Tears left my eyes despite my will to keep them in their ducts as I followed the story of Tahlequah, or J35, an orca from the southern resident killer whale (SRKW) J Pod, who carried her dead baby on her head for over 2 weeks. The water rolling down my cheeks during Tahlequah’s time of grief, salty and sorrowful like her home waters of the Salish Sea, flowed freely, unobstructed. Unlike the dammed waters of the Columbia and Snake Rivers that no longer allow for large enough salmon runs to sustain the main diets of the SRKW and human consumption together. Tahlequah moved through the currents of the San Juan Straight, holding her baby who lived only a half an hour after being born on July 24th, and diving at depths to recover the body when it slipped, while keeping up with her pod for 17 days.
Tahlequah and her family were in mourning for the lifeless calf, the first one born since 2015. Who is to say why she finally let her baby sink?
It seemed like the whole world was watching the orca’s mourning ritual. Local scientists speculated on J35’s behaviors, wary of making anthropomorphic predictions. But it is difficult to deny the emotions behind such a display. I was moved by her behavior and the environmental issues the SRKW face so I made a trip to the San Juan Islands over Labor Day weekend. What if this was my only chance to see the orcas of that area before they disappear?
I had the honor of sighting a family group of orcas while they were sleeping; they continue to swim, but at a slower pace and breech more often to breathe. It was an unforgettable experience. But there are only 75 southern resident killer whales left. Will they soon live on only in the memories of people who were lucky enough to have once been in their presence?
Orcas are struggling to survive in troubled waters.
Later in September, I attended the Buffalo Field Campaign (BFC) Road Show at Oregon State University. BFC goes on tour every autumn after hordes of summer tourists leave Yellowstone National Park and before November when hordes of bison migrate out of the park, where they meet their fate at the hands of the Montana Department of Livestock, and Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife, and Parks. Under pressure from the lobbying power of cattle ranchers, authorities haze, pen-up, and kill hundreds of bison every year when they move out of Yellowstone because of an unsupported claim that they will infect cattle with a bacterial disease that can spread to humans, Brucellosis.
According to their website, the BFC has gone on tour in Washington, Oregon, and California since 1999, “to share music, stories, video, and discussion—all of which is inspired by the last wild bison.” This year the show consisted of live original indigenous music performed by Goodshield Aquilar and Mignon Geli, storytelling, and a screening of Thia Martin’s short film “Our National Mammal”.
It is important to acknowledge and understand what it means to continue to occupy lands that were forcibly taken from Indigenous peoples. Colonization and decolonization are directly related to the mission of the BFC Road Show. Indigenous plains people have deep relationships with bison, they are considered relatives to them. When European settlers moved West across Turtle Island the US government encouraged an all-out bison slaughter to weaken the cultural fabrics and food provisions for Indigenous plains people.
My mind gawked at the story of the last wild bison. Mike Mease, BFC Campaign Coordinator gave the low down. The bison that call the greater Yellowstone area home are of the species Bison bison, the descendants of the estimated twenty-three surviving wild bison after the slaughters that ended in the late 1880s. You may have seen bison in other parts of the US, but all of them have been bred with cows to facilitate the domestication process. The twenty-three survivors carried on their lineage in the fewer than 4,000 that are now the last wild bison.
Bison are struggling to survive on troubled plains.
Mourning. Again, that verb comes to mind when considering the needless deaths of bison every year and the plight of orcas. Both have an inherent right to life, both have cultural significance for Indigenous peoples, both must be grieving their losses.
From mourning springs action.
BFC’s “primary goal is to create permanent year-round protection for bison and the ecosystem they depend on—including respect for the migratory needs of this long-exploited and clearly endangered species.” They do so by calling on volunteers to follow and record the actions of the state and federal agencies responsible for hazing, penning, and shooting the bison. The footage has helped in policy advocacy, informing the public of these actions, and changing the behavior of officials in the field. BFC has an open call for volunteers to bear witness, to document the ongoing violence every winter.
What action can be taken for orcas? We need to drastically change management practices for salmon and all commercial fisheries. We must put pressure on officials to dismantle the Snake River dams and we need to resist the development of more pipelines. Leadership should be taken from the Lummi Nation and other indigenous peoples that have relationships with orcas and bison. Like bison, we cannot improve the situation for orcas without healing their whole ecosystem. Managing for single species isn’t effective in our interconnected world. We need to unlearn and relearn ways of relating to the more-than-human.
These events helped set my resolve of refusing to imagine a world where orcas, bison, and other imperiled beings are only a memory. Join me and others in the struggles for these troubled places?
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For more information about the southern resident killer whales and the last wild bison:
http://www.buffalofieldcampaign.org/
https://www.whaleresearch.com/
Gratitude to Eena Haws Native American Longhouse, Spring Creek Project, and Buffalo Field Campaign for the roadshow. And special thanks to Tahlequah for holding on so that we could no longer look away.
