Our orca whales are dying. By treating them like a financial resource — with tourist-filled boats chasing after them — we run the risk of consuming them down to the last one, as we have done with old-growth timber and fish. After years of argument driven as much by money as by science, we have reached a moment when the causes and remedial actions are relatively clear.
The orcas are starving, and all major agencies and conservation groups agree on this.
What's worse, their numbers are collapsing. The current population crash is almost twice as steep as the last (in 1997-2001), when we lost about 17 percent of them over five years. All of this comes even after their declaration as "endangered" under the Endangered Species Act. This is the worst "natural" catastrophe the population has experienced on record. Although if it is caused by "loving the whales to death," the cause will not have been natural at all.
When the orcas are starving, there are human behaviors that accelerate starvation. Strangely, their starvation does not correlate cleanly with the downturn in their prey, chinook salmon, alone. Several studies now seem to show that it is a combination of low fish count and high boat count correlate with whale death.
Power boats running to, from and with the whales from dawn to dusk are now known to cause several major problems related to starvation: their metabolic rates, measured by respiration, increase dramatically with boat presence, necessitating more food; they swim faster, dive longer and travel longer, less direct paths, when boats are present, also increasing food requirements; and sonar, their primary tool for hunting, is impaired by up to 97 percent by the presence of a single motorized boat.
Add in the obvious potential that fish are dispersed by the ongoing presence of multiple power craft, and you likely have further reduced survival chances.
The sum of these boating impacts is obvious: the orca need more food per day and get much less, at a time when food is already extremely scarce.
Many, many papers on the questions of boat/orca interactions have been published in the last decade and virtually all of them show these to be negative.
Most people know it is illegal to harass marine mammals, but I would guess that readers may not know the simple pursuit of our local whales violates federal law. Both the Endangered Species Act and the Marine Mammal Protection Act specifically state that pursuit is illegal.
This makes sense. Can you imagine an endangered wolf population, being chased all day every day by tourists on all-terrain vehicles? The situation with our orca is not much different.
Orca have too many man-made chemicals in their blubber; and it is easy to give anecdotal presentations on why pesticides are generally bad. But it is important to point out no one has shown any correlation between this and their death rates.
I recently asked a presenter on this subject for any correlation at all, and she admitted the answer remains negative. Recent research conducted by the University of Washington found "no time correlation" between pesticides and orca mortality.
Is there no connection at all between pollution and whale death? It is likely that, in the last stages of starvation, as the whales draw down their blubber reserves, they are suddenly exposed to these stored toxins, something that would not happen if they were not starved.
However, if slow-varying pesticides were the primary cause, we wouldn't see the huge variations in population mortality we see today, nor would we likely have just lost two breeding females, the individuals with the lowest pesticide concentrations. The primary problem lies elsewhere.
What can we do?
There are few natural situations in which the stakes are so high, and the potential answer so cheap or easy. Removing the already-illegal commercial pursuit business is the simplest way of saving these animals. That action alone will have the effect of providing more fish for the whales, at a time when they are starving to death. Not publishing orca locations as they are called in would also be an obvious early step; rather, embargo this data for at least 24 hours, instead of inadvertently inviting harassment.
Since pursuit of the orca is already illegal, all this means is enforcing the existing Endangered Species Act. One can hope that the change in administrations will also include a change in respect for knowledge and science, and for the law.
Over 90 percent of local residents are against chasing the whales, based on a petition launched a few years ago by Orca Relief — a petition which became the most-signed petition in San Juan County history. Local residents' feelings are both strong and clear: they do not want "their" whales being pursued.
Knowing that orca are again starving, with new science showing that boats accelerate that starvation, and under a new endangered status that further protects the whales from any pursuit, the solution to this problem seems obvious.
The real danger to tourist dollars is not that a handful of boat-tour operations stop, with visitors instead channeled to land-based watching at the increasingly popular Whale Watch Park (Lime Kiln State Park). The real danger to tourist dollars is that the whales starve to death, and are all destroyed.
We should enforce the existing law and stop pursuing the orca.
Mark Anderson is chairman of Orca Relief, www.orcarelief.org, and was founding executive director of The Whale Museum in Friday Harbor.
vrijdag 20 februari 2009
woensdag 18 februari 2009
As salmon go, so go the killer whales
California's degraded rivers and voracious water demand are not just a local problem. They threaten to exterminate a unique population of Pacific killer whales, federal scientists have found.
In a draft ruling, the National Marine Fisheries Service says the southern resident population of killer whales may go extinct because its primary food – salmon – is imperiled by the state's vast network of dams and canals.
This killer whale population is a unique species, already endangered under federal law. They number only 84 animals. They normally reside in and near Puget Sound, but in recent years have spent more time off Central California.
Killer whales, also called orcas, never venture into freshwater. But their food does. The Sacramento River's salmon runs are the largest on the West Coast, but declining.
The fisheries service last month determined that Central Valley salmon populations will go extinct unless state and federal agencies change their water operations in California. After further study, it now believes killer whales will follow salmon into the grave.
"There's so many parts of our (aquatic) system that depend on salmon," said Maria Rea, Sacramento-area supervisor of the National Marine Fisheries Service. "It does really highlight the interconnected nature of what happens in the Central Valley and the Delta to the ocean."
