K25 Scoter & L84 Nyssa

Photos left to right: K25 Scoter with salmon, Monika Wieland Shields. K25 Scoter dorsal with tag, Connie Bickerton. NOAA map tracking K25 Scoter. L84 Nyssa, Monika Wieland Shields. NOAA map tracking L84 Nyssa. L84 Nyssa passing Lime Kiln lighthouse, Monika Wieland Shields. A young L84 Nyssa, Cindy Hansen.

K25 Scoter 1991 – 2019

L84 Nyssa 1990 – 2019

Story by Colleen Weiler

We owe so much to two special members of the Southern Resident community, K25 (Scoter) and L84 (Nyssa), both of whom are no longer with us, but whose roles as “tagged orcas” gave us a glimpse into where their families went and what they did when they left the Salish Sea. The use of these tags was controversial from the start of the project, and studying a highly endangered population can create a difficult conundrum: how to gather the information needed to develop the best possible regulations, but in a way that doesn’t cause more stress. I won’t dive into a debate on that topic here, because I want to remember K25 and L84 and how they helped (even unknowingly) advance protective measures for their extended family.

They both carried tags for months, two of the longest deployments of the handful of Southern Residents who were tagged. The information they provided is the basis of the recent proposal to protect the Southern Residents’ coastal range as critical habitat, and showing us when and where the orcas looked for food also shone a spotlight on just how important the Columbia Basin is. It’s a salmon hotspot for the orcas, and they spend a lot of their time in coastal waters moving around the mouth of the Columbia River, especially as the spring Chinook start to gather. With this information, the argument to restore Columbia-Snake salmon to increase the food available to the Southern Residents is even stronger, and I’m hopeful that real change will happen soon in the Columbia Basin to bring back salmon.

Living in Oregon, I don’t often have a chance to see the Southern Residents, but they are always on my mind. Sadly, Oregon weather in the late winter and early spring is not the best for spotting whales – especially the quick fins of orcas a few miles off the coast – but I love just knowing they’re out there. Thanks to K25 and L84, I know when the Southern Residents are off our coast, traveling with their families and looking for food. They are going to the places they’ve always gone, looking for the food they’ve always eaten, and living the traditions they’ve learned from their mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and sisters. K25 and L84 may be gone know, but in opening a brief window into the world of the Southern Residents, they’ve created a lasting legacy. With what we’ve learned from them, we can create better protections for these truly “Pacific Northwest” orcas.

K1 Taku

K1 Taku 1955–1997 male. Story and photo by Bonnie Gretz

July 1994:

I arrived at the Center for Whale Research as an Earthwatch volunteer, knowing very little about whales, and essentially nothing about orcas. It was serendipity that I was there at all, as the timing came together at the last minute. On the second day, my team was the one to go out if the whales were spotted, and we were on the water by 7 a.m., with Dave Elefrit at the helm of "High Spirits." It was sunny and the water was flat glass, with no other boats around. Dave seemed to look over the horizon and said "It's K-1 Taku and his mom, Lummi." We had learned that Taku had his dorsal fin notched by researchers to help prove that individual orcas could be identified. As the whales came closer and closer, we were getting pretty excited. Then Taku went under the boat, turned on his side, and looked directly at us! (Dave said he'd never seen him do this before!) At that moment, I (metaphorically) fell into his world and resolved to learn as much as I could, and to somehow help these amazing animals.

Fast forward to July 7, 1996 and I'm back in the San Juans, attending "Whale School" on Spieden Island. As I lay in my tent the first morning, about 5 a.m., listening to the breeze in the towering trees, and so happy to be back and hoping to see a lot of orcas, I heard someone yell "orcas in Spieden Channel!" We all rolled out of bed in our p.j.s and stood on the bluff. There, with the early morning sun sparkling on the water, was K1 Taku and three other orcas, including a calf! I knew for sure this was my "heart home" and somehow, my main focus was to be on these orcas.

Since then, I moved to Whidbey Island and become deeply involved in volunteering for the American Cetacean Society and Orca Network, and have been able to be a volunteer whale watch naturalist. So thanks, Taku, you helped me focus my life!

K1 Taku

poem by Bonnie Gretz

As the early dawn light opens my eyes,

Slowly my mind becomes aware of fresh sea-scented air,

the call of the ravens, the whisper of the wind.

But suddenly a call!

"The whales are here, in Spieden Channel!"

I run into the meadow above the sea,

the sky softly gleaming blue, pink, gold

the water like glass, swirled with the tide, sparkled with sun.

But oh! There they are!

Those sleek glistening dorsal fins gliding west, surely on the scent of salmon

or maybe greeting the dawn with joy.

The family is there....a little one, staying close to mom, sisters and aunts...

And that awesome big dorsal of (oh maybe!)...

My Taku...rising so slowly up,

his blow hangs like crystal drops in the still morning air.

I watch with my heart

Knowing they've come to greet me,

To welcome me back..

Back to the home of my spirit...

J49 T'ilem I'nges – Family Ties

J49 T'ilem I'gnes born 2012 male. Story by Katie Kirking. Photo, J49 T'ilem I'gnes and J37 Hy'Shqa, by Amanda Colbert

For most of her life, my grandmother wanted nothing to do with the ocean. We never knew exactly why but learned not to push. Despite the fact that she wasn’t a fan of the ocean in which they swam, our love for the Southern Residents and passion for saving them rubbed off on her. When she moved to a nursing center just a few blocks from me that happened to have a top floor gathering area with a perfect spot to watch for orcas in the Bainbridge ferry lanes and in Elliot Bay, she decided she would come with us to that top floor spot to see what she could see. We taught her some of the tell-tale signs to watch for and eventually spotted some orcas with her (thanks to the Orca Network’s spotting network!). We were watching from a distance, but it’s fair to say she was hooked. She kept abreast of the developments with the whales and celebrated every birth. She made sure the staff at the nursing center knew about the Southern Residents and had a chance to look for them when they were in the area. When J49 was born, we adopted him for her 93rd birthday and it was love at first sight. Referring to him as “my baby whale,” she shocked her entire family by requesting to move to a window bed in a room that had a peek-a-boo view of the water when one next became available, allowing as how the ocean was growing on her and she needed to keep an eye on her baby whale. Soon, her wish was granted. We outfitted her with binoculars and kept track of whale sightings, always letting her know when she had J pod heading her way, and much of the time being able to race over and watch for whales with her. We actually saw Southern Residents on a number of occasions from her room and it was magical every time. We were really too far away to get good IDs, but we always made sure she knew when J49 was part of the pod in the area. She “saw” her baby whale on a number of occasions. Whether or not it was actually J49 or not is debatable, but we always celebrated with her and the pure joy evident as she would excitedly recount the various tell-tale signs of whales in the area she had seen during the day before we arrived was absolutely heart-warming.

My grandma loved all of the Southern Residents, not just because her granddaughters did, but because the role of grandmothers within the family structure of the pods was so much like our own family. She always said a grandma’s job was to watch over and guide her family. That’s precisely what she did for our family, and as far as she was concerned J49 was a part of that family too. In her final weeks, J pod headed our way and we were able to watch our orca family with my grandma one last time. It’s unlikely my grandma was able to see much during that special encounter, but she knew the whales were there and perhaps I’m foolish to think so, but it felt like J pod might just know there was a human grandma who loved them a great deal and wanted to see her baby whale one last time. J49 will always be special to my whole family-the little whale who did the impossible and turned a woman who disliked the water for her first 93 years into one who loved watching the ocean and looking for her baby whale throughout the final 5 years of her life. No human and perhaps no other whale could have accomplished the same.

Katie Kirking