Who would dare to challenge the killer whale, an apex predator at the top of the food chain?

Scientists have observed situations in which pods of humpback whales have curiously intervened in orca hunts to protect wounded whale calves, seals, sea lions, porpoises and other marine mammals. What would possess an animal to do such a thing?

Researchers don’t know for sure. Humpbacks may mistakenly think a young whale associated with their own pod is threatened, or it may be that interfering in orca hunts eventually pays off for their own species. Humpback whales may even be intelligent enough to have some degree of empathetic response.

Whatever the answer, there’s some instinctive or evolutionary response that prompts these animal bystanders to intervene.

Humans, of course, live in complex societies, with far more evolved relationships. So what makes humans less inclined to stand up to threats far less dangerous than a killer whale?

Researchers who study ways to reduce bullying look at the third party in the bully/bullied interaction: the bystander. He or she often has unutilized power to end a peer’s torment or minimize the risk posed to others.

If a bully, liar or cheat has an emotional or narcissistic wound so deep that he is unable to change his behavior, it becomes the responsibility of those around him to sound the alarm. When those who know better are silent, they become just as guilty as the aggressor.

As we’ve seen, however, people often don’t speak up when they have firsthand knowledge that someone is endangering or hurting others. There are many reasons for turning a blind eye when an insecure person tells outrageous lies or torments others.

They may include:

1. Apathy. The offender’s lies are so ridiculous and over-the-top that any reasonable person knows he is lying, and it’s not worth the fight to challenge it. The default response becomes to tune it out or roll one’s eyes.

2. Rationalization. Some onlookers are unable -- or unwilling -- to see the stakes of a bully’s bad behavior. This is the camp that says, “Fibbing is annoying.” They minimize the damage of antisocial behavior. They focus on how they might benefit, and ignore the reprehensible means.

3. Callousness. Others simply don’t worry about lies or harassment or threatening behavior that doesn’t impact them personally. As long as someone else is the victim or potential victim, they are unbothered.

4. Fear of the bully. Sometimes a bystander does feel empathy and concern, but is simply too afraid of becoming a target of the bully. They lack the courage to speak up or stand up against wrongdoing, even anonymously.

5. Fear of consequences. There are those who fear losing social standing or facing backlash from others aside from the bully. In these situations, the culture of the institution, whether it’s a school or workplace, often enables and empowers the bully. Many systems respond to reports by positioning the bully as the victim, and the whistleblower as the problem.

6. Greed. Other bystanders are more complicit. They want something from the bully, so they are willing to aid and abet unethical or cruel actions. They stand to gain personally from enabling the bully.

7. Protection. Some people, especially weaker ones, are easily seduced by power. They feel protected by association with a bully. It’s easier for them to be part of a protected in-group, no matter how compromised.

8. Desensitization. Those who spend the most time around a bully become accustomed to cruelty and antisocial behavior. They see everyone around them tolerating it, as well.

9. Meanness. There are some who share the same moral defects as the bully. They are just as ruthless, self-centered, greedy, spiteful or nasty. They don’t act out as much as the alpha bully because they are lower in the pecking order and don’t wield as much power. But they take pleasure in the hatefulness committed in their proximity.

Once we understand and identify what prevents bystanders from intervening, we can look for ways to better engage them.

A child may be too timid or scared to speak up around a powerful bully. That’s why parents need to have some awareness of the social dynamics in their child’s environments: Ask if they witness bullying at the bus stop, on the playground, in the classroom or in the school hallway. Let your child know that you would talk to school officials about it -- even if they aren’t the one being bullied -- and why. Children develop the strength of character to be active bystanders when they see it modeled at home.

We can model that for our kids, and we can also reform systems to be friendlier to whistleblowers, both anonymous and named. We need to continue to glorify the courageous, cultivate empathy and shame the complicit.

We can also learn from the mysterious behavior of whales, and choose to band together in the face of danger.

Preschoolers tell magnificent lies.

Not the boring, trying-to-be-polite lies that many adults tell to spare someone’s feelings. And not the evil lies of someone trying to defraud a grandma of her life savings.

No, 2- to 4-year-olds are still figuring out fantasy from reality, confusing wishful thinking with how things really are. They often lie to avoid time-outs, to make grown-ups happy or to feel good about themselves.

Perhaps the minds of a toddler and preschooler could offer insights into why some adults tell such whoppers. What prompts a grown adult to tell bald-faced lies, especially when the lies can be exposed so easily? When adults are perplexed by the inexplicable behavior of other adults, it can be helpful to consult the experts.

In the case of fantastical lying, the experts are tots.

A recent walk to the park with my 3- and 4-year-old nephews offered a master class in hyperbole and falsehoods. Being a responsible aunt, I ordered them to hold my hands while crossing the street because of the dangers posed by passing vehicles.

“I’m faster than a car and a truck,” the 4-year-old said in response. (Fact check: He is not.)

Perhaps he wishes he were faster than a speeding truck. Maybe he believes he could be faster if he really tried. Or maybe this bit of self-aggrandizing was offered simply to impress me.

