Arctic Kingdom: Life at the Edge Page #2

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It's June. A hundred miles

from the island

a fleet of white whales has arrived

at the ice edge

belugas hunting for cod

The sea is suddenly alive with sound

This chirping

white chorus emerges

from feeding grounds beneath

the frozen sea

like a gathering of polar ghosts

With no dorsal fin to impede

their icy travels

these are true Arctic whales

The belugas' rich symphony

of sounds hints

at the complexity of their lives

Their sonar may be the most

sophisticated of any whale

Navigating under miles of ice

they bounce clicks off shifting floes

using a kind of "sound imaging"

to master their world

Their melodies pulse from

their rounded foreheads

the frequencies fine tuned

like a focused beam of light

piercing the blue depths

The bonds between them are strong

A mother and calf will swim side

by side for three years

Shadowy gray at birth

they only gradually turn as perfectly

white as the surrounding ice

The sun is riding high now

Strong winds from the open sea

unleash their power against the ice

Beaten by wind and wave

weakened by sun and current

the ice fractures and begins

to split apart

Immense cracks open behind the

leading edge of the ice

These "leads" extend for miles

opening up new feeding areas

and hunting grounds

The Inuit are experts at navigating

the tricky ice fields of spring

It's a skill born of necessity

of the ancient

need to hunt on this

ever changing surface

Olyuk knows how to read the ice

Still

men and machines are sometimes lost

In the old days

entire hunting parties could

disappear without a trace

They are now sixty miles from home

They are hoping the trip will end

in a successful hunt

but it may take days

Not far away, one of the most

aggressive animals

in the Arctic hauls out to rest

adult walruses

heavily armored with tusks

and skin that is one inch thick

Their skulls are massive

and backed by a body weighing

one ton

they can bash through nine

inches of ice

Out of the water

their only enemies are polar bears

and human hunters

The walrus feed on vast beds of

clams buried 200 feet below

in the muddy sea floor

Each one can eat thousands of

clams in a single meal

And the mud harbors less obvious

but just as deadly predators

A carnivorous snail begins a slow

methodical attack

It smells the clam hiding in the mud

and tries to penetrate the tightly

closed shell

But the clam can defend itself

with a strong kick from

its single foot

Even stranger creatures patrol

the dark ooze

They thrive in the near freezing

waters of the Arctic feeding

on the remains of the dead

...and on each other

Overhead, the surface is warming up

Frozen salt water melts first

and from deep inside the ice

salty brine begins to drain away

Plumes of super cool

salty liquid spill downward out

of holes in the ice

freezing the waters just beneath

Hollow stalactites build up around

the draining brine

some reaching three feet in length

The waves continue to hammer

at the ice

and the edge gives way under

the relentless assault

Wind and strong currents push

ice floes together

Massive blocks pile up and

over each other

building miniature mountain ranges

In the wake of the shifting ice

giants come to fee

The bowhead whale is named

for its great curving jaw

A favorite target of whalers

it has never recovered from

two centuries of slaughter

Numbering only in the hundreds

bowheads in the eastern Arctic

make their last stand

Reaching 60 feet in length

it's the largest animal

in the Arctic seas

Yet the bowhead comes to

feed on the smallest

Energized by the touch of the sun

the depths now pulse with millions

of minute animals

They seem electrified

their transparent bodies glimmer

with iridescent light

More liquid than solid

these delicate drifters are

miracles of survival

wrapped in enchanting beauty

But to live here, they must also kill

A jelly trails its long tentacles

snaring a copepod

then reeling it in to its death

These tiny hunters float in a world

of their own

unaware of the leviathan that could

devour their entire universe

The bowhead sweeps through the water

like a living trawl net

Between the cavernous jaws

dark sheets called baleen filter

the water

collecting thousands of

small creatures

Its enormous white tongue will

scrape the baleen clean

harvesting the sea one giant

mouthful at a time

The sun is winning control of the ice

and the surface pools with melt water

Temperatures now reach a balmy

Dripping water measures the

fleeting season

the sound of summer ticking away

Fresh leads break into the

remaining ice

The Arctic's most intriguing creature

moves in from the sea

The narwhal - with its ivory tusk

a living tooth up to ten feet long

The whales converge along

the narrow highway

This is what Olyuk has been

looking for

Hunting is at the heart of

Inuit culture

a way of life and a skill still

passed down from father to son

It's a proud link to the past

and the only way to live off the

land in the Arctic

Today, the Inuit are still allowed

to hunt whales

but their take is strictly controlled

Yet Olyuk remembers the not

so distant days

when hunting meant the difference

between life and death

They have landed a female only males

have a tusk

Whale skin is especially nutritious

high in vitamin C

Without such a diet

the Inuit would have suffered

from the scurvy

which plagued many Arctic expeditions

Eaten raw, it's a delicacy

called "muktuk."

In the still twilight of midnight

the narwhals joust a slow

stately ritual of mythic beasts

The purpose of their strange single

tusk remains a mystery

Like the peacock's tail and

the lion's mane

it may serve as a banner of

male prowess

It could be a weapon

But it's the stuff of legend

In the Middle Ages

the tusks were sold as unicorn horns

for ten times their weight in gold

The sea ice is flooded now

although beneath the water

the ice is still several feet thick

Out on the melting surface

an abandoned ringed seal has

lost her bearings

She has wandered away from

her breathing hole

and cannot find her way back

Now, she is trapped above the ice an

easy target

for a hungry polar bear

And if she cannot return to

the sea beneath her

she will starve

The young seal is now exhausted

but luck finally leads her to a hole

in the ice

She is safe, but now she's in

unknown territory

a long way from her familiar network

of breathing holes

She won't stray far for a while

All around her the ice is changing

The pasture of algae

that once blanketed the surface has

sloughed off

and joined together in flowing

ribbons of green

Long tendrils reach out to

absorb light

and nutrients from the

passing currents

A new lead has opened in the ice

and a pod of narwhals comes

streaming into the crack

They usually travel in small numbers

but when fishing is good

hundreds may come together

As they enter the crack

these specialized hunters

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