Killer whales, false killer whales, a pygmy manta ray and a humpback whale have been spotted in the waters off Eden in recent weeks.
Richard Cunningham of Freedom Charters has been fortunate to be in the right place at the right time to see these wonders of the deep.
Just last week he was aboard the Connemara with whale specialists when a pod of about seven killer whales came into sight.
"We recognised a couple of females and juveniles and a dominate bull with the biggest dorsal fin of the group," Mr Cunningham said.
The killer whales breached several times and a large male came right up to the boat.
Four days prior to that the group saw a "huge" pod of false killer whales, a large member of the dolphin family.
"We thought they were a pod of dolphins at first," Mr Cunningham said.
As Eden's old timers will attest, the killer whales traditionally showed up in Twofold Bay at this time of year looking for the northbound humpbacks and their young, but so far this year only a couple of sightings out over the shelf have been reported by fishermen.
However Mr Cunningham said a humpback had been sighted close to shore at Haycock on Tuesday, May 27, and had swum under an amateur fishing boat, startling the anglers.
A lime green pygmy manta ray was also sighted at Greencape.
Mr Cunningham said he had twice been spotted by those aboard his boat.
woensdag 4 juni 2008
Mitochondrial Sequence Divergence Among Antarctic Killer Whale Ecotypes Is Consistent With Multiple Species
Recently, three visually distinct forms of killer whales (Orcinus orca) were described from Antarctic waters and designated as types A, B and C.
Based on consistent differences in prey selection and habitat preferences, morphological divergence and apparent lack of interbreeding among these broadly sympatric forms, it was suggested that they may represent separate species.
To evaluate this hypothesis, we compared complete sequences of the mitochondrial control region from 81 Antarctic killer whale samples, including 9 type A, 18 type B, 47 type C and 7 typeundetermined individuals.
Q2 We found four fixed differences between types A and B and C, and a single fixed difference between types B and C.
These results are consistent with reproductive isolation among the different forms, although caution is needed in drawing further conclusions.
Despite dramatic differences in morphology and ecology, the relatively low levels of sequence divergence in Antarctic killer whales indicate that these evolutionary changes occurred relatively rapidly and recently.
Based on consistent differences in prey selection and habitat preferences, morphological divergence and apparent lack of interbreeding among these broadly sympatric forms, it was suggested that they may represent separate species.
To evaluate this hypothesis, we compared complete sequences of the mitochondrial control region from 81 Antarctic killer whale samples, including 9 type A, 18 type B, 47 type C and 7 typeundetermined individuals.
Q2 We found four fixed differences between types A and B and C, and a single fixed difference between types B and C.
These results are consistent with reproductive isolation among the different forms, although caution is needed in drawing further conclusions.
Despite dramatic differences in morphology and ecology, the relatively low levels of sequence divergence in Antarctic killer whales indicate that these evolutionary changes occurred relatively rapidly and recently.
maandag 2 juni 2008
"Saving Luna" recalls the riveting and polarizing tale of the killer whale
Two years after a tragic accident ended the saga of the wayward killer whale known as Luna, documentary makers Suzanne Chisholm and Michael Parfit bring the gregarious little orca to the Seattle International Film Festival in a thought-provoking account likely to stir debate. From the opening montage of watery coves and misty mountainsides that establishes the remote setting of Nootka Sound on the west coast of Vancouver Island, "Saving Luna" sets out to transport audiences beneath the surface of this compelling story, and does so.
As was widely reported, the 2-year-old orca had gone missing and was presumed dead before he mysteriously appeared in the waters of Nootka Sound in July 2001. One of our endangered southern resident orcas, Luna was alone, some 200 miles from his pod's prime territory.
Killer whales are among the most social of mammals and, having no other orcas with which to communicate, Luna made startling contact with people and boats. Some locals were delighted, but others were alarmed. This put the young orca at risk and created a dilemma that posited science, politics and cultures at an impasse.
Marine-mammal experts were at odds with policymakers over whether and how to reunite the orca with its pod, while the indigenous people of Nootka opposed any intervention, maintaining that nature be allowed to take its course.
