July 5: Return of the Residents

Well, my aforementioned blog post about an epic Bigg's killer whale encounter will have to wait, because on July 5, after 59 days of waiting, the Southern Residents finally returned to the inland waters! Specifically, it was all of J- and K-Pods, along with L87 Onyx who has traveled with J-Pod for years.

The text message came in early that there were Southern Resident vocalizations being heard on the Lime Kiln hydrophones. By the time we got to the west side, we had missed them at Lime Kiln, but caught up with them heading north from San Juan County Park. After months of viewing only Bigg's killer whales, just the energy of viewing the Southern Residents was noticeably different - the way they travel and surface is different.

They're back!!

While most of them were a way's offshore, J16 Slick, J26 Mike, and J36 Alki came inside of Low Island and through the kelp beds.

J26 Mike swimming through a kelp bed off San Juan County Park

Luckily for us, the whales stalled out just north of County Park, and soon it became apparent they were heading back south. As we dashed to the car to head to Lime Kiln, we were all wondering if it would be a "westside shuffle" kind of day - where the whales go back and forth along the west side of San Juan Island all day long, something they used to do a lot of. The answer was yes, it would be that kind of day!

By the time they reached Lime Kiln the whales had picked up speed.

Nothing quite like seeing whales aiming right at you, let alone porpoising right at you!

Suddenly among the lead group up popped a very tiny killer whale - the new calf, J56! With the Center for Whale Research getting to encounter this new little one for the first time, they confirmed not only that the mother is J31 Tsuchi (who lost a neonate in early 2016), but that the new calf is a female. Yay!!

My first photo of little J56 next to mom J31 Tsuchi

When the whales return, it truly feels like greeting old friends. I've known most of these whales longer than I've known most of the important people in my life today! Here is K26 Lobo, who along with the rest of K-Pod hadn't been seen in inland waters (or anywhere else) for an astonishing 6 months since they were in Puget Sound in mid-January.

K26 Lobo

From left to right: J37 Hy'shqa, K14 Lea, and K36 Yoda

One thing that was really noticeable was how big all the young K-Pod males have gotten! Clearly they've been growing over the winter, including K33 Tika, who I like to call the shapeshifter, because over the years I've mistaken him for just about every other male in K-Pod and several in other pods. He just looks so different depending on what angle you see him at!

K33 Tika

 A couple hours later, the whales were heading back north up the west side of San Juan Island again. First, they stalled out and flipped at Land Bank, but then came up as far as Lime Kiln, where we had again, along with may others, gathered on the rocks. For a short time, everything else faded away: the long absence of the Southern Residents, the task force meetings, the political wheeling and dealing, the marathon legislative session, the worry, the fear, the anger....for a short time, it felt like the good ol' days, hanging on the rocks at Lime Kiln with Js and Ks going back and forth in the kelp. It felt like a breath of fresh air.

If you'll permit me a moment to anthropomorphize, the whales seemed just as happy to be back as we were to have them back. While there was a lot of laughter, smiles, hugs, and tears among the human whale community, there were just as many spyhops, breaches, surface rolls, and swims through the kelp fronds among the cetacean whale community.

Rolling through the kelp just a few yards off the rocks at Lime Kiln

Spyhop from J49 T'ilem I'nges

As with any social party, the family and friends were all mixed up and interacting with one another.

From left to right: K43 Saturna, J51 Nova, and J41 Eclipse

Our Orca Behavior Institute intern Greg, who luckily only had to wait 5 days after his arrival to meet the Southern Residents for the very time, got doubly lucky with this incredibly close encounter on his first day with Js and Ks:

And he was far from the only one that day to have an exceptionally close encounter!

Our friend Jim Maya also captured this shot from a little further south along the shoreline, looking north towards Lime Kiln. You may have to click to see the larger view, but check out the two whales front and center in the photo and right off the rocks! (I'm the one in the turquoise coat on the left!)

Jim Maya photo taken from Land Bank, looking towards Lime Kiln

Overall I thought the whales looked pretty robust, as if they had indeed found a more reliable source of food elsewhere, as the Fraser River spring Chinook runs have clearly failed them in April-June, leading to their uncharacteristic and extended absences.

J47 Notch

K44 Ripple

Once again the whales got just about as far as the lighthouse when they slowly turned, and made their way past all of us on shore one more time!

L87 Onyx

A killer whale draping a long strand of kelp of its tail flukes

It was a very surreal day. Not only was I literally dreaming about J-Pod when I woke up to the message they were here, so that the whole day almost felt like an extension of the dream, but as a researcher who was viewing them but was not on the water with them I suddenly found myself bombarded with media requests to report on their return. In addition to several live spots on radio broadcasts, another interview turned into this article in the Globe and Mail which I thought did a solid job of summarizing the real issues: "Researchers encouraged by return of killer whales to the Salish Sea, but say food source must be replenished"

You can also check out my one minute video of this memorable Lime Kiln encounter here: Js and Ks at Lime Kiln on July 5th.

