01x08 - The Desert Whales

[bunniefuu]

Bahia de Soledad, the Bay of Solitude,

one of the many shallow bays and lagoons

which crenellate the western
coast of Mexico's Baja California.

For nearly 40 million years,

these secret sanctuaries
have been peacefully shared

by the pterodactyl-like pelicans
and huge terrestrial mammals

who long ago in the
evolutionary drama

re-entered the underseas world,

the desert whales.

December 22nd.

We have been tracking and filming
pods of California gray whales

on the final leg of their
southerly migration.

We are especially fascinated
by the pregnant females.

In labor, they roll over presenting
their underbellies upward.

This is to extrude their newborn

toward the surface for their
first breath of life-giving air.

Thirty-five nervous tons
of pregnant gray whale

slaps down one of Calypso's
buzzing chase boats.

It is a close call.

With enormous vertical sweeps
of their 12-foot wide tail flukes,

the 50-foot grays can generate enough
power to attain speeds up to 10 knots.

With a single angry wallop.

Wounded whales have been
known to use their tail flukes

to smash sturdy 20-foot whaling
boats into kindling wood.

And in the old cemeteries
of American seaports,

many a tombstone bears
the laconic inscription,

k*lled while whaling.

Some no doubt,
by the wily and agile gray.

January 4th.

We have called on a
reconnaissance plane

to assist us in locating the scattered
pods of migrating gray whales

with whom we lose contact at night.

Generally in the daylight

they remain close to the surface on
their steady migration southward.

The southerly migration
of the gray whales

begins in the Arctic Ocean
and the Bering Sea.

There in shallow bays

the grays feed and wean their young

during a summer orgy of feeding

on a biological expl*si*n of
plankton and crustaceans.

Then with an eight-month
reserve of oily blubber,

these huge natural tankers
embark upon a journey

unsurpassed by any other
mammal in the natural world.

Five thousand miles to their
ancestral breeding grounds

in the desert lagoons
of Baja California,

the destination of the Calypso.

My son, Philippe Cousteau,
will film our gray whale expedition.

Dr. Ted Walker,

an eminent scientist at the Scripps
Institution of Oceanography,

will assist us in our life
study of the gray whale.

The future of the gray
whale is in grave peril.

Perhaps by learning
more about the grays,

we can help save
him from extinction.

Philippe Cousteau and Dr. Walker

will work from the Polaris III
during much of the expedition.

A shallow draft ship attached
to the Calypso operation,

the Polaris III will be used
largely to follow the whales

into their extremely
shallow breeding lagoons.

Tagging and inshore
tracking operations

will also take place from the Polaris
during the last stages of migration.

Harmless barbs are attached
to the tagging streamers.

Dr. Walker hopes by tagging
some of the grays

to determine if the whales
remain in one breeding area

or wander throughout the 450
miles of the Baja breeding grounds.

Refusing to be deterred from
their split-second timetable,

the powerful grays take evasive
action and pick up speed.

Next in the tracking operation,

an attempt will be made to attach a
luminous tracking buoy to a pod leader.

Dr. Walker seeks to discover if the
grays scatter and sleep at night,

or if the migration
continues uninterrupted.

The first time out, the target grays
sweep sharply around the Zodiac,

fouling the buoy
line in its propeller.

A lookout spots the spout
of another pod leader,

and a second attempt is made
to secure the tracking buoy.

The second attempt fares
no better than the first,

and the determined gray leader
plows ahead toward his destination.

The harmless dart is returned
to Polaris for examination.

Fantastically stiff.

There and here and here.

Undaunted, Canaway
takes his lunch on the run.

Still another large whale leader
has been spotted nearby.

Apparently, word has got around among
the acoustically oriented grays

that our intentions are suspect.

The elusive gray dives.

Canaway throttles back and waits.

Undisturbed, migrating
grays rarely remain under

for more than four minutes at a time.

My God, what a whale.

Canaway times his approach
perfectly with the surfacing gray.

...you got him, you got him!

Driven by an undeniable instinct

and unperturbed by the nominal
drag of the tracking buoy,

the target whale implacably maintains
his homeward-bound course.

He's headed south!

The Zodiac remains alongside
the tracking buoy

to act as a pace boat
for the Polaris to follow.

This is the speed that I've tracked
him with all day long, three knots.

