Whale Wise 
Written by Tom Grove
This January, Tom and Alyssa are spending a month in the remote northeast corner of Iceland, studying cetacean occurrence at the site of a potential future port construction. By looking for whales, dolphins and porpoises in winter, we aim to support acoustic evidence of cetacean occurrence and understand the seasonality of their presence. Ultimately, by putting these animals on the map (literally), we aim to protect them from the potential impacts of future development. However, winter fieldwork in Iceland certainly has its challenges!
Why Finnafjörður? Why winter?
The remote Northeast of Iceland has very low levels of coastal human activity, currently limited to local, small-scale fisheries. The area may be an important foraging ground for marine mammals such as humpback whales, although there has been very little scientific research. However, in the small fjord of Finnafjörður, a large port (6 km long, 1,200 hectares) is scheduled for construction to serve trans-Arctic shipping traffic and process raw mining materials from Greenland; both activities are forecast to increase due to melting Arctic ice. These operations present considerable threats to whale and dolphin populations, including noise pollution, vessel collision, and physical habitat loss. Therefore, there is a critical need to determine the presence and distribution of cetaceans in the area to mitigate potential disturbance. Such measures would also help to safeguard fishing grounds for local communities.
Therefore, we set up the Whales and Sounds of Finnafjörður project to collect essential baseline data on cetacean occurrence. To date, we have deployed a hydrophone (underwater sound recorder) for one year at the mouth of the fjord in 2021-22. Research Officer Amelie analysed these sound recordings (published in the Marine Pollution Bulletin) and discovered the year-round occurrence of marine mammals, including the near-constant singing of humpback whales between mid-December and mid-February. Singing is a critical social and mating activity for this species, which will likely be impacted by construction and shipping traffic.
These acoustic recordings are critical but should be supported by visual evidence to confirm whale presence, species and distribution. Therefore, this winter Alyssa and I are performing a month of land-based visual surveys, paired with a second hydrophone deployment in Finnafjörður (deployed in July 2024).
Settling into Icelandic winter
Alyssa and I arrived in Reykjavík (southwest Iceland) on January 16th and the next day started our journey to Finnafjörður on the opposite side of the country (northeast). On the way we became acquainted with slippery, snowy roads. Iceland in winter is stunningly beautiful.
In Finnafjörður, we’re staying with one of the only residents in the area, Reimar Sigurjónsson (who, by the way, has two amazing summer holiday cottages!). In a small farmhouse with Reimar and two gorgeous dogs – Lára and Stígur – we’ve settled into a routine led by the waxing winter days. Sunrise is about 10:30 am and sunset is at 3:30 pm so you need to make the most of any daylight you have! Most days have been too rough to watch whales but we go outside every day, usually for a snowy walk in gale-force winds with the dogs. Either side of that, cosy computer work is the norm.
This is our first winter in Iceland and we’re blown away by the raw, lonely beauty of the place. The rivers of snow that blow past you as make your way through four-foot drifts. The white-on-grey-on-white of the monochrome landscape. The toothy waves gnashing at the frozen shore, with bobbing eiders and soaring fulmars as witness. The imposing mountain of Gunnarfjall as a constant companion in the otherwise-open landscape. I’m currently writing this under the psychedelic watch of polar stratospheric clouds. We feel very fortunate to spend time here.
Whales amongst the waves
This is a very beautiful place but we’re here to focus on the whales. Whenever conditions allow, we hike up the hill behind the farmstead, set up our equipment and look for whales. Trekking up the icy slopes with a large theodolite (instrument to determine whale location) is challenging but feasible, and the views are a helpful distraction.
While we have attempted to scan the seas on numerous occasions, conditions were only optimal on two days (calm seas and good visibility). Amazingly, we’ve recorded sightings on both occasions! I use the term ‘amazingly’ because we really didn’t know what we would see coming here – from a scientific perspective, it’s a truly unexplored place in winter.
On the first day, Tom spotted three blows in the far distance and a few minutes of observations confirmed that they were humpback whales! We are most interested in this species due to their acoustic presence in winter 2021/22, and we’re very curious to see whether the current hydrophone deployment picks up singing at this time. We were ecstatic.
On the second day, we had been watching for a while when Alyssa spotted a pod of white-beaked dolphins charging into the fjord! After we finished our visual survey, we launched the drone to confirm the presence of about 50 adults. Interestingly, no young (small) animals seemed to be present. They spend the next three glorious hours moving back and forth within the fjord, sometimes in bursts of speed, other times milling around on social circles. We don’t know why they were here, but their move into the fjord seemed very deliberate. It’s sobering to think how the port construction would change this habitat.
What’s in store?
As I write this on February 1st, we are planning to spend 1-2 more weeks at Finnafjörður before heading to the Westfjords. Amongst forecast storms, our fingers are crossed for a few more calm days and even more cetacean sightings. After this field season, the next step is to pick up toe hydrophone in July and compare our visual sightings with acoustic evidence of cetacean presence. Stay tuned for results!
By Tom Grove
The festive period of December–January is a time of celebration and togetherness for many human communities, but what does this time mean for the cetaceans of Iceland and the wider north Atlantic? For them, it’s a time of great movement, foraging, gathering, mating, birthing and – as always – surviving an increasingly human ocean. With a healthy dose of poetic license, here are the festive stories for some of our cetacean friends.
Humpback whale
As an Icelandic humpback, I could take one of two very different paths in December. Last year, I stayed in Iceland for the entire winter, feeding in the frigid waters which are still surprisingly full of fish. However, this year I will be leaving my icy foraging ground and swim south to the warm, clear waters of the Caribbean. It’s a long migration – thousands of miles – but one I have made before. In fact, I travelled from the island of Guadeloupe to Iceland when I was just a few months old. There’s little krill or small fish to eat down south, but that doesn’t bother me much; I’ve built up enough energy reserves during the summer.
In these tropical seas, my extroverted side comes out to play – this is a time for socialising and even mating. As a female humpback, when I’m older this is also the time I will give birth. As the breeding season progresses, the waters become alive with the ghostly carols of male humpbacks, echoing hundreds of miles through the Caribbean Sea. As I migrate, these melodies draw me into the congregation, although it’s increasingly difficult to hear them as vessel noise increases year-on-year. Some of us even get hit by these huge, fast ships – I’m one of the lucky ones.
White-beaked dolphin
Unlike many humpbacks, the winter waters of Iceland are my permanent home – ♪ the cold never bothered me anyway ♪. Over the festive period, my pod and I stay busy hunting for fish and squid. As the auroras dance across the sky, my dark winter days are illuminated by the exuberant company of my podmates. We’re always on the move, leaping through the waves and playing together – every day is a reason to celebrate. If we come across a whale, we’ll ride the pressure wave generated by its huge head – and if it’s a humpback, we’ll tease it for fun, daring each other to jump on its head!
My pod is everything to me and communication is constant, with clicks and whistles keeping us together. Scientists might not understand all the details of our language, but every call carries meaning, allowing us to navigate and survive in the dark shelf waters of Iceland.
Sperm whale
As a subadult male sperm whale, the winter months are a quiet time for contemplation. While females and younger whales stay in warmer, shallower waters, and some of my mates have swum south to join them, I roam the deep and frigid waters around Iceland and beyond. My world lies far beneath the surface, in the inky darkness of the ocean’s depths.
Diving thousands of meters below, I hunt for fish and squid, my favoured prey. Using my echolocation, I “see” in the darkness, clicking to navigate and locate my next meal. These dives are long and intense, but they sustain me through the solitary stretches of ocean. Occasionally, I’ll encounter other males, but our interactions are brief. My festive journey is one of endurance, a lone traveller in a vast and silent world, lit down below only by the glowing creatures of the deep.
