Day of the Dead ~ 4th Annual Tribute

Every year I write a blog post to honor and remember the Southern Residents who passed away during the previous year. As I was preparing for this post, I was flipping through my ID guides, looking at the family groups of the whales we've lost. As I did this, it struck me just how many elder whales have died in recent years. While no longer reproductive, older female whales likely play an extremely important role in Southern Resident Killer whale society, both as leaders and carriers of cultural information. Both last year and this year we have lost three females born before 1970. J2 Granny and L25 Ocean Sun are now the only living whales that were adults when photo ID studies began in the early 1970s.

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L26 Baba was last seen in March during NOAA's winter research cruise. She looked very emaciated and hence researchers were not surprised when she didn't show up in inland waters with the rest of L-Pod in early June. She was estimated to be 57. Baba had four known offspring, one of which still survives: her 20 year-old daughter L90 Ballena. She was also the mother of L60 Rascal, L52 Salish, and L71 Hugo, who all preceded her in death. Baba also has a living grandson, 18 year-old L92 Crewser. The three of them - Baba, Ballena, and Crewser - were regularly seen traveling together.

L26 Baba with her grandson L92 Crewser in August 2012

Baba had one of the most distinctive saddle patches of all the Southern Residents, making her one of the easiest whales to learn to identify. Her slender dorsal fin with a small notch in the top also helped distinguish her.

One of my most memorable encounters with Baba and her family was in July of 2009. I was working a double trip day on the Western Prince and it was one of those days where first thing in the morning we had no whale reports, but by the afternoon we had a superpod on the west side of San Juan Island. On our second trip of the day we met up with members of K- and L-Pods off of South Beach, and then followed some L-Pod whales INTO Cattle Pass. Usually they stay out in the larger strait, but on this day they seemingly let the currents push them into the pass, where they were doing a lot of rolling around on the surface, playing in the strong waters. Just before it was time to leave, three whales approached us on the port side. Of course, my camera battery had died earlier in the trip, but based on photos a passenger shared with me later on I determined they were Baba, Crewser, and Ballena. Crewser was swimming upside down, never breaking the water's surface, but the white on his belly as well as from the underside of his tail flukes was clearly visible. Baba and Ballena were also close enough to be visible underwater, one of them turning on her side and looking up at us as they cruised the length of the both. I squinted into the sun as they surfaced right off the front of the boat and made their way back out of Cattle Pass.

L26 Baba in 2010

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L2 Grace went missing at an estimated age of 52. As far as I know, she wasn't seen at all in 2013. She was the matriarch of a rather independent group of L-Pod whales known for doing their own thing. Often they wouldn't visit inland waters nearly as much as most of the rest of L-Pod during the summer months, and sometimes they would be traveling on their own with no other Southern Residents. The odd, independent nature of the L2s carried over into Grace's grandson L98 Luna, who ended up on his own in Nootka Sound from 2001-2006. Grace had four known offspring: L39 Orcan, L67 Splash, L78 Gaia, and L88 Wavewalker. The only surviving member of her family group is now her 20 year-old son L88 Wavewalker; this matriline will die out with him, as it has no further reproductive females.

L2 Grace with her sons L78 Gaia (left) and L88 Wavewalker (right) in 2008

Like Baba, Grace had a very distinct open saddle patch - in fact, they were two of a kind in that sense. Grace also had three small notches on her dorsal fin, one of which was distinct enough to help ID her in photos even when her saddle patch wasn't clearly visible. When you saw Grace up close, she was a noticeably small whale.

The first time I realized Grace was so small was in September of 2007 when I was out on a NOAA research boat off the south end of San Juan Island. We were paralleling alongside Grace, and since we were operating under a research permit we were allowed to be much closer to the whales than I ever was on a whale watch boat; sometimes the whales do come close to whale watch boats, but we would never be under power when they were, so it was a very unique experience to be moving along with Grace as she swam at such a close distance. I could see her whole body underwater, and what struck me most was how short she was. I also remember how effortlessly she seemed to propel herself through the water. All of a sudden she turned and disappeared, so quickly that I didn't even see how she executed the maneuver.

