SEA OF CORTEZ 30°26’13.9”N 113°50’25.8”W
Orcas are the apex predators of the ocean. Neither sharks nor blue whales, three times their size, can challenge or defeat them, leaving the mobulas with no chance or hope of escape. Their hunting techniques vary depending on the pods and the animals they’re hunting. They have different diets all around the world. The orcas in Norway eat mostly herring, the ones in Argentina sea lions, the ones in Antarctica seals. That same morning, I saw two of these orcas, a mother and calf, with a blue shark in the mouth of the mother. Nature, untamed and beautiful. Despite its wildness and brutality, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
“As a tightly knit family, separation is a rare occurrence for us. Our bonds run deep as we diligently care for one another.”
Navigating the beautiful waters around the Baja California peninsula, we pass through the Sea of Cortez and the Pacific Ocean. Today, we arrived near La Ventana, a familiar spot we like to revisit, where large groups of mobula rays and dolphins often gather, both being a delicious part of our diet. I feel like today we’re going to have a good feast. Among us is Níich, named for the distinctive shape of her dorsal fin, resembling a bite. Sometimes human name us to study us better, to separate us, but if they just knew how much we understand. Every pod even has their own dialect. Humans so often believe that they know everything, but they’d be surprised of the beauty that’s still hidden before their eyes. There are so many schools of mobula rays that we separate at times. I approach a group with my sisters. I descend and show my white belly to the mobulas so they get scared and go to the surface, while my sisters go around the other side, surrounding them. With this technique, we can hunt them more easily. My mother taught me that. We’re not born knowing. The matriarch teaches us everything she knows: how to hunt, communicate, and the traditions of our family. She even takes the time to train the youngest members, isolating mobula rays for them to practice hunting. As a tightly knit family, separation is a rare occurrence for us. Our bonds run deep as we diligently care for one another. I watch Níich circling a group of mobulas, hunting as many as she can. Now she does it alone. I can sense something else being behind the mobulas. While I think about which one to eat, Níich approaches to investigate. It’s just a human. They’re clumsy in the water but can be useful in cornering the mobulas. Despite occasional discomfort from human presence, Níich maintains a curiosity toward these beings who often come just to observe. Yet she remembers the mistreatment her species has endured at the hands of some of them. We speak, we play, we love, and we take care of each other. When a baby dies, the mother drags it around for days and even weeks grieving her loss. We belong in the ocean, free, and not in a manmade tank. We love and fear. We feel.
Do you still think we’re so different from you?
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MOTHER VOLUME THREE
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