The Whales of Massachusetts Bay

wo whales surface in open water, one lifting its tail as it dives, with a large cruise ship and a smaller boat in the distance.

Everyone knows the humpback whales. I’ve chased them from Massachusetts to Hawaii to Alaska. They’re the show‑stoppers — the whales that arch their backs, lift their flukes high, breach like acrobats, and bring their calves right alongside the boats. Sometimes it feels like they’re watching us instead of the other way around. But as dramatic as humpbacks are, they aren’t the first whales to arrive each year. Whale season is opened by a very special group.

The Right Whales Come First

Right whales were named because whalers once considered them the “right” whales to hunt. Their massive heads were filled with valuable whale oil, and they floated when killed — a grim history that left us with a name we still use today.

These whales begin arriving in Cape Cod Bay as early as November, though January is more typical. The wind off the bay is still cold. The days are gray and dreary. The bright summer skies are months away, and the whale‑watch boats are still in dry dock. If you want to see right whales, you watch from shore. No close‑ups. No flukes. Just patience, binoculars, and the hope of spotting that distinctive V‑shaped blow.

Right whales exhale through two blowholes, creating a perfect V in the air — just like we exhale through two nostrils. It’s one of the easiest ways to identify them from land.

A Critically Endangered Visitor

These whales are critically endangered, and seeing them arrive is always an exciting moment. The current estimate is fewer than 350 North Atlantic right whales left, with only around 70 breeding females. And here in Massachusetts, we sit right on their annual migration path.

My 2011 Right‑Whale Day

Back in 2011, on a cold and blustery April day, I took a ride to the Cape just for something to do. The rangers at the National Seashore welcome center were buzzing — reports were coming in that right whales were visible from shore. Of course I had to check it out.

Sure enough, they were traveling along the shoreline in twos and threes. I stood on the sand watching for the blows, watching one pair pass on and another arrive, like a conveyor belt of whales moving steadily along the coast. It’s not a trip I take every year, but I’m grateful I got to witness that spectacle at least once.

Then Come the Humpbacks

As the weather warms, the humpbacks begin to arrive. They bring their calves, and you often get to see a mother and baby traveling together. The calves don’t look small — except next to mom. She teaches her young how to breach, feed, and survive. These are the whales we follow with the whale‑watch fleet.

Breaching Whale

On a whale watch, you can almost always count on humpbacks, but you might also spot fin whales, minke whales, and if you’re very lucky, a sei whale.

If You’ve Never Been on a Whale Watch

• Bring a sweatshirt or hoodie — it gets chilly on the water

• Binoculars aren’t required, but they’re fun if you have them

• If you’re prone to motion sickness, take your Dramamine

• Watch for bubble feeding, breaching, and flipper slaps

• A naturalist will help identify whales and sea life

• You might see Atlantic white‑sided dolphins

• You may spot an ocean sunfish

• Lots of birds near the surface often means whales are feeding

And more and more often these days, you may see a great white shark. The seal population has exploded, and the sharks follow their food. Sightings from whale‑watch boats do happen — usually just a fin slicing the surface or a quick shadow near a seal colony.

I find the ocean relaxing, sprinkled with moments of excitement when a whale appears.

Thar she blows.

 

From Sand Dunes to Shark Apps

Old Cape Cod, just as Patti Page imagined it — dunes, salty air, and a quiet stretch of shoreline that still remembers how things used to be.

Old Cape Cod: From Sand Dunes to Shark Apps

If you’re fond of sand dunes and salty air,

Quaint little villages here and there…

You’re sure to fall in love with old Cape Cod.

Patti Page sang those words in 1957, and the song didn’t just become a hit — it reshaped the Cape’s identity. That gentle, dreamy portrait of a sleepy peninsula helped launch Cape Cod into the national imagination. Tourists followed, then developers, and before long those “quaint little villages” gave way to strip malls, big‑box stores, and summer traffic that can test the patience of a saint.

But one thing never changed: the beaches. Crowded or not, they’re still the Cape’s heartbeat. And if we take a little walk through time, we can see just how much this place has transformed since Patti Page made musical history.

