For Alex Ootoowak, watching speckled gray narwhals streaming through Arctic waters during hunting season is a treasured childhood memory. Ootoowak, who lives in Mittimatalik (Pond Inlet) in Canada’s far north, recalls whales migrating past in a steady, looping procession. “You’re always taught to be extra, extra quiet and careful … because they’re so sensitive,” he said.
More than 80,000 narwhals live mainly in northeastern Canada and Greenland. For Inuit communities like Mittimatalik’s, narwhal meat has sustained people for at least a millennium, supplying protein, iron and vitamin C. Hunting is regulated and remains an important cultural practice. “This is our means of staying healthy and connected to the land and our culture,” Ootoowak said. “It’s not something we do just to kill and take animals for sport.”
But the migrations Ootoowak remembers have become rare. Over the last two decades hunters have reported skinnier animals and fewer catches. By 2021, local tallies suggested only about 2,000 narwhals remained in the area — roughly a 90% drop from more than 20,000 in the early 2000s.
The reasons for the decline are unclear. Researchers point to climate change — the Arctic is warming far faster than the global average — which alters ice, water temperatures and food webs. Kristin Westdal, a marine mammal specialist with Oceans North, noted that many Arctic conditions are changing, but those changes are generally gradual. “The only thing that changed that quickly in that habitat was the volume of ships coming through,” she said.
In 2015, Baffinland opened a port near Mittimatalik to ship iron ore. Within two years millions of tons of ore passed through nearby waters and underwater noise increased sharply. Concerned by the new acoustic footprint, Ootoowak and Westdal installed two listening stations in Milne Inlet and later partnered with acousticians at the Scripps Institution of Oceanography to expand monitoring.
Using hydrophones lowered through ice to depths around 800 meters, the team recorded the underwater soundscape continuously: seals, foraging narwhals clicking and calling, and the low-frequency rumble of ship engines. Their analysis, published in 2025, found that when vessels came within roughly 20 to 40 kilometers (12 to 24 miles), narwhals either moved away or stopped vocalizing. The whales reacted to sound levels below about 120 decibels — roughly comparable to a loud thunderclap or a roaring chainsaw — a level known to disturb midsized whales.
Hunters observed similar behavior. Ootoowak said narwhals would stop feeding and abandon deep foraging dives when ships started engines, avoiding heavily traveled channels. Over time, this disruption could reduce feeding success and body condition, matching reports of leaner animals.
Some hunters suspect the whales may be moving east toward Greenland. On a 2024 visit to northern Greenland, Ootoowak spoke with local hunters who reported “foreign” narwhals — longer, skinnier whales with different behavior and taste — appearing at the same time shipping rose off Mittimatalik. Outi Tervo, a senior scientist at the Greenland Institute of Natural Resources, has documented how noise from shipping and oil and gas exploration can interrupt narwhal foraging. While she hasn’t found definitive evidence that Canadian narwhals relocated en masse to Greenland, she agrees that unfamiliar or increased noise could alter migration and habitat use.
Narwhals rely on echolocation to navigate, communicate and hunt in dark, icy waters. Tervo likened hearing for narwhals to sight for humans: sounds that mask echolocation can be as disabling as a flashlight shining in our eyes, leaving whales “ready to escape.” Because narwhal habitat options are limited and specialized, Tervo emphasizes the need to consider animal needs and create safe havens.
The monitoring project has also driven management changes. Baffinland has lowered speeds to about nine knots, adopted fixed transit routes and agreed to stricter rules for icebreaker use. Cruise lines operating in the region have accepted speed limits and no-go zones. Those measures appeared to help: Ootoowak said the 2025 fall hunt was the first in a decade that community members were pleased with what they harvested.
Westdal noted that stronger oversight, collaboration with local communities and more acoustic data will be essential as Arctic waters open and interest in trans-Arctic shipping grows. “We are seeing a slow and steady increase of people showing interest and trying to get through there,” she said. Policies and regulations tailored to the Arctic will be important for anticipating and managing future impacts.
This article was based on an episode of Living Planet produced by Kathleen Schuster.
Edited by: Sarah Steffen