Jared Towers was standing aboard a research boat off the coast of Alert Bay in British Columbia, watching a pod of killer whales feast on seabirds. Then something strange happened. A young female orca named Akela surfaced with a limp bird in her jaws. She swam directly to Towers, dropped the bird in front of him, and lingered. Her younger brother, Quiver, soon followed suit. Both whales watched. Then, they picked up the birds again and swam off.

“I remember thinking, did that just happen?” Towers recalls in an interview with New Scientist.

That peculiar moment, back in 2015, was the spark that led Towers and his colleagues to document dozens of similar events in which wild orcas seemed to offer prey to humans, like a pet cat bringing home a dead mouse to their owners.

Their findings suggest that these aren’t isolated oddities. They may instead be signs of something deeper: a cognitive connection bridging two apex predators — humans and orcas.

34 Gifts From the Deep

Towers, along with researchers Ingrid Visser from New Zealand and Vanessa Prigollini from Mexico, analyzed 34 separate cases spanning from 2004 to 2024. Each one met strict criteria: the orca must have approached a human on its own, released an item (usually freshly killed prey), and waited to see how the person responded.

In one case, a young male in New Zealand repeatedly swam up to a researcher with a long-tailed stingray draped over his head. In another, a killer whale in Norway seemed to offer a jellyfish to a diver. Altogether, the whales presented at least 18 different species, including rays, fish, birds, seals, sea turtles, seaweed, even part of a gray whale.

Most of the time, people didn’t accept the offerings. But the whales didn’t seem discouraged. In 76% of the events, they retrieved the item after the human declined, and sometimes they offered it again. “They’re testing the waters,” Towers says. “They’re actively learning about us.”

Are Orcas Altruists?

Orcas, also known as killer whales, are among the most intelligent and social of marine mammals. They live in tight-knit pods, share food regularly, and use coordinated hunting tactics. Many populations pass down hunting strategies and vocalizations across generations, in what scientists call cetacean culture.

But sharing prey with other species? That’s rare in the animal kingdom.

According to the researchers, this behavior may represent a form of “generalized altruism”. This refers to acts of kindness not just among kin, but across species. Similar behaviors were previously seen in primates, dolphins, and even some birds, where individuals appear to act with empathy or curiosity toward others.

“They’re taking something they do amongst themselves and spreading that goodwill to another species,” says Lori Marino, a neuroscientist at New York University, who was not involved in the study.

Some researchers believe the whales may be recognizing humans as sentient beings, an ability known as “theory of mind.” It’s the cognitive skill that allows an animal to understand that another being has its own thoughts, desires, and intentions. It’s something humans develop in early childhood. Some birds, like scrub jays, and primates, including chimpanzees, show signs of it. Dolphins do too. Now, orcas might join the club.

Why Share? Why Now?

Orcas are generalist predators. Some pods hunt fish, others hunt seals. Some specialize in sharks or even whales. That means they often deal with large, surplus kills. “You can just leave it, you can play with it or you can use it to explore relationships in your environment,” Towers says.

The team found that curiosity was a likely driver in many of the cases. In 97% of them, the whales paused to watch what the humans would do after receiving the offering. In some interactions, if the gift was returned, the whale brought it back again — up to three times in a few cases.

This may not be about food at all, but about learning.

“It’s a behavior that lets them reduce uncertainty,” says Towers. That kind of exploration might provide mental stimulation, teach them about other species, or even help build interspecies rapport.

In fact, sharing may be a particularly low-cost behavior for these whales. There’s little risk in giving away excess prey. And unlike on land, where predators like wolves or lions avoid humans, the sea offers space and safety where two highly intelligent predators can meet.

The behavior appears to be unevenly distributed across the orca world. Most of the provisioning events came from populations that hunt near the surface and rely on vision. None came from deep-diving, fish-hunting populations that use echolocation to pursue prey in the dark.

This supports another idea: that visual cues, play, and social learning are important in guiding this orca-human exchange. In 38% of the observed cases, the whales were seen engaging in object-oriented play, such as tossing prey, flipping it, or spinning with it. But this wasn’t just play. The age and sex of the whales varied widely, with adults, juveniles, and even calves participating. Some individuals were even seen making offerings more than once, suggesting a learned or culturally transmitted behavior.

“This may be a cultural trait emerging in certain orca communities,” Towers says. That’s especially plausible considering that several provisioning whales came from the same matrilines (family units led by females).

What Should We Make of It?

This isn’t the first time orcas have engaged with humans. In the past, they’ve cooperated with whalers in Australia, helping them herd baleen whales in exchange for scraps (killer whales are the only natural predator of baleen whales). Some populations have learned to steal fish from longlines, and others have damaged boats.

But sharing? That’s something else.

“Offering items to humans could simultaneously include opportunities for killer whales to practice learned cultural behavior, explore or play and in so doing learn about, manipulate or develop relationships with us,” the authors write in the paper.

However, they caution against romanticizing these encounters or even encouraging them. Orcas are powerful, unpredictable animals, and misinterpretations can be dangerous. But they also argue that such moments deserve our attention. They may be signals of a cognitive bridge we’re just beginning to notice.

Towers isn’t rushing to conclusions. But he’s listening.

“It’s not always easy to interpret what a killer whale is thinking,” he says. “But when one swims up to you and drops a seal at your feet, it’s hard not to feel like it’s trying to say something.”

The findings appeared in the Journal of Comparative Psychology.