A Peninsula Born of Ice

Cape Cod is a hooked, sandy arm stretching 65 miles into the Atlantic — the leftover handiwork of the last Ice Age. It’s narrow in some places, wide in others, bordered by Cape Cod Bay, Buzzards Bay, and the waters of Vineyard and Nantucket Sounds. For centuries, life here revolved around the sea.

Nantucket, in particular, was once the whaling capital of the world. From the late 1600s through the mid‑1800s, whaling was its lifeblood. But as regulations tightened and the industry declined, Nantucket reinvented itself as a quiet retreat for the wealthy — a transformation that still defines the island today.

Preserving the Cape

On the mainland, conservation took center stage. In 1961, the federal government created the Cape Cod National Seashore, protecting miles of shoreline from development. Monomoy National Wildlife Refuge followed, safeguarding critical habitat for birds and marine life.

Then came a turning point: In 1972, the Marine Mammal Protection Act granted federal protection to seals.

That’s when the Cape’s story took a dramatic turn.

The Return of the Great Whites

As the seal population exploded, so did interest from a very different kind of visitor. In 1975, the blockbuster Jaws gave the world a fictional taste of shark‑infused terror — but it also foreshadowed reality. Over the next few decades, great white sharks began returning to Cape waters in growing numbers, drawn by the booming seal colonies.

The shift became undeniable on September 15, 2018, when Arthur Medici, a 26‑year‑old from Revere, was fatally attacked while boogie boarding at Newcomb Hollow Beach. It was the first deadly shark attack in Massachusetts since 1936, and it marked the beginning of what many now call the new Cape Cod.

Today, great whites are summer regulars. We have:

  • Spotter planes and research boats
  • Electronic shark‑detection buoys
  • Beach warnings near seal haul‑outs
  • And yes — an app for that. The Sharktivity app lets you track shark sightings in real time.

Even whale‑watch boats report seeing sharks, and whenever a whale carcass washes ashore, you can bet the great whites will arrive shortly after.

And they’re not alone. In 2025, a fisherman off Mashpee reported the Cape’s first confirmed tiger shark sighting. Offshore charter captains share videos of sharks stealing fish right off the line. There’s even shark cage diving now — something once associated only with South Africa or Australia.

A Personal Note: The Cape’s Own Shark Celebrity

The Cape has its own celebrity in Dr. Greg Skomal, author, marine biologist, and the face of modern shark research in Massachusetts. He’s been a champion of the great white’s return and a pioneer in tagging and tracking them. You’ve probably seen him on Discovery Channel’s Shark Week, leaning over the bow of a boat with a tagging pole in hand.

I’ve had the privilege of meeting him and hearing several of his presentations. He’s charming, funny, and completely approachable — the kind of scientist who makes you feel like you’re part of the adventure. The sharks couldn’t ask for a better advocate.

Is This Still “Old Cape Cod”?

Somehow, the Cape feels less like Patti Page’s quiet seaside escape and more like a place where nature has reclaimed its throne. The dunes and salty air are still here, but the cast of characters has changed. Tourists still flock to the beaches — but so do apex predators.

Cape Cod isn’t sleepy anymore. It’s wild, unpredictable, and very much alive.

And maybe that’s part of its magic.

 

Summer on the Cape: A Visit to Marconi Beach

 

A roadside “Welcome to Cape Cod” sign surrounded by tall green trees, featuring a lighthouse illustration and the text “Massachusetts – Cape Cod & Islands – 2026.”

Crossing the Bridge Into Cape Time

It’s summer in Massachusetts, and that means my brain automatically drifts east toward the Cape. Or Cape Cod for all of you visiting from away. Around here, we just say “the Cape,” and everyone knows exactly what we mean. We’re heading over the bridge—doesn’t matter if it’s Bourne or Sagamore—once you’re south of either one, you’ve officially crossed into Cape Time.

