The Southern Residents Return in September

The Southern Residents had last been seen in inland waters on August 4th (and with our trip to northern Vancouver Island, I hadn't seen them since July 24th), when on September 4th the long-awaited news came in of many resident killer whales inbound in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Over the next few hours we heard that Js, Ks, and Ls were all there, and it turned out to be by far the closest thing we've had to a superpod in 2017. I believe everyone but the L54 sub-group was there, for a total of 72 whales. It was definitely noticeable that the days are getting shorter as we waited with many other hopeful whale-watchers for the residents to arrive at Lime Kiln Point State Park.

The first large group of whales made up of most of J-Pod and the L12 sub-group headed north on the far side of Haro Strait, while others hit the island to the south of us an initially went south. While for a while there weren't many whales close enough to see, the vocals were still amazing. Here's a clip of what we heard.

Finally our patience paid off as the southern whales also decided to go north. The J19s, K12s, and K13s came by decently close to Lime Kiln, and it was like saying hi to some long-lost friends. I've very much enjoyed getting to know our regional transient killer whales better this season, but it has not filled the void the absence of the Southern Residents for so much of the year has left.

J19 Shachi and J51 Nova

The majority of K-Pod (all but the K14s) had not been seen in inland waters since mid-February. I had seriously been beginning to wonder if for the first time ever I would actually not see them for a season. I was so glad to get the chance to see some whales I hadn't seen yet in 2017, like K33 Tika.

K33 Tika - my first look at him in 2017

There was another gap between this group before any more whales passed by. It quickly got too dark to see, but not before we spotted L87 Onyx heading north offshore in the sunset lighting.

L87 Onyx

The rest of Ks and Ls did pass by after dark, not seen but heard on the hydrophones as the amazing vocals continued. I was so thankful they were going north up to the Fraser River, meaning that they would be around for at least a couple days rather than straight back westbound in the morning. Indeed, they spent the day of September 5th up in the Strait of Georgia, hopefully gorging on salmon. On September 6th, they all made their way back down Haro Strait.

Amazingly, while waiting for them at Lime Kiln, not residents but transients were the first orcas we saw! One group of transients was coming south ahead of the residents, and another group was going north up Haro but did a quick 180 to follow the others south. They were all offshore and porpoising or swimming quickly south. Whether or not this was because of the residents is hard to say for sure, but there are so many anecdotal cases of transients ceding ground to residents that it really does look like avoidance. So fascinating, and so many questions arise about what will happen in the future as transient groups keep getting larger and residents are often fractioning into smaller groups locally.

Transients cruise south in Haro Strait about 45 minutes before the residents arrive

In the gap between the transients and residents, I snapped some photos of the foraging Heermann's gulls off Lime Kiln. They were definitely in the region "on time" for the late summer, but not seen as much for some reason right around San Juan Island until later than usual. Also unusual is the feeding technique I saw from them - more like skimmers than gulls!

 The residents were less than an hour behind the transients, and as they passed they were in two large groups. J-Pod and the L12 sub-group were first. It was cool to see the two oldest males in J-Pod hanging out together, whales about the same age who also used to play together as youngsters:

J26 Mike

J27 Blackberry

The bizarre lighting, by the way, was courtesy of all the regional wildfires. We had a respite from the smoke for a few weeks, but it came back again for a few days before the wind shifted.

The whales made a few quick stops, presumably to forage, giving us a nice head-on look at L121 Windsong next to mom L94 Calypso:

Baby face! L121 Windsong

L94 Calypso and her other offspring, L113 Cousteau

About 20 minutes after the Js and L12s passed by came the rest of the whales, all mixed up!

L82 Kasatka and K36 Yoda

L123 Lazuli behind L55 Nugget

K27 Deadhead

With the recent news of the loss of K13 Skagit, it was especially bittersweet to see K25 Scoter, her oldest son. He was a real mama's boy, so I'm worried about how he'll do without his mother, but it was good to see him going strong for now at least.

K25 Scoter

Sadly, but somewhat predictably, all three pods left after that, but thankfully we didn't have another month to wait before some of them returned. On September 10th we were surprised when the L4s (on their own) showed up in Haro Strait and spent the day doing the westside shuffle. I caught up with them off American Camp.

L82 Kasatka off American Camp on September 10th

The next day, September 11th, most of the rest of L-Pod came in to join them, but interestingly they were in three groups. Two of the groups went north to the Fraser, while the others (the L12s) spent the day off the south end of the island. I only got distant looks at the L12s on the 11th and 12th, but then on September 13th the sub-group of L-Pod made up of 19 whales I call the Greater L4s came back down from the Fraser via San Juan Channel. Two things that seem to make the Southern Residents excited are waking up from a nap and meeting up with other whales. Both of them happened at once as the Ls were exiting Cattle Pass. They were a bit far away, but it was amazing to see all the breaches, cartwheels, and tail slaps from a distance as they made a bee-line for the L12s as they left San Juan Channel.

