Orca
Introductions
Hello there! I’m an orca named Wee-oooouup, but you can call me We-oop if that’s easier. (Your scientists have nicknamed my whole family, including me, but I prefer my orca-given name.) Many people used to view my kind as methodical killing machines. While we are the apex predators wherever we swim, we are so much more than that. Family is at the heart of our worlds and many of us live with our mothers for the duration of her life. And while I may rough house with my family members, I would never be aggressive with them.
Our society is matriarchal, led by our grandmothers and mothers. As an adult male, I weigh 12,000 pounds (5,443 kilograms) and measure 24 feet (7 meters), but I would never throw my proverbial weight around with my sisters who weigh 8,000 pounds (3,629 kilograms) and are 20 feet (6 meters) long. Because I’m one of the chattiest of the group, my family nominated me to fin-troduce you to what it’s like being an orca. Let’s dive in!
Fast Facts
Where We Live
We are one of the most widespread species on Earth and inhabit every ocean and most seas ranging from the Arctic to Antarctica.
IUCN Status
Data Deficient. However, some countries like Canada and the United States recognize that specific populations of orcas like the Southern Residents are Endangered, primarily due to:
- Vessel effects including noise from commercial shipping, vessel strikes, and oil spills;
- Our waters are polluted with persistent organic pollutants and we are the most PCB-contaminated species on the planet; and
- Lack of prey, which is exacerbated by climate change.
Celebrity Orca
Tahlequah or J35 made headlines in 2018 after losing her calf a half hour after she was born. Tahlequah carried the body for 17 days and more than 1,000 miles in what was dubbed her “Tour of Grief”. Tahlequah’s family remained close to her, taking turns staying by her side. Millions of humans felt a connection to Tahlequah, and many began to advocate for us as a result. To learn more about Tahlequah, including her most recent tour of grief in late 2024 through early 2025, visit her Wikipedia page or watch this short video.
World Orca Day is July 14!
Fun Fact
Despite being dubbed killer whales, we are actually the largest member of the dolphin family.
Orca Social Structure
My Family
Our lives revolve around our families. We are constantly in touch with each other either physically or acoustically. We’re usually so in sync that we all surface for a breath simultaneously, even when we’re not immediately next to each other. If you see me alone, the rest of my family can’t be far behind, including my grandmother. She leads our family because she is so well-versed in our travel routes, food sources, and where to be each season regardless of what conditions exist. My family also includes Mom, Auntie, my sisters, cousin, and nephew. We form a highly stable group, and we even have our own repertoire of distinct calls or dialect.
My Extended Family
My family is part of a pod, meaning we spend at least half our time together as a full group. This extended family includes Grandma’s sisters, all their offspring and grandoffspring. We share all of our calls in our pod, which is good because when we’re all together, we tend to carry on unending conversations.
My extended family is part of a community that includes two other pods with whom we regularly spend time. We only associate with the orcas who are part of this group.
Ecotypes
While our populations around the world share some basic similarities, there are also tremendous differences. As a result, each community is classified as one of ten ecotypes, with the three overarching types being:
- Inshore Fish-eaters (or Residents) prefer to hang out in larger groups and are typically chatty and playful
- Mammal-eaters (or Bigg’s killer whales or Transients) tend to be quieter and stealthier, at least while hunting, and hang out in smaller groups
- Offshore Fish-eaters travel far offshore. This rather mysterious group noshes on sharks.
Members of the various ecotypes do not share a language nor spend time together. When we inhabit the same waters, we go to great lengths to avoid each other. We never ever switch affiliations and in the rare event we cross paths, we usually swim right past each other. For detailed information on our ecotypes and communities, check out this video.
How We Communicate – Pulsed Calls
Because our world offers limited visibility, we rely on acoustic calls to stay in touch. Most of our social vocalizations are loud, one to two second pulses that may be repeated five or more times by one of us or by several of us calling and answering each other. When the waters are relatively calm, these pulsed calls can be heard for up to 10 miles to help us synchronize our group activities and to maintain group cohesion. Each family uses 7 – 17 calls, some of which we share with our extended family. Listen in on a quick clip of our pulsed calls or a longer dictionary of pulsed calls.
