Killing Keiko (15 page)

Struggling to condition our would-be athlete, we desperately needed more exercise
behaviors. Up until this point, we had only to rely on bows (straight dorsal-up jumps
from the water), fast swims, tail slaps and a couple versions of a ventral or upside-down
swim. We needed more aerial behaviors that would force Keiko to truly exert himself.
Shortly after the second rotation arrived, Brian O’Neill, Tracy Karmuza and I began
teaching Keiko a side breach, a natural behavior to add to his repertoire.

The introduction of a previously unknown and energetic behavior proved to be beneficial
on many levels. By teaching Keiko a new behavior, it stimulated him mentally while
also providing a platform for rehearsing the basics of behavioral modification with
Brian and Tracy.

Brian was about my age, early thirties, and had been the lead on Keiko’s daily care
prior to my joining the team. He didn’t appreciate the bump in his responsibilities
(or freedom), nor did he appreciate taking orders from me. Understandable perhaps,
because unlike the first crew, Brian actually had some zoological exposure to killer
whales before working with Keiko. He had been in the Animal Care department at SeaWorld
of California sometime before joining the Keiko Release Project.

Within the SeaWorld system, there are two distinct departments that interact with
the marine mammals in the parks: Animal Care and Animal Training (veterinary care
being a part of the former). This dichotomy in animal responsibilities had been the
creation of Dr. Lanny Cornell during his zoological dictatorship at SeaWorld. This
same separation of animal roles survives within the SeaWorld system to this day. Animal
Care principally dealt with all medically related management issues and responded
when an animal was stranded on a beach or when a marine mammal in the park was in
need of special care or transport to a new location. On the other hand, Animal Training
was solely focused on behavior and training. The poorly designed separation of responsibilities
effectively created generations of animal professionals, some
of whom lent little value to behavioral sciences and others who were never taught
much in the way of animal physiology.

In the SeaWorld system, killer whales were always the primary responsibility of the
Animal Training department. In Brian’s time at SeaWorld, it is likely his only exposure
to killer whales would have been in the event of an animal transfer to another Sea-World
park or if one of the whales had been seriously ill. Else he would have little to
no interaction with them.

Even so, it was beneficial that Brian had come from the same zoological institution
as Robin and I. It meant that we spoke the same professional language. It also meant
that Brian possessed a preprogrammed dislike of animal trainers; another useful creation
of the “Lanny Cornell School of Marine Mammal Management.” Fortunately, Lanny had
been out of the SeaWorld system long enough that the old Hatfield-McCoy relationship
between the two departments had softened somewhat during Brian’s and my tenure there.
We were able to find that we had more in common than not, and as a result, we steadily
found our way in working together.

Brian was very fit. Despite being a smoker, he worked out religiously and had the
coveted genetics that piss off the average guy. He could workout half the time and
get twice the results. Having been alike in our shared addiction to physical fitness,
our friendship began mostly with discussions about workout routines. But that didn’t
last, as very quickly Brian and I discovered that we both possessed an uncanny and
complimentary ability to goof around. Pretty soon, we were having fun at Tracy’s expense
on a daily basis. When spending twenty-plus-hour days together, day-in and day-out,
it does not take long to get to know a person quite well.

Just as Brian and I were at the peak of our newfound friendship, I was nearing the
end of my first rotation. Soon, Robin would return and after a couple days of overlap,
I was to head home for a few weeks. Brian, Tracy and I were determined to finish training
Keiko’s side breach before handing it over to the next crew.

It was another cold and wet day on the bay pen, the third in a row. After the prior
week’s gorgeous weather, it was difficult to
resist the urge to nap all day in the research shack. Regardless, we had a side breach
to finish, and Keiko was doing extremely well lately, making it only that much more
rewarding for Brian, Tracy and me to endure the bone-chilling dampness.

We were up to almost 100 minutes of exercise a day with Keiko, and he was moving a
lot more in his free time. I was pretty happy with the progress we made in May. We
had accomplished a lot more than I expected starting out.