Lunch, Seals, and Fresh Catch

After weaving through the inevitable bridge traffic, the whole Cape opens up like a choose‑your‑own‑adventure book. One of my favorite early stops is Chatham Pier Fish Market. I swear, nothing tastes more like summer than fresh fish eaten with the sun on your shoulders and gulls arguing overhead. The fishing boats unload right in front of you, the seals pop up hoping for snacks, and I’m sitting there humming “Yummy Yummy Yummy” because yes—I’ve got fresh catch in my tummy and a whole day ahead of me.

Heading Into the National Seashore

With lunch behind me, I can wander anywhere along the Cape Cod National Seashore. Miles of dunes, beaches, and history—yes, history. Cape Cod isn’t all sun and sand and sharks. It played a very real part in developing the wireless technology we rely on every single day.

Marconi Beach: Where Wireless Communication Was Born

A Little Science, A Little Drama

Guglielmo Marconi built the world’s first successful wireless transmitter—basically the ancestor of every text message you’ve ever sent. Thanks to his invention, the RMS Carpathia heard the Titanic’s SOS and raced to help, saving more than 700 people. Not bad for a guy tinkering with radio waves.

Why Cape Cod?

To send signals across the Atlantic, Marconi needed stations positioned just right. He built them in Poldhu, England; Glace Bay, Nova Scotia; and—surprise—South Wellfleet, Massachusetts. Yes, right here on the Cape. On January 18, 1903, the South Wellfleet station made history by completing the first two‑way wireless communication between Europe and America. Before long, ship‑to‑shore messages became big business. You could send a social note or a business update for fifty cents a word, which makes today’s texting bills look pretty good.

Cape Cod: The First “Voice of America”

For about fifteen years, the South Wellfleet station was the powerhouse of North American wireless communication. Skilled telegraphers tapped out messages at about seventeen words a minute, and the station—known by its call sign “CC” for Cape Cod—became the unofficial voice reaching out across the ocean.

Erosion, War, and the End of an Era

Nothing on the Cape stays still for long, especially the coastline. The cliff under Marconi’s station was eroding at roughly three feet a year, inching the towers closer to disaster. By 1917, with World War I underway and new technology replacing spark‑gap transmitters, the Navy shut the station down for security reasons. It never reopened, and by 1920 the whole operation was dismantled.

What Remains Today

Most of the original site has been claimed by the Atlantic—those cliffs don’t play around. But the surrounding land is protected as part of the Cape Cod National Seashore. If you stand on the bluff on a cold winter day, looking out over the ocean, it’s easy to imagine the crackle of early radio signals leaping across the waves. This quiet stretch of coastline is where global wireless communication truly began.

 

🐾 Happy 117th Birthday, Cartoons!

🐾 Happy 117th Birthday, Cartoons! A Wild Tribute to Our Animated Ancestors

Today marks 117 years since the first cartoon blinked its way onto the screen—and honestly, it’s hard to imagine a world without animated animals teaching us life lessons, falling off cliffs, and bouncing back with nothing but a band-aid and a witty comeback.

Let’s rewind to 1908, when Émile Cohl’s Fantasmagorie danced into existence. It was a surreal, scribbly spectacle—like watching a doodle come to life after too much coffee and not enough sleep. No color, no sound, just pure chaotic charm. And thus, the cartoon was born.

File:Fantasmagorie (Cohl).GIF - Wikipedia

🦝 Nature’s Original Animators

Before cartoons, nature had its own animation studio. Ever watched a squirrel try to carry a baguette twice its size? Or a raccoon dramatically rinse its food like it’s prepping for a Michelin-starred meal? These are the original slapstick comedians. Cartoons just gave them a voice—and occasionally, pants.

Chipmunk with stuffed cheeks

August 2017 – photo credit Deb Neumann

In fact, if you squint at a hummingbird long enough, you’ll swear it’s animated. The flurry of wings, the impossible hover, the dramatic zoom-ins on nectar—it’s basically Looney Tunes with feathers.

2017 – phots credit Deb Neumann

 

🎨 From Flipbooks to Streaming Binge-fests

Looney Tunes - Wile E. Coyote' Cardboard Cutouts ...

