Science
Killer whales are killer whales, right? It might be a lot more complicated than that
More than 150 years ago, a San Francisco whaler noticed something about killer whales that scientists may be about to formally recognize — at least in name.
Charles Melville Scammon submitted a manuscript to the Smithsonian in 1869 describing two species of killer whales inhabiting West Coast waters.
Now a new paper published in Royal Society Open Science uses genetic, behavioral, morphological and acoustic data to argue that the orcas in the North Pacific known as residents and transients are different enough to be distinct species. They propose using the same scientific names Scammon is believed to have coined in the 19th century.
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Killer whales, found in all oceans, are currently considered one global species. The new proposed species would mark the first split of the ferocious apex predators, which, if approved, could have significant conservation and scientific implications — in addition to furthering a decades-long quest to properly classify the whales.
The two proposed species may look indistinguishable to the untrained eye, but there are subtle differences in their fins and markings — and many more unseen ones. They don’t speak the same “language” or nosh on the same food. And they have no interest in hanging out with one another, despite often dwelling in the same waters. Most significantly, researchers say, their DNA shows clear distinction.
Transients — also called Bigg’s killer whales — hunt seals and other marine mammals in small packs in expansive waters stretching from Southern California to the Arctic Circle. And they’re not very chatty while they sneak up on prey — they need to maintain stealth. They sport pointy, triangle-shaped dorsal fins with a solid white “saddle patch” behind it.
Residents, meanwhile, stick to fish — primarily Chinook salmon. They love to gab and hang out with the family. In fact, most offspring stay with their mothers their entire lives. Because fish don’t hear very well, they’re free to chatter as they chow down. Residents hew closer to coastlines, from Central California to southeast Alaska, where salmon congregate. Their fins tend to curve back toward the tail and intrusions of black sometimes extend into their saddle patches.
A third type of killer whale roams the Pacific, but less is known about it; these offshore whales live farther out and prey on sharks and other large fish. A recent study found evidence of another, previously unknown group in the open ocean.
Taxonomy, the scientific discipline of naming and classifying animals, is how we break down critters into species. It’s an intellectual exercise that has real-world consequences.
“We’re facing a global conservation crisis, losing species that we don’t even know exist,” said Phillip Morin, the new study’s lead author and a marine mammal geneticist at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s Southwest Fisheries Science Center.
If you think of killer whales as one species — a big pie — then killing some of them off here might not be a cause for concern, Morin said. But if you start parsing out species and subspecies — slices of the pie — then it’s suddenly possible to lose a unique, irreplaceable group.
A portion of the fish-eating resident killer whales — known as Southern Residents — is already listed as endangered in the U.S. and Canada. Salmon depletion from overfishing and habitat destruction has starved them, and only about 75 are left now. But if they’re designated as part of a species, the International Union for Conservation of Nature will assess them (and transients) separately.
Study co-author Thomas Jefferson, a marine mammal biologist, also with NOAA’s Southwest Fisheries Science Center in La Jolla, believes the residents would probably be categorized on the conservation union’s Red List as threatened or endangered, possibly even critically endangered.
About 20 years ago, when Morin first began his foray into the world of marine mammal genetics, he said there was agreement that the taxonomy of cetaceans — which includes whales, dolphins and porpoises — was “really poor.”
Classification of land animals is often done by measuring bones, but water dwellers are hard to collect and store. Researchers don’t have extensive collections of whale skulls in museums from around the world, and it isn’t necessarily ethical to acquire them. They needed other tools — such as better genetics, drone recordings and satellite tagging — which didn’t exist yet.
“The genetics has now finally come to the point where we can do this on a broad scale and get the kind of resolution and information that we didn’t have,” Morin said.
Over two decades, researchers went from analyzing thousands to billions of base pairs of DNA from individual killer whales. The enhanced detail has allowed scientists to “look back through time,” Morin said, and answer questions about which killer whale populations are closely related — or not — and when differences emerged.
Based on their genetic analyses, Morin and his team estimate that transients diverged from other orcas between 200,000 and 300,000 years ago, while residents began to split off about 100,000 years ago.
Only a small tissue sample is needed to analyze killer whale DNA to tell a big genetic story.
