How could he not? he thought. It was right there. How could he not?

At the far end of the inlet there was a shallow, sloping shore that came down into the water a good distance and it was covered with small round stones, none bigger than his fist. Thousands, millions of them formed a thick layer from the shore down to the sea bottom, a huge carpet of stones carved and pushed by endless wave movement and tidal flow until they were so polished they shone when he picked one up.

It turned out to be these stones the whales were after and Leif paddled the canoe off to the side and watched them as they took turns diving and sliding across the stone bed on their stomachs and sides amid great clicks and chukker sounds he could hear-sense-feel through the sides and bottom of the canoe.

At first he thought they were just playing and indeed they seemed to enjoy the feel of the small pebbles. They would roll and slide over one another, teasing, and take turns moving to the eastern side of the U-shaped shoreline and slide-roll across on their bellies or sides, arching their backs as they moved almost as if being petted.

But there was more to it than just a game. They seemed to have such a definite purpose that when he watched more closely he could see they were using the rocks in some way. Perhaps to clean their sides and belly. They were carefully moving their bodies, rolling from side to side, rubbing at the inlet’s bottom with their faces, back down to their tails, flukes, and even these they carefully dragged across the stones.

And when the adults were done, they worked at teaching the young ones, who had been watching but not trying, to go to the end of the inlet and start passing and rolling across. Initially they simply didn’t understand and would go the wrong way, or head out of the inlet, or forget to roll, or just do one side, or pick up one of the stones and head-flip it skittering across the surface and try to hit it with their tail. They were, Leif thought, like a pack of young dogs and he laughed out loud until he noticed that one of the whales, the big male – perhaps hearing the sound of his laugh – moved slowly away from the juveniles and stopped, lying right next to the canoe, almost touching, so that his body was between the canoe and the rest of the pod who were still trying to get the youngsters – Leif actually thought of them as pups – to start using the rocks correctly.

And there he stayed.

Not being aggressive, nor even threatening.

Just there.

Protecting.