San Ignacio Lagoon & the Pacific Ocean
The gates were open again today. Those of us who got happily wet may have wished that they were open a little wider, but we were able once again to crash through the churning waters and shifting sands that protect the entrance to San Ignacio Lagoon, a huge nursery for the California gray whale. Over the centuries this relatively primitive marine mammal has found Baja’s shallow, warm, tidal lagoons ideal for winter breeding and for bolstering newborns. The entrances, or bocas, are shifting and shallow, and are often pounded by the Pacific surf. But if the whales can pass through, so can our sturdy Zodiacs.
Like yesterday, a few of the 45-foot mothers and their growing calves approached our boats, nudging, lifting and obviously seeking tactile contact. We wondered why they do this. Perhaps it is simply playful curiosity as they explore their wet world. Puppies are curious; why not whales?
The mothers and calves, the latter growing by as much as 50 to 70 pounds per day, will soon leave the lagoons. The mothers have devoted much of their stored energy (in the form of blubber) to producing the calf and nurturing it with fat-rich milk. She will continue to nurse for about seven months, even while she is feeding on minute amphipods and other small life forms that live in the bottom sediments of the cold, northern seas. The annual migration to and from the feeding grounds may exceed 12,000 miles, but like us, they are determined to pass through the gates and seek the solitude and safety of the lagoons.
And they do find safety there. For some inexplicable reason, the marine mammals that most want to prey on gray whale calves shy away from the bocas. Killer whales certainly could pass through, but seem content to remain outside, perhaps waiting for the return migration to begin. The bonded pairs may face the challenge of the ocean’s largest predator. We hope they will meet that challenge. Perhaps the touch that we applied will help.
A gentle roll at our stern took us south all afternoon and through the night. Distant whales blew. Seabirds sheared and soared over the water. Long-beaked common dolphins gained a free ride on our bow wave and surfed on our stern waves. A glowing example of the intricate food web of this ocean brought us to a stop. Pursued from below by dolphins and predatory fish, masses of schooling sardines or herring flashed to the surface. From above came plunging pelicans and terns. Gull skimmed the surface. Jaegers were up to their kleptoparasitic ways.
So much life. So little time to see it.
The gates were open again today. Those of us who got happily wet may have wished that they were open a little wider, but we were able once again to crash through the churning waters and shifting sands that protect the entrance to San Ignacio Lagoon, a huge nursery for the California gray whale. Over the centuries this relatively primitive marine mammal has found Baja’s shallow, warm, tidal lagoons ideal for winter breeding and for bolstering newborns. The entrances, or bocas, are shifting and shallow, and are often pounded by the Pacific surf. But if the whales can pass through, so can our sturdy Zodiacs.
Like yesterday, a few of the 45-foot mothers and their growing calves approached our boats, nudging, lifting and obviously seeking tactile contact. We wondered why they do this. Perhaps it is simply playful curiosity as they explore their wet world. Puppies are curious; why not whales?
The mothers and calves, the latter growing by as much as 50 to 70 pounds per day, will soon leave the lagoons. The mothers have devoted much of their stored energy (in the form of blubber) to producing the calf and nurturing it with fat-rich milk. She will continue to nurse for about seven months, even while she is feeding on minute amphipods and other small life forms that live in the bottom sediments of the cold, northern seas. The annual migration to and from the feeding grounds may exceed 12,000 miles, but like us, they are determined to pass through the gates and seek the solitude and safety of the lagoons.
And they do find safety there. For some inexplicable reason, the marine mammals that most want to prey on gray whale calves shy away from the bocas. Killer whales certainly could pass through, but seem content to remain outside, perhaps waiting for the return migration to begin. The bonded pairs may face the challenge of the ocean’s largest predator. We hope they will meet that challenge. Perhaps the touch that we applied will help.
A gentle roll at our stern took us south all afternoon and through the night. Distant whales blew. Seabirds sheared and soared over the water. Long-beaked common dolphins gained a free ride on our bow wave and surfed on our stern waves. A glowing example of the intricate food web of this ocean brought us to a stop. Pursued from below by dolphins and predatory fish, masses of schooling sardines or herring flashed to the surface. From above came plunging pelicans and terns. Gull skimmed the surface. Jaegers were up to their kleptoparasitic ways.
So much life. So little time to see it.
