to see literally dozens of Dall's porpoises? What about the marine-foraging river otter that popped up with a flounder in its mouth, looking for a safe spot to enjoy its dinner? Or the eagles, the seals, the deer, the kingfisher?
We are so lucky to live here. Let's make sure our grandkids -- and theirs -- can say the same thing.
