The Qikiqtani Inuit Association should have addressed environmental concerns with a large mine expansion project on Baffin Island before it inked a benefits deal with the owner, according to a joint letter signed by mayors of five Inuit communities and chairs of local hunters and trappers organizations.

Baffinland Iron Mines wants to double iron ore production at its Mary River Mine on north Baffin Island under a second phase of development, which is being assessed by the Nunavut Impact Review Board. After months of delays due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the signing of the deal led the board to restart hearings. A pre-hearing conference wrapped up this week and the review board has yet to set a date for the final hearings.

The Qikiqtani Inuit Association, which is landlord of the Qikiqtaaluk Region and allows Baffinland to operate there through a commercial lease, signed the Inuit Certainty Agreement with the company on June 16. The agreement outlines benefits to the communities — such as Inuit employment and environmental monitoring efforts — throughout the mine’s life of about 21 years.

But leaders of hamlets and hunting organizations say the Qikiqtani Inuit Association, which represents 15,000 Inuit, signed the agreement prematurely and overlooked community concerns.

Louie Primo, senior administrative officer of Sanirajak (Hall Beach), told The Narwhal it doesn’t make sense to establish benefits with communities that remain concerned about environmental damage that could result from an expanded mine. “It doesn’t really resolve anything,” he said.

The joint letter, dated Aug. 29, was signed by representatives from Sanirajak, Pond Inlet, Igloolik, Arctic Bay and Clyde River.

The letter states that by inking the agreement, the association “has demonstrated a particular interest in the outcome of the hearing process and has a particular bias that must be balanced by a fair and complete consideration of all issues and concerns.” 

The letter goes on to state that the agreement was put together “without meaningful input from our organizations” and the communities plan to adequately address possible impacts during the assessment process. 

“We respectfully reserve the right to determine agreement with the project based on our own findings; separately and distinct from the ICA and the association’s determination.”

A spokesperson with the association declined to comment, stating that the organization is currently involved in meeting with affected communities.

Letter to Qikiqtani Inuit Association about Inuit Certainty Agreement with Baffinland by The Narwhal on Scribd

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Minister of Northern Affairs urged review board to restart process

Technical meetings, community roundtables and hearings about the Mary River expansion project have been rocky, stopping and starting for almost a year. In March, hearings were cancelled due to the COVID-19 pandemic, which limited both travel and public gatherings. They were rescheduled to be held virtually, but were cancelled due to concerns from intervenors that some people might not be able to participate in that format. 

Almost one month after the certainty agreement was signed, Dan Vandal, minister of Northern Affairs, urged the review board to reboot the review process. 

In a July 10 letter to the review board, he said “it is appropriate to recommence the formal reconsideration at this time” on the grounds that the Inuit Certainty Agreement was signed and both Baffinland and the Qikiqtani Inuit Association had requested it move ahead. 

He further justified this recommendation by citing a section of the Nunavut Planning and Project Assessment Act, which states: “The responsible minister may indicate to the board that a review or a reconsideration of terms and conditions is a priority in relation to other reviews or reconsiderations and may propose a reasonable period within which it must be completed.”

The minister’s letter makes no mention of other projects over which to prioritize, and the hearing was not postponed due to any conflicting projects.  

An ore stockpile at the port in Milne Inlet, Nunavut. Photo: Baffinland

Mélanie Mellon, a spokesperson with Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern Affairs, said the Inuit Certainty Agreement “is a sign of progress, however decisions about the next steps in the Phase 2 reconsideration process are the board’s responsibility.” 

With the easing of public health restrictions, the review board scheduled a blend of pre-hearing teleconferences, in-person meetings and video conferences between Aug. 31 and Oct. 1, according to a July 29 letter from Karen Costello, executive director of the review board to interested parties. 

“The board has concluded that modifications and new approaches are necessary because an indefinite suspension of the board’s usual in-person proceedings to await a return to normal is unacceptable,” it says.

Once the hearing process is complete, the review board will issue a recommendation to the federal government on whether or not to allow the expansion project to go forward.

