Thanks Jon

On behalf of Bob Peart, CPAWS

Sun, 22 May 2011 14:20:43 +0000

I first met Jon at a CPAWS Board meeting in the early 80’s, and from the moment I was introduced to him I knew I was with someone special. Sometimes you just know!

Over the next few years Jon regaled me with his efforts to free whales from fishermen’s nets, the first time I heard of such a thing — and then discovered that he was a pioneer, perhaps the first person in the world to save whales from drowning once they were caught in the nets. I understand his hearing problems when he was older were caused by the hours he spent with his head under water with a snorkel trying to free these captive beasts.

It was Jon, along with Bob Graham, who first explained to me that Canada was a marine country – ‘as we are almost surrounded by ocean and fresh water you know Bob’ – and I remember being surprised by such a comment and thought how true. Ever since that point my understanding of Canada has been different than before – it was one of those oh gosh, of course moments that has stayed with me for over 25 years.

In the mid-80’s when I was National President Jon invited the Board to a ‘retreat’ in Newfoundland. We all felt it was time for our organization to change and really step forward as the only national organization advocating for parks and wilderness, and needed some special Board time to think it through. While jigging for cod one afternoon we all came to the agreement that we must change our name — and thus was borne the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society (formerly the National and Provincial Parks Association of Canada). That name change, although partially symbolic, has been critical to our success and it happened much because of Jon’s coaxing.

One morning at the Board meeting, after a wee bit of screech, I woke up with a fresh cod on my chest and an Honorary Newfoundlander button pinned to my shirt. When I asked Jon what I had done to deserve this — he said that I had quite the night and ‘kissed the cod’. He never did tell me what I did and there are 3-4 hours lost in my life.

Jon went on to form the Newfoundland Chapter, which has been a mainstay of our organization ever since.

Only a few times in your life are you privileged to know a giant and Jon was such a giant! We met occasionally since the late 80’s but not as often as I would’ve liked. However over the years I often thought of Jon and remembered his energy, his passion and his humour. He was an important person in conservation and Canada owes him a great deal of respect. It is hard for me to appreciate how heartfelt his loss must be to my Newfoundland colleagues. And there are many more whales now swimming free in the ocean because of Jon’s dedication. Thank you Jon for everything!

Bob Peart
April 20, 2010

This post was submitted by on behalf of Bob Peart, CPAWS.

Jon and a visit to Australia

John Beumer — Sun, 22 May 2011 14:20:01 +0000

I first met Jon in the late 1980’s on a trip he made to Queensland. We agreed that a whale watching visit to Hervey Bay in August would give Jon an opportunity to become familiar with a few of the East Coast humpback whales. On the 4 hour drive to Hervey Bay the previous day, Jon recounted his limited information of Australia and its unfriendly wildlife, especially the spiders, snakes, crocodiles, sharks, etc. The next day started badly. At that time, Jon was a ‘jogger’ and left the motel early in the morning. He was back within two minutes, having been attacked by a very territorial magpie, defending its nest. Despite this unwelcome start, we had a successful day on the water and saw/photographed a number of whales. Jon brought a different perspective to Queensland – one from which we all gained a better appreciation of marine mammals and of the life in Newfoundland. Over the years we received reports of his travels and management successes and Jon made many contributions to my son’s beer bottle top collection. He was a gentleman, scholar and friend. – John Beumer

This post was submitted by John Beumer.