L2 Grace in 2009

With Grace's death, I was worried about the prospects for her orphaned son Wavewalker. Among resident killer whales, it seems like males need a female to be attached to or their prospects for survival go down. Luckily, throughout the summer of 2013 Wavewalker seemed to have linked up with L54 Ino and her family. They're another somewhat "rogue" matriline, so I hope he continues to fit in just fine.

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It might be expected that the older part of the population will eventually die out, but what we don't expect is to be losing young adult males that should be in their prime. This summer, 24 year-old male L79 Skana was the latest in a disturbing trend of breeding-age males dying in this population. We've lost four other whales in this age/sex class in the last three years.

L79 Skana in 2010

Skana's family was doing something unusual this summer: for the first time, they were for days on end the only whales here. He, his mother L22 Spirit, and his younger brother L89 Solstice were patrolling the west side of San Juan Island on their own in July, much the way they usually do with the rest of the L12 subgroup in the summer months, but this time the rest of the L12s weren't here. Perhaps it was an indicator that something was wrong, because Skana was last seen in mid-July, and didn't return with his family group when they were next seen in August. 

In addition to his brother Solstice, Skana also had a sister L75 Panda who preceded him in death. For all the time I've known them, however, it's been "Spirit and the boys", with Skana being much more of a mama's boy than Solstice, rarely being apart from her. I always thought he was an interesting whale to ID because his right side saddle patch looked like J27 Blackberry and his left side saddle patch looked like J26 Mike, two other males about his age.

L79 Skana - a real mama's boy - next to mother L22 Spirit in 2006

My last "good" (i.e. close) whale encounter in 2011 was with Skana. His mother, of course, wasn't too far away, but he was the one that came right up to us on that gray September day aboard the Western Prince. In my photos I can clearly see the small nick in his dorsal fin, as well as a whole series of fresh rake marks. This is my favorite shot in the sequence, however, of the tip of his dorsal fin just starting to rise through the water's surface:

Skana just beginning to surface in 2011

He was a photogenic whale - I had a hard time selecting pictures to include here!

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When I started thinking about this post a month ago, I thought these three L-Pod whales would be the only ones I would have to write about. I'm saddened to have to include one more: J8 Spieden.

It's never a happy moment to learn that one of our Southern Residents is "missing", which 99 times out of 100 also means dead. On October 16th I was excited to hear that J-Pod was coming in, but that mood was tempered when I heard that Spieden wasn't with them. I guess she was last seen on September 19th. This one hits me especially hard, however, as most J-Pod deaths do, because I know these whales even better and have spent more time with them than with Ks and Ls.

Spieden, who lived to an estimated age of 80, was a J-Pod icon, right up there with J1 Ruffles and J2 Granny, whom she often traveled with. Assumed to be a post-reproductive female from when studies began in the 1970s, she was probable mother of J4 Mama and also had a strong association with adult male J6 Ralph, possibly her brother. She was easily identified not only by her stubby dorsal fin which starting in 2005 had a small notch at the base, but by her distinct wheeze when she breathed. With most whales, you can hear their exhalation, but with Spieden, you could also always hear her noisy inhalation. I always said about Spieden, "She's the only whale I can identify in the fog", because you didn't have to see her to know it was her. She leaves behind J19 Shachi, her possible granddaughter, and J41 Eclipse, her possible great granddaughter; whether or not these whales were related by descent, they always spent a lot of time together, indicating they were probably family.

The short, stubby dorsal fin of J8 Spieden, seen here right off the rocks at Lime Kiln in 2005

I have so many fond memories of encounters with Spieden, but when I think of her what really stands out is how much of a care-taking whale she was. When another whale needed a mother figure, it seems like she was always there. She would often babysit the offspring of her daughter J4 Mama, particularly taking care of the older whales when Mama had a new calf in tow. This tendency of taking care of older juveniles who may be getting less attention from a new mom extended beyond just her family: she took J33 Keet under her wing when J36 Alki was born, and she looked after J32 Rhapsody when she became an orphan. Most recently, since 2010, she was known for being associated with the "lost" male L87 Onyx, who has been attaching to various older females after the death of his mother.