Orca
December in the North Atlantic means plenty of herring. As an Icelandic orca, my pod and I rely on these fish to sustain us during the harsh winter months. Together, we roam the icy waters around Iceland, working as a team to corral schools of herring. Our coordination is seamless, a result of years of learning and trust within the pod. Tail slaps and sudden bursts of speed are our tools, stunning the fish before we feast.
The long Arctic nights are part of our world, but the darkness doesn’t hinder us. Like the sperm whale, my echolocation paints a vivid picture of the underwater environment. Unlike the sperm whale, however, family is key to my survival and happiness. The bonds within our pod run deep, strengthened by communication and prey sharing, our favourite gift. We split up from time to time, but we will always see each other again. Our pod has been doing well recently, with babies and plentiful food, but I’ve heard about the troubles experienced by other populations – the silent killer that is persistent organic pollution rendering us unable to breed. Slowly, we are dying out. My pod and I are grateful for every day of prosperity.
The North Atlantic during the holiday season is far from quiet. Beneath the waves, a world of activity and life continues, diverse and mysterious. Whether it’s the humpback whale’s songs echoing through the warm Caribbean waters, the white-beaked dolphin’s playful leaps in the frigid seas, the sperm whale’s solitary dives into the abyss or the orca’s coordinated hunts beneath the Arctic sky, each species has its own story to tell. While we humans celebrate in their unique way, let’s remember our blubbery neighbours – their lives, our impacts and the work we can do to protect them.
By Katie Hall
Since returning home to the U.S. after my first field season in Iceland, I’ve been asked many times about the highlights of my experience. And I find myself repeatedly reflecting on how wonderful it was for life to revolve around whales again. It’s been a few years since I last had the chance to do field work, and I’d almost forgotten how spectacularly blissful it is to spend every waking moment thinking about whales and to be surrounded by people who get equally excited to see them.
Don’t get me wrong… it can be exhausting. There are days we’re out the door by 4am. You won’t see me jumping up and down with excitement at 4am (though Tom will make up for that with his boundless energy and enthusiasm). We may debate over whether the 4am start was worth it, but in hindsight, it always was. Outside of field season, computer work and the odd conversation allow me a daily dose of whales, but rarely do I have the opportunity to fully exist in the world of whales outside of field season. What a joy it is to live and breathe whales for a whole month and be surrounded by people who get it.
During field season, we get to be the crazy whale people. We drive around in a yellow van and stand alongside the road in our matching blue Dryrobes, shouting with excitement as we stare at whales in the fjords. We could be a cartoon. When we receive a message from our friend Judith that there’s a blue whale in Steingrímsfjörður, we lose our minds. “Get in the [expletives] car!” rings perpetually in my mind as I remember us wildly scrambling to get in the van to go find the elusive blue whale. I’m not going to lie, when we did see the blue whale, it was kilometers away and we could hardly see it, but the excitement did not fade. That’s just how field season is.
What’s beautiful about a month with whales–other than the beautiful whales themselves–is that it’s not just about the whales. I feel that it’s about focusing my thoughts and energy on this world that’s bigger than myself. It’s about finding joy in the life around us, including the marine life that spends most of its time below the surface but, just for a moment, invites us into its world.
When I start to learn the humpbacks by name, suddenly I feel as if I know those whale as individuals. And I start to care about them. When I make eye contact with a harbour seal, it’s as if the fourth wall is broken. Suddenly we’re coexisting in this world together. I might even start paying attention to the birds flying overhead and find myself worrying about that duckling we saw on its own earlier.
Despite the moments of utter madness as we hurry to locate a blue whale or to hustle out the door at 4am, we’re forced to slow down and take it all in. We might spend hours standing on the side of the road, flying the drone back and forth over the fjord as we collect aerial images of the humpbacks below. While we may be a few kilometers away, we’re fully present there with the whales, taking it all in. I find myself paying more attention to my place in this world and the role we as humans play in these ecosystems. As someone who’s been incredibly fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend time observing whales, I feel that I have to do more to protect them.
There’s so little that we know and so much to learn about these animals and the ways they’re impacted by human activities. When life revolves around whales, the more curious I become and the more I want to make a difference. I feel increasingly inspired to do meaningful research that will inform impactful conservation measures. That’s why I’m so grateful to be a part of Whale Wise and work alongside a team of curious and passionate people who aim to make a difference in the world.
by Jessica Ward
“I could never have dreamed I would have seen something like that in my life.” The day we spent with orcas in Steingrímsfjörður.
At the start of this month, our current field research team were utterly blown away and lost for words for how the day unfolded. We started with humpbacks (our study species) so we knew it would be a good day. We collected some data and we got to spend time with whales; perfect, and all in a morning’s work.
It was when we were back in our van, driving along the coast that we discovered a different species: orcas! Orcas, commonly known as the wolves of the sea, swimming next to the coastline. We couldn’t believe it. Orcas are very rarely seen in our area in the Westfjords. The rest of the day took us following these beautiful and powerful animals all the way up the coast. We had some extremely special and close encounters, as well as being able to fly our drone to capture footage of some incredible and unique behaviours.
We know from our friend and colleague Filipa Samarra who studies the orcas in Iceland and runs the Icelandic Orca Project, that this pod of orcas are in fact well known in Iceland. In Filipa’s catalogue the pod is labelled as the IS090s (IS standing for Ísland/ Iceland). Orca pods are matrilineal: they are matriarchal families, led by the oldest and wisest female, the grandmother of the family who will pass her knowledge and wisdom on. It was so interesting to see how the members of this family interacted with each other and how the leading female orchestrated her family. We recognised the leading female of this pod. Her name is Sakkara and it is not the first time we have seen her!
Unlike the baleen whales, so the humpbacks for example, in toothed whales (including the orcas, also known as killer whales) the males are larger than the females. Sakkara was travelling with five other individuals, one of which was a very large male. Male orcas have very tall and pointy dorsal fins. This particular male is not believed to be part of this matriline, but has been seen together with them on many occasions. He has also been spotted alone in Scotland. Orca pods are very tight knit families; orcas naturally remain with their mothers throughout their lives, though of course there are some exceptions. Unfortunately pods might get separated for a number of reasons: individuals might lose their family as a result of anthropogenic disruption, illness or even intervention by humans (captive orcas are normally individuals from different pods). Additionally, males will leave their pods to mate elsewhere, and this is maybe the reason that this large adult male was with Sakkara’s pod: to mate. From our perspective, it definitely seemed that the male was interacting a lot with the entire pod, and playing around and having fun with the younger individuals too.
Sakkara and her pod are known to spend most of their coastal time in Iceland in Snæfellsnes: the long and narrow peninsula north of Reykjavík. This year they spent all of July in the Vestmann Islands, off the south coast of Iceland, catching seals and ducks. Sakkara and her pod have also ventured to the Westfjords periodically, including of course the day we saw them in Steingrímsfjörður, travelling next to the little town where we live. As mentioned above, we have also seen Sakkara here at least twice before, and off the coast of Ísafjörður (the largest town in the Westfjords) last year during early summer where we saw Sakkara kill a porpoise! Orcas have a diverse diet and different orca populations can feed on fish and squid or larger mammals like seals and other whale species (including sometimes humpback whale calves). On this day, we were very surprised to see Sakkara and her pod catching the eider ducks!