A spokesperson for Baffinland didn’t return a request for comment prior to publication.

Concerns around Baffinland’s expansion plans

Baffinland is permitted to ship six million tonnes of iron ore from its port on Milne Inlet, just west of the community of Pond Inlet, located on Eclipse Sound. The company wants to increase production up to 12 million tonnes of iron ore per year and construct a 110-kilometre railway to move that ore from mine to port (it currently uses a tote road).

If the expansion is approved, the number of annual voyages by ore carriers would more than double, from 81 in 2019 to 176. 

Community representatives and environmental groups remain concerned about what increased ship traffic could do to sensitive habitats and the marine mammals that rely on them to survive. These concerns were also raised by the Government of Greenland. Earlier this year, the Government of Canada affirmed the Kingdom of Denmark’s right to be part of the expansion project’s assessment due to potential transboundary impacts.

“Overall, the transportation of the iron ore in the Mary River project must be considered one of the greatest threats to marine mammals in the Arctic,” Greenland’s Directorate for the Environment and Nature said in a memo included in a February letter from Denmark to the Canadian government, adding that there are risks of oil spills and collisions with whales. 

Greenland’s memo also noted that ice breaking and ship traffic could affect the habitat of seals, walruses and whales, noting that bowhead whales are just returning to the area after virtually disappearing for 100 years.

The region is particularly important to narwhals, with Eclipse Sound, which Milne Inlet opens into, being home to 10 per cent of the world’s population of the species, the memo said. 

If Baffinland’s proposed plan goes ahead, noise created by ships could permanently prevent narwhals from feeding in the area, it said. 

Greenland has raise concerns about the impacts of shipping on narwhals. Eclipse Sound, which Milne Inlet opens into, is home to about 10 per cent of the world’s population of the species, according to a memo submitted by Greenland. Photo: Baffinland

Dollars and commitments outlined in Inuit Certainty Agreement

The Inuit Certainty Agreement includes environmental protection, employment and compensation for wildlife loss. Most benefits — such as a country food study and Inuit-led monitoring program — would be bankrolled by Baffinland, including $3 million for childcare infrastructure in the five affected communities and the extension of a program that offers $400,000 per year for fuel for Pond Inlet harvesters for the remainder of the mine’s life.

Neither Baffinland nor the Qikiqtani Inuit Association would provide The Narwhal with a total dollar figure for the agreement. 

“As a transparent Inuit organization, QIA will release and discuss financial matters pertaining to the ICA with its board and impacted communities,” Sima Sahar Zerehi, a spokesperson for the association, wrote in an email to The Narwhal. “It is of utmost importance that this information is communicated and considered by those most impacted when considering whether or not to support the project proposal.”

Iron ore is loaded onto a ship at Baffinland’s port in Milne Inlet. Photo: Baffinland

According to the agreement summary document, the agreement “provides greater Inuit control and oversight, direct community benefits and new and expanded programs for Inuit in communities impacted by the Mary River project.” 

The agreement also requires that Baffinland have enough financial security in place to “ensure that the entire Mary River project site will be cleaned up and restored when the project is completed.”

The Qikiqtani Inuit Association will hold money earmarked for reclamation, the document says, and, if there’s a dispute over the amount needed, Baffinland will provide the amount recommended by the association while the issue is settled.

Under the agreement, an adaptive management plan will be produced to monitor impacts from the project and prevent similar impacts in the future.

But Primo said an adaptive management plan may not be enough to address the intensity of the project.

“Let’s say that the activity becomes so great that the marine mammals just all leave and there’s nothing more there for the people to hunt,” he said. “I don’t know how you deal with that with an adaptive management process.”

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If you want to learn about your ancestry, you can spit into a test-tube and retrieve your DNA results a month later online. 

Scientists seeking to learn about the genetics of the narwhal had to use more elaborate methods to gather DNA samples of the deep-diving whale that lives in the ice-cold waters of the Arctic. 

Hoping to unravel the demographic history of the narwhal, often called the unicorn of the sea, the scientists collected narwhal tissue samples from Inuit hunters in Canada’s far north and Greenland, and tested narwhal remains from archeological digs in northern Europe and Russia. 

