Whale Watching And "the Flipper Effect”

By Adam Hamilton

"Look, Mommy! It's Flipper!” I rolled my eyes and frowned at the excitable child, becoming increasingly irritated with the little kids who had no problem with the gently rocking waves. Soon, owner and operator Ivan Reiff's instructive voice came over the PA system of his 46-foot whale watching vessel, Western Prince, to clarify the kid's anxious cries.

"And at about ten or eleven o'clock, you can see a few harbor seals sun bathing on some rocks.”

As 29 passengers hurried over to the port side of the vessel, the extra tipping did little for my sense of balance, or my nausea. Nevertheless, Western Prince naturalist John "JB” Boyd pleasantly chimed in to explain the captain's sighting. "Just over there, where the water breaks those gray rocks, you can see some driftwood, quite common for high tide.” Then he smiled, "Unless, of course, that driftwood is actually harbor seals trying to soak up some sun. These waters are about 48 degrees, and even seals with their thick layers of blubber need to spend several hours out of the frigid water to keep from getting too cold. Of course, we would only last about 10 minutes in the Salish right now.”

Cameras were soon clicking and flashing all over the place. However, whales were what most of us wanted to see, and with two or three hours left in the voyage, hopes were still high.

Whale watching has grown from a casual pastime into a multi-million dollar subset of the Pacific Northwest's tourist industry over the past twenty-five years. However, Southern Resident killer whales (SRKWs), the main focus of the tourist attention, are a species of considerable conservation concern. These orcas habitually summer in the Salish Sea and Puget Sound areas from June to September, creating a business peak for the industry, but they are currently listed as "depleted” under the Marine Mammal Protection Act (MMPA) and "endangered” under the Endangered Species Act (ESA). Because of these issues, marine scientists are currently trying to understand which factors contribute to their recent decline, and find out what role the whale watching industry may play in their fragile ecosystem.

Marine life has long been influenced by human observation, a dynamic aptly called "the Flipper Effect” by marine social scientists, where media sensations draw public attention to the aquatic world. Although there is nothing necessarily wrong with movies such as Flipper (1963) and Free Willy (1993), undue media attention may prompt businesses to take action which may (or may not) be detrimental to marine life. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, unchecked live capture of 34 orcas from the Puget Sound and Salish Sea for fisheries and marine parks resulted in an all-time low of only 71 individuals in the local population of SRKWs in 1973.

Since then, the population had been at a fairly steady recovery to 99 individuals in 1995, until unknown factors contributed to a loss of twenty orcas in only six years and their "endangered” designation by the ESA in 2005. Marine scientists of various disciplines, including physiology, biology, and toxicology, have pooled their resources to come to an understanding of what influences are affecting the whales negatively, and what we as a human dimension can do to help them.

"It's probably a multi-faceted reason for their decline,” says Dawn Noren, a physiologist at Northwest Fisheries Science Center (NWFSC), one agency of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association (NOAA). According to Noren, contamination, limited prey sources, and vessel interference are all contributing factors in the precarious ecological status of the whales.

Man-made toxins in the water are a major issue in the Puget Sound for all marine life, and because SRKWs are at the top of the food chain, their health is indicative of the entire ecosystem. Although some harsh chemicals used in agriculture have been banned since the early 1970s, Noren explains that "they're still circulating through the food web in the water.” Because many anthropogenic toxins are fat-soluble, "marine mammals store their contaminants in their blubber,” and can stay presumably healthy for a long time, because their bodies aren't processing the dangerous compounds.

However, certain situations require marine mammals to use their fat stores and they can become very ill. When the prey source is low, Noren explains, orcas begin their fasting physiology and "start taking energy from their fat stores, and it could release contaminants into circulation.” When marine mammals are suckling, "Same thing,” she says. "Moms who are suckling calves have to make milk, and they get the fat stores from their blubber. So then they could increase the circulation of the contaminants in their blood while they're using the fat.” According to the National Marine Fisheries Service's (NMFS) Proposed Conservation Plan for Orcinus Orca, a provision mandated by the MMPA for any species designated as depleted, "in female whales, contaminant burdens . . . decrease during the reproductive years as a result of contaminant transfer to calves during gestation and lactation.” Because gestation is one of the only ways for whales to rid themselves of the toxins, males have a much harder time because they continue to accumulate contaminants throughout their lifetime. Not only is the danger of contaminants a lingering issue from a careless past, but the effect of toxins yesterday continues to influence the future.

Though I hadn't yet acquired my sea legs, I wobbled into the main cabin and up to Ivan Reiff, currently piloting the vessel at a cool five knots and staring intently out at the Salish Sea, eyes scanning for dorsals. He seemed focused, but I interrupted him anyway with a question about Western Prince and their use of biodiesel, an alternative to regular diesel with emissions which are significantly less damaging to the environment. "We're one of the first,” he said, eyes to the sea. "It's the same price now, [but] it was a lot more expensive when we started, about 25 cents more a gallon. This is our fourth year doing it. I started it right when I bought the business.” I was impressed, considering the additional expense when he made the commitment to buy the company from the original owners. Why the change? "I just feel, with what I do, that I need to reduce any impact that I may have on the environment. And I have received a lot of good feedback from customers that appreciate that.” Though one of the forerunners along with Deer Harbor Charters off of Orcas Island, several other companies have followed suit, and taken advantage of this important way to reduce damage to the ecosystem.

