Of Orcas and Men: What Killer Whales Can Teach Us

by David Neiwert

It was an apt name. Like many calves, she was playful and curious. She kept heading in the direction of my kayak, and her mother kept intervening, distracting her to other, more appropriate interests, such as salmon. They appeared, in fact, to be hunting; Polaris was lingering near the surface, seemingly intent on her prey, and then she made a quick turn and disappeared beneath the surface. Star followed, and all was quiet for a moment, except for the two large males who lurked on the perimeter, like playground guards patrolling. Then Polaris and her baby burst together out of the water, rolling and rubbing. The mother appeared to have a salmon in her mouth, and as they rubbed closely in the water, she appeared to be sharing it with her calf. Then they both submerged again. When they reappeared forty seconds or so later, it was to resume the close-contact play in which they were indulging. Star was rubbing all over her mama, and the mama in turn was nudging the calf about playfully. At one point the mother nudged her rostrum out of the water in an extended spyhop, while the little one rose up alongside her, half out of the water, and peered about, creating the brief illusion that she was every bit as big as her mother. It was a tremendous and touching display of affection. As I watched them, I recalled my then-fading experiences as a first-time

Paris and Star