Caretaker Spieden, seen here with K42 Kelp in 2008. This is a cropped version of one of my most popular photos, "You'll Never Swim Alone" (click to see full image)

In addition to being a community-wide mother figure, I think of Spieden for her strong friendship with J2 Granny. Often the two of them would be traveling together in the lead, far ahead of any other whales. I can only imagine what knowledge those two elder females had between them, and what sort of stories they could tell.

J8 Spieden (left) with J2 Granny in September 2012

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To end these Day of the Dead posts on a brighter note, I've been summarizing at the end the new births to celebrate that have occurred during the preceding year. Unfortunately, this year, I can't even do that. Amazingly, there have been no live calves born in the last twelve months - not a good sign. A dead male calf washed up on Dungeness Spit in early January, and through genetics it was determined to belong to J28 Polaris; it would have been her second calf. It's unusual for a dead Southern Resident to wash ashore, so we can only imagine if other calves have been lost in this same time period. If whales are miscarrying, birthing stillborns, or losing calves very early on any sort of regular basis, that is a scary fact. The investment into even a single calf is immense: 17 months of gestation, and then 1-2 years of nursing. At best, whales will only give birth once every 4-5 years if they're rearing healthy young. We can only hope that things will turn around next year, there will be more births, and we will have more to celebrate again. With this years losses, the current Southern Resident population count is 80 whales.

Day of the Dead ~ 3rd Annual Tribute

This is my third year writing a Day of the Dead blog post to honor the Southern Resident Killer Whales that we've lost during the preceding year. Unfortunately in the last 12 months, we've lost an astounding seven whales.

J48 was the fifth offspring born to J16 Slick. The calf was first seen in December 2011 and was missing the next month. I didn't get to meet this little whale, who in addition to mom left behind three surviving siblings: J26 Mike, J36 Alki, and J42 Echo.

L112 Sooke, born 2009, seen here with L47 Marina, L86 Surprise, and L91Muncher

The death of L112 Sooke remains particularly sad and mysterious. I documented her story in detail in a separate blog post. She washed up on a beach in Long Beach, Washington in February 2012 with blunt force trauma. The exact cause of her death has not been determined, but a necropsy showed that her wounds were not consistent with a ship strike or predation event. Following her death, activities of both the US and Canadian Navy received a lot of scrutiny, from underwater sonar testing to the bomb range that exists off the Washington coast. Hopefully, the result of all this is that additional precautions be put in place to protect this endangered population of whales from underwater noise and explosions that could lead to permanent injury and death. In the near future her skeleton will be on display at The Whale Museum in Friday Harbor. It is always sad to lose a whale, particularly a young whale, but even more so a young female. L-Pod does not have many juvenile females, without which this population has no chance of recovery. Sooke was one of the few.

J30 Riptide, born 1995, seen here with L53 Lulu and J1 Ruffles

I was shocked when I heard that J30 Riptide had not been seen this spring. J-Pod has always seemed like the most resilient of the three pods, but Riptide is the second young adult male in the pod to die prematurely in recent years (the other was J33 Keet in 2010). Riptide was the second known offspring of J14 Samish and despite being just 16 years old already had a huge dorsal fin that was nearly fully grown. One of the very first pictures I took of Riptide shows him with J1 Ruffles, and the two proved to be regular companions over the years until the death of Ruffles. That's why I chose to honor him with the above picture, showing the two males together in Boundary Pass several years ago. I imagine Riptide must have been learning a lot from the oldest male among the Southern Residents, and it's a shame he won't be able to put the knowledge to use as a breeding adult male. Riptide is the probable great grandson of J2 Granny and also leaves behind three younger siblings.

L12 Alexis, estimated birth year 1933

At an estimated age of 79, Alexis lived the long, fruitful life of a matriarch resident whale. She's the namesake for the L12 subgroup, a well-known portion of L-Pod that tends to spend a lot more time in inland waters than the rest of the Ls. Her strong ties throughout her life with the L28 and L32 matrilines seems to be a key reason these three families travel together so much of the time. She was often associated with both of these mothers as well as with their offspring, and late in her life seemed to have become the adopted mom of L85 Mystery, the son of L28 Misky. The probable grandmother of the iconic male L41 Mega, Alexis, like Mega, also had two notches on her dorsal fin that made her distinct. Earlier this year I wrote a creative piece imagining a day in the life of Alexis where she was surrounded by her extended family. A mainstay throughout my whale watching years and well before that, I had no idea I would never see her again.