The many hours that we, unexpectedly, got to spend with the orcas allowed us to closely observe their behaviors, their movements and their interactions. We could speculate as to what it meant and although we do not understand it all, for example exactly why they were in Steingrímsfjörður and what exactly the male was doing there, how long they might stay, how long he might stay etc… lets talk about what we saw! A particularly surprising behavior was, as mentioned above, their interactions with the eider ducks. We noticed that it was usually the adult orcas catching the birds and seemingly injuring them so that then the younger orcas could ‘have a go’. Perhaps this was a way for the younger orcas to practice hunting? We don’t know whether birds are typically part of the orca diet. We didn’t actually see the orcas eat the birds, but the younger ones were definitely sharing and ripping the flesh. Another noticeable interaction was that we saw the adult male ‘flirting’ with another female in the pod. They had been swimming in very close connection, almost with their bellies touching, but not quite. There was one moment when these two were separated from the rest, and one younger orca was guided away from them by Sakkara. Sakkara and this younger whale swam just meters from the coastline, meanwhile we even saw the penis of the adult male… so it definitely seemed reasonable enough for the younger one to stay away for this! At this point in time, we really could not believe our eyes! We had seen it all.
Being able to see orcas in the wild is an extreme privilege. These fascinating, hugely intelligent and infamous apex predators (hence the wolves of the sea) are capable of igniting so much curiosity, compassion and excitement. Knowing the history (and in many cases the current lived experiences) of these animals in captivity, made this encounter that bit more meaningful to us. Knowing how social and close these animals are in their pods and how they can travel such great distances over time (in the case of Sakkara and her pod being spotted in many different locations around coastal Iceland), it is hard to believe that these animals in captivity are confined to a small tank, stripped of their complex wild lives, their autonomy and their families. In 1985 in SeaWorld Orlando Kalina, also known as “baby Shamu”, became the first killer whale calf to be successfully born and raised in captivity. Her mother Katina was an Icelandic killer whale who mated in captivity with a Southern resident killer whale named Winston. 4 years later, Kalina was separated from her mother, Katina, and that night Katina showed extremely obvious signs of grief, anger and upset (this is not the only example of this sort of behaviour being seen when captive orcas have been separated). Katina spent the following night in the corner of the pool and she was recorded making extremely long-distance vocalisations in search for her lost baby. Sadly, Kalina was moved to SeaWorld Ohio, so despite being possible in the wild, these calls would not reunite the mother with her baby. Kalina went on to live until 25 years old (her lifespan in the wild could have been double this) and during this time she lived in four different SeaWorlds and gave birth five times, including unfortunately yet unsurprisingly to one stillborn. Thankfully, our experience with Sakkara and her pod was nothing but special and very humbling. They took control of our emotions, albeit for just one day, and not the other way round.
We were in complete awe of these animals: how they navigate such deeply complex lives in the sea. Perhaps a story we will never fully understand, yet one we should not exploit. There are a total of 55 orcas left in captivity worldwide, 33 of which were captive-born. 18 of these animals live in the three remaining SeaWorld parks in the US. In 2016, SeaWorld announced that they were ending their killer whale breeding programme. Thankfully there will no longer be killer whales born to a life in captivity in SeaWorld like Kalina. The orcas who currently live there will be the last generation. Unfortunately this is not the case for other marine park companies, yet. May the future bring positive change, and learn from their ways in the wild, just like Sakkara and her pod. These orcas were free and we could observe them interacting with each other in ways we couldn’t imagine. May Sakkara and her pod continue to do so and continue to capture people as they caught us that day: completely and utterly mind blown.
Read more about the story of Kalina and Katina in captivity, and others like it, here:
https://missionblue.org/2013/08/blackfish-a-killer-documentary/
https://killerwhales.fandom.com/wiki/Katina
https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S1558787819300164
By Flordespina Dodds
Yesterday, a critical rescue took place in Steingrímsfjörður, where a young humpback whale known as Bird was successfully disentangled from fishing gear. This operation, coordinated by MAST (Icelandic Food and Veterinary Authority), local fishers, rescue teams, and Whale Wise, underscores the importance of collaboration in protecting marine life.
Bird is named for a distinctive mark on its fluke, which resembles a bird in flight. This young whale has been a familiar presence in Steingrímsfjörður since early August, and Whale Wise has been seeing it throughout the month. In late August, we captured aerial images of Bird for the “Scars from Above” project, documenting scars that reflect past entanglements. These images are crucial in our research to understand how entanglement impacts whale health over time, making Bird an important part of our ongoing work.
On September 11th, we received a report from Judith Scott, a whale-watching guide from Láki Tours, who spotted Birdstruggling in fishing gear during a tour. Shortly after, fisherman Baldur Steinn Haraldsson shared a video confirming that Bird was still alive and entangled. Both Judith and Baldur played key roles in alerting us to Bird‘s condition, enabling a swift response.
Upon receiving the reports, we drove back to Steingrímsfjörður from Ísafjörður where we had been collecting aerial images of the whales. Using a drone equipped with a 7x zoom camera, we carefully monitored Bird from above and confirmed that the whale was still entangled. The drone footage revealed a line wrapped around Bird‘s tail stock and scars along its body, showing the fishing line may have shifted along its body. Our actions were guided by advice from the British Divers Marine Life Rescue (BDMLR) Large Whale Disentanglement Team, who helped us assess the extent of the entanglement.
In an amazing display of teamwork, three fishing boats and an ICE-SAR rescue boat arrived on the scene. Informed by our earlier drone footage (showing the position of the entanglement), these trained professionals worked slowly and carefully to disentangle Bird without causing further stress or harm. After precise manoeuvring, the whale was finally free, lifting its tail and swimming back into the fjord.
This was a moment of relief and reflection for our team. At Whale Wise, we focus on studying scars from past entanglements to understand the long-term effects on whale health. Watching Bird—a whale we had been observing since early-August—struggle in real time was a heart-wrenching reminder of the dangers these animals face. Without intervention, Bird may not have survived.
We are incredibly thankful for the collaboration of everyone involved. This rescue was made possible through the combined efforts of Judith, Baldur, local fishermen, and the ICE-SAR team.
Whale Wise, is dedicated to whale conservation in Iceland, and continues to study the threats of entanglement through our “Scars from Above” project. In collaboration with Dr. Charla Basran from the University of Iceland, we are using drones to monitor and understand these threats in humpback whales.
What to Do If You See an Entangled Whale
If you spot an entangled whale in Iceland, it is crucial to keep a safe distance and avoid interfering. Instead, contact MAST or ICE-SAR and report the sighting. You can also contact BDMLR, who are trained and equipped to handle these delicate situations.
Thank you to all who contributed to Bird‘s successful rescue and to those working every day to protect our oceans and marine life.
Stay tuned for more updates on our work and follow our journey as we continue to protect the magnificent humpback whales of Iceland.
by Flordespina Dodds
The more time the team spends in Iceland the more we can recognize some of the humpback whales year to year. Humpback whales all have unique black and white markings on their flukes (bottom of the tail), like fingerprints. This means that when we take pictures of their fluke, we can identify them to the individual. Unfortunately, some whales have very “average” flukes with a pattern that doesn’t stand out, so it is hard to remember those individuals. On the other hand, some whales have unique flukes that we can recognize immediately. Some of these more unique whales have been seen across a few years, which makes it feel like seeing an old friend when you see them again. It is nice to know that some of the whales we have seen before have survived the winter, and have chosen to come back to the same area.
Our team stays in a small town called Drangsnes along Steingrímsfjörður to collect data for our Scars from Above project. The goal is to collect aerial images of humpback whales to look at entanglement scars as well as measuring their length and widths for age and health estimates. We are then comparing the entanglement scars we see from the drone to pictures taken from boats (the standard method). Judith Scott our good friend and collaborator takes photos of the whales on her boat trips and keeps her own catalougue of the humpback whales that she encounters. Judith is the whale watching guide for Láki tours from Hólmavík, and one of the biggest whale nerds we know. Sometimes when the weather isn’t good enough to fly the drone (windy, rainy) we will join Judith on her Láki Tours trips in Steingrímsfjörður to collect photos of the whales. We also sometimes drive west to Ísafjarðardjúp a large fjord system to fly our drone over the whales there as well.