They even got permission to take samples of narwhal tusks from the King of Denmark’s throne chair, made from Norwegian narwhal tusks and guarded by three life-sized silver lions with manes of real gold. 

“They had special access to be able to drill little tiny bits of tusk from that throne,” said Steven Ferguson, an Arctic marine mammal research scientist with Fisheries and Oceans Canada.

Ferguson is one of 15 co-authors of a study, published on April 21 by the Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, that helps unwind a little bit more of the mystery and mystique surrounding the narwhal, a close relative of the beluga whale. 

Until recently, little was known about the light-coloured cetacean most commonly recognized for its spiralled tusk — a tooth extending through its upper lip. Only in 2017 did scientists discover the narwhal uses its tusk, a sensory device, to smack fish before swallowing them. 

Using a combination of genetics and habitat modelling, Ferguson and other scientists investigated how past climatic shifts affected the distribution of the narwhal, one of the Arctic species most vulnerable to climate change. 

They discovered low levels of genetic diversity among the world’s three narwhal populations, the two largest of which are found in Canada.

The scientists also found that habitat availability has been critical to the success of narwhals over the past tens of thousands of years, raising concerns about the fate of the migratory whale in a rapidly warming Arctic. 

There are approximately 200,000 narwhals in the world. 

Populations are named for where they summer. The vast majority of narwhals are found in Canada, in two groups known as the Baffin Bay and Hudson’s Bay populations. A third population, numbering about 10,000 animals, is found in Greenland, extending to Svalbard — an island between Norway and the North Pole — and as far as Russia. 

“It’s pretty remarkable that Canada has this resource but it’s also a lot of responsibility,” said Ferguson, who worked with Inuit hunters to gather tissue samples for the study. 

“We are the ones who are going to have to manage and conserve this species going forward into the future.” 

DFO scientist Steve Ferguson in the field, conducting research on the world’s narwhal populations. Photo: Steve Ferguson

Narwhals appear only to have ever been an Atlantic species, and all three populations are closely related. Researchers found narwhals have one of the lowest genetic diversities of all marine mammals.

“I still don’t think we’ve quite solved that puzzle as to why it is so low,” Ferguson said in an interview. “Maybe there was some kind of bottleneck way back in the past. This history that’s been explained by the genomic study here hasn’t really found a good explanation for that.”

The study found a long-term, low overall population size that increased when suitable habitat expanded following the last Ice Age. Like other polar marine predators, narwhal populations contracted into smaller areas during the last glaciation. 

“It’s a bit of a mystery as to how fragmented they might have been,” Ferguson said. 

The study also looked into the future, forecasting what impact global warming might have on populations.

Researchers estimated a 25 per cent decline in habitat suitability by 2100, with a 1.6 degrees northward shift in habitat availability, suggesting narwhal habitat is likely to contract as sea temperatures rise and sea ice continues to melt.

The genetic ghost hunters

Ferguson said there will be a slight decrease in populations, including in the east Greenland group. 

Narwhal distribution will be further affected in the near future by increased human encroachment, changes in prey availability, new competitors and increased predation by killer whales, according to the study. 

“More open water is good for narwhals to some extent,” Ferguson said. “But they will have competitors and disease and problems coming from the south [and] that’s going to continue to push them further north.”

Much depends on narwhals having access to the habitat they need to thrive, he said. 

“Baffin Bay seems to be a perfect spot for them right now, at least in winter. They’re really deep diving animals, well adapted to diving to extreme depths, up to 2 kilometres. Baffin Bay allows them to do that and has some really good food.”  

All other Arctic marine mammals are circumpolar, meaning they are found around the world. 

“But narwhal are unique,” Ferguson said. “They really seem to have this Atlantic Ocean habitat. So there’s an open question as to what might happen as we continue to lose sea ice.” 

The Arctic is warming at an unprecedented rate. A new study, published in Geophysical Research Letters, predicts summer Arctic sea ice will disappear before 2050, with devastating consequences for the Arctic ecosystem.

