Whales and Us: Our Shared Journey
Whales and Us: Our Shared Journey
Toothed cetaceans, like beluga whales and dolphins, make different types of sounds. They use a series of whistles and clicks for communication and echolocation. Some scientists are doing research to interpret these sounds in the hope that humans and whales will be able to communicate one day. But others are critical of this research. They think that we should not be using a human frame of reference to try to make sense of whale sounds.
To understand how whales communicate, we should not analyze their language by trying to translate it and make it fit into the way humans see the world. Instead we should try to understand their language based on how it fits into their own world.
This information picture book takes a fresh approach. Rather than try to cover all aspects of whale life--the author admits to not being a scientist or whale expert—she has chosen to show the species through the lens of human interactions with them, in both story and fact. This premise is established in a poignant introduction that should make the reader sit up and take notice: “I used to come here and see the whales when I was little and there were dozens of them…now I feel lucky if I get to see just one whale’s back cresting the waves in the distance.” The watercolor illustration of a child staring out to an empty sea reinforces the message. It’s a visual invitation to read on, to learn about whale behaviour, communication, effects of human contact and why whales have an uncertain future.
Brief definitions of the whale groups—baleen and toothed—provide the basis needed to understand anecdotes and legends which are probed for elements of truth. In the first, a fisherman rescues a beluga entangled in nets, and the whale nods its head as if in thanks. It establishes that whales need to breathe air, why they might swim close to shore, and that belugas can move their heads in more ways than other species. The story has engaged us, and we’ve learned new whale facts at the same time. Another story describes the myth of a siren’s song. Could it have been inspired by whale sounds, which the author examines as tools for communication and echolocation? Are sperm whales, such as the fictitious Moby Dick, dangerous (but we learn attacks are rare)? Can whales swallow humans whole as in a Disney film, Pinocchio (but their stomachs aren’t that big)? Gradually a true picture of the whale emerges—majestic, mysterious, complex, fragile and deserving of our respect.
The whaling industry, a large part of the history of cetacean/human interaction, is now “banned almost everywhere”. Today, whale tourism offers a way to find and observe them, but it should be considered “a privilege” and needs regulations to protect whales from people’s high expectations. Taking pictures seems all-important; fascination with whales even leads crowds to gather when they beach near populated places. The book links some reasons for these stranding incidents with similar dangers on migration journeys, such as “noise caused by maritime traffic.” Is whale breaching—behavior whale watchers love to see—a way to communicate if underwater noise is too loud? A page listing “What Can We Do” to mitigate threats to whales reinforces points throughout the book: reducing maritime traffic (will “buying local” help?), regulating fishing practices, limiting use of plastic and water consumption (and so, wastewater pollution), advocating for increased research funding, choosing only well-regulated whale tourism. A comparison of anecdotes about lost whales points to our changing attitudes: in 1901, a whale far from its natural habitat was hunted; in 2020, people hoped it would find its way to safety.
The perfect choice for an over-sized subject is this slightly over-sized picture book (9 in x 12 in) with soft, inviting watercolor illustrations. Often only a portion of a whale makes it onto the page, a clever way to stress size. Moby Dick’s pale head occupies one corner of the page amid green-gray storm-tossed seas: a ghostly, alarming image to the whalers on their ship. There’s good use of double spreads, e.g. a dramatic illustration of a siren (cheekily perched on a whale’s back) luring sailors to their peril, and an explanation of breaching as a whale demonstrates the behavior across both pages.
The “Resources” list on the last page has brief explanations of the roles of organizations cited. There’s no need for a glossary, since new terms are adequately defined in context.
Whales and Us: Our Shared Journey is a fairly slim book. Does that hint of how much we don’t yet know about whales? The book fulfills its goal of linking us with the history and future of whales. It is a translation of Les baleines et nous (2021), making this fascinating look at these huge creatures accessible in both languages.
Gillian Richardson is a freelance writer living in British Columbia.