I HAVE been taken to task by a participant on one of my tours. She tells me that the Bay of St Malo does not have the second-highest tides in the world, as I believed.

Granville has the fourth-highest (a mean of 28.2ft) and Chausey the fifth, with a mean of 26.9ft. Avonmouth boasts second place with a mean of 31.5ft and the Rio Gallegos in Argentina is third with 29ft.

That still leaves one of my favourite places on earth at the top: Burntcoat Head (whatever went on there to give it that name, I wonder?) in the Bay of Fundy, Nova Scotia, has a mean of 38.4ft and a regular spring tide of 52.5ft. Amazing.

Some of the statistics are impossible to comprehend: at mid-tide, for example, the flow in Minas Channel, Bay of Fundy, equals the combined flow of all the rivers and streams on earth. This is four cubic kilometres of water per hour and it all comes pouring out again eight hours later.

The channel ends on the edge of the North American continental shelf, its mouth dropping into great depths.

And the massive movement of water coming straight into it from the Atlantic deep produces one of the great wildlife wonders of the world.

It is a gathering place for great whales and flocks of seabirds drawn to the prolific feeding in the plankton-rich waters.

Local ‘first nation’ people, the Mi’kmaq, believed that a giant whale angered the god Glooscap and created such a splash with its mighty tail that the waters have been sloshing back and forth ever since.

It is not hard to see where that came from. Venture out from the island of Grand Manan on a whale-watching boat trip and splashing whale tails are almost guaranteed. (Please note the word almost. Nothing in Nature is a certainty.)

The whales that congregate in the bay include humpback, fin, sei and minke (even blue whales are seen occasionally). Critically endangered North Atlantic right whales congregate here in late summer to breed and are protected by strict legislation.

Their numbers dropped to just 300 due to whaling – they were the ‘right whales to catch’ and suffered more than any other species. While those in the southern hemisphere are recovering, the northern species is not.

Right whales are prone to being hit by ships, which are kept clear of the summer breeding areas.

Whale watching is done from boats with scientists aboard who monitor the whales (they can identify individuals from unique patterns of notches on the tails) and educate people who pay to join the trips.

I take small groups of people out to stay on Grand Manan in August each year. We fly into Halifax, Nova Scotia, and take a few days to drive around to the ferry port for the 90-minute crossing to Grand Manan island.

On one occasion we were looking out to sea while waiting for the ferry and saw a huge fin whale (known out there as a finback) slide past the harbour mouth.

Humpbacks have been seen breaching as we cross to the island and minke whales are quite common. Bottlenosed, white-sided, common and striped dolphins might also be seen.

The birds, too, are spectacular. Skuas, terns and gulls might be expected but the Bay of Fundy is also a gathering place for two oceanic species – great shearwaters and Wilson’s storm petrels.

Both species breed in the southern hemisphere. Wilson’s storm petrel is thought to be the most numerous bird on earth (ironically, it is one of the least observed by most birders) and great shearwaters breed on Tristan da Cunha in the far South Atlantic. Both migrate up into the northern hemisphere to spend the austral winter.

Besides the whale-watching boat trips, the huge mammals are seen commonly from certain points on Grand Manan. Over the years I have found three good spots, one of which is close to the small hotel we stay in. We pop out there after dinner to look for minke whales passing close inshore.

On one occasion I was approached by the hotel owner to see if we could take two of his other guests out with us that evening.

My group agreed and the couple came along. It happened to be the evening we saw more minke whales than ever before – nine passed us as the sun was setting, a wonderful experience.

‘Thank you so much,’ the woman guest said after we returned. ‘We have been unable to get on a boat trip and our searches from the shore were fruitless. My husband is absolutely thrilled.

‘Between you and me,’ she continued in a conspiratorial voice, ‘he has just retired as a governor of the Bank of Canada and this is his celebration trip.’

‘Does that mean he signs the Canadian bank notes?’ I asked. She nodded, wide-eyed.

‘Perhaps he would sign a couple of $5 bills for my grandchildren?’ I asked. She said he would.

Well, I had to provide the currency (there’s gratitude, I thought) but he signed them. The double-signed notes are cherished to this day by Harrison and Amelie.

There is more to the tour than whales and seabirds, however. The trip around to Grand Manan goes via Beausejour, an historic fort from which we watch bald eagles and marsh birds.

A stop in Bouctouche, overlooking Prince Edward Island, usually produces views of piping plovers, one of the rarest of that family. Sadly, we could not find them on my last visit but we did turn up a buff-breasted sandpiper.

This arctic-breeding bird usually migrates to Argentina, with just one stop in the southern United States.

The bird we found had been blown off course and was as common in the area as those which occasionally turn up in Guernsey – I have seen just two in about eight trips to New Brunswick.

Our return to Halifax after leaving Grand Manan is via St Mary’s Point and Hopewell Rocks.

The rocks are privately owned but still warrant a visit to observe both the tidal range and its effects.

At St Mary’s Point we can observe the great expanses of sand and mud uncovered by the tide and the enormous flocks of wading birds which stop to feed on their migrations south.

Access is strictly regulated and the birds can be watched as they roost on the high tide and feed when it has dropped.

They are hunted by predators such as merlins, peregrines and harriers, also migrating through the area. We once watched in fascination as three falcons hunted together, one spooking the flocks, the other two picking out victims (unsuccessfully, as it happened).