Killer whales make killing look easy. It isn't. The secret to their success is that they do everything
together as a family. It takes a young killer whale
15 years or more to learn the complicated
hunting techniques and other life skills from its mother. These whales develop slowly
and live as long as us. Thanks to the French scientists who've concentrated
on this one family for more than 20 years, we are beginning to understand
just how much time and effort the whole family put
into teaching their young. This playful little female,
Delphine is already 14. She has one more summer
in which to learn to become a killer. Our family spend
the summer halfway between the tip of South Africa and Antarctica, patrolling the shores
of the Crozet Islands. This inhospitable no man's land, nothing more
than a few small volcanic outcrops, lies in the path of the Roaring Forties. On bad days, winds race unchecked
around the open oceans, reaching 120 miles an hour
until they crash into these islands, whipping the waves into a frenzy. The only respite from this battering
is found on a few sheltered beaches favoured by king penguins
and elephant seals. Any landfall is treacherous
for a young killer whale. It's Delphine. She's in serious trouble. Her cries are already weak. She barely has
the strength to lift her tail. She must refloat herself
or die from dehydration. In her short lifetime, several Crozet whales
have perished this way. At 14, Delphine is the youngest female
in her family. Perhaps it was the rough surf
or curiosity over the penguins which tempted this adventurous female
too close to the land. Whatever the reason,
her family will not desert her. Those pitiful cries
bring them racing to her side. Her mother, Lison, is much larger and risks her own life
by coming in so close. Delphine must do more than cry. She has to help herself. Almost nose to nose,
her mother encourages her. Lison raises her dorsal fin,
showing Delphine what she must do. Slowly, Delphine arches her body, but the surf keeps pushing her in. She tries harder,
hunching with all her strength. Lison wills her on and gradually caterpillar like,
Delphine shuffles forward. They can almost touch. Lison swings her own tail round
to join her daughter side by side, keeping her going. She's free. The whole family gather round to greet her
and join in the noisy celebration. Delphine's free spirit has got her
into trouble many times before. As a tiny calf,
she was stranded and rescued by the French scientists. Since that day, the whole family
have trusted divers unusually close. Scientists are not supposed
to be anthropomorphic, yet they can't help but agree
that Delphine is the most impetuous, wayward and spirited member
of this playful family. Luckily, her mother
is a stabilizing influence. Recognizable by the star pattern
on her dorsal fin, Lison is nearing 50, an experienced matriarch and leader. The other large female, Venus,
is either her daughter or younger sister. At four years old, her calf,
Junior, is still the baby of the family, and they all take turns
at looking after him. The fifth member of this family group
or pod, is Rodion, recognizable by a dorsal fin
that is as tall as a man. He's Lison's eldest son and reached sexual maturity
more than a decade ago. In most other mammal societies,
sons leave the family to avoid inbreeding, yet 30 year old Rodion
stays with his mother. How Rodion avoids mating
with his mother and sister is one of many mysteries which may only be solved
by long term studies such as this. Despite Rodion's superior strength, he always defers
to his mother's leadership. If Lison has a problem child, it's Delphine. Soon, she too will reach sexual maturity and have the responsibility
of a calf of her own, yet there are several crucial life skills
which is not yet mastered. It's high time Delphine
knuckled down to school. This excitable youngster
has to learn to keep silent and listen. She must become familiar
with the natural rhythm of the surf. Then when something splashes, she'll note the subtle changes in tempo. Today, Delpine
can see the penguins clearly. When the water is turbulent, when she's hunting,
she must recognize penguins not by sight, but by their unique
underwater signature tune. Easily bored,
Delphine is already beginning to play. She's lost concentration and something important, something she should have
been listening for, slips through. The elephant seals are returning to their breeding beach
after eight months at sea. They're the reason
several families of killer whales come to the Crozet for the summer. Over the next few months, the seals will keep
a wary eye out for the black blades patrolling the shoreline, but for the moment,
the males have other preoccupations. Only one can be beachmaster. If veteran teeth won't intimidate
those young upstarts, then the
only way to win the beach is to fight. The prize is mating rights
to as many females as one male can keep track of. These females are already heavy with pup. They mated with last year's beachmaster. They won't let the new master near them until their pups are born
and about three weeks old. The veteran may have won the beach
and a harem of over 30 females, but he can neither mate nor feed. He's forced to play
a long, slow waiting game. The killers can't afford to wait. The family need
at least one seal a day to keep going. Calling in a dialect
that's unique to the Crozet whales, Lison gathers her family together and leads them off
