Unlike anything I’ve seen: why this whale season has marine scientists puzzled

Unlike anything I’ve seen: why this whale season has marine scientists puzzled

Whales never cease to amaze me.

After nearly two decades of studying these majestic mammals, I’ve learnt every whale season is slightly different. Each migration along Australia’s east coast varies in its timing and the number of whale sightings.

But the 2026 whale season is unlike any other I’ve witnessed. Low humpback whale numbers and rare encounters with elusive false killer whales are just two reasons why.

Humpbacks changing patterns

Every year, humpback whales embark on one of the longest migrations of any mammal. After feeding on Antarctic krill throughout the southern hemisphere summer, they start travelling north between April and May. By the end of November, most have returned south again.

During their journey, whales socialise, compete and even sing. They perform courtship and mating behaviours, with female whales giving birth to and nursing calves as they travel.

For Indigenous Australians, the humpback whale migration is an ever-evolving songline, a word Indigenous Australians use to describe cultural pathways that connect traditional sites. Through this songline, older, more experienced whales share knowledge with younger whales, helping the next generation adapt to changing ocean conditions, including warming sea temperatures and changes in sea ice.

Two women holding binoculars look out at the ocean on a sunny day.
Citizen scientists undertaking whale surveys. Humpbacks and High-rises, CC BY-NC

Read more: Sex, birth and whalesong: life on the humpback highway


Not a normal season

This whale season has been unusual for two main reasons.

Dwindling numbers

In the waters off eastern Australia, humpback whales have travelled much further away from the coast this year. On Queensland’s Sunshine Coast, whale-watching operators have observed distant offshore migrations and noticeably less surface activity. Similar reports have come from Coffs Harbour and the Whitsundays.

Operators have also seen fewer whales in Western Australia than previous years. The annual whale census, conducted each June at Cape Naturaliste in WA, indicated a sharp drop in whale numbers of up to 60% and high number of strandings.

A man sits in a boat on the ocean on a fairly cloudy day.
The author tagging whales as part of recent research. Olaf Meynecke

This seems to be the case among other humpback whale populations in the southern hemisphere. Researchers in northern Colombia recorded exceptionally low whale numbers outside the August peak, with mothers and calves particularly scarce later in the season. In French Polynesia, scientists observed fewer whales across multiple island populations.

One researcher from the Cook Islands reported remarkably low whale sightings, abnormal weather patterns and even an unusually early cyclone. She described 2026 as the most unusual season she’s experienced in her nearly three decade-long career.

These observations are largely anecdotal, recently shared among a group of about 100 whale researchers. But when scientists working across multiple ocean basins start reporting similar patterns, this is a sign of changing ocean conditions.

Record entanglements

The number of whale entanglements has risen by 20%, from about 50 in 2025 to nearly 60 this year. Whales can get entangled in man-made materials floating in the ocean, such as fishing gear and shark nets.

This problem isn’t unique to Australia. Along the eastern United States, 31 large whale entanglements have also been reported during 2026 so far.

Some whales can free themselves or are lucky to be one of those disentangled by trained response teams, which often perform dangerous rescue operations.

However, many entangled whales are never relocated, leaving us wondering if they survived or died from long-term injuries. Improved tracking technology, including satellite tags, drones and acoustic monitoring, could help us assess the health and recovery of entangled whales.


Read more: More whales are getting tangled in fishing gear and shark nets. Here’s what we can do


Spotting false killer whales

Another observation is puzzling marine scientists.

In early August, our research team onboard a Sea World Foundation vessel was looking for humpback whales off Queensland’s Gold Coast. We noticed some large, dark dorsal fins in the distance and soon realised hundreds of false killer whales were heading our way. Just six weeks later, we encountered another group of about 50 false killer whales having a feeding frenzy near the same place.

False killer whales are an elusive toothed whale from the dolphin family, which mainly feeds on fish and squid. These whales are more closely related to pilot whales than killer whales, with their name coming from the fact their skulls and teeth look similar to those of orcas.

It’s extremely unusual to encounter two groups of false killer whales, particularly in such large numbers, within a few hundred metres of a major coastal city. This could indicate they are searching for different types of prey or in different places due to changing ocean conditions or broader ecosystem dynamics.

False killer whales and bottlenose dolphins.

So, what can we do?

The strange 2026 season points to the need for a more collaborative, coordinated approach to monitoring whales across Australia’s coast and the southern hemisphere. Currently, most whale research relies on volunteer organisations and donations.

Practically, this involves combining whale sighting reports with data from acoustic monitoring, satellite tracking and oceanographic studies, as well as Indigenous knowledge. Together, this data will help us understand if these trends are short-term anomalies or signs of a more persistent shift in whale behaviour.

To prevent further whale entanglements, governments should improve reporting systems, expand rescue teams and invest in technologies that allow scientists to monitor whales after release. Historically, government agencies have offered scarce funding for whale research, but these captivating mammals are still in urgent need of protection.

A researcher gets up and close with a whale, while sitting on a boat in the ocean.
The author gets up and close with a whale. Olaf Meynecke

Read more: Weeping whales: why one humpback whale mother stayed beside her dead newborn


The Conversation

Olaf Meynecke receives funding from the Whales and Climate Research Program through a private charitable trust and is a board member of the not-for-profit organisation Humpbacks and Highrises Inc.