The California Department of Water Resources and U.S. Bureau of Reclamation operate separate systems of dams, canals and pumps that are key to both urban and farm water supplies in the state. Though other factors contribute to the fish declines, including water pollution, the water projects have been targeted for much of the blame.
As part of its final report, the fisheries service has the power to impose new operating rules on the water systems to protect fish. It has not revealed what these recommendations will be, but they could dramatically change water supplies – and water bills – across California. The recommendations are expected this spring.
Rea's agency is assessing the effect of California water operations on four protected species: winter- and spring-run salmon, Central Valley steelhead and green sturgeon. A key focus of the report is to minimize threats to these species caused by water diversions in the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta, the hub for 60 percent of California's freshwater supplies.
Several observers said the link between salmon and the charismatic orca is certain to elevate California's water conflicts in the public mind.
Though last year was historically bad for California fish and water supplies, restoration of the state's Delta and rivers has yet to grab the public's imagination like environmental problems in Florida's Everglades or the Brazilian rain forest. Much of the debate over the Delta has focused on the tiny Delta smelt, a threatened species few people have seen.
The orca could change the game.
"It's not just an obscure little fish anymore," said Zeke Grader, executive director of the Pacific Coast Federation of Fishermens Associations. "It's all one ecosystem."
Ken Balcomb, executive director of the Center for Whale Research in Friday Harbor, Wash., has studied the southern population of killer whales for more than 30 years. He estimates salmon are about 80 percent of the killer whale's diet.
The population eats about 500,000 salmon a year to sustain itself, he said. To reach a healthier population of 100 to 120 orcas, it would need about 30 percent more salmon.
Coincidentally, Balcomb grew up in Carmichael and spent most of his free time as a teenager along the American River. He saw Folsom Dam built in the 1950s.
"I remember the river changing," he said. "All things are connected. Our own neighborhoods are part of this ecosystem fabric that we have to restore."
Among the fixes the fisheries service is weighing, Rea said, is installation of fish ladders on major dams that sealed off hundreds of miles of salmon habitat in California rivers decades ago. One example is Folsom Dam.
If the agency required fish ladders to reopen this habitat, it would cost water agencies – and ratepayers – billions.
Water agency leaders were unwilling to comment on whether they're prepared to pay for such projects.
Laura King-Moon, assistant general manager of the State Water Contractors, said a key concern is whether other factors, such as ocean health, share the blame.
"It still begs the question of whether our activities are causing the decline of these these species," she said. "That is the key to our willingness to pay for things like that."
Rea said the fisheries service also may propose new hatchery practices to enhance fall-run chinook salmon. It is the most populous Central Valley salmon species, and therefore, the most important to killer whales.
The fall run set a historic population low in 2008, prompting regulators to ban commercial salmon fishing in California and Oregon. A similar ban is likely again this year.
In a draft ruling, the National Marine Fisheries Service says the southern resident population of killer whales may go extinct because its primary food – salmon – is imperiled by the state's vast network of dams and canals.
This killer whale population is a unique species, already endangered under federal law. They number only 84 animals. They normally reside in and near Puget Sound, but in recent years have spent more time off Central California.
Killer whales, also called orcas, never venture into freshwater. But their food does. The Sacramento River's salmon runs are the largest on the West Coast, but declining.
The fisheries service last month determined that Central Valley salmon populations will go extinct unless state and federal agencies change their water operations in California. After further study, it now believes killer whales will follow salmon into the grave.
"There's so many parts of our (aquatic) system that depend on salmon," said Maria Rea, Sacramento-area supervisor of the National Marine Fisheries Service. "It does really highlight the interconnected nature of what happens in the Central Valley and the Delta to the ocean."
The California Department of Water Resources and U.S. Bureau of Reclamation operate separate systems of dams, canals and pumps that are key to both urban and farm water supplies in the state. Though other factors contribute to the fish declines, including water pollution, the water projects have been targeted for much of the blame.
As part of its final report, the fisheries service has the power to impose new operating rules on the water systems to protect fish. It has not revealed what these recommendations will be, but they could dramatically change water supplies – and water bills – across California. The recommendations are expected this spring.
Rea's agency is assessing the effect of California water operations on four protected species: winter- and spring-run salmon, Central Valley steelhead and green sturgeon. A key focus of the report is to minimize threats to these species caused by water diversions in the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta, the hub for 60 percent of California's freshwater supplies.
Several observers said the link between salmon and the charismatic orca is certain to elevate California's water conflicts in the public mind.
Though last year was historically bad for California fish and water supplies, restoration of the state's Delta and rivers has yet to grab the public's imagination like environmental problems in Florida's Everglades or the Brazilian rain forest. Much of the debate over the Delta has focused on the tiny Delta smelt, a threatened species few people have seen.
The orca could change the game.
"It's not just an obscure little fish anymore," said Zeke Grader, executive director of the Pacific Coast Federation of Fishermens Associations. "It's all one ecosystem."
Ken Balcomb, executive director of the Center for Whale Research in Friday Harbor, Wash., has studied the southern population of killer whales for more than 30 years. He estimates salmon are about 80 percent of the killer whale's diet.
The population eats about 500,000 salmon a year to sustain itself, he said. To reach a healthier population of 100 to 120 orcas, it would need about 30 percent more salmon.
Coincidentally, Balcomb grew up in Carmichael and spent most of his free time as a teenager along the American River. He saw Folsom Dam built in the 1950s.
