one of the guides, “I got to go up in a helicopter and we could see the belugas all the way to the bottom. The river was packed like sardines.” The day after the storm, the belugas did not approach us, or the boat. Instead, they cruised by at a distance, with their backs appearing above the surface for just a second, and then disappearing for even longer in the soupy mix of sediment and brackish water. It’s a good thing that they’re
capable of navigating by senses other than sight. Their highly developed echolocation produces two distinct pulses that, when combined, increase the range and accuracy of object detection. We cannot help but feel blind knowing that so many belugas know way more about our presence than we do about theirs. Belugas have a ‘reverse’ migration
pattern: they spend the coldest months further north right along the pack ice, and the warmest months in
the most southern part of their range where warm estuaries stimulate their annual skin molt and keep their young protected from killer whales. As is common to most ice adapted cetaceans, belugas do not have a dorsal fin. In size, they are about halfway between a dolphin and the second smallest cetacean, and are predated only by polar bears and killer whales. Though the Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada (COSEWIC) classifies the Western beluga whale population as one of ‘special concern’, both the Eastern and Ungava Bay populations are ‘endangered’. A history of commercial hunting
combined with an increase in water pollution has put most of the world’s beluga populations on watch.
…we get many glimpses of different pods as they glide by, all rolling on their backs for a better view of us
The belugas
are not camera shy, or people shy for that
matter. Author Shoshanah
Jacobs smiles for the camera
The species shows a remarkable propensity for site fidelity; individuals will return to the same estuary year after year. This behavior increases the risk to the population because disturbances are unlikely to be avoided. Here in Churchill, over 3,000 belugas congregate during the late summer months. On another dive, we get many
glimpses of different pods as they glide by us, all rolling on their backs if we’re above them, so they get a better view. Their songs change and for a brief moment I imagine that they’re humming back the chorus of ‘Dancing Queen’ in harmony with my own rather sad attempt given the bluish tinge of my lips around my regulator. Some brave individuals approach us to make faces at Uli’s large domed camera. Perhaps it looks like his version of a melonhead. As the only species of whale able to move their neck vertebrae, the belugas crane their heads to keep an eye on us, neck fat
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