Narwhals most vulnerable to increased shipping in Arctic

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With more than 30 million household views, the Netflix documentary series Our Planet has become the most-watched documentary series ever. To top it off, Our Planet earned 10 Emmy nominations last week.

The eight-part series has been hailed for recognizing the proverbial elephants in the room — the climate emergency and the extinction crisis — unlike its predecessors Blue Planet and Planet Earth.

In early May, a United Nations report warned that one million species are threatened with extinction and in April Environment and Climate Change Canada reported with “high confidence” that Canada is warming at twice the rate of the rest of the world.

Amidst the stunning high-resolution footage of the planet’s natural bounty in the documentary, viewers also hear startling facts about the natural world from narrator David Attenborough. During a caribou scene in the first episode, for instance, Attenborough tells the audience: “The herd has lost nearly 70 per cent of its numbers in the last 20 years.”

Our Planet took four years to complete, with more than 600 crew members filming in 50 countries across the world. The caribou scene is one of at least two scenes in the series that were shot in Canada.

WWF-Canada assisted in helping filmmakers connect with “the right situations and the right people on the ground to collect the best footage possible,” Brandon Laforest, a senior specialist in Arctic species and ecosystems for WWF-Canada, told The Narwhal.

For the narwhal scene in the documentary, Laforest guided the filmmakers through the permitting process to film near Arctic Bay, Nunavut.

“But more importantly, my job was to help them culturally navigate what they wanted to do in order to be respectful of the local people who would ultimately be providing the opportunity to film wildlife in the north,” Laforest said.

Brandon Laforest lives in Iqaluit, Nunavut, and works as a senior specialist for Arctic species and ecosystems for WWF-Canada.

The challenges of shooting on melting sea ice

Netflix released a heart-pounding behind-the-scenes sequence from the narwhal shoot, during which an Inuit guide warns filmmakers a crack in the sea ice may strand them if they don’t move quickly.

“You’re sitting on a moving platform. That’s kind of the beauty of the ecosystem there,” Laforest said. “It’s creating those migratory paths for the narwhal.”

The resulting three-minute scene in episode two is some of the first footage ever caught of narwhals underwater.

“The scene really brought forward an interesting part of narwhal,” he said. “ It’s really underwater where you get to see the face of the animal, which is important for people to connect. You get to see their shape and playfulness and the gracefulness  — and to hear them as well.”

‘Narwhal are really having a moment’

Given there are no narwhals in aquariums, it’s an animal the vast majority of people — even those living in Canada — will never see.

“I think it’s important that we bring them to the screens of people so we get growing appreciation of the conservation of narwhals,” Laforest said.

“Narwhal are really having a moment in the last few years here in Canada. … They’re growing in our cultural awareness as Canadians as a species that’s within our national boundaries.”

In the summer months, 90 per cent of the world’s narwhal can be found within Canadian territory. Rough estimates put the world population of narwhals at 123,000.

“It’s a species that we as a nation have a very big responsibility for the proper management and conservation. It’s also culturally extremely important to Inuit communities.”

Narwhals waiting at the ice edge for a crack in the ice to appear, big enough for them to swim down to access their summering grounds in Nunavut. Photo: Sophie Lanfear / Silverback / Netflix

Narwhals have ‘lived in relative isolation’ … until now

Narwhal are almost entirely dependent on auditory cues for communication, navigation and accessing food. As a result, they’ve been identified as the Arctic marine mammal most threatened by Arctic shipping.

“There’s a really high overlap with critical narwhal habitat as shippers start to eye the Northwest Passage,” Laforest said.

“We’re talking about an animal that has lived in relative isolation from the effects of industrial development and they’re now going to be exposed to potentially regular shipping,” he added.

For a whole variety of reasons, narwhals have been identified as the most susceptible Arctic marine mammal to the climate emergency.

“They have a very limited range, they have a very low genetic diversity and very specific food habits that are passed down through generations. And they also rely on sea ice.”

Less sea ice, more killer whales

A reduction of sea ice is one of the most marked effects of climate change.