to investigate another bay. She spent over 40 years learning
every nook and cranny of this coastline. She must pass
this knowledge on to her family and leads them on a shortcut
through the seaweed. Delphine begins to lag behind. She can't help but be distracted by the gentle sway
of the ribboning fronds. She's playing again. An underwater grotto beckons and she takes a wrong turn. She gives the family contact call. There's no reply. Swimming faster to catch up, she finds herself
in a thick bed of giant kelp. Delphine is well
and truly lost in this maze. She cries for help, but is met by a wall of silence. For a young killer whale, whose world is normally full
of the reassuring sounds of its family, this silence must be similar
to being shut in the dark. Delphine cries again, repeating this specific distress call which will carry even through
the seaweed for three miles or more. Her family were cruising
at around ten miles an hour. They could easily be out of range. They turn as one, so they've heard something. Instinctively,
Lison knows which of her child's missing. They race towards
Delphine's distress signal. For the second time in two short weeks, they're on a mission to rescue
the most wayward member of their family. Lison relies on the fact
that one of the many lessons she has taught
her capricious daughter has stuck: when lost, stay still. Only if Delphine remains in one place, can Lison track
her cries to their source. After two long hours, they're reunited. Despite Delphine's habit
of getting into trouble, she gets a welcome fit for a hero. These whales are extremely sociable. They'll use any excuse to party. Perhaps they rejoice because the danger of losing
one of the family is always real. Only a few years ago,
an adult female disappeared from the group
in mysterious circumstances. As the family celebrate,
Junior tugs at the seaweed. The same weed
which nearly trapped his young playmate. Summer has truly arrived
in the Crozet Islands, but at ten degrees celsius it's as warm as it gets
for the sunbathers on this beach. The beachmaster is still waiting, but his females are at last giving birth. Skuas and sheathbills
gathering expectantly around a female are a sure sign that a pup is on its way. The skuas are tolerated
by the weary female, provided they stick to cleaning up. Before the pup gets its first drink,
it must reply to its mother's call so that they can always find
each other on the busy beach. The females' done the hard work, but the male seems the more exhausted. It's a good job,
someone's disturbing his slumber. There's an impostor in camp. The defeated bachelor males
are constantly on the lookout for a chance to sneak in. The master spotted him. Not one, but two intruders to deal with. It's a rare display of energy and Lison's family is ready just in case. During the breeding season,
the adult seals don't feed, but they sometimes use
the sea to escape from fights. This female
has only just reached sexual maturity. With no pup
to keep her close to the others, she's the chance
the bachelors have been waiting for. The beachmaster wins her, but in his excitement, can't wait. Another few seconds and they'd both be clear
of the dangerous surf. Lison and Delphine dive undercover. Further out, Rodion and Junior
allow themselves to be seen. Tiny Junior spy hops, playing his part
in the distraction routine. The females stalk the seals
in silent formation, perfectly hidden
until Delphine steals a quick breath. The seals, too busy to notice,
are like sitting ducks. Lison's fin breaks the surface too soon. It's dangerously shallow. She dare not risk
her daughter stranding again. They turn away, making sure
the couple can see them departing. The coast seems clear. Perhaps this inexperienced female
chooses the sea to avoid getting caught up in another fight. Lison's battle cry lets the family know
she is launching her attack. She heard it, but a heavy seal
is difficult to manage alone. She's trying to force
the seal out to a depth that's safe for the rest of her family. Only once she's away from the surf,
does she call urgently for reinforcement. Delphine mimics her mother
as she tries to stun the seal. With amazing coordination, the three females
are almost juggling the seal. As one pushes it under,
another is there to catch and toss it to prevent it falling too far. In deeper water,
whales can easily lose their catch. They could probably kill it more quickly. Like a cheetah mother
dropping a gazelle for her cubs, they need to give Delphine
all the practice they can. It's over and Lison calls for her boys. Rodion and his mother
take turns to hold the carcass so that the other can tear at the flesh. Then, while Lison holds the body, Venus breaks off a bite sized chunk
so that she can feed Junior. It's a powerful bond. Four years old
and still dependent on his mother to pop food into his mouth. Finally,
Delphine is allowed her share. She's found a last piece of fin. There's only just enough to go around. Taking turns to feed
avoids noisy squabbling, which might alert
neighbouring pods to their catch. The quarrelsome giant petrels
have no such qualms. Their splashing distracts
the ever curious Delphine. She should be looking
for scraps while she can. Ten minutes after death,
there's nothing left for the sea to claim. Just around the headland, hundreds of king penguins
are making landfall after weeks
