The Whale on the Beach: A Powerful Lesson from Hilton Head’s Stranding
One whale. One weekend. One unforgettable lesson in letting go.
Story by Amber Kuehn
Editor’s note: When word began to ripple through the Lowcountry about a stranded sperm whale on Hilton Head Island, we turned to the person closest to the situation. Marine biologist and Sea Turtle Patrol HHI director Amber Kuehn was there the evening of Saturday, May 3, and stayed through the quiet hours of May 5, bearing witness to something few ever see. We reached out to her to learn more about the experience and to better understand why it happened. What she offered us was not just a recounting but a reflection, a story shaped by salt, science, instinct and awe. We are grateful she chose to share it just as it happened, in her own voice.
Sperm whales dive for the “Kraken” that lives thousands of feet below the surface in the darkness of the ocean depths. I absolutely love ocean lore, but, actually, giant cephalopods (squid and octopus) do exist. The sperm whale has evolved to survive extreme pressure, diving deep to seek this prey. From the South Carolina coastline, suitable depths would begin at the Blake Ridge, 400 miles east of Hilton Head’s beach. This is a brief overview of my experience with a juvenile male sperm whale that stranded itself on Hilton Head Island. His journey landward over a shallow continental shelf was intentional.
A surreal call from the shore
I’ve been a charter boat captain for 26 years. While attending graduate school for a master’s degree in marine biology, I worked as a dive boat captain. It’s my financial safety net that allows me to participate in my passion projects. On this particular evening my boat was chartered for a bachelorette party on the May River. As the young women disembarked, I reached into my bag for my cell phone. There were several missed calls and text messages from Shore Beach Services, Town of HHI Code Enforcement, S.C. Department of Natural Resources and Lowcountry Marine Mammal Network flooding my screen.
I called the lifeguard that had sent me a picture of the incident. Instead of a greeting, I heard, “AMBER, when are you getting here? It’s alive!” Social media had already started growing the grapevine. I rushed home, knowing that if I went to the beach, I would be staying the night. I grabbed my stranding kit, pillow, flashlight, a can of smoked oysters, water and my dog (a doodle). In hindsight, I will put together a better “go bag.”
My Sea Turtle Patrol staff was notified en route because I would never hear the end of it if I didn’t mention that there was a live sperm whale in the surf at a popular beach access. I arrived with 30 minutes of daylight to spare. I entered the surf beyond the yellow caution tape and got as deep as I could before soaking my underwear. Who forgets to bring an extra pair of underwear?
It was certainly a sperm whale, and it was definitely alive. I did not expect the forceful exhale from the whale as I inhaled simultaneously. In the chaos of the moment, I had forgotten to don my N95 mask. It was Saturday, May 3, and the tide had just turned, literally and figuratively.
Sunset, surf and disbelief
As the sun set, law enforcement officials departed for other calls, and lifeguards reluctantly left me on the beach with the crowd. I had to remove the barrier as it fell with the incoming tide. Onlookers refused to get out of the water and inched closer to the distressed animal. At dark, they begged me to turn on my headlights so that they could see the whale better. I explained that the water was rising, and soon the whale would be covered. I encouraged everyone to leave, but to no avail. One kid ran into the surf like Ichabod Crane, jumping the waves with his phone held high above his head to get a selfie with the whale. I was convinced that one man had rallied enough people to try to push the whale back out to sea while I was distracted by the rogue teenager. A lady pleaded with me to save the 20-ton whale that had intentionally beached itself. She continued to intermittently request a rescue mission despite my explanation concerning this behavior.
I have lost track of how many times I’ve explained it. The intelligence of marine mammals is underestimated by the public. They are familiar with their surroundings and are navigators capable of long migrations. They are logical and aware that they are debilitated, knowing when they are no longer fit for survival. Their weakened movements through the water do not go unnoticed. Sharks sense this vulnerability through specialized organs called ampullae of Lorenzini on their snout that identify electromagnetic impulses in the ocean.
Rather than be eaten alive by sharks, marine mammals will find land where they can breathe with lungs and die peacefully on the sand. I have seen this behavior in dolphins and pygmy sperm whales on Hilton Head Island. Usually death comes before they make it to their destination, and their scavenged body drifts in with the tide. I perform a necropsy to collect their tissue and organs for analysis in the NOAA lab at Ft. Johnson in Charleston. This has been my volunteer commitment on Hilton Head beaches for 13 years, but I don’t highlight it. It is upsetting to those who do not understand.