The whales went back south, but then slowly came north again, seen off Lime Kiln by others around sunset and then vocal on the hydrophones until after midnight. The following morning, July 6, they went through Active Pass at sunrise, and I assumed that meant we wouldn't see them until the following day at the earliest, as they usually spend some time up there. Surprisingly, they instead made their way rapidly back south, passing Lime Kiln again at 2:30 in the afternoon.

J31 Tsuchi and ~2 month old J56 heading south past Lime Kiln on July 6

That evening we spent several hours at Land Bank hoping for a repeat sunset appearance like the night before, but while we did see some faint blows in the distance, they never made it quite up to where we sat on the shoreline. Indeed, as their quick turnaround from the Fraser River foreshadowed, the next day they were again heading west out the Strait of Juan de Fuca towards the open ocean. It sure seems like they are finding a better food source out there, rather than in what has traditionally been their home waters this time of year in and around the San Juan Islands.

It all comes down to prey. The Bigg's killer whales are here in ever-greater numbers every year, while 2019 gave us the first June on record without the Southern Residents here in the Salish Sea at all. Not that long ago, at least some of the Southern Residents were here on a near-daily basis throughout the month of June. The Bigg's have an abundant supply of seals, sea lions, and porpoises to feed on here. The Fraser River is no longer providing a big enough or reliable enough source of Chinook salmon to the Southern Residents to keep them visiting what we call their core summer habitat on a regular basis. The data speaks for itself.

Another cloud over the visit of the Southern Residents was the apparent absence of both K25 Scoter and J17 Princess Angeline, two whales who looked visibly malnourished last fall and winter. While not altogether surprising, the loss of these two whales definitely hurts - not only us human admirers, but of course to their immediate families too, and to the Southern Resident population as a whole. A bittersweet sighting I had was of J53 Kiki, Princess Angeline's 3 year old daughter, swimming next to her big sister J35 Tahlequah. Over the last two and a half years, Tahlequah has lost her sister J28 Polaris, her nephew J54 Dipper, her newborn daughter which she carried with her for 17 days last summer, and now seemingly her mother J17 Princess Angeline. The cumulative grief is hard to imagine, and equally hard to imagine is little J53 Kiki having to find her way without her mom.

But here are two sisters - one who lost a daughter, and one who lost a mom - and perhaps in each other they will find both solace and a way to survive.

J53 Kiki swimming in the slipstream of her big sister, J35 Tahlequah

Indeed, it is in their perseverance and joie de vivre that I continue to find hope. While I trust them to do what they need to do in order to find enough food, I will eagerly await the next moment they can spare to visit the Salish Sea, where I hope to continue to meet them right off the rocks at Lime Kiln for many, many years to come.

March 26 and April 1 with J-Pod

We recently got our new boat (acquired last fall) launched, which means new photographic opportunities have opened up again as we get back out on the water! On our first test drive we went birding in Griffin Bay, and I snapped this shot of two mew gulls and reflections unlike any I had ever seen before:

 

So far to date in 2019 the Southern Residents have been in the Salish Sea about twice as many days as 2018, and we are happy to have them! On March 23, I had my first encounter with them in 2019. While it was a lot more hearing them over the hydrophones, we did see a couple whales in the morning from Land Bank. It was great to see J17 Princess Angeline, a whale who had been ailing (and had "peanut head") dated back to the end of last year, and while it wasn't the greatest look, it appeared she was doing a bit better.

J17 Princess Angeline

On March 26, less than a week after we got our new boat in the water, J-Pod was coming down San Juan Channel, and opportunity that was just too good to pass up! Ever since we got the boat last fall, we had been debating which whales might be the ones to "christen" the boat. Given the time of year and the way sightings have been with Southern Residents, we suspected it would likely be Ts, but it definitely felt right for it to be J-Pod.

J35 Tahlequah - It felt perfect to have her be the whale to "christen" the boat by breaching and spyhopping nearby

Spyhop, also from J35 Tahlequah

We always say every whale encounter was different, and this one was no exception - we saw two different whales peeing into the air while laying upside down at the surface! This is a behavior I've never seen before, and to see it twice in the span of about half an hour....please tell me this isn't their new "fad"!

If you are so inclined, you may need to click to see a larger view, but the upside down whale is urinating!

J-Pod only got about as far south as Yellow Island before turning back north again, so as they made their way back toward Boundary Pass and the Strait of Georgia, we headed back to our home port. If this spring was anything like last year's, I thought it might be weeks or months before seeing them again, but amazingly, on April 1 J-Pod was again picked up aiming for San Juan Channel! We hopped out on a boat with friends in the late afternoon and caught up with them just north of Friday Harbor.