Climate change is killing the plants of Ulur?u-Kata Tju?a. An?angu traditional owners are concerned

Climate change is killing the plants of Ulur?u-Kata Tju?a. An?angu traditional owners are concerned

Sabina Aitken

When we hear that climate change is damaging natural environments, it conjures images of rising seas eroding coastlines, or heatwaves bleaching the Great Barrier Reef. But what about deserts?

In Australia’s red heart, the World Heritage-listed Ulur?u-Kata Tju?a National Park hosts a spectacular array of unique plants and animals, admired by visitors from around the world. This week marks the 41st anniversary of the official handback of Ulur?u-Kata Tju?a to An?angu, its traditional custodians.

As joint managers of Ulur?u-Kata Tju?a with Parks Australia, An?angu bring tens of thousands of years of accumulated knowledge to caring for these lands. But
lately, the local plants – and the animals that depend on them – are dying.

An?angu Mu?itjulu Mala Ranger Natalie Ray explains:

When we go out to look around, we see the numbers going down. We don’t know
what’s going on in other places in Australia or around the world, but we can see our plants and animals suffering.

What is climate change doing to this special place?

A group of people walk through the desert looking at plants.
Participants in a drought workshop. Vicki Martin

Drought and soaring temperatures

Between 2018 and 2021, the most severe drought on record unfolded at Ulur?u-Kata Tju?a. While there are earlier records of very severe droughts – in the 1880s and mid-1950s to mid-60s – there is a key difference. Temperatures this century are much higher, bringing longer, hotter and more frequent heatwaves than any other period in recorded human history.

These hot droughts pose a serious risk to plants. Following record-breaking heatwaves in 2019-20, An?angu witnessed mass mortality of usually robust plants such as kurkar?a or desert oak, Allocasuarina decaisneana, wanar?i or mulga, Acacia aneura, and pukar?a or desert heath myrtle, Aluta maisonneuvei.

In 2020, Parks Australia and the An?angu community held a workshop to talk about
climate change, and concerns were raised about the effects of hot droughts. Since then, An?angu have been working with scientists from Parks Australia, CSIRO and a range of universities to determine how climate change is affecting plants at Ulur?u-
Kata Tju?a. The Mu?itjulu Mala Rangers have been an important part of this
partnership.

As Anangu elder Malya Teamay from the Mu?itjulu community has said:

We’re worrying about this a lot […] we’re here on Country and we can see that things are getting really bad.

Some plants coped better than others. Why?

Using novel 360-degree imaging, scientists and Mu?itjulu Mala Rangers found that plant dieback – characterised by the death of leaves, shoots or roots – covered hundreds of square kilometres within Ulur?u-Kata Tju?a National Park alone. An?angu and researchers co-designed and conducted a series of linked research projects to understand whether different plant species coped better than others. If so, why?

Following the hot drought, detailed on-Country surveys undertaken with An?angu found plant species had died at different rates. While 78% of kurkar?a had survived, only 10% of pukar?a had survived. Our most recent research, published this week, suggests that how plants use water during a drought might explain why some desert species are more likely to die than others.

We found that species with low rates of dieback tended to slow their growth and conserve water in their tissues. Those more likely to die were species that continued to use water for growth during summer, a strategy that might work in mild drought, but can lead to rapid water loss and death by dehydration during severe drought.

As An?angu Mu?itjulu Mala Ranger Michael Swan says:

We’ve been out here observing and learning, working with scientists, seeing that so many of our trees here are dying off. This is happening here at our home, Ulur?u,
Mu?itjulu. We have to take care of our Country.

A large group of traditional owners and scientists standing together in a desert landscape.
The collaborative research team worked together to share knowledge about why plants are dying at Ulur?u-Kata Tju?a. Nunzio Knerr

Profound consequences

An?angu are concerned about what the mass death of plants means for their land. When certain native plants die, it clears a path for other species, often with profound consequences. The invasive weed buffel grass, Cenchrus ciliaris, is spreading rapidly through Ulur?u-Kata Tju?a, crowding out native plant species and
choking waterholes.

Animals dependent on native plants are also feeling the heat, with An?angu observing hardy desert lizards dying and birds dropping from trees during extreme heatwaves.

An?angu are using these shared research findings to inform the management of Ulur?u-Kata Tju?a under increasing climate extremes. But the problem can’t be tackled alone: An?angu, scientists and governments must work together.

As An?angu Mu?itjulu Mala Ranger Natalie Ray says:

We feel that the changes need to be happening right now, that this air pollution has to stop for the sake of our children and the generations to come, so that the Country can remain healthy and strong for them too.’

Many representatives of the Mutitjulu Community and Mu?itjulu Community Mala Rangers have been actively collaborating in this research. This research was largely funded by Parks Australia, with substantial in-kind contributions from CSIRO, University of New England, The Australian National University and University of Technology Sydney.

The Conversation

This research was largely funded by Parks Australia, with substantial in-kind contributions from CSIRO, University of New England, The Australian National University and University of Technology Sydney.

Andy (Andrea) Leigh receives funding from the Australian Research Council and Jan IngenHousz Institute, Wageningen, Netherlands.

Jaylen Nicholson received funding for his PhD research from the Director of National Parks.

Boyd Wright and Nyinku Jingo do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.