Although they are reducing contaminant emissions, the presence of the vessels themselves may be a serious problem for marine life. Between Seattle, Vancouver, B.C., and other major port cities in the region, the greater Puget Sound waterway is perpetually flooded with commercial vessel traffic. The noise generated by these vessels can temporarily or permanently damage the whales' hearing and echolocation systems, making it difficult for these social creatures to communicate and possibly disrupt their ability to forage.

While regular boat traffic is consistent and predictable in the Sound, the pursuit of orcas by whale watching vessels nine to twelve hours a day, four months out of the year, may be significantly disruptive. However, the whale watching industry has taken positive steps over the past years to reduce their affect on this majestic marine resource.

After giving me sea bands and hot ginger tea for the nausea, naturalist JB and I sat down for a discussion about Western Prince and its influence on the marine ecosystem. "As a larger boat as opposed to six-packs,” referring to what those in the industry call the small boats, which only hold six people and the naturalist/operator, "[Western Prince] is less impact, sound-wise underwater. Most of the six-pack boats are what we call outboard motor boats, which tend to run at higher frequency RPMs, whereas we're diesel, so we're a lot quieter underwater, and a lower sonic impact.” Vessel design is one particular way to reduce effects on whales, but the entire whale watching community has made active steps to regulate their influence on marine life.

The Whale Watch Operators Association Northwest (WWOANW) was formed in 1992 to provide a network of communication for owners of whale and wildlife observation companies in the burgeoning industry. Soon after, they began to self-regulate with the "Be Whale Wise” Guidelines, a set of whale-conscious rules for private and commercial whale watching vessels to observe when following whales or other marine life. "We don't approach closer than a hundred yards to the whales. When we're in front or behind them, we don't get closer than 400 yards . . .[and] when we're within half a mile of whales we reduce our speed to seven knots. At seven knots we're at or below the ambient noise levels already out here in the water,” so their engines can have a minimal influence on the whales' acoustic systems. However, when marine life approach the boats, the engines should be turned off completely. "Sometimes,” JB smiled, his eyes crinkling, "no matter what we do they want to come see us. I think they're whale watcher watching.”

While Western Prince and nearly all the vessels in the whale watching industry adhere to the "Be Whale Wise” Guidelines, they set no precedent in the broader marine and tourist communities because they are locally initiated and don't stimulate government sanction. A NWFSC social scientist Suzanne Russell explains, "Some people argue, that because they're not regulations, they're not enforceable. As a result, there is less incentive to adhere to them. Some say regulations would bear a more severe consequence for non-compliance, and therefore be a more effective tool.” Although the MMPA and ESA do state that "pursuit”, "harassment” and "take” of marine mammals is a federal crime, these terms are vague without additional specifications, and often little or nothing is enforced until private boaters go too far. According to Russell, San Juan County recently passed an ordinance to protect the whales.

Feeling a bit better about the waves, and the industry, I put my digital voice recorder aside and snapped a few photos of lazy seals and speedy porpoises, but after the animals dispersed and Ivan gunned the engines for Friday Harbor, I knew we wouldn't be seeing any whales on this trip. I turned again to JB, because I had read that summer was peak whale watching time. I learned then, that while "May is an eighty percent chance of seeing whales, and June is ninety percent, it takes a dive in July and August.” I had no idea. But when is the best time to sea whales? "I love September. The humpbacks are in, the killer whales are in, and the Minke whales are in. There's a lot of whales around in September, and the crowds aren't as big.” That's precious whale watching information, and I'm already marking my calendar for when I'm going to head back out there.

Although a little discouraged about not seeing some of nature's most marvelous beasts, I stepped off the boat having learned a lot about the wildlife in the Salish Sea and northern Puget Sound. As Russell points out, "I've been told most people don't come to see wildlife, they come to see whales, [so] a lot of people in the industry feel they have to use the whales in their logos and in their advertising to draw people in to see wildlife.” That may be true, considering "the Flipper Effect” and the media emphasis on orcas. Because of this, other creatures just as marvelous and intriguing don't get emphasized. In her research, Russell concludes that although tourists "might not see whales, they might see wildlife and have a great time anyway.” I can testify that I sure did, and not only that, but I learned a lot, too. Whether I saw whales or not, I know for certain that I participated in something that changed my perspective of the Pacific Northwest, and I have a new appreciate for the environment

When I asked Ivan about why he chose to dedicate his life to the whale watching industry, he said that those feelings of appreciation may well be the point. "You know, the hope is that we're educating people, and by educating people we're protecting the animals that we're viewing. By endearing people to the animals . . . and the environment, hopefully that will protect the area that we're involved in.” And that is really the upshot of this whole journey: to recognize that we are involved with these animals, and are members of their ecosystem as much as they are. If we educate ourselves about our own involvement and contribution to this ecosystem, then we can better appreciate nature's marvelous creatures, and take steps to conserve them and ensure that they see the future.

Adam Hamilton is an English and philosophy double major at the University of Washington.

Images:

Top: An adult southern resident breeching near the coast of the San Juan Islands, apparently showing off for the whale watchers.

Bottom: An adult orca spy-hopping, a maneuver which permits the whales a longer look at their surroundings above the water.