“The Arctic marine food web has its basis in the sea algae that lives under the ice,” Laforest said. “You have potential really big shifts in their food web ecology.”

Another big change for narwhals is an observed increase in the number of killer whales in their territory.

“If you notice the narwhal, they don’t have that really charismatic dorsal fin on their backs that we associate with whales and dolphins,” Laforest explained. “They use a bony ridge on their backs to break thin ice to breathe.”

With declining sea ice, killer whales (which do have dorsal fins) are exploiting this new territory.

“And they are a voracious predator of narwhals,” Laforest said. “There are many threats. And that’s not even getting to the potentiality of oil and gas development and seismic testing.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=177&v=UVwYygnGkPE

The mystery of narwhals

As the narwhal comes under multiple threats, we still know relatively little about the species.

“We’re still trying to figure out what that darn tusk is for. There are a lot of theories and it’s not a one-stop answer,” Laforest said.

“There’s likely some sexual selection to it; it’s a display of health and virility as a male. But two per cent of females have a tusk, which is not typical for a sexually selected trait.”

There’s also evidence that indicates the tusk is used as a sensory organ that can sense salinity and temperature changes and recent footage showed a narwhal using its tusk to stun and eat fish at the surface of the water.

“Inuit had noted that, but it was the first time it was captured on video,” Laforest said.

Researchers are also still unsure of where exactly narwhal calve.

“We know where some of them calve, but sometimes they just show up with calves and people aren’t sure where that calf was born,” Laforest said.

“Last year, the narwhal just didn’t show up around Pond Inlet and nobody knows where they were. The community wasn’t able to harvest as many as they need.”

But of all the things we don’t know, there’s one that worries Laforest the most.

“The biggest thing we don’t know is how they’re going to react to all the changes that are being thrown at them.”

Are narwhals stressed out?

Narwhal populations seem to be relatively stabile, at least for now.

“They’re sustainably harvested by Inuit. There’s a quota system in place to ensure that harvest remains sustainable,” Laforest said.

That said, given how little we know about narwhal, keeping track of how many there are is not an exact science.

To help fill some of the knowledge gaps, Laforest is involved in a research project, in partnership with the University of Calgary and Pond Inlet Hunters and Trappers, looking at stress hormones in narwhal over time.

Using archives and harvest samples from the 1970s up until now, the researchers are trying to answer one question: are narwhals more stressed out?

Researchers are focusing on the narwhals living in close proximity to the Mary River iron ore mine on Baffin Island, which Laforest described as the largest industrial development happening in Nunavut.

The mine, one of the northernmost mines in the world, ships iron ore to markets in Europe and Asia.

“In the ice-free season, there are multiples ships every day,” Laforest said.  “What are the impacts of big industrial development on narwhal?”

Caribou herd reduced by 70%

The documentary series also showcased another charismatic Canadian species: caribou.

The caribou scenes in the first episode were filmed outside of Kuujaurpik, Quebec, and showed the Leaf River herd, one of two major herds of eastern migratory caribou in Quebec, being hunted by a pack of wolves.

The Leaf River herd has declined from a population of more than 600,000 animals in 2013 to fewer than 187,000 caribou today.

“Wherever there’s caribou, there are caribou people. We have a real duty as Canadians with this animal,” Laforest said.

Caribou in Quebec. Photo: Myloh Villaronga / Silverback / Netflix

While woodland caribou in B.C. and Alberta are in deep trouble — with Indigenous guardians resorting to penning the pregnant females in some cases — the migratory tundra caribou in the north are in slightly better shape.

“There’s still a chance to get it right with these caribou,” Larforest said.

“In the south, we created this huge fragmented landscape for caribou … and you’re left with isolated populations.”

Laforest said there’s a big opportunity to learn from the south, where landscapes have been fragmented to the extent that they create barriers to the movement of wildlife.

“No individual project is to blame. It’s the cumulative effects of multiple decisions over time. All of that together has created this irreversible effect,” Laforest said.

“We’re doomed to repeat the mistakes of the south if we don’t start looking at the landscape-level right now, rather than at the individual project level.”

