Before we moved to the Pacific Northwest, we frequently visited this region while on vacation. Our son and his wife moved to Olympia for his first job after graduate school. Our first two grandchildren were born in Olympia, making it a go-to destination whenever we had time. To celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary, our children and their families gathered with us at Anacortes to celebrate. That visit included a day trip aboard one of the many whale-watching ships that carry tourists to view the mammals that roam in the Salish Sea. Our journey took us among the San Juan islands, and we successfully saw a pod, or family group of orcas, also known as killer whales. I didn’t know much about the different types of mammals in the area back then, but we were most likely seeing members of the J pod. There are three pods that makeup what is known as the southern residents. These pods remain in the general area of the Strait of Georgia offshore of where we live.

In the late fall, the three pods usually can be found hunting for Chinook salmon near the mouth of the Fraser River just a few miles north of where we live. They often range farther south into the Puget Sound in the late fall. By December or January, the pods will have moved out into the mouth of the Strait of Juan de Fuca off the tip of Vancouver Island. J pod generally stays around that area until they return to the Salish Sea in the late summer, following the salmon as they head toward the mouths of rivers to swim upstream to spawn. The other two pods of the southern residents travel south along the outer coast, sometimes going as far as California, but J pod generally stays close to where we live. Scientists are not entirely sure of the exact territory of the pod because following orcas in the open ocean is a challenging task, and often, they disappear for long periods.

Back in 2018, before we moved here, one of the adult females of J pod received international attention when her calf died, and she carried the body of the calf for 17 days, covering 1,000 miles. Local tribes named here Tahlequah might be translated as “two,” “just two,” or “two is enough.” The name was a nod to the dedication of the mother to the calf even after it died, and she became a symbol of grief. This region has a lot of grief as salmon runs continue to diminish. The diminishing salmon runs affect the health of the animals that depend on the salmon for their food source. While some orcas eat widely varied diets, including eating other sea mammals, the orcas of J pod eat salmon as their exclusive food source. The southern residents are endangered, with only 73 members left. In addition to the lack of salmon, the orcas are threatened by pollution that contaminates their food and the noise from ships, which disrupts their hunting. The threats to the orcas are intensified by climate change, which is dramatically altering food supplies in the ocean. Warming also depletes summer stream flows, affects the salmon's migration patterns, and affects the orca pods' health.

Tahlequah’s devotion to her calf inspired tributes and became a focus of the broader grief that has come with dramatic climate change. Although we don’t know much about the emotions of other creatures, it is easy to see the mother's dedication as an expression of grief.

And now, observers believe that Tahlequah has surpassed her 2018 tour of grief. In late December, observers and many of us here celebrated seeing a new calf swimming alongside her. In addition to the calf that died in 2018, she has successfully raised two calves, and this new calf was a sign of promise. That promise turned to grief when, on New Year’s Eve, Tahlequah was seen carrying the body of the calf that died of unknown causes. That was 19 days ago, and it is unknown whether or not she is still carrying that calf as the pod has moved to the mouth of the Strait of San Juan de Fuca, where direct observation is much more difficult.

Those who observe animals in the wild, including birds, land, and sea mammals, have noted many cases of animals trying to cling to the bodies of family members who have died. In 2021, Edinburgh Zoo reported that one of their chimpanzees refused to let go of a stillborn baby. Elephants, crows, geese, and dolphins have been observed focusing on the bodies of dead relatives. We, humans, can identify with that behavior as we seek to cling to those we have lost and express our grief with a host of different traditions around the care and handling of the bodies of our loved ones.

Indigenous people have long traditions of expressing kinship with other creatures with whom we share the environment. They frequently refer to different species as kin. Coast Salish tribes have held prayers and ceremonies focusing on sharing the grief of Tahlequah. There is an understanding that her grief is also our grief. And it is. We, too, are affected by the dangers of pollution. We, too, eat salmon and other sea creatures for nutrition and sustenance. We also understand the threats that global climate change makes for all creatures, including ourselves. The fact that we share the grief of the orca mother, however, has no impact on her or future generations of her kind unless we turn that grief into action. Global warming is directly connected to human consumption of fossil fuels. Ocean pollution results from human carelessness with the resources we use to support our lifestyles.

Suppose we would genuinely share the grief of Tahlequah as she carries her dead baby. In that case, we must continue to find ways to change our consumption patterns and do what we can to influence policymakers to protect the environment and clean up pollution. Death and grief will be a part of this world as long as there is life. If current trends continue, a day will come in the foreseeable future when there are no more orcas to mourn the losses of their kind. That is a tragedy we can prevent if we have the will.