"I remember the river changing," he said. "All things are connected. Our own neighborhoods are part of this ecosystem fabric that we have to restore."
Among the fixes the fisheries service is weighing, Rea said, is installation of fish ladders on major dams that sealed off hundreds of miles of salmon habitat in California rivers decades ago. One example is Folsom Dam.
If the agency required fish ladders to reopen this habitat, it would cost water agencies – and ratepayers – billions.
Water agency leaders were unwilling to comment on whether they're prepared to pay for such projects.
Laura King-Moon, assistant general manager of the State Water Contractors, said a key concern is whether other factors, such as ocean health, share the blame.
"It still begs the question of whether our activities are causing the decline of these these species," she said. "That is the key to our willingness to pay for things like that."
Rea said the fisheries service also may propose new hatchery practices to enhance fall-run chinook salmon. It is the most populous Central Valley salmon species, and therefore, the most important to killer whales.
The fall run set a historic population low in 2008, prompting regulators to ban commercial salmon fishing in California and Oregon. A similar ban is likely again this year.
Puget Sound orca pods sport 2 newborns
Good news for Puget Sound's endangered orca whales: Two newborns have been spotted.
The newest babies, J44 and L112, were spotted off the waterfront of Victoria, B.C., earlier this month. They are probably only about a month old, said Ken Balcomb of the Center for Whale Research, who photographed the animals.
The births bring the population of southern-resident killer whales that frequent Puget Sound to 85, still too low for comfort. The animals were listed as endangered in November 2005.
Balcomb keeps track of the population under a contract with the federal fisheries service, reporting twice a year with counts in July and October. It is too soon to say whether all the known animals have made it through the winter. But Balcomb said he has concerns about L57, a 31-year old male who has not been photographed lately — even though the orcas he tends to swim with have been.
"I can't really say one way or another," Balcomb said. "He is not in the pictures we took. We will see as spring goes along. It is very unlikely he went off by himself; he is 31 years old and has been swimming with these whales for 31 years.
"On the other hand, he could just be 10 miles behind, and no one saw him. We just hold out hope that he is out there somewhere."
Orcas can give birth any time of year, and the number of births to the southern-resident population can be as high as seven in a year. These are the first known births of 2009.
Balcomb was heartened at how healthy the babies looked. He described them as well-fleshed-out — not skinny — and vigorous and adventurous.
The animals are so young that a fetal fold crease can still be seen on J44, ahead of the dorsal fin, indicating the whale was probably only a few weeks old when photographed. Balcomb isn't sure of the animals' gender yet, or who their mothers are. That will come in time, as the animals are seen together.
The federal fisheries service is considering enacting restrictions to help the animals recover and rebuild to healthier populations. Researchers are looking at a range of factors to find out what is putting the animals at risk, from underwater noise, to scarcity of the salmon the orcas like to eat, to toxins in the food chain and more.
The newest babies, J44 and L112, were spotted off the waterfront of Victoria, B.C., earlier this month. They are probably only about a month old, said Ken Balcomb of the Center for Whale Research, who photographed the animals.
The births bring the population of southern-resident killer whales that frequent Puget Sound to 85, still too low for comfort. The animals were listed as endangered in November 2005.
Balcomb keeps track of the population under a contract with the federal fisheries service, reporting twice a year with counts in July and October. It is too soon to say whether all the known animals have made it through the winter. But Balcomb said he has concerns about L57, a 31-year old male who has not been photographed lately — even though the orcas he tends to swim with have been.
"I can't really say one way or another," Balcomb said. "He is not in the pictures we took. We will see as spring goes along. It is very unlikely he went off by himself; he is 31 years old and has been swimming with these whales for 31 years.
"On the other hand, he could just be 10 miles behind, and no one saw him. We just hold out hope that he is out there somewhere."
Orcas can give birth any time of year, and the number of births to the southern-resident population can be as high as seven in a year. These are the first known births of 2009.
Balcomb was heartened at how healthy the babies looked. He described them as well-fleshed-out — not skinny — and vigorous and adventurous.
The animals are so young that a fetal fold crease can still be seen on J44, ahead of the dorsal fin, indicating the whale was probably only a few weeks old when photographed. Balcomb isn't sure of the animals' gender yet, or who their mothers are. That will come in time, as the animals are seen together.
The federal fisheries service is considering enacting restrictions to help the animals recover and rebuild to healthier populations. Researchers are looking at a range of factors to find out what is putting the animals at risk, from underwater noise, to scarcity of the salmon the orcas like to eat, to toxins in the food chain and more.
Two baby killer whales spotted off B.C. coast
Two new baby killer whales have been spotted swimming in the waters off Victoria, giving a welcome boost to the endangered local population.
“It’s very exciting,” said Ken Balcomb, executive director of the Center for Whale Research in Friday Harbor, Wash., which tracks the three resident orca pods and keeps photographic records.
The newborns were seen off Victoria on Feb. 6 and off Nanaimo a few days later.
They appear to be vigorous and in good shape, Balcomb said.
“They are both probably January babies,” he said.
“The fetal folds haven’t filled out yet from being born.”
The folds, in front of the dorsal fin, are from being in the womb and smooth out as the whale gets older.
The births bring the number of whales in the three pods up to 85, but the mortality rate for calves in their first year is 50 per cent.