A migrating gray going home

must maintain a relentless day-in and
day-out pace for nearly three months

before he can join with his own kind to
ensure the perpetuation of the species.

Many elements of the
California gray whales

seem to prefer a migration course

which roughly follows the
shallow underwater contours

paralleling the coastline.

Dr. Walker has the rare
scientific opportunity

to personally confirm that
at least one gray whale,

with only a slight
slowing down in speed,

migrates throughout the night.

By dawn, the Polaris has
tracked the indomitable gray

for an overall time of 18 hours.

Now, only a few miles ahead,

the breeding waters of one of the
largest remaining mammals on Earth.

Dr. Walker points out the
prime breeding lagoons

and suggests a long-range plan
to film the activities of the grays

to Captain Cousteau,
who has come aboard the Polaris.

...that it's heading into the waters,

in which we'll have our
best luck photographically,

running all the way down
here to Magdalena Bay.

Within hours, the gray is on the
last lap of his extraordinary journey.

Dead ahead, home.

One of the many tidal lagoons etched
into the dunes of the plain of Magdalena.

And then, for what
might only be interpreted

as an expression of
sheer animal exuberance,

the gray erupted.

A mighty signal to any and all
thereabouts that he has arrived.

The tracking buoy lies
dead in the water.

But the gray is free,
as he should be.

We shall observe,

but keep inviolate,
this ancient sanctuary,

the home of one of the
most majestic creatures

ever to have evolved since life began,

the desert whale.

January 27th.

Today, Philippe will go aloft with
Calypso's observation balloon

to search out procreation
areas of the gray whales.

With luck, he will locate
some of the grays

just outside of the murky
inner lagoons in clear water.

He will then attempt
to observe and film

an act of nature rarely,
if ever seen by man before,

the mating of the desert whales.

Dr. Walker believes the grays

continue to breed in the
lagoons for several reasons.

The shallow waters are temperate
and safe harbors for the young.

And the constant tidal
upswellings of sea nutrients

gives rise to a veritable plasma
of life on which the whales feed.

From his aerial platform,

Philippe Cousteau spots a male gray

aggressively courting an
apparently willing female.

A Calypso cameraman moves
quickly to record on film

the unique mating drama
of the underwater titans.

As our underwater cameraman

silently approaches
the now mating grays,

the female detects his alien presence.

She breaks away from
the male and dives.

The male follows.

Together, they move
off to a deeper privacy.

And then a stroke of incredible luck.

A trio of gray whales.

Two males and a female.

An excited unmindfulness
surface within yards of the Zodiac.

A cameraman slips over
the side without a sound.

He then records what no
man has ever seen before.

The monumental overture of conception

between two leviathans of the deep

while in the presence of a younger
but no less ardent suitor.

Awaiting Phillipe's descent,

I recall the naming of the grays,
the desert whales.

A startled 19th century whaling captain

was the first to spot among the
distant heat waves of the Baja desert

rising whale spouts.

By pure chance,

he had discovered the secret breeding
lagoons of the California grays.

But today, there are no whalers in
these totally protected Mexican waters.

Only divers and scientists
on peaceful missions.

On February 2nd,

Philippe Cousteau and Dr. Walker
set out to film and observe

the interaction between the
mother grays and their young.

Mothers and their newborn calves
normally lead a solitary existence.

Therefore, the mothers must be
approached with great caution.

If alarmed, they can be
extremely dangerous

and have been known to savagely
attack small fishing crafts

which unwittingly drifted between
the mother and her calf.

Little hope is held out

for the success of the underwater
filming of the mother and babies.

Continuous bottom feeding
also added to the cloudiness

of the 30 to 40 feet
plankton haze shallows

that visibility has been
reduced to nearly zero.

For complete silence,
the divers work without air tanks.

Absolute stealth is necessary

to get within camera range
of the mothers and babies.

It is an impossible effort.

We believe the mother grays
detect the divers' proximity

by a natural echo-ranging capability.

When the divers come too close,

the mother whales calmly move
off with their young in tow.

After hundreds of attempts to
outsmart the mother whales,

even my best men are discouraged.

Didn't see a thing.

Pregnant grays apparently
get little, if any sleep,

on their three-month
southerly migration.

They make up for this lack
after the birth of their young.

For an hour or more at a time,

they will lie motionless at
the surface of the lagoon,

their deep sleep only modulated
by their rhythmic breathing.

