HOW KILLERS TEAR OUT A GRAY WHALE’S TONGUE
The gray whales, as well as other large cetaceans, have only two
enemies—man and one of their own kind, the orca or killer whale.
Although twice the size of the killers and correspondingly strong, when
one of the orcas appears the devilfish become terrified and either
wildly dash for shore or turn belly up at the surface, with fins
outspread, paralyzed by fright.
A few days after my arrival at Ulsan, three gray whales were brought to
the station, one of which had half the tongue torn away; teeth marks
clearly showed in the remaining portion and Captain Hurum, who had
killed the animals, told me that it was the work of killers.
There were seven gray whales in the school, he said, and shortly after
he began to hunt them fifteen killers appeared. The whales became
terrified at once and he had no difficulty in killing three of the
seven. When the orcas gathered the whales turned belly up and made not
the slightest attempt to get away. A killer would put its snout against
the closed lips of the devilfish and endeavor to force the mouth open
and its own head inside. This extraordinary method of attack was
corroborated by Captain Johnson, who had been hunting the same school of
gray whales, and, moreover, by all the whalemen at the station, who had
witnessed it upon many other occasions.
[Illustration:
Cutting through the body of a gray whale. The thick layer of blubber
surrounding the red meat is well shown.
]
Of thirty-five gray whales which I examined especially, seven had the
tongues eaten to a greater or less extent and one had several large,
semicircular bites in the left lower lip. The killers do not confine
their attention entirely to the tongue for almost every whale which was
brought in had the tips and posterior edges of the fins and flukes more
or less torn; in several specimens fresh teeth marks were plainly
visible where the fin had been shredded as the whale drew it out of the
orca’s mouth.
Although none of the gray whales exhibited teeth marks on other parts of
the body, undoubtedly some of them are killed by the orcas. A female
killer which was brought in had several pieces of flesh in its stomach,
besides a strip of whalebone three inches long. I could not positively
identify the latter but believe it to have been from a small devilfish.
A male killer was taken at the same time by Captain Hurum, who told me
that in the animal’s death flurry it had thrown up two great chunks of
flesh.
Captain Melsom brought a gray whale to the station one day and I found
that the tongue was almost gone. He said he had passed a school of
killers in the morning and later, after steaming about fifteen miles,
had killed the devilfish. A short time afterward, a long distance away,
he saw the fins of a school of killers which were coming at full speed
straight for the ship. They circled about the vessel and one of them
forced open the mouth of the dead whale to get at the tongue. Captain
Melsom fired at the killer with his Krag rifle and when struck the
animal lashed out with its flukes, smashing the ship’s rail, and then
disappeared.
As soon as orcas appear, if the gray whales are not paralyzed by fright,
they head for shore and slide in as close as possible to the beach where
sometimes the killers will not follow them. The devilfish will actually
get into such shallow water as to roll in the wash and will even try to
hide behind rocks. The orcas are not afraid of ships and will not leave
the whales they are chasing when the vessels arrive, thus giving much
assistance to the human hunters.
[Illustration:
The posterior part of a gray whale. Note the scalloped dorsal ridge of
the peduncle and the white markings along the sides.
]
Captain Johnson, of the _Rex Maru_, brought to the station at Ulsan a
gray whale which had been shot in the breast between the fins. He had
first seen killers circling about the whale which was lying at the
surface, belly up, with the fins outspread. The animal was absolutely
paralyzed by fright. The vessel steamed up at half speed and Johnson
shot at once, the iron striking the whale squarely between the flippers.
The gray whales live in such constant terror that when porpoises are
playing about a single animal, as frequently happens, it will sometimes
become terrified and dash madly for the shore, thinking that the killers
have appeared.
I have never personally witnessed it, but the gunners tell me that a pod
of gray whales can be stampeded much like a herd of cattle. If three or
four ships are near each other when a school of devilfish are found,
they draw together, each vessel going at full speed, while the sailors
beat tin pans and make as much noise as possible. The whales at once
dive, but as soon as they rise to spout the vessels rush at them again.
The devilfish go down once more but do not stay under long, ascending at
shorter and shorter intervals until finally they are plowing along at
the surface.
The animals are “scared up,” as the gunners say, and become terrified to
such a degree that everything is forgotten except the desire to get
away—and even the means of doing that. It is not always possible to
stampede a herd, for often the whales will disappear at the first sound
and not rise again until a long distance away. If killers are about, it
is very easy for the ships to stampede a herd of gray whales.
