Orca Aware’s Suzie Hall, has spent the last year travelling the Americas. One of her highlights was seeing the orca of Punta Norte, within the Peninsula Valdés in Argentina. Here’s her account of the first time she witnessed their unique hunting behaviour!
I
heard them first; the unmistakable ‘pfooo’ of an orca blow, which I’ve come to
recognise so well. All heads turned to spot glistening droplets of water
falling gently back to the water’s surface. The chatter and excitement of the
hopeful crowd had ceased in anticipatory silence, and a collective breath was
held as we patiently waited. The morning light and calm skies rendered the
ocean a softly undulating mirror and we caught our first sight. Two, then
three, four, five unmistakable black fins carved their way through the silvery
pool, as if in slow-motion. Approaching high-tide, the ocean was only 20 metres
from the viewpoint, almost level with the eye, and the orca were cruising adjacent to our
perch.
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| Suzie (right) watching the orcas from shore © pnor.org |
Their dorsals grew closer, with louder 'pfoooos' echoing in quick succession as, one after the other, they each took a breath. We could see large, round heads and white eye-patches preceding smooth backs and shimmering saddle patches mere metres away.
No one uttered a word as we watched the group swim gracefully by. For a few moments, all we heard was the orca breathing, the waves lapping at the shore and the click-click of camera shutters. It was a remarkably peaceful scene.
The Punta Norte orca are arguably one of the most distinct of all orca populations, intentionally stranding themselves to catch their prey. Only in Argentina and the Crozet Islands have orca been seen to exhibit this behaviour, and only a handful of orca in each population actually hunt using this technique. This truly makes it one of the most fascinating natural spectacles to witness.
The orca time their arrival at these beaches with the South American sea lion and elephant seal pupping seasons. They are waiting as the pups venture away from the safety of their colonies, splashing into the water for the first time and taking their first swims along the shore.
This
particular group cruised the entire 200 metre length of the viewpoint, very close to
the shore. I watched an impressively large male (called “Jaluel”) swim beside
two smaller fins as they made their way south towards the “attack channel”. A
group of juvenile sea lions, swimming towards the viewpoint at the same
time, were frolicking lazily in the pull of the waves. They were naively unaware of
the unmistakable outline and silhouette of an orca approaching from only a few
tens of metres away. There was no break of the water by a dorsal fin, no audible
‘pfoooo’; just a silent, deadly figure in a single wave for a heartbeat of a
second… and then it was gone.
I watched, expecting the crash – the sound of orca and pup colliding in a bloody frenzy. I watched and I waited. I watched until the pups reached the spot where the orca had been, until they were directly in front of me, until they had swum right past in a northerly direction. Disappointed, I allowed myself to take a breath. It was over before it had even begun. Or so I thought.
From
the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the sharp, black edge of a dorsal fin slicing
through the water, tailing the pups with increasing speed. They were closing
in. As the pups sensed danger, they sped up, but it was already too
late. The orca had accelerated, launching itself into the group, timing its
attack perfectly with the breaking wave. There was a lot of splashing, frantic
crying, and the entire body of an eight-tonne orca tore the water apart as it charged
right out of the ocean and onto the sloping beach. I couldn’t tell whether it
had a pup, I was too shocked and awed by the powerful display in front of me to
take in all of the details.
A
juvenile orca surfaced offshore followed by two more until they formed a
tight-knit group again. They had the pup.
For
what felt like an age, they splashed and clashed and chased their prey, taking
it in turns to lurch out of the water, flip it with their mouths, slapping their
tails; putting on an incredible show in their natural, wild environment. I can
only imagine it didn’t play out too well for the sea lion pup, as the orca began to calm.
Now satiated, they turned south to join their kin.
I remained
on the peninsula just shy of a month, making my way to Punta Norte every day to
see the orca. And almost every day they came. Although their feeding behaviour
is well-studied and “predictable” during this season, no two days felt the same. My wonder at observing them never dwindled.
For part 2 of my Argentine adventure, I will be shining a further spotlight on this orca population and its individuals, as well as letting you know when to go and how to get there!
