Early this year, two watermen in separate boats were headed home to Smith Island when an astonishing sight evoked tales handed down from their forefathers a century ago.
One of the islanders, known for his sobriety and churchgoing, blurted on the marine radio, the party telephone line for that region: "I seen a . . . a whale!"
The other waterman, not known to share his neighbor's virtues, answered on the radio and sounded relieved: "I seen a whale too, but I was afraid if I told, everybody'd just say, 'There he goes again.' "
That may have been the first sighting of the pair of humpbacks that stayed in the Chesapeake from early March through mid-April. Measuring nearly 35 feet and weighing 20-40 tons, the giant mammals ranged as far north as the Bay Bridges.
There was speculation that they were sick and disoriented, and would strand themselves in the estuary's extensive shallows. But biologists who watched the whales said they appeared to be following large schools of bait fish, probably menhaden, and exhibited the "textbook feeding behavior of healthy animals."
To some watermen, the whales are a sign the bay is coming back to health. Certainly, it's exciting to think of enormous, exotic creatures gliding through the Chesapeake as perhaps they once did.
Was the visitation a once-in-a-lifetime aberration? Or the start of a new era?
An even larger whale of unknown type steamed up the bay briefly in 1991. Although world populations of humpbacks are only 10 per cent of pre-whaling levels, they and many kindred species of marine mammals are beginning to respond to years of concerted international protection.
L Many people believe dolphins, too, are returning to the bay.
"I think we're seeing an expansion of all kinds of marine mammals along the East Coast," says William P. Jensen, fisheries director of Maryland's Department of Natural Resources.
Other experts agree. "Once you leave whales and dolphins alone, which is what we've done for 20 years now, they may lose their fear of human contact and begin to visit places like the Chesapeake," says Craig Van Note, executive vice president of MONITOR, a national consortium of 35 marine mammal and animal welfare groups.
It is also possible, given the depleted state of some oceanic fish stocks, that marine mammals are having to forage for their dinner in more places, including Chesapeake Bay, Mr. Van Note speculates.
Whatever the reasons, wouldn't it be great to see more whales in the bay?
As much as we admire the natural world and lament the decline of wild creatures, our tolerance is less than we might want to admit for sharing space with those species so bold as to actually make a comeback.
The comebacks are happening already, in places as unlikely as suburban Maryland, and to an extent that surprises even the most hopeful wildlife managers.
But the return of the natives is not always accompanied by applause.
If I knew a young person who wanted a career combining the social sciences with the outdoors, I would recommend a dual major in counseling people and managing white-tailed deer.
The white-tail makes me think that conflict resolution among the higher and lesser animals will be a growth field of employment.
Reduced at the turn of the century to less than half a million animals, deer in North America now number perhaps 25 million.
Herds in Maryland have tripled during the last decade, and the fastest growth in numbers has been within the fastest-suburbanizing counties.
The jostling between animals and us has grown apace. Deer are ravaging gardens and landscaped yards and college campuses; carrying ticks that spread Lyme disease; making night driving a hazard; and turning up in schoolyards and urban streets.
And deer may be only the vanguard. Black bears are padding into suburban New Jersey, within 12 miles of Manhattan, and denning beneath vacation home decks in Pennsylvania's Poconos.
Recently, a young black bear -- they're making a comeback in Western Maryland -- wandered across the intersection of I-70 and the Baltimore Beltway.
The wild turkey, down to less than 30,000 nationwide in 1900, now is at an estimated four million gobblers, and is showing up in backyards across the U.S. with some regularity.
Coyotes, which have been expanding their range eastward for years, are now moving from Virginia and Pennsylvania into rural parts of Maryland.
Here's a warning to residents who are thinking of having fat old Tabby declawed to protect the furniture: coyotes prey on house cats.
Many Canadian geese, whose wild honking in flight thrills us fall and spring, from Labrador to North Carolina, are ceasing to migrate and now occupy golf courses and parks year round. As much as 10 per cent of the East Coast's goose population now follows such sedentary patterns.
Why the changes by bird and beast? The factors include protective laws, habitat restoration, an extraordinary string of warm winters, and the genetic adaptability of the species involved.