Off the coast of South Africa, a hierarchy long assumed to be fixed has been visibly overturned. For the first time, drone footage has captured orcas hunting and killing a great white shark in Mossel Bay — confirming what scientists had suspected since 2017 but could not prove. The footage, published in the journal Ecology, does more than settle a scientific question; it reveals that the ocean's most feared predator has been displaced from its own territory, and that the consequences for the broader ecosystem remain deeply uncertain.
Orcas Dethrone Great Whites as Ocean's Top Predator Off South Africa
They're caught by surprise and they're basically just panicking.
Mark
So we're watching orcas actually kill a great white shark on video. That's the news here—we finally have proof of something scientists suspected for years?
Mimi
Exactly. Towner had been finding dead sharks with missing livers, seeing orcas in the area, then the sharks would disappear. The pattern was obvious to her, but without video, it was still circumstantial. This footage from May 16 shows five orcas coordinating an attack on a single shark. You see the shark panicking, trying evasive moves that don't work because it's outnumbered.
Luke
But here's what I want to press on—how many times has this actually happened? Towner suspects three other kills that same day, but suspects isn't the same as confirms. And the broader claim that orcas are driving great whites out of South Africa—we have 45 days with no sharks in one bay. That's significant, but is it the whole population or just local movement?
Mimi
Fair point. The displacement is real in Mossel Bay, but Towner herself says it's hard to predict what the larger impact will be. The sharks have to be somewhere. We don't know if they've just moved to other parts of the coast or if there's a real population-level threat.
Mark
Why are the orcas doing this? Is it just food, or is there something else driving the behavior?
Mimi
A marine mammal researcher at UBC mentioned several possibilities—competition for resources, protecting young calves, or simply that the shark's liver is nutrient-rich and makes up a large part of the animal's body. So it's an efficient food source if you can take one down.
Luke
But we should note that orcas have been hunting great whites in California since the late '90s. This isn't new behavior. What's new is that we're documenting it more because we have better video technology and more people watching. The behavior probably predates our ability to film it.
Mark
So the real question is whether this is a localized phenomenon or something that's going to reshape the entire ecosystem off South Africa?
Mimi
Right. And that's what keeps Towner up at night. The coast is the great white's natural feeding ground. If they're being pushed out permanently, we don't know what that means for the sharks or for everything that depends on them being there.
Luke
We should be honest about what we don't know yet. One pod, one bay, one summer. The pattern is concerning, but the long-term consequences are still speculative.
O Pulso
- A pod of five coordinated orcas killed a great white shark in Mossel Bay on May 16, with drone footage capturing one whale consuming the shark's liver — the first visual proof of a kill that scientists had long suspected but never confirmed.
- The great white, a solitary hunter built for surprise, had no defense against coordinated pack behavior — its tight defensive circles, effective against other predators, proved catastrophically useless against orcas working as a unit.
- Shark biologist Alison Towner believes the same pod killed three other great whites that same day, and that two orcas known as Port and Starboard are actively teaching the hunting technique to others, spreading it through cultural transmission.
- After the May 16 attack, great whites vanished from Mossel Bay for 45 days; another carcass later washed ashore, and the area has since remained empty — the displacement is measurable, but where the sharks have gone and whether they can survive elsewhere is unknown.
- The footage forces a reckoning: if orcas continue displacing great whites from their natural feeding grounds, the cascading effects on the South African coastal ecosystem may be profound and irreversible.
Off the coast of South Africa, a hierarchy long assumed to be fixed has been visibly overturned. For the first time, drone footage has captured orcas hunting and killing a great white shark in Mossel Bay — confirming what scientists had suspected since 2017 but could not prove. The footage, published in the journal Ecology, does more than settle a scientific question; it reveals that the ocean's most feared predator has been displaced from its own territory, and that the consequences for the broader ecosystem remain deeply uncertain.
For years, shark biologist Alison Towner had been assembling a story she couldn't quite prove. Carcasses washed ashore with livers missing. Orcas appeared in the waters. Then the great white sharks vanished. The pattern was clear, but the evidence wasn't — until May 16, when a pod of five orcas attacked a great white in Mossel Bay and a helicopter and drone captured every moment.
The footage is unambiguous. The shark, caught alone, swam in tight defensive circles — a maneuver that works against other predators but fails against coordinated hunters. Within minutes, one orca tore into the carcass and consumed a large section of the liver. Towner, a PhD candidate at Rhodes University, watched the video and felt the weight of years of suspicion finally confirmed. "As haunting as it is to see the behaviour," she said, "one can't help but be awed by it as well."
The scientific case had been building since 2017, built from torn bodies, missing organs, and the eerie correlation between orca sightings and shark disappearances. The new footage, analyzed in the journal Ecology, shows exactly why the great white loses: it hunts alone, it doesn't coordinate, and when surprise turns to panic, there is no backup. "I always refer to the orcas as being like the wolves of the ocean," Towner said. "They've got teamwork. The white sharks are on their own."
