It was every zoologist's dream. br In this fjord-Iceland br the other side of the New World, br Sirenians, sea cows br but narwhal-dwarfing, mountainous - br and here he was, Georg Steller, br administering baptism. br Through chilly April sunsets br where only the sky's yellow-ochre br spoke of Spring, he watched them mate, br feeling for the one hither- br thithered by his lover's br double-ballet, catch me, catch me not. br They even slept on their back. He thought: br 'How little divides us'. br br But what do you eat, in Kamchatka? br How do you keep warm? br br He went with the hunters. br The details tore his heart out: br the massive hook, the ropes, br the beating, and the desperate br devotion of the male br 'even when she was dead' br as he told the clean white page br (the fat burned without smoke) . br br In Europe, he petitioned. br Siberia's longitude br intervened. He fell br twenty years before his mermaid: br an Arctic mercy. br br In 1962, br off Cape Navarin, far to the north, br a pod of black giants perplexed br a whaling ship. Science br helter-skeltered from Moscow. br br You can't fast-net an echo.