SRKWs: What Orcas Are Teaching Us About Ocean Conservation

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In the cold, misty waters of the Pacific Northwest, a haunting melody echoes through the sea. It’s not a song written by humans, but one passed down through generations of orcas—Southern Resident Killer Whales, to be exact. These whales don’t just swim through the Salish Sea; they carry with them a legacy of culture, kinship, and warning. And if we’re willing to listen, they might just teach us how to save the ocean itself.

Who are the Southern Residents?

The Southern Resident Killer Whales (SRKWs) are a genetically distinct population of orcas that inhabit the coastal waters of Washington State and British Columbia. Unlike their transient or offshore cousins, these whales are residents—they return to the same waters year after year, following the salmon runs that sustain them.

They are divided into three pods: J, K, and L. Each pod is made up of tight-knit family groups led by matriarchs, and each has its own dialect—a unique set of vocalizations passed down like oral history. These whales don’t just survive in the ocean; they belong to it, woven into the ecological and cultural fabric of the Pacific Northwest.

But their story is not one of thriving. It’s one of survival. To learn more about these magnificent creatures, try “Endangered Orcas: The Story of the Southern Residents” by Monika Wieland Shields, available at Amazon

or, for younger readers, try “Granny’s Clan: A Tale of Wild Orcas” by Dr. Sally Hodson, which goes more into the J pod, lead by Granny, available through Amazon

A Population in Peril

In 2005, the Southern Residents were listed as endangered under the U.S. Endangered Species Act. At the time, their numbers had dwindled to just 88 individuals. Today, that number hovers in the low 70s. For a population that relies on complex social structures and intergenerational knowledge, every loss is more than a number—it’s a fracture in the family.

So what’s driving them toward extinction?

1. Starvation in a Sea of Plenty

The SRKWs rely almost exclusively on Chinook salmon, a species that has been decimated by overfishing, habitat destruction, and damming of rivers. Without enough salmon, the whales are literally starving. Pregnancies fail. Calves don’t survive. Adults grow thin and weak.

2. Toxic Waters

The whales are also swimming in a chemical soup. Persistent organic pollutants like PCBs accumulate in their blubber, weakening immune systems and disrupting reproduction. What are they? PCBs, or polychlorinated biphenyls, are a group of man-made chemicals that were widely used from the 1930s until they were banned in the U.S. in 1979. They were prized for being non-flammable and chemically stable, which made them useful in electrical equipment like transformers and capacitors, as well as in paints, plastics, and even carbonless copy paper.

The problem? PCBs don’t break down easily. Once they enter the environment—through leaks, improper disposal, or runoff—they stick around for decades. They accumulate in the fatty tissues of animals, especially top predators like orcas, and can cause serious health issues: immune suppression, reproductive failure, and developmental problems. In short, they’re a toxic legacy of industrial convenience—and the Southern Resident Killer Whales are among the species paying the price. These toxins don’t just come from industrial waste—they come from us. From the products we use, the runoff we ignore, the systems we’ve built.

3. Noise That Drowns Out Life

Imagine trying to have a conversation in a crowded, roaring stadium. That’s what it’s like for SRKWs navigating waters filled with shipping traffic, recreational boats, and sonar. Orcas rely on echolocation to hunt and communicate. When the ocean becomes too loud, they lose their voice—and their ability to survive.

What the Whales Reveal About Us

The plight of the Southern Residents isn’t just a tragedy—it’s a mirror. These whales are what scientists call an indicator species. Their health reflects the health of the ecosystem they inhabit. And right now, that reflection is grim.

But it’s also a call to action.

1. Interconnectedness Is Not Optional

The SRKWs teach us that no species exists in isolation. Their survival depends on salmon. Salmon depend on rivers. Rivers depend on forests. Forests depend on climate. And all of it depends on us.

When we protect salmon habitat, we protect whales. When we reduce pollution, we protect entire food webs. Conservation isn’t about saving one species—it’s about restoring the relationships that sustain life.

