Superpod: Saving the Endangered Orcas of the Pacific Northwest

By Nora Nickum

*Junior Library Guild Gold Standard Selection
* Pacific Northwest Booksellers Association (PNBA) Bestseller - Early & Middle Reader

Meet the playful and beloved Southern Resident orcas and the people working to save them from extinction using tactics that vary from medicine and laws to drones and dogs

The endangered Southern Resident orcas whistle and click their way around the waters of the Pacific Northwest in three small family groups while facing boat noise, pollution, and scarce food. Superpod introduces young readers to the experts who are training scat-sniffing dogs, inventing ways to treat sick orcas, quieting the waters, studying whales from the air, and speaking out. Author Nora Nickum also discusses her own work on laws to protect the orcas, tackles the dark history of orca capture for marine parks, and shares moments of wonder.

Readers can dive in to help save these majestic orcas with diverse action ideas and to find inspiration for a wide range of future careers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chicago Review Press
• Release date: Apr 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9781641607957

Book preview

Tahlequah:

17 Days and 1,000 Miles

In late July 2018, an orca named Tahlequah, age 20, gave birth. Calves are born tail-first because their tails and fins are floppy when they’re in their mother’s uterus. Coming out tail-first allows the cold ocean water to harden the fin, so the calf can swim to the surface and take a first breath.

But Tahlequah’s baby didn’t get to take many breaths. It is believed to have lived only 30 minutes at most. We’ll never know exactly why it died.

Tahlequah, who scientists also refer to as J35, had one son already, eight-year-old Notch (J47). It’s possible she’d had and lost other calves in the years since Notch was born, though researchers hadn’t seen any. By the summer of 2018, three full years had passed without any of the Southern Residents having a successful birth and a calf that survived.

Tahlequah didn’t let this new baby go. She balanced it on her head, pushing it up to the surface as if to help it breathe again. Sometimes she carried it in her mouth or on her back. When the calf’s body slid off her head and began to sink, Tahlequah dove down to get it back.

People had seen mother orcas carrying dead calves in the past, but only for a few hours or a few days. Tahlequah far exceeded that. Day after day, the local news reported that Tahlequah still had the calf. Researchers surmised she was mourning, that it was emotionally hard for her to accept her baby was gone.

Pushing the 400-pound baby with her head was tough work. Tahlequah breathed heavily and fell behind her family as they swam. Focused on her calf, she didn’t have the time or energy to catch salmon to eat. People began to worry she would die too.

At the time, I was taking a weeklong marine naturalist class at the Whale Museum on San Juan Island. The class was filled with people who loved orcas. They had traveled from South Dakota, Minnesota, Iowa, and even Denmark to learn all about these whales and try to catch a glimpse. As the seats filled up on the first day of class, I spotted tiny silver orcas dangling from the ears of a fellow student. Another young woman had an orca tattooed across her lower leg. A third person wore a brightly colored shirt with a repeating orca pattern. I later learned she had hand-sewn a different orca shirt to wear on each day of class.

The Whale Museum’s director, Jenny Atkinson, stopped by each morning to give us updates on Tahlequah. Jenny looked exhausted and heartbroken. From sunrise to sunset, she was getting phone calls from reporters and was supporting her colleagues who were out on a boat making sure Tahlequah and her family had the space they needed to honor the calf.

You can imagine her joy at meeting it, and then her reluctance to let go, Jenny told me later. Maybe she was saying to her family, ‘This baby is part of us, and I want to show our baby where we live—as much as I can, for as long as I can.’ But we were trying to help the world understand what none of us really understood.

As the days wore on, Tahlequah brought the plight of the endangered orcas to the attention of people around the globe. There were articles and updates on television and in newspapers and magazines across the country, as well as in Canada and the United Kingdom. People felt it deeply. They posted on social media, wrote poems, made art inspired by Tahlequah, and stayed glued to the news.

A few times, Tahlequah was seen without her calf, and researchers thought she had finally let it go. Later, they saw she had it again. Perhaps her family members were taking turns carrying it for her, or maybe she dove to get it after it drifted down.

Then, on the 17th day, Tahlequah finally released the calf. She had carried its body through Pacific Northwest waters for more than 1,000 miles (1,600 km). Tahlequah may have felt ready to say goodbye. Or she may have had no choice.

She carried it until it literally fell apart, Jenny said when we talked. She took a shaky breath and grabbed a tissue. I knew Jenny to be tough as a barnacle, but I also knew that all of us working to protect these orcas cared about them in a very deep and personal way. It decomposed so much she couldn’t carry it anymore, she continued.

Tahlequah was seen chasing salmon shortly after letting her calf go. Researchers were relieved she hadn’t been too weakened by the prior 17 days. She could get strong again, both physically and emotionally, and hopefully live to have another calf.

Mother orcas may only have one baby every several years, typically starting around age 14 or 15. Each pregnancy lasts 16 to 18 months. While Tahlequah’s journey of grief seemed unprecedented, at least in terms of what humans have witnessed, her calf’s fate unfortunately was all too common. An orca can live as long as us humans, if given the chance. But half of all Southern Resident calves die before they’re even born or before their first birthday.

Why is that?

One problem is pollution in the environment. These orcas spend a lot of time near cities and industrialized areas like Seattle and Vancouver, British Columbia, where the waters are especially dirty. Toxic chemicals get into the smallest animals in the ocean. As larger animals eat those chemical-laden small animals, over time the toxic chemicals accumulate in their systems in harmful amounts. Orcas, as the biggest predators, have bodies chock-full of these chemicals; the chemicals weaken their immune systems, making it harder to recover from being sick. The chemicals also get passed from orca moms to their calves.

But the main reason is Southern Residents are not getting enough food. If an orca can’t eat enough during the long pregnancy to support herself and a healthy baby, her body may have to let the fetus go.

Phoenix swims alongside his mom, Tahlequah. Danielle Carter

Tahlequah’s journey was tragic. But two years later, in September 2020, there was good news: Tahlequah had a new baby, swimming and rolling playfully alongside her. He was named Phoenix (J57), after the mythical bird that rose from the ashes—a name reflecting renewed hope for the Southern Residents.

What’s in a Name?

Astraight dorsal fin, about six feet tall, rises from the water. As 30-year-old Blackberry (J27) emerges, the white swoosh on his back is briefly visible. His distinctive white saddle patch—the pattern on an orca’s back behind the dorsal fin—had a branch like a hooked finger. It made Blackberry one of the first Southern Residents I learned to