If my second week in Tonga this season was busy, my third one was as hectic as rush hour at Tokyo Station, both in the water and on land.

In the water, I finally(!) got to see a heat run this season, an experience that was punctuated by the an unusual sound from one of the five whales involved; our ID-ed calf count grew to 12 from six; one of the calfs we met was perhaps the most active one I’ve ever seen; I managed to get a couple spending their honeymoon with us into the water with a singer for a honeymoon serenade; and besides whales, Takaji and I managed to see and photograph a tiger shark, sailfish and barracuda in the water.

On land, we had 18 people here at one point, making even the simplest of tasks a logistical challenge. Among those are the first group of six lucky(?) people to join me on my inaugural non-Japanese group…two from Singapore, two from the US and two from France.

In short…I’m utterly pooped (so please excuse any incoherencies below).

Listen to the Music
Since writing about the heat run, I haven’t seen any more. I think by now, it’s safe to say that heat runs are relatively scarce this year, at least in comparison to the past two years. In 2007 and 2008, I don’t think a week went by when we didn’t see at least one major heat run, often several. In seasons leading up to those two years, I had certainly seen heat runs, but not the same quantity, and not of the same intensity.

Several researchers from both the northern and southern hemispheres have been kind enough to listen to and provide feedback about the recording of the strange sound that we heard during the heat run. The consensus view is that the sound is a form of social sound made by humpbacks in non-singing situations.

The term “social sound” of course is somewhat nebulous, encompassing all sounds besides the standard song that humpbacks use. My lay person’s interpretation is that humpbacks use sound to communicate in many ways that we’re not aware of yet, i.e., that they talk to one another.

Perhaps I’m just more attuned to the sounds now, or perhaps it’s a relatively vocal year, but I’ve been hearing lots of chatter in the water among whales this season…certainly more than I’ve picked up on before.

First, there’s tonnes of singing. Dive down 10 metres or more in just about any location, and you’ll hear at least one singer, often what seems like several. In addition, I’ve heard calfs, escorts and paired whales making all sorts of sounds this season.

In any case, sound opens up an entirely new area of interest for me, so I’ve already started bugging my friend David at Scubacam about putting together some sort of small portable hydrophone I can strap to myself to record while I’m interacting with cetaceans. (Poor David)

Counting Calfs
Last season, we ID-ed 16 calfs in six weeks, two of which we spotted at nearby Toku Island. Taking those out of the count for the moment, it means we had 14 calfs in six weeks here in Vava’u.

At the end of three weeks in Vava’u this year, our count is 12 ID-ed calfs. Of course, there’s an element of chance involved in our ability to find and ID calfs, but we’ve been doing this for several years, so our methodology is stable and consistent.

What does this mean? It’s a bumper crop of baby whales this year.

During the past two seasons, when there were heaps of heat runs going on, there were relatively few babies…at least compared to the informal baseline we had in our heads from the 2004 and 2005 season (when we first started trying to count and ID calfs).

At the time, I speculated that the increase in heat runs would translate into an increase in babies in upcoming years. My reasoning was that since heat runs take place to determine which male gets mating rights with a given female, a large number of heat runs meant a surplus of mating-ready females. Taking into account the gestation period required (11-12 months), I figured we’d see a bump up in baby numbers soon.

The number of calfs we’ve seen and ID-ed this year seems to bear this out, though obviously, there could be other factors involved. For instance, I’ve heard anecdotally that there are relatively few whales at the nearby Ha’apai group of islands this season. It’s possible that the whales just decided to concentrate their babies around Vava’u for 2009, and stay away from other island groups.

I can’t know for certain, but in any case, it’s good to see so many babies about. It’s great for the people who are here to swim with whales, and if the higher numbers of babies translate into a growing healthy adult whale population in future years…it can’t be a bad thing.

Conversely, with a high proportion of females having calfs this year, there are perhaps fewer unattached females about, accounting for the relatively few heat runs.

If we have another solid season next year, followed by a flattening in the number of babies, and then a relatively high frequency of heat runs thereafter, it’ll fit with my working theory. Of course, life is never quite so simple, so I fully expect to be thrown a few curve balls by the whales. We’ll see what happens.

In any case, by the end of this season, we should have a concrete list demonstrating a bumper crop of calfs. Hopefully, this will help put to rest some of the unsubstantiated negative sentiments I’ve heard in recent years saying that the humpback population here is plummeting because of…(fill in your pessimistic doom-and-gloom reason of choice).