Fond rememberance

Peter McLeod — Sat, 26 Feb 2011 20:26:12 +0000

It was with great sadness that I just today learned of Jon’s death. I was among the first graduate students to do a whale thesis with Jon, and my years at MUN with Jon and the others in the Whale research group at the time are among my most memorable: some of the best (and worst) days of my life. It is interesting to read the more timely entries from other, later, graduate students – the various scenarios are so reminiscent of my time with Jon. Jon was a respectful, kind and supportive supervisor but also demanding and more than willing to let you find your own way. I think today they would call him a proponent of “experiential learning”. What that meant for me in 1979-80 was being given a leaky Zodiac with undependable motors and equipment to record pilot whale vocalizations and a gentle push out the door. I too was given Jon’s truck for field work and also got it stuck, only I burned out his transmission before a fisherman towed me off the very well named “slipway” just as the rising tide was starting to lift the boat and trailer I was trying to haul back to the vivarium. Jon never said a thing about the damage to his vehicle.
The last time I saw Jon, in the 1990s, he was in the Annapolis Valley with a touring whale skeleton and joined my family for a meal. I remember watching him talking so respectfully to my young son, sitting on Jon’s knee, and fondly remembering wonderful meals at his home Portugal Cove with Judy and their beautiful young family and the way he would interact with his children and include them in any discussion. Jon would treat everyone the same respectful way and speak thoughtfully, skilfully, eloquently (and with the appropriate vocabulary), with fishermen, politicians or researchers at scientific meetings. To me, he always seems most comfortable chatting with the fishermen.
Jon was a renaissance man, and an excellent role model for an aspiring academic. I will always remember him fondly and extend my sympathies to his family.

This post was submitted by Peter McLeod.

Jon’s first cousin

Clarice Christenson Wales — Mon, 13 Sep 2010 14:10:47 +0000

I’m Jon’s first cousin living in Cincinnati, Ohio with my husband of 65 years. We have three sons and four grandchildren. My mother Mitilda and Jon’s father Ordin were sister and brother. We are so sorry to hear of Jon’s passing. With Love and sympathy. Clarice Wales

This post was submitted by Clarice Christenson Wales.

From Kristina Curren

admin — Fri, 21 May 2010 13:19:12 +0000

I was Jon’s graduate student in the early 1990s. I wrote him a letter from the University of Guelph asking about the possibility of doing a
Master’s degree with him. I fully expected a dismissive answer–after all, I was a girl from landlocked Ontario with far more knowledge of
physics than biology, and Jon must have received hundreds of similar requests each year from whale-groupie wannabees.

Instead of rebuffing me, however, Jon wrote back to say that he had just the project for me–a study of whale swimming dynamics with Dr. Neil Bose as my co-supervisor. He also promised me lots of time to learn about whale biology and behaviour in the field. To say that I
was thrilled is an understatement. I packed up my car with as many of my belongings as I could stuff into it and headed east. My family thought I was barmy, but I never once regretted my decision.

Jon Lien was an extraordinary man–a force of nature and larger than life–and I adored him. He was warm-hearted, welcoming, humorous,
everlastingly inquisitive, passionate, tireless, indomitable, and insanely knowledgeable. He loved the land, the sea, the whales, his
students, his farm, and his friends and family. Jon knew, better than anyone else I’ve ever met, how to fully experience joy in every moment and how to suck the marrow out of life. His “joie de vie”, his laughter, and his curiosity about everything from the mundane to the arcane were infectious. No one who met Jon could remain untouched by or forget him. I am honoured to have worked with and for him, and I treasure every memory I have of him.

I would like to express my deepest sympathies to Judy, Maren, OJ, Elling, and the rest of Jon’s family on your loss. I wish that I could
offer you words that would ease your pain, but the best I can do is this: Hold Jon in your hearts, and he will always be with you.

And to Jon himself, I would like to say thank you. Thank you for taking a chance on a stranger, for believing in me, and for helping me
to believe in myself. Thank you for all of the wonderful and exciting opportunities that I would never have had the chance to experience
without you. Thank you for being my mentor and my friend. Thank you for all the work you did for fisherman, for the whales, for your
students, and for Newfoundland and Labrador. Thank you, most of all, for being you. You were a bright light and inspiration in this
sometimes dark world. You will always be missed, and you will never be forgotten.

Godspeed, Jon, and rest ye well.

Kristina Curren

Jon Lien Memorial Program

admin — Thu, 20 May 2010 23:24:20 +0000

Jon Lien Memorial Program

Globe and Mail obituary: ‘The whale man’ pioneered ways to save them

admin — Mon, 17 May 2010 17:26:01 +0000

Jon Lien, who died April 14 at 71 after a long struggle with dementia, combined his interest in psychology and biology, his love of fieldwork, and a call from a fisherman with a whale caught in his net to build an international reputation as “the whale man.”

