Whale Watchers They walk up steep hillsides backwards scanning horizon’s emptiness, greet every glimpse of sprays and snorts with hallelujahs, hosannas. Tired of distant whale-spurts, they chase Leviathan in motor boats; roles reverse: they cower on the deck when humpbacks burst from their pods flaunting enormous flukes, whack the surface for a bit of fun, dive under-boat and pop out on the other side. It’s all too much: shakylegs, they wobble ashore, eke out the year with dolphin-watch and whales happily disappear with calves in tow into inky deep southern seas, watching out for Japanese—who’d be a minke? Such for…