Another day another hydrophone

by Mike Cavatorta

Today Hermann and I went to do the other side of hydrophone installation, the setup of a remote power station to supply electricity.  This station is on Squally Channel, on the East coast of Campania Island and having it running will allow us to hear vocalizations to the West of Gil Island that would not be picked up by the other hydrophones.  Once again we don the heavy, stiff survival suits for the trip on the water and load the tools and materials over the rocks onto the boat.  The batteries and the big aluminum box that holds them are on site, the rest of the equipment consists of tools, a solar-electric panel, wind turbine, antenna, and lots of heavy cables.  It doesn’t sound like much as I write this but transporting anything heavy or bulky (including myself) over the slippery jagged rocks and seaweed is a very arduous process.  I remember as child enjoying the challenge of traversing rocky shores next to the ocean, jumping from rock to rock and over seaweed and tide pools.  Now I’m just worried about getting hurt falling on the rocks or even just wet, which could equal cold and uncomfortable for the rest of the day.  Even a relatively minor injury here would send me home.

After unloading on Campania we start moving the batteries and box to a central location between the solar panel, wind turbine, transmitter box and antenna.  We are using a small and seemingly overgrown trail, I assumed that Herman had made the trail last year but he later informed me that it is a wolf trail. The site is on a small point and we set up the solar panel on the south side, nestled among the rocks above the high tide line.  The transmitter will go on the North side, close to the anchors for the hydrophone cable.  The wind turbine is installed in a spruce tree at the Eastern tip of the point.  Meeghan has barred me from climbing trees after a fall at work last year so this is all up to Hermann.  After my own fall I still have little fear of heights, but I am very nervous watching him climb and remembering that it doesn’t take a long fall to get one seriously hurt.  Hermann is occasionally swearing and cursing in German and all I can do is shout up occasional words of support/encouragement.  Spruces are not easy trees to climb, especially for a tall adult.  Again I remember being a child and really enjoying climbing trees, the challenge to see how high you can get or just what is up there.  I think neither of us is getting a whole lot of joy from tree climbing today.  At least I can be useful stripping and laying out cable.  I run cable from the solar panel and the wind turbine site to the battery box.  I think we have enough left over to connect to the transmitter box that will be placed closer to the north side of the point.  After the turbine is installed Herman hooks up the charge controller and is pleased that we are getting current from both sources.  It seems absurd that what I just described took all day to complete but it did and all the while the tide was dropping so the trip back to the boat was extra long and slippery with all the tools etc.   But this is what it takes to do this type of research and data collection in a remote area.

After a few more trips and a dive by Hermann, Squally Hydrophone Station is now up and running and providing access to the acoustic world of the whales.  Because Herman and Janie can distinguish different Orca clan and family groups from one another from hearing the calls they make, these hydrophone stations  provide a great deal of information about which Orca families are here and what areas they are frequenting.  This is one more tool for understanding both the Orcas and the importance of the marine resources of the Great Bear Rain Forest.



I spent the last two weeks at the Cetacealab outcamp at Ulric Point: a small shelter perched on some rugged rocks above the storm tide line at the northern tip of Aristazabal Island outfitted with a camp stove, food barrels, a compass, binoculars, the Big Eyes (a wonderful spotting scope), a resident mouse, data sheets, and a great scientist who has dedicated yet another season to collecting ecological information about Caamano Sound in hopes of protecting it, James.

James and I observed all the water we could see from Ulric Point on and off from morning to night each day. Among hours of rain, fog, and waves were many more hours of great conditions where we could see all the way to the horizon with the Big Eyes. And wow, the things we saw. Right after I finished pitching my tent on the day I arrived at Ulric an enormous humpback swam by the shelter, right off the rocks. As it passed by it raised a huge bumpy grey-blue and white pectoral fin out of the water before diving and disappearing from the surface for a few minutes, reappearing farther out into the sound announced by a soft blow. We saw or heard orca nearly every day. On the day Hermann took me to Ulric, he and James finished putting in the hydrophone at Ulric Point so James and I were able to listen to orca while observing them. We saw and heard mostly the A30’s and A36’s. We saw an orca calf (A50’s new calf) breach and then interact with a Dall’s Porpoise, swimming alongside it and porpoiseing with it, ending each porpoise with an enthusiastic tail slap. We saw the resident humpback feeding group bubble net feed right by the hydrophone less than 100m from shore, five river otters swim in front of the shelter one night at sunset, a very confused-looking and very cute sea otter (one of the first ever seen in Caamano sound after sea otters were hunted nearly to extinction, which is very exciting), sea lions every day, harbour seals lurking around the kelp forest, a few elephant seals, and many beautiful seabirds. Near where James and I had our tents in the forest there was a bald eagle nest and we saw the pair nearly every day perched on their favourite tree just west of the shelter, swooping down ever so often to snatch an unsuspecting fish from just below the surface of the water.

