They call him “52,” which isn’t as much a name as much as a measurement, since that’s the frequency, in hertz, of his bleating, electric call. He’s said to have been making it, unanswered, for years. The trouble: Other whales, quite literally, aren’t on his frequency. Maybe they can hear him, but his songs are so different from theirs that they don’t understand them and never respond.
Still, 52 keeps calling. And calling.
Shouting into oblivion — alone and out to sea.
This brooding, lone-wolf lifestyle — the Rihanna-at-the-Grammys of the ocean — has earned 52 another nickname: “the loneliest whale in the world.” And it’s made Josh Zeman, a 40-year-old filmmaker who described the particulars of 52’s situation to me, really freaking determined to find him.
Sound a little like “Moby Dick”?
Yep, he’s thought of that, too.
“We’re talking about themes that are very ingrained in our society,” he said.
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That’s why I hope Zeman gets to make his film.
So we can know the ocean a little better.
And, in the process, know ourselves.
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