The first group we saw was J36 Alki, J42 Echo, J19 Shachi, J27 Blackberry, and J31 Tsuchi following right along the San Juan shoreline. The lighting was just right for backlit blows (at times to the point where we could see the blows but not the whales!):

J27 Blackberry

From left to right J27 Blackberry, J36 Alki, and J19 Shachi

They passed right in front of Friday Harbor, which is always a cool perspective to see!

J27 Blackberry in front of Friday Harbor

As this group continued south, we stopped to watch J41 Eclipse and J51 Nova, who seemed in a playful mood, as we saw Nova do several breaches as they approached. As they got closer we saw Nova pick up a piece of bull kelp, and he spyhopped several times with it draped around his head or over his pec fins.

A peek-a-boo spyhop from J51 Nova - you can just make out a piece of bull kelp floating to the right of his head

On one of the spyhops he surfaced with his mouth open. I don't know what it is about whale teeth, but it is always SO exciting to see them!

J51 Nova, mouth open

It was definitely turning into a spyhop kinda night, and shortly after this one, J42 Echo popped up again, and also spyhopped with her mouth open, teeth showing.

Another mouth-open spyhop, this one from J42 Echo

The rest of J-Pod was starting to come into view over on the Shaw Island side of the channel, and the whales we were watching went over to join them. It turned into a large (~15 whales), slowly moving, playful group that was a joy to watch.

Spyhops for all on this night!

Not only was the lighting perfect, but the whales passed right under Mt. Baker. And, as if on cue, J35 Tahlequah did a huge cartwheel. It sure does the heart good to see her so social and active after her tragic ordeal last summer, in which she carried her deceased neonate for 17 days.

Amazingly, instead of continuing down San Juan Channel, the whales veered for Upright Channel, a place I had never seen Southern Residents go before! As they angled into the channel, they passed close to a Washington State Ferry heading for Friday Harbor.

The ferry didn't seem to interrupt the party at all, as all the surface activity continued.

Half breach from one of the big boys

Next we saw L87 Onyx, in what looked like a sexual pursuit of another whale. At first I thought it was J37 Hy'shqa he was after, but it turned out to be J45 Se-Yi'-Chn. Boys will be boys, and orcas will be orcas!

L87 Onyx upside down at the surface

Suddenly, Onyx veered off and came over to circle the boat, giving us a special up close look, complete with a "rainblow".

L87 Onyx creates a "rainblow"

We hung in the same area for quite a while, as several other pairs and trios of whales came by, spread across all of Upright Channel.

J26 Mike passed right off the point of Canoe Island

The leaders got up to about Upright Head, and it appeared to be decision time. Would they continue east towards Rosario, veer over to Harney Channel, or come back the way they had come? They eventually decided to head back west through Upright Channel, but amazingly they hugged the Shaw Island shoreline so close they went inside of Canoe Island and right into Indian Cove, a channel not only narrow, but according to the chart on board only 13 feet deep on high tide! It was time to head in, but we had to stay long enough to see if they were actually going to go all the way through there....they did!

The beautiful evening ended as it had begun, with picturesque backlit blows:

Day of the Dead ~ 9th Annual Tribute

The Mexican holiday Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) is about honoring those who have passed on - every year, I take a moment on this day to remember the Southern Residents we have lost in the previous year. You can see the whole series of blog posts here. Over the years these posts have gotten harder to write, as the population continues to decline. But now more than ever, as we continue to fight for the survival and recovery of the Southern Residents, it's important not to forget the stories of the whales we have lost along the way.

L92 Crewser

After the first May on record without any Southern Residents in inland waters in 2018, June 11th was an even happier day when word came in there were lots and lots of whales in Haro Strait. The joy at the return of J-Pod and part of L-Pod was dampered however when it became apparent that L92 Crewser was not with them. The group of L-Pod made up of the L4s, L26s, L47s, and L72s thus went from being referred to among naturalists as "The 19 Ls" to "The 18 Ls".

One of my last photos of L92 Crewser in 2017

As the Southern Residents have become even more well studied in recent years we've learned, in the words of NOAA researcher John Durban, that there's "a social basis to vulnerability" among resident killer whales. It is not surprising then that Crewser was at risk, being a young adult male (age 23) without a mother or other strong social connections with successful adult females. Males are known to be more likely to die after the death of their mothers, though Crewser survived a pretty remarkable 16 years after the death of his own mother L60 Rascal, having attached to his likely grandmother L26 Baba until her death in 2013. Crewser's only surviving relative is L90 Ballena, a 25 year-old female who has never been seen with a viable calf. If Ballena fails to reproduce during her lifetime, this will spell the end of the L26 matriline.

