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Monarch of the Sea: Tribute to the Blue Whale Killed by Survey Boat
This poem written by Don Kirkpatrick, "Monarch to the Sea," is a tribute to the blue whale killed by a boat doing surveys for the California Ocean Protection Commission off the Mendocino Coast.
The death of the whale drew an angry response from North Coast environmentalists, fishermen and seaweed harvesters, since one of the main reasons the boat was mapping the ocean floor was to gather the data used to develop so-called state "marine protected areas" (MPAs) under Governor Arnold's widely-criticized Marine Life Protection Act (MLPA) process, as well as for federal MPAs. The boat was operating without a valid permit at the time that it struck and killed the rare whale, according to Steve Sullivan, Vice-President of Sea Surveyor, Inc.
Photo of dead blue whale by Larry Wagner.
The death of the whale drew an angry response from North Coast environmentalists, fishermen and seaweed harvesters, since one of the main reasons the boat was mapping the ocean floor was to gather the data used to develop so-called state "marine protected areas" (MPAs) under Governor Arnold's widely-criticized Marine Life Protection Act (MLPA) process, as well as for federal MPAs. The boat was operating without a valid permit at the time that it struck and killed the rare whale, according to Steve Sullivan, Vice-President of Sea Surveyor, Inc.
Photo of dead blue whale by Larry Wagner.
Monarch of the Sea
The mighty monarch of the sea
Roams the world wild and free.
Glides through waves, flowing smoothly.
The largest beast to live on earth.
Filling lungs, diving deep,
Breaks the surface with gigantic leap.
Roving globe in search of mate,
Travels no more, man has sealed fate.
Her massive body long and slender,
Sings its song, haunting, tender.
A ghostly, deep and rumbling voice,
Noiseless forever, but not by choice.
Blood of life flowed from gash in side.
Turned ocean crimson when she died.
A silenced journey drained of spirit,
Its lifetime mate can no longer hear it.
Seventy two feet, fifty streamlined tons,
A putrid carcass, crushed and broken.
Those years of eighty cut short too soon,
Rotting now ‘neath shimmering moon.
The survey vessel in knowledge quest
Has bestowed upon it final rest.
Hunting whale by world is banned.
Why does this one lie on sand ?
Don Kirkpatrick
The mighty monarch of the sea
Roams the world wild and free.
Glides through waves, flowing smoothly.
The largest beast to live on earth.
Filling lungs, diving deep,
Breaks the surface with gigantic leap.
Roving globe in search of mate,
Travels no more, man has sealed fate.
Her massive body long and slender,
Sings its song, haunting, tender.
A ghostly, deep and rumbling voice,
Noiseless forever, but not by choice.
Blood of life flowed from gash in side.
Turned ocean crimson when she died.
A silenced journey drained of spirit,
Its lifetime mate can no longer hear it.
Seventy two feet, fifty streamlined tons,
A putrid carcass, crushed and broken.
Those years of eighty cut short too soon,
Rotting now ‘neath shimmering moon.
The survey vessel in knowledge quest
Has bestowed upon it final rest.
Hunting whale by world is banned.
Why does this one lie on sand ?
Don Kirkpatrick
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