Communicating with Orcas: The Whales' Perspective

By Mary J Getten

Communicating with Orcas is the true story of an amazing journey by two curious and dedicated women into the unknown world of whales. Mary J. Getten, respected whale naturalist and professional animal communicator, and her colleague, Raphaela Pope, take the reader on a unique voyage of discovery about these fascinating creatures of the sea. Together they use their telepathic skills and communication abilities to interview and converse with wild and captive orcas.
This is a book like no other. It unlocks the many mysteries of orca life and death. It is a moving description of a close family group in which all members travel, work, eat, play, and even sleep together. Most of all, it takes you inside their world, allowing you to see things from their perspective and to understand another way of life--the orca way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary J Getten
• Release date: Aug 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310957826

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Communicating with Orcas: The Whales’ Perspective

by Mary J Getten www.Marygetten.com

Copyright © 2014 Mary J. Getten

Smashwords Edition

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this ebook, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

This book is also available in print from the author and online retailers.

Excerpt reprinted with permission of the publisher from Killer Whales by John K. B. Ford, Kenneth C. Balcomb, and Graeme M. Ellis. © University of British Columbia Press 1995. All rights reserved by the publisher.

Excerpt reprinted with permission. Hoyt, E. 1992. The Performing Orca: Why the Show Must Stop. Whale and Dolphin Conservation Society, Bath, UK, pp. i to ix, 1 to 104.

Excerpts from Whale Tales © Whale Tales Press, Friday Harbor, WA. Used by permission.

Cover design by Frame25 Productions Cover art by Glenn R. McGloughlin through Shutterstock.com

Praise for Communicating with Orcas: The Whales’ Perspective -

Mary Getten weaves a story of deep communication and understanding between humans and orcas. Her work shakes cultural concepts of evolution and awareness in animals, including humans, and imparts fascinating information directly from the orcas themselves.

—Penelope Smith, founding animal communication specialist, author of Animal Talk and When Animals Speak, editor of Species Link magazine

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book could not have been written without the cooperation and insight of many whales. I am thankful for each orca’s contribution and acknowledge the immeasurable joy that the wild and captive whales give to millions of people each year.

My deepest gratitude goes to Granny, the leader of J pod, who graciously took me into her world and answered all my questions. This is really her book. She was the inspiration and a co-author in every sense. Granny’s generous gifts of time, information, patience and love created this work. I am also thankful to Ruffles for his help and support.

I would like to express my love and appreciation to Raphaela Pope for joining me in this adventure. Her participation gave me the courage to continue these interviews and established a friendship that I will cherish always. I am grateful to Elizabeth Morrison and George Denniston, who coached, encouraged and edited this material during its evolution. Their support kept me going, along with my many friends (you know who you are) who commented on material and pushed me to continue. Thanks also to Ashley Anderson and Natalie Herner for the use of their photos and to Hampton Roads for publishing the second paperback edition.

My heartfelt appreciation goes to Penelope Smith, Jeri Ryan, Carol Gurney, Beatrice Lydecker and all the animal communicators who blazed the way for my colleagues and me. They opened hearts to the truth about animals and built the road to acceptance that we are now able to walk.

And finally, a special thanks to Jane Goodall, who inspired me to pursue whatever I want in life regardless of the protocol or what the world thinks. She dissolved the walls that had kept women out of careers in science and research, and became a shining example for generations of women. Thank you, Jane.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

WHALES 101

WHEN MARY MET GRANNY

MEETING OF THE MINDS

DIFFICULTY AT THE BEGINNING

LET’S GET PHYSICAL

FAST FOOD

SEX AND THE SINGLE WHALE

PILLOW TALK

ALL IN THE FAMILY

FRIEND OR FOE

TRANSIENTS, OH MY!

