there’s no such thing as “they didn’t hear it.” I responded
to Thad’s question, “That’s a surefire way to get your ass chewed.” I had passed the
test. Continuing to provide direction when that direction is being purposely ignored
is one of the fastest ways to ignite frustration and aggression in any animal (or
person), especially a killer whale.
Yet again, this was another sloppy area in Keiko’s interactions with his trainers.
They would frequently blow their whistle, in effect, telling Keiko, “Great, that’s
it … now, come back and I’ve got a great reward for you.” Often, when Keiko would
not respond to the bridge, they would promptly bridge again, insisting that his hearing
was bad. Highly unlikely; it was more probable that this “two orthree bridge requirement” was the result of Keiko training (or ignoring) his trainers.
Any other whale might well launch itself bodily out of the water, gaping mouth twisting
to the side as if to grab the unsuspecting offender or at the least knocking them
aside in a sweep of its head. Having witnessed this exact response to repeated bridging
before, I can submit with confidence that once is enough to learn the lesson. I will
never underestimate just how remarkably swift a large killer whale can be when driven
to the point of frustration. If Keiko hadn’t been so satiated with food, or been so
numbed by this practice throughout his learning history, he might have reacted to
these situations like a normal male killer whale and left the trainer with knocking
knees for an hour or two.
These examples of conflicting signals, along with many others, were circumstances
that should have totally pissed him off, yet the lack of aggression or even precursors
to aggressive behavior from Keiko revealed another discomforting trait of this whale
charged with surviving the wild: it was as if he had been “dumbed down” or dulled
to the point of complete apathy.
In large part, the driving force behind Keiko’s lethargy was not only poor training,
it was compounded by diet. Because Dr. Cornell had mandated that a top priority for
Keiko’s release was to fatten him up, Keiko was completely satiated with food. Keiko
simply didn’t care whether food was offered or not. The only motivation to interact
with his trainers was the stimulation they provided, and the break it offered him
from an otherwise monotonous day, void of social contact with other whales, stimulating
mental challenges or any other form of variability aside from changes in weather or
current. Occasionally, when Keiko would not even care to come over, the staff would
literally throw herring at him to make sure he got all his food for the day. Often,
without moving, Keiko would just watch the herring sink to the bottom.
Imagine being so satiated after a Thanksgiving dinner that a nap is all that holds
interest. Friends call and want to toss the Frisbee. Boredom begs for agreement, but
motivation is stifled by an overbearing impulse to lie motionless, driftingin and out of consciousness. This was Keiko. This was the whale destined for release
to a supremely unforgiving environment.
His fattened and lethargic condition had become a smoke screen that clouded any true
evaluation of the animal. First, we would need to get Keiko on a workout regimen.
We needed to get him moving and burning more calories, but not necessarily dropping
his food intake in the process. Doing both at the same time might trigger the opposite
result for which we were aiming. A drop in fuel at the same time we turned up his
calorie burn could push his body to store more reserves, more fat. Robin and I couldn’t
contain our need to discuss the issues and eventually allowed ourselves to share our
observations openly in front of and with the staff. During the following weeks and
months, we would find ourselves constantly educating the staff on the basics of
Douglas E. Schoen, Melik Kaylan