Tracy was standing to my right as Brian was preparing the food for the day’s first
side breach training session. I took the target pole (a long pole with a buoy attached
to the end giving Keiko a position and “target” to follow) and looked wide-eyed from
Brian to Tracy. Tracy, not being one for subtlety, was never short of a reaction (and
Lord knows I didn’t need an audience).

“No! I am not going to be the target wench again!” Faking a cry she continued, “It’s
Brian’s turn, and I don’t have my splash suit anyway.” The bottom lip came out for
emphasis.

Smirking and with his whistle in his mouth, Brian had already picked up the fish bucket
and was walking away from Tracy and me.

Tracy was so easy. “Mark! I swear … Brian, get back here!”

Laughing, I let her off the hook, “Okay, okay—I’ll do it. You take the B point at
the second position. Brian, what are you going to look for?” This left Brian to work
Keiko.

Brian, deflecting a punch in the shoulder from Tracy, had walked back into the small
circle. “If he gives us one really good one, let’s end it there and rub him down with
the brushes,” he said while chewing the end of his whistle bridge.

“I like it,” I said, hoping it would be our lucky day.

In the past few sessions Keiko’s execution had been solid, but now we needed that
umph
, that energetic push up and out of the water that would allow him to slap his side
down hard on the surface—giving us a true side breach. I didn’t mind the imminent
splash of Keiko’s two-ton landing. If he did it right, I’d gladly be the sacrificial
target “wench,” splash suit or not. To get the
breakthrough the target work would have to be solid. I had always excelled at target
work, and I liked doing it.
Once more unto the breach
!

Brian stepped up to the north pool and called Keiko to the west side of the octagon.
As soon as we saw Keiko respond to Brian’s call-over, Tracy and I ran to our positions.
I was almost opposite Brian, and Tracy stationed herself another quarter way around
the circle to my right. After Brian gave Keiko the signal, I would use the sixteen-foot
long pole with the small buoy on the end to slap the surface of the water letting
Keiko know what we wanted him to do. If he got it right, he would exit the water with
his back (dorsal fin) toward me, chasing the target on the end of the pole. At the
height of his jump, I would snap the target down to my right, and Keiko would “snap”
his head over, putting his body in perfect side breach position.

The snap was the magic ingredient. All our previous approximations focused largely
on Keiko responding tenaciously to the movement of the target. (An approximation describes
the process of breaking complex behaviors into smaller, easier steps or “approximations.”)

The intensity in his following of the target is what turns an otherwise off-centered
spyhop into a full lateral side-breach. (A spyhop is vertical half-rise out of the
water performed by a whale, normally to view his surroundings.)

Tracy’s job was to slap the water ahead of Keiko as soon as he completed the movement.
By directing him to continue in the same counterclockwise path, Tracy was ensuring
that Keiko would maintain a “laid-out” position on reentry, the follow-through. It’s
analogous to a high diver looking toward where he or she is headed on a standing back
flip or a somersault high dive.

Brian assessed Keiko. If Keiko looked uninterested, he would have ended the session.
In order to get the breakthrough we needed, Keiko had to be alert and energetic. It
was one of the reasons that we chose first thing in the morning to “go for it.”

“Brian, if we get it, run over to Tracy as soon as you hear my bridge, so we can all
three brush and feed him!” I had to yell, even across the relatively short distance
of the north pool; the shifting wind could easily steal my words. Brian’s nod was
barely perceptible. He didn’t look at me, but I knew he heard me. I also knew he didn’t
like the “chafe,” but if I didn’t repeat the obvious, he would just as often forget
and stand there as if we hadn’t just talked about it. This was a difficulty I always
had with Brian, when he was “on” he was great and an absolute blast to work alongside.
But when he was off, there was no penetrating that glum poker face or “Eeyore-like”
attitude toward life and everything about it.