Summing Up Our Social Structure
I understand that our social structure may seem confusing. To sum up, there are ten ecotypes of orcas swimming across the world that fall into three broad types (e.g., residents, transients or offshores) that each encompass different populations of orcas (like the Northern or Southern Residents). Within each population, there are pods (e.g., the J, K, or L Pod) which share vocalizations and each pod includes several matrilines (e.g., the J11 or K13 matriline).
Growing Up Orca
In the Beginning
My life began amidst my adoring family members. As I was born, they took turns lifting me to the surface for my first breaths. They swam around me, touching me constantly, and eventually pushed me to Mom’s mammary glands so I would start nursing. That day, I was 8 feet (2 meters) long and weighed 400 pounds (180 kilograms). I looked like a mini adult with the exception that my white markings were an orangish hue that paled after I gained some weight. Enjoy this short video featuring an adorable newborn orca.
As the festivities faded, it was time to travel to our next location. I swam between Mom and Grandma, in the slipstream behind Mom that helped pull me along. She and I were in total sync – she’d surface for a breath, then I would. Mom nuzzled me often, and I’d slide along her body for the sheer joy of touching her.
Within days, I began to babble – a poor attempt to imitate Mom’s calls. Auntie laughed at my limited baby abilities so Mom playfully headbutted her in my defense. It’s all good fun because we’re such a close-knit family. And happily, I executed my first successful call two months later.
For my first year, I was always within a body-length of Mom, often swimming immediately next to her so we were touching. As a I grew stronger, we’d regularly execute synchronized breaches. We played a lot too – like when she’d toss me up and roll me over her body or I’d slap my tail fin near her. The ocean was my playground, and I also enjoyed pulling floating strands of kelp underwater and goosing seagulls from below.
By the end of my first year, I had doubled in size but was still small compared to the rest of my family. I spent most of my time with Mom but started swimming a little more with Grandma and Auntie while my older sisters vied for opportunities to “babysit” me. Even after five years, I remained super close to Mom while slowly gaining some independence. Eventually she introduced me to the other youngsters in our extended family and I played with them when we were all together.
By the time I was six years old, I could execute the full repertoire of my family’s calls. As I got a little older, I was invited to boys-only adventures for a few hours at a time. The group included my cousin and five others from our community. We’d hang out near the surface and had fun exploding out of the water, chasing each other, and rolling over each other. There was no aggression involved, just lots of tactile contact and whistling softly to each other in private conversations.
At 15, my dorsal fin grew straighter and taller to the adult male size of 5 feet (2 meters). My Mom’s and sisters’ dorsal fins are only 3 feet (1 meter) high so it’s one good way for you to tell the difference between adult males and females. My dorsal fin is a good indicator of my age and my health but more importantly, it meant I’d become a “mature” orca.
How We Communicate – Whistles
You may whistle while you work. We whistle while we play! Whistles are a quieter communication tool that we use for close-range conversations. Listen to us whistling!
Adulting, Orca Style
Ode to My Mom
Even though I’m now an adult, Mom and I continue to share a very special bond. The whole family shares food but Mom is particularly generous. She always takes her salmon to the surface so she can divide it among us. More than half of what she catches goes to her kids — mostly me but my sisters are occasional beneficiaries too. Mom understood that my size prevents me from executing the maneuvers she performs while fishing. Also, because I’m larger, I need to eat 25 salmon a day compared to my sisters who eat 18 salmon a day. The downside to her generosity is that she doesn’t get as much to eat, which means she likely will never have another calf.
I think I’d die without Mom’s support — literally. And it would hardly be a fluke occurrence. We adult males are fourteen times more likely to die after we lose our moms unless we find a surrogate. I guess it’s lucky that females of our species can live 80 – 90 years. We males aren’t quite as lucky and average a 30-year life span. But that bodes well for not having to live without Mom!
Super Times with My Superpod
While I love my Mom, I also enjoy superpod gatherings, which can last for days or even weeks at a time. My community has a unique way of greeting each other after an absence, which could be as little as a day spent apart. Each pod forms a straight line at the surface, and we face each other. After a brief pause, we all dive in unison, and, after a few moments, we erupt in breaches, spyhops, and tail slaps. As we frolic, we touch as much as possible, nuzzling and rolling over one another and communicating via an unending stream of squeaks, screeches, and whistles. Eventually, we break into smaller groups: youngsters head off to play, older matriarchs catch up with each other, and young mothers and babies form a nursery. Check out a video of one of our superpod get togethers.
