Our Gray Swam Away

An emaciated juvenile gray whale died this week on a beach at Erlands Point in Dyes Inlet. The sad story was reported in the Kitsap Sun, which mentioned that the dead whale was examined by several marine biologists. In contrast a full-grown gray whale that spent part of a summer off the north end of Treasure Island about 15 years ago failed to attract any attention from the scientific community or the media.

At the time my cousin J. A. was curator of mammals at Sea World in San Diego. “We have a solitary whale that’s hanging out near Treasure Island,” I told him. “It’s big and ugly, it stinks, and it doesn’t seem to have any plans to leave.” I also mentioned that I was wondering why the media weren’t all over the event. Didn’t anyone care? Certainly it was the biggest story swimming around in the waters off sleepy Mason County.

“Don’t worry about the whale,” he wrote back. “It sounds like a gray whale. This isn’t unusual. When it runs out of food, it will leave and will rejoin the rest of the herd.” (Or maybe he said pod. Whatever.) He didn’t seem concerned that the straggler, located in remote Case Inlet, was at least 80 miles from the West Coast gray-whale migration route.

Our gray whale, dubbed “Cortez,” after the Sea of Cortez in Baja California and the Seahawks gigantic all-pro lineman Cortez Kennedy, was totally focused on one objective—finding food. A baleen whale, Cortez was literally eating the bottom of the Grapeview Channel and then using his (or perhaps her) comb-like baleen plates to filter out any food morsels. Every few minutes, the whale would surface, spout out a smelly mixture of air, water, and mud, and head back down for another load. This went on for weeks.

Although Cortez seemed peaceful enough, a few brave kayakers got much closer to the big gray whale than I would have. Fortunately, the hard-working Cortez ignored these thrill seekers. Had the 35-ton marine mammal surfaced directly under their small craft, the results could have been tragic. On quiet nights I would hear him swimming in the channel perhaps 75 yards out. I remember thinking this was as close as I would ever get to a large mammal that could kill me with ease, intentionally or not, and I would be powerless to stop it. I’m not counting observing big cats at the zoo because they are in enclosures. In this case, staying on shore was my safety fence.

Cortez attracted the efforts of several amateur photographers. I wish I had a picture for the blog to show how ugly he was. Except for orcas, most whales don’t look all that great in close-up photos. But with his blotchy skin, lumpy body, and lack of any grooming, the barnacle-encrusted Cortez looked bad from any distance. No wonder no one from the press ever showed up.

I can’t remember exactly how long the big gray whale was our neighbor that summer. But eventually he moved on just like my cousin predicted. Whether he rejoined others of his species isn’t recorded.