We stopped on a bridge over a creek filled with turtles. I asked if the boys could see the dozens of turtles swimming beneath us.

“They are talking to each other,” I was informed. “To make a plan to get the humans if they fall in the water.” (Fact check: There’s no proof the turtles were plotting against the humans.)

It was impossible to dissuade my nephew from the turtle conspiracy theory he had concocted. It sounded like it could be true to him, and he didn’t have a reason -- other than science -- to disbelieve his preconceived notion.

Once we got to the playground, the 4-year-old climbed up a towering play structure. He hung from a rope ladder, peering down at the ground below him.

“I’m going to jump!” he said confidently. He looked down again and reconsidered. “No, I was just kidding.” (Fact check: He got scared.)

Even for a preschooler, the desire to save face is strong. When we started walking back home, he shared details of a recent exploit.

“I got 70 tickets from Chuck E. Cheese. And I got candy.”

This sounded suspiciously like fake news, although he said it very authoritatively. The last time we went to Chuck E. Cheese together, he had less than a dozen prize tickets. This boast could have been a case of exaggerating his wins, or simply misremembering seven as 70.

But his next revelation took things too far.

“I don’t have a shaker because my brother never lets me use it,” he confided, referring to a rattling toy.

His 3-year-old brother overheard and rolled his eyes.

“I let him use it, and he said no,” the younger one retorted.

The accusations flew.

“That is not true!”

“I’m not talking anymore!”

“He’s lying!”

“I have my ears shut!”

“You lie!”

It was difficult for an outsider to discern what was deflection or projection in this brother-versus-brother confrontation. A 3-year-old will vigorously defend reality as he perceives it, and a 4-year-old is no more likely to back down.

But since they raised the issue of lies, I wondered how well they grasped the concept of dishonesty at their ages. Kids figure out early that they can attempt to lie to get out of trouble or to get away with something. Could they figure out a peer’s motives?

I asked the toddler why he thought his brother may have lied about him.

“Trying to make me look like a bad guy,” he said. Bad guys lie, he added.

His older brother maintained his commitment to the truth.

“It’s wrong to lie,” he said. “Because it’s just bad.”

Wisdom out of the mouth of babes.

The school bus packed with seventh graders broke down in the parking lot of the ornate, white stone Hindu temple.

It was already the second predicament of the field trip. And the day had just begun.

I had volunteered to be one of the parent chaperones on this daylong adventure. We would begin at the temple, head to a church, stop at a synagogue and end at a mosque before returning to school. This whirlwind tour of world religions started to fall apart three days before we even boarded the buses.

Teachers had locked down the itinerary two months before the trip. It originally included the Cathedral Basilica, an iconic religious landmark in St. Louis. But the very day the school had to turn in the final schedule to the bus service, the Basilica informed them that a funeral service was booked for the same time they planned to bring 125 students.

Oh, the best-laid plans.

World history teacher Neil Daniels had less than half an hour after school to frantically call nearby churches to find a replacement. The Baptists came through. Daniels juggled some of the time slots to accommodate the last-minute change. He also left a message for the speaker at the Hindu temple, to let him know that we would arrive earlier than expected.

The speaker never received the message.

When we showed up at the temple, we wandered into an empty meeting space. One of the seventh-graders whose family worshipped at the temple stepped up and shared tenets of his faith and their religious practice with the ease of someone years older. Another Hindu middle-schooler sang one of the devotional songs she knew. Their classmates respectfully asked questions about a religious tradition completely unfamiliar to nearly all of them. Afterwards, we walked through the sanctuary filled with murtis adorned with garlands and jewels.

By the time we boarded the bus, it seemed the mix-up had actually brought the group closer together. So when our bus broke down, we piled into the other one, sat three to a seat and continued on our way.

It was a small miracle that we arrived at our next destination just a few minutes behind schedule. The youth pastor at the Third Baptist Church welcomed us into their historic building and talked about the basic beliefs of Christianity. At our next stop, the rabbi at Central Reform Congregation shared the history of the only Jewish congregation located within the city limits. We happened to be visiting on the first day of Hanukkah.

Since we were running late, the students ate lunch at the synagogue an hour later than they normally do. And yet, no one complained.

If you’ve been around hungry 12- and 13-year-olds, you know this may have been an act of divine intervention.

Our final stop was no less dramatic. We arrived at the mosque earlier than the time given to our speaker. She was at the gym when she received the message that we had arrived, so she threw a jacket over her yoga pants and rushed over to meet us. We listened to her explain the steps of how Muslims pray and talked about the commonalities shared among the religious communities we had visited.

Daniels said the purpose of the field trip was to expose students to major religions in their communities, teach them how to talk about a subject not often discussed in school, work on critical thinking skills and discover that they can disagree politely with those who have different beliefs. Some of his students said they didn’t know anyone who was a Buddhist or Muslim, but some of their peers actually belonged to those religious groups. It was also a chance to find common ground.

It seems the point of major religions is to remind us that there is something larger than us in the universe. We control and plan for what we can -- and then funerals come up, buses break down and schedules get delayed. And these challenges can make a journey even richer.

Field trips work in mysterious ways.