Here I will talk about just a few of the team’s favourite whales that we have seen this year. You will see each of the whales meno#, this is their number in our fluke catalogue, and their menoa#, which is their number in our aerial catalogue.
Angel, meno381, menoa52
Steingrímsfjörður
2022/08, 2023/06, 2024/07/08
length = 10m, max width = 1.87m
Angel is a special whale in Steingrímsfjörður. Angel’s name comes from the very beautiful pattern on its tail that looks like angel wings in the middle of its fluke. Judith first saw Angel in 2022, the same year we first saw Angel in August. We then saw this whale again in June 2023, and this year in July and August. On one trip this year in mid-July, we saw a few humpbacks, including Angel. Angel came very close to the boat a couple of times; it was so humbling to be so close to Angel and to be able to hear them breath in and out. It was a special moment. When we fly the drone, we see the backs of the whales first and then if we are lucky and they lift their tails for a dive we get to see their fluke. Angel has a nice distinct mark on the top side of their tail that we can see very clearly as the drone pilot, yet another reason why Angel makes a very nice whale to fly the drone over.
Vampire, meno372, menoa83
Steingrímsfjörður
2022/08/09/10, 2023/06/07/09/10, 2024/08/09
length = 10.92m, max width = 2.05m
Vampire is another special whale. Named for two white spots in the black portion of their fluke, which looks like the teeth marks a vampire might leave behind. Sometimes you need some creativity when naming the whales based on their fluke patterns! We have seen Vampire in 2022, 2023, and this year, always in Steingrímsfjörður. In fact, Judith has been the whale watching guide here since 2017 and she has seen Vampire every year since, Vampire is the only whale she has seen every year she has been here! Vampire must love Steingrímsfjörður. One of the team’s special memories of Vampire is from back in June 2023. Our cabin in Drangsnes looks out over the sea and Grímsey Island, a small island covered in seasonal marine birds (puffins, razorbills, kittiwakes, etc) about 1500m off the coast. Vampire spent about a week hanging out by the island, among all the birds and seaweed. Whales are not often seen between the coast and the Island but Vampire sure was enjoying the aera. It’s nice to know Vampire likes to return year after year and we hope to see them next year.
Chopped off, meno320, menoa141
Ísafjarðardjúp
2021/08, 2023/06/07/08/09, 2024/08 (Arvik 2022)
length = 9.81m, max width = 1.81m
Chopped Off has an unfortunate name but it really has stuck. Looking at their fluke you can see where the name came from. At some point in their life, they must have had an accident. It could have been a boat strike or a severe entanglement where Chopped Off lost the end of its fluke, though survived and fortunately now lives on. We have only ever seen this whale in Ísafjarðardjúp, a very large fjord system which seems to be a good area for humpbacks. We often see large gatherings of 20-30 humpback whales throughout the fjord system.
We first saw Chopped Off in 2021 and then in 2023 and again this year. However, we know that this whale was also seen in 2022 (not by us). In 2023 we worked with a Sailing boat called Arvik: they provide a platform for research groups to conduct their projects at sea. We joined Arvik for a few weeks in July and August 2023 in Ísafjarðardjúp. While on board we collected aerial images of many humpback whales, one of which was Chopped Off. We showed the Arvik team this whale because it is so unique and to our surprise, they said they knew this whale and that it was their favourite humpback. Arvik had spent some time in Ísafjarðardjúp in 2022 before we knew them, and they had seen Chopped Off then! Nice to know that Chopped Off consistently likes to come to Ísafjarðardjúp.
Banana, meno524, no menoa yet
Ísafjarðardjúp (Mjóifjörður)
2024/08
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This season, one of our most unique experiences with a whale has been with Banana. On the 4th of August the team drove to Ísafjarðardjúp to look for whales on a what was supposed to be a good weather day. There were whales but it was too windy to drone in the end. So instead, we decided to stop at some geothermal hot pots on the way back to Drangsnes. These hotpots are down at the end of one of the fjords which has a bridge at the opening (Mjóifjörður). The team assured Katie (one of our new team members) that you never see whales in this fjord because of the bridge. Once in the hot pot, what happens? A whale starts breaching (jumping) repeatedly. We drove around the fjord to see it closer, and the whale came within 100m of the shore. We got out the camera and got some ID photos. The whale was named Banana because it has a banana shape on its fluke and… the team was eating banana bread while watching the whale.
On august 7th the team returned to Ísafjarðardjúp to drone the whales (on an actually good weather day) and they got an aerial image of Banana on the way back to Drangsnes again in Mjóifjörður. On August 12th the team returned once again to drone over the whales in Ísafjarðardjúp and stopped again at the hot pots on the way back. This time Banana was still in Mjóifjörður and very near the hot pots, so some of the team braved the cold Icelandic sea and swam with Banana (100m at the closest). It was a magical experience! The team last saw Banana again on the 29th of August. Driving once again to find the whales in Ísafjarðardjúp, the team was just crossing the bridge at the mouth of banana’s Fjord (Mjóifjörður) and saw a blow. The team pulled over and got the drone up to get another aerial image of Banana. Then Banana breached twice which was amazing to watch. It is impossible to know if Banana is the only whale willing to go under the bridge, or if Banana has left Mjóifjörður between the times we visited. Alas, we hope Banana is enjoying their time in Mjóifjörður.
Mufasa, meno313, menoa4
Skjálfandi, Steingrímsfjörður
2021/07, 2024/08/09
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The last whale on our list is Mufasa. For the Whale Wise team Mufasa has been a special whale for a while. Back in 2021 the team was out on Skjálfandi Bay near Húsavík in a 5m boat collecting aerial images and blow samples for our projects at the time. It had been a long and early morning and just before giving up for the day and returning to the harbour, the team spotted one last whale. They approached slowly and got the equipment ready. But before they knew it the whale had approached the boat and was very curious, circling the boat and spy hopping (lifting its head out of the water). It was the most spiritual experience. The whale had loads of scars all over its body and so was initially named Scar, but because the whale had really been the hero of the day it was renamed Mufasa. Fast forward to 2024 in Steingrímsfjörður, the team finally gets a good weather day in August and gets the drone up in the air. They fly the drone over some familiar whales: Angel and Vampire and then one of the drone pilots says, “goodness this is a super scarred up whale!”. Once back in the cabin the team found that the fluke in the drone video matched Mufasa. So, we got to see Mufasa again after 3 years!
Judith calls this whale Scarface, and she saw them for the first time in 2019. This whale stayed in Steingrímsfjörður for a long time that summer. She remembers one amazing trip with Scarface in 2019 where it breached over and over! She had not seen this whale since 2019 so it was a nice surprise to have Scarface back this year.
The team is still seeing Mufasa in Steingrímsfjörður this year and hopes that we will continue to do so for many years to come.
By Ellie Young
FIeld season has well and truly kicked off and unbelievably we are almost 2 weeks into the field season, in the westfjords back in our beloved cabin. Here is a little recap on what has happened so far.
Tom and Alyssa started the field season a little differently this year spending 2 weeks in the eastfjords for the whales of Finnafjörður project. Getting there was quite the adventure with some car issues in our beloved yellow van Savannah, the team got there 2 weeks later than expected with Tom getting stuck in Germany with a broken down van. Luckily fellow whale wise member Johanna was nearby and Tom managed to get the van in tip top condition to continue to Iceland. Despite the van issues the team still had a successful stint in the east scouting land based sites and making great contacts to continue our research there.
