In mid-September, after a three-week absence, the Southern Residents returned to inland waters for a short visit. When most of the whales departed again a few days later, we were surprised to learn that L90 Ballena stayed behind, and that she had a new calf with her. Here’s how things played out over the course of six days:

Timeline of events

September 12 – Southern Residents head east into inland waters and heard on the Haro Strait hydrophones overnight; acoustically, I determine members of all three pods are present

‍September 13 – The Center for Whale Research finds the whales in the Strait of Georgia foraging off the mouth of the Fraser River. They identify J-Pod, K-Pod, and the Greater L4 sub-group of L-Pod, and per their encounter summary, photograph L90 without a calf.

September 14 – The Residents come back south overnight, and again calls from all three pods are heard on the Haro Strait hydrophones

September 15 – In the morning, Southern Residents are picked up westbound off Sooke. In the afternoon, a report is posted to Whale Sightings in the San Juan Islands of a small group of orcas heading north off Lime Kiln with a tiny calf. Through back-of-camera photos shared, we identify L90 as the female with the calf. It soon becomes apparent no other whales are with the pair, and they spend the day “westside shuffling” and are heard on the Haro Strait hydrophones.

September 16 – L90 and the new calf, designated L128, are again in Haro Strait. Throughout the day they head north into Swanson Channel.

September 17 – L90 and L128 are picked up in the afternoon foraging in Haro Strait. They make their way south past Lime Kiln just before dark and are again heard on the Haro Strait hydrophones.

Documenting this short visit from the Southern Residents and the subsequent movements of L90 and her new calf is a perfect demonstration of the importance of community science. Multiple research groups and individuals collaborated to put this story together. Honestly, with whale watchers unable to view the Southern Residents at all, it has become much more difficult to confirm IDs of who is present and to track their movements, but thanks to many dedicated observers and listeners who are willing to share and collaborate, we are still able to piece together pictures like this one.

We were lucky enough to see L90 and L128 from shore on September 15-17, as well as tune in to the hydrophones. To help answer some of the common questions folks are asking, I wanted to both share my thoughts on this situation and provide some context.

Who is L90? Has she had a calf before?

 L90 Ballena (Spanish for “whale”) is a 31 year-old female that is part of the largest sub-group of L-Pod that we refer to as the GreaterL4s. She is the youngest offspring of L26 Baba, and by 2006, had lost her three older siblings. After her mom died in 2013, her only living relative was her nephew L92 Crewser. Sadly, L92 also passed way in 2018, leaving L90 as the only living member of the L26 matriline.

Most female killer whales have their first calf between the ages of 10 and 20, but Ballena was never seen with a calf until L128, making her the oldest known female for age at first documented calf. She is known to researchers for being a small whale that is also a bit oddly shaped in that she often appears lumpy or mis-proportioned. Some have speculated that these factors may have contributed to her seeming inability to have offspring.

In the summer of 2011, L90 was observed in apparent distress, spending a lot of time at the surface and moving abnormally. At first it was thought perhaps she was hit by a vessel, but with no visible signs of a strike, another theory was that she was perhaps experiencing a difficult miscarriage. A few days later, she returned to normal behavior.

Is it unusual for a mom and calf to be away from the rest of their pod?

 Yes and no. Sometimes calves aren’t seen until weeks or even months after their birth, so our sample of size of what new moms typically do is pretty small. When calves have been seen within a few days of birth (L128 is thought to have been just 1-2 days old when first seen), there have been cases where the mom and calf, often with her other offspring if she has them, distance themselves from the rest of the group. In the cases of this I have observed, however, they were still within acoustic range of the rest of their pod.

There have also been cases of very small matrilines coming into Haro Strait on their own, even when they usually travel with other whales.In 2009, K20 and K38 came in on their own without the rest of the K13s. In July of 2013 just the three L22s were here. Several times we’ve had just the four L54s. So it isn’t unprecedented for small sub-matrilines to break off for periods of time.

I’ve heard people wonder if L90 and L128 got left behind. I certainly don’t think that’s the case. She knows where she is, she knows where the other whales went, and she made the decision to stay here. While it confounds us a bit, I trust that she knows what she’s doing. Humans, who care about these whales so deeply, seem to jump immediately to “something’s wrong”. (If that’s your response, or even if it isn’t, I highly recommend you listen to two episodes of After the Breach podcast I was a part of on demystifying killer whales (here are the links to Part 1 and Part 2), where we talk about the tendency of humans to project our emotions onto the whales).

Here's an alternative scenario to consider: what if L90, who perhaps thought she would never have a calf of her own, is taking this time to enjoy the company of and bond with her new little one, without the frenzy of other whales around? Maybe this isn’t something scary, but something beautiful. I don’t know if this is true, but I also don’t know that it’s untrue. There’s nothing we can do but bear witness to her unfolding story, but again, I trust that she’s making the best decisions she can for both her and her calf.

Were we hearing the baby vocalize on the hydrophones?

 I’m excited whenever I get the chance to listen in to small groups of vocalizing Southern Resident killer whales. We don’t know nearly as much about matriline-level and individual-level repertoires and call usage compared to what we know about pod and clan level acoustics. For instance, once we got a rare chance to record L87 Onyx on his own, and we were curious if he would make any J- or K-Pod call types after spending years traveling with them. It was only a sample size of one, but we only recorded him making the call types typical of his natal L12 sub-group! Listening to an isolated mom and calf is certainly a rare opportunity.

What we know about the vocal abilities of calves comes almost exclusively from studies of captive animals where they can be more closely observed in a controlled setting. According to SeaWorld, calves begin vocalizing within days of birth, but their first calls are described as “screams” that bear little resemblance to adult vocalizations. By two months, calves start producing pulsed calls that are similar in structure to discrete calls, and they start picking up some of the stereotyped calls of their family group by six months, increasing their call repertoire as they get older. Calves selectively learn the call types their mother makes,even if they are exposed to the vocalizations of other pods and clans,demonstrating how acoustics are a badge of social identity for orcas.

For Northern Resident killer whales, it was observed that vocal behavior changes in the days following the birth of a calf. More aberrant version of discrete calls and excitement calls occur, and family-specific call types also increased in frequency. In addition to reflecting the emotional state of the family around a birth, this may also help the calf learn to recognize the sounds of its family.

So what did we hear from L90 and L128? Based on the above, it’s safe to assume that any stereotyped discrete calls were coming from L90. On September 16, I heard her making S18s, S19s, and S22s, arguably the three most common call types of the Greater L4 sub-group. On September 17, I heard these same three calls from her again, including a lot of aberrant versions of S18; both of these observations track with what was observed in Northern Residents. Even though L90 isn't "talking" to any other adult whales, I have a feeling she's vocalizing regularly so her calf gets familiar with her common call types. You can find the full Orcasound Lab hydrophone recording from 9/17 here.

As the whales moved further south on the evening of September 17, they were also audible on the Lime Kiln hydrophone. That's when we started hearing more of a different vocalization, sounding like this:

To me, this sounded more likely to be the calf, in that these calls don't match anything I've heard regularly from adult Southern Residents. But they also don't quite sound like the "screams" described from young captive whales at least a few weeks old. I sent this audio clip to a friend who has a history of working with captive cetaceans to get their opinion. They said they have heard similar sounding calls from newborn orcas, increasing my confidence that this is fact L128 making these vocals!

It will be fascinating to see how this story plays out from here. In the meantime, behaviorally and acoustically, we'll be monitoring as much as we are able, as this unique situations presents a special opportunity to gain insight into a new mom-calf relationship.