The Not So Tender World of Whale Courtship
A mother humpback whale pushes her newborn calf to the side, keeping it above her head, as she fends off two adult males looking to mate. Hopped up on hormones, the adult males patrol the coastline off the island of Rurutu looking for females in heat. Humpback whales do not mate yearly, as raising calves takes a significant amount of energy. Instead, females tend to mate every two to four years. The males’ urge to mate may present danger to a young calf, as accidental drownings have been recorded.
Rurutu, French Polynesia.
This September, I spent a month free diving off the coast of the Austral Islands in southern French Polynesia to document humpback whales during their annual winter migration. The 30-ton, 13-metre long whales make this 8,000 kilometre trek from their feeding grounds off the Antarctic Peninsula in order to give birth, raise their newborn calves and mate.
Unlike the tropical, palm-fringed, blue lagoon islands conjured up in Tahiti tourism campaigns, the remote Austral Archipelago consists of windy, conifer-speckled raised atolls widely separated across vast swathes of dark blue ocean. These islands, with their shallow fringing reefs, provide a refuge for humpback whales looking to give birth in relative isolation away from orcas, false killer whales and white sharks.
Polynesia’s warm water also allows the new mothers to rest and conserve their energy. While the calves feed off of their mothers’ milk, gaining over one hundred pounds a day on this fat-rich diet, adult whales do not feed during their four-month stay in the tropics. Rather, they live off their blubber reserves, built up from feeding on krill blooms in Antarctica.
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A baby whale twists and dives at the surface next to its mother. For the first few weeks of a newborn’s life, it stays above its mother’s head, as the mother must help it breathe. As it grows, it becomes increasingly independent, visiting the surface on its own and swimming freely, but never far from mother’s watch.
The crystal clear waters of the Australs create an ideal staging ground for observation.
Throughout the season, I followed six newborns and their mothers, often giving the babies nicknames so I could more easily recognize them— “two-hole,” “HI lines,” “black belly”— referring to a physical characteristic on the baby. Since the babies can regularly be seen cuddling up under their mothers’ chin or on top of their head, physical contact is common. The babies are covered by scratches and marks on their skin.
It is not just pregnant females that make the trek over to the tropics, both adult and juvenile males arrive in droves as well, each eager to learn the art of mating, regardless of how into it the females are.
As I was to quickly learn, nearly all of the documentation I would be doing involved some combination of pregnant whales, newborns, and horny males hopped up on hormones looking to get with any female they could find. Far from the peaceful and gentle behaviour these whales normally exhibit, when in pursuit of a mate, it can get aggressive out there.
A group of three adult males play with each other in deeper water. Tail thrashing, bumping, fin slaps, twisting and blowing bubbles from their air holes underwater was a common occurrence. These three males were highly interactive with me, as they made several passes to play and observe.
I’ve spent the last four calving seasons documenting the humpback whales of the South Pacific, and this year was definitely one of the wildest years out there, specifically for one reason— the large number of sex-driven males looking to impregnate females already carrying newborns. The males this season were so intent on mating, that they would stop at nothing to escort, pair up with, or otherwise pursue the females around the island, no matter what the cost.
In the world of whales, humpback males are all potential rivals. While females rarely spend much time together, it is common to see a single dominant male escort accompanying a female who is either pregnant or has recently given birth. While these “escort whales” serve as protectors, they are not as selfless as the name may have you believe. Escort whales are generally interested in one thing— mating if and when the opportunity arises.
Throughout my stay documenting the six pairs of moms and calves, escorts would change regularly, as new males would seek to overthrow escorts already attached to a female. Sometimes a female would end up with two escorts, one senior and one junior. In fact, the only time I actually observed a humpback whale penis was when I was trailing a large black-bellied escort whale. The two-metre penis is normally concealed inside the animal's genital slit, and once extended looks like a squiggly, white snake, dangling flaccidly in the ocean current.
A mother with her newborn calf is accompanied by a large male escort whale. The escort whales are not the fathers of the newborns, rather, social pods between whales do not typically last into the next calving season and the escorts are unrelated to the females or calves. Escorts normally attempt to mate with females as well as fend off any potential rivals and suitors.