On assignment for Smithsonian Magazine, Chisholm and Parfit traveled to Gold River, B.C., in the spring of 2004 to cover Luna's attempted capture by Canada's Department of Fisheries and Oceans. The married couple wound up living in that inlet town for nearly three years, becoming advocates for a whale.
As the film begins, Parfit narrates, "There is a wall, built of fear and respect, which normally stands between humans and wild beings. We humans tell sweet and magical fables about going through that wall and making friends with a mysterious creature on the other side. ... But we don't think it could actually happen."
That theme resounds throughout the film: Was it possible to actually befriend a wild animal such as Luna, and could friendship have saved him?
To some, this idea might verge on anthropomorphism, but for Parfit, it is a legitimate way of understanding how Luna broke down that barrier.
"My sense of it," explains the filmmaker, "is that the social need that he had and that we have, that we call friendship, is extremely complicated in our lives and in theirs. In the details it's going to be different. But that big thing we think of as 'friendship,' which encompasses all of those emotional structures, is a good metaphor for what he needed and a good metaphor for what we sensed when we looked in his eye."
And a look into Luna's eyes is what viewers get. We are virtually introduced to the playful, charismatic orca, sometimes through stunning underwater photography, and sometimes through the moving accounts of people whose encounters and interactions with Luna are captured on tape. We are also afforded a view from the cultural perspective of Nootka's Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nation Band, for whom orcas are esteemed protectors of the sea and who believed Luna embodied the spirit of their recently deceased chief.
The captivity contingency
These vantage points shed new light on the dramatic events in June of 2004, when the First Nation band intervened in the DFO's effort to relocate Luna with his family and pod. At the time, department officials acknowledged that their attempt might well meet with failure. Now we hear from DFO marine scientist John Ford, "most of us were not convinced that it would be successful."
One contingency was to place the orca in a marine park aquarium. In "Saving Luna," some locals voice suspicions that Luna was likely bound for captivity, and the film presents some evidence to support that notion. We are shown correspondence from one such facility to the DFO expressing "considerable interest" in the orca, stating Luna "will enhance our breeding program."
Parfit notes that their investigation neither points to any conspiracy nor concludes that Luna's captivity was a fait accompli, but it does indicate the contingency was elaborate. "Logistics were already in place to take him to a captive facility soon after his release, if he continued to play with boats," he says. "It was a very advanced and detailed plan, and that's the one place where the department was not frank with the public."
To the tribe, however, it was a foregone conclusion that Luna was headed straight to captivity. In the film, hereditary chief Jerry Jack speaks adamantly. "That was their bottom line. They were going to sell him to an aquarium."
Stewards of Luna
The film presents an eye-opening depiction of the attempted capture, as tribal members paddle out in wooden canoes to rally for Luna's freedom. The sound of their chanting fades beneath Parfit's narrative, evoking a mythical image.
"Luna followed the song, and they turned into the wind. An ancient people trying to make a modern legend of sea and spirit with a little whale."
The tribe ultimately prevailed and was granted a stewardship permit to keep Luna from interacting with boaters. No longer a dolphin-size infant, Luna had damaged some boats by playing too roughly, and a handful of anglers had threatened to kill him.
Here we become aware of a powerful emotional bond between Luna and First Nation steward Jamie James. By examining this fablelike connection, the filmmakers make perhaps their best argument that friendship, or something akin to it, could indeed keep Luna from harm.
Getting personal
This poignant portrayal of an interspecies relationship does invite debate, as the filmmakers reveal their own personal involvement in the tale. Chisholm acknowledges to the audience, "For us, the idea of getting involved in a story that we're trying to cover was a fundamental break from journalistic rules."
Venturing into the political arena, Parfit and Chisholm proposed that Luna be provided consistent and structured human interaction to hopefully eliminate haphazard encounters. Chisholm says the decision to cross over into advocacy took a lot of soul searching.
"We were still reporting the facts; we were reporting the truth," offers Chisholm. "We didn't feel that we were losing our objectivity in that sense, but we did get involved in that we tried to change the outcome of this individual's life. It really felt like morally we had no choice."
