A Memorable Superpod Gathering

Superpod photo by John Boyd, Superpod recording by Monika Wieland Shields.

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I remember the day so vividly. We were on the west side near False Bay watching J Pod socialize and chase salmon. J1 Ruffles wasn’t too terribly far from the boat, and we enjoyed watching his wavy fin slide to the surface like a submarine periscope. It was one of those flat-calm days, and the boats were shut down. You could hear those magical “whooshes” popping up all over. On the hydrophone you could hear distinctive J Pod calls. Then something changed.

J Pod suddenly grouped together and stopped vocalizing. They made a line facing southwest and began traveling quickly. We wondered what was going on. Why the sudden change in behavior?

Then the call came over the VHF—“more whales spotted at Discovery Island coming towards San Juan!” So we watched as J Pod shot off towards the southwest, and wondered who was coming in? It didn’t take long until J Pod slowed way down, and made a long line. In the near distance, many blows could be seen as a huge group of whales began slowing down as well. Before long, two lines of whales were facing each other and more were coming in from the west. It was one of my first times to witness a “super Pod” gathering. J Pod facing southwest, K Pod facing northeast about 100 yards from each other. We dropped the hydrophone and it was a swirling symphony of calls going back and forth! The groups came together, and it was as if kids were let out of school for summer. Whales began breaching like crazy. Tons of social behavior as these two groups came together. But it got better! L Pod was behind K Pod and soon there were more dorsal fins than could be imagined!

We watched in awe while the sounds of SRKWs echoed below us. A day I will never forget!

L121 Windsong

L121 Windsong, born 2015, with mother Calypso L94. Photo by Ariel Yseth

Windsong is very in tune with his surroundings, tactile and curious. I first met him in August of 2016 when he was a year and a half old. I was standing alone on the rocks of Grandma’s Cove when his mom brought him and his sister close by. He was so curious about his shore surroundings that when he lifted his head high out of the water to breathe, he kept his eye open on a few occasions. His mom and sister left him alone in the kelp bed nearby while they went offshore to hunt. I watched him as he investigated the kelp bed and shoreline. He was so playful and perfectly fine keeping himself entertained. There were moments where I wondered if his subconscious connected to mine as I had visualized him doing certain behaviors and then, as if he knew what I wanted to see, he did them. At one point, he breached close enough that I could see his eyes looking in my direction. A few years later, I was waiting at land bank for a close pass from his matriline when I fell asleep. I woke well after sunset and the light on the horizon was quickly fading. There was just enough light to see that Windsong and his family were heading directly toward me. As they approached, they lit up the bioluminescence and I could see their glowing silhouettes. Windsong was by far the smallest one in the family at the time, so I knew it was him swimming beneath me in the glowing darkness. I remember saying, “Hi Windsong,” and within seconds, he began breaching, rolling, tail and pec slapping in the kelp beds. His curious, joyous energy always fills me up.

L119 Joy

L119 Joy

Story and Photos by Brooke McKinley

After spending 15 years working on the Salish Sea as a whale watching naturalist, I have had the unique opportunity to spend time getting to know the individual killer whales that swim through our exceptional waters. There have been so many moments that have stuck out in my encounters with SRKWs throughout the years.

When asked to share some thoughts about a particular killer whale, my mind drifted to L119 (Joy). She was born in 2012 and I don’t remember too much about her first couple of years; it wasn’t until she started straying a bit from Mom that her inquisitive personality became more evident.

I had a particular encounter with her on July 20, 2016 that showcased her emerging personality. She came swimming toward the boat with a salmon tucked into the tip of her mouth. She proceeded to push the fish around for the next five minutes. It was fully intact, except for the couple of fatal teeth marks. It seemed to me that she was showing off her ability to catch her own salmon now. It was almost a sense of pride I could feel beaming from her as she showed off her catch. In the span of those five minutes, she had simply decided to swim by the boat (engines already off), content with her new fish trophy. It was such a cool experience.

Fast forward a couple of years (late summer of 2018) ...we were stopped south of Salmon Bank as members of L pod decided to shift offshore. She was the only one in our vicinity. Joy once again swam directly at the boat, just a couple of feet under the surface of the water, enabling everyone to see her full body in the crystal-clear blue waters. As she veered to pass off the stern, it appeared she was going to come up for a breath, but instead, she just looked at us for a couple more seconds before sinking back down (without taking a breath). Just close enough to the surface to check us out... Most of the time, I don’t consider killer whales to be too intrigued by us, they mostly just pass by, doing whatever they’re doing, and we just sit there enthralled by their mere presence. It is these special rare encounters that I can perceive they’re interest in us; it’s those moments that I hold nearest to my heart – to say that you were eye to eye with a killer whale — to have a killer whale actually see you, wow. Just wow. There aren’t even words to describe it.