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A rare whale skull discovered by an Inuit hunter 30 years ago in Greenland has been confirmed by a Canadian scientist to be the hybrid calf of a beluga father and a narwhal mother — otherwise known as a narluga.

A study published today in Scientific Reports reveals the results of DNA and chemical analyses performed by Trent University’s Paul Szpak and identifies the first-ever confirmed hybrid of the Arctic marine mammals.

At Trent University in Peterborough, Ont., Szpak and his team performed a chemical analysis using a technique called “isotope ratio mass spectrometry” on the hybrid remains and on other narwhals and belugas.

Using this technology, he was able to identify that the “narluga” had a very different diet than either of its parent species. This may have been the result of the whale’s unusual teeth — some long and peg-like like the beluga, others spiraled and resembling corkscrews, like the narwhal tusk.

“To get the chance to analyze material from an animal that nobody has ever worked with before has been extremely cool,” Szpak, Canada Research Chair in environmental archeology, said.

“The findings also teach the world about the biology of belugas and narwhals and how the two species interact.”

Skulls of (a) narwhal, (b) the hybrid analyzed in the study, and (c) beluga. Photos: Mikkel Høegh Post / Natural History Museum of Denmark

The whale is just one of a spate of recent discoveries of hybrid species. Grolar bears — grizzly-polar bear hybrids — have turned up at least eight times since 2006. Formerly separate eastern and western populations of bowhead whales have traversed the increasingly ice-free Arctic to meet, though not mate; a suspected bowhead-northern right whale hybrid, meanwhile, has been photographed.

Scientists have identified 22 Arctic or near-Arctic species that could potentially hybridize, and yes, the list includes the narwhal and beluga. Most of these opportunities are being enhanced by climate change as it removes the barriers between species.

And that hybridization may not be a good thing for biodiversity.

“As the genomes of species become mixed, adaptive gene combinations will be lost,” the researchers of the hybridization paper wrote in 2010. Those adaptive gene combinations include things like the hollow, “white” fur of polar bears, which gives them an advantage in hunting.

— With files from Jimmy Thomson

Meet the scientists embracing traditional Indigenous knowledge

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Since the age of the Roman Empire and the story of how the twins Romulus and Remus were raised by a wolf, tales of interspecies adoptions have captivated the human imagination. The story that emerged from Canada’s St. Lawrence River in July of 2018 was no exception. While researching belugas, a group of scientists captured drone footage of a young male narwhal, more than 1,000 kilometres south of his Arctic home, swimming with a pod of belugas.

It sounds like something straight out of Disney’s Finding Nemo. But in the three years since the narwhal was first spotted with his adopted family, this real life drama has been playing out in the waters of the St. Lawrence estuary. And the unlikely alliance has researchers scratching their heads.

The cause of this consternation? A funny word called “adoption.”

In the human realm, adoption is seen as a benevolent act, but in the wild it poses a real evolutionary dilemma. This is because the goal of every organism in the natural world is to reproduce and transfer its genes to future generations. Adoption is puzzling because it requires an individual to invest resources into another’s offspring, with no guarantee of passing on its own genetic material. Despite this, adoption is well-documented across the animal kingdom.

The question is, why?

Understanding when and where we see cases of adoption often comes down to understanding how adoption can provide a benefit to the foster parents or adoptive group members. In other words, how can investing in another’s offspring actually increase the potential for adoptive parents to contribute genes to future generations?

A family matter

One possibility is through the adoption of kin.

Since related individuals share genes, by raising family, animals can help to ensure the survival of their own DNA. This is the most widely documented explanation for foster care in the wild. Many social species, including lions, primates and elephants have been known to care for or raise the offspring of a mother, sister, aunt or other relative.

But scientists from the Kluane Red Squirrel Project have found that social species aren’t the only animals that adopt kin. In the icy north of Canada’s Yukon, red squirrel mothers preferentially adopt orphaned relatives. This is intriguing because red squirrels are territorial rodents that live in isolation. Even so, red squirrels were able to identify relatives and actively chose to foster pups to which they were related. Out of thousands of litters, researchers only identified five cases of adoption, all of which were orphaned kin.

