In morning bright as day a white beluga whale, luminous in the sapphire sea, approaches my kayak. Summoned by my thrashing paddle, he swims alongside the vessel. At once he tilts a bit to look my way, through dark, knowing eyes, as if to check me out. Apparently concluding I am friend, not foe, he begins to nibble and tug, ever so gently, on the end of my paddle. A friendly tug-of-war, no less! I am neither surprised nor threatened. Belugas, like other cetaceans, have a reputation for kindred spirit encounters with man. Indeed, he seems as inquisitive as I.

Unlike the bona fide grin of his dolphin cousin, the beluga's smile is subtle, like the Mona Lisa's, with the same aura of mystery. Add a flexible neck to the wry smile and you have a whale of whimsy, a white ghost of blue water, agile and friendly, but elusive.

Sailors of yesteryear heard belugas through the wooden hulls of their ships, and in what must have been a gesture of kindness began to call them "sea canaries." For whatever reason the nickname stuck, probably because they are highly vocal, vying with humpbacks to see which species can make the most noise. Most judges call it a tie. But it's no contest in the "carry a tune" category, belugas losing hands down. A pod of belugas calls to mind a youth orchestra, first practice. Sounds have been described as assorted clicks, creaks, groans, and brays, with an occasional chirp thrown in. Despite the woeful revues, the complexity of sounds suggests a much nuanced inner world as the beluga confronts a wide range of experiences-birth, nurturing, death, etc-just like us. (next photo)