WATCHING THE GRAYS

ORCAS AND HUMANS

OUT OF THEIR ELEMENT

SAINTS IN TANKS

YAKA, VIGGA, AND KEIKO

FROM HERE TO ETERNITY

SPIRITUALITY AND CONSCIOUSNESS

POSTSCRIPT

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

INTRODUCTION

Everything in this book is true—the names, the places, the events, the people, the whales, and their words. The whale communication sessions were tape-recorded and meticulously transcribed word by word. Each incident on the water is an actual event that I experienced. I have taken some liberties with the order of these conversations, and who said what to whom, but the words remain intact. Truth is important to me, so I have done everything possible to be accurate.

The truth is that all animals are intelligent, spiritual, emotional, thinking beings. Our ancestors knew this, and we are rediscovering their knowledge. As we look at animals with a different perspective, we ponder their inner lives. What do they think about? Do they have hopes and dreams? Are we driving them mad or making them sick?

When I was in school, I dreamed of living in the jungle and assisting Jane Goodall in her chimpanzee studies. I devoured each new story in the National Geographic and savored it again and again. I wanted to dive deeply into the lives of wild animals and understand them from the inside out.

My life took another path and I never made it to the Gombe, but eventually my love for wild animals was rekindled—not with jungle animals, but with the creatures of the sea. After working for four years with seals and sea lions in a California rehabilitation center, I moved to Washington State and began leading whale-watch trips in the San Juan Islands.

Lucky me. I spent thousands of hours in the company of wild orcas—killer whales. I saw them hunt, travel, sleep, play, and romance. I interpreted their behavior for passengers on whale-watch cruises but was frustrated with our limited knowledge of these fantastic creatures. The literature was sadly lacking.

Researchers have studied orcas since 1970, but most of our questions are still unanswered. What do they think of us? Is pollution harming them? Why do whales beach? Who fathers the calves? Where do they go in the winter? The list is endless. Orcas spend only 5 percent of their time at the surface, where we can see them. What are they doing the other 95 percent?

Fortunately, I had taken my first class in telepathic animal communication in 1988. I knew that animals could speak to us, and once I started communicating with whales, there was no turning back. I now had the ability to do research with whales that required no equipment, grants, permits, degrees, or facilities. I could ask the whales anything, about any facet of their lives. My only limitation was knowing what to ask.

In 1996, I enlisted the help of another animal communicator to investigate the lives of orcas from their perspective. Raphaela Pope didn’t know a thing about whales and wouldn’t be influenced by her personal beliefs or knowledge of them, but she was a good telepathic animal communicator. She had spent years talking to people and their pets, helping them understand each other better. Once she encountered my orca friends, she too was intrigued by the secrets they held. Through telepathic interviews we were able to better understand these magnificent beings. Together, we set out to learn about orcas—from their perspective.

Raphaela and I spent more than a year interviewing whales— wild and captive orcas. This is the story of that adventure: two women who dove deeply into the sea and met Granny, the matriarch and leader of J pod, a group of orcas that frequent the waters of Washington. Granny opens up her world and answers all of our questions with style and humor; so does Ruffles, Granny’s son and the oldest male in the community; and so do four captive whales who tell us about life in a tank.

To truly understand orcas, or any species, we must talk to them directly. Through observation and traditional research, we can make assumptions, but they are just that. Like humans, each whale is an individual, and what is true for one is not true for all.

Understanding orcas is an endless process, and our project is just the beginning. It became an incredible journey of insights and surprises. Some days it was hard to believe we were actually talking to whales, probing the depths of their knowledge and investigating their emotions. The rest of my life seemed so normal. Other days, well…..

WHALES 101

As I drove into the little town of Friday Harbor, delicious, cool morning air blew through the open windows of my car. Here on San Juan Island, in the pristine waters of the Pacific Northwest, even the hottest summer day is fresh and invigorating. Today, a few clouds drifted across a clear blue sky, and Mount Baker, snow covered and majestic, glowed in the morning sunshine.

It’s going to be a fine day on the water, I thought. It was July 2, 1997, a year after Raphaela and I had begun our orca communication project, and the tourist season was in full swing. Friday Harbor, the largest town in the San Juan archipelago, is the center for whale-watching, whale research, and whale mania.

I glanced across at Shaw and Brown Islands above the hundreds of masts, fishing vessels, and whale-watching boats moored at the Friday Harbor Marina. The eight o’clock ferry from Anacortes on the Washington mainland was just arriving, late as usual, I noted. I hurried down the main dock to the Western Prince.

