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It is now perhaps appropriate to do this final summary about the wanderings of Yukusam. In the early hours of March 18 Lisa, at OrcaLab, was continuing to hear and record Yukusam as he moved around Johnstone Strait. He remained present until just before noon and Lisa guessed (correctly, as it turned out) that he had gone east. It all seemed so normal for what we had come to expect from him. We did not immediately realize that this time he was finally on his way. After all, he had that habit of coming back. On March 10, Shayla Attfield spotted Yukusam far to the east off Sayward. But soon afterwards he managed, once again, to find his way back to the upper Johnstone Strait. But the rest of March 18 was not without some unrelated drama. Towards late afternoon, early evening, we received a call that there were humpbacks off Blackney Pass. This was exciting news as they had not yet arrived back in this area. The relayed report sent Lisa and Janie headed to the Lab to check with the cameras. As they got to the Lab, they heard the distinctive sounds of Bigg’s orcas (and briefly faint dolphins) off the entrance to Blackney Pass and began to think that the blows thought to be humpbacks were probably the Bigg’s. While they recorded, Helena (in Alert Bay) took a look around on the remote cameras and located the orca group heading west across the entrance to Blackney Pass. Later, this same group passed Alert Bay where Robin Quirk took photos from which it was later determined that these were the T19s. With the excitement of the the Bigg’s over, and Yukusam not seemingly in range, the day ended peacefully. However, as subsequent days passed without any sign of Yukusam it began to dawn that he might just have moved on. After more than a month of his almost daily presence the Strait began to feel quite empty. No longer was there the comforting rhythm of his continuous powerful clicks, some heavy like a hammer, others like the sharp sound of stone being struck, others like rapid fire. Gone were were the unexpected special sequences, the coda-like bursts that startled and made us wonder what Yukusam was really up to. Gone were the “creaks” or “buzzes” that kept us guessing whether or not he was hunting, and if so, whether successfully. Our lives had fallen into step with his presence, movements and sounds. We worried about him. When conditions were right Jared made trips out to see him. On two of these occasions Lisa went with him providing the Lab with closer photos and impressions. They were able to ascertain that Yukusam seemed in reasonable, even good condition, despite being in such unfamiliar waters with the uncertainty of prey availability. He had rhythms not only in his sound patterns but also in the manner in which he travelled up and down the Strait. On average, up for 10 minutes down for forty, up near Robson Bight, then Kaikash, Blinkhorn, and finally past the Wastells, where he would eventually begin the turn and retrace his steps to the east. Sometimes we got lucky and found him with the remote cameras. The view was inevitably distant but satisfying beyond expectations. Photographer Ian McAllister, sailing north in the Strait on his way to the central coast, happened on him by chance east of Robson Bight around 6pm on March 14 and sent the photos for our records. Our last “look” on the remote camera was on March 17 when he was off Little Kaikash headed east just after 6pm. Paul and Helena had just returned to Alert Bay from visiting the Lab and were listening to Yukusam when he suddenly became silent. This was taken as a clue that perhaps he was on his way up to the surface. Sure enough, he was located just in time to catch his last blows and tail as he dove. Even though the actual sightings were few Jared had managed to get a lot of information during his excursions, and our recordings lent an added layer as well, so everyone felt fairly happy with the effort. Many people were consulted during this extraordinary time. OrcaLab would like to thank Hervé Glotin and Elizabeth Zwamborn in particular. Both Jared and Lisa were also in contact with others who aided in our collective understanding of this amazing species. But it was this one, 13 meter solitary whale, who had kept us all on a string from February 11 to March 18 was our exceptional instructor. He was nearly all anyone could think about, day or night. Then he was gone. As the following days passed we imagined that we would never know where his journey would lead him. Then on March 27th word came from John Ford that Yukusam was off Nanaimo! Pictures and recordings were taken. Yukusam, in nine days had travelled the entire length of Johnstone Strait, possibly through the tricky passage of Seymour Narrows and on into Georgia Strait. John reported that he apparently went down Northumberland Channel but turned back before going through Dodd Narrows and was last seen off Pipers Lagoon at dusk. What could possibly happen now? A few more uneventful days passed, and then on March 31 he was again located heading into Haro Strait off the northern tip of Stuart Island, Washington. A few hours later, two local hydrophones picked up his characteristic clicks. Because the Lime Kiln hydrophone broadcasts to the public we got to listen that night to Yukusam one more time! How reassuring, speaker close by, listening to that familiar “voice” with a clear picture of him in our minds as the strong clicks persisted. Sometime later (not too long afterwards) he moved on, his clicks fading into the depths. By morning with no further news, we began to hope he had continued to find his way out to open waters and perhaps back to more familiar playgrounds. Yukusam, we wish you well. Thank you for the visit. You touched so many. We will remember.
OrcaLab
03 Apr 2018 09:40:08 PDT |
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