Next up was the Ocean Film Festival in Húsavík where the rest of the team met up. It was a great few days and with a really interesting range of films from adventure documentaries through Iceland’s rivers, to the weird and wonderful world of deep sea creatures. It was great to see so many people interested in learning more about our oceans and having engaging discussions after the movies, giving us all food for thought.
Once the film festival was over, Tom, Alyssa, Katie, Flo and I said our goodbyes to Húsavík and started the long drive to the Westfjords to Drangsnes, our home base for the field season to continue our Scars from Above project . On the way we had an amazing encounter with 3 humpback whales feeding very close to land. Many people had stopped at the side of the road to see these magnificent whales from their cars. Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t quite good enough for us to be able to drone so we said goodbye to the whales and continued our journey. Once we arrived at the cabin, we then had the mammoth task of unpacking the van and sorting all of the research equipment.
The first week in the cabin was a bit of a whirlwind. We had pretty mixed weather which wasn’t the best for droning. Very excitingly, local whale watching guide Judith from Laki Tours messaged us that there was a blue whale in the fjord so the team very quickly and excitedly got in the van to see it from land. It was quite far away but we were able to hear the blows from the whale and see it swimming through the fjord. A very rare sight here in Drangsnes.
The next day we had a big driving day to Ísafjörður to meet up with masters students Ben and Laura whilst droning where we could along the way. After leaving at 6am we were all pretty exhausted when we finally headed toward Drangsnes at 10pm, however, the day did not stop there as we saw some Killer Whales!! Another rare sighting in this fjord and to see them one day after seeing a blue whale was pretty crazy. We spent another 2 hours watching the pod, going incredibly far into the fjord, passing a feeding humpback along the way. There were 2 big males in the pod and it was incredibly exciting to see them. Even from land you can really appreciate the size of the male’s dorsal fin towering above the water. Finally at midnight the team was well and truly exhausted and headed to bed after an exciting couple of days.
Then it was time to head down to Reykjavik as Tom and Alyssa joined the National Geographic Lindblad ship, as visiting scientists to continue our research. We had a couple of hours to enjoy Reykjavik which mainly meant having good food and coffee (see Katie’s excitement after our bakery stop below). Sadly this also meant saying goodbye to Alyssa as she will be heading back to the US, and coming back later in the season.
That left the cabin team, Flo, Katie and I to continue our droning in Drangsnes. We have already managed to get aerial images of 12 whales, but unfortunately the weather hasn’t been the best and right now we’re in the middle of a storm which is going to last a few more days. We have been filling our days with yoga, computer work, celebrating Flo’s birthday and some nice walks. We even found a rather adorable baby duck on our last walk which thought that I was its parent for a while. So I guess I’m a bird mom now.
By Amelie Laute
What can you hear when you put your ears below the water surface? Is it loud or is it quiet? Maybe you can hear the sound of wind and waves. If it’s raining you can hear the water droplets hitting the surface. Maybe you can even hear the low rumbling when the earth is moving, during an earthquake or volcano eruption. Depending on where you are you may also hear some animals: dolphins whistling, fishing moaning, sea urchins scraping on the seafloor, or humpback whales singing. It’s never really quiet below the water surface. But since a few decades it’s becoming even louder… now you can often hear the sound of ships passing by, the bangs produced by construction work or the high frequency beeping of fish finders. Many of our human activities in and around the ocean produce noise that contributes to all the sounds underwater. We call all these sounds together the soundscape, like a landscape, but for sound. In our modern ocean you can barely find a place where human made noise doesn’t contribute to the soundscape. This contribution of noise can have effects on the animals relying on sound, for example for communication or navigation. If the sound is too loud or in a similar frequency, the signal of interest (e.g. a call from a conspecific or the movement of prey) can be masked. The animals can also perceive the sounds as a threat and try to move away, avoiding otherwise important feeding areas. For scientists, it is very difficult quantifying these changes due to anthropogenic activity because we don’t have data from the time before the human sounds were present. So we don’t know how exactly it sounded before, or how the animals were behaving differently.
Photo credit: Barba.no
In the Northeast of Iceland there is a remote fjord with currently very limited anthropogenic activity. The “Finnafjörður” is relatively pristine, only a few fishing vessels use the area once in a while and few large vessels pass in the distance. According to the locals, the fjord is regularly visited by a variety of animals, including many fish species, pods of dolphins, minkes, and humpback whales. There is no village on the coastline of Finnafjörður and only one small fishing village in the larger area, Bakkaflói. However, in some years this remote area is about to change drastically. A large port is supposed to be built in Finnafjörður, facilitating trading, servicing, and processing of raw materials of increasing numbers of ships passing through Arctic water as sea ice is melting more and more. Both the construction as well as the operation of such a port is likely going to result in a drastic change in the underwater soundscape of the region with potential effects on the local animals.
To understand and monitor how much the port changes the soundscape of Finnafjorður we have recorded the underwater soundscape for one year in 2021/22 while the fjord is still relatively pristine. We have now finally finished the analysis and could confirm our expectations. The region is indeed relatively quiet at the moment and has limited anthropogenic noise sources contributing to the soundscape. Let’s go into a little bit more detail of our results:
We have measured how loud the soundscape of the fjord is overall using a variety of different metrics to make our values as comparable as possible to other studies and regions globally. And we found that the fjord is relatively quiet, with loudest underwater sounds in winter when it’s stormy and quietest times in summer and fall. We also analysed the contribution of different sources of sounds. Once in a while we could detect vessel and fish finder sounds but they were relatively quiet and overall not dominant. We could occasionally hear dolphin whistles and fish grunts. During winter we were really excited to hear humpback whales singing nearly every day. Usually, humpback whales migrate to the tropics to breed and give birth, and this is where singing of male humpback whales is commonly observed. Since some years however song is documented more and more also in high-latitude feeding areas in winter. Are these whales too young to reproduce practicing singing without travelling the long distance? Or does singing have another purpose but reproductive display? There are many open questions, and we are therefore thrilled to have recorded singing humpbacks in the fjord. This definitely needs to be investigated further. But neither dolphins, fish, nor the singing humpbacks were very loud and didn’t dominate the soundscape of Finnafjörður. Instead, the loudest and most common sound detected was wind. Wind and rain. The sound of crushing waves due to wind and of water droplets hitting the surface were clearly dominating the soundscape of Finnafjörður. We also detected sounds that couldn’t be clearly identified, most of which were low rumbling sounds, likely geophonic (produced by non-living nature, e.g. moving earth, etc.). And a mysterious sound in spring. Between end-March and July every night there was this continuous low-frequency humming, like a vessel but much more constant in amplitude during all night. We have searched the literature and couldn’t find a similar sound documented elsewhere. We also asked the locals, but no one has an idea where the sound comes from. It sounds as if it’s made by some human activity but there is no machinery, vessel or anything in the fjord constantly during this time at all. Maybe some fishing buoys have a function that makes sound? We are still searching for the source of this mysterious rumbling…
To summarize, we found that Finnafjörður is relatively quiet. Apart from the weird unknown sound in spring the soundscape is mostly dominated by natural sounds, like from wind and rain. Animal sounds can be regularly detected but are relatively quiet.
So what? This means that the soundscape of the fjord is indeed relatively pristine. We are currently in the process of publishing our results. Before construction of the port starts the company has to make an environmental impact assessment (EIA), describing the region scientifically and informing management plans, for example how much care needs to be taken to limit the amount of noise produced. Our results can be implemented into this EIA, ensuring noise reduction during construction and operation is given enough importance by showing how pristine the fjord currently is and by documenting its use for certain animal species. Additionally, our results can be used later to monitor the changes in the soundscape and animal presence when the port is actually built. Documenting these changes can be used to inform future construction plans elsewhere and hopefully positively impact the anthropogenic footprint on underwater soundscapes.