Mary on the Western Prince

Dew still clung to the railing as I stepped aboard. The captain, Bob Van Leuven, was washing the windows and getting the 47-foot cruiser ready for our trip. He moved easily around her white-and-turquoise deck, his blonde hair shining in the early morning sun. This was his twelfth year as her owner and operator, and my seventh year as her naturalist. Whale-watching was a passion for Bob, as it was for me. Neither Bob nor I had ever missed a day or a cruise.

The smell of fresh-perked coffee floated out of the galley. I stuffed my lunch into the little fridge and headed for the wheelhouse, where I filled in the log and adjusted my binoculars. As "Queen of the Western Prince," I loved informing and educating passengers about the area and the wildlife we encountered. There were many exciting and remarkable creatures here, but most people came for one thing only—whales. These weren’t just any whales. They were killer whales, and the orcas of the San Juan Islands are among the best-known and most loved creatures in the entire world.

This morning, instead of the usual collection of tourists, we were taking out a charter group, students from John Carroll University in Cleveland, Ohio. I liked school charters, especially groups with a fairly good knowledge of whales. They asked interesting questions. Their professor, Mark Bodamer, was an old friend of mine. His students had all read my book The Orca Pocket Guide, so my talk would have to be a bit more creative than usual. They already knew the basics of orca life.

I went out to the railing as my group thundered down the dock. They looked like bright, curious kids—my favorite kind. Mark appeared from the crowd wearing a huge grin. Mary, it’s great to see you, he called. Are we going to have whales today?

There it was, the eternal question—the same question I’ve been asked hundreds of times each week for the past seven years. I sure hope so, I replied brightly. I knew from the Western Prince’s excellent whale-spotting network there were definitely whales in the area, but I’ve learned never to make promises.

I went on, It looks like we have a pretty good chance right now, but then you never know about these guys. They can take off without warning, so I never say for sure until I see the whites of their eye patches. Two of the girls giggled and rolled their eyes. So much for my repartee.

The students climbed aboard and we shoved off. It was truly a glorious day. The sun reflected brightly off the smooth water and there was barely a ripple on the surface. I got on the loudspeaker. "Good morning, everyone. I’d like to welcome you aboard the 'Western Prince. My name is Mary, and I’ll be your naturalist today."

I continued with information about the life vests, snacks, binoculars, and most importantly the bathroom. I told them that I would give them as much information as I could about the various wildlife we encountered. Before I even finished the general information, I spotted a bald eagle sitting low in a tree near the shoreline. She was beautiful, and we stopped to talk about her and get a closer look.

As soon as we left the eagle, several students made their way to the wheelhouse. They were bubbling with excitement and couldn’t wait to tell me what they had done the night before. Early in the evening, they had attended a presentation on orcas given by Peter Fromm, local author of a book called Whale Tales. The students had fallen into conversation with Peter afterwards and had mentioned that they were going whale-watching with me the next day.

Peter and I have known each other for years. When we first met, I was working in the research department of The Whale Museum in Friday Harbor, helping researchers study the orcas of the San Juan Islands. He told the students that I had developed an unusual skill—the ability to communicate telepathically with animals. I was supplementing my scientific knowledge of whales by talking to them directly. He let them know about my relationship with Granny, who was one of the whales we would be looking for today. Unfortunately, he had given me quite a billing to live up to!

I wondered about the students’ reaction. There are people to whom animal communication seems absolutely normal, and others who find it so far out they can scarcely believe I am serious. Where would these students fall?

Sally, a slim blonde from Kansas, told me that she was very excited about the possibility of communicating with orcas. Though she had never seen a whale, she had felt an indescribable bond with the farm animals she knew as a child and was certain that they understood her.

She told me that immediately after Peter’s presentation, she had organized about a dozen students to try to communicate with the whales. They decided to attempt it near the water, so they walked down to the dock in the dark. When they reached the end of the dock, they gathered in a circle and sat down. Hands held high, palms facing forward, they quieted themselves and sent energy into the center of the circle.

