According to a 2004 New York Times article
on the subject, this particular baleen whale has apparently been
tracked by NOAA since 1992, using a "classified array of hydrophones
employed by the Navy to monitor enemy submarines." It sings at 52 Hertz,
which is roughly the same frequency as the lowest note on a tuba, and
much higher than its fellow whales, whose calls fall in the 15 to 25
Hertz range.
To make matters worse, the high-pitched whale "does not follow the known migration route of any extant baleen whale species." The result, according to Dr. Kate Stafford, a researcher at the National Marine Mammal Laboratory in Seattle, is that the lonely whale keeps "saying 'Hey, I'm out here,'" but "nobody is phoning home."
The cryptozoologist Oll Lewis speculates that the lonely whale might be "a deformed hybrid between two different species of whale," or even "the last surviving member of an unknown species." Gagliano points out that the whale's plight, though poignant, has a silver lining for scientists:
To make matters worse, the high-pitched whale "does not follow the known migration route of any extant baleen whale species." The result, according to Dr. Kate Stafford, a researcher at the National Marine Mammal Laboratory in Seattle, is that the lonely whale keeps "saying 'Hey, I'm out here,'" but "nobody is phoning home."
The cryptozoologist Oll Lewis speculates that the lonely whale might be "a deformed hybrid between two different species of whale," or even "the last surviving member of an unknown species." Gagliano points out that the whale's plight, though poignant, has a silver lining for scientists:
Because this one whale’s song is totally different than any other
whale’s, it’s easy to track it and hear how its voice changes over time.
So now we know, for instance, that a whale’s voice gets deeper as it
ages.
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