Over time, I noticed the escort-to-mother relationship was a lot more complex than I had thought. Originally, I saw the escorts as nuisances, but as I watched escorts go to battle with new suitors to protect their females, I began to see why they were so important. On three occasions, I witnessed a group of males, ranging from two to five individuals, attack moms with their newborns.
The males would seek to separate the baby from its mother in order to mate with her. The mothers would fend off this violence at all costs, lifting their baby onto their head to make sure it was able to breathe. According to islanders, babies have been accidentally drowned in the past from being pushed underwater by competitive male suitors.
The males were relentless, chasing the mother from all sides and cutting her off, bumping her on the side and attempting to cut the calf off from the mother. Humpbacks are incredibly agile swimmers, and despite their size, they have insanely good body coordination and spatial recognition. The mother would push her baby onto the side of her head where I was located, knowing that the males would not attack from where the human was swimming.
I locked eyes with her and for a few minutes, I felt like we had a connection. We both understood the situation; the mother needed help and she was visibly worried about her calf. I wanted to tell her I understood, as the two males continued to lunge onto her back. She pushed the baby closer to me, so close I could reach out and touch its snout if I wanted to. But I didn’t. I had no desire to cause the mother any more stress than she was already under. I observed, rather helplessly, as she continued to fight off their advances. Even a month-old calf weighs well over a ton and is 3-4 metres long.
Top left: A mother humpback pushes her baby to the surface by lifting it on her head, while two male suitors attack from behind. The mother is concerned that the males may separate and accidentally drown the baby while they pursue her. She works hard to keep the baby on her head while outmaneuvering the males.
Top right: After diving to a depth around five metres, the mother and baby dodge a fast-approaching male suitor. A second suitor can be seen behind her. The suitor turns to double back on the mother.
Top left: A large male suitor swoops in on a female with her newborn calf. Curious to see the human, the male made a pass at me once, before refocusing his efforts on the female and her calf.
Top right: A male suitor can be seen below the female blowing bubbles into the water. Bubbles are used to show aggression and excitement, as the males chase and compete for the female. However, a female with a newborn calf does not typically mate, as they normally only have babies every two to four years, as opposed to yearly. The gestation period for humpback whales is approximately 11 months.
After about forty-five minutes of dancing, thrashing, lunging and outmaneuvering, the males had tired of the mother and continued on their way in search of new females to approach. The water had become murky with bubbles caused by their tail slaps and body thrashes at the surface, but the mother looks relieved.
She stayed with me, just floating just below the surface, as the calf rested just above her head. It’s hard to describe the feeling that overcomes you when you lock eyes with a whale. Her baseball-sized eye looking right into mine. It’s an extremely powerful feeling.
This mother was clearly experienced at dealing with the males, and her experience really showed in how she handled and outmaneuvered the suitors. It was clearly not her first rodeo. As they left, tranquillity returned to the seas and the bubbles dispersed, bringing back near fifty-metre visibility.
Top left: A mother and her calf enjoy a moment of tranquillity near the surface. The calf just dropped its head back into the water after taking a breath of air.
Top centre: A mother humpback pushes her calf to the surface on the side of her head, while twisting her body to fend off an attack from two male suitors. Humpback whales can bend and twist their ribs, allowing them a great degree of flexibility and agility in the water, despite their massive size.
Top right: A calf swims just above its mother’s head, as the gently rests in the clear water.
While I was not actually able to observe a whale give birth, I followed an extremely pregnant female with a protective male escort for several days. The escort would only let me observe from a distance, swimming gently in the water about thirty metres away from the pregnant whale. She was enormous, and her belly was so big that she was not able to swim horizontally in the water, and instead was positioned vertically, with her head poking slightly outside of the water.
After a couple of days of not seeing her, I found her again, this time with a newborn calf, and the same male escort below. The first couple of weeks of a whale’s life are very sensitive for new mothers, and they are extremely protective over the calves. The mothers have to keep the newborns on their heads to help them breathe. Babies have to come up for air much more often than adults, surfacing every 3-5 minutes, as opposed to every 10-20 minutes.