Our list of new calfs this week:
7. White Patch – distinct white patches on both sides of the calf’s body
8. Blackberry – mom almost entirely black, dorsal fin has a distinct lopped-off appearance
9. Sneakers – sneaky, difficult to spot
10. Genki – breached from 08:30 to 14:00 non-stop, often completely airborne
11. Hachi – also did airborne breaches, had a habit of being left behind by mom and escort
12. Ziggy – mom almost all black like Blackberry’s mom, with mom and baby swimming in zig-zag pattern

One of the funniest calf stories this week involved White Patch. We found White Patch in the Hunga Channel, with mom and a really laid-back escort. On one particular rest stop for the whales, White Patch came up from depth, where she (the calf is female) had been resting under her mother. After coming up for a few breaths and checking us out, she swam back down again to rest. This is a typical pattern of behaviour.

The one twist, however, is that White Patch swam to the escort instead of her mother, and nuzzled up against the escort’s belly. I’m not sure what the escort thought (escorts are males), but he didn’t move a muscle. Soon thereafter, mom must’ve noticed. She started to surface…and seeing White Patch under the wrong whale, she made several emphatic gestures (tail swishes and pectoral fins waves)…after which the calf hurried over in frantic lost-calf style and joined her mom. If I had to guess, I’d translate from whale-speak to human-speak as something along the lines of: “Get over here…RIGHT NOW!”

We’ve seen this happen once before, last year with a mom, calf and escort in North Bay. I can’t recall which specific calf is was offhand, but it was equally entertaining.

Swimmers
It’s not only the whales that have been keeping me busy and laughing.

Many of the people who visit Tonga with us have been doing so for several years, so they’re “veterans”, so to speak. They’ve progressed from the initial excitement of just seeing a whale fluke, to being able to discern more subtle behaviour and wanting to see relatively unusual things.

This past week, however, we had six people from Japan who were here for the first time, as well as my first-ever group of six people from outside Japan…so twelve whale newbies in total.

On the one hand, this poses a big challenge, since we obviously want all of them to have a great time and say positive things about whales in general, and the humpbacks of Tonga in particular…but also, it’s fulfilling…because the reactions are so strong, expressive and joyful.

Two of the people here this week were a nice young couple on their honeymoon (actually the third honeymoon couple we’ve had). Besides helping them to see whales, I was able to find a singer and get them right above to listen to the haunting melody and booming bass below. We threw a mini-party for them too…and sent them back home with what I hope are unforgettable, positive memories.

And lastly, one of the people in the non-Japanese group squealed (yes, squealed) when I showed her two large males sitting right below us. Visibility was limited and the whales were counter-shaded, so they were extremely difficult to spot. Even as I pointed directly to them, it took several minutes for her to be able to make them out.

When she finally saw the outline of one of the whale’s fluke and body sitting just below us, she squealed in a manner which I can only describe as reminiscent of a giggly little schoolgirl. I teased her about it (how could I not?), but it’s reactions like this that make the hard work worthwhile.

Other Stuff
The waters here are full of life. If you recall, I saw a tiger shark and some other sharks associated with the injured whale a couple of weeks ago.

This week, Takaji was approached by another tiger which wasn’t as shy as the one that approached me, and he managed to get a couple of photos. To hear him relate the story, he basically stuck the camera out in front as protection and snapped the shutter on instinct. I commented that a real photographer would’ve gotten an image with the shark’s mouth open.

On the same day, a couple of sailfish buzzed him and he got beautiful images of them with sails fully extended.

By comparison, my non-whale encounter this week was much less adrenaline-charged. On one swim, a large barracuda shot up at high speed from depth and charged me…perhaps mistaking the surface activity for a baitball or something similar. Once it got close enough for a good look, it veered away, then came back, almost as if thinking: “Hang on a second…you sound like a meal, but you don’t look like a meal. What’s going on?”

I know I can confuse humans, but it’s the first time I recall perplexing a predatory piscine.

That’s it for now.

Shortly after posting the summary of my second week in Tonga (at the end of which I whined about not seeing any heat runs), I finally got to see a heat run!

We came across five whales in a high-speed chase, with two others on the periphery. They were swimming really(!) fast and diving deep a lot, so all we could do was follow for a while.

When they came up, it was the typical pandemonium…massive snorts, crocodile posturing, a few tail slashes, bubble blowing…the works. Did I mention I love heat runs?

At a few junctures, they slowed down just enough for us to hop in to take a look. Sometimes, whales in a heat run slow the pace a bit so that you can just keep up and watch the action, but these five obviously had somewhere to be. If anything, they sped up, giving us only a few seconds to see them as they buzzed past.

