News Releases

Note: Mike and Suzanne sent this to us a few days ago...

6/29/2005

On Thursday we were back on the rocks in Nootka Sound, watching Luna. He seemed particularly playful. When we got there in the early morning he was on the western side of the area where he normally hangs out, and was foraging actively, moving busily back and forth in an area perhaps a half a kilometre long. At around 9:30 he seemed to get a burst of energy (a 30-lb salmon down the gullet?) and did a bunch of tail slaps, followed by three partial breaches, in which he looked a bit like one of those television ads for a financial institution, jumping about two-thirds of the way out of the water and each time falling in the same direction (south), with his roundish pec fins spread wide as if to imitate a humpback whale.

Later in the day Luna worked his way to the more eastern side of his familiar territory and was busy there for a while, then did a few more tail slaps. At one point he rolled over on his back and seemed to be trying to figure out how much splashing he could make with all his appendages going at once. He was splashing with his tail, his pec fins, and even, it looked like, his head. Then he went back to the hunt.

While we were there the Mowachaht/Muchalaht patrol boat, the Wi-hut-suh-nup, spent some time circling the perimeter of Luna's territory.

The previous day, Wednesday, we travelled on the Uchuck III, the freighter and passenger ship that plies Nootka Sound almost every day. The Uchuck III passes regularly through Luna’s territory. In the past Luna has followed in the Uchuck III’s wake for mile after mile, but these days he seems to attach himself to its waves only while the ship passes through his familiar territory.

The Uchuck III trip started off with something unexpected: The Canadian Navy ship HMCS Vancouver, a Halifax-class frigate, was deep in Nootka Sound, close to the Gold River docks, apparently on manoeuvres. The ship dwarfed the Uchuck. It is described by the Navy as one of the most advanced warships in the world, and includes as part of its arsenal “extensive anti-submarine” defensive systems. As the big ship steamed down the sound ahead of the Uchuck III we wondered two things: First, would it be using any high-powered sonar in the Sound, and if so, would that have any effect on Luna? And second, would Luna choose to follow this truly magnificent vessel and forget about his old favourite, the Uchuck III?

We don’t know about the answer to the first, but we soon found out that Luna preferred the familiar old ex-minesweeper to the fancy frigate. He joined the Uchuck III as it steamed at full speed through his area. He seemed unaffected by any sonar that the Vancouver may have used. We assume that the ship’s officers were well aware of the presence of Luna in the Sound and chose not to blast him with sound. (There is, of course, another explanation for what we hope was the Vancouver’s sonic quietness: Perhaps Luna knocked off its transducers. Now that would be a story.)

At the Uchuck III, Luna surfed along at about midships on the port side, riding the outside edges of the wake with just a couple of inches of his dorsal creasing the water, but his body showing as a bulge in the contour of the wake. Every twenty seconds or so he’d break the water with an explosive porpoising jump to catch a breath and go down again. This lasted for about five minutes, then he peeled away, came up for a couple of breaths aft of the ship, and went back to fishing.

The Uchuck III’s destination that day was Yuquot, also known as Friendly Cove, and the ship came back through Luna’s territory later in the afternoon. The same thing happened then but for a much shorter time.

The Uchuck III’s owners do not use Luna in any part of their promotion for their ship’s activities, in part because they don’t believe it’s appropriate to seek to profit from Luna that way, and also because it wouldn’t be fair to the passengers, because there are often trips on which Luna is too busy foraging to follow in the wake. But it remains a great way to at least attempt to get a look at him without interfering in his daily life. Certainly the passengers on our particular trip seemed delighted to get only a glimpse. (And the trip itself to Yuquot -- with or without Luna -- is always incredible.)

We never get over that delight at seeing Luna ourselves, even for a brief moment. When we get out onto the Sound to watch Luna, we often sit on a rock for hours without seeing him. Either he’s elsewhere or the whitecaps deceive our eyes. Yet when that dorsal pops up in the distance, it’s always electrifying. Trying to figure out why we think of it that way is a little too introspective even for us. But it’s a simple feeling, really: when his distant dark silhouette shows up under that plume of breath, everything just gets a little brighter.