Losing Midnight
On September 17th, we lost Midnight.
At 9pm we received word that a humpback whale had been stuck by BC Ferries enroute to Prince Rupert, close to Hartley Bay and the Fin Island Research Station. It was unknown if the whale was injured or had lost its life. At first light the next morning, Grace and Laurie were on the boat searching, stopping for every whale to look for signs of injury, hopeful that the whale was still alive. While they searched, Janie was in communication with members of the Gitga’at Oceans and Land Department, Gitga’at Guardians, Hermann of the Pacific Whale Society, Paul Cottrell, and the coastguard, relaying real-time updates of the search as she received them.
At 10:30am – Grace and Laurie saw what was unmistakably the struck whale, floating dead at the surface and in direct line of sight to where the strike occurred. The humpback whale was Midnight (BCX1940), a long-time resident male whale, bubble net feeder, and companion to many whales within these waters.
Very quickly, Brodie Danes of the Gitga’at Guardians as well as the team on the coastguard vessel the Cadboro Bay arrived to help us relocate Midnight to a beach where a necropsy can occur. By 3pm, Midnight was secured on shore.
This was an incredibly emotional day for our team. We know the whales here by name, and as unique individuals. Losing any whale is a loss of unique knowledge and culture in the population. At this time of year, male humpback whales begin to sing in these waters. It dawned on us that we would never again hear Midnight sing.
Wright Sound, the area where Midnight was struck, is known for being incredibly dense with both humpback and fin whales during the summer and fall. BC Ferries did the right thing by reporting this strike immediately, but it is clear that more needs to be done to protect whales from vessel strikes in these waters. Slow down zones, especially for large vessels, would be the best place to start.
We are comforted in knowing that Midnights story is not lost, and hopefully can help to enact positive change for whales to ensure the habitats they rely on are safe for them in the future.
Related Posts
It’s around 5 am when I begin to stir. The faint sounds of the resident orca family known as the A30s filling the small, six-by-four meter cabin perched on the rocks, brings me into consciousness. The world’s greatest alarm clock. I am alone on this island as I wriggle out of my cosy nest, switch on my lamp and fumble around for my glasses. The whispers of light from the start of the day hover faintly above Vancouver Island as I peer out of the cabin, adjusting my eyes.
Having launched the drone with a petri dish attached to it, we fly the drone through multiple exhales, collecting a fine mist of sticky, clear coloured whale blow within the dish. Crucial at this moment in time is for us to capture a photo of the humpback’s tail fluke as it rolls into view, or of a fin whale’s dorsal fin, as they prepare for a deep dive.
Within 30 seconds I am standing on the big deck of our little cabin, launching the first of two research drones into the air. I’ve got Eric standing next to me, camera in hand, a second set of eyes on the drone and the humpback whale, maximising our chances of locating it from the air.