Wile E, Coyote

Cartoons have evolved from jittery line drawings to full-blown cinematic universes. But the heart of it remains the same: exaggerated expressions, improbable physics, and a deep commitment to making us laugh, cry, and question the laws of gravity.

Whether it’s a wisecracking meerkat, a lovesick skunk, or a sponge who lives in a pineapple (under the sea, no less), cartoons remind us that storytelling doesn’t need realism—it needs rhythm, heart, and a dash of absurdity.

 

Cape Cod Seal- August 2013 photo credit Deb Neumann

🌿 Why Cartoons Still Matter on Around Dusty Roads

Here at Around Dusty Roads, we celebrate the whimsical, the wild, and the wonderfully weird. Cartoons are kindred spirits—bold, expressive, and unafraid to leap off cliffs in pursuit of a punchline. They teach us that imagination is a survival skill, and that sometimes, the best way to understand the world is through a talking animal with impeccable comedic timing.

So today, raise a toast (or a carrot, Bugs-style) to 117 years of animated antics. May your day be filled with laughter, loony logic, and maybe a raccoon reenacting Fantasmagorie in your backyard.

 

15,300+ Cartoon Raccoon Stock Photos, Pictures & Royalty ...

Sharks, Seals, and Sea Serpents

 


🦈 Cape Cod’s August Secrets: Sharks, Seals, and Sea Serpents

August on Cape Cod is a paradox—sun-drenched beaches and salt-kissed breezes above, and a world of mystery swirling just beneath the waves. While vacationers flock to the shore for lobster rolls and lighthouses, the Atlantic is busy hosting its own seasonal spectacle. Let’s dive into the secrets that stir beneath the surface.

 

Chatham Fish Market Aug 2011- photo credit Deb Neumann

🐟 The Real Stars of Summer: Seals and Sharks

Cape Cod’s seal population booms in late summer, especially around Monomoy Island and Chatham. These sleek swimmers lounge like sunbathers on sandbars, drawing both admiration and attention—from above and below.

Pile of seals

Seals of Monomoy Island photo credit Deb Neumann

Enter the great white sharks.

Extreme close up of Great White Shark looking directly at camera smiling Extreme close up of Great White Shark looking directly at camera smiling young great white shark stock pictures, royalty-free photos & images

Photo credit internet

August is peak season for these apex predators, who follow the seal buffet with precision. Thanks to tagging efforts by the Atlantic White Shark Conservancy, we now know just how active these visitors are. Shark sightings have become so common that beachgoers check tracking apps as often as the weather.

A book about Cape Cod sharks and Greg Skomal's career ...

Dr. Greg Skomel tagging a great white- photo internet

 

But fear not—shark safety protocols are strong, and most encounters are nothing more than a fin in the distance.

shark2.jpg

Paddleboarder and shark 7/4/25 Cape Cod – photo credit Madeline Cronin

 

Still, there’s something thrilling about knowing you’re sharing the sea with legends.

 

🌊 The Lore Beneath: Sea Serpents and Saltwater Whispers

Long before GPS and GoPros, Cape Codders told tales of serpentine creatures gliding through the fog. From the 1800s onward, reports of undulating beasts off Provincetown and Nantucket stirred imaginations. Some described them as eel-like with horse heads; others swore they saw coils the size of schooners.

Are they misidentified whales? Overzealous oarfish? Or something more cryptic?

A 'sea serpent' is seen lurking off Cape Cod. But some have ...

Meanwhile off Cape Cod

While science leans toward skepticism, the stories persist—passed down like seashells from one generation to the next. And isn’t that part of the magic? That the sea still holds secrets we haven’t quite solved.

🐚 August’s Invitation

Cape Cod in August is more than a postcard—it’s a living story. Whether you’re scanning the horizon for dorsal fins, watching seals bob like buoys, or wondering what might lurk in the deep, this month invites curiosity.

So pack your binoculars, your sunscreen, and maybe a pinch of imagination. The coast is calling—and it has stories to tell.

photo credit Deb Neumann