understand Keiko, the effort to return him to the wild, and the project’s outcome,
three defining factors stand out above all others: 1. recognizing how learning occurs
and behavior isinfluenced; 2. knowledge of what it means to work with a killer whale in a training
environment; and 3. awareness of the distinctive traits of a killer whale. They are
the only means by which decisions made throughout Keiko’s journey can be weighed against
their impact on his behavior, his choices and the final outcome.
Beyond a story about the invisible forces of nature and learning taking place on the
high seas of the North Atlantic, this is more so the tale of one killer whale and
his notorious journey to freedom. It is about a journey that spans four decades, encompasses
the zoological and animal rights communities and epitomizes the evolution of public
appreciation for the killer whale. Keiko’s story begins long before Hollywood uncovered
an icon in
Free Willy
, or before children around the world recognized compassion.
In order to understand the profound breadth of Keiko’s journey, it is necessary to
begin with an understanding of the industry that created him and, ultimately, how
philanthropists urged Keiko to follow in the footsteps of his fictitious counterpart,
“Willy.”
Whale Killer
Fifty years ago, the general perception of killer whales was that of maniac predators
roaming the seas and ravaging anything in their path. Fisherman hated them for stealing
bounty from their nets. Whalers hated them for devouring their catch as it was towed
alongside their ships. The military used them for target practice from ships and in
aerial simulations. This loathing, along with the public’s false impressions of the
ocean’s top predator, vanished almost overnight following a series of unexpected events
that unfolded in the mid 1960s.
In 1964 a male killer whale named Moby Doll was harpooned by an expedition commissioned
by the Vancouver Aquarium. They intended to kill the whale for skeletal fabrication
and subsequent display in the aquarium. The whale was harpooned but did not die. Instead
Moby Doll lived for eighty-seven days in a temporary Vancouver-based sea pen. In that
short time, he became an international celebrity and attracted scientists and the
public alike.
In 1965 yet another encounter with a killer whale excited public attention. After
a male killer whale had been caught in a gill net near Namu, British Columbia, aquarium
owner Edward Griffin towed him over 450 miles in a makeshift sea pen to the Seattle
Public Aquarium. Songs were written, and a movie titled
Namu, the Killer Whale
was made. Namu died there after only eleven months, believed to have succumbed to
an infection from poor water quality. However, during this time he developed a relationship
of sorts with Griffin and became the first live orca to perform in front of the public.
Seemingly overnight, an industry was born. Killer whale collections for the purpose
of public display began in Puget Sound. But by 1976, due to opposition from environmental
factions and public sentiment promulgated by the death of five whales, collections
in the Northwest were halted. Thus Icelandic waters became the next frontier for killer
whale collection boasting larger populations, a capable shipping channel, and the
indifference of a whaling nation.
The ideal killer whale candidate for collection was usually between two and three
years of age. But determining age was less than precise. Many animals much younger
than two years old were taken. Following an initial acclimation period, graduate whales
were transported to zoos and aquaria around the world. By the 1980s, “themed” animal
parks were located on virtually every continent. Due in large part to unparalleled
intimate exposure, the general public quickly gained an insatiable fascination with
the killer whale.
Science was only just
Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins