Taki’s aakaaluk, her grandmother, sewed the three Arctic whales into a red blanket with yellow thread the color of the morning sun over the waters.
"With the beluga whale, I hope curiosity and song into the life of the baby," she whispered, "For the beluga look quizzical in the way they hold their heads and sing songs that cause us to call them the canaries of the sea.
With the narwhal whale, I hope compassion and empathy into the life of the baby, for the narwhal will place the tip of it's own hornlike tooth into the broken tooth of another narwhal to ease it’s suffering and pain.
And with the bowhead whale, I hope mystery and endurance into the life of the baby, for the bowhead's name, Balaena mysticetus, best describes it's mysterious ways.
Because of the cold, cold Arctic water, it’s heart beats slowly and it’s life lives longer than any other creature in the world.”
Taki looked up into the weathered faces of her parents with her deep brown eyes.
She whistled a beautiful song.
She was a beautiful song.
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