Awe in the silence
After a sleepless night with my doodle in a panic, wet air descended to reveal the massive dark whale silhouette lying motionless on the sand. The persistent woman was determined to comfort the whale and had returned before dawn to be close to it. Assuming that the whale needed human consolation, hovering over it may have caused additional stress for the animal.
In Herman Melville’s novel Moby Dick, an albino sperm whale was anthropomorphized by Captain Ahab. He obsessed over his perception of the whale’s intent: evil and vengeful. His pride and greed contributed to his demise among others. The psychology of anthropomorphism is relative to the need of the individual rather than the animal. When sperm whales are sexually mature at approximately 9 years old, they leave their mother’s pod. They travel and lead solitary lives, with the exception of an occasional male-male friendship collaboration that typically runs its course in two years. We cannot assume that they find comfort in our presence, particularly when they were hunted for decades by humans with harpoons for the whaling industry.
I asked the emotional woman to step away from the whale, and Vito arrived to help me replace the caution tape barrier. A part of me had hoped the whale had passed peacefully overnight. After sunrise I measured the length of the whale laying on its side (31 feet). I had made eye contact with the whale as I passed with the measuring tape. He exhaled (always followed by an inhale) and started to audibly speak with clicks that went on for a couple of minutes. Marine mammals vocalize through their blowhole with a very large range of clicks, whistles, squeaks and bursts. I am fairly certain that I will never have the opportunity to hear this again.
In my experience, these rare moments are so powerful that my memory is overwhelmed, almost erased, by the awe that I feel. Despite ongoing scientific observations and research, deciphering marine mammal communication, apart from a signature whistle, has been unsuccessful. Knowing that I will never understand what the whale had said, I shifted my focus to protocol and procedure, which have consistently proven helpful and effective. I reported that the whale was still alive and that euthanasia from Florida was still required.
What remains and what we learn
Hundreds gathered to watch the excavator assist government officials and various university researchers perform a necropsy to discover the cause of the whale’s emaciated condition. Nothing obvious revealed itself that day, but the histology results may provide some answers. This analysis is still in process and could take months.
Based on similar cases of malnourished male sperm whales beached on the Gulf and East Coast of the United States, some scientists suggest that there may be a food source depletion, while others speculate that there may be a gastrointestinal parasite that produces ulcerations in the stomach. Regardless, it is important that the population is monitored for disease and human interaction to collect data that can be referenced when laws are considered to further protect vulnerable marine mammal populations. This broader purpose is the reason that this event affects me differently than the vigilant woman who insisted on connecting spiritually with the whale. However, nature always has a way of getting through my methodology to strike me with something unexpected and thought-provoking.
We would be remiss to think that these sentient animals are unable to observe our behavior as well. Although I don’t like to make assumptions, it’s probably safe to say that they can sense the difference between malicious and benevolent intent as we poured buckets of water and placed wet towels over its body. Aside from observations within the barrier, I noticed an immense range of reactions from the public on the other side. I saw many somber faces, yet I also heard comments like “Where is George Costanza when you need him?” and “Are we going to blow it up?”
My faith in humanity was restored by the locals. They know my name, and they observe Sea Turtle Patrol HHI on the beach as a staple for their daily beach check-in. They are proud and confident in efforts for the preservation of marine life. They are the residents of Hilton Head Island, and I didn’t realize how many of them have my cell number!
Thank you to the resident who pedaled home to make me coffee, to the one who carried a cooler filled with Gatorade on her bike, and to the one who asked me to pose for a picture while they cheered to lift my spirits. At the end of the third day, a fellow boat captain graciously provided sandwiches for all personnel working on the whale after it was buried in a 10-foot-deep hole at the base of the dune.
Special thanks to the Town of Hilton Head Island Code Enforcement and Beach Operations Department, Shore Beach Services, Beaufort County Sheriff’s Department, SCDNR Law Enforcement, the hospitality teams at Marriott’s Grande Ocean and Hilton’s Ocean Oak, JS Construction Services, and the Sea Turtle Patrol HHI volunteers for their contributions to this effort. Their coordination, dedication, and generosity played an essential role in making this difficult and emotional response possible.
I’m sorry I forgot how much this island community shows up for each other. It took a sperm whale stranding to remind me that there is a network on this island that cares about the sacrifices made to preserve our amazing natural resources..
