Brutal but fascinating footage captured in Monterey Bay, California, shows a dramatic and grisly attack by more than 30 killer whales on two adult gray whales. First, around 10 orcas encroached on the pair of large grays, and as time progressed more and more, and even more, groups arrived to join the fray.
The extraordinary wildlife encounter went on for over five hours. Long-time marine biologist Nancy Black, 60, told The Epoch Times she was amazed to witness it.
“In all my years of studying the killer whales,” Black says, “I’ve never seen them attack an adult gray whale—this was the first time we saw that.”
Black owns Monterey Bay Whale Watch and is the director of a nonprofit organization in California carrying out research on killer whales. She has studied the species for around 35 years. When she and her team got to the Bay location on March 29, the attack was already underway.
Typically, orcas will prey on smaller calves and can take one down in less than an hour. A mother will try desperately to save her young, often to no avail. This time targeting adults, a lot more power and effort was needed.
Working in groups, the killer whales battered the adult grays, ramming their bellies from underneath while attempting to jump on top of them to drown them and biting their flippers and pectoral fins to keep them under.
“They have different roles,” Black says, “one pulling the pectoral fin, one trying to get on top, and another ramming into the body, so the poor adult gray whale takes quite a beating for many hours.”
In defense, the adult grays attempted to float on the surface belly up to protect their organs from being rammed but they could only do so for a few minutes at a time since they had to roll back to breathe. This meant the orcas, especially the powerful males, could ram them once again from below. They also attempted to use their powerful tail flukes to slap the killer whales, which can be fatal, but the orcas, extremely effective hunters, knew of the tactic and kept out of the way.
As the attack wore on, sonic vocalizations traveling underwater attracted more killer whales who joined the hunt. It was hard to watch, recalls Black, who says that the one tactic the orcas didn’t use was to bite the whales’ tongues, as they do with calves.
“It sounds pretty gruesome,” she says, “but when they’re attacking the calf, they'll often ram its mouth to get inside and bite the tongue, even while it’s still alive, causing a lot of blood loss that contributes to the death of the calf.
“But they didn’t do that for the adults; they couldn’t get into the mouth.”
Even though it’s sad to watch, Black says, such strikes are part of nature; whale meat provides valuable sustenance. The fact that the killer whales were unable to reach the adults’ mouths, though, meant they had a fighting chance.
The attack happened approximately five miles from shore. As Black and her team observed, the gray adults painstakingly kept trying to move east, toward the coast. Being in shallower water was their only hope of escape as that would prevent the preying killer whales from getting underneath them to ram.
The orcas continued doggedly attacking the adults, taking little breaks and circling to rest before coming back to ram some more. Until then, the pair had stayed together for protection but the killer whales succeeded in splitting them up, with one group targeting one and others ramming the other.
During a brief pause in the melee, one of the now heavily-wounded whales seized its chance to escape. Succeeding in getting about two miles from shore, closer than the other, it left the entire group to focus on the whale left behind.
By then, Black says, the sole gray whale looked almost dead: “It was just laying on the surface; it wasn’t even moving. We were willing it to turn over and breathe. Then all of a sudden, at one point it just mustered up enough strength and started swimming.”
Making a beeline for the shore, the battered whale lurched “really fast,“ Black said, adding that ”it didn’t even surface; we could see the fluke prints caused by the tail moving up and down beneath the surface.”
With a burst of energy, traveling at what Black estimates was around eight knots—fast for a gray whale—it covered a couple of miles before finding safety in waters some 150 feet deep. By then, the killer whales gave up and turned westward.
“I think they figured they couldn’t stop it because it was going pretty good speed,” she says.
Black and her team, who regularly conduct research trips—plus daily whale watching in April and May—stayed until the end of the dramatic attack and narrow escape. The marine biologist is sure the whales survived the five-hour-plus ordeal.
“Later that night,” she says, “somebody saw a gray whale in the same area, and it didn’t look like it was moving too much. It was likely to have been recovering, staying still in the shallow water. So far, we haven’t heard any reports of strandings on the beach.”
According to Black, killer whales have an advantage in Monterey Bay due to the geography of the underwater canyon. Its half-moon curvature means that instead of being able to hug the shore for protection, gray whales must enter deep waters to cross it. Orcas will patrol along the canyon, waiting to attack mothers and calves migrating north to Alaska to their feeding areas. Each year, gray whales make the journey from Baja California to Monterey Bay to mate and have their calves in shallower waters, safe from predators.
Come February and March, adult males migrate north and leave the lagoons first. Mothers and calves stay longer, allowing the young more time to nurse and grow bigger, before starting the journey in April and May.
Adult gray whales normally migrate further from the shore, as killer whales typically pose no danger. So why does Black think this time was different?
“Somehow,” she says, “the orcas know when to be in Monterey Bay because they show up every year, more at this time of year when they know the moms and calves could be here. Maybe they were just so anxious to get a calf, to start feeding on a gray whale, that they got overly excited and went for the two adults.”
The orcas spent a lot of time and effort this time, she said. Gray whales are what killer whales eat, and, had the hunt been successful, it would have provided food for the whole pod.
“If it had been a calf, they would easily have gotten it,” she says. “The record for them taking down a gray whale calf is 15 minutes, but it normally takes an hour, on average.”
Nothing came of it this time. The orcas ceded defeat soon after the grays started moving fast. Had it been a mom and her calf, they wouldn’t have given up so easily and instead would have followed them close to shore, relenting only when getting to waters as shallow as 20 feet deep.
As an animal lover, yes, Black is saddened when gray whales fall prey to predators. On the other hand, they provide necessary food for orcas, whose welfare concerns her in equal measure. Like other predators in the animal kingdom, such as lions that hunt antelope and wildebeests in Africa, they have to eat.
Marine researchers can identify individual whales by marks on their dorsal fins. Most of the killer whales in this attack were females, which is normal, as adult female killer whales do most of the hunting typically. An adult male named Liner hunted alongside the pod this time, which is unusual, Black says, as males don’t usually hunt. All were distant family members that traveled many miles upon hearing the call to attack.
The killer whales in this rare encounter are officially called Bigg’s killer whales and they feed solely on marine mammals. According to Black, as gray whales are currently not getting enough food in the Arctic, their numbers have decreased. Orcas only feed on gray whale calves during springtime; if they can’t source enough, they will turn to hunting seals, sea lions, dolphins, and porpoises.
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