This is the photo I wanted, over a week ago. A golden meltdown at dusk, with no trees in the way.
To get that shot, I clambered down below the house, in front of the tree curtain. Took many shots of the sun traveling toward that hill on the right, over Mayne Island.
Then I turned around to get back to the house, started climbing back up the hill… and broke my ankle after dislodging a rock. “Was it worth it?” someone asked. Well…
Every spring, the cycle of whale watching begins anew in the waters around this island. I say cycle, but I could also use the word circus to describe what goes on.
Over the past few weeks, humpback whales have been going back and forth in Boundary Pass, south of Saturna.
In the photo above, taken May 30 at around 2 p.m., there are two humpback whales (you can spot the back hump of one of them, on the left, close to the big boat). The whales are outnumbered, to say the least…
Because there are only two humpback whales instead of a pod of orcas, the numerous boats jockey for position, so that their customers get a good view and/or picture of the whales. The boats are supposed to keep their distance, and not interfere with the path of the animals.
Below is the graphic I got from the Pacific Whale Watching Association (PWWA), illustrating the standards they are supposed to observe. Note that on the Canadian side, we are much more lax than the Americans: boats only have to stay 100 yards away from the whales, instead of 200 yards in US waters.
On its guidelines page, the PWWA piously offers the following information:
“The development of these Best Practices (guidelines) have given guests from around the world the ability to learn about wildlife through observation while creating minimal to no impact to the animals. The industry, government and non-governmental organization conservation management model employed in these waters (and initiated by PWWA) is one of the most comprehensive self-management conservation frameworks in the world. It has been proven to be one of the most utilized conservation tools wherever charistmatic, protected megafauna are viewed, and has been presented at the Conference of the North American Committee for Environmental Cooperation (NACEC) attended by the United States, Canada and Mexico.”
“…Minimal to no impact to the animals… Comprehensive self-management?…” I beg to differ. The white boat above was constantly trying very hard to stay within the 100 yard margin. Captain got a big tip?
And one of the Explorathors from Vancouver, above, is idling in the path of the whales, on purpose. Another no-no.
Here are the boats in question. Above, Explorathor II. Below, Explorathor Express.
ID number for the white boat, which was otherwise unidentified: C19967BC.
Tourism is a good thing. Educating the public about wildlife in an engaging and exciting manner is also a good thing. But you also have to treat the object of your interest with respect. Stick to the guidelines.
What exactly is too much of a good thing? How many boats should be allowed to surround two whales, and for how long?
Report any whale or orca harassment, here are the numbers:
In Canada to Fisheries and Oceans Canada
1-800-465-4336
In the U.S. to NOAA Fisheries, Office of Law Enforcement
1-800-853-1964
This post could also be titled “When deer go bad.”
This pretty much explains why all the trees on this island have a “tutu skirt”, at about saddle height.
See the three “action shots” taken with a phone through my window on a grey day, below. Not very crisp, I admit, but they show a determined black-tailed deer, springing up to “box” at a Garry oak branch until the vibration brings it within reach…
Get ready, set, jump.
And grasp, and pull. The whole tree was shaking. Impressive ripping.
No predators means an overabundant population of black-tailed deer in the Southern Gulf Islands, and Southern Vancouver Island, including Victoria’s suburbs… and even downtown.
This means that gardens and any special specimen tree or shrub must be fenced. And by fenced, I mean gulag-style, at least 6 to 8 feet tall. Otherwise, vegetation gets grazed practically to lawn level. Not fenced like in the photo below:
This picture of young people admiring camas lilies, was taken (not by me) at Fort Rodd Hill, in Victoria. While it is well-intended, it is laughable.
Note the mini-fence, designed to keep people off the flowers in a Garry Oak meadow. The deer would have no problem mowing these plants down. Someone must be guarding those flowers from dusk to morning, because meadow flowers are part of the deer buffet.
I have a Garry Oak meadow in front of my house: it looks like a golf green. In ten years, I only occasionally got a glimpse of camas lilies and other wildflowers. Only a glimpse, mind you. They were rapidly erased by our four-legged friends.
Final part of my rant: new trees don’t stand a chance. Inside my garden fence, which was installed three summers ago, I have spotted little Garry oaks popping up under the parent tree. Little arbutus (or madrone, in the US) are also coming up. These trees are valued because this is the northern part of their habitat, a habitat that is being degraded. I repeat: outside a fenced area, saplings don’t stand a chance.
In forest clearings around here, young firs and cedars are browsed into little pitiful stumpy things about two feet high…
Deer cull: two four-letter words.
It’s not that I don’t like them. It’s just that I like them in reasonable numbers.
Walks in the forest can be dark, around here. The trees are very tall, and they occupy the sky. Down below, little surprises are hiding.
The golden little “manos arriba!” mushroom, above, is probably a coral mushroom being born… on an old tree stump covered with moss. It was hard to miss, sunlight was caressing it in the middle of dark cedar and fir shade.
And this tiny white one (sorry, don’t know its name) was the one I saw because I had to bend down to tie a loose lace. There it was, next to the trail, a delicate and practically glowing treasure. Maybe 2 centimeters tall…
And then I turn my gaze up, and admire how tall the trees are around here. I am reminded of Terry Pratchett’s observation about the “race for the light”…
“There are no medium-sized trees in the deep forest. There are only the towering ones, whose canopy spreads across the sky. Below, in the gloom, there’s light for nothing but mosses and ferns. But when a giant falls, leaving a little space … then there’s a race — between the trees on either side, who want to spread out, and the seedlings below, who race to grow up. Sometimes, you can make your own space.”
– Terry Pratchett, Small Gods
On February 27, I watched the sky turn to gold while listening to a Scarlatti sonata (L33), played by Vladimir Horowitz. A perfect moment.