On our final drop, as the five whales passed by, one emitted a shrill, piercing, high-pitched sound, which one of the people with me captured on his video camera. Here’s the sound:

I’ve spent dozens of hours in the water with humpbacks, but this is the first time I’ve heard this particular sound. Puzzled, I consulted a few friends, and again, Dr Adam Pack came to the rescue, lifting the veil of ignorance from my eyes.

According to Adam, humpbacks often make what’s referred to as “social sounds” when they’re in competitive groups…screams, trills, barks, etc. After listening to the audio, Adam pegged this as a trill sound.

There apparently are some researchers working on understanding these types of sounds (i.e., non-song sounds that humpback whales make), since there’s not much known about what they mean or how they’re used.

Thinking back on the past two weeks, it’s been a particularly vocal year so far. I’ve heard singers of course, which seem to be rendering a particularly staccato song this season, but also, I’ve heard calfs squeeking, gurgling and making baby-like noises (I’ve heard these often in the past); I’ve heard one of the two whales in the male-female pair last week making soothing, cooing noises (I’m assuming it was the male vocalising, but I don’t know for sure); I’ve heard one of the whales associated with Speedy (the second ID-ed calf of this season) making gentle, melodic sounds as they trio passed by (I’m assuming it was the escort, but again, I have no way of being certain).

And now, I have this “trill” sound, which was so loud that it stopped me dead mid-finkick as I looked around underwater wondering what was going on. At first, I thought it was a mobile phone ringing, though I quickly realised that would be absurd at 15 to 20 metres down.

It wasn’t until later in the evening when we’d downloaded all our footage that we were able to confirm that the sound came from one of the whales.

…so I finally got my heat run, and a trill to boot.

Thanks for the information Adam!

A heckuva lot happened this week. The short version: Yo-yo whales on Sunday; a fascinating discovery on Tuesday that a female with a calf last year is back now with a new calf; a few hours with a male and female pair engaged in courtship on Wednesday; more of the mother with consecutive calfs and the mating pair on Thursday; three other calfs and an encounter with a yearling on Friday; heat run on Saturday.

Read on for the extended version.

What Goes Down, Must Come Up
On Sunday, Takaji and I had a rare chance to go out to look for whales by ourselves. In fact, every other day that we’re in Tonga this season, we have groups of people with us, so the beginning of this week was the only chance we had to get in the water and concentrate just on photography.

With only ourselves to look after, we decided to try for relatively difficult whales…the yo-yos. When most people visit Vava’u for whale watching, they want to see mothers with newborn calfs. Perfectly understandable. Humpback whale calfs are adorable, and in many cases, the moms and babies can be relatively settled, such that it’s not too difficult to get a good look at them. They are, so to speak, perfect tourist whales.

In the case of yo-yo whales, you’ve got to find them (not easy because they only come up for a few breaths and then dive deep again), keep an eye on them while they’re down (again, not easy because humpbacks have countershading, i.e., dark dorsal surface area, so they tend to blend into the background), and then get yourself to the right place at the right time when they finally decide to come up for air (assuming they haven’t pulled a fast one and snuck off without your noticing).

The one saving grace, of course, is that they always come up for air…”What goes down, must come up”, to mis-paraphrase the old saying.

Over time, we’ve become pretty good at finding and observing whales like this, and for me at least, the challenge is something to relish.

At the bottom of the Hunga channel, we found several pairs of whales, with no other boats around. As is typical for yo-yo whales, each pair surfaced for a few breaths at a time, then dived down to perhaps 25 metres or so for 10 to 15 minutes, then came up again. The long waits were challenging given choppy seas and chilly water, but we managed to be in the right place at the right time on several occasions…making it a rewarding and relaxing day.

Calf Count
Our running total for the calf count we’re keeping came to 15 by the end of week two, comprising six we’re confident of being able to identify again using underwater photos, and nine which we either weren’t able to get into the water with, or for which don’t have sufficient images to make a positive ID.

One important sidenote is that this running total of fifteen doesn’t include the calfs that Paul and Karen from Dive Vava’u have seen and recorded this season. There will no doubt be some overlap when I get information from them later about their sightings and integrate the lists, but I’m hopeful there will be a number of net additions as well.

The most exciting part of the calf count came on Tuesday, which was our first day out on the water with the groups of visitors who arrived on Monday. Early in the morning, we found a mom and calf that turned out to be reasonably friendly. As soon as I saw the large female in the water, I was hit by a strong sense of déjà vu.

Later in the evening, we confirmed that she was a female with a calf that we had seen, photographed and catalogued in 2008, which meant two important things: First, we demonstrated that a specific whale has visited Vava’u in consecutive years; and second, we can prove that she had babies in both years…an unexpected early payoff for going to the effort of documenting our mother and calf encounters.

