APPENDIX E (p. [104])
The "Porpoise" (Beluga or White Whale) Fishery on the St. Lawrence
The so-called "porpoise" of the St. Lawrence is in reality the French marsouin, the English beluga, a word of Russian origin, signifying white. The Beluga (Delphinapterus leucas), is a real whale with its most striking characteristic the white, or rather cream-coloured, skin described by some writers as very beautiful. Like the narwhal it has no dorsal fin. Though the smallest member of the whale family it is sometimes more than twenty feet long; but usually ranges from thirteen to sixteen feet. The young are bluish black in colour and may be seen swimming beside their mother who feeds them with a very thick milk. These young grow rapidly and become mottled and then white as they grow older. The beluga is peculiar to northern regions where the water is cold: when one is seen at the mouth of an English river it is a subject of special note. There are numbers in Hudson Bay and they have been found in the Yukon River, it is said, 700 miles from its mouth, whither they went no doubt after salmon or other fish.
Jacques Cartier saw the beluga disporting itself off Malbaie nearly 400 years ago and in summer it is still to be seen there almost daily. It is never alone. One sees the creatures swimming rapidly in single file. They come to the surface with a prolonged sigh accompanied by the throwing of a small jet of water; the perfectly white bodies writhe into view as the small round heads disappear. Sometimes the beluga makes a noise like the half suppressed lowing of oxen and, since the aquatic world is so silent, sailors have christened the beluga, for this slender achievement, the "sea canary." It is a playful creature and is apparently attracted by man's presence. Before its confidence in him was shaken it used to linger about wharves and ships. But, in spite of the extremely small aperture of its ear, it is very sensitive to sound and modern man with his fire arms and clatter of machinery frightens it away. In 1752 the Intendant Bigot issued special instructions to check the use of firearms on the point at Rivière Ouelle, in order that the beluga might not be frightened, to the ruin of the extensive fishery that has existed there for more than two hundred years. Its sight, touch and taste are also well developed but it has no olfactory nerve and is apparently without the sense of smell. The creature has qualities that we should hardly expect. It has been tamed and almost domesticated. The enterprising Barnum exhibited in New York a beluga which drew a boat about in his aquarium. At Boston another beluga from the St. Lawrence drew about a floating car carrying a woman performer. It knew its keeper and at the proper time would appear and put its head from the water to be harnessed or to take food. This beluga would take in its mouth a sturgeon and a small shark confined in the same tank, play with them and allow them to go unharmed. It would also pick up and toss stones with its mouth.
The beluga is greedy. In the early spring, when he is thin and half starved, capelin and smelt in great numbers come to spawn along the north and south shores of the St. Lawrence. With high tide comes the beluga's chance to feed on the spawning fish and he will rush in quite near to shore for his favourite food. So voracious is he that with the fish he takes quantities of sand into his stomach. In eight or ten days he will eat enough to form from five to eight inches of fat over his whole body. "The facility with which he thus grows fat is explained," says the Abbé Casgrain, "by the easy assimilation of such food and by the considerable development of his digestive apparatus."
No doubt the beluga enjoys himself hugely. But Nemesis awaits him. His fish diet has a soporific effect; gorged with food he becomes stupid and is easily taken. Man's trap for him is simple and ingenious. A century and a half ago it was to be seen at Pointe au Pic and to-day it is in operation at Rivière Ouelle on the south side of the river. The weir or fishery for the beluga must be on a large scale and is expensive to keep up; it is for this reason that when the number of these creatures declined it was no longer possible to maintain the fishery at Pointe au Pic. At Rivière Ouelle annually more than 7000 stakes, from 18 to 20 feet long, are necessary to keep in repair the fishery which is almost entirely destroyed each year by ice. Beginning at the shore a line of stakes is carried out into the river placed perhaps a foot apart to form a rough semi-circle about a mile and a third long. The stakes curve back to the shore leaving however a passage of perhaps 1000 feet open between the farther end and the shore. This outer end of the weir is completed by a smaller circle of stakes, so arranged as to make entrance easy by following within the line of stakes, but exit difficult. The distance between high and low water mark at Rivière Ouelle is about a mile and a half and along this great stretch of beach the small fish come in great numbers to spawn. There is a considerable point at the mouth of the little Rivière Ouelle. The wide beach, bare at low water, and this point furnish an admirable combination for the beluga fishery. At high tide the beluga comes rushing in near to shore after his prey, sometimes in water so shallow that his whole body comes into view. In his progress along the shore he is checked by the stakes reaching out from the point, so close together that he cannot get through. The stakes sway with the current and sometimes strike together making considerable noise. Early whalers thought the beluga would try to pass by squeezing between the stakes and to prevent this they fastened the stakes together with ropes. But this was not necessary. Frightened by the noise the timid beluga's instinct leads him to make for the open water. He dashes across the semi-circle of the fishery only to be checked by the line of stakes on its outer edge. The line like a wall he follows, looking for an opening, and may be led insensibly into the labyrinthine circle at its end from which he will hardly escape. If he heads back towards shore where he came in, he is frightened by the shallow water which he disregarded only when in pursuit of his prey. Where was shallow water indeed he may now find dry land for the tide is running out. So the creature becomes bewildered. He swims about slowly, as it were feeling his way, or disappears at the bottom, to be stranded when the tide goes out and thus becomes the prey of his enemy, man.
Some old belugas are very cunning; they are called by the French Canadian the savants, the knowing ones, and seem to understand the wiles of the fisherman. They warn off the others and so foil the design against them. But greediness proves often their destruction. From over-feeding year after year they become fat and stupid and they too are likely in time to be taken. The less knowing beluga has usually slight chance of escape when once he encounters the line of stakes stretching out from the point and, since they follow each other blindly, if one is taken a whole troop is likely to meet the same fate.
The Abbé Casgrain, who, since his childhood was spent at the Manor House at Rivière Ouelle, was long familiar with the "porpoise" fishery, describes the scene witnessed there by him on May 1st, 1873. It was a glorious day and the belugas appeared in greater numbers than for many years. They swarmed off the mouth of the Rivière Ouelle. At high tide they came in, skirting the rocks within a stone's throw of shore and devouring greedily the innumerable small fish. The surface of the shallow water in which they swam was white with their gleaming bodies. When they puffed they spurted jets of water into the air which fell in spray that sparkled in the sunlight. The Abbé then describes how the creatures became entrapped in the fishery. Instances of the mother's devotion are recorded. They have been known to wait outside the stakes for their young, caught within, and to allow themselves to be stranded and killed rather than leave their offspring.