It’s late in the season and Captain Tera Lynn Ballman is hoping for one more great outing.
Somewhere under the grey-green waves of Hudson Bay, a multitude of large animals is in motion. Collectively, they comprise one of the most astonishing sights in Canadian coastal waters – a beluga bonanza that has become a magnet for tourists and researchers alike.
But summer is fading and the weather forecast is uncertain. It’s a dice roll whether we will be out long enough to see belugas today.
Based on surveys by Fisheries and Oceans Canada, some 55,000 beluga whales – more than a quarter of the entire species – make their way to the southwest coast of Hudson Bay after the sea ice breaks up in June.
Most congregate around the Nelson, Churchill and Seal rivers, where fresh water flowing up from the south brings nutrients that attract fish. The geography of the rivers also offers protection after the ice disappears.
Once they arrive, they feed, nurse their young and molt – shedding dead skin by rubbing against the stony riverbeds.
Hudson
Bay
Seal River
Churchill
Churchill River
Churchill
River
Whales can
swim as far
as Mosquito
Point
MANITOBA
The Weir
Port Nelson
Nelson River
50 km
Winter migration
routes
Beluga summer
core area
NUN.
Hudson
Bay
QUE.
Churchill
MAN.
CANADA
200 km
ONT.
john sopinSKI/THE GLobe and maIL, source: openstreetmap;
oceansnorth.org; wwf.ca
Hudson
Bay
Seal River
Churchill
Churchill River
Churchill
River
Whales can
swim as far
as Mosquito
Point
MANITOBA
The Weir
Port Nelson
Nelson River
50 km
Winter migration
routes
Beluga summer
core area
NUN.
Hudson
Bay
QUE.
Churchill
MAN.
CANADA
200 km
ONT.
john sopinSKI/THE GLobe and maIL, source: openstreetmap;
oceansnorth.org; wwf.ca
Hudson
Bay
Seal River
Churchill River
Churchill
Churchill
River
Whales can
swim as far
as Mosquito
Point
Beluga whale
Delphinapterus leucas
Adult weight:
Up to 1,900 kg
Adult length:
Up to 4.5 m
The Weir
MANITOBA
Port Nelson
Nelson River
50 km
Winter migration
routes
Beluga summer
core area
NUN.
Hudson
Bay
QUE.
Churchill
MAN.
CANADA
200 km
ONT.
john sopinSKI/THE GLobe and maIL, source: openstreetmap; oceansnorth.org; wwf.ca
When belugas come to Hudson Bay, the water fills with the high-pitched songs and whistles they use to communicate, and the clicks they use for echolocation. Take a listen.
The Globe and Mail
The Churchill belugas in particular are known for their curiosity and for interacting with humans, frequently hobnobbing with those who venture out to see them in inflatable tour boats or kayaks.
Such behaviour is unheard of in other locations where belugas share space with humans, including the St. Lawrence River estuary, where the number of whales has plummeted to less than a thousand.
For scientists, observing the whales’ behaviour in and around the Churchill River is more representative of what a thriving beluga population is like, and may provide important information about the species’ long-term viability.
“It’s unusual and incredible to have such a large gathering of animals in one space,” said Kristin Westdal, a marine mammal expert and science director for the conservation organization Oceans North. “It’s the largest summering population in the world.”
But interest in the belugas is hardly limited to marine biologists. Which is why Ms. Ballman is here with the Delphi, a 19-foot aluminum-hulled boat that serves as a floating observation station. I climb aboard and soon we are under way, heading out to where the Churchill River spills into Hudson Bay.
I am the only passenger, but we are far from alone. As she pilots the Delphi, Ms. Ballman fires up the radio and greets her “beluga buddies,” an audience of online whale watchers who have joined the trip to see what’s happening in the estuary today.
The virtual participants who have joined the voyage are able to contribute their observations, thanks to cameras positioned underwater and above the deck of the Delphi. The effort is supported by Polar Bears International, a conservation group, while the livestream is hosted by explore.org, a website that features live views of nature from cameras located around the world.