L92 Crewser alongside his probable grandmother L26 Baba in 2012

Crewser was easily picked out of a crowd, being both the only sprouter/adult male among his sub-group of L-Pod and also having a distinct kink at the top of his fin. 

L92 Crewser as a sprouter male in 2010

When the opportunity presented itself, he would often associate with males from other pods and sub-groups.

From left to right: L92 Nigel, L95 Crewser, L91 Muncher, and K25 Scoter in 2015

With Crewser's death, the population of the Southern Residents numbered 75 whales for the summer of 2018.

J50 Scarlet

I will never forget being out on the water on December 30, 2014 with J-Pod in Haro Strait, and hearing over the radio that Dave from the Center for Whale Research was on scene with the leaders in Swanson Channel with a new calf. It had been more than 2 years since there had been a successful calf born, and after the recent death of J32 Rhapsody with her near full-term daughter deceased inside her, it was the symbol of hope we all needed to start a new year. And what a year it was. The new calf - J50 Scarlet - was the whale the kicked off the baby boom of 2015.

J50 Scarlet at less than two months old, the first time I met her in February 2015.

It was a record spate of births not seen among the Southern Residents since the 1970s, and included another calf in Scarlet's matriline when J52 Sonic was born at the end of March. The J16 matriline quickly became the "nursery group", as the two little ones were seemingly always rambunctious and goading the rest of their family into playing as well. It was so special seeing two such little calves together all the time, and I dreamed of getting a shot of the two of them surfacing right together - a wish that was granted in June 2017 when they passed right off the rocks at Lime Kiln together:

From the beginning, Scarlet was a little different. The namesake scars she bore on her dorsal fin led to speculation that she had a difficult birth.

J50 Scarlet, her scars clearly visible, as she surfaces next to big brother J26 Mike

She also roamed a lot - away from mom further and younger than we see from other calves. Even at less than a year old it was not uncommon to see her all by herself.

J50 Scarlet trailing way behind the rest of her family when less than a year old in 2016

She also didn't seem to be growing properly - while whales of a similar age like J51 Nova were gaining length and girth, Scarlet remained a petite whale, both slender and short. When I saw J-Pod in March of 2018, however, she still looked good. But when J-Pod returned in June, she had the beginning signs of peanut head, showing undernourishment. Experts thought she probably had weeks to live. But the weeks ticked by, and she hung on.

Scarlet's story took center stage when J35 Tahlequah brought international attention to the plight of the Southern Residents by carrying her deceased calf for 17 days in July and August. Suddenly, there was a renewed interest in trying to "rescue" Scarlet, and what unfolded in the following weeks was a media frenzy as researchers tried to diagnose what was wrong with her by taking breath and fecal samples, treated her by darting her with antibiotics and deworming medication, attempted to feed her by releasing salmon down a chute off a boat, and laid plans to go as far as capturing her if needed. While the debate raged over whether or intervene or leave her alone, she somehow still swam on, despite her condition continuing to deteriorate.

Scarlet, who by all rights should have had weeks to live at this point with pronounced peanut head, lived for months.

She was a swimming bag of bones at the end, and it came as a surprise to no one who had been observing her when she disappeared. The circus still wouldn't come to an immediate end, however, as a helicopter search continued for several days after her disappearance until it was fully acknowledged she was deceased. Regardless of which side of the intervention debate you were on, there was no arguing that, either directly or indirectly, we had failed her.

Scarlet became the latest of the baby boom calves to die, leaving just five survivors from that incredible year. It was just three years ago, but it is already hard to recall what it's like to have a healthy, active newborn in the population. It's now been over 3 years since the last successful birth. Population down to 74.

J35's Calf

I often end these posts with acknowledgment of the new whales that have joined the ranks of the Southern Residents, but for the third year in a row, there are no more to add. It's also impossible to write about the whales we lost this summer without mentioning the deceased neonate J35 Tahlequah carried around for an incredible 17 days. As a grieving mother, Tahlequah made an incredible statement that resonated around the globe.

J35 Tahlequah during her 17 day vigil

A closer look at this photo shows you the tail fluke of the neonate Tahlequah was carrying, barely visible as a black triangle against her black head. After pushing her calf with her rostrum for several days, she switched to carrying it by the pectoral fin, with the body draped around her mouth.

So much more could be said about her vigil and the emotion and activism it inspired, but to put it simply, it has reignited my dedication to not only the living whales but to the next generation of Southern Residents. We have learned about the incredible rate of failed pregnancies among Southern Residents in recent years, while meanwhile the thriving transient killer whale population has had something like 90% survivorship of calves. My goal is that Tahlequah and all the other future moms will not have to go through this again. And so, we fight on.