Members of a pod of endangered killer whales now appear to be taking turns floating the body of a newborn calf that died more than week ago. 
 
 As It Happens reported on Friday about J-35, a mother orca from B.C.'s endangered killer whale population that has been balancing her dead calf on her nose near San Juan Island, Wash. 
 
 It's now been more than a week and the mother whale is still carrying the calf's remains — sparking concerns among researchers that she'll tire herself out. 
 
 "We do know her family is sharing the responsibility of caring for this calf, that she's not always the one carrying it, that they seem to take turns," Jenny Atkinson, director of the Whale Museum on San Juan Island, told As It Happens guest host Piya Chattopadhyay. 
 
 "While we don't have photos of the other whales carrying it, because we've seen her so many times without the calf, we know that somebody else has it." 
 
 New audio released 
 
 The Whale Museum released an audio recording on Monday of the mother communicating with her pod. 
 
 "You're hearing them communicate with one another. They're using a series of calls and whistles to communicate. And then you'll hear a clicking noise. That's echo-location," Atkinson said. 
 
 "They use it to pick up their food source as well as map their underwater environment." 
 
 The Whale Museum recorded the sound of the killer whale pod communicating to each other off San Juan Island, using geo-location to alert each other to potential obstacles and food sources. 0:20 
 
 She said it's possible the sounds are related to their mourning of the calf — but researchers can't know for sure. 
 
 "We picked up some calls earlier in the week and we hear things that sounded more like a very urgent call," she said. "If you think of going to a wake for a family, things can go on for multiple days and the grief is still deep, but the emotions kind of soften." 
 
 A whale funeral 
 
 That's exactly what Atkinson believes the whales are doing with the calf — holding their own version of a wake or a funeral. 
 
 "Ceremonies can go on for days to honour and mourn the loss of a loved one," she said. "I think that what you're seeing is the depth of importance of this calf and the grief of the mother and the family." 
 
 This July 25 photo shows the orca mother, J35, balancing her dead baby on her nose trying to keep it afloat. (Ken Balcomb/Centre for Whale Research) 
 
 Anthropologist Barbara King, who studies animal emotion, agrees the whale's behaviour is likely a display of grief. 
 
 There is a body of evidence that shows whales and dolphins mark the passing of their dead, King told CBC's On The Coast. 
 
 Sometimes they will surround dead companions, showing curiosity or exploration, King said. Other times, it goes further: they keep vigils around the bodies of dead podmates or keep them afloat. 
 
 "It's not anthropomorphic to use this label for them," King said. "Grief and love are not human qualities. They're things we share with some other animals." 
 
 Population in crisis 
 
 The southern resident killer whale population consists of three orca pods that live around the coast of Oregon, Washington and Vancouver Island. 
 
 Their numbers are dwindling and they haven't have a successful birth since 2015. 
 
 After the death of a 23-year-old orca June, the total number of southern resident killer whales is down to 75, the lowest it's been since the early '80s. The population has dropped by eight since 2016. 
 
 This orca mother has been holding her dead calf afloat for more than a week in a "heartbreaking" ritual.<br><br>Read more at <a href="https://t.co/LPrUsQCzDj">https://t.co/LPrUsQCzDj</a> <a href="https://t.co/FgsHnWrgTw">pic.twitter.com/FgsHnWrgTw</a> —@CBCNews 
 
 Their decline is attributed largely to a lack of available chinook salmon, their primary food source. 
 
 Researchers are already worried that another young whale in the pod — J-50 — could be the next to die. The four-year-old is becoming increasingly emaciated. 
 
 "I don't see how she can survive," Dave Ellifrit of the Center for Whale Research, told the Seattle Times. 
 
 In May, Canada's federal government announced plans to cut the allowable catch of chinook by 25 to 35 per cent. 
 
 In June, it announced further measures to help the endangered population, including reducing underwater vessel noise and better monitoring of pollution. 
 
 Human empathy 
 
 Atkinson said it's not hard to see why people have had such visceral reactions to images of J-35 and her calf. 
 
 "Watching what she's going through, most people have been through some level of grief and have had some situation that this touches, because they can understand losing a child, losing a calf, and how heart-wrenching that is," she said. 
 
 "And then not to be able to do anything when humans like to take action. We like to be able to do stuff. Sometimes the hardest thing is just to sit back and give respect and be a witness to a situation." 
 
 Written by Sheena Goodyear. Interview with Jenny Atkinson produced by Samantha Lui. ||||| An orca named J35 has finally dropped her dead calf, which she'd been pushing with her head for at least 17 days and 1,000 miles off the Pacific Northwest coast, in an unprecedented show of mourning that drew international attention. 
 
