text from
Kevin:
Where are you? Come back
to the house. There's something you need to see.
* * *
A beached whale. That's what Kevin
thought I needed to see.
It was down on the beach below the
Amazing Inn, not very far from where we'd had the campfire the
night before. We would've seen it then, which meant it must have
washed up during the night.
It wasn't a gigantic whale, like those
pictures you see of sperm whales or humpbacks washed up on long
sandy beaches. This was a killer whale on a small rocky beach.
Killer whales are mostly black with white patches — I'm pretty sure
they're not whales at all, but actually a kind of porpoise — and
they only ever get about twenty feet long. This one was even
smaller than that, maybe ten feet long, which meant it had to be
young.
It was partly still in the
water, with gentle waves washing around it. But it was definitely
dead, a massive bulk with sagging fins and a gigantic pink tongue
hanging halfway out of its mouth, like when Jabba the Hut dies
in Return of Jedi .
"Well, that's a bummer," I said as we
all stood around the carcass. I knew whales were really
intelligent, so I felt like I should be more sad. Part of it was
the bloated tongue, which was disgusting, and part of it was also
the teeth, which weren't quite as sharp as a shark's, but gave me a
little bit of the creeps anyway, knowing creatures big enough to
chomp me down whole were swimming around out in Puget
Sound.
"Killer whales aren't really killers,"
Min said, somehow reading the expression on my face. "Sometimes
they kill other whales, but they mostly eat salmon and seals.
They've literally never killed a human being. That's why 'orca' is
a much better name for them."
"I wonder why it beached itself," Ruby
said.
"Whales beach themselves for all kinds
of reasons," Min said. "Parasites, genetic mutations, injuries from
predators. But I don't think this orca did beach itself. I think it
died at sea, probably several days ago, then the tide washed it up.
Look at its eyes. Look at the skin."
Min had a point: its eyes were
definitely clouded over, and its fins were drooping.
"Oh!" Ruby said. "You're
r ight ."
Meanwhile, Vernie looked at me and
rolled her eyes. (For all her wonderful qualities, I concede that
Min could sometimes be a know-it-all.)
"What about the smell?" Kevin
said.
No one said anything for a second. The
smell had been there all along, but it was only now
registering.
Really registering.
It's not like it was the
worst thing I'd ever smelled, a collapsed cesspool or something
like that. But it wasn't roses either. Yes, I know a whale is a
mammal not a fish, but it smelled like fish.
Dead fish.
A lot of dead fish. Or maybe just one
really, really big dead fish.
Something occurred to me: this whale
smelled pretty bad, and it had only been there for a few hours,
maybe even less. I hadn't smelled it from the deck earlier that
morning, and I had a feeling I would've noticed if it had been down
here.
What's it going to be like
in another twenty-four hours? I
thought.
I felt guilty again, confronted by the
death of this magnificent, probably-sentient creature, and here I
was thinking mostly about the smell. But the fact is, this had the
potential to ruin our wedding.
Sure enough, Kevin said, "We need to
move it. Someone help me." He leaned over, and Nate and Gunnar
immediately bent down to join him.
"You can't move it," Min said,
horrified.
"Why not?" Nate said.
"Because it's illegal! This beached
orca is an essential part of the marine ecosystem. As it
decomposes, it will support of a whole array of life."
"It'll still be an essential part of
the marine ecosystem supporting a whole array of life," Kevin said.
"It'll just be doing it a little farther down the
beach."
"No, it won't, mate," Nate said. "It's
too damn heavy."
"How much do you think it weighs?"
Kevin asked.
"Probably a thousand
pounds," Gunnar said, somehow having already looked it up on his
phone. "Huh. Infant
Kevin:
Where are you? Come back
to the house. There's something you need to see.
* * *
A beached whale. That's what Kevin
thought I needed to see.
It was down on the beach below the
Amazing Inn, not very far from where we'd had the campfire the
night before. We would've seen it then, which meant it must have
washed up during the night.
It wasn't a gigantic whale, like those
pictures you see of sperm whales or humpbacks washed up on long
sandy beaches. This was a killer whale on a small rocky beach.
Killer whales are mostly black with white patches — I'm pretty sure
they're not whales at all, but actually a kind of porpoise — and
they only ever get about twenty feet long. This one was even
smaller than that, maybe ten feet long, which meant it had to be
young.
It was partly still in the
water, with gentle waves washing around it. But it was definitely
dead, a massive bulk with sagging fins and a gigantic pink tongue
hanging halfway out of its mouth, like when Jabba the Hut dies
in Return of Jedi .
"Well, that's a bummer," I said as we
all stood around the carcass. I knew whales were really
intelligent, so I felt like I should be more sad. Part of it was
the bloated tongue, which was disgusting, and part of it was also
the teeth, which weren't quite as sharp as a shark's, but gave me a
little bit of the creeps anyway, knowing creatures big enough to
chomp me down whole were swimming around out in Puget
Sound.
"Killer whales aren't really killers,"
Min said, somehow reading the expression on my face. "Sometimes
they kill other whales, but they mostly eat salmon and seals.
They've literally never killed a human being. That's why 'orca' is
a much better name for them."
"I wonder why it beached itself," Ruby
said.
"Whales beach themselves for all kinds
of reasons," Min said. "Parasites, genetic mutations, injuries from
predators. But I don't think this orca did beach itself. I think it
died at sea, probably several days ago, then the tide washed it up.
Look at its eyes. Look at the skin."
Min had a point: its eyes were
definitely clouded over, and its fins were drooping.
"Oh!" Ruby said. "You're
r ight ."
Meanwhile, Vernie looked at me and
rolled her eyes. (For all her wonderful qualities, I concede that
Min could sometimes be a know-it-all.)
"What about the smell?" Kevin
said.
No one said anything for a second. The
smell had been there all along, but it was only now
registering.
Really registering.
It's not like it was the
worst thing I'd ever smelled, a collapsed cesspool or something
like that. But it wasn't roses either. Yes, I know a whale is a
mammal not a fish, but it smelled like fish.
Dead fish.
A lot of dead fish. Or maybe just one
really, really big dead fish.
Something occurred to me: this whale
smelled pretty bad, and it had only been there for a few hours,
maybe even less. I hadn't smelled it from the deck earlier that
morning, and I had a feeling I would've noticed if it had been down
here.
What's it going to be like
in another twenty-four hours? I
thought.
I felt guilty again, confronted by the
death of this magnificent, probably-sentient creature, and here I
was thinking mostly about the smell. But the fact is, this had the
potential to ruin our wedding.
Sure enough, Kevin said, "We need to
move it. Someone help me." He leaned over, and Nate and Gunnar
immediately bent down to join him.
"You can't move it," Min said,
horrified.
"Why not?" Nate said.
"Because it's illegal! This beached
orca is an essential part of the marine ecosystem. As it
decomposes, it will support of a whole array of life."
"It'll still be an essential part of
the marine ecosystem supporting a whole array of life," Kevin said.
"It'll just be doing it a little farther down the
beach."
"No, it won't, mate," Nate said. "It's
too damn heavy."
"How much do you think it weighs?"
Kevin asked.
"Probably a thousand
pounds," Gunnar said, somehow having already looked it up on his
phone. "Huh. Infant
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