When their force field was almost visible, a student named Brian began his appeal to the whales. Orcas of this area, please hear our call. We are students from Ohio who have traveled far to see you. We have great respect for you and sincerely hope that you will show yourselves to us tomorrow.

Brian now told me that he was a bit skeptical about the possibility of telepathic communication but felt it was worth a try anyway. He was fascinated with whales. The previous winter in Hawaii he had had a very striking encounter while on a whale- watch trip. A huge humpback had breached right next to his boat, and he had looked straight into its mammoth eye before the creature crashed back into the sea. The consciousness that had stared back at him was unquestionable and compelling.

Next, Barbara, a sweet girl with a Southern drawl, had spoken. We have only love for you and wish you no harm. Please show us something of your lives so that we may understand you better. Each student took a turn, speaking his truth to the whales with respect and love. Most of them had never seen a whale in the wild, although many had experienced cetaceans in marine parks.

When everyone had spoken, they held hands in silence and sent rays of love to the orcas. Silently they had made their way back to their rooms and drifted off to sleep, each one hoping that the message had been received.

By the time the students finished their story, the hair was standing up on the back of my neck. I had goose bumps everywhere and my hands automatically crossed over my heart. I was filled with joy that these students had made such a sincere and heartfelt effort to communicate with the whales. Now they were here, ready to meet the whales in person.

You’ve done very well, I told them. I’m sure the whales got your message. They are very receptive to our thoughts, particularly when they are sent with such love and reverence. If they are able to come meet you today, I’m sure they will.

Why couldn’t they come? asked Brian.

Well, it depends on what they are doing. Orcas spend most of their time either traveling and looking for food or eating. When they find fish, they feed until they are full. If the whales are somewhere else feeding today, they may simply not be able to appear. I recalled the first time I had asked Granny if she could arrange to meet the Western Prince on a certain day. She had replied, We don’t make decisions like that. I can’t tell you where we’ll be on a given day. We are part of nature’s flow and balance. If there are fish present, we may be there. We do not plan ahead. We live in the moment.

By this time there were eight students crammed into the wheelhouse, all full of questions about how I communicate with whales and what they have to say. Melissa asked if I had always been able to communicate with animals.

Yes and no, I told her. Telepathic communication is a natural skill that we all have, but like most people I had forgotten it. Fortunately there are some great teachers who can help. I started studying animal communication in 1988, so I’ve been working at it for some time.

How do you actually do it? Do you hear words or what? she pressed. Melissa told me that she had an old dog back home in Chicago. She was sensitive to his needs and usually understood what he wanted, but she also wanted to tell him how much he meant to her before it was too late. She wondered if she could learn how to communicate with him.

First, you must get really quiet and centered inside. I find a deep place within me where everything is silent. Then I mentally call out to the animal, and most of the time I get an answer. Sometimes I hear words, but at other times I may see pictures. Often a feeling or knowing comes to me in answer to a question. Once in a while, I get bodily sensations. One time, Ruffles, an adult male orca, showed me what it was like to eat a fish.

That’s really wild. I wish I could talk to whales, she said.

I explained to Melissa that this innate ability lies dormant in all of us. If you want to develop your telepathic communication skills, the best place to start is with a good teacher who will show you techniques for quieting your mind and provide practice and validating experiences to get you started. Learning telepathic communication is a little like studying a foreign language. You can do it, but it takes time to develop your abilities.

Wayne from Texas spoke up. Last night, Peter said you are particularly close to a whale named Granny. What do you talk to her about?

"We talk about anything and everything. I’m trying to get a complete picture of Granny’s life. I’ve known her for seven years now. She is the leader of J pod and a very old and wise whale. I’ve found that Granny has a unique perspective and really wants to share her thoughts with all of us.

"I spend hundreds of hours with these orcas every summer and see remarkable things, but most of their world is hidden from us. We really know so little about them. I wanted to ask Granny directly about her life and especially about those things we cannot study, like her feelings. Does she have hopes and dreams? How does she feel about us? Is she angry about the captures and the killing?

