The sea has its share of unexpected music—sometimes it’s the crash of a distant wave, sometimes the quick, bright laughter of a whale called Tootle just out beyond the ragged cliffs of Bonavista. No storm nor fog could hush her, for she had a knack for showing up when the sun found a way to shine through the salt-swept air.

Tootle’s tale first unfurled one brisk July day in 2019, about four miles off Bonavista. The ocean there can be a mischievous thing, swirling with capelin and cold greenish-blue swells. Fisherfolk caught glimmers of white as she surfaced between the lurching waves, her breath rising in misty columns before she arched gracefully and slipped under again.

Seven years’ worth of seasons rolled by, and the ocean told no secrets. Yet in 2026, Tootle reappeared near Twillingate—a place where icebergs drift like sleepy ghosts most summers. There she was, plain as sunrise, her broad tail lifting above the cobalt water. Was she chasing capelin, or simply taking in the scattered light? Only she knows, and the gulls keep their guesses to themselves.

Such a wandering spirit suggests that Tootle might weave far and wide between the bays of Newfoundland and Labrador, leaving curious gaps in her story. Where has she been all this time? Perhaps underneath the northern lights, or shadowing the deep places untracked by any human eye.