Things become even more personal, if not more controversial, when Parfit jumps in and assumes an unauthorized role after the First Nation's permit had expired.
"We felt compelled and driven," explains Chisholm, "based on the evidence that showed again and again that you couldn't keep Luna away from people. Mike's goal in going out there was to have a presence on the water when there was no stewardship and hopefully prevent unwanted interactions."
"It was agonizing," confides Parfit. "Yet we felt so strongly about it because of all the information we had gathered. We felt that when Luna was with us, he was safe."
The end isn't everything
In a story rife with human conflict and finger-pointing, "Saving Luna" navigates deftly through these contentious waters. It does, however, pose a curious footnote to the orca's sad demise in a freak accident with a tugboat: "The department, which had prosecuted a woman for petting Luna's nose, did not conduct a serious investigation into his death."
Yet the film doesn't dwell on the tale's heartbreaking conclusion. Instead, it succeeds by keeping its focus on the live Luna.
"The fact that the story ended is not the point," muses Parfit. "Luna represented something extraordinary, and we didn't want to overshadow that by the circumstances that ended the story."
As was widely reported, the 2-year-old orca had gone missing and was presumed dead before he mysteriously appeared in the waters of Nootka Sound in July 2001. One of our endangered southern resident orcas, Luna was alone, some 200 miles from his pod's prime territory.
Killer whales are among the most social of mammals and, having no other orcas with which to communicate, Luna made startling contact with people and boats. Some locals were delighted, but others were alarmed. This put the young orca at risk and created a dilemma that posited science, politics and cultures at an impasse.
Marine-mammal experts were at odds with policymakers over whether and how to reunite the orca with its pod, while the indigenous people of Nootka opposed any intervention, maintaining that nature be allowed to take its course.
On assignment for Smithsonian Magazine, Chisholm and Parfit traveled to Gold River, B.C., in the spring of 2004 to cover Luna's attempted capture by Canada's Department of Fisheries and Oceans. The married couple wound up living in that inlet town for nearly three years, becoming advocates for a whale.
As the film begins, Parfit narrates, "There is a wall, built of fear and respect, which normally stands between humans and wild beings. We humans tell sweet and magical fables about going through that wall and making friends with a mysterious creature on the other side. ... But we don't think it could actually happen."
That theme resounds throughout the film: Was it possible to actually befriend a wild animal such as Luna, and could friendship have saved him?
To some, this idea might verge on anthropomorphism, but for Parfit, it is a legitimate way of understanding how Luna broke down that barrier.
"My sense of it," explains the filmmaker, "is that the social need that he had and that we have, that we call friendship, is extremely complicated in our lives and in theirs. In the details it's going to be different. But that big thing we think of as 'friendship,' which encompasses all of those emotional structures, is a good metaphor for what he needed and a good metaphor for what we sensed when we looked in his eye."
And a look into Luna's eyes is what viewers get. We are virtually introduced to the playful, charismatic orca, sometimes through stunning underwater photography, and sometimes through the moving accounts of people whose encounters and interactions with Luna are captured on tape. We are also afforded a view from the cultural perspective of Nootka's Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nation Band, for whom orcas are esteemed protectors of the sea and who believed Luna embodied the spirit of their recently deceased chief.
The captivity contingency
These vantage points shed new light on the dramatic events in June of 2004, when the First Nation band intervened in the DFO's effort to relocate Luna with his family and pod. At the time, department officials acknowledged that their attempt might well meet with failure. Now we hear from DFO marine scientist John Ford, "most of us were not convinced that it would be successful."
One contingency was to place the orca in a marine park aquarium. In "Saving Luna," some locals voice suspicions that Luna was likely bound for captivity, and the film presents some evidence to support that notion. We are shown correspondence from one such facility to the DFO expressing "considerable interest" in the orca, stating Luna "will enhance our breeding program."