During superpod times, we engage in different behaviors in particular locations. Some spots are meant for foraging while others accommodate playful activities like breaching and tail slapping. Superpod time is also when mating occurs. Although I was sexually mature when my dorsal fin grew to its adult size, I waited until I was a little older to begin mating. There is no physical aggression when vying for female attention and Mom introduced me to the available ladies. We orcas are a rather amorous lot, so ……. (I’ll let you do the math on this one).
Well, I’ll Be an Orca’s Uncle
About 17 months after an amorous escapade, my oldest sister gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Mom, Grandma, and Auntie pushed the baby to the surface for his first breath. We all slapped our tails near him to welcome him to the family and continued to help push him out of the water. After 20 minutes of celebrating, we headed out with my new nephew swimming between my sister and our mom.
My other sister wasn’t so lucky. She gave birth during a period when salmon were in short supply. Because my sister was depleted, my niece survived only a few hours. We all helped to bring the baby to the surface to breathe while she was with us and when she died, the family began mourning. We surfaced rapidly and swam back and forth in a tight area, making quick changes in direction. After 20 minutes of displaying our distress, we banded together as a family and left the area. I swam immediately next to my middle sister with my older sister on her other side to show our support. Unfortunately, because our waters are so polluted and salmon have been overhunted, more than half of our births end in similar tragedies.
Random Acts of Kindness
Despite the fin we’ve been dealt, we orcas perform random acts of kindness. We’re always down to help our family members in need, such as my niece, and sometimes this extends to others we regularly encounter. For example, we are quite familiar with the orca researchers that study us. One time a heavy fog rolled in that nullified visibility above the surface. We could feel the scientist’s stress mounting so we swam in formation around the boat until she understood we were there to help and guided her home. While the salmon may not agree, helping others is just part of who we are.
How We Communicate – Surface Activity and Excitement Calls
When we are active at the surface, our behaviors communicate information to our families. Sometimes I slap my tail down on the surface, or engage in fin slaps, cartwheels, and breaching. These all contain messages, but I’ll leave you to guess what it all means.
During superpods you’re also likely to hear our pulsed excitement calls. This communication is innate and universal to all of us orcas – sort of like laughing is for humans. It includes detailed information on our emotional state and current activity.
A Typical Day for Me as an Adult
Desperately Seeking Salmon
OK, so random acts of kindness may not always be part of my typical day. Instead, I eat, play with my family, rest, and travel to new locations. As dawn breaks, my family is often on a continuing mission to find food. We’re rather finicky eaters, and only salmon is on the menu. We prefer Chinook salmon but will eat chum salmon if that’s all we can find. We often seek fish throughout the night and are spread out over several miles. But never fear, we coordinate our movements so we’re all swimming in the same direction.
Now that I’m older and we’re in familiar territory, I have a perfect mental map of the sea floor in this area. As I navigate through the water, I hear a sudden popping sound — a fish! I send out a short click directed at the source. Because I’m in relatively shallow water, the echo comes back quickly to tell me it’s a large rockfish. No thank you! I keep swimming.
After a while, Mom calls out to announce she is moving further offshore. My sisters and cousin issue their own calls to tell us they are going to meet her there. I also return the call, and with a slight flick of my flukes, I glide effortlessly towards them.
Mom then communicates that she found a concentrated group of salmon, so I rush to meet her. As I enter the area, I pick off a large fish. Being the dutiful son, I tear it in half to share with Mom. She catches two more, which she shares with me. Then my older sister and baby nephew arrive. In his excitement, he bolts ahead of his mom to reach us. Mom gently reminds him that it’s time to hunt rather than play so he darts back to his mom. We continue to eat until we’re all sated.
Frolicking Family Fun
Once we all have full bellies, it’s time to play, socialize, and have a whale of a good time. We’re very tactile and like to touch each other with our pec fins and tail flukes. Then the momentum shifts, and we chase each other in circles, roll over each other and swim upside down for the fun of it.
My nephew looks to Mom for approval to be goofy and she lets him know that now is time to let off his pent-up energy. He tries a tail slap but doesn’t quite get it right. In the spirit of fun, I roll under my nephew until he laughs. Then I surface to show him the proper way to execute a tail slap. He tries it again and does a better job. It will be a while before he perfects it but I’m down to keep tutoring him.