Distant breach from L92 Crewser

The Greater L4s head for the L12s

With just a matter of weeks left in what is usually the peak whale-watching season and sightings have been so scarce as it is, we decided to jump in the boat and meet up with them again. I'm glad we did, because they all left again that evening. We did catch up with them off of False Bay, where the waters were glassy calm.

On one side we had L55 Nugget, L118 Jade, and L123 Lazuli all rolling around together:

On the other side we had L72 Racer and her son L105 Fluke traveling together under the Olympic Mountains:

L72 Racer and L105 Fluke

More whales were visible in the distance in all directions. Before departing, we dropped the hydrophone, and listening to their distinct echoing calls for about 10 minutes as they headed southwest, a direction that would eventually take them back out to the Pacific. It's hard to know when your last encounter with the Southern Residents for the summer season will be, especially this year when they've been absent far more than present. I fully hope and expect they will still return once or twice in the coming weeks, but I have a feeling this will be the last time with them this year where it really feels like summer. It looks like today (the 16th, as I write this will be our last warm, sunny day for a while, perhaps until next year. Fall is undeniably here, and I just hope the fall salmon runs come and bring the whales back with them for some late season encounters!

July 20th and 21st: Summer Nights with the L12s and J-Pod

On July 14th, the L12 sub-group came in for the first time this summer, bringing with them the J11s who had been missing from the rest of J-Pod. In typical L12 fashion, they spent the next few days off the south end of San Juan Island, never making it up to Lime Kiln. On July 20th, I was more than ready to see them, so after work we went down to American Camp where I hoped to see them offshore. Sure enough, L22 Spirit and her son L89 Solstice were offshore of Eagle Point, apparently foraging and not really moving anywhere for the half hour we were watching them. While we watched the two of them, we could see the fleet of whale-watching boats moving north with the rest of the L12s. I figured they would probably turn around at False Bay as they had been doing, but given the really strong flood tide, when the boats disappeared from view, we decided to head north as well.

I was surprised when we got to Lime Kiln that the L12s were already there! They had finally decided to come up to the lighthouse, but were already past it. Luckily, this is why we have a boat! Team OBI hopped aboard Serenity and headed out to catch up with the L12s a few miles to the northwest of Lime Kiln.

By this point in time they had flipped back south again, but were fighting the strong flood tide and basically not going anywhere. The first whale we saw was L85 Mystery, who was swimming with L77 Matia. A few miles further offshore was L41 Mega.

L85 Mystery surfacing in synchrony with L41 Mega in the distance

About 10 years ago, the L12s were mainstays throughout much of the summer, so I spent a lot of time with them. That all changed a few years ago, and their visits are more infrequent these days. As such, it's been a while since I've gotten the chance to spend much time with them. It was nice to hang out with L85 Mystery, who I used to see all the time, but only got good looks at twice last year.

L85 Mystery with his distinct blunt, butter knife-like dorsal fin

L85 Mystery headed towards San Juan Island

The whales all moved in towards shore before booking it back south, perhaps to catch a back eddy where the swimming against the tide would be easier? On their way towards shore, we got a nice look at L77 Matia and L119 Joy. About a week earlier, Joy was seen spyhopping with a neonate harbor porpoise in her mouth. The strange behavior of our fish-eating Southern Residents playing with and sometimes killing (but not eating) porpoises has been documented since studies on these whales began, but is little understood. It seems to come in fads, and porpoise playing is definitely "in" again this summer from the reports I've heard, though I haven't seen it yet myself this year!

L77 Matia and L119 Joy - probably one of my favorite shots so far this year

I figured that might be all I would see of the L12s for a while, but on July 21st J-Pod and the L12s spend the entire day on the west side of San Juan Island. I believe there were whales within sight of Lime Kiln from 6:30 AM to 3:30 PM, though unfortunately I missed all of it while at work. With J-Pod north of San Juan Island heading north and the L12s back in their spot off the south end of the island, I figured I was out of luck seeing whales for the rest of the day, but luckily, I was wrong! I caught the three hour evening extravaganza on the west side, starting at Land Bank where I saw the L12s come up and meet with some of the southbound members of J-Pod (the J11s, J17s, and J22s came back south while the rest of Js continued north) right in front of me.

I love looking at who associates with who among the Southern Residents, and indeed association patterns is one of the main things we're studying at the Orca Behavior Institute. For instance, why do the J11s seem to have a stronger affinity for the L12 sub-group? They were traveling with the L12s rather than J-Pod earlier this month, and when the two groups met up on the evening of July 21st the J11s and L12s seemed to seek each other out. The whales we saw meet up right in front of us, leading their respective groups, were L94 Calypso and J31 Tsuchi. And not long after, L85 Mystery booked it north through all the milling whales until he met up with J27 Blackberry and J39 Mako.

