They Followed Each Other Into the Thames. Two Never Made It Back Out.

What a pod of pilot whales made me think about loyalty, friendship, relationships, and finding your tribe.

I’ve become slightly obsessed with the pilot whales in the Thames.

Around 25 long-finned pilot whales suddenly appeared in one of Britain’s busiest waterways.

The bloody Thames.

These are animals that normally favour cooler, deeper offshore waters beyond the continental shelf in the Atlantic. Yet there they were, moving through the Thames Estuary around East Tilbury, Kent and Essex.

And, because my brain works the way it does, alongside worrying about them I couldn’t help wondering what on earth they thought of Kent and Essex.

Imagine being used to the open Atlantic and suddenly finding yourself surrounded by container ships, industrial docks, traffic and the general chaos of the Thames.

Where the fuck have you brought us, Derek? 😂🐋

There was something magical about seeing them there.

And something incredibly worrying.

Because these weren’t animals where they would normally be.

And now we know that two of them died.

One female was found dead near East Tilbury. Another female became separated from the pod as they were being encouraged towards the outer estuary, briefly stranded at Canvey Island, refloated, and was sadly found dead the following morning.

Post-mortem examinations are being carried out, so we don’t yet know exactly why they died.

And that makes the story even more heartbreaking.

Because while I’ve been reading about them, I’ve learnt something about pilot whales that I can’t stop thinking about.

They don’t easily leave one another behind.

Pilot whales form exceptionally close family bonds.

They live in tight-knit social groups, and BDMLR says they can follow sick, injured or lost members of their pod, sometimes even into situations that put the rest of them in danger.

Now, I’m a therapist, not a whale behaviour researcher. 😂

So I’m not going to give them human thoughts and announce that I know what they were thinking.

I don’t.

We have to be careful about turning animal behaviour into a lovely human story because it suits the point we’re trying to make.

However, we can observe their extraordinary social bonds.

And bloody hell, they’ve made me think about ours.

Because there’s something quite beautiful about a species whose instinct is so strongly oriented towards togetherness.

And perhaps humans could learn a little something from that.

Loyalty isn’t blindly sticking up for somebody.

I think sometimes we’ve completely cocked up the meaning of loyalty.

We think loyalty means defending our people regardless of what they’ve done.

Backing them publicly even when we know they’re wrong.

Keeping secrets that shouldn’t be kept.

Agreeing because they’re family.

Taking someone’s side because they’re our friend.

That’s not the kind of loyalty I’m talking about.

Real loyalty can actually be quite uncomfortable.

Sometimes it sounds like:

“I love you. I’m here. And what you’re doing isn’t okay.”

A good friend doesn’t necessarily tell you what you want to hear.

A good partner shouldn’t have to agree with everything you say.

Your tribe shouldn’t enable you to keep hurting yourself or other people because challenging you might upset you.

Sometimes the person most willing to tell you that you’re being a bit of a dick is the person who loves you enough to risk you being pissed off with them.

Accountability and loyalty can exist in the same relationship.

Perhaps loyalty isn’t I’ll always take your side.

Perhaps it’s:

I won’t abandon you simply because life got difficult.

There’s a huge difference.

Who stays when you’re no longer easy to be around?

That question has really sat with me.

Because human beings can be bloody uncomfortable with struggle.

Grief.

Addiction.

Depression.

Illness.

Shame.

Relationship breakdown.

Financial problems.

Trauma.

The friend who has disappeared a little because they’re overwhelmed.

The person who doesn’t have much to give back right now.

The one who isn’t funny, helpful, organised or entertaining anymore.

It’s quite easy to love people when they’re bringing something lovely to our lives.

It’s much harder when they’re struggling.

And again, I’m not talking about staying in abusive or harmful relationships.

Being loyal does not require sacrificing yourself.

You are allowed boundaries.

You are allowed to leave relationships that are damaging you.

You are allowed to stop carrying somebody who repeatedly refuses responsibility for their own behaviour.

Staying connected doesn’t mean drowning alongside somebody.

Sometimes love means stepping back.

Yet sometimes I wonder whether we’ve become so frightened of discomfort that we’re also leaving people behind who don’t need fixing or rescuing.

They need somebody to sit beside them and say:

“I’m still here.”

That’s what a tribe is to me.

Not thousands of Facebook friends.

Not followers.

Not people who like everything you post.

