A recent orca encounter sparks memories of a puzzling 1980s mystery. Could it be returning?

Subscribe to CNN’s Wonder Theory science newsletter for insights into the vast cosmos, with updates on groundbreaking discoveries, scientific progress, and more.

Fashion trends may be fleeting, and as it turns out, even killer whales aren't immune to style experimentation.

Back in 1987, a group of killer whales off the northwest coast of North America adopted an unusual fashion statement, balancing dead salmon on their heads for weeks. Recently, a male orca named J27, also called “Blackberry,” was spotted in Washington’s Puget Sound sporting a salmon on his head, prompting many to speculate that this peculiar trend had made a comeback.

However, while this salmon-wearing display caused widespread intrigue, Stephanie Raymond, the program manager at the Orca Network—a nonprofit focused on orca awareness and conservation in the Pacific Northwest—cautioned that “there have been no additional recent instances of orcas wearing salmon hats.”

Orcas visit Puget Sound annually, and during their stay, “there is no shortage of watchful eyes or cameras documenting their presence, not to mention research vessels meticulously observing them,” Raymond explained in an email to CNN. She further noted that if the quirky practice of salmon headgear was making a comeback, “there would be plenty of evidence to confirm it.”

On October 25, photographer Jim Pasola captured a striking image of J27 adorned with his “fish hat” from Point No Point, located at the tip of a peninsula along Puget Sound. Four days later, the Orca Network shared the photograph in its Whale Sighting Report email. At the time, J27 and his pod were actively hunting salmon, and the male orca briefly surfaced with a fish balanced on his head.

“I first saw the image in our weekly email summary of sightings,” said Howard Garrett, a former orca researcher and cofounder of the Orca Network. “That photograph was a standout—just one lucky shot.”

About ten days later, another orca was spotted near a team of researchers in Puget Sound, also wearing a salmon on its head. Dr. Deborah Giles, a member of the research team and the science and research director of Wild Orca, recalled the encounter vividly.

“We use a scent detection dog aboard our vessel to locate floating orca scat,” Giles explained. During a monitoring session, the team was intensely focused ahead of their vessel when the unexpected happened.

“I was steering the boat,” Giles said. “When I glanced over my shoulder, I noticed an orca with its head above water, a limp salmon draped on top.”

Because the orca’s dorsal fin and saddle patch were submerged, Giles could not verify if it was J27. But she was certain of one thing: “The fish was absolutely there.” She managed to call out to her team, exclaiming, “Fish-on-head behind us!” but before anyone else could catch a glimpse, the orca—and its strange hat—disappeared beneath the waves.

A nautical nod to the past

To Garrett, the sight of J27 with a salmon brought back memories of 1987, when several Southern Resident orcas began flaunting salmon on their heads in what appeared to be a playful display of pride.

The Southern Residents are a unique population of killer whales split into three family units or “pods”: J pod, K pod, and L pod. Unlike other orcas that wander all over the globe, these whales largely stay together, gathering in Puget Sound every summer and fall to feast on salmon.

While other killer whales consume a wide variety of marine life, including fish, octopus, and even marine mammals, Southern Resident orcas rely almost entirely on salmon for their diet. This population is critically endangered, with only 72 individuals spread across all three pods, Garrett remarked.

In 1987, a female from K pod began carrying a fish on her head, after which other orcas quickly followed suit, according to Giles, who personally witnessed the unusual behavior.

“1987 was the first year I observed these whales myself,” Giles recalled. “We frequently saw them along the west coast of San Juan Island, foraging daily. Salmon hats were definitely a thing back then.”

The behavior caught on among other Southern Residents over a span of five to six weeks before it abruptly stopped. While sporadic instances occurred the following summer, the phenomenon essentially vanished, researchers noted in a 2004 paper published in *Biological Conservation*.

In 2019, the “salmon hat” behavior resurfaced during a survey conducted by Ocean Wise, a conservation organization. Researchers captured footage of a young male orca known as A99 “Alder” from the Northern Resident population toying with a fish on his head. Drone video showed Alder’s mother offering the fish multiple times before Alder, disinterested in eating it, chose to balance it on his face instead.

Play or purpose?

Even if J27’s “fish hat” moment doesn’t signal a resurgence of the 1987 trend, the question remains: why do orcas partake in this behavior? According to Garrett, it could be as simple as playfulness. During October, the Southern Residents had an abundance of salmon in Puget Sound, possibly leading to some lighthearted interactions with their food.

“It’s like a celebration,” Garrett explained. “They had so much to eat, and they were just having fun. I think that was the case in 1987 too—it was probably about joy in the abundance of their prey.”

Still, there may be a practical reason behind this behavior. Giles suggested that orcas could be storing the fish on their heads to save it for later or to share it with another member of their pod.

“Orcas are known for cooperative hunting and sharing their catch,” she said. “They’ll divide a single salmon into portions and share it among their family members.” Known for their strong social ties and group-oriented behaviors, Southern Residents often display rituals that strengthen their bonds, such as elaborate greetings. When food is plentiful, adorning a dead salmon as a temporary “hat” could serve as both a playful and social act of sharing, Giles noted.

Garrett echoed this sentiment, pointing out how tightly knit the Southern Residents are. “When one of them wears a fish like that, it becomes a social event,” he said. “In such a community, it’s not surprising that the behavior spread to other pods.”

Mindy Weisberger writes about science and has contributed to *Live Science*, *Scientific American*, and *How It Works* magazine.