Attack of the knife-wielding sealer
As I awake, the sun is streaming through the windows of my enormous attic room. That’s a good sign. I also can’t hear any wind, so I guess that the storm has now passed. By the time I arrive at the HSUS’s offices, the first group is already out there on the ice. Yesterday I suffered a real dip when it turned out that the helicopters couldn’t take off at all. Luckily I wasn’t the only one left wandering around looking dejected. We’re all so heavily involved in this sealing campaign and the fate of the poor seals that it hits us all hard to just be left hanging around waiting.
This morning someone tried to play an April Fool’s joke by sending the HSUS office an e-mail saying that Canadian fisheries minter Geoff Regan had organised a press conference announcing an immediate end to the hunt, Very convincing, though no-one could quite believe it. It took a minute for the penny to drop and realise just what date it was! It was less amusing to hear that the Sea Shepherd crew were due to be arraigned at 11.00 am. I still find it scandalous how these guys are being treated. Not only are they attacked by sealers wielding hakapiks, but then they are arrested instead of their attackers.
At noon the time has come. I’m back in a swelteringly hot survival suit on the way to the heliport. Today it’s really going to happen. When we arrive the morning crew has already returned. Everybody is talking ten to the dozen about the fantastic film material they’ve shot and their exciting adventures. Just as the Sea Shepherd crew yesterday, our colleagues were forced to flee from a bunch of sealers brandishing hakapiks. With all of their heavy camera equipment this must have been extremely dangerous since they were seriously impeded by the stuff they were carrying. At such times one also doesn’t bother checking whether the ice below your feet is truly safe. Later would I discover for myself just how scary such as situation can be when a sealer decides to go after our group with a skinning knife!
It has been a really heavy day. Nevertheless, the day begins really serenely. The five of us board a helicopter together with Guillame, our pilot. He first gives us a safety talk and explains to us, amongst other things, how to avoid being decapitated by the rotor blades. I develop a healthy respect for this technology and make a mental note to do everything he says. Strangely enough, in my mind helicopters and seals are inextricably bound. The last time I got into one was to travel to the Isles of Scilly, some 45km from the most South-westerly point of England, where I could observe a colony of grey seals from a small boat. I fondly remember watching them lazily sunning themselves on the rocks and cavorting in the water. This helicopter flight to the seals will be quite different. At least 300.000 harp seals will never get the chance to enjoy life as an adult seal this year.
As we fly towards the Magdalen Islands across the Gulf of St. Lawrence, we suddenly see hundreds of young harp seals crawling across the ice. The noise of the helicopter appears to disturb them. Most of these animals are beaters, but there are also still some Ragged Jackets to be seen from the air. Some beaters have even begun to learn how to swim. Every now and then you see a small head emerge out of the water. My sheer enjoyment of these seals and this magical ice world is short-lived. It does not take long before we see the first signs of the bloody hunt of these beautiful marine mammals. We can see long trails of fresh blood stain the pristine ice, hundreds of skinned carcasses left by the sealers to rot on the ice and, of course, the sealers boats too.
Before we make our first attempt to land on the ice, we must complete a very different mission. We have to fly to the Sea Shepherd to not only collect their film material, but also to deliver Lisa Shalom, one of the arrestees, back safely to her colleagues. Being a Canadian citizen she was released earlier than her colleagues. It’s great to finally see the beautifully painted Farley Mowat for real and to meet one of her courageous crew. Just behind the Farley Mowat there is the threatening presence of a Coastguard ice-breaker. It is clear that the stand-off that has been going on for days still continues.
We land on the ice in the neighbourhood of a large sealing boat that clearly has trouble getting through the ice. Her crew is busy clubbing and skinning seals. We put on special cramp-ons and are given special sticks to test the ice in front us. In some places the ice is very thin, or there are fissures in it, or it is so badly broken op that one has to jump from one floe to the other. This scares me shitless, especially when at one point I come into difficulties when one foot slips into a crevice. Fortunately Pierre, my ice guide, come to my aid.
