It was the little cries of the dying young ones that hit me hardest.
The sound is hard to describe – like a high-pitched squeak, a forlorn whistle amid the noise of breaking waves.
For many hours, the distressed baby pilot whales on Western Australia’s south coast made their cries. I am not sure I will forget the sound.
WARNING: VIDEO CONTAINS DISTRESSING FOOTAGE
Almost 100 long-finned cetaceans had stranded themselves on the sloping shores of Cheynes beach, 60km east of Albany, at sunset on Tuesday.
The following morning, by the time this reporter had arrived from Perth some 500km away, 51 whales – both young and old – had already died and were being removed by a tractor. The surviving members of the pod were being pulled back out into the chilly waters of the Great Australian Bight.
A marathon effort was under way to keep the mammals afloat – some 4 metres long and weighing up to 1,000kg. They needed to stay off the beach.
Without the buoyancy offered by being in water, pilot whales are too heavy for their own bodies. Their organs were being crushed as they lay on the shore overnight, and being on the beach also risked overheating.
The first few people who had arrived within minutes of the stranding on Tuesday had done all they could but they were no match for the weight and number of pilot whales. There was also the risk of considerable danger.
John Edwards, WA’s Department of Biodiversity Conservation and Attractions senior marine operations officer, warned that predators such as sharks often follow distressed pods, and the risk of attack was too big as night fell on Tuesday. But even then some remained waist-deep in the waves.
Hours after I arrived on Wednesday I knew that despite being there to report I was also there to help. I had my wetsuit and I joined in with the rescue.
I stood holding, patting and marvelling at these giant black creatures. Smooth like a plum and covered in scars from their time living among sharks, they were strong yet somehow gentle.
Looking around me it was obvious that these creatures were not well. Many appeared distressed and were at risk of drowning from water in their blowholes as they rolled. I could hear the babies calling out and I can still picture their green poo floating in the water. Many of the volunteers working among the pod had been tagged with pink ribbons, signalling the whale they were looking after was too weak and potentially needed to be removed to give the group its best chance of survival.
Murdoch University marine biologist Dr Joshua Smith told me that pilot whales are a tight-knit bunch who are extremely socially gregarious and stick in family groups, staying together in a crisis.
Sometimes this would be their strength – but for now this social glue may have been what caused the whole pod to come unstuck.
Out in the water, the sea was feet-numbingly cold and the waves choppy. The whales, which are technically large dolphins, would splash and trip me up with their huge tails. Their blowholes puffed welcome warm air into my face.
At times, the whale I fought to hold upright with volunteer Colleen Smetham, would roll. We tried to stop it, but couldn’t compete against its strength.
As it would roll, it would look straight at me and then shut its eye to the bright light of the sun.
As another day at Cheynes beach was drawing to a close, officials made the call to try to herd the pod out to sea. We couldn’t stay in the water forever.
I knew they would turn back as soon as the decision to release was made. For whatever reason, the pilot whales just didn’t want to go.
Surrounded by paddleboarders and boats, the volunteers pushed the creatures away and tried to move back. I, too, slapped the water hard to scare the pack away from us.
But within the hour, the whales were thrashing around back in the shallows. They were not going to make it.
When Edwards told me he was growing fearful of a shark attack, I left for shore. I had tried, but it hadn’t worked. I was cold. I had to stop.
When I returned to the beach at about 6pm, the sun had faded and the same volunteers were pulling the same tired animals back away from the shallow shore and on to the beach.
I had spoken to many people on the beach that day. All wanted to help, all were filled with hope and all were heartbroken by the tragic end to the day.
The words of Smith rang in my ears that evening. As our oceans warm and currents change, species such as pilot whales will be affected.
“Climate change can impact the prey species, their distribution and abundance, which can impact the body condition of whales if they can’t find enough food. It may even lead animals to migrate to a new area where they can get stranded,” he said.
There was no evidence that these pilot whales were in poor condition and Smith points out that whales have been stranding well before humans impacted the environment.
The veterinarians on Cheynes beach and the DBCA officers have used this stranding to gather vital blood and samples from the stricken animals to hopefully find clues to what caused this event.
The valuable research opportunity was little comfort to upset volunteers who were still helping keep the pilot whales comfortable by pouring water over them to the tune of crying calves.
That evening, the decision was made to euthanise the remainder of the pod, to avoid prolonging their suffering.
At the nearby caravan park, the cold night wind carried the clear sounds of gunshots from the beach. There were many and my heart broke for the veterinarians with the horrendous and humane job.
By Thursday morning, the beach had been cleared. A few lifeless pilot whales lay off in the distance, waiting to be removed and taken to the local Albany tip.
