Tokitae & the last of the Southern Resident Killer Whales

The last 24 hours have been profound. They have been happy, they have been sad, and they have
been angry.

In the 1960’s – 1980’s around 80 members of the Southern Resident killer whales were ripped away
from their families. They were forced into marine parks around the globe, to perform tricks, to be
breeders, to be captives.

One by one these orcas have passed away from stress, disease, and even heartbreak.

Tokitae (also known as Lolita) was a member of L pod. She was taken from her family at around 4
years of age and has spent the past 50 years in captivity. She was the last of these whales left and
today on the 18th of August 2023 she died.

I’m sure she inspired generations of people with her charisma and her beauty, I’m also sure she
created marine biologists and animal rights activists just from her existence. She as an individual has
done countless good for her kind.But this should not have been her sacrifice and this should not have
been her burden to bear.

It seemed recently that there could be a change in her circumstances, there was talk of release, there
was talk of freedom. Preparations were being made for Tokitae to be released. First into a sea pen off
the San Juan islands where her family regularly passes through, and then perhaps properly into the
Salish Sea with her family.

Yesterday, as if they knew what was happening, the 3 pods of the Southern Residents (J, K, & L) came
together to form a super pod. Around 50 of them made their closest pass to Victoria for years.

Multiple friends were texting me that they could see orcas from shore. All of those friends ranging
from marine biologists, to finance analysts,were telling me that they were crying. All kinds of people
were taken with emotion at this incredible sight.

I was personally at sea during this moment and myself and my colleagues were given a great honour
due to the positioning of the orcas. For the first time in a long time whale watching boats heading to
the harbour were allowed to slowly cross paths with the Southern Residents. Fisheries officers were
on scene making everything legal and therefore we were able to sit and enjoy them in all their
wonder. It was unbelievable.

I don’t know if it was how special and unexpected the moment was, how close they decided to pass
us or just the sheer charisma of these animals but it was one of the highlights of my career so far.
This season alone I have seen a two-week-old Bigg’s killer whale, I’ve seen multiple humpbacks
breaching in unison, whales hunting whales and a whole range of feeding techniques amongst the
two species. I have seen so many wonderful things, but these two or three minutes out weighed
them all.

Immediately I was overwhelmed with emotion as I said to my guests “You’re all about to witness
something incredibly special”. And then we watched. They didn’t come all at once, and only about 20
were beside our boat in different little groups while the rest were by the shore. After the first small
group had passed I pulled myself together and did my job.
“These are the Southern Resident killer whales, they are incredibly endangered and there are only 75
left today. This is incredibly special because we never see them, I’ve never seen them, and usually we
aren’t allowed to see them. Even though it’s not our fault.”

I began explaining about how their population was initially diminished due to captivity, how humans
took the babies and the breeding mothers, how they deafened them with dynamite, drowned them
in pens and after that they took their food away. I explained how they only eat the Chinook and the
Coho Salmon and how these species themselves are now endangered. I pointed at the whales “They
are starving!” and then I cried.

I stood between 30 strangers and 20 Southern Resident killer whales. And I cried. I told them even if
they returned to Victoria, they still may never see these whales again. That their children may never
see them. That my children may never see them. I told them in less than 100 years they would be
gone.

Tears streaming down my face I asked them to put pressure on the government to protect these
amazing animals. I told them the government was lying. That they blamed whale watchers for the
decline, when in actual fact, our captains in the wheelhouse were feeling their own range of
emotions, including joy, longing, grief, and finally anger. As they watched these whales go past, they
recognised the individual orcas. Whales they had built relationships with, over years of watching
them, studying them, and loving them.

Whale watchers were the ones to report Scarlet. A young calf in J pod who struggled to survive due
to malnutrition. Whale watchers were the last ones to see her.

Whale watchers were the ones to report when J35’s baby passed away. They reported when her
mother carried her body on her back for weeks and also reported her bringing the body to the boats
she recognised to ask them for help. Whale watchers reported when there were new calves and
when the new calves “disappeared” which meant that they had not made it. Whale watchers were
the ones to educate the people, to hold recreational boats accountable, to make the public care.
Whale watchers asked the government to help the Southern Residents. They were their friends, their
protectors, and their biggest allies.

The government took the money from the salmon, they took the money from the oil pipes, they
allowed the chemicals to leach into the ocean and the fish to disappear. They took bribes and
bonuses; they made a fortune off the lives of these animals and then when the public demanded
answers, they made whale watchers the scapegoats. They made it impossible to whale watch. They
made it impossible to educate the public. To get the people to care. They made the Southern
Residents disappear.

Every day, less and less people care about these whales. Soon they will be forgotten. Left to die of
starvation, unable to feed the few babies they manage to bring to term. They will feel every loss of
every member of the pod. Just as I feel the loss of Tokitae today. Her mother is still alive, she’s
thought to be the eldest member left, she’s reached her 90’s; as all female orcas should. Any parent
will tell you that you are not supposed to outlive your children. And yet for the Southern Residents,
they regularly do.

Before the news of Tokitae’s passing, I spent this morning thinking about her and I wondered how
quickly her release could be processed. I wondered if I would be fortunate enough to contribute to it.
I wondered if the Southern Residents would remember her. If after 50 years in a tank, with a range of
companions from all over the world, if she would remember how to communicate to her own family.
I hoped that there would be a connection, that the bond of family would be strong enough to bring
her back in. I imagined that they might stay by the pen, that this would lead to them releasing her
early to see what happened, and her family would help her relearn how to be wild. I imagined that
they would take care of her just like they did for Scarlett. I wondered if they could fix and heal the
damage that we caused far better than we could.

And then this afternoon I learned she died. And all of those dreams died with her.

I know as I write this people will be hurting far more than I.

I am no one, I am a recent graduate with degrees in Marine Zoology & Marine Conservation. A recent
immigrant here to Canada & the Salish sea. A brand-new naturalist this season with no experience,
no history and no connection to these animals until yesterday.

Last night my colleagues told me stories of the good old days, their connections with individual
members, their own wonderful memories and their heartbreak in recent years. This news will hurt
them too.

I know Tokitae’s direct carers and trainers will also be heartbroken. I know they were just trying to do
their best for her in her circumstances. I know they cared.

I know all the scientists who have spent the past 50 years researching the Southern Residents, the
ones trying to fix the salmon, the ones desperately trying to organise Tokitae’s release, I know they
will all be hurting too. Another whale lost to humanities ignorance. My heart goes out to them.

I want to tell them that we will do better, that the future is not as bleak as it looks today and that it is
not too late to right this wrong. For Tokitae, for the individuals who died before her. For the babies
we have lost and the two new ones born to L pod this year that we may still lose. We will make this
change for them. We will learn this lesson for them.

The whale watching community will not forget Tokitae or the Southern Residents, nor will the
indigenous tribes whose history and culture is so entwined with the orcas. Neither will the countless
marine biologists, working so hard to protect them. And after reading this, I hope neither will you.