CHAPTER XVI
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.
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.
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.
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:
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]
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.