L85 Mystery cruising north past Land Bank, apparently in search of his pals from the J11s, Blackberry and Mako

The whales looked like they were all going to come back south, but again the strong flood tide was inhibiting their progress, so when it looked like they were going to hang off Lime Kiln for a while, we moved there. Right decision! It was a beautiful evening watching the whales pass, and the sunset lighting just kept getting better and better.

Nothing like sunset whales!

One year-old L121 Windsong

J35 Tahlequah and her son J47 Notch have often performed surface behaviors in syncrhony - I remember Tahlequah teaching Notch to spyhop way back in 2010, and seeing them do this again and again together! This time they were so close to doing a double breach, but Notch was just a second too late! Still an impressive sight!

Breach from J35 Tahlequah

J47 Notch coming up for a breach as his mom J35 Tahlequah splashes down

What was I saying about that sunset light? It just kept getting better. Here's what the sky looked like as J34 Doublestuf and his mom J22 Oreo approached:

And here's J22 Oreo surfacing right in the sun track:

J22 Oreo

Here's another look at Oreo as she continued south; the light was better here, so you can see the beauty marks on her left eyepatch (click to see a larger version).

The final whales to pass were the J28s - J28 Polaris with her daughter J46 Star and son J54. As they approached, they veered in from offshore right towards the rock where we were sitting.

J28 Polaris and J54 approaching

They surfaced at just the right moment, all together, to get a stunning silhouette shot. This photo is totally uncropped and unedited - just posted here exactly how it came off the camera.

From left to right, J46 Star, J54, and J28 Polaris.

The surfaced again just past us, allowing me to set up a shot with Jason in the foreground, to give a sense of how close to shore they were:

Our friend Steph was on the rocks down the shoreline and above us, and she caught this view of us and the passing whales:

I really love the J28s!

J28 Polaris and her calf J54

With all the whales past us at this point, the light fading, and the thunderstorm brewing to the south coming closer, we figured this was our grand finale. But as we drove home, the light just kept getting more amazing, so we had to pull over again to watch the sunset light progress, lighting bolts periodically decorating the sky to the south, right over a double rainbow that just kept getting brighter.

Sunset lighting up puffy clouds to the south, creative driftwood structure, and double rainbow. Not pictured: the craziest lightning bolt I've ever seen, that struck in four segments across most of the sky.

The colors just kept getting better and better....

The only thing taking away from the magical moment was the cloud of mosquitoes feasting on my bare legs. At the time I said out loud that it was definitely worth the bug bites (something I've been reminding myself of regularly in the itchy days since). Finally, approaching 9:30 PM, the rainbow had faded and the golden clouds had dimmed, and it looked like the color show was over. Just as we turned to walk back to the car, however, an orca surfaced. Couldn't resist snapping a few more blurry shots in the oncoming darkness as the whales started breaching way offshore. This image is lightened and cropped a bit, but the colors are unaltered:

Special times in the Salish Sea! This morning I was thinking how, after a very dry May and June, we've had Southern Residents around every day since July 3rd. Of course, as of this morning all the Js and Ls who have been visiting all went west, so today breaks that trend. Fingers crossed they all come back very soon!

Day of the Dead ~ 6th Annual Tribute

Every year on the Day of the Dead (or Dia de los Muertos), I write a blog post honoring the Southern Resident Killer Whales that we've lost during the previous year. You can find the whole series of blog posts here. Last year was a particular sad post, as there had been three deaths and no births to the population. This year there's a little bit of a different story to tell; with two deaths and six births since my last Day of the Dead post, the population has risen from 78 to 82 animals.

J32 ~ Rhapsody

In early December of 2014 we heard the tragic news that a killer whale had washed up dead near Comox, BC. From photographs it was quickly determined to be J32 Rhapsody, and the subsequent necropsy had even sadder news: she was pregnant with a full term fetus that had preceded her in death, and it's thought that she died from an infection that resulted from being unable to expel the fetus. After having no successful births into the population for over two years, losing a prime age reproductive female with a full term calf was an especially sharp blow. A dark cloud was definitely hanging over the whole whale community with Rhapsody's death.

But it was important for us not to forget Rhapsody's zest for life. She loved to breach more than most, and even had a distinct style to it that sometimes made it possible to identify her just by how she was jumping out of the water.

J32 Rhapsody breaching in August 2013 - she would have been just a few months pregnant here

Rhapsody was born in 1996 to 15 year-old J20 Ewok. Rhapsody's family life turned upside down in 1998 when her mother died. Luckily she was "adopted" by her aunt J22 Oreo, who had just had her own calf, J34 Doublestuf. The matriline would continue to experience tragedy over the next couple years, as Rhapsody's grandmother J10 Tahoma died in 1999 and her uncle J18 Everett in 2000. Oreo, Doublestuf, and Rhapsody became a tight threesome that survived, joined later in 2003 by J38 Cookie.