Today it appeared that both Brian and Keiko were ready.
Come on Big Man, sock it to me
, I thought. As if reading my mind, Tracy’s giddy chuckles to my right reminded me
of her firsthand experience as the target wench.

“You pipe down over there, missy, and be ready to slap if I bridge,” I chided. Tracy
was somewhat younger than the rest of the staff and constituted the token female affection
of almost every guy on the project. She had long dark hair and was very attractive
in all regards. I rather enjoyed teasing her and usually that meant being boldly rude.

“You miss this, and I’m exiling you to the top of the research shack for the rest
of the day,” I yelled while watching Brian and Keiko. He was ready to send the breach.

“Bring it, Mr. Party Boots,” Tracy yelled back. As Keiko was leaving Brian’s position
with urgency, I thought,
Damn, this looks good
. Then Tracy’s comment resonated, reminding me of how full of forty-degree water her
boots usually got from even the earlier rehearsals on side breach.
Too late now
.

I slapped and waited with the target held low over the water looking for that exact
moment, when he was on his upward run and focused on the target buoy. Then quickly
raising the target high over my head I turned to my right ready to move horizontally
with him on the snap. He was up,
damn he was up
—in that split-second of thought that renders everything in slow motion, I
realized
this was it—he had it—this was going to be huge
. I snapped the target to the right and down to the surface while moving with Keiko.
It looked almost like he had cleared his dorsal fin out of the water … by a lot. I
thought I might have even seen flukes near the surface.

There was that oh-so-familiar thundering “smack” just before the splash knocked me
into the bay pen handrail. That was only the first.

The second-wave splash made sure my boots were filled to the rim.
Holy crap, that is cold water!
I didn’t care, all I could hear was Tracy yelling at the top of her lungs and making
a commotion. Even Brian was whoop’n it up. This was definitely fun—the Big Man got
it. His first full-on side breach, and it was a good one. Wish I had seen it. All
I saw was a wall of water.

As I emptied my boots of the cold water, Keiko was just sitting up in front of Brian
and Tracy on the north end of the pool. Like a child full of newness, he sat high
in the water, almost expectant; his eyes wide and mouth gaping. Tracy shoveled a few
heaping fistfuls of herring into his mouth as she maintained her high-pitched praise.
It was garble to Keiko, but he understood the energy. I joined them and the three
of us began scrubbing Keiko with floor brushes reserved for just this purpose. Keiko
happily obliged, rolling and presenting first one pectoral flipper then the other
and then rolling upside down lest we forget his belly.

He had nailed the side breach perfectly; high marks on both energy and execution.
But more enticing was the clarity of the message given and received. There was no
doubt in my mind; Keiko wouldn’t forget this morning’s success.

We just started work on the side breach less than two weeks before. Yeah, I’ll take
that any day, and twice on Sundays. This is where it’s at … the heart of working with
animals. To present something new, give them the conditions and the clarity to succeed,
step by step … and then to witness the breakthrough and even more stirring, the animal’s
recognition that they’ve got it. It is better than any artificial high I’ve ever known.

E-mail: May 20, 1999

Plenty of challenges surfaced in May and June of 1999; however, for the most part
this period produced positive results in Keiko. He was no longer the sluggish, overstuffed
and lazy whale I had first met. In place of floating by his blue ball or scouring
the perimeter of the bay pen seeking any morsel of attention, now he swam more and
solicited less. And although he wasn’t yet the lean, mean survival machine we aimed
to create, slight improvements in his physique were beginning to emerge. Watching
his responses to the staff and increasing bouts of alertness, I was convinced we were
beginning to see a Keiko that had never before existed. Truth be told, I was not completely
satisfied with the progress; I knew we could move faster. It was only the tip of the
iceberg. In classic fashion I was just finding the rhythm, and it was time for my
rotation home. Though a great part of me wanted to remain and focus on Keiko’s embryonic
transition, the break was equally important for maintaining my own well-being.