Which tour to take? The all-day ecosystem, whale and wildlife tour only happens a few times per year, with only one sailing in the spring. The coincidence that it falls during the four days of my trip removes any hesitation about which tour to book.

The Orca Behavior Institute researchers had recently posted about a trip with Maya’s Legacy, which is what brought me to their website in the first place. The Orca Behavior Institute‘s endorsement lends credibility for solid wildlife stewardship and success in finding said wildlife.

Despite the five-day forecast prediction for 50° and showers, the day of our adventure arrived warm and cloudless – a comfortable, gorgeous Pacific Northwest day!

The Adventure Begins

With three guides, two researchers and ten guests aboard, our first stop was Spieden Island, reliable for Steller sea lions basking on the rocks. Only the males haul out here. As we drift past cormorants and harlequin ducks, someone spots a family of river otters! They weren’t too comfortable with us stopping to stare, but soon settled back into whatever mischief they were up to when we spotted them porpoising along the shoreline.

Spieden Island

In 1969, Spieden Island was developed to be an exclusive hunting camp. Mouflon sheep from the Middle East, Asian Sika deer and European Fallow deer were imported. In 1970, the media were invited to tour the new posh operation. Outrage ensued. The proverbial “fish in a barrel”, stray bullets reaching inhabited San Juan Island. The business never succeeded. The sheep and deer remain.

Orcas!

Sailing north into Canadian waters, we came across a pod of six Bigg’s Orcas cruising with intention through Shingle Bay. We stayed parallel to their path, 200 yards away. Unlike so many other outfitter guides who, similarly, aren’t allowed to approach wildlife, so instead put themselves in the animals’ path, our captain and all the other whale-watching boats out here stay out of the orcas’ path. When the orca change course, so do we, always exceeding the minimum allowable distance. It’s refreshing, and in my experience, rare, to have a company practice what it preaches in this regard. There are countless individuals and entities protective of these whales, and there is always someone watching. It’s good for the whales. Also, I forgot my long lens at home.Hear the blow, see the spray, watch the dorsal fin arc out of the water and then sink straight down. The rhythm of the movement is comforting, mesmerizing. Using the unique shapes of their white saddle patches and white eye patches, our guides identified this group as T90 with her three offspring (T90B, T90C and T90D) and unrelated brothers T167A and T167B. The “T” is for transient; now, more appropriately called Biggs.

Decades ago, we thought there were resident orca pods and transient orca pods. This location-based designation didn’t hold up as our knowledge grew. Both of these orca species travel widely and can share the same waters, although they are culturally and genetically distinct. They don’t socialize, breed or intermingle at all. The number indicates the oldest known female, the matriarch, and the letters indicate her offspring in birth order.

At the Navy Channel, the orcas turn back. The captain cuts the engine, not quite sure which direction they went. They resurface a distance behind us. Based on their behavior and the lack of any sustained hunting or surface commotion during the hunt or kill, our experts suspect the pod caught a harbor seal. Bigg’s orcas are mammal specialists, feeding on seals, sealions, porpoises and whales.

And then, they play. Spy-hopping, tail-slapping, cavorting. It looks like the relief of success after hard work and an uncertain outcome.

People who live along this channel all stopped what they were doing to watch the orcas play.

They settled, then moved on past us, through the channel, passing in front of Mount Baker. We left them there to see what else the Salish Sea had to show us.

Social Structure

Orcas form matrilineal groups, called pods. Pods consist of the matriarch, the oldest living female, and her offspring. Each pod has their own dialect. Pods will temporarily join together, forming large groups of dozens of individuals.

Biggs tend to travel in small family groups of three to seven individuals, consisting of immediate offspring. When a Biggs daughter has her own calf, she will then soon start her own pod. Unique in animal social structure, males stay with their mother for life. They visit other pods to breed and then return to their mother’s pod. Resident orcas live in larger family pods that can include up to four generations. These are close-knit, highly structured families. The resident orcas are fish specialists and, in the Pacific Northwest, feed almost exclusively on Chinook salmon. There are three pods of resident orcas here: J pod (27 individuals), K pod (15 individuals) and L pod (34 individuals). These Southern Resident Killer Whales were listed as endangered in 2015 largely due to declining salmon populations. This population of orcas ranges from Northern California to British Columbia. (There is a thriving Northern Resident population off the Pacific coast of Canada. These two populations of orcas are genetically distinct and do not interbreed). The J Pod winters in the Salish Sea, while K Pod and L Pod travel to the waters of Northern California. In the summers, they all meet in Puget Sound, in a superpod to reconnect and feast on Chinook salmon. That would be something to see!

On our way back toward Friday Harbor, we passed some harbor seal haulouts. These are the puppies of the sea. Just look at those eyes!

And rhinoceros auklets. They are related to puffins and, in my opinion, among the more exotic of our seabirds. This was a special encounter for me!

Heading into the Haro Strait along San Juan Island, we came upon another pod of orcas. This is T123 with her three offspring. T123, Sydney, was born in 1985 to T46, one of the last killer whales to be captured in US waters, destined for life in depressingly small marine park pools.

This capture of the Budd Inlet Six led to legislation outlawing the capture of killer whales, and these six orcas were released back into the wild. T46 lived to be at least 57 years old, wild and free. I am watching these four orcas today only because of those protections. We’ve come a long way.