2. Culture Exists Beyond Humanity

These whales have culture. They have dialects, traditions, and learned behaviors passed from mother to calf. They mourn their dead. They play. They teach. Recognizing this challenges us to expand our definition of intelligence, of community, of worth.

If we can see the Southern Residents not just as animals, but as nations of the sea, we might begin to treat them with the respect they deserve.

3. Conservation Is Emotional

The story of SRKWs is not just scientific—it’s deeply emotional. Who can forget the image of Tahlequah, the orca mother who carried her dead calf for 17 days in 2018? That act of grief broke through the noise of apathy and reminded the world that these beings feel.

J35 Tahlequah continued to carry her daughter Tali, who died before being assigned a number, for over 1,000 miles through the Salish Sea, diving again and again to retrieve the body each time it slipped away. Scientists called it a “tour of grief,” but for many of us, it was something more—a moment of reckoning. Tahlequah wasn’t just mourning. She was showing us that grief, love, and loss are not uniquely human experiences.


Her story became a symbol. Not just of maternal devotion, but of what’s at stake when we fail to protect the ecosystems these whales depend on. It was a cry from the deep, echoing through headlines and hearts alike.

More about J35 and Tali will be covered in a special World Orca Day post on July 14th, 2025, so stay tuned for that. In the meantime, you can get your very own plushie from Wild Republic, which is a big advocate for orca research and conservation here.

What We Can Do- And Why It Matters

The Southern Residents are not beyond saving. But they need more than sympathy—they need action. Here’s what that looks like:

1. Restore Salmon Runs

Removing outdated dams, especially on the Snake and Columbia Rivers, would reopen critical spawning grounds for Chinook salmon. More salmon means more food—and more hope—for the SRKWs.

2. Reduce Ocean Noise

Implementing quiet zones, regulating vessel speeds, and rerouting shipping lanes can give orcas back their voice. Silence, in this case, is survival.

3. Clean Up Our Act

Stronger regulations on pollutants, better stormwater management, and reducing plastic waste all contribute to healthier waters. What we pour into the ocean eventually pours back into us.

4. Support Indigenous Stewardship

Tribal nations have long been protectors of these waters and their inhabitants. Supporting Indigenous-led conservation efforts honors both ecological wisdom and cultural heritage.

5. Stay Loud for the Quiet Ones

Public pressure works. Petitions, protests, and policy advocacy have already led to increased protections. Keep speaking up—for the whales, for the salmon, for the sea.

Why the Southern Residents Matter

The Southern Resident Killer Whales are more than a species. They are storytellers, sentinels, and survivors. They remind us that conservation isn’t just about saving animals—it’s about saving relationships. Between species. Between generations. Between ourselves and the planet we call home.

Their voices are still out there, echoing beneath the waves. The question is: are we still listening?

The Southern Residents:

The J Pod- Legacy of the Matriarchs

J2 “Granny” (deceased)
├── J8 Spieden (deceased)
├── J19 Shachi → J41 Eclipse → J51 Nova
├── J22 Oreo → J34 Doublestuf (deceased), J38 Cookie
├── J16 Slick → J26 Mike, J36 Alki, J42 Echo, J50 Scarlet (deceased)
├── J17 Princess Angeline (deceased) → J28 Polaris, J46 Star, J53 Kiki
└── J35 Tahlequah → Tali (unnumbered, deceased), J57 Phoenix

The K Pod- The Vanishing Middle

K7 Lummi (deceased)
└── K11 Georgia
├── K13 Skagit (deceased) → K20 Spock → K38 Comet, K25 Scoter
└── K12 Sequim → K22 Sekiu → K33 Tika, K37 Rainshadow

The L Pod- Large and Fragmented

L25 Ocean Sun
├── L41 Mega (deceased) → L83 Moonlight → L110 Midnight
├── L47 Marina → L91 Muncher, L115 Mystic
├── L72 Racer → L105 Fluke
├── L77 Matia → L119 Joy
└── L94 Calypso → L121 Windsong
└── Tokitae (Lolita / Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut) – captured 1970, died 2023

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