Little Patch Brings Big Joy

How a whale reminded me of the importance of joy and awe in grief

There’s been a visitor making a SPLASH in Vancouver this spring. He’s really in-GREY-tiated himself with the locals. It’s been a WHALE of a time!

Okay, I’ll stop with the puns. He deserves better…

I’m talking about Little Patch, the grey whale who has captured the hearts of locals while feeding close to shore in Vancouver.

Little Patch is recognised by a small white patch on his back. Photo by Cascadia Research Collective.

I was captivated by news of him and was desperate to catch a glimpse, but often too late to spot him. I walked my local shoreline scanning for his spouts to no avail.

Then I stumbled upon a Facebook page where members report wildlife sightings in real time. People share updates and pictures, and it seemed like a wholesome corner of the internet. SIGN ME UP!

A few days went by, and I realised I didn’t want to be checking the page constantly, so I joined the pages group chat specifically aimed at tracking Little Patch. The chat has oh only over… 3000 participants!

I have group chats with my closest friends that I mute because **notifications** but this was different. What if he was in my area, and I missed him by a fin!¹ I joined and have no regrets.

One of my unsuccessful LP spotting attempts… not mad to spend time staring out at this view!

Little Patch, or LP as he’s known in the chat, eluded me at first. But then due to the group updates I knew he was close by and finally spied him. What a true delight!

Humans are so tickled so see a whale. They must exclaim “look a whale!”

That is the rule and if you don’t do it, you go to jail. Also acceptable is turning to look at the people around you, smiling, pointing and talking about the whale. His visits promoted a sense of community that’s not always present. Way to go, LP!

I know I’m not alone in this because while researching² I discovered Whidbey Island, Washington has a whale bell people ring when they see a whale so that everyone knows to come and have a look. Vancouver needs to install these STAT!³

From the chat I also learned about his origins and behaviour. LP is part of a group of whales known as the Sounders who feed in the Puget Sound. They deviate from other grey whale migration paths and have been coming to the surrounding area. While Little Patch has been spotted locally since the 90’s, this spring is his first-known visit to Vancouver.

I observed LP twice during his visit and saw him feeding, his heart-shaped blows, and general splish-sploshing.

Observing a whale, or indeed anything in nature always has a way of grounding me. And in my grief, finding ways to ground myself in the present moment is vital. It’s hard to be too sad when watching a whale splash around just offshore.

When I’m in my deep feels, one thing that’s often helped is to zoom out. It’s why I love learning about astrophysics and being in nature like forests and mountains. I find it comforting to feel “smaller” and less significant. And in a way I felt that too with Little Patch. He’s a massive creature that is both connected to us through the health of the ocean and planet, and also totally unbothered by me as I quietly⁴ observed him from the shore.

He was just doing his thing, foraging for ghost prawns in the sandy bottoms of the Salish sea, and we were all here desperate to catch a glimpse.

Then again, LP sometimes does an action called “Spyhopping” where he goes vertical and has his eye above the water. So I like to think he’s also curious about the crowds forming to check him out.

Little Patch and his admirers by Siwash Rock! Great capture by Raquel Gallego and shared with permission – thank you kindly Raquel!

Spotting Little Patch reminded me of the power of awe and how that can take me out of whatever funk I’m in, however temporarily. And this is vital in grief.

Feeling amazement, joy and wonder are important. And I reflected on how early in my grief these things were hard to feel, because they were usually followed by a brutal follow up pain. The pain of missing Mike, wishing I could share it with him, or the guilt that he didn’t get to have this experience. It made feeling joy excruciatingly difficult and complicated.

Of course, I wish Mike could have seen Little Patch, he would have been tickled by it. And it was heartening to take a moment to reflect that this pain has shifted. I can feel joy and awe and marvel at beauty in their simplistically true form. Not to say the grief isn’t still there, especially on harder days. But it has softened.

Part of my grieving experience is about being able to find joy again and hold it when I can. Learning how to tolerate the good feelings alongside the difficult. LP paved the wave for this reflection as smoothly as he flicked his tail at the jet skis that got too close.

LP’s visits also fostered connection with the present moment, nature, and my local community – both online and IRL. All while foraging for ghost prawns and other treats. I could only ever dream of making such an impact while gorging myself on an all you can eat seafood buffet!

Until we get that whale bell, I’ll stick to the group chat. I’m especially grateful for the admins who do a great job of keeping us focused to the task at hand without breach⁵ – LP updates or nothing! And of course when I next see a whale I’ll cry “look, a whale!”

While I was writing this I learned he’s been spotted back in his usual feeding grounds near Seattle, so it appears he’s continued with business as usual.

Thank you, Little Patch, for doing your thing and reminding me of the importance of connection and joy and awe in grief. We’ll miss you, come back soon!

1. Okay NOW I’m done, you’re whale-com

2. I googled things…

3. Someone call Mayor Ken!

4. Quietly besides the exclamations as per the law

5. (I’ll sea myself out.)