Breathe. Wheel. Flukes Up. Dive. Swim On, Whales!

April 24th was Massachusetts Right Whale Day. A vertical puff of water vapor split the air on that bright, calm day in Cape Cod Bay off Provincetown’s Wood End Lighthouse. The V-shaped blow is not visible because the whale is positioned broadside to us. Most baleen whales have narrower spouts. With no dorsal fin and a brief glimpse of broad flukes—the whale’s tail—confirms the presence of a right whale, approximately 50 feet long.

Right whale spout seen from afar with Wood End Lighthouse in the background on a clear blue day. — *A right whale releases a vertical spout off Provincetown’s Wood End Lighthouse on Massachusetts Right Whale Day.*

Right whales are so rare that whale-watching vessels must stay at least 500 yards, or 1,500 feet, away so as not to disturb them. Right whales are like icebergs in freshwater, with most of their bodies hidden underwater. We watched the magnificent mammals from a distance.

Two right whales worked the shore along Herring Cove. Herring gulls showed no interest in the whales as they followed the fishing boat, heading for the harbor with the morning’s catch. Right whales eat zooplankton, straining small animals that drift in the water column with six-foot-long cartilage plates hanging down from the roof of the whale’s mouth. Hairs on baleen form a fine mesh that traps zooplankton inside, where the whale’s tongue, the size of a BMW Smart car, swipes and swallows.

A pair of right whales swim in synchronization, turning and rolling onto their right side to elevate the left side of their flukes above the water. A third whale follows closely behind the twisting whales.

Today, the whales are likely eating shoals of Calanus copepods that are corralled between them and the steeply rising shore. We saw between 12 and 17 right whales from Race Point, with its lighthouse, to Long Point, which has a lighthouse at the tip of the sandy finger at the end of the raised arm known as Cape Cod.

Further offshore from Herring Cove, a slim, long whale with a sharply curved dorsal fin blows, wheels, and dives. With many decades of experience, the whale-watch boat captain maneuvers closer and stops the engine as a second sei whale surfaces. Reaching as much as 60 feet, sei whales are the third largest whale in the world, preceded by blue and fin whales. Sei is Norwegian for pollack fish, as they were often seen together.

Sei whale dorsal fin just above surface in calm blue waters off the Cape. — *A sei whale arches before diving — its slim frame and distinct dorsal fin barely breaking the surface.*

The two dark, bluish-gray whales settle beneath the water beside the boat, the white of their undersides visible as they roll onto their sides. The roqual grooves along their pleated chin and cheeks distend. Still in the water, these whales let the plankton float into their mouths, or so we think, as we cannot see any plankton in the dark waters. They rose to breathe after a few minutes, which seemed to our astonishment like an eternity.

The first humpback whales of the season are found north of Race Point. Low in the water, they appear to be lounging about, perhaps taking it easy after a morning of feeding on sand lance. Last week, I found the pencil-thin fish on the Herring Cove beach, likely dropped by a gull.

A humpback whale partially surfaced, showing blowholes and dorsal fins in blue open ocean. — *A humpback whale lies below the surface with its blowholes and dorsal fin above the water.*

A humpback whale lies below the surface with its blowholes and dorsal fin above the water. To the right, a second whale stirs the water that laps over its back.

The boat floats by the two humpback whales. Looking through the water, we see the whale’s 15-foot-long white flipper. The scientific name for humpback whales is Megaptera novaeangliae, meaning large-winged New Englander.

We are startled to see a second flipper looming white beneath the whale. A third whale is stealthily poised directly below the whale on the surface. When we saw two whales on the surface, there were really four humpbacks, surfacing two by two.

Later, all four whales were on the surface nearly at once. One rolled on its side to reach an enormous flipper to the sky. The narrator assured us that the whale was not waving. Whales slap the water to communicate with more distant whales, but there were no slapping sounds today.

The whales slowly drifted beneath our vessel, revealing their entire outlines from above. Here, the tail fluke can be seen while the head and flippers are on the other side of the boat. The whales moved beneath us, from left to right and then from right to left, four times!

Finally, a humpback whale lifted its tail before diving. The black and white pattern on the underside was recognized as belonging to the female humpback named Habanero for the appearance of a chili pepper mark. Habanero is well known to the Dolphin Fleet of whale watch vessels. Habanero was observed with a calf in September 2012. A second humpback was identified as Candlestick. The other two humpbacks never showed their tails.