As we get closer to the sealers we end up having a good laugh. One of them decides to drop his trousers and moon at us. He then turns around and pretends to jerk himself off. It’s absurd. None of us are impressed and we only find it hilarious. He realises this and gives up his attempt to taunt us and gets back to skinning seals. There’s certainly nothing amusing about that.
Close by is a seal of about three weeks old. We spend some time taking photos of him. Although I’m enjoying the fact that I can see him so close-up, I know damned well that this defenceless, sweet little animal will soon meet his death at the hands of a sadistic sealer. These people simply hate the seals. They regard them as swimming cockroaches that rob them of their income from fishing. The DFO upholds this myth even though there is no real scientific evidence to prove that the seals are responsible for the depletion of fish stocks in this area. I feel a wave of emotion flooding over me as I observe this young creature. I’m overcome by intense sadness that he has been born into a world where he has little chance of reaching adulthood.
I’m fortunately distracted by the film recordings that the HSUS set up for us. Krista van Velzen and I ask each other questions in front of the cameras with a young seal and a sealing vessel in the background. We then move on to another place where seals are being killed. We have to keep a 10 metre distance at all times from the sealers, but I can see everything up close through the powerful lens of my camera. Their clubs smash down on the delicate skulls of defenceless seals and then they drag their bodies, sometimes still writhing, to a pile where they are skinned by someone else. A skidoo stands ready to transport all of the pelts back to their ships. The ice is drenched in the blood of the animals that they have dragged back to the pile using their hakapiks.
As we walk a little further I encounter two freshly killed seals that have not yet been collected. They are still so warm that steam rises from their bloodied bodies. I take of my glove and stroke one of them across the back. Her spotted skin is so soft and she is so terribly small. They are still babies. I find myself silently apologising to them for the crimes committed against them by my fellow humans. These animals have done nothing to deserve this. As I touch her head, I can feel that her skull has been shattered. It is supposed to be hard, but is instead as soft as a sponge. How can someone do such a terrible thing to a defenceless creature? Why did she have to die just because some witless individual wants to wear her skin on her own back?
Today I seek refuge in my photography. In creating a visual record of the atrocities that I have seen. Looking at the world through a lens gives one a different view on life. Only when I get back to my room and upload these images do I actually burst into tears. Especially when I see the images of these two young seals. I suspect that this image will continue to be etched into my memory forever.
I also take impressive pictures from the air. Of ships that are encircles with cadavers and ice that is completely stained with their blood, but also of our own helicopters and the spectacular scenery.
The major drama begins when we land on the ice close to a group of sealers. We head in their direction to film and photograph what they are up to. They are none too pleased and suddenly a couple of them start to come at us. One of them is brandishing a huge knife that he has just been using to skin baby seals. We retreat to be able to keep the necessary 10 metre distance. This is also at the expense of our own safety. We have to move so fast that we are no longer so careful about where we are stepping. This crazy sealer keeps coming at us waving his knife and swearing at us in French. He most likely comes from the Magdalen Islands, whose residents have a serious reputation for being aggressive towards huntwatchers. We come to a halt as we get close to out helicopters. This nutter stands there opposite Rebecca Aldworth arguing in French.
In the meantime, 2 IFAW helicopters have landed on the ice to film this group of sealers, but leave their engines and blades running. Their people get chased back to their choppers by the younger colleagues of this knife-wielding maniac. I decide to step back and record this incident. It seems like the smartest and safest move. After he seems to have done shouting ten minutes later, we return to our own flying machines where our pilots have been observing the entire spectacle.
We want to take off sharpish , but this guy decides to stand too close to the helicopter and we are concerned that he might get injured or attempt to sabotage the craft. This can also be really dangerous. Just as our other helicopter takes off, two coastguard helicopters arrive. We are ordered to remain on the ground and turn off the blades. They briefly talk to the sealer and sent him off to merrily continue his bloody work, while we are asked to show our permits. It’s already getting late and our pilot wants to get back before sunset. He’s also concerned about his fuel levels.
Of course, this whole scene has been more or less staged by the sealers. They see our helicopters arriving and ensure that we break the distance rule, thus calling in the coastguard and police to teach us a lesson. The question remains whether they will pull our licences. It is too ridiculous for words!