Strong family bonds last a lifetime to resident killer whales. J32 Rhapsody on the right was tight with her adopted mom J22 Oreo, center, and adopted brother J34 Doublestuf, left. September 2012.

In addition to her adopted family, Rhapsody also spent quite a bit of time with other whales, especially those with calves. Perhaps she liked spending time among their youngters in preparation for becoming a mother herself.

J32 Rhapsody, left, with young mom J37 Hy'shqa in 2014 - 6 months before Rhapsody's death.

It was hard to fathom that we had lost Rhapsody at just 18 years of age. The silver lining that came out of her death, however, was that finally, people were outraged. The Southern Residents had been listed on the Endangered Species Act for 10 years, yet nothing substantial had been done to improve their fate and Rhapsody was a prime example of that. Rhapsody's death became a rallying point for activists who strongly felt the government was not doing enough to protect the whales, and her story became a focal point in the fight to breach the four Lower Snake River dams that would dominate 2015. As tragic as her death was, it certainly was not in vain.

L27 ~ Ophelia

In contrast to Rhapsody's death, which received a lot of media attention, Ophelia quietly passed away in the late summer of 2015, at the estimated age of 50. Part of the L4 matriline, she played an important role as aunt and babysitter to many of the young whales in that family group. In a family where many of the whales have fairly nondescript dorsal fins and solid saddle patches, she also stood out with her short fin with a notch in it, and distinct left and right saddles that each had a slight finger.

L27 Ophelia balancing a piece of kelp on her rostrum

Ophelia was estimated to be born in 1965. She had four known calves of her own, but sadly they all preceded her in death at ages of 3 (L80 Odessa and L93 Nerka), 10 (L68 Elwha), and 20 (L62 Cetus). 

L27 Ophelia with newborn calf L68 Elwha in 1985 - Photo by Fred Felleman

From 1996 onward she was the oldest female in the L4 matriline and would often be seen out in front leading the way, but just as often she would be right in with the youngsters of her sisters. It seems to be the fate of some adult females to be the "aunties", or caretakers and aides to the young of others (J8 Spieden comes to mind as another one), and this was a role that Ophelia filled with zeal.

L27 Ophelia (left) with her sister L86 Surprise and year-old L112 Sooke in 2010

One of my strongest memories of her is from the fall of 2014 where she never left the side of newborn L120, who lived for just seven weeks.

L27 Ophelia with L86 Surprise! and newborn L120 in September 2014

L-Pod has a real shortage of reproductive age females who are successfully producing offspring. The L4s are one of the few matrilines that carry the potential for the future of L-Pod, and I have no doubt that one reason they have had been raising some successful young is because of the help over the years from Ophelia. She will be missed.

L27 Ophelia in June 2015

____________________________

Each year in this blog post I always like to take a moment to honor not only the lives that have been lost, but the new additions to the Southern Residents. Amazingly, since this time last year, there have been no less than six new births into the community.

While the gloom of Rhapsody's death still hung over the whale world, J50 Scarlet was a true bringer of hope when she was first seen on December 30, 2014. She is the sixth known calf of J16 Slick, who at an estimated age of 42 at the time of birth was tied for the oldest documented Southern Resident mother.

J50 Scarlet with mom J16 Slick in February 2015

Then just six weeks later in February, at the other end of the spectrum, J41 Eclipse became the youngest-ever documented Southern Resident mother at just 9 years old when she gave birth to her first, J51 Nova.

J51 Nova in June 2015

Two weeks after that, still in February, we got word from NOAA's outer coast research cruise that they spotted new baby L121 Windsong with mother L94 Calypso (her second calf.)

L121 Windsong in August 2015

And they weren't done yet! At the end of March, another new baby was seen in the J16 matriline - J52 Sonic, who is the firstborn of J36 Alki.

J52 Sonic and J36 Alki in August 2015

The next new birth came in early September, when another first-time mother L91 Muncher had her first calf, L122.

L91 Muncher and L122 in September 2015

And finally, just over a week ago, on October 24th J17 Princess Angeline was seen with her fourth known offspring, a new little one designated J53 who I haven't had the chance to meet yet!

As exciting as these SIX new births are, it's important to remember that they don't mean all is well with the Southern Residents. This means there are six more mouths to feed, and this population is still facing a real uphill battle trying to find enough of their primary prey, Chinook salmon. Some have pointed out that it's likely no coincidence that these little ones were conceived during or near a winter when there was a particularly strong Columbia River Chinook return. It's up to us to do our part to make sure they continue to have enough to eat as they grow and hopefully thrive. Fingers crossed this really is the turning point for Southern Resident Killer Whale recovery, but there's a lot of work yet to be done.