L5 Tanya, estimated birth year 1964, seen here with her son L73 Flash diving beside her

Unlike Alexis, L5 Tanya was part of a group of L-Pod whales that does not spend a lot of time in inland waters. As such, I never got to see too much of her, and was always excited when I did as she remained a more unknown whale to me. She only had two known offspring, both sons, and both very distinct males. L58 Sparky was one of the first few whales I learned to identify around the year 2000. He was easy to pick out because this was a time when there were only 3 or 4 fully adult males in the whole population. Her other son, L73 Flash, was a bit of a Ruffles lookalike. Unfortunately both sons preceded Tanya in death. Tanya had a bit of a unique dorsal fin, at least to my now more highly trained eye. The middle of the back trailing edge seemed to bulge out, easily seen in the above photograph where she is silhouetted. She also had a distinct line across one of her saddle patches, and a testament to how rarely I saw her is the fact that I never got a great picture showing this unique marking very well. With her passing, Tanya leaves behind young male L84 Nyssa, her sister's grandson, as the only surviving member of the L9 matriline.

K40 Raggedy, estimated birth year 1963

Raggedy! I still can't believe you are really gone. Talk about a whale with a unique history, of which we only know a very small piece. One of the unknown parts is how she got all those notches that made up the tattered trailing edge of her dorsal fin. I first learned about Raggedy's interesting family when I wondered how she was already numbered the 40th whale in K-Pod when at the time there was no K39, K38, K37, and so on. It turns out this is because she, along with the rest of her family group, were originally designated as L-Pod whales. Before 1977 they were always seen with L-Pod. Then, between 1977 and 1981 they started being seen with Ks, and after 1981 were almost always seen with Ks. Michael Bigg suspected they might be Ks due to their acoustic call types, and in 1986, coinciding with the birth of K21 Cappuccino into this family group, the switch from L to K was officially announced, the only time any whales have had their pod designation changed.

Raggedy's family was our first clue that matrilines are probably more stable than pods, as we've seen other whales and groups of whales seemingly shift pod associations for both short and long lengths of time. While there is a genealogy written out for this group of whales (the K18 and K30 matrilines), it seems the mother-offspring relationships have never really been clear as the family associations were reorganized several times. What is known is that Raggedy was never seen with a calf, leading to speculation that she was probably infertile. 

One of my first-ever whale encounters was with Raggedy and her suspected mom, K18 Kiska, and probable brother K21 Cappuccino. I was aboard the Bon Accord in Haro Strait. The boat was parked as we watched a social multi-pod gathering milling about when we were surprised by three whales that popped up closer to us than all the rest: Kiska, Raggedy, and Cappuccino. This was the first time I had ever been this close to a wild whale, and the video camera I had rolling at the time recorded my frantic, excited comments as Raggedy surfaced right beneath me. "I got wet from the spray!" I called out in a shaky voice. "Oh my God!" There was no going back for me from that moment.

Raggedy leaves behind her stalwart companion Cappuccino. In recent years these two whales have often traveled between pods with K16 Opus and K35 Sonata, continuing the rogue ways of the family group. Early sightings indicate Cappuccino, Opus, and Sonata will carry on the unpredictable tradition in Raggedy's absence.

L78 Gaia, born 1989

L78 Gaia is another whale from a very independent family group: the L2 matriline. At just 23 years old, it also feels like we lost Gaia way too early, but unfortunately he follows a trend of other L-Pod whales that we have recently lost in their 20s. Since 2008, the family group has just been made up of L78 Gaia, mom L2 Grace, and Gaia's younger brother L88 Wavewalker. The three whales were sometimes seen with no other Southern Residents. On one memorable day they were spotted near Lopez Island and initially identified as transients since there were only three of them, though this is a bit hard to believe since all three have distinct open saddle patches that transients never sport.

