The other day, we watched a mother whale and her calf on their migration from the birthing area to a richer food area. The mother didn't eat during the birth time and had to wait to begin migrating until the baby was strong enough to make the trip. She had carried the calf for 13 months before the birth. When the calf was strong enough, they began. On the trip, a pair of killer whales found them and went after the calf. For 6 hours, the mother and calf swam with this deadly escort of predators. According to the narration, the hunting strategy was to stay with the prey and steadily try to isolate the calf while avoiding strikes from the giant mother's tail.
Much of the footage seemed like a ballet to me. If I hadn't been told what was happening, I might have thought there was inter-species friendship or neighborliness going on. The killers repeatedly tried to get between the mother and the calf and often succeeded, only to lose the chance to isolate and attack. The mother gave the baby nudges trying to assist it but eventually, the predators succeeded. Some bloody sea water and the baby was dead. The killers only ate a small part of the body. I think they said it was the lower jaw. We saw the discarded carcass on the ocean floor, furnishing food for some worm-like creatures that live down there.
The facts that a mother whale puts that much time and effort into birth and parenting, that both whales and killer whales could spend six hours in a water-based showdown that seemed so leisurely and graceful and that so much of the carcass was not used by the predators has stuck with me. Because the orcas were capable of hunting and the prey was a baby, it seems natural to sympathize with the baby and the mother. But I suppose orcas and other predators have a right to life, too.