Balcomb said he is worried one of the males, a 31-year-old whale, was not seen with the other creatures.
“But we hope he’s out there somewhere. We’re not ready to say he’s missing yet,” he said.
It is extremely unusual to see the three resident pods in Canadian waters at this time of year as they usually spend January and February in the waters off California, Balcomb said.
“California’s salmon stocks have crashed in the last couple of years, so the bottom line is they are probably following the food,” he said.
The preferred food for resident killer whales is chinook salmon, and chinook stocks in California have nosedived.
Last year, seven resident whales died — an unusually high number — and some were showing signs of malnutrition before they disappeared.
An added threat to the killer whales is that chinook are heavily contaminated with chemicals such as PCBs and flame retardants.
Historically, there were about 120 whales in the three resident pods. The lowest point, after decades of shooting and capture, was 71 in 1973.
Victoria Times Colonist
“It’s very exciting,” said Ken Balcomb, executive director of the Center for Whale Research in Friday Harbor, Wash., which tracks the three resident orca pods and keeps photographic records.
The newborns were seen off Victoria on Feb. 6 and off Nanaimo a few days later.
They appear to be vigorous and in good shape, Balcomb said.
“They are both probably January babies,” he said.
“The fetal folds haven’t filled out yet from being born.”
The folds, in front of the dorsal fin, are from being in the womb and smooth out as the whale gets older.
The births bring the number of whales in the three pods up to 85, but the mortality rate for calves in their first year is 50 per cent.
Balcomb said he is worried one of the males, a 31-year-old whale, was not seen with the other creatures.
“But we hope he’s out there somewhere. We’re not ready to say he’s missing yet,” he said.
It is extremely unusual to see the three resident pods in Canadian waters at this time of year as they usually spend January and February in the waters off California, Balcomb said.
“California’s salmon stocks have crashed in the last couple of years, so the bottom line is they are probably following the food,” he said.
The preferred food for resident killer whales is chinook salmon, and chinook stocks in California have nosedived.
Last year, seven resident whales died — an unusually high number — and some were showing signs of malnutrition before they disappeared.
An added threat to the killer whales is that chinook are heavily contaminated with chemicals such as PCBs and flame retardants.
Historically, there were about 120 whales in the three resident pods. The lowest point, after decades of shooting and capture, was 71 in 1973.
Victoria Times Colonist
maandag 16 februari 2009
Locally Well-Known Killer Whale Goes Missing
A 31-year-old killer whale name Faith — a large male who was the most recognizable orca among the "Dyes Inlet whales" — has gone missing, portending the likelihood that another Puget Sound killer whale has died.
Ken Balcomb of the Center for Whale Research says he will hold out hope until spring for L-57, as he is known among researchers. But it's an ominous sign that the two females he generally travels with — L-7 or Canuck, and L-53 or Lulu — have been sighted several times in the U.S. and Canada since October, yet Faith is nowhere to be found.
"That's just terrible," said Judy Dicksion of Bremerton, a volunteer observer of marine mammals. "It's just awful. We have lost so many."
Last summer, seven of the Puget Sound killer whales went missing and were presumed dead. That lowered the number of animals in the three area pods to 83, a severe blow to the population, which is listed as endangered under the Endangered Species Act.
Dicksion noted that L-57 was easily recognizable among the whales that visited Dyes Inlet during the fall of 1997. His towering dorsal fin would rise out of the water higher than any of the females he swam with. Once, when Dicksion and other kayakers were floating in the inlet, Faith and several female orcas approached rapidly, then dove under their boats, she recalled.
Amid the ominous signs for Faith, Balcomb offered some good news Sunday night. Two new calves have been born to the Puget Sound pods — one in J pod and one in L pod. Balcomb said he is conferring with killer whale researchers in Canada to determine who the mothers are.
Because orca families stay close to newborns and share in their care, it is hard to determine at first who is the mother, the sister or the grandmother, Balcomb said.
"Rather than making a mistake, we'll just wait," he said. "They look good. If they are there in August, they will be counted (in the census of whales)."
The first year of life is especially hard for orcas, which is why the Whale Museum in Friday Harbor waits a year before giving young killer whales a name and not just a number.
Faith's mother, Asterix, died in 1996, leaving Faith as the only member of his immediate subgroup. Killer whales live almost as long as humans. At 31, Faith is considered an active and reproductive male, so his loss would be especially bad news for the population.
"We'll wait until our summer encounters before counting him out," Balcomb said of Faith. "It would be bizarre, but maybe he is in California."
For a while, Faith hung out with J pod in Puget Sound, while the rest of his L pod clan was in California, Balcomb noted, but all of J pod has been accounted for recently, and Faith was not among those whales either.
Ken Balcomb of the Center for Whale Research says he will hold out hope until spring for L-57, as he is known among researchers. But it's an ominous sign that the two females he generally travels with — L-7 or Canuck, and L-53 or Lulu — have been sighted several times in the U.S. and Canada since October, yet Faith is nowhere to be found.
"That's just terrible," said Judy Dicksion of Bremerton, a volunteer observer of marine mammals. "It's just awful. We have lost so many."
Last summer, seven of the Puget Sound killer whales went missing and were presumed dead. That lowered the number of animals in the three area pods to 83, a severe blow to the population, which is listed as endangered under the Endangered Species Act.