"I’m also really concerned about her environment. Is there enough food? How are the contaminants we pour into the water affecting her? My list of questions is endless.

I am working on this project with a friend who has been a professional animal communicator for many years and even teaches classes on how to communicate with animals. We have asked Granny and some other orcas everything we can think of about their lives. Hopefully, we’ve asked the right questions. It’s tricky to know what to ask an individual who lives in such a foreign land.

Wayne’s forehead wrinkled. I never thought of it that way. Do you talk to the whales on your trips and ask them to come over to the boat?

That’s an interesting question, and one that’s been difficult for me. These whales are my friends. I love to see and talk to them, but I don’t take advantage of our friendship. So the answer is no. When I’m on the water, I’m here to educate people about the whales. Sometimes Granny and her pod cruise over to say hi, but it’s her decision.

Brian wanted to know if the whale-watch boats bother the orcas. That was probably one of the first questions I had asked Granny, and I knew her reply by heart. She has told me that the love and reverence that come to her from the people on the whale boats is a joy to receive. She doesn’t really like the noise, but she’s adjusted to it.

About an hour out of port, we spotted some whales. It was only ten o’clock and already 15 boats were escorting them north in Haro Strait, between Vancouver Island and the San Juans. There were several Canadian inflatables jammed with tourists, three boats from Friday Harbor, a passenger ferry from Seattle carrying more than 200 people, and six kayaks.

It was almost the Fourth of July, the busiest boating weekend of the summer, when the whales are a primary focus. By this afternoon it would be a madhouse out here with close to 100 boats around the whales. I shuddered thinking of the afternoon trip yet to come, but I had whales ahead and needed to identify them.

There are approximately 90 resident orcas that frequent the waters of Washington and southern British Columbia. They live in family groups known as J, K, and L pods. I wanted to find out which pod was here this morning so I could talk about various individuals and habits. I watched intently with my binoculars trying to get a good look at the large male near the front of the group.

Males are easier to identify because their dorsal fins, which are twice the size of females’, often have distinctive characteristics. The water was still calm, but the boats were causing a lot of wakes, and I was having trouble seeing the big male’s saddle patch, the grayish-white area on the body right behind the dorsal fin. Many patches have a unique pattern that identifies an individual. Some whales have distinctive nicks or cuts in their fins. At times you need to see both the fin and the patch to make a positive identification. That was the case this morning.

I could see three males and about ten females and subadults, but I didn’t know how many more whales were behind or ahead of this group. It looked like part of L pod, the largest family, but I would have to positively identify an individual to be sure. I focused my binoculars on the large male. He had a big nick in the back edge of his dorsal fin about halfway down. This was definitely an L pod whale, but I couldn’t tell if it was Dylan or Mega. They both have a big nick, so I would have to see the saddle patch to be certain.

Scanning the water, I saw the tip of his dorsal fin again breaking the surface. I focused my binoculars, and just before the patch appeared, a boat blocked my view. Damn, I missed him. The sleek black figure slid out of sight. I hoped he would come up again soon. Traveling orcas in this area tend to surface and breathe three to five times in succession and then stay down for about three minutes before the sequence starts again. Now he was on the other side of the passenger ferry from Seattle.

Five seconds passed, ten, 15, and I knew he was down. Swiftly I scanned the surface for another whale. There was a male over by a Canadian whale-watch boat. A quick look at the bulbous dorsal fin told me it was Leo. I spoke into the mike: The large male over by the black inflatable is L44, known as Leo. He was born in 1974 and is a mature adult. This group of whales we are watching is part of the L12 subpod, an extended family of about 17 whales. I don’t know yet if they are all here, but I’ll tell you about as many of them as possible.

Leo’s mom, Olympia, was a few yards away from him with his sister Spirit and her two calves. We had three generations in tight formation. I love encountering a family traveling close together. It gives me an opportunity to explain about orcas’ tight social structure while I point out differences in sexes and sizes.

I talked about this group as long as we were in a good viewing position. That turned out to be about ten minutes. Six or seven more boats had joined the flotilla