Seattle Post-Intelligencer
SAN JUAN ISLAND, Washington—It sounds like a bad night at the bingo
hall as heavy-hearted researchers at the Center for Whale Research list
lost friends of recent years.
There are dozens: J-18, the male
that washed up off Vancouver last March with an open ulceration; L-51, a
reproductive female, and L-97, her young calf; K-4, a grandma that would
have been a great-great-grandma if she had lived.
"We have had so many losses, I thought, 'Well, we are at the bottom,'" said Astrid Maria van Ginneken, a professor from the University of Netherlands who has been volunteering at the center for 15 years, helping to document the southern resident "J," "K," and "L" orca pods.
That bottom gave out recently when the center announced another seven killer whales missing in action, presumed dead, thus reducing the local population of killer whales to a precarious 78.
"I thought, 'Oh God! This can't be true,'" van Ginneken said, her voice a whisper. "I thought, 'Where is this going to end?'"
It was a question on everyone's mind this week as eco-attuned islanders mourned the iconic animal that should symbolize all that's right in their clean, green world. Suddenly, it seems to symbolize all that is wrong: dwindling runs of the orcas' favorite salmon; toxins dumped in the water that accumulate in the animal's fat.
"It's sickening; it's sad," said Carey Worthen, docking in Friday Harbor on his 36-foot Maine lobster boat. "And the season's not over yet. I'd be surprised if we don't lose another one or two whales."
Widespread Sympathy
On an island where orcas rival dogs as man's best friend and even hard-core scientists can get teary talking whales, the news hit hard.
"It's a real blow to the heart to realize that the family of whales is eroding," said Gary Boothman, the mayor of Friday Harbor, which is the county seat for the San Juan Islands. "It seems to be a symbol that a lot of things we've taken for granted are slowly going away."
Boothman likened the loss to the death of a "dear friend." Others used spiritual terms to describe their affinity to the orcas, which have returned to the waters of Haro Strait to feed each spring for some 10,000 years.
"I was flabbergasted," said Michael Niedzielski, who tends bar at the Front Street Ale House, an English-style pub with handcrafted beer and well-rubbed brass mermaid fixtures. "You can call it psychic or whatever, but it's like they are our kindred spirits."