Why is this important? It supports the notion that humpbacks in this region make repeat visits to certain areas, and it also goes some way to showing that any attention Lilo (the name we gave the mother) received last year in Vava’u while she had her baby didn’t keep her stay away from the islands this year.

Over the years, I’ve heard many people proclaim that increased boat traffic has driven humpback whales from Vava’u and that allowing people to get into the water with whales is tantamount to harassment…the implication usually being that there will be no more whales left unless human activity is restricted and/ or banned. This is obviously a serious concern, and one that can’t be brushed off lightly.

The thing is, I’ve never seen any data to support such assertions. It might exist; I’ve just never seen any. And often, the people making such statements have spent little to no time in Vava’u, and usually, they’ve spent none in the water observing whale behaviour.

Call me cynical if you will, but I trust the whales more than I do people. If Lilo sees fit to re-visit Vava’u with babies, she must feel comfortable here. Her return to Vava’u is a positive sign, one that argues for the ability of people and humpbacks to co-exist in harmony.

In any case, Lilo is just one example, so it’s difficult to draw any definitive conclusions. I hope we can document more return visits in the future.

(See my earlier post about Lilo and her baby Stitches for more details.)

Besides Lilo, there were a couple of other calfs we named this week, namely Jaws and Curious George. We found both on Friday, along with another that was too active for us to get underwater images. Of the two, I found Jaws and Takaji found Curious George. I named Jaws after I saw the calf open its mouth while swimming alongside its mother.

I’ve seen baby whales open their mouths wide underwater, and adult humpbacks sometimes do something similar during heat runs, but this is the first time I’ve seen a baby open wide like this while swimming at the surface. Although Jaws is facing the opposite direction, you can clearly make out the baleen hanging from the top of the calf’s mouth. I’m not sure what Jaws was trying to achieve, but it was cool to watch, and it made the task of picking a name for the calf really easy.

I’m still amazed that I managed to get photos, since the seas were acting up and I was being bounced, tossed, thrown, shaken and stirred in every which direction while trying to photograph little Jaws’s jaws.

Takaji picked the name Curious George for the other new calf because his sons happen to be keen on the Curious George books right now, and the calf seemed particularly inquisitive.

Incidentally, the way we’ve been working things is that the person who finds and photographs a calf gets the naming rights. We only name a calf if we have underwater images, and only if those images are of sufficient quantity and quality that we’re confident of being able to identify the relevant calf if we encounter it again in the future.

When possible, we also try to photograph the mom’s unique features for future reference…something that proved invaluable in the case of Lilo.

Calfs: The Making Of
The courtship ritual between a male and female humpback is one of the most spectacular and moving sights I’ve ever witnessed. I’m not sure if the term “courtship ritual” is technically accurate, but it’s difficult to think of a more appropriate phrase.

It goes something like this…Male and female whale hook up, decide they like each other, swim around together, stroke one another, rub their bodies together, caress each other gently, splash and cavort at the water’s surface with obvious glee, dive down to the depths for some private time, emerge from the abyss to perform spectacular breaches…and so on.

I’ve been fortunate enough to see this several times, most recently on Wednesday.

When a pair of whales are in this romantic mood, they either completely ignore you (in which case, there’s nothing to write about), or they size you up and then incorporate you into their activities. The first time I came across a mating pair, I had no idea what was going on. All I knew was that there were two whales swimming just ahead, and I really, really wanted to catch up to them. I went from huffing and puffing to keep pace with the whales…to suddenly and unexpectedly being right alongside them, with the whales swooping and swerving all around, as if they had decided to reward me for my effort.

Now that I’ve been through the routine a number of times, I know that the whales sometimes seem to test people who get into the water to see what you’re made of. In this most recent experience, four of us entered the water, but I was the only one who kept up for the two to three kilometres of swimming in circles that ensued.

Everyone else got back on the boat and trailed behind as I did my best to stay with the frolicking cetaceans. At one point, perhaps 30 to 45 minutes after I had entered the water, the pair stopped without warning, waited for me to catch up, then started swimming again…adjusting their pace to accommodate my swimming speed.

The three people who were with me eventually dropped back in, and the whales treated all of us to an afternoon performance of some of most graceful and acrobatic manoeuvres you’ll ever see from 80 tonnes of aquatic mammal.

Of course, the entire point of their activity is to make a cute little baby whale, so in a sense, we witnessed “behind the scenes, making of” clips of an upcoming calf’s life.