 The sad spectacle was a prime example, and confirmation, of the complex emotional lives of these sophisticated cetaceans, experts say. 
 
 Other orcas, and similar animals like dolphins, have been seen apparently mourning their dead, but this is by far the longest recorded example of such behavior. 
 
 J35, nicknamed Tahlequah, is a 20-year-old member of the long-studied J Pod of Southern Resident Killer Whales. These orcas, along with their endangered extended family—K and L pods—inhabit a huge territory that includes waters off Seattle, Vancouver, and Victoria, British Columbia. 
 
 Researchers worried that this "tour of grief" might seriously endanger the health of J35, but luckily, she appears to have made it through physically unharmed. "Telephoto digital images taken from shore show that this mother whale appears to be in good physical condition," the Center for Whale Research noted in an update, "following her record-setting ordeal. 
 
 As J35’s sojourn continued, some experts wondered why she was so attached to the calf. Was it because the calf lived for about 30 minutes after it was born? Jenny Atkinson, executive director of The Whale Museum in Friday Harbor, British Columbi, thinks the grief Tahlequah is feeling is deeper because after 17 months of gestation, she then had the chance to form an emotional connection with her baby before it died. 
 
 “I think that’s quite possible,” says John Ford, an orca researcher at the University of British Columbia. “The whales have a very strong drive to look after their offspring and this evidently extends to neonates that die at birth.” 
 
 The death of another calf is a significant blow to J Pod, which hasn’t seen a successful birth in three years. Combined, the three pods have 75 members, and time is running out to maintain its viability. Ken Balcomb, founder and principal investigator at the Center for Whale Research, gives it five years. 
 
 “We’ve got at most five more years of reproductive life in this population to make it happen”—meaning, to have viable offspring—"but if we don’t do it in those five years it isn’t going to happen,” he writes. 
 
 View Images J35 carried her calf for at least 17 days and 1,000 miles, and researchers had worried she'd endangered herself by expending so much effort. But now she appears in good health. Photograph courtesy Center for Whale Research (Permit #21238) 
 
 Balcomb points to a lack of food as the culprit. “We have long demonstrated that these fish-eating whales are getting skinnier and skinnier, and the death rate is increasing,” he writes on the center’s website. 
 
 “Whales in this endangered population are dependent upon Chinook salmon for their primary food source. Unfortunately, Chinook salmon are also endangered,” he adds. 
 
 Experts expressed relief that J35 survived. As a 20-year-old in her prime, the pod needs her to reproduce. 
 
 “Even without this death, this is a population in crisis,” Atkinson says. “They need our stewardship and support if they are to survive.” ||||| Researchers are keeping vigil over the orca mother for a seventh day. Now she's falling behind her pod. "I am so terrified for her well-being," said researcher Deborah Giles. "She is a 20-year-old breeding-age female and we need her." 
 
 A grieving mother orca is falling behind her group as she labors through the water at about 6 knots, continuing to carry her dead calf in a seventh day of mourning. 
 
 J35, or Tahlequah, gave birth the morning of July 24 to the calf, which lived for only one half-hour. She has refused to let go of it ever since, carrying the infant either by one fin, or pushing it through the water on her head. 
 
 [Update, Tuesday: Researchers searched all day for the grieving orca mother. Then they found her, still clinging to her calf for an eighth day.] 
 
 “Sometimes it just looks like a silver wave,” said Jenny Atkinson, executive director of the Whale Museum at Friday Harbor, which runs the Soundwatch program that is monitoring the mother continuously from a distance in daylight hours. 
 
 J pod, the mother’s clan, has been staying with her and has turned out in force, with more members of the pod by the day staying with her. 
 
 Researchers who work with the critically endangered orcas are concerned for the mother’s health — and ache for her. 
 
 “I am so terrified for her well-being,” said Deborah Giles, research scientist for University of Washington Center for Conservation Biology and research director for nonprofit Wild Orca. “She is a 20-year-old breeding-age female and we need her.” 
 
 Newly shared drone footage of orca mother Tahlequah, or J35, taken Friday as she carried her dead orca calf along the west side of San Juan Island. (Michael Weiss, of the University of Exeter, working with the Center for Whale Research) 
 
 Giles said the whale was in labor at this time last week, and probably was not eating then.”I feel so sad for that family. And for her mental state she must be in anguish. What is beyond grief? I don’t even know what the word for that is, but that is where she is.” 
 