Parfit notes that their investigation neither points to any conspiracy nor concludes that Luna's captivity was a fait accompli, but it does indicate the contingency was elaborate. "Logistics were already in place to take him to a captive facility soon after his release, if he continued to play with boats," he says. "It was a very advanced and detailed plan, and that's the one place where the department was not frank with the public."
To the tribe, however, it was a foregone conclusion that Luna was headed straight to captivity. In the film, hereditary chief Jerry Jack speaks adamantly. "That was their bottom line. They were going to sell him to an aquarium."
Stewards of Luna
The film presents an eye-opening depiction of the attempted capture, as tribal members paddle out in wooden canoes to rally for Luna's freedom. The sound of their chanting fades beneath Parfit's narrative, evoking a mythical image.
"Luna followed the song, and they turned into the wind. An ancient people trying to make a modern legend of sea and spirit with a little whale."
The tribe ultimately prevailed and was granted a stewardship permit to keep Luna from interacting with boaters. No longer a dolphin-size infant, Luna had damaged some boats by playing too roughly, and a handful of anglers had threatened to kill him.
Here we become aware of a powerful emotional bond between Luna and First Nation steward Jamie James. By examining this fablelike connection, the filmmakers make perhaps their best argument that friendship, or something akin to it, could indeed keep Luna from harm.
Getting personal
This poignant portrayal of an interspecies relationship does invite debate, as the filmmakers reveal their own personal involvement in the tale. Chisholm acknowledges to the audience, "For us, the idea of getting involved in a story that we're trying to cover was a fundamental break from journalistic rules."
Venturing into the political arena, Parfit and Chisholm proposed that Luna be provided consistent and structured human interaction to hopefully eliminate haphazard encounters. Chisholm says the decision to cross over into advocacy took a lot of soul searching.
"We were still reporting the facts; we were reporting the truth," offers Chisholm. "We didn't feel that we were losing our objectivity in that sense, but we did get involved in that we tried to change the outcome of this individual's life. It really felt like morally we had no choice."
Things become even more personal, if not more controversial, when Parfit jumps in and assumes an unauthorized role after the First Nation's permit had expired.
"We felt compelled and driven," explains Chisholm, "based on the evidence that showed again and again that you couldn't keep Luna away from people. Mike's goal in going out there was to have a presence on the water when there was no stewardship and hopefully prevent unwanted interactions."
"It was agonizing," confides Parfit. "Yet we felt so strongly about it because of all the information we had gathered. We felt that when Luna was with us, he was safe."
The end isn't everything
In a story rife with human conflict and finger-pointing, "Saving Luna" navigates deftly through these contentious waters. It does, however, pose a curious footnote to the orca's sad demise in a freak accident with a tugboat: "The department, which had prosecuted a woman for petting Luna's nose, did not conduct a serious investigation into his death."
Yet the film doesn't dwell on the tale's heartbreaking conclusion. Instead, it succeeds by keeping its focus on the live Luna.
"The fact that the story ended is not the point," muses Parfit. "Luna represented something extraordinary, and we didn't want to overshadow that by the circumstances that ended the story."
Encounter with Luna, the killer whale, is lesson in stewardship
In September 2005, I accompanied two Mowachaht/Muchalaht fisheries experts up the northwest coast of Vancouver Island aboard the tribe's lightweight Zodiac. As we returned to the deep canyon fjord of Nootka Sound, a call came over the radio from the First Nation's stewardship boat. Luna was playing at the Gold River dock.
Within minutes, we were looking for the mischievous orca. At first there was no sign of him. We idled slowly from one end of the dock to the other. "False alarm," I thought. Then I saw his head bob up beside the rusty hull of a large boat.
Fisheries coordinator Jamie James leaned over the side of the Zodiac and snapped his fingers below the surface of the water. Luna immediately swam over to us like a happy sea puppy. He seemed to recognize Jamie, and he eyed me with curiosity. I was stunned.
For the next hour, a rambunctious Luna swam back and forth between our boats as we led him from potential trouble and out toward the ocean. He gently pushed us from side to side.
He dove with playful agility beneath the hull and pushed us along from the back of the Zodiac. Luna did backflips and splashed the water with his tail and pectoral fins. He surfed in our wake and rubbed up against the side of the boat.
