A patch of silver mist lingered over Witless Bay as Eunice, a grand lady of the sea, swept gracefully through the kelp-draped waters, her presence as familiar to the returning capelin as the seabirds overhead.

Eunice had a habit of showing up right on cue, always in mid-July when the days stretched long and the coast hummed with summer life. From 2001 onwards, every year around the same time, she was spotted gliding between the emerald islands of Witless Bay. It’s almost as if the rocks and waves expected her, and so did the whale watchers, hoping for another reunion.

One July blurred into the next: 2002, 2003, 2004, and again in 2005—each sighting a little celebration, a chance for onlookers to spot that gentle arching back and wide, shadowy flukes. Then, just when it seemed Eunice might’ve settled into her routine forever, there came a pause. For six years, bay regulars watched the swells and wondered: had Eunice found a new favourite haunt? Was she lost behind the fog banks, chasing shoals in distant waters?

As it happens, Eunice returned in 2011, and this time, she wasn’t alone—a young calf trailed behind, learning the ancient ballet of the tides. Two years later, Eunice was once more sighted with another calf, her family growing along these waters under the watchful gaze of seabirds and stargazers alike. From the sound of things, Witless Bay has become a family tradition for Eunice, her legacy rippling across generations.