So, are we done for now with this project? Not at all! This summer (mid-July) Whale Wise has deployed another hydrophone in Finnafjörður for a year. We want to make sure our results are general and not specific for 2021/22. We also want to investigate the winter song of humpback whales further and hopefully find out the source of the weird spring sound. Additionally, since only animals that make sounds and are close enough to the hydrophone can be recorded, and since the species making a sound sometimes cannot be clearly identified (e.g. many dolphin species sound similar), we also plan active field work in the Finnafjörður area. This July Tom and Alyssa have tested the idea and have spent many hours on the shore conducting scan samples, counting and documenting every whale seen. This helps to describe the presence of animals that cannot be detected on the hydrophone and to assign detected vocalizations to specific species. We intend to collect many more scan samples this winter and potentially next summer. So you will hear much more about exciting field stories from Finnafjörður later.
By Tom Grove
Why have one field season, when you can have two?!
Normally, a Whale Wise field season is focused around a single major research project; we are based in one location and may travel to other areas over the course of summer. We often conduct other research projects along the way, such as hydrophone deployments and testing drone noise, but they are not the primary driving force for running a months-long field season.
However, 2024 will be different. Lasting from June to October, our summer research campaign will be split into two quite distinct seasons in different areas, involving three major research projects. Two projects were already established in previous years and one is completely new in 2024. Let’s take a journey through our 2024 plans …
June–July: Whales of Finnafjörður
First, I want to transport you to the remote northeast of Iceland, and the small fjord of Finnafjörður. Rolling hills and wide-open landscapes slope down to coastlines filled with the sounds of seabirds. This area is beautiful in its desolation, one of the most remote parts of Iceland. Due to its location, there is limited scientific knowledge about whales in the wider area, but anecdotal observations suggest that this could be an important foraging ground for species such as humpback whales. This information (or lack thereof) is important because there are plans to build a large port in this small fjord in the coming years to serve trans-Arctic shipping. Port construction and ensuing vessel traffic could negatively impact whales in the area, but without information on species occurrence, distribution and habitat importance, we cannot take steps to limit these potential impacts.
To address these knowledge gaps, we are using acoustic and visual methods to better understand whales in the area. This started with a year-long hydrophone deployment in 2021-2022; Amelie has analysed these recordings for her master’s thesis and we can’t wait to share those results soon. Sound recordings are very important to assess whale occurrence and behaviour, but shouldn’t be used in isolation – they don’t give accurate information about the absence of whales (i.e., a whale might be present but not vocalising) and it’s often difficult to determine species and number of animals from these recordings.
Therefore, in 2024 we are combining acoustic and visual methods to record whale occurrence, diversity and distribution. Alyssa and Tom will conduct visual surveys around the port area for three weeks and deploy our hydrophone for another full year. We know that humpback whales frequent the wider area in summer and we can’t wait to see what other species we can find. For humpback whales, we will also attempt to collect fluke photos for photo-identification, in order to determine how humpbacks in this area are connected to other parts of Iceland and the north Atlantic.
Critically, we couldn’t do this work alone and we are thrilled to work alongside the local community to achieve this. We will be based at the nearby village of Bakkafjörður, with discounted accommodation provided by Northeast Travel – special thanks to Þórir Örn Jónsson. Þórir and other people from Bakkafjörður have helped us to choose field sites, frame research questions and get out to sea for hydrophone deployments. We are utterly grateful for their input and knowledge – working alongside local communities is critical to conduct this work in a fair and effective way.
July–October: heading west
After our ‘east’ field season, we head west for the next 10 weeks. On the way, we will spend a few days in Húsavík, where we will team up with Húsavík Whale Museum to run the annual film festival, Ocean Films Húsavík. Over two days (July 19th and 20th), we will showcase amazing ocean films from around the world. This is an open event and you can join us at the museum in person or watch the films online!
Straight after the film festival, the team heads to Drangsnes, our main field base for the last two seasons. From here, we will collect data for two projects, with four team members at a time. The first is Scars from Above, our main project since 2022. This is our third and final season of data collection for the project, which involves taking aerial images of humpback whales using drones. These images will be compared to boat-based images of tail stocks, primarily taken by our long-term collaborator Judith Scott, a whale-watching guide for Láki Tours. 2023 was our best season yet and we can’t wait to collect many more images this summer.
As part of Scars from Above, we have spent many hours watching and study whales in Ísafjarðardjúp, a large fjord system to the west of Drangsnes. Despite not being a well-known ‘whale hotspot’ for tourists visiting Iceland, this is actually an incredible area to see humpback whales, often feeding in large groups close to shore. We originally found out about the area through sighting reports on the ‘Iceland Whale Sightings’ Facebook group. Due to the increasing presence of whales, there is now a small whale-watching industry based out of Ísafjörður. Beyond this, levels of human activity are increasing in the area, from large-scale aquaculture (fish farms) to cruise ship traffic.
Since there had been limited scientific research in the area, we were interested in studying whale distribution, occurrence and behaviour in the area to inform possible conservation measures to protect this foraging habitat (such as rerouting vessel traffic where feasible). We discussed this with our connections in the area, including whale-watching companies and the University Centre of the Westfjords (all based in the town of Ísafjörður), as well as the University of Iceland. Together, we came up with a research project to improve our baseline understanding of humpback whales and other cetaceans in the area, called ‘Whales of Ísa’.
This project is centred around local partners. Two students from the Coastal and Marine Management Master’s programme at the university centre – Laura Lyall and Benedek Regoczi – will conduct their master’s thesis on the abundance and distribution of humpback whales throughout the fjord system. Laura will use photo-identification to determine how many whales use the area, and how long they stay for – key measures of habitat importance. Ben will use sighting surveys from land and vessels to map the distribution of whales – critical information to inform conservation measures. Brack Hale, academic director at the university centre, helped us to select students and led a successful grant application to provide summer salaries for Laura and Ben! Meanwhile, Filipa Samarra and Marianne Rasmussen from the University of Iceland (our longstanding collaborator) are co-supervising the thesis projects, alongside Tom and Alyssa from Whale Wise, and are additionally providing research equipment.
To inform this research and gain access to a vessel platform for research, we are working with two whale-watching companies – Sjóferðir (through owner Stígur Berg Sophusson) and Borea Adventures (through guide Justin Brown). Stígur has regularly shared his sightings for the last two years, and Justin was one of the first people to study whales in Ísafjarðardjúp, and our 2024 research will build directly on his master’s thesis. Laura and Ben will join their vessels throughout summer to collect photos and sightings data. Without the support of these local companies, the project simply wouldn’t take place – thank you both for sharing your knowledge and shaping the project’s direction.
From the research results of this project, we aim to produce a set of management recommendations which we can discuss and share with local communities and industry. We are grateful for the network of partners we have developed in Ísafjarðardjúp and we hope this is just the beginning of long-term monitoring, working with students and interns to better understand and protect the whales of the Westfjords.
During our busy Westfjords field season, we will continue with our engagement activities. Beyond social media and blogs, we will also run Whales on the Go after a successful 2023 trial – using our roadside research to engage passersby with whales and their conservation.
Thanks for reading about the 2024 season and stay tuned for exciting updates as the season progresses!
Written by Petr Slavik (ocean cover image by ©Petr Slavik)
A noisy, dusty abyss? Could such a deep place even matter to whales?
When we see or just think about large rorquals like the humpback or fin whale, for example, we hardly ever think about the deep-sea realm hidden underneath their surface pastures or migratory routes. No wonder that is the case! Baleen whales often simply do not have much to do in the big deep – most are surface feeders after all, migrating across large distances staying mainly in the surface waters up to 100 metres deep. There are of course moments when they need to utilize deeper waters say to avoid predators like orcas, or perhaps to search for alternative sources of food – that happens rather rarely, however. Then, why should whatever happens down in the deep sea have an impact on animals living up in the surface waters, kilometres away, vertically speaking, from the abyss? To answer that, believe it or not, we will have to go a bit deeper…
First, we need to ask the question: what is the deep sea in greater detail?
