On our swim between the islands and Geraldton, we met a humpback whale. She told us of sharks who had followed her and we drove them away. Unless a shark is determined on a meal, our people have always been able to make them obey. It was part of the ocean’s gift, the ability to sing up all the creatures in the water and to sing them away, too.
In thanks, the whale cow told us of the changes she had seen, to ice in the south and the sea bed to the south and the north. She spoke of the humans in boats who still hunted her kind, though these were less now than in the past we all remembered. She described humans in vessels who came to her simply to watch her swim.
We agreed with her that human behaviour seemed very strange, with some hunters and some admirers. We told her that the humans did not know of the changes to the sea bed, though some knew of changes to the ice.
“Perhaps this will mean the end of the humans. It is sad to lose a species, but life is fleeting.” With these parting words, she turned north, heading for warmer waters. She sought a male of her kind, so that she could do her duty. This would be the first year in many that I would not be assisting with the birthing of whale calves in the north. Perhaps next year I would assist in the birth of her calf.
We wished her a safe journey and a strong child.
Her words lingered in my mind as we swam east, toward the mainland. If changing oceans meant the end of humans, what would become of us? There are no males of our kind, which is why we are dependent on humans for our children. Without human males, our people could die out.
I understood in part what drove Vanessa to protect the humans. Without them, even our own people were lost.