At these times, they can
be silently approached

within a few feet by a small boat.

The restless and always
hungry baby grays,

like the newborn of many species,

do not seem to appreciate these
lapses in motherly attention.

Too dependent to range afar,

the babies idle away their time

by constantly prodding at
the slumbering mothers

as if they wanted to awaken them

or perhaps to reassure themselves

that the quiet but familiar
hulk is truly home.

Baby whales are born tail first

so that the baby can immediately
rise to the surface to breathe.

A good swimmer at birth,

the baby stays close by his mother's
side until he has been weaned.

To a baby whale, food and safety
are a large body, his mother,

or at times, any other large
object like a ship's hull.

Captain Cousteau has decided
to improve the opportunities

for observing and filming mother
grays feeding their young

by having the auxiliary ship Polaris

move to a more heavily populated
nursery lagoon to the north.

Once there, with cameras at the ready,

the Polaris will position itself to drift
silently with the prevailing breeze

toward nursing mothers.

The nursing of a baby gray whale

begins when the mother
whale rolls on her side

with one of her pectoral flukes
raised vertically in the air.

This is the mother's way

of presenting her milk
paps to her baby.

In this position, the calf can
take the pap into its mouth

while maintaining itself in a normal
surface-breathing position.

When a mother gray has finished feeding
large quantities of milk to her calf,

she quickly turns into
the prevailing tide.

Without engine power,
the Polaris is unsteerable.

The calf moves to snuggle
up to the Polaris hull,

mistaking it for his mother's body.

At that point, the mother makes a
sudden about-face to retrieve her baby

and hurls him away
from the alien hulk.

Following the baby gray's
encounter with Polaris,

I could not help but
reflect on earlier times

when such a passing incident

would have ended in a
radically different way.

Short-sighted greed led to such scenes
of uncontrolled commercial butchering

which started in 1857.

By 1937, there remained no more
than a few dozen of desert whales.

It was only then that the grays
came under official protection,

but with a reservation that
should the species recover,

the whaler could once
again harvest the grays,

but this time on a
highly limited basis.

Perhaps there can be
another kind of life

between man and a great sea mammal

for to touch life is to know of it

and to know of life is to love it.

For there is only one way
to touch, to know,

to truly love a 35-ton whale.

At least once in your life

you must ride with him
in the wide open sea.

Tonight our divers have been working
the clear waters outside the lagoons.

They are catching some
of the pelagic crabs

on which the gray whales
feed when at sea.

At times, the crabs constitute
the bulk of the gray whale diet.

During the day, they gorge
on the crabs near the bottom.

At night, the crabs feed or
spawn near the surface.

And the whale consumes prodigious
numbers of this tiny creature,

one ten millionth his weight.

At what depth do the whales eat them?

Well, they probably take them
all the way to the bottom.

We really don't have any definitive
depth measurements for the gray,

but judging from their distribution,
they certainly don't dive much further.

Because the grays live in a
variety of sea environments,

their diets and methods of
acquiring food must also vary.

Hence, inside the lagoons, they spy hop.

Once thought to be a way
of looking around topside,

the grays actually
scoop from the bottom,

long furrows of silt containing
tiny invertebrates.

Then, literally standing on their tails,

the grays use gravity to force
the food down to their gullets.

Excess water and debris is compressed
out through their baleen filters.

This unique gravity feeding technique

is best observed in detail
by stop-action photography.

The constantly patrolling pelicans

have helped us locate gray whales
when they were feeding on fish.

Therefore, when Serge Foulon spots a
pelican who seems to be in distress,

he sets out on a mission of mercy.

But poor Serge,

even a pelican can take unforgiving
exception to the best of intentions.

Serge's sore head,

where the outraged pelican
has severely rapped him,

his first evidence of
this lesson in life.

On board Calypso,

the pelican gladly
accepts the attentions

it receives from all
of the crew members,

with the exception of one, Serge.

Even in the wild, gratitude is not
always the reward of good deeds.

On February 22nd, Dr. Walker
and radio engineer Leggerio

set out to obtain
hydrophone recordings

of the communication
and echo ranging signals

transmitted by the grays.

It takes perseverance and skill

to pick up the grinding creaks and deep
snapping vocalizations of the grays.

With an instinct born of experience,

the grays will maintain a form of radio
silence if disturbed or threatened.

Those mother and calf
are coming by here now

and you can clearly hear the echo
ranging as they come up on us.

