Then they'd crack open the skulls and take out the oil. Good money too. My Granpa didn't care about them whales except to cut them open, he said. Today they want to push the blackfish back into the water alive to save them. Not me though.
Nature is nature.
If they are meant to die then let the bastards die. Again my whale story gathered no interest. So I told Poke goodbye, made my deposit, noted the time, then hopped into the wagon and headed around the rotary to the fish pier on Route 28 called Orleans Road to the north. But the state green and white road signs say that I'm heading on Route 28 south. Visitors complain about that all the time.