http://tinyurl.com/2womw2m

Being Jon’s PhD student

Mon, 17 May 2010 13:56:26 +0000

I did my undergrad and Masters in Biology and Environmental Toxicology in Italy, and I met Jon in 1999 after I had come to Newfoundland for a PhD. I studied with him until my graduation in 2007. Like a lot of people, I met him for the first time at the Whale House, alias his office and lab. I was still looking for a project, as when I first came to MUN that was something of a blur. Jon received me in his office amidst mountains of papers, gadgets, whale bones and other whale paraphernalia. He was no ordinary professor as the Feng Shui of his office clearly demonstrated. He was wearing one of his battered Whale Research Group sweatshirts. I was so used to stuck-up, god-like Italian University Professors that I was really astound. Nonetheless there was immediately a good feeling between the two of us and I knew immediately I wanted to wear one of those shirts (in the years to come my sweatshirt definitely became like that). Jon agreed to co-supervise me in a biochemistry project trying to measure stress hormones in the blubber of cetaceans. During my first summer in Newfoundland there was an episode that clearly demonstrated Jon’s character and his relationship with the students. As I was waiting for samples to analyze, the opportunity showed up when an orca whale stranded dead somewhere in the Southern Shore. He called me and said that we needed to go and also to bring some help. So I got my friend Neil (a MBA student!) to come with me and we went to meet Jon at his farm. When we got there he said: “Here are the keys of the truck, here are the knives, go get blubber samples and the gonads”. “You are not coming?” I went. I had never seen a stranded cetacean before and, for sure, I had no idea where its gonads where or how they looked like for that matter. “No I am not, you have to do it yourself” he replied. So I went “Jon I have never seen a whale inside before!” And Jon affably: “Don’t worry they are just like cows.” (i.e. Jon grew up in farms.) “Jon, I have never see a cow inside either, the most I have dissected is a crab!” I yelled back. Anyway, as you can imagine, off we went – alone. Fortunately, for us, the corpse of the whale was in bad shape and decomposed. So we just got some blubber samples and some of its teeth. To end the story well, we got stuck on the beach with his truck because we had driven right to the animal, and we had to get towed out. I think this instance perfectly exemplifies the relationship Jon had with his students. Jon believed in people and in their potential. He wanted to empower his students, he never wanted to spoon feed them. Sometimes he would give them hard time, but only because he considered Grad School a proving ground and he wanted them to give their best and grew up independently. For me the most moving thing he once said, is that he considered his students as part of his family, just as if they were his grandkids. When you were with him there was definitely a sense of belonging and you knew at all the time that he was keeping a benign eye on you. After working for one year at my biochemical project without any appreciable results, I definitely knew I wanted to stick with him and delve more into whale research. So for my PhD I started studying the behavior of humpbacks and the effects of commercial whale watching on them. Quite a shift from crabs!

jon good one 1.jpg (209 KB)

This post was submitted by Claudio Corbelli.

Jon as Jonah, in and on a whale

Mon, 17 May 2010 13:56:18 +0000

It has been a far too short 20 years since I first had the privilege of a call from Jon that led to a trip to Newfoundland and a very different twist to my life than I could ever anticipate. Jon asked me to come to “take a look at a few whales”. That tiny phrase led me to the opportunity to see something of Newfoundland, to meet him and Judy, to work with his crew of students and volunteers, and to experience some of the richest moments of my research career.

It was August, bright, clear, black flies the size of small birds, and somehow still cold if you stood too still for too long. Does it get any better than that? There were whale bodies waiting in several spots. Some may or may not have been impacted by blasting work. He did not inform me which were the suspect cases. This was one of Jon’s hallmarks: those “few whales” were a superbly crafted exercise in how to do an examination and get at the truth. Who else could or would line up not only the whales of concern but some controls! A whale of an exercise, indeed. We spent days examining the whales, gallivanting about the coast, and in one most unexpected and rewarding experience, I was fortunate to be allowed to go along on a rescue. What a joy, to take part in freeing an entangled whale, sitting fascinated as Jon brought the Zodiac ever closer to the leviathan, talking quietly and assuredly about the necessity to make eye contact and thus to communicate as best we could. No surprises; it worked. The whale calmed, and Jon set to work nonchalantly parked on the back of humpback that was about to be set free. It may be difficult to believe, but I thoroughly enjoyed every moment, even when that whale sneezed, and I was downwind.