“We can actually go out with a crossbow and collect a little teeny bit of tissue from a living whale — just shoot a little dart at it and collect a little bit of skin,” Jefferson said.
Of course, scientists in the 19th century dedicated to describing and categorizing whales didn’t have access to this cutting-edge technology.
Virtually nothing was known about marine mammals of the West Coast of North America in the mid-1800s, when Charles Melville Scammon, the whaler, began meticulously documenting and measuring cetaceans, Jefferson said. (Scammon bears no relation to Herman Melville, author of whale-centric “Moby Dick.”)
When Scammon’s paper from 1869 describing a variety of cetaceans of the West Coast, including orcas, made it to the Smithsonian, he had “every reason to believe that his article would be well received,” according to “Beyond the Lagoon,” a biography of the seaman. He knew things no other zoologist did because of his proximity to the whales and keen eye.
In a paper penned three years later, Scammon paints a vivid picture of killer whales, from their “beautifully smooth and glossy skin” to their “somewhat military aspect,” even including drawings. He recounts a gruesome attack, seen in “Lower California,” by a trio of killer whales on a gray whale and her baby.
The orcas assaulted the pair for at least an hour, eventually killing the younger whale while exhausting the mother. “As soon as their prize had settled to the bottom, the trio band descended, bringing up large pieces of flesh in their mouths, which they devoured after coming to the surface,” Scammon wrote. “While gorging themselves in this wise, the old whale made her escape, leaving a track of gory water behind.”
What Scammon didn’t know was that his earlier manuscript would fall into the hands of Edward Drinker Cope, a naturalist who had a reputation for being overly ambitious and warring with colleagues for credit.
Cope, secretary of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, slapped his own introduction on the paper with descriptions and Latin names of the orcas inhabiting the Northern Pacific.
Because of rules governing the scientific naming of animals, Cope would forever be credited with the names believed to have been chosen by Scammon. Nevermind that Cope probably never saw a living killer whale.
The paper also misidentified Scammon and gave him little credit. When the whaler saw it, he was furious, according to the biography.
“It‘s a really, really strange and very weird and dramatic episode in the history of marine mammal biology, how these names came about,” Jefferson said.
Many of Scammon’s observations turned out to be erroneous. Often he logged differences between male and female killer whales rather than differences between species, said Michael Milstein, a spokesperson for NOAA. But his inquiry set the stage for more rigorous research to come.
Morin and his research team propose using the same Latin names from more than a century ago for the species they identified in their recent study.
The researchers call transients Orcinus rectipinnus, noting that, in Latin, “recti means right or upright, and pinna means fin, feather, or wing, most likely referring to the tall erect dorsal fin of males.”
Residents, meanwhile, are labeled Orcinus ater. Ater means black or dark, according to the study, “which probably refers to the largely black color of this species.”
All killer whales are currently classified as Orcinus orca, a macabre nod to their vicious reputation. Some say Orcinus means “of the kingdom of the dead,” a reference to Orcus, a Roman god of the underworld.
There are also common, or informal names, to consider.
The researchers suggest sticking with “Bigg’s” for transients, honoring Michael Bigg, the father of modern-day orca research.
The team plans to consult tribes who have a connection to the resident whales, including the Lummi Nation and Tulalip tribes of the Northwest, before settling on a common name, according to Milstein.
“They decided not to try to rush it to match the paper, but to take the time to make sure it is done in a way that everyone understands and believes in,” Milstein said.
John Durban, an associate professor with Oregon State University’s Marine Mammal Institute and co-author of the new study, said he supports using the name “Blackfish,” which is used by some tribes in the Pacific Northwest.
Complex rules govern the discipline of taxonomy, and typically a specimen must be designated as a reference point when it’s first named.
However, the original specimens studied by Scammon were destroyed or disappeared. According to Jefferson, one at the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco was wiped out by the historic 1906 earthquake and subsequent fire. Another, believed to have been in Scammon’s personal possession, can’t be found.
So the researchers found stand-ins at the Smithsonian.
Whether the broader community of marine mammal biologists will accept the researchers’ findings — and adopt Scammon’s and Cope’s names — will soon be determined.