A red squirrel mother carries a 25-day old pup to a new nest. Photo: Erin Siracusa.

You scratch my back, I scratch yours

But adopting individuals with shared genes isn’t the only way that potential foster parents can benefit. Reciprocity, or an “exchange of favours,” might also motivate shared parenting. Under certain circumstances unrelated females will swap “babysitting” duties. This has the benefit of allowing the mother to forage more efficiently without youngsters tagging along.

Alternatively, mothers might nurse each other’s offspring, providing temporary relief from maternal duties. Scientists are still uncertain, however, how important reciprocity might be for facilitating allonursing — non-maternal milk provisioning — or other forms of foster care provided by non-relatives.

Practice makes perfect

Even more puzzling are circumstances in which adoptions occur between members of different species. Such cases can’t be explained either by shared genes or reciprocity among group members, and while interspecies adoptions are rare in the wild, they aren’t unheard of. For instance, in 2004, researchers in Brazil observed an infant marmoset being cared for by two female capuchin monkeys.

Since interspecies adoptions are so uncommon, it’s challenging to understand why they occur. One possibility is that adoption provides an opportunity for young females to practice their mothering skills. Scientists believe that proficiency in parenting is based on learned as well as innate behaviours.

In elephant seals, experienced mothers are more successful in raising offspring. Researchers think that these benefits of maternal experience may be one reason adoption occurs so frequently in this species. By practising with adopted young, females can ensure that they are competent mothers when it comes time to raise their own offspring.

Mistakes do happen

Of course, not every instance of adoption is likely to be beneficial for the adoptive parent. One simple cause of mistaken foster care is reproductive error.

Breeding females that have recently lost their young are often still behaviourally and physiologically ready to provide maternal care. In such cases, a female’s motherly instinct may be so strong that it leads her to mistakenly redirect her care toward unrelated young.

Alternatively, parents may simply be bamboozled into raising another species’ young. Brown-headed cowbirds lay their eggs in the nest of an unsuspecting host who, unable to distinguish the cowbird’s offspring, will raise the young as their own.

All for one and one for all?

But in the chilly waters of the St. Lawrence River, a different sort of adoption story is unfolding. The welcoming of a young narwhal into a pod of juvenile male belugas cannot be explained by kin selection, reciprocity or maternal instinct … leaving what?

It’s a good question, and frankly, scientists are still uncertain. One possibility is that adopting a lone individual might provide a benefit for the entire group. For instance, having a larger pod might offer protection from predators.

This “safety in numbers” benefit has been suggested as an explanation for adoption in other species. Alternatively, both narwhals and belugas are highly social animals and the benefits of social companionship alone might lead to this unlikely alliance.

This is particularly true given that narwhals and belugas do not directly compete for food. Narwhals feed on deepwater fish, while belugas prefer surface dwelling salmon and capelin. The costs of adoption are therefore likely to be low.

In the end, the narwhal’s adoption might be one of the many natural mysteries that scientists have yet to solve. Nevertheless, footage of this long-tusked, grey-skinned cetacean frolicking with its fellow belugas is offering people worldwide a rare glimpse into an animal behaviour almost never seen in the wild.

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There’s a surprising number of people who don’t believe in narwhals.

Not that a narwhal is a creature that can or can’t be believed in. But rather, somewhere along the way, the marine cetacean got lumped into the popular mind as a being on par with dragons, Bigfoot, or, unsurprisingly, unicorns (thanks in no small part to the giant tusk that shoots straight out of its forehead). But no matter how impossible the narwhal way may seem, it is very much real. And though remote, these not-so-mythical beasts are gaining visibility, and thus believability: namely, because they like to spend their summers smack-dab in the middle of the increasingly ice-free Northwest Passage.

In a new study published Tuesday in the Proceedings of  the National Academy of Sciences, researchers found that out of seven Arctic marine mammals, the narwhal is the most vulnerable to vessel traffic in the Arctic’s Northwest Passage and Northern Sea Route during the open water season. This is due to its high exposure and biological traits that make the narwhal sensitive to passing ships.

