Derek Nielsen Photography

In 2021, I was introduced to a subspecies of animal I never knew existed, the Southern Resident Killer Whale. As a nature and wildlife photographer focusing on conservation issues, I thought I was roughly aware of all the major critical situations globally. However, Tracy and Skyler Strandness of Barefoot Eco Outfitters shared with me the situation unfolding in the Pacific Northwest marine ecosystem and the Southern Resident Killer Whales. Being from Chicago, I had no connection to the Salish Sea. I didn’t even know it existed nor what the Southern Residents were. This didn’t stop me from caring. 

Shortly after my conversation with Tracy and Skyler, I began to research deeper into the situation. Right here in America’s backyard, one of the most intelligent species on earth is going extinct. How is this even possible? 

I reached out to a friend of mine, Joseph Pelegreen (director), about helping shoot a full feature documentary, knowing that the story needed to be larger than just a photojournalism story. We needed to wake the world up to what we are at risk of losing forever. Joseph, Kalilah Robinson (our director of photography), and I headed out to the region to begin shooting a proof of concept in regards to the full story and one even more in depth. 

We spent almost two months in the region looking for Southern Residents, only to come up empty. During this time we learned so much about the core issues involving these whales, Indigenous communities’ relationships to the whales, and what the science is telling us about their fight to survive. To be honest, the entire experience was pretty overwhelming. Regardless, we returned to the region this summer with a full film crew to film the rest of the content needed to truly do this story justice. 

So who are the Southern Resident Killer Whales? 

The Southern Resident Killer Whales are a resident community of orca made up of three distinct pods: J, K, and L. They are found in the inner coastal waters from Northern California up into Southwest Canada, patrolling the major river mouths for food. These waters consist of the Puget Sound, the area around the San Juan Islands, and the Georgia Straight. As of the most recent survey, there are only 73 left in the wild. This is down from 97 individuals counted in 1996. These three distinct pods travel for food, play, and socialize, centralized around the eldest matriarchs.  “Both male and female offspring remain near their mothers throughout their lives. No other mammal known to science maintains lifetime contact between mothers and offspring of both genders.” – OrcaNetwork 

How are they different?

Southern Resident Orca are among the most highly social marine mammals on earth. Their unique language allows them to communicate with one another through family-specific dialects. Over millions of years of evolution these pods decided not to compete with other orca types for food and to focus primarily on salmon, as it makes up 80-90% of their diet. 

A remarkable culture emerges when you look at how their unique language shapes their feeding patterns, mating habits, and overall group cohesion. A culture with individual characters, friendships, and bonds.

Until recently, salmon were plentiful in the region in the millions. However, due to human-caused environmental impacts of supporting 13 million people in the region, up from an estimated 200,000 Indigenous people for thousands of years, the salmon population has plummeted. Industrial overfishing, pollution, and increased boat traffic are all at unsustainable levels. Those causes, combined with dams that block the replenishment of this species, have created a disastrous situation.

 

Why do they matter?

I have asked myself this question on more than one occasion. The answer always circles back around to an obvious three words in my mind: “They just do.” To me, it’s like trying to explain to someone why I matter or why they matter. It is this planet’s biodiversity that makes it so fun to live here—the nearly endless varieties of creatures to learn about. One of my favorite lines of all time around this topic comes from Wade Davis – Most people would likely choose to live in a “polychromatic world of diversity” rather than a “monochromatic world of monotony,” as diversity offers a richer experience with a wider range of perspectives, ideas, and cultures, while monotony implies a lack of stimulation and variety.

Ecologically these apex predators actually play a significant role in the overall health of our earth’s ecosystems, too. They prevent overgrazing by animals down the food chain while their excrement nourishes creatures at the base of the food chain we have grown to depend on. 

The Southern Resident Killer Whale that continues to break my heart. 

On September 14, 2024, after months of waiting to finally see a Southern Resident, our team got a call from our research partners that a new calf was born to mother L90. Sometime the night before, members of all three pods could be heard on the hydrophone at Lime Kiln Lighthouse. Listen to them here, vocalizing like crazy.  Obviously, we have no idea what they are saying, but it seems like a strange coincidence that all three pods came in from possibly a thousand miles away collectively to meet here the day a new baby orca was born. 

This same strange occurrence happened the day before a famous member of the Southern Resident family, Lolita, also called Tokitae, died. She was a captive female orca taken from her family in the Puget Sound. Then, forced to perform for people at the Miami Seaquarium in Florida for decades in isolation. The day before she died on August 18, 2023, all three pods gathered off Lime Kiln Lighthouse. Were they greeting her? Were they mourning her loss? How could they even know, or did they? We are incapable of understanding, but here is the footage from that day. Footage from August 17, 2023. 

This stretch of ocean along the west coast of San Juan Island was a historic hunting and meeting ground for these orcas. In an interview with Dr. Deborah Giles, she spoke of watching the Southern Residents for hours along this stretch daily, only as far back as the 1990s. Now, they are seldom seen here. They gather for these large social gatherings and continue returning to forage for food. 

My first encounter with the Southern Residents.

After getting the call that the Residents were in the area, our team rushed out to the last known location on the west side, San Juan County Park. One carload from our team was already on-location filming. It was L90 and her day-old baby, L128. At the time, they were pretty far offshore, but you could still see them with the naked eye. 

I added an extender to my telephoto lens to get a better look, and sure enough, there they were! As orca encounters go, this one was way below average, but it was my first confirmed sighting of a Southern Resident. I didn’t expect it but my first sighting was quite emotional. It’s almost like seeing your favorite celebrity. I can only describe it as uncontrollable joy. 