Dicksion noted that L-57 was easily recognizable among the whales that visited Dyes Inlet during the fall of 1997. His towering dorsal fin would rise out of the water higher than any of the females he swam with. Once, when Dicksion and other kayakers were floating in the inlet, Faith and several female orcas approached rapidly, then dove under their boats, she recalled.
Amid the ominous signs for Faith, Balcomb offered some good news Sunday night. Two new calves have been born to the Puget Sound pods — one in J pod and one in L pod. Balcomb said he is conferring with killer whale researchers in Canada to determine who the mothers are.
Because orca families stay close to newborns and share in their care, it is hard to determine at first who is the mother, the sister or the grandmother, Balcomb said.
"Rather than making a mistake, we'll just wait," he said. "They look good. If they are there in August, they will be counted (in the census of whales)."
The first year of life is especially hard for orcas, which is why the Whale Museum in Friday Harbor waits a year before giving young killer whales a name and not just a number.
Faith's mother, Asterix, died in 1996, leaving Faith as the only member of his immediate subgroup. Killer whales live almost as long as humans. At 31, Faith is considered an active and reproductive male, so his loss would be especially bad news for the population.
"We'll wait until our summer encounters before counting him out," Balcomb said of Faith. "It would be bizarre, but maybe he is in California."
For a while, Faith hung out with J pod in Puget Sound, while the rest of his L pod clan was in California, Balcomb noted, but all of J pod has been accounted for recently, and Faith was not among those whales either.
zaterdag 14 februari 2009
Whale of a tale tugs at the heart
Luna examines fragile relationship with nature
It's a story so entirely tragic and nauseatingly sad that some viewers may look at Suzanne Chisholm and Michael Parfit's movie about Luna --the orca that tried to befriend humans on B. C.'s Nootka Sound--as an experience too depressing to relive.
After all, it's not like the three-year saga didn't get ample media coverage when it first unfolded as everyone from First Nations oral historians, to the Department of Fisheries and Oceans, to schoolchildren across the province, found themselves snagged in the gill net of public opinion.
Whether you loved or hated the idea of an orca seeking human company, the story resonated across generational lines and tugged at something deeper, perhaps even primal, in the human psyche.
Since Parfit and Chisholm explore this psycho-spiritual element to the strange encounter, Saving Luna is more than a simple retelling of a very sad marine mammal tale.
It's a thoughtful and often provocative exploration of humanity's larger relationship to the natural world.
It's also deeply personal.
Co-director and narrator Parfit tells us in the opening frames that he and his partner Chisholm intended to stay in Nootka Sound for a mere three weeks after they were asked to write a story about the little killer whale who refused to leave.
The veteran team, with several National Geographic projects under their belt, imagined they would be able to keep their professional distance and remain objective observers in the denouement.
Yet, after three years covering the story and moving into the community, Parfit and Chisholm crossed the line and became participants in the drama. They literally let Luna into their hearts and minds, as everyone around them picked sides.
Casual sailors were frightened by the orca's love of nudging boats. First Nations people saw the whale as the reincarnation of their ancestral chief. And fishermen swore to put a bullet in the whale's blowhole when no one was looking. As the tensions swirled, the federal government found itself unable to come up with a consistent plan.
At one point, a DFO representative says the only humane thing to do is ignore the whale for his own good, but the policy was impossible to enforce.
Despite the apparent goodness of their intention to help the whale, DFO looked ill-prepared and wishy-washy and there's little doubt as to who comes off as the central villain in the piece.
DFO probably had the most power to help Luna, but red tape, egos, jurisdiction and a growing media circus prevented the creation of a comprehensive and workable policy.
Moreover, other specialists in cetacean behaviour were full of doubts about the establishment school of thought, and began to question previous assumptions about why some whales want to hang out with us landlubbing two-leggeds.
As Parfit and Chisholm watched the "tug-of-whale" unfold, their central focus was always Luna, and watching him pulled in one direction to the next pushed them into an emotional corner.
Their hearts were aching for the whale, and one day, when Luna came up to greet Parfit, he decided to break the law--and his own code of journalistic objectivity--and actually look into the eye of the orca.
He even stretched his hand into the icy waters of Nootka Sound to stroke the creature.
When Parfit describes the moment on film, and tells us about the sensation of touching Luna's warm skin in the cold ocean, it sends a shiver down your spine because the connection between man and creature is suddenly undeniable.
Along with breathtaking cinematography, the filmmakers talk about the web of life, interconnectedness and the pitfalls of anthropomorphism
More than anything, they ask us to consider the "wall between humans and the natural world" in the hopes we may one day renegotiate the existing contract and see ourselves as an inherent piece of the puzzle, instead of removing ourselves intellectually from the world of "beasts."
From what this movie tells us, the animals have far more to teach us than we could possibly teach them.
And little Luna, whose life came to a violent end after an encounter with a tug boat propeller, may have offered us the most valuable lesson of all by making us care about a life so different --and yet so strangely similar--to our own.
It's a story so entirely tragic and nauseatingly sad that some viewers may look at Suzanne Chisholm and Michael Parfit's movie about Luna --the orca that tried to befriend humans on B. C.'s Nootka Sound--as an experience too depressing to relive.
After all, it's not like the three-year saga didn't get ample media coverage when it first unfolded as everyone from First Nations oral historians, to the Department of Fisheries and Oceans, to schoolchildren across the province, found themselves snagged in the gill net of public opinion.