The polar bear, though often used as the poster child for climate change, was the least vulnerable as it spends much of the late summer on land.

Scientists hope that governments and industry can use this vulnerability assessment to better plan and implement regulations and protections for marine mammals.

Narwhals are a migratory animal that spend most of their time in the waters of the Eastern Arctic.

“At various points during the year, 90 per cent of the world’s narwhal can be found in Canadian waters,” says Brandon Laforest, senior Arctic specialist with World Wildlife Fund-Canada based in Iqaluit. “We have a really high responsibility for [them] in terms of proper management and conservation.”

Under the Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada, narwhals are identified as a species of special concern. That’s because, while their numbers are holding strong — between 80,000 and 100,000 worldwide — several red flags have been raised about their continued survival in the Arctic, given that narwhals have a fairly limited geographic extent and depend on sea ice for their life cycle.

September sea ice cover in the Arctic has retreated by 14 per cent per decade since 1979, lengthening the open-water season and increasing navigability for ships.

Previous studies have shown narwhals are also the most vulnerable to the effects of climate change, “and now, with this study, you see another … in that they’re highly exposed to future shipping threats and they’re also the most vulnerable to those threats,” says LaForest of the study.

When researchers broke all the mammal species down further, into 80 subpopulations, they found that the Eclipse Sound narwhal subpopulation was the most vulnerable to vessel traffic.

“At various points during the year, 90 per cent of the world’s narwhal can be found in Canadian waters.”  — Brandon Laforest, World Wildlife Fund-Canada

Donna Hauser, lead author of the study, explained that they looked at each population’s distribution in September, the height of the Arctic’s open water season, and overlaid that with the main sea routes. Narwhals, more often than not, had the greatest overlap.

Ships can affect marine mammals in a number of ways. First, there are direct strikes — most commonly seen with large whales, which are less manoeuvrable and slow to get out of the way. Then there are behavioral disturbances, which might alter how or where an animal feeds or moves. And lastly, there are acoustic disturbances, which can throw off an animal’s communication, navigation or feeding. Toothed whales, like narwhals, rely on sound to identify objects and obstacles.

With routine vessel transits expected by 2050 through the Northern Sea Route and Northwest Passage, it’s critical to understand exactly how this will impact species and which ones are most vulnerable.

“Armed with that information, we can start planning some precautionary measures for protection,” Hauser, says. This has been done in the lower latitudes, re-routing vessels and adjusting speeds to minimize exposure and acoustic disturbance.

A few years ago, the Arctic Council tasked nations to identify areas of ecological importance and assess measures that would minimize the effects of a growing Arctic shipping industry. This led to the International Maritime Organization adopting and implementing a new Polar Code in early 2017. But so far, it’s been difficult to exercise on the ground as there’s been limited data on Arctic species that would inform how best to minimize negative environmental impacts. Hauser hopes this study is a step toward changing that.

Last year, the Canadian government established a National Marine Conservation Area around Tallurutiup Imanga, or Lancaster Sound, at the eastern entrance of the Northwest Passage. Around 75 per cent of the world’s narwhals spend their summer in the sound. This 131,000-square-kilometre protected area will help protect them by allowing the government to place restrictions on the number of ships that can pass through, and their speeds.

“But it’s quite tricky,” notes Marianne Marcoux, a research scientist with the federal Department of Fisheries and Oceans. “Ships make noise and quicker ships make louder noises, but slower ships stay longer in an area,” increasing exposure and the risk that a strike could occur.

As waters become increasingly ice-free, and the open water season lasts longer, Hauser’s vulnerability index could change. Though polar bears were determined to be least vulnerable in September, that’s not say to there won’t eventually be strong vessel impacts in other seasons. Already, the open water season has increased between five and ten weeks, and spring break-up is coming sooner. Icebreakers, too, are pushing inward during the winter. What marine mammals will have the best chance of survival in this new Arctic remains to be seen.

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