There was much to see and much to learn on this sunny, warm spring day out on the Salish Sea with Maya’s Legacy.

If you’re interested in purchasing or licensing any images you see here, please email me at SNewenham at exploringnaturephotos.com, and I’ll make it happen.

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The post Salish Sea Orcas appeared first on Exploring Nature by Sheila Newenham.

I’d consulted the tide chart to plan this trip, so it’s no coincidence that the lowest negative tides of the season are this week. I’d been craving the dark, sharp rocks decorated with the textures and colors of seastars, anemones, crustaceans and all manner of undersea life.

I got hooked on this glimpse of ocean life while tidepooling on the Olympic Peninsula two years ago. Endless fascination. I could’ve spent all day on those beaches. It was past time to go back. San Juan Island had been lingering on my ever-expanding travel list for longer than I’d like to admit. It has charismatic sea animals (big and small), rugged seascapes, tidepooling beaches, coveted spring wildflowers and controversial wild foxes.

Low Tide

I set down my pack, swapped my hiking shoes for water shoes and waded into the cool Pacific waters. This cove is a kelp forest. Prime sea habitat. However, when the water leaves, the rocks are covered in undulating ribbons of vegetation that hide and protect the treasures I’d come to discover.

However, the kelp and seaweed bring their own art to the low tide beaches.

Intricate Details

Two steps into the calm, shallow water, an aptly named decorator crab scuttles toward the cover of floating seaweed. If it hadn’t moved, I never would’ve noticed it.

Like caterpillars and caddisfly larvae, these animals camouflage themselves (i.e., decorate) with surrounding detritus.

Instead of an exploration of the larger, dramatic, colorful invertebrates, this is a glimpse into the tiny world of snails, shrimp and crabs. I was thrilled to find a nudibranch tucked in on exposed rock! Nudibranchs are exotic, brilliantly colored sea slugs (marine gastropod mollusks lacking external shells).

Colony-forming anemones cover the wet sand. Between the anemones, barnacles, chitons and slippery mosses, it’s slow going as I carefully pick my way along the sharp, rugged shoreline, trying not to squish anyone. I covered some stranded red rock crabs to protect them from the sun and the lurking gulls and crows, who know the tide schedule better than anyone.

There were plenty of crabs under the water, too. They’re small and would be hard to find if they weren’t always on the move. 

And other scurrying little critters. I thought this was a school of minnows before I looked closer. So many shrimp! 

Chitons are ancient, armor-plated mollusks. They adhere themselves so tightly to the rocks when the tide goes out that they cannot be removed with bare hands. I’d never seen the underside of one before. This one was alive, so I righted him and set him on a rock.

Reefs Exposed

There were anemones. So many small anemones. I photographed many underwater between swells and waves of obscuring kelp, in rhythmic time when the colorful animals were revealed.

And then there’s the coral reef life exposed. All the things that I enjoy while snorkeling, some, like sponges and tunicates, look the same, others, like the featherduster worms, required some help to identify.

A Surprise Encounter

As the tide began to draw the curtain on these treasures, I stood marveling at how quickly the sea returns (the ebbing tide is comparatively slow), when I caught motion from the corner of my eye. My first split-second reaction was, “Fox!” (There are so many here, and the size is right), but then my brain caught up to what I was seeing. A river otter loping over the rocks just yards in front of me.

Without a sound, he slipped into the water. Once he was out of sight, I stepped back just far enough to see around the massive boulder between us. Without acknowledging me, he swam directly to the shore fifty feet to my right, bounded across the beach and disappeared into a dark, treed ravine strewn with deadfall.

I’m delighted by this random glimpse of an otter living his life. Grinning ear to ear, I walked along the shoreline until I came to otter prints exiting the surf. The prints are closer to me than I’d thought, but it all happened so fast. I didn’t question it.

I followed the trail up the beach, crossing the deer tracks that I’d noticed earlier, curving near my pack and shoes (thankfully untouched by this curious, playful creature!).

That’s when I saw the other otter tracks! This is the trail from the otter I’d seen, exiting the water further away from where I was, as I’d suspected. Both tracks disappeared into the same drainage. This must be their home.

While marveling at the otter tracks and piecing together what had happened while I was absorbed in the tiny sealife at my feet, I saw that this first set of otter tracks crossed a trail of fox prints! The fox traversed the beach parallel to the water without deviation in pace or path.

I am ecstatic that all of this wildlife activity took place in proximity to me and without regard to me – even if I didn’t know it at the time. Being seen by wildlife as a normal, acceptable part of their environment is one of life’s greatest pleasures.

False Bay

The next day, I tidepooled at False Bay, where I saw another river otter swim past me, lope up a beach and disappear into a similar drainage. The timing relative to the tide was the same as the day before.

So the following day, using the tide as my guide, I brought a cooler down to Granny’s Cove to tailgate and wait for an otter to appear. It was a peaceful, gorgeous way to spend a couple of hours. But no otter. 

Above the Water

Stay tuned for the foxes and orcas of San Juan Island.

If you’re interested in purchasing or licensing any images you see here, please email me at SNewenham at exploringnaturephotos.com, and I’ll make it happen.

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The post Tidepooling Surprises on San Juan Island appeared first on Exploring Nature by Sheila Newenham.