The deep sea or the deep ocean, if you like, generally begins where our ever-needed sunlight begins to diminish. We like to call this the twilight or mesopelagic zone, which more or less begins at 200 metres of depth, underneath the photic or epipelagic zone, which still receives enough sunlight to support photosynthetic organisms. We can observe photosynthesis even at depths greater than 200 metres, though you would see that the amount of sunlight that can penetrate greater depths rapidly decreases as we go deeper and deeper. Ultimately, we would not be able to find any more photosynthetic life at 1000 metres and deeper – instead, down there the life relies on food that sinks, in the form of deadfalls and marine snow, from the surface and the upper pelagic zones, or completely prioritises chemosynthesis. We therefore like to call this place the midnight or bathypelagic zone, which stretches to around 4000-metre depth. Beyond that, we would find only two more vertical zones, the abyssopelagic or abyssal zone, reaching a depth of around 6000 metres, and the hadalpelagic zone stretching to the almost unbelievable 11 kilometres of depth, which consists of the world’s deepest trenches, including the world’s deepest point the Challenger deep in the Pacific Ocean’s Mariana Trench. Overall, more than 70% of our planet is ocean, and to think more three-dimensionally, 90% of that ocean space is the deep sea (i.e. the ocean’s depth of 200-11,000 metres, at places). Isn’t that just mind-blowing? This ultimately makes the deep sea the most extensive habitat on Earth, which supports, perhaps surprisingly, rather high biodiversity.
©Petr Slavik; commercial fishing vessel
So, what’s the matter?
Now that we know a bit about what the deep sea is, let’s talk about the rather big, mysterious elephant in the room – being that the fact that the deep-sea biodiversity, as our shallow water life, is increasingly under threat from our activities.
While people become generally more aware of the threats our oceans face, particularly when it comes to coastal areas exposed to litter or the issues around over-fishing and climate change, we still tend to think that the seemingly distant and unexplored deep sea remains untouched. However, the reality is quite the opposite. Just fishing activities can reach depths of 2 kilometres. Deep-sea bottom trawling in particular has been found to cause widespread, long-term destruction to deep-sea environments globally, ultimately raising concerns about the conservation of fragile benthic habitats. Some oil and gas activities have been pushing into even deeper waters, raising concerns about their safety when operating at high-risk depths of up to even 3 kilometres deep. However, perhaps the biggest concern over the past few years has been raised by the dawn of a new industry – deep-sea mining – the industry currently taking its first steps to begin mining the seabed for deep-sea mineral resources, used for manufacturing most of our electronic devices, from mobile phones to electric car batteries. Yes, if you take your everyday phone apart, you would likely find a battery consisting of lithium – one of the metals, along with cobalt, nickel, copper, zinc and many other rare-earth metals that can be found in some of the deep-sea mineral depositories.
©Petr Slavik, Whale Wise
Could such deep-sea mining have an impact on shallow-dwelling cetaceans, however?
The simple answer is – yes, it certainly could. The reason behind it is that deep-sea mining involves a series of activities that can impact the quality of a given marine environment’s entire water column, on several different levels, from the seafloor to the surface.
Deep-sea mining, particularly that involving polymetallic nodule mining, will generally require a surface operation vessel, from which a collector vehicle will be deployed and tethered down to a seafloor of up to 5km deep. Mining these nodules, composed of various metals mentioned earlier, will produce two different types of plumes. One type will be produced by the collector vehicle collecting the nodules directly on the seafloor. The nodules are then sucked up from the collector vehicle to the surface vessel, bringing further plumes up from the seabed. These then need to be discharged either at the surface or the mid-water column, which ultimately brings fragments of the mined elements to an area where they simply do not belong.
Potential impacts from deep-sea mining: doi.org/10.1073/pnas.2011914117 ©Amanda Dillon from Drazen et al. 2020
Water-quality speaking, these discharge plumes, also known as dewatering plumes, can impact various life in the upper portion of the ocean water column, from fisheries to cetaceans. Individual animals facing these plumes may experience respiratory distress, reduced visual communication, buoyancy issues, or even toxicity in some cases where the dewatering plumes include large amounts of some of the earlier-mentioned trace metals. Particularly large baleen whales engulfing vast proportions of seawater to filter-feed will be exposed to potentially toxic amounts of trace metals. However, even smaller, toothed whales feeding on fish and larger prey could be at risk via biomagnification. Even visual predators like marine birds could potentially be at risk in areas with excess surface plume sediments.
Acoustically speaking, deep-sea mining will also produce noise pollution of high risk, particularly to highly acoustic species like cetaceans. This noise will be generally produced as the mined nodules are pumped up to the surface vessels via pipes made of materials that need to withstand high-pressure environments at great ocean depths. Deep-sea mining will also likely not involve only nodule-mining on the deep abyssal plains at depths up to 5km deep. Plans exist to also mine mid-ocean ridge areas and back-arc basins for massive sulphides, as well as seamounts for cobalt crusts, which are often found at depths of 1 to 3 km deep. This means that the noise sources will sometimes be even closer, vertically speaking, to areas where cetaceans aggregate to potentially feed, socialize and so on. However, overall, regardless of the water depth where deep-sea mining occurs, its noise levels will likely always reach cetaceans and other animals in the surface waters. Now, given that the deep-sea mining noise overlaps with the frequencies at which cetaceans communicate, it comes as no surprise these mammals will have to face auditory masking, and will likely be forced to change behaviour to avoid potential hearing injuries. Ultimately, this auditory distress can lead to reduced feeding and poorer fitness and potential changes in community composition of various cetacean species, or even costly emigration of populations to more acceptable areas. Worth mentioning are also some of the deep-diving-toothed whales like the beaked whales. These animals target great depths to search for deep-sea squid and fish. Encountering large noise sources causing auditory distress at those depths can then lead these extreme divers to premature, rushed surfacing and cause the so-called bends, or decompression sickness if you like.
Ultimately, not only cetaceans can be affected by poorly managed deep-sea mining. Including the obvious destruction of some of the seafloor habitats and their species by the direct contact of the collector vehicle with the seabed, there is a vast array of animal groups that could be at risk. From benthic suspension feeders like deep-sea sponges and sea cucumbers, which are highly vulnerable to excess sediments produced by the plumes discharge, to pelagic fish vulnerable to impaired chemoreception, needed for searching for food, by the very same excess sediment. Even some of the smallest critters could struggle, including various species of zooplankton, whose larvae may become disoriented due to the noise pollution when searching for suitable settlement areas using auditory cues. Potential light produced during the mining operation can also markedly disturb species that rely on bioluminescence to attract prey, defend themselves or communicate. This can all then have a cumulative impact on commercial fisheries, for example, and ultimately, via cascade-like effects, also human food security.
©Tom Grove, Whale Wise; bottlenose whales
Why is the issue so complex?
It is increasingly clear that poorly managed deep-sea mining will impact marine biodiversity likely across its entirety. Does it therefore mean we should completely rule this new deep-sea industry out; especially in light of our accelerating transition to renewable energy?
The United Nation’s 13th sustainable goal clearly states the urgent need to take action to combat climate change and its impacts. It therefore comes as no surprise that access to metals is the essence of supporting the transition to renewable sources for energy production. However, at the same time, the UN’s 15th sustainable goal states the need to protect and preserve terrestrial ecosystems via reversing land degradation and sustainable management of forests. The problem with this is that most current metal depositories, especially those including nickel, cobalt or manganese, for example, lay in largely forested areas of nations like Brazil, Indonesia, and some African countries. Unsurprisingly, these nations have been therefore losing large areas of forests, among other reasons, also due to mining for metals that are needed for the world’s decarbonization.