The irony is not lost on anyone. Great whites have long held the title of the ocean's apex predator — feared, revered, iconic. Orcas carry the softer cultural image of theme parks and children's films. Yet it is the orca that has knocked the great white "off the top pedestal," as Towner put it, and appears to be spreading that knowledge. She believes two orcas, Port and Starboard, originated the technique and are now teaching it to others in the pod — a form of cultural transmission with potentially far-reaching consequences.
The sharks are responding the only way they can: by leaving. After the May 16 attack, no great whites were seen in Mossel Bay for 45 days. They began to return, then another carcass appeared, and the bay has since remained empty. Where the displaced sharks have gone, and whether they can sustain themselves elsewhere, are open questions. "How many more times can it happen before the entire population is displaced?" Towner asked. It is a question that reaches beyond two species — into the unknown territory of what an ecosystem becomes when its apex predator is driven from home.
For years, shark biologist Alison Towner had collected the fragments of a story she couldn't quite prove. Mangled carcasses washed ashore along South Africa's coast with livers missing. Orcas spotted in the waters. Then, mysteriously, the great white sharks vanished. The pattern was there, but the smoking gun wasn't—until May 16, when a pod of five orcas attacked a great white shark in Mossel Bay, and a helicopter and drone captured every moment.
The footage is unambiguous. One orca homes in on the shark, which responds by swimming in tight circles—a defensive maneuver that works against other predators but fails catastrophically here. The shark is alone. The orcas are coordinated. Within minutes, one of the killer whales tears into the carcass and consumes a large section of the shark's liver, the nutrient-dense organ that makes up a substantial portion of the animal's body. Towner, a PhD candidate at Rhodes University, watched the video and felt the weight of confirmation. "When I saw the footage, of course, it just confirmed everything," she told CBC Radio. "And as haunting as it is to see the behaviour, one can't help but be awed by it as well."
The scientific suspicion had been building since 2017. Towner and her colleagues had documented the physical evidence—the torn bodies, the missing organs, the temporal correlation between orca sightings and shark disappearances. But video transforms suspicion into irrefutable fact. The footage, analyzed in a paper published this week in the journal Ecology, shows exactly how the hunt unfolded: five orcas working as a unit, exploiting the great white's fatal weakness. Unlike orcas, great whites hunt alone. They don't coordinate. When surprise turns to panic, they have no backup. "I always refer to the orcas as being like the wolves of the ocean," Towner said. "They've got the edge because they're coordinated and they've got teamwork, whereas the white sharks are on their own. They're caught by surprise and they're basically just panicking."
The irony is sharp. Orcas are dolphins, not whales, and they carry the cultural baggage of Free Willy and Sea World—cute, charismatic, almost cuddly in the popular imagination. But they are apex predators in the truest sense: prolific, efficient, and ruthlessly effective at what they do. Great whites, by contrast, have held the title of ocean's top predator for decades, feared and revered. That hierarchy has shifted. "White sharks have this very apex predator role, and they're quite feared," Towner said. "But now they've definitely been knocked off the top pedestal here."
The hunt caught on film appears to be part of a larger campaign. Towner suspects the same orca pod killed three other great whites that same day. And she believes the behavior originated with two orcas known as Port and Starboard—Starboard being the one visible in the footage consuming the shark's liver. These two appear to be teaching other orcas the technique, a form of cultural transmission that spreads the hunting knowledge through the pod.
The sharks are responding the only way they can: by leaving. After the May 16 attack, no great whites appeared in Mossel Bay for 45 days. They began to return in summer, but then another mangled carcass washed ashore. Since then, the area has remained empty of great whites. The displacement is real and measurable, but its full scope remains unknown. Towner worries about what happens next. The South African coast is the natural feeding ground for these sharks. Where they've gone, and whether they can sustain themselves elsewhere, are open questions. "How many more times can it happen before the entire population is displaced?" she asked. "It's really hard to predict what will happen."
This behavior is not entirely new to science. Researchers documented orcas hunting great whites in California as far back as the late 1990s, and a 2019 study showed that great whites flee when orcas arrive in their waters. But the South African footage is the first clear visual record of a kill, the first time the full sequence has been captured and analyzed. It transforms a suspected pattern into documented fact, and it raises a question that extends far beyond these two species: what happens to an ecosystem when its apex predator is displaced from its home?
Citações Notáveis
When I saw the footage, of course, it just confirmed everything. And as haunting as it is to see the behaviour, one can't help but be awed by it as well.— Alison Towner, shark biologist at Rhodes University
White sharks have this very apex predator role, and they're quite feared. But now they've definitely been knocked off the top pedestal here.— Alison Towner
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