In July, 2001, a baby orca appeared alone in Nootka Sound, on the west coast of Vancouver Island. The orca was identified as L-98, or "Luna", a member of the Southern Resident family known as L-pod, which spends summers among islands near Victoria, Vancouver and Seattle.
In his solitude, Luna turned to humans for companionship. But concerns about his wellbeing led the Canadian Department of Fisheries and Oceans to forbid human contact with Luna and enforce that rule with stewardship programs and criminal charges. At the same time, the people of the Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nation of Nootka Sound announced that they believed Luna bore the spirit of a late chief.
In 2004, the Department tried to capture Luna to move him south in hopes he would reunite. But First Nation members intervened with canoes and prevented the capture.
Over the next two years, stewardship programs continued to try to keep Luna and the public safe. My wife, Suzanne Chisholm, and I participated informally in those programs. But we eventually came to believe that these and all the previous stewardship operations did not effectively manage the risks to Luna and the public. We proposed a more active program to give Luna the socialization he craved and help him expand his territory to areas in which he might encounter L-pod naturally. The proposal was not approved.
In March, 2006, Luna was hit by the propeller of a tug, and a cherished member of an endangered species died.
Was this tragedy inevitable, or was it easy to avoid? That’s the question.