Sound communications between
the mother and baby grays

is vital in the turbid lagoons.

With visual contact impossible,

separation would mean death
to the dependent baby.

It's a mother and a baby

and they're communicating

and the mother is echo ranging
as she goes up the lagoon.

She's completely dark.

The primitive grays often seem
to communicate with more facility

than that sophisticated
species, h*m* sapiens.

February 24th.

Captain Cousteau takes to the air for
a final survey of the desert lagoons.

The time is near for the grays to
begin their northerly migration.

So Cousteau fans out the
Polaris and the crew of Calypso

to take an estimated census
of the desert whales.

Before the whalers
decimated their numbers,

there were about 20,000 gray whales
living off the California coast.

It took more than four
decades of a protection

for the recovery of
the California herd.

The Eastern Pacific gray population
is estimated at 10,000 to 15,000.

Cousteau has also asked the
plane's pilot and the census parties

to keep an eye out for
mother and baby grays

who may have isolated themselves
in extremely shallow areas.

Inexperienced calves have been known
to get fatally stranded on sandbars

when the outrushing tides suddenly
moved out from under them.

At birth, an average baby gray whale is


Three months later,

ready for the first long haul to the
high latitudes of the Arctic Ocean,

a calf may have grown to 19 feet
and weigh up to 4,000 pounds.

The death rate among very
young gray whales is high.

Disease and natural
enemies take their toll.

But life expectancy for adults
is almost half a century.

The largest cause of infant
mortality among the grays

is attributable to a
natural characteristic

common to most wild mammals.

If a baby gray at birth
is abnormal in any way,

the mother will reject it,

and it will be returned
to the continuum of life

in nature's own way.

But today, there is a
new unnatural threat

to the lives of the desert whales.

It is silent, insidious, and lethal.

The k*ller? Pollution.

The worry that I think we have to think
about in preserving the gray whales

is really eliminating
any extra pollution

which would come about from
excessive use of the lagoon by man.

As it is now that the lagoon is used
only by occasional fishermen

and is still pretty much
in its pristine wild state.

Well, you think that pollution,

if it developed here as it developed
in South California, for example,

could wipe out the gray whales?

It could certainly deprive
it of a tremendous amount

of its winter feeding ground.

And since this is the sanctuary
for the mother and baby,

and since the species is a relic species,

a species which by specialization
has a rather limited habitat available,

there are only three or four
lagoons in which it winters,

I think there is a
very real possibility of

certainly reducing the
species to near extinction.

And it's something I
hope that won't happen.

On February 28th,

the reconnaissance
plane reports the sighting

of what appears to be a baby whale

stranded on a sandbar near
the entrance to the lagoon.

Dr. Walker and Philippe
Cousteau investigate.

Based on the number of the wounds

caused by the carnivorous
gulls and sandpipers,

Dr. Walker believes the baby
gray probably became stranded

sometime around midnight.

He's alive.

The faint but unmistakable
signs of life in the baby gray

sends Philippe Cousteau
rushing for help from Calypso.

Out of water, a beached whale rapidly
overheats, causing dehydration.

He may also suffer sunburn.

Seriously weakened, he could easily
drown with the next high tide.

The baby gray responds favorably to the
cooling effects of the 60 degree water.

Concerned but undismayed with
the unprecedented situation,

the Calypso rescue team immediately
begins to gently negotiate

the 3,000 pound baby
gray into a supporting net.

The objective, to maneuver
the baby into the water

where his natural positive buoyancy

will cause him to become nearly
weightless and easier to handle.

The hopes of Dr. Walker and the
men for reviving the baby gray

are heightened by the
fact that since morning,

the day has been overcast.

Perhaps the young whale has not
dehydrated to the point of no return.

They hurry.

The effort of moving the
baby gray is enormous,

but time is critical and the
rescue team presses on.

Once afloat in deeper water,

the baby gray is moved quickly
toward the anchored launch.

There, he will be firmly secured

and then transported slowly
to the waiting Calypso.

As the launch approaches Calypso,

Dr. Walker speculates on why the baby
gray may have become stranded.

Confused by the swift incoming tide,

he may have been carried into waters
too shallow for the mother to follow.

Then when the tide receded,

the mother and the beached baby
were no longer able to communicate.

The mother then moved
off into the vast lagoon

in a wide search for her lost baby.

