Orca Close Encounters
by Robert Anderson
Prelude
When I was young, single and just starting my professional life, I lived in Orange County, California. I developed a habit of taking off a weekend day about once a month just for fun. San Diego and thereabouts were my favorites. There were historic Mission San Diego, the world famous Zoo and Wild Animal Park, and also Mt. Palomar Observatory, as well as Julian – a gold rush era town, and even the Anza-Borrego Desert Park. And then there was SeaWorld San Diego. That was the first place you encountered just before entering San Diego driving south from Orange County.
The first couple of times I did SeaWorld, I spent most of the day there. It was expensive for my budget, and I was trying to squeeze all the entertainment value possible out of the ticket price. I did the shows and rides and exhibits, but I quickly began spending my time at the Marine Mammal Exhibit, aka dolphin petting pool. I never got tired of that.
Now if you spend time playing with “park” dolphins, you learn that they are most eager to interact at opening. As they interact more and the crowd grows, they become less and less eager. By afternoon, they keep mostly to their own kind.
There was a concession stand next to the pool where people could buy a cardboard tray with 5 or so small fish to feed the dolphins. Early in the day, the dolphins might stop and play a bit if tempted with a fish. Later, when "people saturated”, they mostly just grab an offered fish and move on. I never used fish. When the dolphins were hungry it was hard to compete with people offering fish, but if I did get one interacting, it would stay with me for a good while.
Once I realized that the dolphins were mostly interested during the first few hours in the morning, the solution was to get an annual pass to SeaWorld. That way I could arrive at SeaWorld just before opening, be first in line and therefore first at poolside, spend 2 or 3 hours with the dolphins, and then take off to spend the rest of the day elsewhere. All that without cringing so much at the per visit cost.
Another realization was that the smaller the crowd and the more slowly it grew during the day the longer it took the dolphins to become people saturated. My boss owed me a number of compensation days, so I started coming mid-week to use up those days.
While playing with the dolphins, I noticed there were also some orcas and a pilot whale in the pool. The dolphins were what really interested me, so I didn't try to interact with the orcas or pilot whale.
First Orca Visit
I think I was on my third SeaWorld visit. The pool had a waist high concrete wall with a slanted, tiled top. The water level was maybe 10 inches (25 centimeters) below the top of the wall. You could bend over the wall, resting your stomach on the top of the wall, with the water in convenient reach. I was hanging out well over the water. My arms were stretched out, and I had just gotten a dolphin to come to me.
In the meantime, one of the orcas had made a completely submerged, stealth approach. He came up beneath the dolphin, physically shoving it aside. Now instead of a dolphin I had an orca between my hands with his rostrum (pointed end) only inches (10 centimeters) from my face. He opened that toothy, apex predator mouth wide. I’m staring directly into a mouth big enough to put my head into. My first meeting with an orca. That image is burned into my memory. I remember there was a patch like yellowish scar tissue on his lower left jaw [1].
I’m proud that I didn’t flinch, but I definitely felt intimidated. I reached my hands up and started patting the orca’s head and rubbing around the outside of his mouth. I began slowly working my hands closer to his mouth. I remembered having seen someone playing with an orca’s tongue. The thought came into my head, “Surely SeaWorld wouldn’t let people play with these things if they bite?”
I started rubbing his upper lip (there is no equivalent lower lip). That lip is something like the rubber gasket around the inside of a car’s door. It can form a seal against the lower jaw to help keep water out of the mouth. I fit his lip between thumb and forefinger and ran my hand all the way from one side of his mouth to the other. The orca, like dolphins, seemed to enjoy novelty. The lip rub fit the bill. This visit, the closest inside his mouth I got was rubbing his gums outside of his teeth. I also did a lot of rubbing and patting around his head. I talked to him as we interacted. By this time the crowd was growing and other people were reaching towards the orca. He eventually withdrew. I noticed that he didn’t close his mouth until he was clear of me.
Now the dolphins required some encouragement to interact, especially when you were competing with the fish as attractants. They would often stay just at the limits of your reach, only coming closer as you gained their trust. Some time and patience were required to win them over. The orca had come to me on his own and with enthusiasm. The term that best seemed to describe the orca’s demeanor was “bubbly”. I have to admit this orca had captured my attention and a certain attachment.
This visit was a sunny day, warm but not hot. I think it was early fall 1979.