All I could say — over and over — was, "He's amazing!" I feel blessed to have encountered this special creature. He struck me as a sweet, gentle, childlike spirit.
I took many photographs of Luna that day and have since written about the iconic orca for several publications. It is a compelling narrative.
At a time when salmon runs are at historic lows, northern glaciers are melting at an alarming rate and earthquakes and cyclones are wiping out entire communities, Luna's presence among humans serves as a poignant reminder about our responsibility as stewards over this fragile Earth and its endangered creatures.
Within minutes, we were looking for the mischievous orca. At first there was no sign of him. We idled slowly from one end of the dock to the other. "False alarm," I thought. Then I saw his head bob up beside the rusty hull of a large boat.
Fisheries coordinator Jamie James leaned over the side of the Zodiac and snapped his fingers below the surface of the water. Luna immediately swam over to us like a happy sea puppy. He seemed to recognize Jamie, and he eyed me with curiosity. I was stunned.
For the next hour, a rambunctious Luna swam back and forth between our boats as we led him from potential trouble and out toward the ocean. He gently pushed us from side to side.
He dove with playful agility beneath the hull and pushed us along from the back of the Zodiac. Luna did backflips and splashed the water with his tail and pectoral fins. He surfed in our wake and rubbed up against the side of the boat.
All I could say — over and over — was, "He's amazing!" I feel blessed to have encountered this special creature. He struck me as a sweet, gentle, childlike spirit.
I took many photographs of Luna that day and have since written about the iconic orca for several publications. It is a compelling narrative.
At a time when salmon runs are at historic lows, northern glaciers are melting at an alarming rate and earthquakes and cyclones are wiping out entire communities, Luna's presence among humans serves as a poignant reminder about our responsibility as stewards over this fragile Earth and its endangered creatures.
Orca experts hoping all whales return after swimming through diesel last year
VANCOUVER — Experts on B.C.'s killer whales will be carefully counting dorsal fins when whale season starts this month, hoping there was no lethal fallout from a diesel slick last fall in a world-famous ecological reserve off the Pacific coast.
Just a few hundred metres from where the whales heave their bodies up near the shore of Robson Bight, massaging their backs and bellies on the rocks, a barge loaded with equipment, a fuel truck and almost 1,200 litres of hydraulic oil sank in August
"When you have killer whales swimming through diesel fumes... you've got the potential for health effects," said mammal research scientist Peter Ross with the Institute of Ocean Sciences in Sidney, B.C.
"That oil exposure can present some very, very serious problems and can be fatal, if at a sufficiently high dose."
There are just 200 northern resident killer whales who spend the warmer months from June to October at the northeastern end of Vancouver Island.
One of the biggest threats to the whales is pollution, followed by boat traffic and a decline is salmon stocks, their main source of food.
"It was almost everybody's worst nightmare when it did take place, because it was so close to these very special rubbing beaches," Ross said of the barge accident. "It's one of the very few places where we know that killer whales come to rub on."
Killer whales have been classified by the federal government as a species at risk, giving the animals special protection.
The federal and provincial governments have put out a request for proposals to lift equipment, including the truck loaded with 10,000 litres of diesel, from the ocean floor where some worry it may be leaching into the marine environment for the past nine months.
While experts, environmentalists and government all agree the equipment needs to be removed, there doesn't seem to be a good time to risk an environmental disaster.
"The chance of getting this equipment up before the whales come back is pretty slim," ventured Jennifer Lash, of the environmental group Living Oceans Society.
But she said the window grows narrower as the salt water eats away at the metal of the equipment.
"When you have weakened metal and you try and lift it you have an increased chance of it breaking and cracking or some sort of leak," Lash said.
Ross has also weighed the pros and cons.
"If these killer whales are frequenting these waters in the summer months...there's the potential for whales to be immediately and directly coated in oil," he said. "Outside of the summer months, of course, we often face in these parts rough weather."
