Perhaps the whales knew
why they went to Hanalei

The death of the baby melon-head whale in Hanalei Bay during the Fourth of July weekend (Star-Bulletin, July 6) is a tragic loss and should be a loud awakening to us all. In our misguided humanitarian efforts to save a pod of visiting melon-head whales from some hypothesized demise, we forced them out of a protected bay where, it turns out, a calf had been left behind. Had the baby's body not washed up on shore the next day, it would have been assumed that the pod was without a doubt distressed and disoriented and that this was indeed a "storybook ending," as it was heralded in the press. Given the heartbreaking reality, we must consider the possibility that the pod was here to birth and had been prematurely shepherded out to sea before the baby could keep up.

Discovering this wondrous, unprecedented sight at Hanalei Bay, my initial reaction was one of deep joy and honor in the whales' presence. A Hawaiian waterman mentioned to me that they might be here to birth, and I felt an even deeper love for these creatures. Many of us present intuited that the whales did not appear at all stressed; they huddled, frolicked and sometimes playfully tail-slapped. There was never any indication that they might beach themselves. And if they had, all of Hanalei would have leaped into the water to help.

The human pack on shore, however, did indeed seem frenzied. It wasn't until speculative rumors began to circulate, creating a rapidly escalating nervous energy, that officials chose to take action. The experts seemed certain that these rarely studied mammals could not survive in shallow waters; but this is supposition. This rush to judgment is where I take issue. Dolphins and whales are our planet's oldest and wisest inhabitants, holding ancient knowledge. Hanalei Bay might have been stored in their collective memory banks as a wonderfully peaceful refuge. Now it's most likely a place they will avoid.

Can we really claim bragging rights for saving the pod? Perhaps these intelligent mammals were in control, choosing to be in the bay, possibly seeking safe harbor from RIMPAC military exercises or gathering for a birthing. Why do we think we know more than a species might know about itself? They live in the ocean, we do not!

What happened at Hanalei Bay seems like a misguided, pumped-up display of questionable scientific prowess. With an amped crowd and overzealous officials, the fateful decision was made the next morning -- and now mourning is what we should be doing. Had the pod been here to birth, imagine the whales' joy at welcoming the newest member of their ohana! Now imagine their grief. It is a communal grief that should serve as an important reminder to us all.

The Zen saying goes, "Those who think they know, don't." We witnessed a well-intentioned group of concerned citizens and scientists who thought they knew, but perhaps didn't. I'm no expert, but common sense and reflection might have saved the little whale. The fanfare has subsided; now let us learn from this tragedy.

The whales' message is a simple one: Trust nature, and relinquish control. Tune into the heart with intuition, not with the reasoning mind. To everyone who heard their song and their cry: Let us not let the little whale's death be in vain. Let us be thankful that this young life came into our world to enlighten us. Let the scientists record it in their research manuals. Let it humble us and give us a deeper reverence for nature's intelligence. Let us live the Hawaiian virtues of malama a'ina (care of the Earth), malama ke kai (the ocean), malama pono (each other). Let us care for each other but also honor and respect each other, all creatures great and small.