I also learned in those few days about a second facet to Jon, which was that this tough field guy had a mental agility, dignity, and grace that made him a fine and respected negotiator, for Jon worked, with the same assurance and firmness as he had on the whales, to communicate with the construction companies and government about our findings on the whales that were impacted by the blasting. You see, we did have reliable and significant findings. Because Jon had carefully arranged for the work to be done without foreknowledge, eliminating the chance for question of bias in the findings, it was a powerful set of answers. The company involved respected that, and it made a difference. The blasting effort was altered and no more bodies came ashore. In short order, Jon applied those same skills to find a way to help the fisherfolk he so admired to retool for a life that would help restore the fishing stocks that were rapidly disappearing. That was a phenomenal challenge, and is now considered in marine mammal science to be an exemplar of how to bring together fisheries and conservation interests so that all may benefit. That is what I learned from Jon that I cherish most and which I am sure we all know to be a very important truth: in this wonderful terrible place of Newfoundland and, indeed, in many far distant ones, Jon absolutely made a difference, more than once, and to a great many people. He made eye contact with a lot of us, and it changed for the better all who had the luck to be thus touched.

This post was submitted by Darlene Ketten.

From Rosemary Seton

Rosemary Seton — Mon, 17 May 2010 13:56:14 +0000

I was a grad student of Jon’s back in the early 1990s. I was investigating blue whale ice entrapments and spent a lot of time during three consecutive months of March (1990 -1992) with Jon surveying blue whales from Burgeo to Channel-Port-aux-Basques. One March we trailered an inflatable with two engines of dubious capabilities to Port-aux-Basques. One morning we were out early on the ocean and cruised out to the edge of the ice extent in St. George’s Bay looking for blue whales. There the first of our two engines died but undaunted we kept going, chugging our way back along the shore to the east to about a mile or so off of Fox Roost. Finally we spotted a blue whale which after a few breaths, went on a terminal dive. Jon eagerly instructed me to get the camera out to get some photo i.d.s when it finally resurfaced. We waited around 40 minutes, at which point Jon said we needed to pack it in and get back to shore as it was well in the late afternoon and it would be dark soon. We got underway slopping through now choppy seas as a wind was now blowing. A constant spray of seawater began to fill up the boat. Then…the second (and at that point, our only) engine died! Jon turned around to me (he was at the helm) and said,” Rosie, we are in trouble”! Well, for Jon to tell you that you are in trouble is…well… gut wrenching. I gulped and tried to bring my heart which had plummeted, back up from my feet. First things first, we had to bail the water out of the boat and then get an anchor in the water so we didn’t drift from shore. I remember how bitterly cold the water was…so cold it felt like it burned your hands and you lost all dexterity quickly. I remember Jon commenting on that; it was hard working the anchor lines. Once we got the anchor in the water, Jon passed me a flare and said in a commanding voice, “Rosie, read this”! (i.e., the instructions on the flare). I scanned the instructions and said, also in a commanding voice, “Jon, I can’t, it is in Russian.” He said forcefully, “Just read it.” I said even more forcefully, “I can’t, it is in Russian.” He then quickly passed me another flare and said, “Read, this one.” That flare was in English but in fact, it was the “Russian flare” which when deployed (Jon figured it out), went up like a scud missile. I then proceeded to wave one of the paddles. What then transpired was one of the sweetest sights in my life – three fishermen in a speed boat zipping right towards us! They apparently had seen the flare and the waving paddle!! When the fishermen arrived alongside us, we tried removing the anchor but it was stuck! (The next day we tried pulling it up but with no luck so at least we would have been anchored.) I remember saying to Jon, “I thought you told me (when we were driving across Newfoundland to Port-aux-Basques) that you would never want to be rescued (at sea). Jon replied demurely, “This is not being rescued, it is being towed in”!

There will never be another Jon! He was my teacher, my mentor, and my friend. He once said to me (when I was lamenting how hopeless it seemed to preserve whale species and the marine environment), “You can never give up.” Thank you Jon for all you have taught me and for your belief in people, no matter what their walk of life, to make change. I also want to give enormous heartfelt thanks to Judy Lien who along with Jon treated me like family from the first day I arrived in Newfoundland! It has been an honour.

With affection and appreciation,
Rosie.

This post was submitted by Rosemary Seton.