Before I know it, Grandma launches a breach and crashes down with a huge splash. The whole family erupts with laughter. My sister and I follow her with five synchronized breaches in a row. Then Auntie swims through a kelp bed and surfaces with it draped over her body. It looks like fun, so my cousin and I race towards her to procure our own kelp boas. After a luxurious kelp bed massage treatment, I manage to wrap it around my tail fin while my cousin carries it in his mouth.
During frolicking family fun time, just about anything goes. Grandma told me that the family once spent a summer donning salmon hats. I thought that it was hilarious, so I tried to revive the fad but only my sisters joined me. Another fad that did catch on for a while was dragging kelp bulbs to the ocean floor and releasing them so they rocket to the surface. Wheee! We also sometimes chase porpoises for the fun of it. We try to play with them, but it often ends badly for the porpoise.
Rest Stops
After feeding and playing, it’s time to rest for a few hours. We move into a tight group near the surface. While your brains are wired to breathe automatically, ours work differently: we must consciously make each inhale and exhale. To keep breathing while we rest, we alternate the sleeping hemispheres in our brains. During this time, we take one long three-to-five-minute dive, surface for five to six short dives and then roll deep for another long dive. So even when sleeping, we swim and surface, albeit at a slower pace than when we’re fully awake.
While I’m still dozing, Grandma hears a call from one of her sisters. She tunes in to the water temperature, the strength of the tides, and the current trends this late afternoon and recalls the extended family is due to return. As I rouse, she shares the news. The whole family is excited to see the rest of our pod, so we head out to meet them. As the sun sets, the pod joins together for more frolicking family fun, which continues until it’s time to once again seek salmon.
How We Navigate – Echolocation Clicks
Listen to us use echolocation to navigate and detect prey. By flexing our heads, we can focus a seven to ten second click train to bounce sound off objects. Listening to the resulting echoes allows us to create an acoustic map including the size, shape, and distance of objects. We can even tell what kind of fish we’re approaching. As we hone in on our prey, we make faster and more urgent clicks. When we’re all together, the full pod can construct maps from the clicks emitted by a single member.
Lifestyles of the Other Orcas
While my family feeds on fish, other orcas specialize in different prey. Several groups have crafted ingenious methods of hunting. In Antarctica, they use a technique called “wave washing“. They swim in formation to create waves strong enough to wash seals off ice floes and into the water. In Patagonia, Argentina, the orcas beach themselves to catch their prey. And near Norway, the orcas work together to hunt herring.
How We Communicate – Basic Orca
Now that you know the different ways that we can have to communicate, here’s a crash course on putting it all together. Sounds aren’t paired with precise behaviors. In other words, there is no certain call before we breach or eat a fish. Instead, we use different calls when engaging in specific activities like foraging or playing. The frequency of the call also informs us of the meaning. Here’s a primer:
- Weeeeooouuuup says I’m over here and doing fine
- Pituuu is used when we’re synchronized like changing directions
- Wee-oo -uuo indicates tranquility like when we spread out to forage.
How You Can Help Us
Noise pollution limits our ability to communicate and hunt. Whale watching is very restricted where I live but can be disruptive to other populations. While I understand you want to see us up close and personal, consider a land-based option for your viewing pleasure, perhaps from one of these fine locations along the Pacific coast. If you are a boater, be aware of safe boating practices to limit noise and disturbances. You can also limit your use of toxic chemicals to prevent further toxins from reaching our ocean home. See Ocean Threats Finally, please protect the prey we rely on.
If you’d like to help the Southern Residents, don’t eat farmed salmon. Instead, support wild salmon recovery including dam breaching. Also, because climate change is exacerbating the short supply of salmon, you can take action to limit your carbon footprint. See Climate Change Actions You Can Take.
Returning the Favor
Orcas and humans may not be all that different at our cores. Like you, we are devoted to raising our young ones and grieve our family members when we lose them. But maybe our lifestyle can remind you that it’s possible to navigate conflict without aggression. As part of that practice, have empathy for others and execute random acts of kindness whenever you can. It’s also crucial to be loyal to the important people in your lives and touch can really enhance the bond you share with them.
For more information on orcas, you can check out The Orca Conservancy website here. If you’d like a more in-depth source, read Orca: Shared Waters, Shared Home by Lynda Mapes or Endangered Orcas: The Story of the Southern Residents by Monika Wieland Shields.
Special thanks to Monika Wieland Shields, an orca researcher with the Orca Behavior Institute for serving as the expert advisor on orcas.
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References
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