Somewhere In The North Atlantic

The Humpbacks swam through the cold North Atlantic waters. They had spent the summer feeding on krill and small fish that thrive in these cold waters. As the days were beginning to grow shorter, the massive bull was preparing to lead the pod south some 2,000 miles to their winter haven for breeding and calving. But first they would spend the next week or two stuffing themselves on the remaining available food.

The massive bull was completing his twenty fifth summer in these Arctic waters. Now longer than 55 feet and weighing in excess of 60 tons, he was by Humpback standards enormous. Truly a leviathan of the sea. He had led his pod, the two females with nursing young and the young male in his third year, north in May, reaching the Arctic Circle just after the polar ice had broken up in June. Their time in the frigid waters had been pleasant. Food had been plentiful, the seas calm, and few sharks or Orca whales to threaten the calves. It had truly been an idyllic summer for the whales. He had spent a lot of time with his son explaining and showing him how to survive, because next summer he would be on his own. Come next spring, he would not permit his son to travel with the pod. He would have to migrate on his own. It was the way of the whale.

They swam at a leisurely three miles an hour along the surface. It was a calm, quiet, relaxing day. As they swam and their heads exited the water, they exhaled through their blowholes, clearing their massive lungs in preparation for inhaling fresh air. Their bushy blow occurred at such a rapid rate, that it sprayed a white mist 8 to 12 feet into the air. On a clear, calm day this blow could be seen two miles away.