Second Orca Visit
About a month had passed. I came to the pool’s edge and spotted an orca across the pool. Within a minute or two the orca was in front of me with mouth wide open. We resumed exactly where we had left off a month earlier. I was working my hands more and more on the gums just inside of the teeth, tentative rubs of the tongue and roof of his mouth. Especially, I noticed there is a gap between the teeth. Both top and bottom the teeth come in left and right side rows. There is a gap between the rows where there are no teeth, only gums, i.e. a diastema. The teeth nearest the gap barely stick out of the gums but get bigger further back. I rubbed these gaps on both jaws.
This time, the orca would interact with me for several minutes, and then leave for a couple of minutes. I watched him. He was ‘working’ the crowd for fish. He would take the fish from whoever was offering then move farther along the pool wall to the next offeror. When he got back to me he stayed and we interacted again for several minutes. Every time he disengaged from me, he first backed away until he was completely clear, and then closed his mouth.
When he returned from the second round of the pool, he was holding onto a largish anchovy. The fish’s tail was tucked under his upper lip and it was draped over his lower left jaw. When he came to me, he was holding his head so that the fish was presented to me. I felt that he wanted me to take the fish but I was reluctant to take a food fish from a killer whale’s mouth. I rubbed him and talked to him but didn’t take the fish. He swam off and worked the crowd again. Now he returned a second time, holding another anchovy the same way. He held it up to me again. This time I felt sure he wanted me to take it. As soon as I curled my fingers around the fish, he let it go and took off to once again work the crowd.
When he returned, I wanted to show my appreciation for his present, so I played with the fish in the water. He observed this intently for a while, and then took off for another round of the pool. The next time he returned I played with the fish some more, but this time he opened his mouth. I laid the fish on his tongue oriented for easy swallowing. He flicked his tongue back and the fish was gone. I guess he could tell just from the feel that the fish was pointed with its head to his throat, so the fins would lie flat when swallowed. It was amazing to watch an orca manipulate small fish with his tongue or by controlling the motion of water within and around his mouth. That mouth-tongue combination is an orca's substitute for hands.
A bit better than half way through this visit, my trust was such that I was rubbing and playing with his tongue. Several times I grasped the edge of his tongue and gave it a little shake. Now something new began. He slowly closed his mouth while my hand was still inside rubbing his tongue. I had a few seconds to make a choice, and I decided to trust. Still the thought of the points of those interlocking teeth closing down on my hand was a bit too much, so I positioned my hand centerline, in the diastema [2].
I let him grip down on my hand, mostly with his gums, but those shortest teeth were touching the outer part of my hand. I wiggled my hand just a bit, enough to find out he had me firmly under his control. His grip was tight but not painful. Now he began slowly backing into the pool. I let my body stretch out. There was a horizontal shelf coming from the pool wall, about 6 inches (15 centimeters) under the water. I braced my other hand and arm on that shelf, like a bridge support. Soon I was stretched out so far, I couldn’t go any farther without falling in. I stiffened my body so there was some resistance to further motion. The orca let off the bite pressure just enough that my hand slipped out as he continued backing up.
Oddly enough, while being stretched out over the water, thoughts about whether the orca might injure me only flickered through my mind occasionally. Mostly, I was occupied weighing the pros and cons of joining him. I really wanted to go in with him. However, I thought about the contents of my wallet being ruined, having once accidentally washed a wallet left in a pair of pants. I considered tossing my wallet onto the pavement, but quickly decided that wouldn't work. I thought about SeaWorld ripping up the soggy remains of my annual pass and banishing me for life. I was fairly certain my glasses would end up at the bottom of the pool, and SeaWorld would feel little inclination to send a diver down. The hour drive home on the I-5 freeway without glasses seemed imposing. Once I decided it was better not to go swimming, my thoughts turned to how I should let the orca know in a polite fashion. His offer seemed so sincere and polite. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. All this went through my mind probably in less than 10 seconds.
After my hand slipped out, the orca stopped backing. He had turned slightly sideways to me and rolled enough that his eye was just above the water. As I regained solid footing at the wall, we regarded each other across a short distance. His gaze appeared wistful. I really hoped he understood that I wanted to join but that visitors were not allowed in the pool.
This was another sunny day, but not too warm.
Third Orca Visit
This visit we mostly just spent time together, without the interruptions caused by his making the rounds of the pool. The orca was a bit quieter, less boisterous. I was invited into the pool again as on the prior visit. There were people nearby as I was being pulled towards joining the orca. I took a brief glance around and remember a look something like horror on their faces. I’m not sure if they were reacting more to my being pulled in or to the orca having bitten down on me. If you don’t know about the diastema, watching those teeth close down on someone’s hand must look rather grisly.