After some time, the pair decided that playtime was over…and slipped off into the deep to continue their ritual. As far as I know, no one has actually seen humpback whales mate.

We happened upon the same pair again the following day. They were easy to identify, as the male’s pectoral fins were white on both sides, which is an unusual trait here. The amorous couple were still at it…so clearly, courtship for humpbacks is something they enjoy and take their time with.

The Young and the Restless
On the way back into the main harbour on Friday, we saw a small spout.

Friday was a bonanza day for calfs: we found Jaws, Curious George and one more in the first few hours out, so naturally, the first thought that popped into our heads was, “Another calf!”

Something wasn’t right though, since calfs should be accompanied by their mothers, meaning that small spouts should be followed by big ones. That’s one tell-tale sign of a humpback whale mother and calf.

The only thing we could make out was a single, tiny blow, taking in five to seven breaths of air, then diving for relatively short periods of time. In each instance, the whale emerged some distance away from where it had dived, indicating that it was moving while it was submerged.

Possibilities ran through my head: Abandoned calf (we had an interesting experience with one in 2008)?; whale with a breathing problem?; a particularly stealthy mother?; a different species of cetacean?

As we approached, I indicated to everyone that I would go in alone to check the water, as the visibility was generally poor in the area concerned (just off Eueiki), and the whale was clearly moving around. Chances were, I wouldn’t see anything, so I wanted to save everyone the trouble of getting in and out for nothing. All the same, I asked everyone to get geared up…just in case.

When the whale dived near us, I slipped into water with the intention of taking a quick peek and getting back on the boat.

Lo and behold, the whale had swum over to the boat and come to a complete stop about eight metres directly underneath me! As if that weren’t enough, the visibility was incredible…crystal-clear blue water with perfect light from the afternoon sun.

I waved frantically for everyone to get it. The whale just sat there, clearly aware of our presence, but in no particular hurry to move on. It was small…not quite a calf, not quite an adult. It moved slowly toward us…not so much out of caution, but more, so it appeared, with curiosity. It rotated to get a better look at us, completing a full circle around us, then drifted up to take a few breaths and dived down again.

The little humpback did this three or four times, before executing a full breach and swimming away.

In hindsight, I think our encounter was with a calf that was recently separated from its mother. In other words, the calf had been raised successfully and had arrived in Vava’u with its mom, and was now on its own.

The reason I’m going with this theory is that the calf reminded me of two encounters we documented in 2008, with really large calfs we named Blade and Yankee (calfs 5 and 6 in last year’s count). The whale we swam with on Friday was about the same size as those two calfs, and had similar morphology (shape).

Of course, I could be totally wrong, but the whale’s size, shape and temperment all suggest this scenario.

Wrapping Up
So those are the highlights for the week. I haven’t covered everything, but clearly, there was a lot going on over the past few days. The number of whales in the area seems to be picking up, as does the level of activity.

The most frustrating aspect of the week for me is that I haven’t seen a heat run yet. Karen has seen three, and Takaji has seen one (so not fair!). It’s great that the heat runs have finally started (or have come close to the islands where we can see them), but I so want to see one.

In case it isn’t obvious…I love heat runs. Whales in a heat run are filled with adrenaline and testosterone. They transform from placid, gentle filter-feeders into snorting, snarling cetaceans. The action is fast, and the interaction sometimes violent. Heat runs are all about energy, and I’m completely addicted.

Sigh…perhaps next week.

Here’s a better ID shot of the calf I named Pasta. The calf is really young, perhaps a week or two at most. Its body colouration is still white/ light grey, and it doesn’t have many scratches or scars yet.

A whale took a dump in my general direction today:

Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time it’s happened (yes, yes, I can already hear the wise cracks from my “friends”).

In the past, many people have told me that adult whales aren’t supposed to poo much while they’re in Tonga, because they’re supposedly not eating. Perhaps.

But I’ve seen this happen on several occasions, and today was the first time I had the presence of mind to hold my breath (literally and figuratively) and swim through for a few photos (isn’t it amazing what I’ll do for attention?).

The whale that this came from was severely injured, which may or may not be related to the defecation. In any case, there was quite a bit more where this came from.

I’ll write more about the whale’s injuries when I have time.

My first day on the water. My first calf of the season.

I named this one Mellow, in honour of Paul from Dive Vava’u.

Paul described the mother and calf as “really mellow” when he left the calf in my care. Actually, come to think of it, Paul’s rather mellow too, so it’s a fitting name in more ways than one.

It was overcast, dark and raining by the time I got in with the calf, but I have enough photos to be able to identify both mom and baby if we spot them again later in the season.

Thanks Paul!