of feeding far out in the open ocean. They breed at different times. Some are returning
to feed last year's chick, while others have come
to swap roles with a partner they left behind incubating their egg. After a long separation, finding one's partner
might seem like a daunting task, especially when faced
with over 20,000 lookalikes. Fortunately, penguins don't need
to pick a face from the crowd. They recognize each other
by unique whistle. Luckily, they find
their chicks the same way, for they've now outgrown their parents. Penguin chicks are fed for a whole year
by one parent or the other before they're fat enough
to face the hostile ocean. The elephant seal pups
have only three weeks to build up their fat reserves
from their mother's milk. Drinking around
seven litres of milk a day, they've already tripled in size. The killers are out there, but until the pups
begin to play in the surf, there's little chance of a meal. As dusk begins to fall, Rodion and the others follow the matriarch
to one of her favorite haunts. Seal hunters who came here
in Lison's grandmother's time told of whales
that could be found at this spot. In turn, Delphine will pass
the knowledge onto her grandchildren. That is, assuming the playful Delphine
ever reaches such maturity. This is where Lison takes time out
from family responsibilities. She can drift in the current,
allowing the seaweed to massage her back. Delphine examines the rock face. She must be careful
not to cut her sensitive skin, but a gentle pumice stone like scrub
will help get rid of any itch. These gestures are purely playful. Everyone who has watched this family
is convinced that they come simply to relax and enjoy the sensations. Sometimes,
they spend up to six hours here in a seemingly dreamlike state. Whales don't sleep, but they can shut off half their brain while the other half takes care
of breathing and staying afloat. Tonight,
while the killers are away relaxing, penguins and seals can safely play
and court in the moonlit shallows. The respite is brief. Since dawn, Delphine has been up
cruising the same shallows. She's practicing
the silent listening technique, but this time she's listening for seals. For these adult seals,
the starvation period is nearly over. Soon they'll be leaving their pups
and heading out to sea. The seals and their pups spend more
and more time at the water's edge. Delphine has to learn to keep
her dorsal fin hidden. She positions herself
behind the sand step. Since she was stranded, this is the closest Delphine
has been to the shore on her own. If she's ever going to help her family
and take a seal pup from the surf, she must learn how to beach. Sensibly, the pup leaves the water, but it would have been okay. The family has other plans for Delphine. Choosing the perfect calm morning, the whole family night behind Delphine, forcing her closer
and closer towards the beach. For Delphine,
this must be the toughest lesson of all. There is no escape. Venus stays back to block her exit while Lison, like a parent
urging a reluctant child down a slide, pushes Delphine right to the edge. She's beached. That was relatively easy. Getting off again is the difficult part. She attempts to struggle through. Lison and Venus close in around her, forcing her to lie still and accept the strange sensation
of solid land beneath her body. Finally, she's allowed to try and escape. She must learn to arch
and wriggle her body while at the same time turning sideways
so that she can roll off the gentle slope. She's often heads away
from shore quickly, just in case
Lison has other plans for her. By midday, the surf is up again. The whales have missed the seal exodus,
so they focus on the penguins. Unlike the seals, the penguins are in
and out of the sea all day long. The agile swimmers, twisting and turning
far more easily than the larger whales. Once again, Delphine must master
her family's special technique. Porpoising penguins
have their own unique beat and Delphine picks out the tune
above the natural rhythm of the sea. Way offshore,
Rodion is shadowing the same group. It's difficult for someone who's been at school all morning
to contain her excitement. Delphine shows herself too soon. The boys are ready. They drum the water, blocking the escape to the open sea
and creating panic. Penguins race for the rocks, but there aren't enough to go round. Delphine has a chance
to prove herself now... but she hovers uncertainly. Lison and Venus show her how it's done. The trick is to focus on one individual and not be distracted by the frenzy. Venus makes the first hit, but she doesn't kill the penguin outright, perhaps to give Delphine
the chance to strike. Delphine also has to learn how
to eat penguin properly, otherwise she'll get nothing more
than feathers up her nose. The best technique
is to squeeze the meat out of the body. It takes a lot of practice
to get anything worth having. Each bird provides
little more than a snack. The remains, an empty bag of skin
and feathers fall to the seabed. The family catch up to 25 birds
each time they launch a panic attack, and the bottom is littered
with the carnage. It's the height of summer. Yet in this desolate outpost, whether from all four seasons
can pay a visit on the same day. The sudden drop in temperature is brutal, even the penguins
appear to be feeling the cold. The whales are protected by the more