More from Katie in a few days!

Blog written by Meeghan Ziolkowski

Fin Whales and Orcas

5:45 a.m.   I hear the sound of a man’s voice calling across the water.  “It’s Hermann!  There are whales.”  I jump up, stuff my feet into my boots, tear out of the tent. In less than ninety seconds  I am on the rocky point to see if Hermann’s waiting.  He’s not.  It was two sport fishermen yelling to each other about something utterly un-whale related.  I find out later that Hermann was out on the research vessel, Elemiah, trying to solve the mystery of why the “Sea Lion Camera” signal isn’t transmitting to the lab.  Sigh.

7:45 a.m.    The alarm goes off and I am up (again) and in the lab having my first cup of tea.  The VHS radio squawks, “Whale Point, Whale Point -  Elemiah.  If someone can be ready in ten minutes they can come check out the orcas reported.”  Mike dashes to grab the survival suits.  I grab our “whale bag” which is pre-packed with water, granola bars, sunscreen, camera, binoculars, sun hat, and toilet paper.  With a “marine mammal sighting sheet” in my other hand I’m off to the boat.

8:45 a.m.     We’re still in sight of the lab when we see the first orca.  It’s a familiar one, well, it’s a familiar one to Hermann; I’m just getting to know him.  It’s A46 .  He’s been sighted a few times already this spring; he spent some time in Taylor Bight feeding just the other day.  He rounds York Point and heads toward the lab.  His brother A37 and adopted A12 meander by later.

9:45   There are more orcas traveling toward us in Whale Channel.  They are far in the distance, but we hear reports over the radio.  I love this.  “Elemiah, Elemiah from Daryl, there are orca outside Bear Point.” “Whale Point, Whale Point from Logan, just calling to make sure you see the breaching humpbacks off Ashdown.”  It’s really encouraging how many people care about the whales, how friendly and helpful they are, and how much they support Hermann and Janie’s work.

As we wait for the orcas, a gorgeous fin whale glides by.  She is long and sleek, solid grey without a blemish, and massive.  AND, by her side is a calf.  They just slide through the water and sink below, Queens of the Sound, hardly making a ripple.

We try to get some identification photos, but they are moving away quickly.  (Because of their size, they manage to move very slowly, regally, and yet cover a lot of distance, fast.)

We just drift and wait.  Whale researchers are patient.  Patient and determined and passionate. It’s the kind of passion that doesn’t seem to diminish over time.  All of us volunteers get really excited when we see whales; but, it’s really telling that Hermann and Janie still get excited.

10:45     Back to the orcas who are cruising toward us in a loosely woven group.  It is impossible to overstate their beauty.  They gleam in the sunlight.  But, they are not just beautiful, they also powerful animals and precision swimmers.  One of them swims close by the boat and we can see him under the water.  I’m not sure why, but seeing a whale underwater takes my breath away.   Even though it is easier to see them clearly above water, underwater is where they live.  It’s a blurry picture, but it’s a more complete and, somehow, more intimate picture of them.

The family we are with are the “A23s”.  The oldest female and male are the siblings of a really famous orca named Corky.   She lives in a tank at SeaWorld and is the oldest captive whale.  There’s been a movement to return Corky to the wild and her family.  We watch this whale splashing along with her family and know that her sister, who would normally be right by her side, is in a small tank, far far away.

Swoosh, and they are by us.  And now they are right by a fin whale.  At first we think it is the same momma and calf, but we don’t see the baby.  Not to worry, though, the A23s are resident orcas; this means they eat fish.  (Evidently, “Mammals are friends, not food” to these whales.)  It seems that orca traveling with fin whales is fairly unusual.  James, who staffs and outpost on Ulrich Point (picture seaweed covered jagged rocks, a rickety shelter, a giant viewing scope, and a dedicated Canadian) says that he saw this only once last year.