Gaia was the uncle of L98 Luna, the young whale who somehow got separated from his mom and spent years alone in Nootka Sound off the west side of Vancouver Island. In 2009 Gaia showed up with a wicked scrape on his dorsal fin, a wound so gruesome observers worried it could become infected. He seemed to heal up from this just fine, and it wasn't too long before he had just a faint scar on the front of his dorsal fin. I always thought of Gaia as having a very broad dorsal fin, one that will truly be missed by me among the other L-Pod whales.

So those are the whales we have lost this year - unnamed J48, Sooke, Riptide, Alexis, Tanya, Raggedy, and Gaia. We have had just two new arrivals in that time. L119, a girl, was born to L77 Matia, a calf I was very happy to hear about. Both Matia and her sister L94 Calypso had calves in 2010, but Matia lost hers, and I could only imagine what it was like for her as a bereaved mom to watch her younger sister with a healthy baby. It must have been very bittersweet. Now she has another little youngster of her own, which amazingly I never got to meet this summer. Perhaps an indicator of the shifting patterns as a result of Alexis' death (Matia and Calypso, along with Mega, are also her probable grandchildren), the L12s did not spend nearly as much time doing their regular westside shuffle off of San Juan Island this summer. I saw very little of this family group this year and look forward to seeing both sisters with their healthy calves next year.

The other birth was J49, a boy, born to J37 Hy'shqa. In a rare case of a Southern Resident being born in inland waters, we actually know the birthday of J49 is August 6th, and he was born somewhere around Turn Point on Stuart Island. With his birth, Hy'shqa became the youngest mother on record at just over 11 years old. I was worried about these two whales, since the other young mom I witness (K28 Raven was just 12 when she gave birth to K39 in 2006 ) both perished shortly thereafter. But so far, both mom and calf seem to be doing just fine, and Hy'shqa has lots of help from her extended family. J49 is the first grandchild to productive mother J14 Samish and is also the first great-great grandchild to J2 Granny.

J49, left, seen here at about six weeks old following behind grandmother J14 Samish and uncle J26 Mike

This years births and deaths leave us at 84 whales in the Southern Resident Community. To the ones you have lost, you will be dearly missed, and to those that have arrived, we welcome you and hope you live to see the recovery of this endangered population.

J2 Granny ~ Celebrating 100 Years

This weekend at Lime Kiln Point State Park the Center for Whale Research hosted a party in honor of J2 Granny, who is estimated to be 100 years old this year. Of course they don't know exactly when she was born, but they appropriately chose to celebrate on July 2nd - get it?

I got a kick out of this "Happy Estimated Birthday" banner:

A lot of people were in attendance, including the Salish Sea Association of Marine Naturalists, Killer Whale Tales, and Orca Network. Susan and Howie from Orca Network were all decked out for the occasion - she's wearing a dorsal fin hat, while he's got on a unique shirt featuring photos of Granny in 1976 (when Orca Survey began) and 2011:

There was a great band playing, and at one point they handed over the mic to Ken Balcomb, the executive director of the Center for Whale Research who started Orca Survey. He's highly respected not just in the region but in the global whale community, and everyone gathered around to listen in front of the lighthouse:

One interesting thing Ken explained was how they arrived at 1911 as the estimated birth year for Granny, something I had always wondered about but a story I had never heard. I guess they had photos of both J1 Ruffles and J2 Granny in 1971 and both were already full grown adults. Since orcas reach full size around the age of 20, they made the estimated birth year for J1 Ruffles as 1951 (1971 - 20 years). Due to the way Granny and Ruffles associated with one another, they suspected that she might be Ruffles' mother. Since Granny was never seen with a new calf since the study began, they assumed she was post-reproductive, and that perhaps Ruffles was her last calf. Females generally stop reproducing around the age of 40, so if she had Ruffles when she was 40, her birth year would be about 1911 (1951 - 40 years).

J2 Granny (right) with J1 Ruffles in July 2009; prints of this photo available here

Clearly, there are a lot of assumptions in place here. Ruffles could be even older than we suspected if he had already been an adult male for a while by 1971. Granny may not be his mother; for example, we have seen J8 Spieden become the apparent adopted mother of L87 Onyx. If the studies began now they would be suspected to be related, though from observation we know Onyx was born to L32 Olympia. As a result, Granny could be much younger - or even much older - than estimated. I've heard them say to assume it's plus or minus 10 years from 1911, but the gap could be even greater, just adding to the mystery of this iconic whale.