Even if the devilfish do exhibit considerable stupidity when danger from
orcas threatens, at other times they are the cleverest and most tricky
of all large whales. One day Captain Melsom, on the _S. S. Main_, was
hunting a gray whale in a perfectly smooth sea. The animal had been down
for fifteen minutes when suddenly a slight sound was heard near the ship
and a thin cloud of vapor was seen floating upward from a patch of
ripples which might have been made by a duck leaving the surface. The
whale had exposed only the blowholes, spouted, refilled the lungs, and
again sunk, doing it almost noiselessly. The gunners assert that this is
quite a usual occurrence when a single gray whale is being hunted.
One of the most interesting things in the life history of the devilfish
is the annual migration which occurs as regularly as the seasons. In no
other large cetacean is there anything like the migrating instinct which
carries the gray whales from the icy waters of the north three thousand
miles to the south to seek the warm lagoons of California and Korea in
which to raise their young.
On both sides of the Pacific the migrations take place at almost the
same time. Along the Korean coast near the end of November single
pregnant females appear, traveling steadily southward; a little later
both males and females are seen; and finally only males bring up the
rear, all having passed by January 25th.
When going south almost every female is found to be carrying young
nearly ready for birth, and all are hurrying straight ahead as though
anxious to arrive at the breeding grounds as soon as possible. The
devilfish again pass Ulsan, Korea, on the northward trip, about the
middle of March, and by May 15 have disappeared.
A comparison of these observations and those made by Scammon on the
California coast show that the migration periods of both herds
correspond closely and that the breeding grounds are in very nearly the
same latitude.
[Illustration:
The flukes of a gray whale. The edge of the flukes of this species is
very thick, but in most whales it is exceedingly thin.
]
As yet it is impossible to state whether or not the Korea or California
herds mingle in the north during the summer. Information gathered from
the whalers tends to show that a large part of the former school summers
in the Okhotsk Sea, and a large part of the latter in the Bering Sea and
farther north. Individuals of the two herds may mingle and interbreed
during their sojourn in the north, but it is probable that whales which
have been born near either the Korea or California coasts will find
mates among the members of their own herd during the southern migration,
and return annually to their birthplace. It is quite conceivable that
the case of the gray whale may be like that of the fur seal, where it
has been shown conclusively that members of the American and Japanese
herds do not mingle in the north although separated by comparatively few
miles of water.
Because of its regular migrations, the period of gestation of this
species can be more nearly determined than that of any other large
whale, and is about one year. Mating appears to take place in the south
during December or early January, and the calf is ready for delivery at
the same time the following winter; probably calves are born but once in
two years. The length of the gray whale calf at birth is between twelve
and seventeen feet and undoubtedly its size is much more than doubled
during the first year after birth.
The devilfish is a shore-loving species and on its annual migrations
always prefers to cruise along close to the beach. When unmolested it
swims about four or five miles an hour and cannot exceed nine miles even
when badly frightened and doing its best to get away.
At times the whales will go in so close to the shore that they are
actually rolling in the surf, and seem to enjoy being pounded by the
breakers. Scammon has observed the same habit in the California
specimens and says:
[Illustration:
A strip of blubber from the back of a gray whale with the short
flipper at the end of it.
]
About the shoals at the mouth of one of the lagoons, in 1860, we saw
large numbers of the monsters. It was at the low stage of the tide,
and the shoal places were plainly marked by the constantly foaming
breakers. To our surprise we saw many of the whales going through the
surf where the depth of water was barely sufficient to float them. We
could discern in many places, by the white sand that came to the
surface, that they must be near or touching the bottom.
One in particular lay for half an hour in the breakers, playing, as
seals often do in a heavy surf; turning from side to side with half
extended fins, and moved apparently by the ground-swell which was
breaking; at times making a playful spring with its bending flukes,
throwing its body clear of the water, coming down with a heavy splash,
then making two or three spouts, and again settling under water;
perhaps the next moment its head would appear, and with the heavy
swell the animal would roll over in a listless manner, to all
appearances enjoying the sport intensely. We passed close to this
sportive animal, and had only thirteen feet of water.[9]
Footnote 9:
(_l. c._, p. 24.)
Often, when being hunted, the Korean whales would swim into water so
shallow that the ships could not follow, and remain there until the men
had given up the chase.