constant temperature of the sea, but their warm breath in the freezing air gives away their position
to any watching seals. In the calm after the storm, the excited commotion of another
killer whale pod carries clearly. Lison's family recognize the dialect. They know who is calling
and they probably know why. They waste no time giving chase. Unusually, they are led by Rodion. He can race up to 25 miles an hour. The adult females travel more slowly, keeping Delphine
and Junior firmly in their midst. All the pods around the Crozet are small,
with typically five to eight members. Cries like these usually mean
that a pod has spotted larger prey than it can cope with
and needs reinforcements. Just ahead of Rodion, a pod of seven whales
is in hunting formation. The scavenging seabirds indicate that they have
already made at least one kill. They're still calling for help, but Rodion is distracted
by something lying in their way. It's the remains of a Minke whale calf. The other pod must have left it
to carry on chasing its mother. Surprisingly,
Rodion nozzles at the carcass. There are no previous records of these
efficient predators bothering to scavenge. He's trying to pick it up, perhaps to drag it
to the approaching females. It's almost as if
he needs his mother's approval. Lison swims down to investigate... and appears to approve. Recorded on camera for the first time, there is no doubt
that our killers are scavenging. Perhaps this behavior is so unusual
simply because most carcasses disappear quickly into the depths, whereas this calf was killed
in a shallow sandy area. The fact that these killers
changed course to accept a free lunch is another sign
of their superior intelligence. Rather than turn down
a golden opportunity, they adapt their behavior accordingly. During the chase, there were noisy enough to attract
all the killers in the neighborhood. Unwilling now to share
these lean pickings, the family feed in unusual eerie silence. Delphine had to be the
one to disturb the peace. As if to teach her a lesson, Lison drags the carcass
away from her daughter towards the others. Cautiously, Delphine approaches again. This time she keeps quiet. It takes the family another
half hour to pick the bones clean. Thus far,
Delphine has managed to contain herself, but as usual
she's the first to let off steam. Back at the beach, the snow has melted. The adult seals have long gone
and with no parents around to chide them, the youngsters are having fun. Except perhaps for this pup. These pups
have been left to their own devices while their puppy fat
turns into the blubber needed to cope with the cold ocean. With no parent around, there's no one to tell this penguin
to pick on someone his own size. Nor to warn the pup that it's better
to face up to pesky penguins than meet the black blades out at sea. Only Delphine
is close enough to intercept the pup. For once, she's concentrating
so hard she's not distracted. She's practicing beaching all by herself. Soon the pups will be leaving and the opportunity to catch one
will be lost for another year. Next year, Delphine will be old enough
to have her own calf. If she's to pass
this difficult technique on, she's got to get it right. On and off. She seems pretty confident, confident enough to tease
and chase the penguins close inshore. Perhaps in this last summer,
free from responsibility, Delphine simply enjoys playing the child. In the river which flows into the bay, the seal pups have found a safe place
to practice their swimming skills. They too have turned
their lesson into a game. One of their favorite games is to let
the current sweep them downstream, before paddling up to begin again. These joy riders have no idea that every year a few
of the most daring pups get swept out beyond the point of no return. Lison, I've seen it all before and has called Delphine
into position to listen and wait. While the rest of the family
remain hidden, it's the impulsive Delphine
who once again blows their cover. She swims away. If these pups stay on the beach,
they'll starve. Sooner or later,
they have to run the goldblade. Venus gives chase, and Lison closes the trap. The rest of the family are there to help, but there's no sign of Delphine. She has ignored the sound
of her family feeding. Foolhardy as ever,
she's attempting to go it alone. Her aim is good, but she may have gotten more
than she bargained for. She calls for reinforcements. Suddenly, her mother is by her side. Delphine's exaggerated
tail thrash says it all. For the first time, she has provided
something for the rest of her family. After a long childhood,
Delphine has finally become a killer. With her help, the whales will feast well
for the next few weeks. Sometime in the coming winter,
Delphine may well find herself a mate. How will she choose him? Well, she have to tame that adventurous
spirit for a long, serious courtship or do these whales flirt briefly,
mate, then part. These are some of the many questions
still to be answered. For the only bond
which ties the whales to the land, is the seals. When they've gone,
the whales simply disappear back into their element. Our intimate encounter with Delphine
lasts only as long as the summer. Until they appear
around the headland again, we can guess that this close knit family
will keep a careful watch on Delphine. It is only a guess. For more than seven months of the year, we have no idea
what this family get up to. We don't even know where they're heading.