 The calf remains intact day after day, perhaps preserved by the cold water. Every time it slips from her grip, Tahlequah has to dive deeply to retrieve it. “She has to prime herself six, seven breaths to take a deep, long dive to go get that carcass,” Giles said. “What is killing me is when is it going to be the last time? And she has to make that decision not to go get it.” 
 
 To Giles, the sad tableau seems like a metaphor for a region stuck in its own grief over the declining whales. 
 
 “She is stuck in a loop. We are stuck a loop, we are stuck in doing the same thing, expecting to get better results,” Giles said about the declining orca population, and the chinook salmon they depend on. “What we need is going to be have to be massive, unheard of, unprecedented change in order to recover this population.” 
 
 On Sunday, Tahlequah was surrounded by her entire family. Researchers who are with the whales daily have been concerned for her, especially as to whether she is getting enough to eat. “This has to be so hard for her,” said Michael Weiss of the University of Exeter, who with the Center for Whale Research at Friday Harbor was monitoring the clan Sunday as the whales surged alongside her. 
 
 Taylor Shedd, also watching from the Soundwatch boat, said he saw Tahlequah breach three times Saturday evening, and her body still looked healthy and strong. “You could not see any ribs,” he said. 
 
 Tahlequah is a member of the endangered family of southern-resident orca whales, with only 75 members. Every birth matters, and every female in particular. The crisis with J35 comes even as another member of J pod, J50, appears to be starving to death. 
 
 On Monday Shedd and his crew continued their vigil with the mother, sighting her at 12:07 p.m., still carrying the calf. 
 
 “Falling behind group, but J17s (her family line) are 500-600 yards ahead and rest of J pod a mile or so ahead,” Shedd wrote in a text message. “She’s been traveling at speeds up to 6 knots. Observed her drop the calf, swim in a tight circle, breathing about six times before taking a deep dive to retrieve the calf.” 
 
 J35, or Tahlequah, continues to carry her dead calf on Sunday afternoon as other members of J pod, her clan, have been staying with her. (Courtesy of Doug MacDonald) 
 
 The crew’s monitoring work has been stressful, emotional and continuous. Atkinson said she has the equipment for an oil change at the ready for the boat, to quickly service it when the crew comes back in for the night and be ready to get right back out on the water. 
 
 “I feel like a NASCAR pit crew,” Atkinson said. “We need to keep that boat on the water.” 
 
 It has been moving to watch Tahlequah’s family stand by her, Atkinson said. “We believe the pod has been taking turns with this, to stay with her.” 
 
 Soundwatch is, too. “We are respectfully monitoring from a distance, we are committed, we are here to help her through this.” 
 
 In addition to monitoring her condition, the Soundwatch crew is helping to keep boaters away from the whales. The nonprofit has educators on the water every day during the whale-watch season, to remind boaters to keep at least the required 200-yard distance from the whales. 
 
 But this has been a season like no other, as the world watches and holds its breath over the grieving whale and her baby. 
 
 The outpouring of interest and support helps the crew go out day after day, Atkinson said. “We really appreciate the love and support.” 
 
 The Seattle Times has seen an outpouring of reactions to Tahlequah and her calf. Here’s a form for you to share your own with us.
– An orca who spent more than a week carrying her calf following its July 24 death now has some help. Other orcas in the pod swimming through Pacific Northwest waters near the US-Canada border are taking turns carrying the corpse after the effort caused the 20-year-old mother known as J35 to fall behind with labored breathing. Trailing the main pod with improved breathing, J35 was seen with the now-decomposing corpse Thursday in the Strait of Juan de Fuca alongside immediate family members who are keeping her fed, per KCPQ. But "because we've seen her so many times without the calf, we know that somebody else has it," Jenny Atkinson of San Juan Island's Whale Museum tells the CBC. The same pod held a similar display 15 years ago, but this is the longest period of orca mourning on record, per National Geographic. Audio recordings indeed suggest the pod is using calls and whistles perhaps related to mourning. They sound "more like a very urgent call," says Atkinson. "I think that what you're seeing is the depth of importance of this calf and the grief of the mother and the family." It's a tight-knit one: There are just 75 orcas in three pods in the southern resident population around Oregon, Washington, and Vancouver Island, down from 83 in 2016. None have seen a successful birth since 2015. Amid indications a 4-year-old orca might be starving, an expert describes "at most five more years" in which to try to birth viable offspring. Declines in Chinook salmon have hit the population hard, per Nat Geo. Canada hopes to lend a hand by limiting catches of the fish, while experts hope a necropsy will reveal how J35's calf died, per CTV News. Of course, it must be abandoned first.