Boat-wrecking orcas might only be playing.

Science looks at the much-publicized rash of attacks on yachts and other oceangoing vessels by killer whales and finds the whales don’t really seem to be out for blood — they’re just trying to have a little fun:

Over the past 6 years, killer whales have been ramming boats off the coasts of Spain and Portugal, sinking nine, and parading fiberglass remnants around like trophies. Vessels are frequently towed into shipyards with tooth rakes on their undersides and rudders ripped off, causing millions of dollars in damage.

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Joana Castro, a marine ecologist at the Marine Environment Research Association (AIMM), has found a more benign explanation. Over the past 8 years, she and her colleagues have analyzed seven encounters they’ve filmed during routine surveys of large sea animals along the southern coast of Portugal in their single-engine, 6.5-meter inflatable boat. Orca interactions with the vessel ranged from light touches to full-on high-speed ramming that knocked some students—who’d tagged along on the expeditions—to the floor, says Guilherme Estrela, a skipper and biologist at AIMM. To get a picture of what was happening underwater, brave participants plunged hand-held GoPros below the surface.

In a few videos, the orcas could be seen opening their mouths or blowing bubbles—behaviors scientists often associate with aggression, Castro says. But the rest of the evidence seemed to fit more with the idea that the animals were simply playing: Almost all the actual boat contact was made by juveniles—“teenagers who do reckless things”—and never adult males, Rose says. And the animals’ contact was often simple touching or gentle nudging, Castro adds. Sometimes, they would show their bellies—a friendly posture—while pushing the boats.

Some of the orcas also came bearing gifts. In 2021, for example, 3-year-old Eli dragged a chunk of tuna in her mouth to show the researchers. “That’s supersocial and bonding in their own system,” Castro says. “A killer whale does not do that to an enemy.”

Andre has had similar experiences with Estrella—the one boaters call White Gladis—and her 5-year-old son Atlas, who bears deep scars from a 2025 propeller strike. “If you want to avenge yourself, you don’t bring food, you know?” he says.

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You can read more of the whale-recreation research here, in Marine Mammal Science.