Fortunately, the earlier threat of bad weather seems to have abated. I scan the estuary toward the opposite bank where polar bears sometimes make an appearance. Today there are no bears, but I can see belugas surfacing in the distance. They appear as brief flashes of white among the waves. Before long, groups of a dozen or more are passing by, often moving straight and swiftly through the water as they chase schools of small fish. For now they seem too preoccupied to take much notice of us.
Ms. Ballman said it’s not unusual to find belugas less engaged with the boat while feeding, but that can change.
“Sometimes they’ll seem to be done eating and then they’ll come over,” she said.
Captain Tera Lynn Ballman uses a tablet to follow the livestream of her 'beluga buddies.'Ivan Semeniuk/The Globe and Mail
Sure enough, as the afternoon proceeds we see more whales, and closer. It becomes easier to tell the difference between social groups. Sometimes it will be a large posse of males all swimming together. At other times, it is females with their calves, which are pale grey in colour, rather than the characteristic white of the adults.
Occasionally one will surface nearby, offering a glimpse of a pale face and a dark shiny eye.
Many of the whales can be distinguished when they get close to the boat, because of unique marks or scratches that make them more identifiable. They can also be heard without any equipment. As they vocalize with high-pitched squeaks under the boat their voices echo through the hull, like a tin-can telephone. Preliminary research suggests these calls can be specific to individuals.
As the Delphi works its way up and down the estuary I estimate at one point that we’ve spotted more than 20 whales in total, then later 100. Eventually, I stop counting.
Things are busy online, too. Participants are using the underwater camera to observe the belugas and snap photos when they get close. Frequently, an entire group will crowd around the camera, as though looking to see what it is. As is common practice among boat operators in the area, the Delphi’s propeller is surrounded by a cage so that belugas are protected from the whirling blades.
As I look down from the deck and watch the activity around the camera, I am reminded of a busy day at a major aquarium – but with roles reversed. Here, we are the exhibits, and the belugas are the spectators.
The data that come from these encounters are being put to scientific use.
Since 2016, Stephen Petersen, director of conservation and research with the Assiniboine Park Conservancy in Winnipeg, has been collecting images from the livestream and using them to identify individuals. More recently, the project includes an AI component, which eliminated video frames that do not contain whales. Then an army of volunteers takes over via the citizen science portal Zooniverse, to help categorize individuals based on appearance.
“You can take a lot of pictures of belugas at the surface and they look alike,” Dr. Petersen said. “But underneath the water, we can see so much more of those animals.”
He said the project has involved more than 27,000 participants and yielded millions of classifications, with each photo likely being classified 10 to 15 times.
The point of this is to build a detailed record of a population and understand the pressures that the whales face. Some show scarring that could relate to encounters with predators, including polar bears and orcas. (Fewer than a hundred are also harvested each year by Indigenous communities along the western shore of Hudson Bay.) Dr. Petersen said he wants to better understand the context and nature of the injuries he sees in the growing photo database.
For Inuit and other circumpolar cultures, belugas are an important source of food – such as the muktuk, or whale skin and blubber that Dania Meeko is holding. Muktuk provides important nutrients like vitamin C, staving off scurvy in a place where fresh fruit is scarce.
Ultimately, the information emerging from these studies is helping to establish a baseline understanding of a relatively healthy population before it faces new threats or disruptions, including the potential for more commercial shipping traffic out of Churchill.
“I think we should be looking at healthy populations a lot sooner than we typically do, so we know what’s normal and we can detect when things go sideways,” Dr. Petersen said.
One way to safeguard the long-term future of the belugas who come to Churchill each year would be the establishment of a national marine conservation area. Such a measure could include restrictions on dumping, drilling and other activities that might threaten the whales. In 2017 the federal government announced it is considering the idea. It has yet to go further, and multiple levels of government will need to buy in for the plan to succeed.
Dr. Westdal said one motivator for her continued research on the belugas is to help move the proposal forward “and also keep shining a light on the fact that this is an important population and we need to protect it while it’s in good shape.”
Back on the estuary, Ms. Ballman is finally ready to call an end to the whale-watching session – and to the season. The belugas will soon be heading north to Hudson Strait, where stronger currents can keep water open through the winter.
“It was a pretty special experience today,” she said, steering for shore, while several belugas swam alongside as though forming an escort. “Normally I’m trying to make the whales a focal point. Today, we really seem to be the object of their attention.”