If an accident happened in bad weather Ross said it would be almost impossible to use booms to stop the fuel from hitting the sensitive ecological reserve they've been trying to protect.
In its request for proposals, the B.C. government asks for two recovery plans: One as soon as possible and another for recovery to be carried out in October.
If the equipment isn't removed soon Lash said there needs to be very strong monitoring this summer to ensure the orca aren't swimming through a fuel slick to rub on the rocks.
Lash said this horrible accident should be used as an example for other captains.
"We need to learn from these sorts of mistakes," she said. "To do that it may require charges be laid."
Several agencies, including Transport Canada, the Transportation Safety Board and the B.C. Environment Ministry are investigating the barge accident.
The company that owned the barge, Ted LeRoy Trucking, has filed for bankruptcy.
The area where the whales make their summer home is an extremely busy corridor.
Shipping traffic, cruise ships, fishing boats and whale watching operations all use the route between Vancouver Island and the B.C. mainland.
"This is one of the most congested, heavily used areas, a marine highway, that supports our coast," Lash said. "We need to ensure that we have the right regulations in there, the same way we have the right regulations on the highways that go across Canada."
Just a few hundred metres from where the whales heave their bodies up near the shore of Robson Bight, massaging their backs and bellies on the rocks, a barge loaded with equipment, a fuel truck and almost 1,200 litres of hydraulic oil sank in August
"When you have killer whales swimming through diesel fumes... you've got the potential for health effects," said mammal research scientist Peter Ross with the Institute of Ocean Sciences in Sidney, B.C.
"That oil exposure can present some very, very serious problems and can be fatal, if at a sufficiently high dose."
There are just 200 northern resident killer whales who spend the warmer months from June to October at the northeastern end of Vancouver Island.
One of the biggest threats to the whales is pollution, followed by boat traffic and a decline is salmon stocks, their main source of food.
"It was almost everybody's worst nightmare when it did take place, because it was so close to these very special rubbing beaches," Ross said of the barge accident. "It's one of the very few places where we know that killer whales come to rub on."
Killer whales have been classified by the federal government as a species at risk, giving the animals special protection.
The federal and provincial governments have put out a request for proposals to lift equipment, including the truck loaded with 10,000 litres of diesel, from the ocean floor where some worry it may be leaching into the marine environment for the past nine months.
While experts, environmentalists and government all agree the equipment needs to be removed, there doesn't seem to be a good time to risk an environmental disaster.
"The chance of getting this equipment up before the whales come back is pretty slim," ventured Jennifer Lash, of the environmental group Living Oceans Society.
But she said the window grows narrower as the salt water eats away at the metal of the equipment.
"When you have weakened metal and you try and lift it you have an increased chance of it breaking and cracking or some sort of leak," Lash said.
Ross has also weighed the pros and cons.
"If these killer whales are frequenting these waters in the summer months...there's the potential for whales to be immediately and directly coated in oil," he said. "Outside of the summer months, of course, we often face in these parts rough weather."
If an accident happened in bad weather Ross said it would be almost impossible to use booms to stop the fuel from hitting the sensitive ecological reserve they've been trying to protect.
In its request for proposals, the B.C. government asks for two recovery plans: One as soon as possible and another for recovery to be carried out in October.
If the equipment isn't removed soon Lash said there needs to be very strong monitoring this summer to ensure the orca aren't swimming through a fuel slick to rub on the rocks.
Lash said this horrible accident should be used as an example for other captains.
"We need to learn from these sorts of mistakes," she said. "To do that it may require charges be laid."
Several agencies, including Transport Canada, the Transportation Safety Board and the B.C. Environment Ministry are investigating the barge accident.
The company that owned the barge, Ted LeRoy Trucking, has filed for bankruptcy.
The area where the whales make their summer home is an extremely busy corridor.
Shipping traffic, cruise ships, fishing boats and whale watching operations all use the route between Vancouver Island and the B.C. mainland.
"This is one of the most congested, heavily used areas, a marine highway, that supports our coast," Lash said. "We need to ensure that we have the right regulations in there, the same way we have the right regulations on the highways that go across Canada."
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