In spite of the risk of sharks,

Captain Cousteau decides
that the baby gray whale

should remain secured as he is to
the launch throughout the night.

I hoped that his mother,

perhaps looking for him somewhere
out there in the lagoon,

might hear his desperate
cries and return to her baby.

Unfortunately, the mother
of the baby gray whale

did not appear during the night.

It is now imperative that we attend
to the baby the best we can.

He is badly emaciated and
needs attention to his wounds.

Dr. Walker, improvising
from ship's stores,

prepares a substitute for the high
protein milk of the baby's mother.

Dr. Walker believes that
there is a fair to good chance

the baby gray can be saved if he will
accept the unfamiliar nourishment.

Normally, a young whale
requires a minimum of

two or three feedings every 24 hours.

At best, Calypso can serve
as a first aid station.

But if the orphaned whale survives,

I have agreed with Dr. Walker to
take him with us to a marine park.

There, he can receive
more extensive care.

For the first time in Dr. Walker's


observation of marine life,

he is about to take the first step

in becoming a foster parent
to a baby desert whale.

A galley funnel and a
length of rubber hose

is at best a poor imitation
of a mother whale.

But there is no alternative.

Dr. Walker and the crew of Calypso can
only hope that the hungry baby gray

will adapt to the idea that necessity
is the mother of invention.

The jerry-rig nursing apparatus
is partially successful,

but there is no way of determining
how much nourishment

the hungry baby is
actually ingesting.

Dr. Walker decides to take
a more practical step.

For although squid is not known to be
a normal part of the gray whale diet,

it is high in protein content.

And if the baby is to live, it must eat,
even if it means feeding him by hand.

The strongest bond between
man and sea mammals is food.

Our baby whale proves to
be no exception to this rule.

He hangs on to his benefactor's
hand for dear life.

Philippe Cousteau inspects
a special sea harness,

which Maurice is rushing to completion.

It will be used to provide the baby gray
with more freedom while he recuperates.

In the meantime,

the baby gray is gently hoisted
to the afterdeck of Calypso.

There he will be carefully
examined by Dr. Walker

and his wounds treated
against infection.

The heart of a whale is so effectively
insulated by fatty tissues

that the stethoscope
from our ship's pharmacy

proves of little value to Dr. Walker.

Next, Dr. Walker examines
the wounds of the baby gray

to determine an effective medication.

Many lacerations have been embroidered
by shorebirds along the sensitive lips

shielding the glistening
baleen strainers.

Then, by observing the
whale's nostrils, or blowhole,

Dr. Walker determines
his respiratory rate.

Finally, an antibiotic mixed
with a water-repellent base

is applied to the baby gray's
more serious wounds.

All ??? speed is now necessary.

Out of water, a whale's own weight

pressing down on his internal organs
for an excessive time can be damaging.

As the baby whale entered the water,

I wondered how effective our
administrations would be.

While he appeared
somewhat revitalized,

I could see that he was having
difficulty maintaining his equilibrium

against even the
slight flow of the tide.

As we watched our young friend
reach for life in his own way,

I knew that we had done
all we could for him.

Now as our long night's
vigil was about to begin,

we could only trust in nature for
whatever would come tomorrow.

Shortly before 3 a.m.,

the shark watch standing shotgun
over the baby gray is changed.

Up to this moment, all has been well.

At 3 o'clock, I was awake by Canoë,

and I went on the quarterdeck
to see the baby whale,

and I was surprised to see he was
breathing with some difficulty.

He was on his back,
trying to survive.

I awaked Ted Walker, and we saw
that there was nothing to do.

After some minutes,
the baby whale stopped breathing.

Yes.
There was nothing else we could do.

I don't think so.
It was a hopeless situation.

Only the pelicans came,
flying by in ancient salute.

On the afternoon of March 2nd,

for the first time in the
long journey of Calypso,

we bid an old goodbye
to a very young friend.

The time has come.

The migration north begins.

The old grays who know
the way move out first.

And the great herd follows.

Destination, the Arctic Ocean,


The desert whales are on their way.

Even the very young,
the lucky ones who made it,

charge ahead with a lively pace

in this unmatched journey
of the undersea's world.

The desert whales are gone.

But they will be back.

And here they will begin
their great life's adventure

for all the years to come.

If man will always keep this sanctuary

the way it was when he first named it

the Bay of Solitude.