Seeing the orcas nearby really puts fin whales into perspective.  Orcas are not petite: 25-35 feet long and up to six tons (that’s SIX elephants!)   But next to the fin whale, the orcas look like fish fry darting about a boulder.  At one point the fin whale dives facing us and we get a view of her girth.  Wow.  She’s really HUGE. “ Just to be clear,” Georgie points out, “tell them fin whales are NOT fat. They are very, very sleek.”  It’s true.  It’s just that they are so long (80 ft)—well, they are the second largest animal on earth.  This led to a very interesting discussion in the lab as I’m writing.  I had Mike looking up facts for my blog and oddly he had a hard time finding the belt size of a fin whale.  His rough calculations came to 35’ around.

Back to Elemiah and the whales.  The fin whale eventually dives away.  The orcas look like they are stopping for a snack.  They are diving and milling around, having a few fishy bites to eat.  And THEN, we hear a tonal blow--the elephantine exclamation of a humpback.

We leave the diving humpback surrounded by leaping orca, the fin whale and her calf to a day with out the presence of our curious eyes.

“Next to actually watching the whales, this is the best part,” Janie tells me two mornings later as we start sorting through photos to try to identify the whales.   At first I found it exhausting; later, when I got to use my new skills, it was pretty exciting.  We sorted through dozens of photos; some were clear identifications, most were blurry, side flukes, too small, too dark, too light, too curly, too twirly. . .    We sorted through them to clearly identify the five whales that were in the Bight the day before:  Sarah and calf and three juveniles new to the area.

The best part came later in the day. Mike, Georgie, and I were on our own in the lab (and doing a fantastic job of it).  Early in the day Mike spotted three humpbacks fairly far in the distance.  By my shift they were in “F, M” which means they were in West Taylor Bight, but to the south of “white log beach” about medium far from shore. The three whales came in closer and closer and then travelled slowly right by the front of the lab.  We followed them, clicking away but only getting photos of their somewhat spotty sides and tiny dorsal fins.  They were clearly resting, moving slowly, and not fluking.  Well, as one lazed by, he raised his fluke half-heartedly, barely showing two inches above the water.  They circled around the east side of Taylor Bight.  Yesterday I missed the humpbacks who were so close to shore that Janie looked one right in the eye.  I was hoping for a repeat performance.  It wasn’t quite that spectacular, but they did get pretty close.  Although, on this second pass by the lab the air became very, very stinky.  And then the jokes began about resting, pooping whales.  (Poor whales.  Sometimes research volunteers get a little punchy and for a moment forget their magnificence. It was probably just their breath, anyway.)

Back to the photo identification.  Finally, finally, the whales fluked and Mike captured some great photos.  I dashed to the computer (yes, I know, in geeky fashion, leaving the actual whales for the digital ones). While Mike continued to track the whales I downloaded the photos onto the computer.  (I quadruple checked myself during this process, terrified I’d make a mistake and somehow ruin all whale research forever by accidentally deleting something.  All went well, though.  The disc went back into the camera and the photos are safely in their neatly labelled folder.)  I thoroughly loved the tedious detective work of sorting through this new batch of photos we collected all on our own to pick out the best ones for identification and to sort out who was here.  At the end of looking at spots and dots on the flukes I picked out an id photo for each whale.

When Janie returned from the research boat I was grinning like a five year old presenting a homemade mother’s day present.  Janie very kindly accommodated by eagerness to show off my brand new photo sorting skills.  She immediately noticed that one of the whales is Dave.  (Dave is famous from early Blog entries and has been hanging around off and on this spring.)  The other two whales are new to the area.  One has a neat design on the left side of his fluke.  I think it kind of looks like a stylized lobster.  We batted name ideas around.  Georgie liked the idea of these three whales just hanging around like regular guys, “you know, Dave and his mates . ”  (Georgie is from the UK, by the way.)   I asked if we could name the lobster one “Rob” after my uncle.  He’s a good guy to hang around with!  And so the whale spotted on June 1, first picked up in a scan by Mike and noted in the log by myself as whale 6A, identified by photo #9814 is now Lobster Rob.