As they grow older, they become increasingly independent from their mothers, swimming on their own to the surface and playing, yet they never stray far. For the first year of a whale’s life, they are dependant on their mothers for protection, socializing and of course food.
After building trust with the mothers, many of them allowed me to become a pseudo babysitter for the calf. The calves are naturally extremely curious and many times love to swim and dance at the surface. Since they return more often to breathe, humans provide a good distraction for the calf to play with, while mom sleeps about ten to fifteen metres below. As long as mom is cool with it, a calf interaction can last for hours.
Of course, this tranquillity can be easily ruined by a group of males prowling the water for females, or by sudden movements from the human swimmers. Whales are graceful and gentle swimmers, and your actions should attempt to slowly match theirs for a successful interaction.
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A young calf looks right at me while playing at the surface. If trust has been successfully built up with the mother, a calf may stick around and play for hours, as the mom rests below. Babies are born around 10 feet long and weighing about 1,500 pounds. They will continue to gain about 100 pounds a day from drinking their mother’s milk for the first year of their lives.
One of the most insane mating rituals that humpback whales engage in is the “heat run.” This occurs when larger pods of males jostle and fight for position behind a female in heat. Most of the heat runs I encountered have lasted for hours, if not into the next day, with new whales joining and some dropping off to later rejoin the group.
The males stay close to the surface to oxygenate their blood, as they bump each other, thrash their tails, and blow bubbles in a sign of dominance and strength. It’s not uncommon for the whales to get scraped and bloodied during a heat run, as barnacles from their fins and bellies scrape against other whales’ backs and dorsal fins.
Many times, the female would disappear altogether, but the males would continue to race and compete, learning essential skills for their development, including whales that have not yet reached sexual maturity.
Diving into a heat run is a wild experience, as the whales are entirely preoccupied with each other, yet still aware of my presence and would make slight adjustments to their swimming to avoid bumping into me. Thirty tons of whale is a lot to take on, especially as they fly by like buses on a highway.
In the world of whale courtship, size does matter, after all, as they compete based on dominance and strength for mating rights.
Six males pursue a female during a heat run off the Austral Islands in French Polynesia. The female leads them on a chase, as the males bump, lunge and knock each other around to vie for a better position near the female in heat.
When under threat, even from other whales, mothers scoop their babies up using their heads and lift them to the surface. This is to ensure that that baby is always able to breathe. Calves have to breathe more frequently than adults, as their lung capacity is not as large, returning to the surface at least three to four times more often than a full-sized whale.
While most of the sexual interactions I’ve been able to document have been certainly nonconsensual, if not downright violent, not all whale courtship is rapey.
I’ve seen some of the more beautiful elements of mating. Something unique to baleen whales is the male whale song. I’ve been asked on many occasions if a human ear can actually hear them, and my response is that whales produce the loudest audible sounds of any animal. The whale song is so loud that if you dive on a singing whale your entire chest cavity vibrates.
When males sing, they typically position themselves nearby females or completely solo, with their heads positioned vertically below their tail. Unlike human vocal cords, baleen whales have more complex structures that join onto special sacs that line their throat. Air can be moved between these sacs and the lungs, allowing whales to sing without losing air. While both males and females can produce grunts and noise, only the males produce complex, repetitive songs.
They can sing for hours on end, with the same complex song repeated over and over again. I’m not exactly sure if the whale song is there to attract females or ward off male challengers, but like many of the activities associated with calving season, it is likely related to mating.
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In a separate instance, two males approach a female and her calf. This time, however, they did not attempt to mate with the female. Rather, they stayed in a pod for a couple of hours interacting gently with each other before the males moved on to join another group of males.
Genuine whale couples do seem to exist. I’ve seen several male-female pairs dance together deep in the water, slowly mirroring each other’s movements, resting below the surface for around twenty minutes and then moving positions slightly each time they resurface to breathe. They are incredibly graceful, like dancers following each other in courtship.
However, there is no denying that much of the interactions I was able to document over my month in the water were aggressive. Humpbacks are an incredible species to observe and interact with, and as long as they don’t want to mate with you, the experience documenting their behaviour is one of the most special experiences I have ever had.
