Why are orcas, which dare to eat great white sharks, especially gentle toward humans?

In August 1973, near the waters around Madagascar, a passenger ship carrying Vano, a 22-year-old girl, was overturned by giant waves. She frantically swam toward the shore, and suddenly a massive dorsal fin burst through the waves—an great white shark.

Vano despaired. But just then, a mother and her calf of orcas charged in from the side and rammed the shark directly. To everyone’s surprise, the great white shark turned around and fled in panic. In the end, the mother and calf orcas carried Vano on their backs and sent her back to shore.

This isn’t the first time orcas have dealt with sharks. In 2017, scientists in the Cape Province of South Africa found several great white shark carcasses washed ashore. The bodies were intact all over—except the liver was gone. The culprit was again orcas.

On one side is the brutality of “gutting and taking the liver” from great white sharks; on the other is the “gentle treatment” offered to humans. So what’s going on with this seemingly “split personality” behavior of orcas? Today, let’s talk about another side of this ocean overlord that most people don’t know.

Orcas, scientifically Orcinus orca, are the largest members of the dolphin family. Adult males average 7–8 meters in length and can weigh up to 5–6 tons; as of now, the largest known male orca is 9.45 meters long and weighs 9.5 tons.

That black-and-white “Oreo” skin, paired with a round, stocky body, makes them look like ocean pandas. A high, raised dorsal fin along their back, plus the English name “killer whale,” adds even more mystery and danger.

But in reality, there are no records of wild orcas actively attacking and killing humans. The only documented case of harm occurred in 1972 in the Gulf of California: a surfer was bitten by an orca, but it was also the only one. By contrast, captive orcas have attacked humans—most famously, the incident in 2010 at SeaWorld Orlando when Tilikum killed a trainer.

Besides that, orcas are also extremely picky eaters—you could even describe them as having an almost absurd level of selectiveness. So what’s behind that?

To understand how orcas treat humans, first we need to see how they treat other animals. When it comes to choosing food, orcas can be described as extremely selective because they only eat the most “essential” parts.

When hunting great white sharks, orcas use high-speed charges to ram the sharks and knock them over. Once the shark is flipped, it enters a paralysis state called “tonic immobility,” completely losing its ability to fight back. Then the orcas precisely eat only the shark’s liver, discarding the rest.

When hunting large baleen whales such as gray whales, orcas take turns blocking the prey’s nostrils with their bellies, causing them to suffocate and die. After they succeed, they only eat the whale’s tongue and lower jaw.

When hunting seals, orcas in Antarctica have even invented a “surfing attack”—several orcas work side by side to create giant waves, pushing the seals hiding on the floating ice down into the water, after which they swarm and attack.

This kind of selective diet shows that orcas aren’t “anything will do” predators—they have a clear “menu preference” of their own.

So is there “people” on that menu? Obviously not. Humans aren’t part of an orca’s natural diet. To them, we’re probably neither fish nor seals—we’re simply not “food.”

Orcas have spindle neurons in their brains—neurons found only in a small number of higher mammals’ brains, such as humans and great apes, and are believed to be closely related to cognition, learning, and social abilities.

The number of neurons in the orca’s cerebral cortex reaches 46 billion, far exceeding the chimpanzee’s 9 billion. Research suggests that orcas have intelligence comparable to dolphins—roughly equivalent to a human child of about 8–10 years old. It’s precisely because they have such high intelligence that orcas don’t behave as savagely toward humans as other wild animals might. (The image below shows the orca’s brain.)

Moreover, orcas have their own cultural transmission. Orca groups in different regions have completely different eating habits. In the North Pacific, “resident” orcas mainly eat salmon; “transient” orcas specialize in hunting marine mammals; “offshore” orcas venture deep into the open ocean to catch fish.

Orcas in Antarctica are divided into four types: A, B, C, and D. Some eat whales, some eat seals, some eat fish, and they don’t interfere with one another. This kind of division isn’t innate—it’s a culture passed down from generation to generation.

Orcas also have their own “dialects.” Different groups use different calls, similar to how humans have dialects. Calves learn hunting techniques and ways of vocalizing from their mothers. Records show that orca groups along the coast of Patagonia invented the “stranding hunting method” more than forty years ago; this high-risk tactic relies on teaching transmitted within families, and it continues to this day.

With such an intelligent animal, it knows what it should provoke and what it shouldn’t.

In 2025, a study published in the journal Comparative Psychology counted 34 cases of orcas “giving gifts” to humans between 2004 and 2024.

The research team came from Canada, New Zealand, and Mexico, and they set strict recording criteria: it had to involve an orca actively swimming toward humans for a distance within its own body length, releasing food or pushing it onto the shore in front of people.

These “gifts” come in a variety of forms: 6 kinds of fish, 5 kinds of mammals, 3 kinds of invertebrates, 2 kinds of birds, 1 kind of reptile, and 1 kind of seaweed.

What’s even more interesting is that after delivering the “gift,” 97% of the orcas stop in place to observe humans’ reactions. If humans refuse, some orcas will push the food back again, and even refuse/decline among themselves more than three times.

The researchers believe that orcas giving gifts to humans is likely an extension of their own prosocial behavior of sharing food, suggesting that they’re interested in building a connection with humans.

Isn’t that “kindness”? What else could it be called?

In fact, the records of captive orcas injuring people are precisely a counterexample that proves wild orcas aren’t inherently friendly in the way captivity suggests.

In the wild, an orca’s activity range in a day can reach dozens of kilometers. But the pools in aquariums are barely big enough even for it to turn around. Also, orcas are highly social animals: females live with their mothers for their whole lives, yet captive environments can usually only accommodate a few individuals, forcing them to coexist with orcas from different ecological types, with constant friction—for example, a tragic incident occurred in 1989 at SeaWorld San Diego, when two orcas from different populations fought to death.

Most famous of all is Tilikum, a captive orca. He was captured in Iceland at age two, witnessed his family being killed, and was then imprisoned for 33 years. He was forced to perform day after day, and he was even artificially inseminated for breeding—his mental state had long since collapsed. In 2010, he killed a trainer. The documentary Blackfish recorded his story, and once it aired, it sparked reflection around the world. After all, the captive orca’s average life expectancy median is only 6.1 years, while wild orcas can live to 50–90 years.

And Tilikum died at 36, with the cause being a lung infection—this isn’t considered an incurable disease for wild orcas.

So it’s not that orcas want to hurt people; it’s that people first deprived them of everything. In cramped, suffocating spaces, they’re still forced to be trained to learn all kinds of performances. As a high-intelligence animal, it’s filled with anger toward people—maybe even hostility.

In today’s oceans, orcas are unquestionably the dominant rulers. They can almost outmatch great white sharks instantly—not because of pack behavior, but because they’re larger than great whites and have smarter brains. They know the great white shark’s weak point is when its body is flipped over.

For such a smart marine mammal, being friendly to humans is actually normal, because it has seen how formidable humans are. So in front of people, it tucks away its sharp teeth, doesn’t put humans on its menu at all, and even proactively “gifts” to humans to build rapport. But even so, it couldn’t escape being brought to perform in ocean parks. Even though it brings laughter to many people, deep down it resists—it feels anger—because it knows it can’t fight back against people.