The proposal is slated to go before a committee from the Society for Marine Mammalogy, which will vote in a few months on whether to greenlight designation of the species. Jefferson and another author of the new study sit on the committee and will recuse themselves from the vote.
Even today, Scammon has to contend with detractors.
Robert Pitman, a marine ecologist with Oregon State University who was not involved in the study, isn’t “entirely happy” with the names put forth.
The names were conceived “before science, by and large, especially biological science, had any rigor,” Pitman said. “And then the descriptions that [Scammon] puts with those names are just so vague. I’m kind of doubtful that those names will stand.”
Names aside, he expects most marine mammalogists will be on board with the proposed species; many have suspected species-level differences among the well-studied whales of the Pacific Northwest. He said the case for splitting off the mammal-eating transients is particularly strong.
The newly identified species are believed to be harbingers of more to come.
Pitman, who has studied killer whales in Antarctica for over 10 years, said there’s a similar divide between mammal- and fish-eating killer whales in those waters.
There are five identified types, and Pitman thinks at least one will turn out to be a different species. Some look dramatically different.
“And it’ll probably be easier now that somebody’s already made the first step in saying, ‘There’s more than one species out there.’”
Science
What’s in a Name? For These Snails, Legal Protection
The sun had barely risen over the Pacific Ocean when a small motorboat carrying a team of Indigenous artisans and Mexican biologists dropped anchor in a rocky cove near Bahías de Huatulco.
Mauro Habacuc Avendaño Luis, one of the craftsmen, was the first to wade to shore. With an agility belying his age, he struck out over the boulders exposed by low tide. Crouching on a slippery ledge pounded by surf, he reached inside a crevice between two rocks. There, lodged among the urchins, was a snail with a knobby gray shell the size of a walnut. The sight might not dazzle tourists who travel here to see humpback whales, but for Mr. Avendaño, 85, these drab little mollusks represent a way of life.
Marine snails in the genus Plicopurpura are sacred to the Mixtec people of Pinotepa de Don Luis, a small town in southwestern Oaxaca. Men like Mr. Avendaño have been sustainably “milking” them for radiant purple dye for at least 1,500 years. The color suffuses Mixtec textiles and spiritual beliefs. Called tixinda, it symbolizes fertility and death, as well as mythic ties between lunar cycles, women and the sea.
The future of these traditions — and the fate of the snails — are uncertain. The mollusks are subject to intense poaching pressure despite federal protections intended to protect them. Fishermen break them (and the other mollusks they eat) open and sell the meat to local restaurants. Tourists who comb the beaches pluck snails off the rocks and toss them aside.
A severe earthquake in 2020 thrust formerly submerged parts of their habitat above sea level, fatally tossing other mollusks in the snail’s food web to the air, and making once inaccessible places more available to poachers.
Decades ago, dense clusters of snails the size of doorknobs were easy to find, according to Mr. Avendaño. “Full of snails,” he said, sweeping a calloused, violet-stained hand across the coves. Now, most of the snails he finds are small, just over an inch, and yield only a few milliliters of dye.
Science
Video: This Parrot Has No Beak, But Is at the Top of the Pecking Order
new video loaded: This Parrot Has No Beak, But Is at the Top of the Pecking Order
By Meg Felling and Carl Zimmer
April 20, 2026
Science
Contributor: Focus on the real causes of the shortage in hormone treatments
For months now, menopausal women across the U.S. have been unable to fill prescriptions for the estradiol patch, a long-established and safe hormone treatment. The news media has whipped up a frenzy over this scarcity, warning of a long-lasting nationwide shortage. The problem is real — but the explanations in the media coverage miss the mark. Real solutions depend on an accurate understanding of the causes.
Reporters, pharmaceutical companies and even some doctors have blamed women for causing the shortage, saying they were inspired by a “menopause moment” that has driven unprecedented demand. Such framing does a dangerous disservice to essential health advocacy.
In this narrative, there has been unprecedented demand, and it is explained in part by the Food and Drug Administration’s recent removal of the “black-box warning” from estradiol patches’ packaging. That inaccurate (and, quite frankly, terrifying) label had been required since a 2002 announcement overstated the link between certain menopause hormone treatments and breast cancer. Right-sizing and rewording the warning was long overdue. But the trouble with this narrative is that even after the black-box warning was removed, there has not been unprecedented demand.