Tail fluke of a humpback whale above the water, with Cape Cod shoreline and water tower in background. — *The black-and-white tail fluke of Habanero, a known female humpback, rises above the bay before she dives deep once more.*

Returning to the harbor, the right whales continued to forage along the shoreline. These whales are called urban whales because they come near our urban shores more often than others. Right whales do not migrate, except for females that give birth off Savannah and Jacksonville. The newborns have little blubber and require warm water. However, these clear waters offer little food. Therefore, right whales travel to Cape Cod Bay for the abundant shoals of zooplankton. They may stay for six weeks before spreading out across the North Atlantic.

Lobstermen do not trap during April and May along Massachusetts’ sandy shores and boat traffic consists of smaller vessels alert to right whales. The greatest threat to right whale survival is the diminishing availability of food. Our pollutants have caused phytoplankton productivity to drop by 60% since 2000. Copepods now have less fat content, requiring whales to consume more to obtain the same nutritional value.

What we are doing to the land is harmful. We have crossed a tipping point by removing vegetation and soil, which hard surfaces and urbanization have replaced. There are cascading negative consequences. Boston’s annual rainfall is a steady 46.4 inches a year, yet, destructive stormwater and combined sewer overflows are rising because we have removed the vegetation and the soil carbon sponge.

Water that once soaked into the ground now washes across heat islands. It warms up and transports heat to the ocean. The year 2023 was not an exceptionally hot summer for Boston but it was the wettest summer since 1955. This resulted in a record warming of the Gulf of Maine surface waters nearest to Boston. While 2021 was Boston’s hottest summer, the surface ocean water did not experience significant warming.

Nutrients spilled into the sea fuel harmful algal blooms and ocean dead zones. The ten-fold increase in the use of the herbicide Roundup since 1996, when Monsanto developed crops resistant to glyphosate, is likely more than coincidental to the loss of phytoplankton.

The solution to the threat to the ocean ecosystems on which whales depend lies on land. Land should be granted the right to retain the rainwater that falls upon it. Developers should not be permitted to profit from their constructions while leaving the municipality responsible for managing increased stormwater, likely leaving people in the flood zone standing in CSO sewage.

The dry land heats up worsening climate change when developers starve the land of water. Property owners must instead slow water down, return it to the ground where plants may draw to photosynthesize during the dry season, where groundwater may recharge rivers, and with water in the ground to prevent forest fires. Let’s improve the whale’s marine ecosystem with no more pollution, stormwater damage, and ocean heating from the land.

Returning past Race Point, a right whale raised its head high out of the water. Gray baleen plates hung beneath a white, encrusted black upper lip. In doing so, I don’t know what advantage was gained by the whale. I took it as a smile, as my smile was no less broad.

Nearly fifty years ago, on April 15, 1976, I was on the first Dolphin Fleet whale watch. We saw right whales and a humpback whale that the boat captain’s son would later name Salt when he became the boat captain. Since then, Salt has birthed 12 calves and is the grandmother of seven more humpback whales. There were then estimated to be 350 right whales. Today’s estimate is 372 whales, not including the ten calves born last winter.

I was on the first commercial whale watch because two summers earlier, I was alone on the deck of a 27-foot sailboat, south of Seguin Light off the coast of Maine. A right whale surfaced next to the boat. I babbled, having never imagined that something alive could be the size of a sandbar. The whale left only a circular slick spot on the water for the rest of the crew to see.

We are fortunate to be in the company of whales, which grace our sandy shores for about six weeks in spring. The loss of vegetation and soil on our properties and in neighborhoods is harming the marine ecosystem on which right whales depend to break their winter fast. To ensure future generations can share the ocean with a burgeoning right whale population, we must increase the carbon sponge on our land and stop stormwater runoff.

Breathe. Wheel. Flukes up. Dive. Swim on, whales!

Dr. Rob Moir is a nationally recognized and award-winning environmentalist. He is the president and executive director of the Ocean River Institute, a nonprofit based in Cambridge, MA, that provides expertise, services, resources, and information not readily available on a localized level to support the efforts of environmental organizations. Please visit www.oceanriver.org for more information.

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