Is then deep-sea mining the ultimate solution?
Considering the above issues related to the impact of deep-sea mining on marine biodiversity, along with yet another UN sustainable goal, this time goal number 14, things become even more complex. The UN’s 14th goal clearly states the importance of conservation and the sustainable use of our oceans. However, considering the above deep-sea mining issues, it is clear that mining metals in the deep-sea also comes at a huge environmental cost, similarly as in the case of terrestrial environments, and therefore certainly is not the most straightforward solution to the ever more urgent UN’s 13th sustainable goal.
What are the prospects then?
While it remains unclear at what scale deep-sea mining will take place, it becomes increasingly evident that it will happen. The question that remains is how it will be done. In other words, there is no doubt that deep-sea mining has its role in supporting the world economy’s decarbonization and hence will likely take place at one level or another at various locations of the world’s oceans. However, there should equally be no doubt such deep-sea exploitation will need to be done with the utmost consideration of the marine environment and its vulnerable biodiversity.
More than ever, it is now important that site and project-specific environmental management through well-known environmental impact assessment, baseline assessment, environmental monitoring of vulnerable areas, as well as mitigation and environmental management planning, is established to identify and reduce potential impacts of future deep-sea mining. This is why no deep-sea mining activity should take place before sufficient baseline datasets about given environments and their biodiversity are collected and well used to inform relevant stakeholders and policy-making. It is equally crucial to not only consider the directly impacted marine fauna, like the seafloor species that are expected to be impacted the most but also fauna like pelagic fish and cetaceans that are perhaps not among the most obvious species vulnerable to deep-sea mining impact.
Finally, perhaps the most important consideration is to not rush this whole process of our understanding of the deep seas, our world’s last frontier. Because it is ultimately the rush to start the deep-sea mining that threatens marine biodiversity, people, and perhaps even the planet.
By Jessica Ward
The title quite literally sums up our whale and ocean themed yoga practice in Húsavík: come as you are, hop off the boat and join a yoga class! For the past two summers, as well as taking part in Whale Wise research field seasons, interning with the Húsavík Research Center, and guiding for North Sailing, I have been teaching yoga at the Húsavík Whale Museum. Starting as a very low-key practice, with a few of my intern friends in 2022 coming along to join my extremely small classes, I think I can happily say that yoga in Húsavík has blossomed! Merely as your guide, I hope those who joined continue to practice yoga, wherever you are, and you also remember to apply yoga philosophies off the mat too, in your careers, relationships and lives as a whole. I hope that, as I write, this marks just the beginning of whale and ocean yoga in Húsavík. May we continue to practice together whilst continuing to work to protect the lives of the beautiful whales that we know and love, the whales who are many of our reasons why: why we live in Húsavík, why we are studying and working, and often where we find a lot of our pure joy. So, now for a little more about our whale and ocean themed yoga practice and how it all began…
Before I started my quite whale-oriented lifestyle, and just after I graduated from my Bachelor’s, I decided to take my personal yoga practice to the next level and train to be a teacher. I never planned on teaching in Iceland (I was a very new teacher) but for anyone who has visited The Húsavík Whale Museum, I am sure you will agree, that it is such a little haven that radiates so much calm… I just couldn’t not consider using the space for yoga as well, and even better, for yoga dedicated to the whales and to the ocean, their home. Of course, so many people visit the town of Húsavík and the museum for the whales: for the inspiration, emotional perspective and pure magic that they provide. I wanted to hold a space where we could dedicate our thoughts to these majestic beings, whilst also moving our bodies and thanking the practice of yoga that has been earned over generations of existence and has travelled the globe (just like some of the whales have). So I chatted with Eva, the museum director who practices yoga herself, and we began regular yoga at the museum. Eva has been fundamental with helping the museum yoga come to light. It is also important to acknowledge the whole team of staff at the museum, for not only joining in with the yoga, but also helping massively before and after each class. And whilst I’m at it, I have to of course mention all the yogis that joined during those blissful summers. Whether you came for one class as you were passing through Húsavík or you were a regular: a researcher, a guide, a roommate, a flatmate, you worked in Húsavík seasonally, you worked in Húsavík full time… I loved having all of you and it was a pleasure to share my first experience teaching with you.
We would practice once or twice a week, usually upstairs in the museum, accompanied by underwater footage of a mother and calf humpback whale pair, gracefully swimming, feeding, existing, living… as they should. If the weather was not freezing, we would sometimes move our practice outside – we would quite literally do sun salutations against the sun, as the boats would come and go in and out of the harbour. Classes would be themed differently each week: for example, we might have a class dedicated to the topic of anti-whaling or anti-captivity, we might devote one practice to the white-beaked dolphins and the impact of the lunar cycle on their foraging behavior, or we might simply practice to the theme of love and acceptance. We would start with a small meditation, and then move through some vinyasa-style yoga (where poses are strongly linked to our breath and the mind–body connection is prioritised) with a still savasana (final resting pose) at the end, and finally finish with tea and chats about the theme of the class (and more!!). One of my favourite classes would be the special pride-themed classes each June. After all, homosexuality is not limited to the human species, and has been recorded in cetaceans too (quite recently in male humpback whales in fact)! We would come together, move together and feel immense gratitude for the small town of Húsavík, where queer people are especially accepted, something we will have to keep fighting for around the rest of the globe. We will keep celebrating pride (in the form of yoga and more) until the rest of the world catches up with Húsavík, a beautiful corner of the world where the whales and dolphins live and visit, you can feel a strong connection with the ocean and the natural elements, and you can feel warmly welcomed to come as your own authentic self. If you are reading this, and you haven’t visited Húsavík already… you must, and join a yoga class whilst you’re at it! Off the boat and on to the mat. I hope to see you there
I have always found storytelling fascinating.
A person’s ability to transport you somewhere else, immerse you into an entirely different world, without you even realising what has happened. Technically, really powerful storytelling is a type of illusion, which is also why you also have to be so careful in how you use it.
For me, although one of my favourite things in life is being out in the field as a scientist, I also love sharing the stories that nature and science have to offer. I am definitely not a professional filmmaker, but over the years I have loved making short and feature length films about the whale research that I have been part of. This love for finding stories and video editing, made their humble beginnings when my high school friends and I would make music videos to pre-existing songs. They were primarily to Taylor Swift songs, and they were awesome.
Nearly as much as I love creating my own work, I also love seeing others’. Short videos and documentaries can be incredibly powerful for sharing conservation messages and improving our connection to nature. It is critical that we keep sharing one another’s stories, and so I wondered if it would be possible to start up our own film festival. A few days later, I contacted Eva, director of the Húsavík Whale Museum, who has helped us A LOT with previous events, and asked if they would be interested in partnering up to create an ocean-themed film festival in Iceland. She immediately said yes, and from there we began planning all the logistics involved.
We selected a name, made a logo, set up a Filmfreeway site for people to submit films and started sharing and promoting the event as much as possible.
Since we began four years ago, every year has been an improvement – for both the quality of the films and number of people attending the festival.
If you are interested in submitting to the Ocean Films Húsavík 2024 festival – you can do so now here! The deadline for 2024 submissions is March 1st, 2024.
FILM CATEGORIES:
- International (short and feature)
- Nordic (short and feature)
- Student
FESTIVAL DATES: July 19th – 20th, 2024
Location TBD
If you have any questions about the festival, do not hesitate to reach out to info@whalewise.org
A huge thank you to everyone who has shared their films this year and previous years – the festival would not be possible without you!
