Killing Keiko Page 11

  Throughout the day we discussed Keiko, the behavioral science behind our proposal and how it could be effectively implemented against the many logistical and weather challenges in Vestmannaeyjar. The conversation covered every identifiable hurdle, including the limitations of the Behavior Team, some of the existing gaps in management structure and the oddball staff rotations.

  At that time, I would guess Peter to have been in his early forties. Taller than average, he carried a large frame and were it not for his somewhat academic nature, would have been an imposing figure. As it were, Peter was an easygoing guy. He liked to talk things through ad nauseam. The staff liked Peter, but tired of his systematic management style and preferred Jeff if given the choice. It didn’t take but the first forty-eight hours with Peter and the incoming rotation to figure out that this new group was the motley crew, the leftovers after Jeff had handpicked his preferred A-team.

  A massive overhaul to the staff rotation and organizational structure became a priority. Peter had already recognized that a complete shifting of personnel without any overlap was detrimental to maintaining any consistency with Keiko, or any other operational detail for that matter. We conspired to imagine what could be done and what changes would need to eventually take place. The time I spent with Peter, although short in the grand scheme of my time on the project, was integral to getting a foothold on some of the more stubborn operational adjustments that were desperately needed. A kindred spirit, Peter encouraged me to run with the organizational solutions I was just beginning to bring to the table. With a figurative slap on the back, he gave me the confidence and an open door to push on.

  Among the first series of staff changes, I sought to establish a clear structure, a recipe from which the staff could easily implement new daily requirements. This of course involved yet another white board. But before even a daily plan could be erected, some nomenclature was required. We defined each approach to Keiko’s conditioning by session types. Sometimes our intent was simply to create exertion, exercise (much of the time early on). Other times the goal might be teaching Keiko something new or simply encouraging him to interact with his environment. More advanced objectives engaged the use of differential reinforcement techniques encompassing all hours of the available clock. Husbandry, or any form of preventative medical evaluation, formed the final category of overt activity from Keiko’s trainers.

  As we carefully mapped the plan each day, we also meticulously broke down every measurable behavior. The staff was unaccustomed to telling Keiko “no.” Almost anything he did before had been accepted, no matter how lackluster the response or how low the jump. At times, even a complete lack of response to their wanting call was shrugged off as if it had no bearing on Keiko’s future. Mother Nature would never be so accommodating. I was determined to ensure that every demand on Keiko’s energy and responsiveness was met with absolute consistency, no matter who, no matter when. Inconsistency among his trainers would only teach Keiko to discriminate, firstly with the trainer, but later in the context of his environment. So vital was this simple prospect that it kept me glued to the bay pen day or night in supervision of all applied conditioning.

  Apart from direct interactions, we began to see the negative space—the time and space between training sessions. In this undiscovered realm, the Behavior Team had to learn to recognize opportunity. They had to open their eyes to any behavior, movement or activity Keiko might engage in that resembled a wild animal. At first it was difficult. Keiko was so accustomed to sitting idle and floating at the surface, we struggled to find any small chance to encourage an active whale. But slight modification to Keiko’s diet, increased level of exercise during sessions and our unwavering consistency between trainers finally began to take tangible form. Applied together, these shrewd but simple changes bit by bit began to awaken the animal within.

  Once More unto the Breach

  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 extre
mely 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

  To: Alyssa (and family)

  Subj: Pictures of Meeeeeeee (oh … and Keiko)

  Couple pictures of side
breach training attached.

  The pictures really don’t capture the true nature of the environment … this is me, Brian and Tracy working a side breach today (initial stages) in a hail storm, 34 degrees, wind at 30ish with gusts to 40 mph … if you can imagine about 4 foot seas with a long wavelength moving through the pen then you start to get an idea of what it’s like to work the target pole accurately and keep yourself out of the 44 degree water at the same time.

  Yeah … and we have to walk uphill in three feet of snow to get to the fish house (both ways)

  Love to all, Mark

  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.

  Having married only five months prior to arriving in Iceland, I was brimming with anticipation at being reunited with my beautiful bride. But before I could depart the island, I had to bring Robin up to speed, covering all that transpired and my thoughts for Keiko in the progression of his exercise program.