Not somebody who says “anything you need” and then disappears when you actually need something.

A tribe is different.

They’re the people who notice you’ve gone quiet.

The ones who check in without needing something first.

The ones you can tell the ugly stuff to.

The ones who celebrate you without competing with you.

Who can laugh with you until your face hurts.

Who can sit beside you when there’s absolutely fuck all funny about life.

Who let you change.

Who don’t require you to make yourself smaller so they can feel bigger.

Who don’t only love the version of you that’s useful to them.

And they’re the people who can say:

Louise, I love you dearly, but you’re talking absolute bollocks.

😂

That’s belonging.

And then there’s the human tribe that formed around these whales.

This part of the story matters too.

Because humans showed up.

BDMLR Marine Mammal Medics monitored the whales. The Port of London Authority coordinated activity on the water. Coastguard teams, Kent Fire and Rescue Service, Civil Air Support and other responders became involved.

Specialist whale rescue equipment was moved by aircraft so it could be available quickly if needed.

Boats spent around six hours guiding the pod more than 20 nautical miles towards the outer estuary and open sea.

Aircraft later searched the estuary and coastline to see whether whales had turned back or become stranded.

No further members of the main pod were seen during Sunday’s aerial search.

Think about that.

People with different jobs.

Different skills.

Different organisations.

Some probably complete strangers to each other before this happened.

All coordinating around one purpose:

Something vulnerable needs help.

And behind the rescuers are years of knowledge, research, training and experience.

People have studied these animals.

People have learnt from previous strandings.

People have developed equipment and techniques.

People train to respond when something goes wrong.

Even the famous Thames whale incident twenty years ago contributed to public understanding of marine-mammal rescue and welfare, and BDMLR describes the lasting legacy as both a shared memory and a responsibility.

There’s something incredibly moving about that too.

Especially when you look at the world at the moment.

We’re surrounded by division.

Us and them.

Pick a side.

Hate this group.

Blame that group.

People who have never met screaming at each other through screens.

Sometimes it feels like we’re becoming increasingly skilled at identifying all the ways we’re different and increasingly crap at remembering all the ways we’re the same.

And then 25 whales take a wrong turn into the Thames and suddenly people mobilise.

Equipment gets moved.

Boats appear.

Experts communicate.

People watch and hope.

For a little while the question isn’t:

Which side are you on?

It’s simply:

How can we help?

I think we need more of that.

Maybe we all need to find our pod.

I don’t mean twenty-five people.

Your pod might be three.

It might be one.

I’d rather have two people who genuinely know me than two hundred who only know the version of me I perform.

Find the people who let you be yourself.

Find the ones who make you feel safe enough to say the stupid question out loud.

Find people who challenge you with love rather than shame.

Find the ones who don’t disappear the second your life becomes inconvenient.

Find the people who clap when something wonderful happens to you rather than secretly hoping you’ll fall.

And then be that person too.

Check in.

Make the call.

Send the ridiculous meme.

Ask twice when somebody says they’re fine and you know they’re not.

Apologise when you’re wrong.

Tell your friend they’re being a dick when necessary. 😂

Sit beside somebody when you can’t fix what hurts.

Let people know they’re loved while they’re still here to hear it.

Because perhaps one of the most important things we can ever give another living being is the feeling:

You don’t have to do this bit alone.

Two of those beautiful whales didn’t make it back out.

And that’s incredibly sad.

We don’t yet know why they died, and I hope the post-mortem examinations help researchers understand more.

However the rest of their pod gave me something I wasn’t expecting.

They made me think about loyalty.

Relationships.

Friendship.

Community.

The people we choose.

The people who choose us.

The difference between being surrounded by people and actually belonging.

And the incredible things that can happen when humans stop fighting amongst ourselves for five bloody minutes and work together.

Perhaps we aren’t so different after all.

We need connection.

We need community.

We need our tribe.

We need people who don’t blindly defend everything we do, but who care enough to remain curious about us.

People who know when to challenge us.

When to help us.

When to give us space.

And when to simply stay nearby.

Find your pod.

And when someone in it is struggling, make sure they know they haven’t been forgotten.

And wherever the remaining Thames whales are now, I really hope they’re back in deep water together.

Although I still desperately want to know what they thought of Kent and Essex.

I’m expecting an absolutely fucking brutal TripAdvisor review. 😂

Stay safe, stay connected & take gentle care

Louise