Right after Ken Balcomb's speech, the whales started to be seen in the distance, as if arriving fashionably late to the party. It was even J-Pod, an almost perfect scripted time for them to show up, except for the fact that J-Pod has been splitting a lot lately and J2 Granny's group was several miles away. Still, the more than hundred people gathered on the shoreline were thrilled to watch this group of whales go by.

K25 Scoter, whose K-Pod family group has been traveling with J-Pod lately

This female breached twice, much to the delight of those who had gathered to honor J2 Granny

Since I recently wrote a blog post and put together a photo gallery for J1 Ruffles, who has been missing since last November, it only seemed appropriate to do the same for his female counterpart, J2 Granny. Whether or not she is really turning 100 years old this year, Granny is a special whale who has undoubtedly lived through a lot in local waters. She was alive before we humans knew anything about killer whales, back when fishermen and even the Navy would shoot at orcas or use them for target practice. She lived through the capture era, when she was netted up along with the rest of her pod while dozens of her family members were taken into captivity or killed during the capture process. She has seen the local salmon fisheries be over-fished and decline over the course of decades, and watched the boom of the fishing fleet, and its subsequent dwindling. She has seen the human attitude shift from one of harmful misunderstanding to one of such overzealous fascination that she and her family now have their own daily paparazzi in the form of whale-watching boats that follow them around from dawn to dusk during the summer months. One has to wonder what she makes of it all - more than any other whale, how I would love to be able to have a conversation with Granny.

J2 Granny in 2007, with the characteristic half-moon notch in her dorsal fin; prints of this photo available here

In reality, Granny is probably less consumed with our human affairs than the daily goings-on of her pod. It is unusual to find any species where animals live long after being reproductive; in cases where they do they are still contributing some valuable resource to the collective population. Killer whales are one such example where females can live long beyond their reproductive years. While they may play an important grandmothering role to their grandchildren and other distant descendents, it is also theorized that they carry important cultural knowledge for the pod. With J2 Granny often out in front when J-Pod travels, it's easy to speculate that perhaps she is their leader, knowing where to travel during different seasons and in different conditions in order to find enough fish for her family.

 

Senescence doesn't occur with killer whales like it does with humans. Granny still must keep up with her pod on a daily basis, which means swimming up to a hundred miles in a 24 hours period. Not only that, but she is still seen tail slapping, breaching, cartwheeling, and spyhopping - a state of activity you don't associate with many 100 year-old humans.

J2 Granny spyhopping in 2007; prints of this photo available here

She has always been a special whale to me, not just because of her amazing story, but because I had a memorable encounter with her early on in my days of whale-watching in the San Juan Islands. The first time I ever saw a whale swimming through the kelp beds right off the shore of Lime Kiln Point State Park, just feet from me sitting on the rocky shoreline, it was J2 Granny - it is a moment I will never forget, and one that helped seal my fate of having my heart forever tied to the San Juan Islands.

I've paid tribute to Granny in various ways over the years: by painting her as part of the mural on my wall, and by designing the tattoo I got on my shoulder as an 18 year-old in her likeness. Now I've also written this blog post, and created this photo gallery with 12 of my favorite photos of her. It was always hard to imagine a J-Pod without J1 and J2, and indeed it feels like there is a presence missing without Ruffles there this year. I know Granny's day will come at some point, as it must, but I hope to be able to watch her swimming past the west side of San Juan Island for years to come, just as I have for years in the past.

A Tribute to J1 ~ Ruffles

The most iconic whale in the Southern Resident Community of killer whales has been missing since November 2010. J1, nicknamed Ruffles for his wavy dorsal fin, has been the most recognizable whale in this population since it was first determined whales could be individually identified in the early 1970s. When they first started the photo ID study of these orcas, Ruffles was already a full adult male, leading researchers to estimate his birth date as 1950. This means that last year, at the age of 60, he was by far the oldest male among J-, K- and L-Pods. In truth, he could have been even older. This is especially remarkable when you consider that many other male killer whales die in their 20s and 30s.