Something felt immediately wrong about the whole situation. Just beyond this mother with her infant baby was a massive tanker (Yannis Pittas) plowing ahead. Across its bow, a signature tidal wave of water was displaced, showing this tanker had no plans to shut off its engines until they cleared the area or even slowing down. 

Cargo vessels emit around 190 decibels of noise. That is actually louder than a jet engine at takeoff. Not only that, but noise travels four times faster in water, meaning the sound is felt and heard exceptionally far. At that moment, I could only imagine what that poor mother was feeling and, even worse, her infant baby. I watched them vanish out of sight, and I left conflicted about the whole situation. Could you imagine placing your infant baby unprotected next to a jet engine at takeoff? The stress would be unbearable. 

Seeing mom and baby once again.

A little later that day, our team was notified once again that L90 and L128 were heading along the west end of San Juan Island. Their direction was south, so we set up our cameras ahead of them, hoping they would continue with the course. Knowing how quickly the whole experience was likely to pass, I didn’t want to miss the shot, so I ran through all my camera settings in my head, waiting for them to approach. 

Then it happened. I first spotted moms blowing mist on the horizon. They were coming straight for us. I locked in on their position and trajectory. Then, as if time went into slow motion, I saw L128 come out of the water next to Mom. Its shiny black mellon (head dome) peaking out of the water. Eye patches stained slightly brown. Scientists believe this is caused by blood vessels close to the skin as its blubber has yet to form. 

The porpoise happened so fast. The movement was so cute and pathetic next to its large mother but appropriate for such a small newborn whale. She passed only a few dozen yards from shore with the infant to her outside. I managed to get a few more shots of her, and they headed back out to sea. I will never forget that experience. 

Our team high-fived each other while others hugged and shouted in excitement. The experience visibly emotionally moved several onlookers. I felt such a wave of emotions, from pure joy to awe to relief. We had finally captured some excellent footage of Southern Resident Killer Whales and it happened to be a new mother with her day-old calf. I nailed the best shots I could, and the celebrations were on. 

Now, the heartbreaking news: Baby L128 most likely won’t make it. 

 On October 6, 2024, field biologist Mark Malleson spotted L128 with another member of L Pod L83 while its mother, L90, was off foraging for food. The new calf looked emaciated and weak. Even more heartbreaking is when L83 swam towards the researcher’s boat with L128 across her nose.

“As she carried the calf down the side of the boat, Mark’s heart sank — he was certain the calf had stopped breathing,” the statement reads. “L83 jiggled the calf, as if desperately trying to revive it. As she continued past the stern of (the boat), Mark thought he saw the calf take a faint breath and return to her side.” – Kaija Jussinoja, CTVNewsVancouver.ca Reporter

Reading this encounter rips my heart into pieces. To go from such happiness, excitement, and joy to reading this. All I can think about is how we failed L128 and the Southern Residents once again. This encounter is reminiscent of when Tahlequah carried her dead calf for weeks, unable to part with it—agonizing heartbreak. 

The truth behind the decline of the Southern Resident Killer Whales.

Unfortunately, we may never know what killed L128, but it is hard not to speculate. The three main reasons Southern Resident Killer Whales struggle to survive are lack of food, stress from boat traffic, and toxicants in the ecosystem—all issues humans caused. Two of the three observed in L128’s short life, and it would surprise me to find out the poor thing was also full of chemicals. Tankers and other boats blasting through their waters while the mother struggled to find food. We are their only problem, but thankfully, there is still time to help. We can do something about it!

What can we do to help the Southern Resident Killer Whales?

The first step we can take to help the Southern Residents is to make our voices known. We need to speak out on their behalf and let the world know what is happening to them. Tell their stories. The Center For Whale Research suggests, “Speak up in support of hydroelectric dam removal, particularly championing the removal of the four lower Snake River dams.” By removing these four dams, we could free up hundreds of miles of essential traditional salmon habitat, rehabilitating a critical food source for the whales, the Indigenous communities, and the Pacific Northwest ecosystem as a whole. 

Again, I’ll use the eloquent words of Wade Davis to close out this article – “We will be known as an era in which we stood by and either actively endorsed or passively accepted the massive destruction of both biological and cultural diversity on the planet.” 

Not a single person I know or have met would be good with standing by watching the destruction of something so beautiful when there is a simple and easy alternative. Please take action before it’s too late. Scientists have coined the term Bright Extinction to explain what is happening to the Southern Resident Killer Whales. In contrast to the term “Dark Extinction,” where little is known about the animals we have insufficient data on, Bright Extinction refers to the gradual disappearance of a species we know much about. We know about every individual in the population, their matriarchial lines, what they eat, when they’re pregnant, and worst of all, what is causing their extinction. 

SRKW film and continuing to bring awareness.

For more information, follow SRKWfilm on Instagram and stay tuned for the release of our film, which will cover the sensitive topics discussed in this article in more depth. I can’t help but look back at the photo of L128 alongside its mother, L90, and wish things would have turned out differently. We can’t bring it back to life or the lives of all the other Southern Residents we have lost, but if you feel even an ounce of compassion for them, don’t look away.

Gallery of fine art photographs taken in the Pacific Northwest

Below is a collection of fine art images taken in the Pacific Northwest while working on this film. I am adding them to this story to give people a better understanding of the immense beauty of this place. These images hopefully will make you want to visit, fall in love, and become an ambassador, as many of us have. This Pacific Northwest is beautiful. It needs our voices and our help.