Whether you loved or hated the idea of an orca seeking human company, the story resonated across generational lines and tugged at something deeper, perhaps even primal, in the human psyche.
Since Parfit and Chisholm explore this psycho-spiritual element to the strange encounter, Saving Luna is more than a simple retelling of a very sad marine mammal tale.
It's a thoughtful and often provocative exploration of humanity's larger relationship to the natural world.
It's also deeply personal.
Co-director and narrator Parfit tells us in the opening frames that he and his partner Chisholm intended to stay in Nootka Sound for a mere three weeks after they were asked to write a story about the little killer whale who refused to leave.
The veteran team, with several National Geographic projects under their belt, imagined they would be able to keep their professional distance and remain objective observers in the denouement.
Yet, after three years covering the story and moving into the community, Parfit and Chisholm crossed the line and became participants in the drama. They literally let Luna into their hearts and minds, as everyone around them picked sides.
Casual sailors were frightened by the orca's love of nudging boats. First Nations people saw the whale as the reincarnation of their ancestral chief. And fishermen swore to put a bullet in the whale's blowhole when no one was looking. As the tensions swirled, the federal government found itself unable to come up with a consistent plan.
At one point, a DFO representative says the only humane thing to do is ignore the whale for his own good, but the policy was impossible to enforce.
Despite the apparent goodness of their intention to help the whale, DFO looked ill-prepared and wishy-washy and there's little doubt as to who comes off as the central villain in the piece.
DFO probably had the most power to help Luna, but red tape, egos, jurisdiction and a growing media circus prevented the creation of a comprehensive and workable policy.
Moreover, other specialists in cetacean behaviour were full of doubts about the establishment school of thought, and began to question previous assumptions about why some whales want to hang out with us landlubbing two-leggeds.
As Parfit and Chisholm watched the "tug-of-whale" unfold, their central focus was always Luna, and watching him pulled in one direction to the next pushed them into an emotional corner.
Their hearts were aching for the whale, and one day, when Luna came up to greet Parfit, he decided to break the law--and his own code of journalistic objectivity--and actually look into the eye of the orca.
He even stretched his hand into the icy waters of Nootka Sound to stroke the creature.
When Parfit describes the moment on film, and tells us about the sensation of touching Luna's warm skin in the cold ocean, it sends a shiver down your spine because the connection between man and creature is suddenly undeniable.
Along with breathtaking cinematography, the filmmakers talk about the web of life, interconnectedness and the pitfalls of anthropomorphism
More than anything, they ask us to consider the "wall between humans and the natural world" in the hopes we may one day renegotiate the existing contract and see ourselves as an inherent piece of the puzzle, instead of removing ourselves intellectually from the world of "beasts."
From what this movie tells us, the animals have far more to teach us than we could possibly teach them.
And little Luna, whose life came to a violent end after an encounter with a tug boat propeller, may have offered us the most valuable lesson of all by making us care about a life so different --and yet so strangely similar--to our own.
Killer whales threatened by California's thirst
California's thirst is helping drive an endangered population of West Coast killer whales toward extinction, federal biologists have concluded.
The southern resident killer whale population, which numbers 83, spends much of its time in Puget Sound but since 2000 many of them have been spotted off the California coast as far south as Monterey Bay.
In a draft scientific report, biologists conclude the damage that water operations are doing to California's salmon populations is enough to threaten the orcas' existence since they depend on salmon for food. Federal officials confirmed to MediaNews on Friday the conclusions of the report, which has not been released.
"It does point to the interconnected nature (of problems in the Delta)," said Maria Rea, the Sacramento area office supervisor for the National Marine Fisheries Service.
The findings, contained in a draft report by the agency's scientists, could elevate public support for environmental protection in the Delta, where the conflict between environmental advocates and water users has centered on Delta smelt, a nondescript fish that grows a couple of inches long and smells like cucumbers.
"People have a hard time looking at the Delta smelt for its own sake," said Zeke Grader, executive director of the Pacific Coast Federation of Fishermen's Associations. "If it's Shamu, that's a different thing."
Biologists last month reported tentatively that pumping water out of the Delta threatens to drive spring-run chinook salmon and winter-run chinook salmon extinct.
The orca study found the loss of those fish could leave whales at times with patches of ocean that lack food, Rea said.
In addition, the reliance on hatchery-raised salmon in other salmon runs makes that food source vulnerable to disruption, she said. Hatchery fish lose the natural genetic diversity that is helpful in recovering from attacks of disease or changes in environmental conditions.
As a result, the regulatory hammer of the Endangered Species Act could be used much more aggressively to fix problems plaguing the state's most valuable salmon run, according to Grader.
The Sacramento River fall-run chinook salmon, the backbone of the commercial salmon fishery, collapsed last year. Although the run is not endangered, its collapse led to the unprecedented closure of the fishing season. Grader said regulators could use the tough law to protect fall-run salmon, not because it merits the law's protection by itself but because it provides food for the endangered orcas.
Orcas are the most widely distributed whale in the world and live in all kinds of ocean habitat. Some populations roam the oceans but resident populations, like the southern resident whales in Puget Sound, tend to stay closer to home.
The southern resident orcas' diet is almost entirely salmon and about 80 percent is chinook salmon, said Ken Balcomb, executive director of the Center for Whale Research in Friday Harbor, Washington.