In the end, we are allowed to leave and take off for home. This time I get to sit up front in the helicopter and I am again treated to the sight of hundreds of living seals on the ice and in the water. Tomorrow, weather permitting, I shall again head out to the ice. Undoubtedly I shall see many more terrible things and have more horrifying takes to tell.
This morning someone tried to play an April Fool’s joke by sending the HSUS office an e-mail saying that Canadian fisheries minter Geoff Regan had organised a press conference announcing an immediate end to the hunt, Very convincing, though no-one could quite believe it. It took a minute for the penny to drop and realise just what date it was! It was less amusing to hear that the Sea Shepherd crew were due to be arraigned at 11.00 am. I still find it scandalous how these guys are being treated. Not only are they attacked by sealers wielding hakapiks, but then they are arrested instead of their attackers.
At noon the time has come. I’m back in a swelteringly hot survival suit on the way to the heliport. Today it’s really going to happen. When we arrive the morning crew has already returned. Everybody is talking ten to the dozen about the fantastic film material they’ve shot and their exciting adventures. Just as the Sea Shepherd crew yesterday, our colleagues were forced to flee from a bunch of sealers brandishing hakapiks. With all of their heavy camera equipment this must have been extremely dangerous since they were seriously impeded by the stuff they were carrying. At such times one also doesn’t bother checking whether the ice below your feet is truly safe. Later would I discover for myself just how scary such as situation can be when a sealer decides to go after our group with a skinning knife!
It has been a really heavy day. Nevertheless, the day begins really serenely. The five of us board a helicopter together with Guillame, our pilot. He first gives us a safety talk and explains to us, amongst other things, how to avoid being decapitated by the rotor blades. I develop a healthy respect for this technology and make a mental note to do everything he says. Strangely enough, in my mind helicopters and seals are inextricably bound. The last time I got into one was to travel to the Isles of Scilly, some 45km from the most South-westerly point of England, where I could observe a colony of grey seals from a small boat. I fondly remember watching them lazily sunning themselves on the rocks and cavorting in the water. This helicopter flight to the seals will be quite different. At least 300.000 harp seals will never get the chance to enjoy life as an adult seal this year.
As we fly towards the Magdalen Islands across the Gulf of St. Lawrence, we suddenly see hundreds of young harp seals crawling across the ice. The noise of the helicopter appears to disturb them. Most of these animals are beaters, but there are also still some Ragged Jackets to be seen from the air. Some beaters have even begun to learn how to swim. Every now and then you see a small head emerge out of the water. My sheer enjoyment of these seals and this magical ice world is short-lived. It does not take long before we see the first signs of the bloody hunt of these beautiful marine mammals. We can see long trails of fresh blood stain the pristine ice, hundreds of skinned carcasses left by the sealers to rot on the ice and, of course, the sealers boats too.
Before we make our first attempt to land on the ice, we must complete a very different mission. We have to fly to the Sea Shepherd to not only collect their film material, but also to deliver Lisa Shalom, one of the arrestees, back safely to her colleagues. Being a Canadian citizen she was released earlier than her colleagues. It’s great to finally see the beautifully painted Farley Mowat for real and to meet one of her courageous crew. Just behind the Farley Mowat there is the threatening presence of a Coastguard ice-breaker. It is clear that the stand-off that has been going on for days still continues.
We land on the ice in the neighbourhood of a large sealing boat that clearly has trouble getting through the ice. Her crew is busy clubbing and skinning seals. We put on special cramp-ons and are given special sticks to test the ice in front us. In some places the ice is very thin, or there are fissures in it, or it is so badly broken op that one has to jump from one floe to the other. This scares me shitless, especially when at one point I come into difficulties when one foot slips into a crevice. Fortunately Pierre, my ice guide, come to my aid.
As we get closer to the sealers we end up having a good laugh. One of them decides to drop his trousers and moon at us. He then turns around and pretends to jerk himself off. It’s absurd. None of us are impressed and we only find it hilarious. He realises this and gives up his attempt to taunt us and gets back to skinning seals. There’s certainly nothing amusing about that.
