In the azure waters off South Africa’s Western Cape, a chilling discovery washed ashore in 2017: the mutilated carcasses of five great white sharks, their bodies marred by precise puncture wounds near their pectoral fins. Ranging from nine to 16 feet, these ocean titans were missing a single, vital organ—their liver. This gruesome scene unveiled a startling shift in the ocean’s hierarchy, where one apex predator, the killer whale, has mastered the art of hunting another: the great white shark.
The great white shark, a marvel of evolution, has long reigned as one of the sea’s most fearsome predators. With jaws lined with rows of razor-sharp, ever-replacing teeth and the ability to detect a single drop of blood in 25 gallons of water from three miles away, great whites are built for the kill. They can surge toward prey at 35 mph in short bursts, striking with devastating force. Yet, despite their prowess, they’ve met their match in an even more formidable foe: the orca, or killer whale.
Orcas, growing up to 30 feet long compared to the great white’s maximum of just over 20 feet, are powerhouses of the deep. Their long, streamlined bodies and powerful tails allow them to sustain speeds of up to 30 mph, outlasting the shark’s brief bursts of speed. But it’s not just their physicality that makes orcas deadly—it’s their intelligence and strategy.
The puncture wounds on the South African sharks told a story of precision. Each bite was strategically placed to extract the liver, a nutrient-packed organ rich in oils and fats, making it a high-energy prize in the ocean. Scientists quickly identified the culprit: killer whales. Unlike great whites, which rely on brute force and instinct, orcas employ cunning tactics.
In a remarkable 1997 sighting off San Francisco, an orca was observed ramming a great white, stunning it with the force of the blow. The orca then flipped the shark upside down, inducing a state called tonic immobility, where sharks become paralyzed and unable to breathe, effectively drowning. This calculated maneuver allows orcas to neutralize one of the ocean’s deadliest creatures with ease.
Orcas, often hunting in coordinated pods like wolves, showcase remarkable intelligence. Their ability to work together and exploit the great white’s vulnerabilities makes them a step above in the predator hierarchy, as George Burgess, Director of the International Shark Attack File at the Florida Museum of Natural History, noted: “Those that say sharks are apex predators, that’s not the case. The killer whales are a step above.”
The question lingers: why do orcas go to such lengths to hunt great whites, animals so dangerous their jaws can sever limbs in a single bite? The answer lies in the liver. A great white’s liver is disproportionately large and brimming with oil and fats, offering a concentrated source of energy. While orcas have a varied diet—feasting on fish, seals, seabirds, and even the occasional moose—they seem to have developed a taste for this nutrient-dense organ. By targeting the liver, stomach, or testes, orcas maximize their caloric intake with minimal effort, leaving the rest of the shark’s less appealing flesh behind.
This behavior isn’t new. Accounts of orcas preying on sharks date back decades, but the frequency of these attacks appears to be rising. Some scientists point to environmental changes as a cause. Restrictions on fishing have bolstered shark populations, while global warming has expanded their habitable ranges, bringing great whites and orcas into closer contact. Alternatively, orcas may be turning to sharks as a fallback if their usual prey, like seals or other marine mammals, becomes scarce.
The good news for great whites is their ability to adapt. Sharks have been observed fleeing areas when orcas are nearby, suggesting they’re learning to avoid their new nemesis. This cat-and-mouse game underscores the ever-shifting balance of power in the ocean, where even the mightiest predators must evolve to survive.
For humans, there’s little cause for alarm. Both great whites and orcas rarely target people, reserving their ferocity for each other. Yet the gruesome truth remains: in the deep, where survival is a brutal dance, killer whales have mastered the art of hunting great white sharks—not for sport, but for the rich, oily prize of their livers.