The 83 Puget Sound orcas eat about 500,000 salmon a year, he said.
In winter, the whales move out into the ocean and swim up and down the coast in search of food, a search that in the last seven years has brought two of the three pods as far south as Monterey. Balcomb said that in recent years California's salmon has been an important food source for the whales for six to eight weeks a year.
This year, however, the orcas swam about halfway down the coast of Oregon before giving up the hunt, Balcomb said.
"They got down there and said California is not worth it this year and turned around," Balcomb said.
The southern resident killer whale population, which numbers 83, spends much of its time in Puget Sound but since 2000 many of them have been spotted off the California coast as far south as Monterey Bay.
In a draft scientific report, biologists conclude the damage that water operations are doing to California's salmon populations is enough to threaten the orcas' existence since they depend on salmon for food. Federal officials confirmed to MediaNews on Friday the conclusions of the report, which has not been released.
"It does point to the interconnected nature (of problems in the Delta)," said Maria Rea, the Sacramento area office supervisor for the National Marine Fisheries Service.
The findings, contained in a draft report by the agency's scientists, could elevate public support for environmental protection in the Delta, where the conflict between environmental advocates and water users has centered on Delta smelt, a nondescript fish that grows a couple of inches long and smells like cucumbers.
"People have a hard time looking at the Delta smelt for its own sake," said Zeke Grader, executive director of the Pacific Coast Federation of Fishermen's Associations. "If it's Shamu, that's a different thing."
Biologists last month reported tentatively that pumping water out of the Delta threatens to drive spring-run chinook salmon and winter-run chinook salmon extinct.
The orca study found the loss of those fish could leave whales at times with patches of ocean that lack food, Rea said.
In addition, the reliance on hatchery-raised salmon in other salmon runs makes that food source vulnerable to disruption, she said. Hatchery fish lose the natural genetic diversity that is helpful in recovering from attacks of disease or changes in environmental conditions.
As a result, the regulatory hammer of the Endangered Species Act could be used much more aggressively to fix problems plaguing the state's most valuable salmon run, according to Grader.
The Sacramento River fall-run chinook salmon, the backbone of the commercial salmon fishery, collapsed last year. Although the run is not endangered, its collapse led to the unprecedented closure of the fishing season. Grader said regulators could use the tough law to protect fall-run salmon, not because it merits the law's protection by itself but because it provides food for the endangered orcas.
Orcas are the most widely distributed whale in the world and live in all kinds of ocean habitat. Some populations roam the oceans but resident populations, like the southern resident whales in Puget Sound, tend to stay closer to home.
The southern resident orcas' diet is almost entirely salmon and about 80 percent is chinook salmon, said Ken Balcomb, executive director of the Center for Whale Research in Friday Harbor, Washington.
The 83 Puget Sound orcas eat about 500,000 salmon a year, he said.
In winter, the whales move out into the ocean and swim up and down the coast in search of food, a search that in the last seven years has brought two of the three pods as far south as Monterey. Balcomb said that in recent years California's salmon has been an important food source for the whales for six to eight weeks a year.
This year, however, the orcas swam about halfway down the coast of Oregon before giving up the hunt, Balcomb said.
"They got down there and said California is not worth it this year and turned around," Balcomb said.
zaterdag 7 februari 2009
Killer whales of Prince William Sound expected to die off
This morning's Anchorage Daily News delivers the bad news about a killer whale population that calls Prince William Sound its home: the whales aren't going to make it due in part to the Exxon Valdez oil spill.
An already fragile population of killer whales that hunts Prince William Sound never recovered from the Exxon Valdez oil spill and is doomed to die off, biologists said this week.
Marine mammal biologist Craig Matkin of Homer has tracked the animals since the mid-1980s and said he never thought he'd see an entire population of whales -- even a small one -- disappear.
"To blame it all on the spill would not be fair, but that's the final death blow," Matkin said.
An already fragile population of killer whales that hunts Prince William Sound never recovered from the Exxon Valdez oil spill and is doomed to die off, biologists said this week.
Marine mammal biologist Craig Matkin of Homer has tracked the animals since the mid-1980s and said he never thought he'd see an entire population of whales -- even a small one -- disappear.
"To blame it all on the spill would not be fair, but that's the final death blow," Matkin said.
vrijdag 6 februari 2009
Scientist Has 'Snowball Fight' With a Killer Whale
The killer whale with a snowball ... well, a chunk of ice, really ... just before she tossed it. Credit: Robert L. Pitman
Pamplona has the Running of the Bulls, but McMurdo Sound, in the southern Ross Sea, Antarctica, has something even more spectacular: the Stampeding of the Orcas.
Each summer (December through February) an icebreaker penetrates miles into the frozen sea ice to open up a resupply channel to McMurdo Station, and the killer whales have learned to take advantage of the increased foraging area.
With my colleagues Wayne Perryman and Don LeRoi, I have come to gather evidence that McMurdo killer whales — which have distinct color patterning and prey preferences — may be a separate species. To make our case, we are collecting skin samples for DNA, taking photographs, and simply getting to know the orcas a little better in their natural environment.
