Earn the moniker “Killer,” and you’re probably capable of some pretty maniacal things.

Coordinated assaults on adult gray whales, t-boning great whites to eat their livers, spinning turtles before consuming them, filleting herring before leaving the half-alive remains in the water, just to name a few. These beastly bodies of blubber live at the top of the food chain, with no superior.

This all begs the question—why jump in the water with them? So eagerly, in fact, that my first time around the animals, I sent it off the side of the Zodiac without my mask and snorkel.

There’s a desire to capture an image, of course. And maybe there’s some element of ignorance and trust. One grip around my foot, and I’d find my way to the bottom of the fjord.

In reality, though, the trust isn’t blind.

For all the stories of attacks on ships, there are no recorded incidents of an orca attacking a human in the wild. Herring, on the other hand—well and truly out of luck.

The next logical question is, why haven’t they?

It could be learned behavior—we might not look like typical prey. They also could have deciphered that we don’t offer much nutritional value.

Orcas are among the most intelligent animals on the planet. Some consider them to be the bridge between the material and spiritual worlds.

When you see a bull swimming directly toward you, there’s oddly no fear of what comes next. He glances at you—ten tons of ing past your fins to go about his business, as you go about yours.

Maybe they just aren't that into you.

Or, perhaps, something deeper is at play.

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