Close by is a seal of about three weeks old. We spend some time taking photos of him. Although I’m enjoying the fact that I can see him so close-up, I know damned well that this defenceless, sweet little animal will soon meet his death at the hands of a sadistic sealer. These people simply hate the seals. They regard them as swimming cockroaches that rob them of their income from fishing. The DFO upholds this myth even though there is no real scientific evidence to prove that the seals are responsible for the depletion of fish stocks in this area. I feel a wave of emotion flooding over me as I observe this young creature. I’m overcome by intense sadness that he has been born into a world where he has little chance of reaching adulthood.
I’m fortunately distracted by the film recordings that the HSUS set up for us. Krista van Velzen and I ask each other questions in front of the cameras with a young seal and a sealing vessel in the background. We then move on to another place where seals are being killed. We have to keep a 10 metre distance at all times from the sealers, but I can see everything up close through the powerful lens of my camera. Their clubs smash down on the delicate skulls of defenceless seals and then they drag their bodies, sometimes still writhing, to a pile where they are skinned by someone else. A skidoo stands ready to transport all of the pelts back to their ships. The ice is drenched in the blood of the animals that they have dragged back to the pile using their hakapiks.
As we walk a little further I encounter two freshly killed seals that have not yet been collected. They are still so warm that steam rises from their bloodied bodies. I take of my glove and stroke one of them across the back. Her spotted skin is so soft and she is so terribly small. They are still babies. I find myself silently apologising to them for the crimes committed against them by my fellow humans. These animals have done nothing to deserve this. As I touch her head, I can feel that her skull has been shattered. It is supposed to be hard, but is instead as soft as a sponge. How can someone do such a terrible thing to a defenceless creature? Why did she have to die just because some witless individual wants to wear her skin on her own back?
Today I seek refuge in my photography. In creating a visual record of the atrocities that I have seen. Looking at the world through a lens gives one a different view on life. Only when I get back to my room and upload these images do I actually burst into tears. Especially when I see the images of these two young seals. I suspect that this image will continue to be etched into my memory forever.
I also take impressive pictures from the air. Of ships that are encircles with cadavers and ice that is completely stained with their blood, but also of our own helicopters and the spectacular scenery.
The major drama begins when we land on the ice close to a group of sealers. We head in their direction to film and photograph what they are up to. They are none too pleased and suddenly a couple of them start to come at us. One of them is brandishing a huge knife that he has just been using to skin baby seals. We retreat to be able to keep the necessary 10 metre distance. This is also at the expense of our own safety. We have to move so fast that we are no longer so careful about where we are stepping. This crazy sealer keeps coming at us waving his knife and swearing at us in French. He most likely comes from the Magdalen Islands, whose residents have a serious reputation for being aggressive towards huntwatchers. We come to a halt as we get close to out helicopters. This nutter stands there opposite Rebecca Aldworth arguing in French.
In the meantime, 2 IFAW helicopters have landed on the ice to film this group of sealers, but leave their engines and blades running. Their people get chased back to their choppers by the younger colleagues of this knife-wielding maniac. I decide to step back and record this incident. It seems like the smartest and safest move. After he seems to have done shouting ten minutes later, we return to our own flying machines where our pilots have been observing the entire spectacle.
We want to take off sharpish , but this guy decides to stand too close to the helicopter and we are concerned that he might get injured or attempt to sabotage the craft. This can also be really dangerous. Just as our other helicopter takes off, two coastguard helicopters arrive. We are ordered to remain on the ground and turn off the blades. They briefly talk to the sealer and sent him off to merrily continue his bloody work, while we are asked to show our permits. It’s already getting late and our pilot wants to get back before sunset. He’s also concerned about his fuel levels.
Of course, this whole scene has been more or less staged by the sealers. They see our helicopters arriving and ensure that we break the distance rule, thus calling in the coastguard and police to teach us a lesson. The question remains whether they will pull our licences. It is too ridiculous for words!
In the end, we are allowed to leave and take off for home. This time I get to sit up front in the helicopter and I am again treated to the sight of hundreds of living seals on the ice and in the water. Tomorrow, weather permitting, I shall again head out to the ice. Undoubtedly I shall see many more terrible things and have more horrifying takes to tell.
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