One of the real plusses of interpretation is that many of us work and live in some wonderful places. While you can’t eat scenery, it certainly does nourish the soul and that has to be part of the paycheck for quite a few interpreters. And when you can share that magnificent locale with some engaging wildlife—so much the better.
It has been a real blessing in my life to be able to live and work on the edge of Monterey Bay for the past 23 years. No two days are ever the same on the bay, with an endless variety of birds, marine mammals and other creatures parading past the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Still, there are patterns in the seasonal occurrence of some wildlife, and you start to look for particular species at specific times.
January is the traditional peak of the gray whale migration past Monterey Bay. Most of those animals are moving in a line just a few hundred yards of the coast we often call the “whale highway” and they tend to cut across the mouth of Monterey Bay. However, a few of them take a scenic detour, hugging the edge of the bay, sometimes just beyond the surf line. These might be juveniles that are still learning the migration route, or seasoned veterans using the pounding surf and kelp beds to escape detection from marauding orca in the bay. Whatever the cause, I’m always on the lookout for those wandering gray whales exploring the shoreline in our part of the bay.
It must have been quite a sight when the Spanish first settled in this area, with a bay full of whales. Often, the carcasses of expired whales could be found on local beaches. California condors and grizzly bears cruised our beaches regularly, scavenging whale carcasses. In fact the holotype specimen of the California condor was collected at Pt. Pinos in Pacific Grove as the unfortunate specimen was searching the local beaches. Back then a beachcast whale carcass meant lunch for quite a few local critters. After reading those early accounts, I started thinking that it might be fun to have lunch with whales—especially if I don’t have to share with grizzlies.
It just so happens that the Aquarium’s restaurant, the Portola Café, has a commanding view of the bay. So my goal is to “have lunch with the whales” as often as possible, and I’m successful in finding a gray whale or two on over half my lunch breaks in late January. I had a special bonus this week with a thunderstorm moving over the bay while I was looking for my lunchtime whale. The sun had come out over one part of the bay, creating a rainbow against the shore—and up came my lunchtime whale! I had the mini-rainbow of the sunlight hitting the whale’s blow, against the larger rainbow from the passing thundershower.
As an interpreter, I just can’t keep those special wildlife moments to myself. I feel compelled to jump up and walk through the restaurant, pointing and shouting “Whale ho!” Fortunately, most of the diners are happy to have whales for lunch as well, so it’s a welcome intrusion.
With all the changes going on in the arctic feeding grounds for our gray whales, I’m growing a bit concerned about their long-term well being. Warming arctic waters are altering both the food supply and the timing of whale feeding and migration. So far the effects seem to be minor, but we’re watching carefully. I would certainly miss having lunch with the whales.
-Jim Covel
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