We are 300 feet up in a United States Coast Guard helicopter, working our way along an extended crack in the ice that has opened off the main channel, when we spot at least thirty killer whales in a long, scattered pod. We land the helicopter a half-mile ahead, well off the ice edge, and while the rotor blades are still whop-whopping, our pilot, Lieutenant Wendy Hart, signals that it’s safe to get out. We charge across the frozen sea toward the sliver of water. As we approach, a four-foot-tall black letter opener slices across our view: the dorsal fin of an adult male killer whale. We see his small cloud of breath and, a full second after, an explosive gasp from the lung-pumping mammal reaches our ears. That kindred sound, so similar to our own labored breathing, raises the hair on the back of my neck.
When we get to the water we find it black and glassy calm. The helo has shut down and now the only sound on this frozen plain is the occasional squeak of our rubber boots in the powdery snow. But then, another blast of respiration announces that more killer whales have surfaced along the edge of the ice, ice so thick that we can walk right up to the rim of the whales’ world. The water is clear, and their white eye-patches are easy to follow as they glide beneath the surface. Another adult male, maybe eighteen feet long, surfaces three feet away; his breath fogs my glasses before I instinctively jump back. Then a cow and her new calf charge through like a train with a small caboose. The calf — young enough that it still swims in jerky motions — lifts its head clear of the water, perhaps to get a better look at the novel creatures out on the ice. The adults seem to have more pressing business elsewhere.
Yesterday we saw a pod that was in less of a hurry. One of the whales, probably an adult female, was lolling in front of us. I wanted her to know we were there, so I tossed a snowball out to her. My throw was off: it tapped her on the side, and the dry snow vaporized with a muffled “pat.” In response, she hesitated, and then, to my surprise, she started pushing around a piece of ice that was a couple of feet across. At one point she flicked it with the end of her snout, and it broke in two.
She disappeared for a minute and brought back a replacement chunk of ice — about the size of a volleyball. This time, when she arched her head back and snapped it forward, the ice flew out of the water and several feet ahead. For five minutes she motored around the small pond in front of us, repeatedly launching her ball of ice, before she lost interest and went on her way. I had to wonder: Did I just show a killer whale how to throw snowballs?
Today there will be no such dallying. The thundering herd takes about five minutes to blow by us. In the commotion, I frantically alternate between camera and crossbow. The photographs will allow us to estimate how many whales there are here, and with the crossbow we take a harmless snippet of skin for genetic analysis — to determine if the Ross Sea killer whales are in fact a different species. The whales ignore our efforts, and within a few moments we are left with only our samples, our photos, and the silence once again.
Robert L. Pitman is a marine ecologist at the Southwest Fisheries Science Center in La Jolla, California. He has spent much of the past thirty-five years at sea studying whales and dolphins around the world.
donderdag 5 februari 2009
Older Killer Whales Make The Best Mothers
Killer whales (Orcinus orca) nearing the menopause may be more successful in rearing their young. New research published in BioMed Central's open access journal Frontiers in Zoology shows that estimated survival rates for calves born to these older mothers were 10% higher than those for other calves.
Eric Ward from the Northwest Fisheries Science Center, Seattle, USA, coordinated a team of researchers who studied killer whales inhabiting the inland and nearshore waters of Washington state (USA) and British Columbia (Canada). They used a 30-year dataset collected by the Center for Whale Research and Canada's Department of Fisheries and Oceans. He said, "During annual photographic surveys, nearly every individual in the population has been recorded. Each animal has unique pigmentation, scars, and fin shapes, allowing us to track the survival and reproductive performance of each female over time".
The authors aimed to investigate what benefits killer whales derive from the menopause. One theory, termed the "attentive mother hypothesis", is that giving birth to calves and then losing the ability to reproduce helps the mother to focus on bringing up her offspring, without wasting time and energy on further pregnancies. The authors' results support this theory to an extent in that during a calf's first year of life, having a mother who was nearing menopause increased chances of survival. According to Ward, "We found that the oldest mothers may also be the best mothers. Older females may be more successful in raising young because of maternal experience, or they may allocate more effort to their offspring relative to younger females".
Killer whales are extremely long lived, with one female believed to be more than 90 years old. Males rarely live past 50, but female life expectancy is considerably longer. Females can produce their first calf as early as age 10, and continue to produce offspring until their early 40s.
Eric Ward from the Northwest Fisheries Science Center, Seattle, USA, coordinated a team of researchers who studied killer whales inhabiting the inland and nearshore waters of Washington state (USA) and British Columbia (Canada). They used a 30-year dataset collected by the Center for Whale Research and Canada's Department of Fisheries and Oceans. He said, "During annual photographic surveys, nearly every individual in the population has been recorded. Each animal has unique pigmentation, scars, and fin shapes, allowing us to track the survival and reproductive performance of each female over time".
The authors aimed to investigate what benefits killer whales derive from the menopause. One theory, termed the "attentive mother hypothesis", is that giving birth to calves and then losing the ability to reproduce helps the mother to focus on bringing up her offspring, without wasting time and energy on further pregnancies. The authors' results support this theory to an extent in that during a calf's first year of life, having a mother who was nearing menopause increased chances of survival. According to Ward, "We found that the oldest mothers may also be the best mothers. Older females may be more successful in raising young because of maternal experience, or they may allocate more effort to their offspring relative to younger females".
Killer whales are extremely long lived, with one female believed to be more than 90 years old. Males rarely live past 50, but female life expectancy is considerably longer. Females can produce their first calf as early as age 10, and continue to produce offspring until their early 40s.
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