Beneath a sky as changeable as the North Atlantic itself, Tiffany cut a confident figure in the rolling June swell. Some whales linger on the ragged edges of memory, but Tiffany seemed content to glide right at the water’s edge, delighting those who’d made the long trip to St. Vincent’s for the privilege of her company.

Early summer brings richness to the Newfoundland coast, and Tiffany tucked into it with gusto. There she was on June 17, off St. Vincent’s—her broad back arching in the rising sun, sea mist curling like an old fisherman’s pipe smoke. By the next day, she’d found herself at St. Vincent’s Beach, offering a graceful spout for beach-strolling onlookers, a small gift from the depths.

Her visits to St. Vincent’s and its sandy stretches stretched over an entire week: June 21, 22, 23, and 24. Whether she was chasing capelin or sashaying through the green waves just because she could, Tiffany seemed right at home. For those few days, locals traded stories of her with pride, and Tiffany etched herself into the fabric of the coast itself.

As July tiptoed to a close, Tiffany grew more elusive. On July 31, she crested at Ferryland—one blink and you’d miss her, a glimmer of white against the deep blue. Then, on an August breeze, she shifted north, seen twice on August 2 near Witless Bay. Whether those glimpses were two sightings or one, nobody could say. That’s the thing about Tiffany—she keeps you guessing, always a step ahead, swirling somewhere between certainty and daydream.