Since Ruffles' family has been seen often since last November, it is likely that he has passed away. It has taken me a while to write about his passing because it's a difficult thing to process. When I worked on a whale-watching boat, many return visitors remembered Ruffles and wanted to see him again. Others, first time whale-watchers, had heard about him and knew he was one whale they wanted to see. It seems like everyone in the whale world has at least one good Ruffles story.

J1 Ruffles coming to the surface, as seen from the top of Lime Kiln Lighthouse in 2005

I first met Ruffles in the year 2000, and unlike most people I don't remember the first time I saw him. My natural affinity was with J2, Granny, Ruffles near-constant companion and potentially his mother. Still, he has been a continual presence in J-Pod since I came to knew these whales, and it seems like there is a hole now that he is gone. He and Granny together made such an impression on me that I painted a mural of them in our houseboat, and I sit underneath them every time I write a blog post. It's not quite accurate to say Ruffles was a friend, but for each whale encounter of mine over the last decade he has been a friendly presence, and I'm sad now that he is gone.

J1 Ruffles in the middle with J2 Granny (right) and K12 Sequim (left)

While I have been lucky enough to have some close encounters with Ruffles over the years, my most lasting image of him is from far away. I picture him surfacing far offshore, his towering dorsal fin easily visible from a mile or more away. He had a characteristic way of surfacing: slow, deliberate, with a strong thrust of his flukes as he dove that caused the last visible tip of his dorsal fin to lurch forward just before it disappeared. When the rest of J-Pod was tightly grouped or closer to shore, he might be off on his own, almost as if standing guard.

Of course Ruffles wasn't always by himself. He often hung out with the young males; I think I've seen him traveling in close association with every J-Pod adult and sub-adult male. Everyone sort of thought of Ruffles as "the man" of the Southern Residents, and this view was somewhat substantiated with some genetic paternity research that was recently done on this population. It turns out that Ruffles was the father of quite a few whales, not only in K- and L-Pods, but even in J-Pod. This threw the assumption that whales only mate outside their own pod out the window. I always thought of Ruffles hanging out with these young males as being a tutoring session - maybe he was passing on his knowledge about being such a successful and long-lived orca.

J1 with a sub-adult male, J30 Riptide, in 2005

I really felt better equipped to honor Ruffles with a photo tribute, so I went through my hundreds of pictures of the big guy and put my favorite 25 Ruffles images in a photo gallery. I always knew he associated a lot with Granny and the young males, but one thing I never really noticed until I went through my photos was how much time Ruffles spent with some of the older females from the other pods, as well. I have a lot of pictures of him with K12 Sequim (born in 1970) and also with L7 Canuck (born in 1961).

There are a lot of sightings local naturalists covet and regularly swap notes on. Have you seen a tufted puffin this year? Taken a photo of a breaching whale with Mt. Baker in the background? These types of things earn you "street cred" among your peers, and another one to add to the list is having seen Ruffles breach. He wasn't known for being super active at the surface, and breaches in particular were a rarity. It's something I only saw him do on two occasions. The first time was when I was volunteering on Soundwatch years ago, and let me tell you, even though we were a ways away, he made our small blue boat feel even smaller. The second time was last year, when he and Granny were way ahead of the rest of J-Pod and slowly traveling north. On that day he breached three times in a row, and I was quick enough to get some photos. As big as he normally looks, I always think he looks surprisingly slender from this angle:

With Ruffles passing on, the oldest male among the Southern Residents is now 34 year-old L41 Mega. When I first started getting to know these whales, they were experiencing a scary bottleneck in adult males, with only four in the entire population. L58 Sparky died, leaving only three for quite some time (Ruffles, Mega, and L57 Faith, who has also passed on). Luckily, in part due to Ruffles' successful fathering of calves over the years, we now have about 10 adult males, with many more "sprouter" males on the way.

On one hand, Ruffles lived a very long and successful life for a male orca, and the deaths of some of our young males (like L73 Flash and L74 Saanich last year) is sadder in that it means something is happening to keep our breeding age males from surviving as long as Ruffles did. On the other hand, though, he is so well known to me and many others, that his loss is incredibly sad, too. I'll miss you, big guy.

Please feel free to share your own memories of Ruffles in the comment section....I would love to hear them.