Around 40% of menopausal women were prescribed hormone treatments in some form before the 2002 announcement. Use plummeted in its aftermath, dipping to less than 5% in 2020 and just 1.8% in 2024. According to the most recent data, the number has now settled back at the 5% mark. Unprecedented? Hardly. Modest at best.
Nor is estradiol a new or complex drug; the patch formulation has existed for decades, and generic versions are widely manufactured. There is no exotic ingredient, no rare supply chain dependency, no fluke that explains why women are suddenly being told their pharmacy is out of stock month after month.
The story is far more an indictment of the broken insurance industry: market concentration, perverse incentives and the consequences of allowing insurance companies to own the pharmacy benefit managers that effectively control drug access for the majority of users. Three companies — CVS Caremark, Express Scripts and OptumRx — manage 79% of all prescription drug claims in the United States. Those companies are wholly owned subsidiaries of three insurance behemoths: CVS Health, Cigna and UnitedHealth Group, respectively. This means that the same corporation that sells you your insurance plan also decides which drugs get covered, at what price, and whether your pharmacy can stock them. This is called vertical integration. In another era, we might have called it a cartel. The resulting problems are not unique to hormone treatments; they have affected widely used medications including blood thinners, inhalers and antibiotics. When a low-cost generic such as estradiol — a medication with no blockbuster profit margins and no patent protection — runs into friction in this system, the friction is not random. It is structural. Every decision in that chain is filtered through the same corporate profit motive. And when the drug in question is an off-patent estradiol patch that has negligible profit margins because of generic competition but requires logistical investment to keep consistently in stock? The math on “how much does this company care about ensuring access” is not complicated.
Unfortunately, there is little financial incentive to ensure smooth, consistent access. There is, however, significant financial incentive to steer patients toward branded alternatives, or simply to let supply tighten — because the companies aren’t losing much profit if sales of that product dwindle. This is not a conspiracy theory: The Federal Trade Commission noted this dynamic in a report that documented how pharmacy benefit managers’ practices inflate costs, reduce competition and harm patient access, particularly for independent pharmacies and for generic drugs.
Any claim that the estradiol patch shortage is meaningfully caused by more women now demanding hormone treatments is a distraction. It is also misogyny, pure and simple, to imply that the solution to the shortage is for women’s health advocates to dial it down and for women to temper their expectations. The scarcity of estradiol patches is the outcome of a broken system refusing to provide adequate supply.
Meanwhile, there are a few strategies to cope.
- Ask your prescriber about alternatives. Estradiol is available in multiple formulations, including gel, spray, cream, oral tablet, vaginal ring and weekly transdermal patch, which is a different product from the twice-weekly patch and may be more consistently available depending on manufacturer and region.
- Consider an online pharmacy. Many are doing a good job locating and filling these prescriptions from outside the pharmacy benefit manager system.
- Call ahead. Patch shortages are inconsistent across regions and distributors. A call to pharmacies in your area, or a broader geographic radius if you’re able, can locate stock that your regular pharmacy doesn’t have.
- Consider a compounding pharmacy. These sources can sometimes meet needs when commercially manufactured products are inaccessible. The hormones used are the same FDA-regulated bulk ingredients.
Beyond those Band-Aid solutions, more Americans need to fight for systemic change. The FTC report exists because Congress asked for it and committed to legislation that will address at least some of the problems. The FDA took action to change the labeling on estrogen in the face of citizen and medical experts’ pressure; it should do more now to demand transparency from patch manufacturers.
Most importantly, it is on all of us to call out the cracks in the current system. Instead of repeating “there’s a patch shortage” or a “surge in demand,” say that a shockingly small minority of menopausal women still even get hormonal treatments prescribed at all, and three drug companies control the vast majority of claims in this country. Those are the real problems that need real solutions.
Jennifer Weiss-Wolf, the executive director of the Birnbaum Women’s Leadership Center at New York University School of Law, is the author of the forthcoming book “When in Menopause: A User’s Manual & Citizen’s Guide.” Suzanne Gilberg, an obstetrician and gynecologist in Los Angeles, is the author of “Menopause Bootcamp.”
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