After the first incident, I was fairly certain I could say “no” again at the last instant. I let the orca stretch me out. I was able to simply enjoy the experience. In fact I was feeling rather cocky, but I still felt bad about having to say no. I really did want to swim with the orca. I again reluctantly declined.
Except for my final visit, the few times I remember noticing a pool monitor, he or she was a bored intern. On none of the occasions that an orca had me stretched out over the water did a monitor come over or say anything.
I believe that it was during this visit that I received a lesson in blowhole etiquette. I knew dolphins are sensitive about people being near their blowhole at breathing time, but for some reason I was not applying this knowledge to the orca. The orca had come up a little farther onto the shelf than before. His mouth was closed and his head pointed down a bit, so that I could reach to rub his back between blowhole and dorsal fin. I think the orca was holding his breath, waiting for me to politely clear away. When I didn’t, he let me have it full in the face. Their breath contains a lot of condensed water vapor that left my face and glasses well sprayed, and I had to wipe off some small flecks of mucus. The exhalation is explosive. The inhalation is like a vacuum cleaner that suddenly stops when a muscular plug pops into place. I can understand why they don’t want anything too near on the inhalation.
After that, I started synchronizing my internal clock to his breathing so I would always be discretely aside at breathing time. I got the impression that the orca appreciated that I had learned or was trainable to be observant of this sensitivity. It seemed to accelerate his growing trust.
This was again a sunny day that was very moderate in temperature.
Fourth and Fifth Orca Visits
These were cold winter days with low overcast clouds, sometimes gusty winds, and occasional rain sprinkles. I remember the least about them. Maybe memories don’t take well when you are borderline hypothermic.
You have to expect to get thoroughly wet playing with orcas or dolphins. In the winter, I wore a thin nylon windbreaker and a short sleeved shirt underneath. I kept a dry long sleeved shirt in the car to change into after leaving SeaWorld. My jeans would be covered with salt patches as they dried out. Getting thoroughly wet is also why I never brought my good SLR camera into SeaWorld.
Who in his right mind would visit on such a day? That was exactly the point. There would only be 1 or 2 other visitors around the pool. The monitor was nowhere to be seen, and the fish concession was shuttered. The dolphins and orcas were eager to play. Their interest was not at all affected by such weather. My best day ever at Marineland of the Pacific was such. I think I was the only visitor and the staff were all out of sight. I had all the dolphins to myself and played and played until too frozen to continue.
I know I played with both the orca and dolphins. But the only interaction of these visits that really stayed with me was the orca’s third and final invitation to join him in the pool. I remember being stretched out over the cold gray water. This time the thought of swimming with the orca did not seem at all inviting. I again declined.
Sixth Orca Visit
The underwater shelf stuck out maybe 2 feet (61 centimeters) into the pool from the wall. Sometimes dolphins would beach themselves on this shelf to let you have better access. When the orca came up he would most often rest his throat on the edge of the shelf, so his rostrum and mouth were near the main vertical wall and convenient to my reach.
This visit, when the orca came up, he beached himself on the shelf. His body was pressed against the vertical wall except for his tail flukes, which dipped back into the pool. He must not have fit entirely, because he was clinging to the vertical wall with his left “arm pit”. His left pectoral fin was hanging out in the air, and his entire body was listing a few degrees towards the pool.
I gave him several good rubdowns over his full length. Mostly I rubbed over his skin with my hands held flat, fingers following the local curvature. Sometimes I pressed in lightly with my fingertips. On his neck and back, I pressed down hard with open hands. I could reach the base of his dorsal fin and part way up its side by standing on tiptoes. Sometimes I had my hands rubbing simultaneously atop and beneath his pectoral fin. Their skin is smooth and yielding. Your hand glides over it easily. As you approach the dorsal fin their flesh becomes much firmer and the fin itself is quite firm. Generally their flesh is firmer on the back than towards their belly. Like the dorsal fin, the pectoral fins are much firmer. [I avoided rubbing the very tender skin around his "armpit". I knew dolphins are ticklish there and wasn't certain what his reaction would be. I've tickled a baby dolphin that really loved it, but then the baby was free to easily escape.] His tail flukes remained underwater. I didn't get a chance to examine them.
Every time after he took a breath, I would move to his front or rear, whichever was closer. Using double or single handed scoops, I would splash water onto him as far as I could make it go. Then I moved to the opposite end and repeated the splashing. I felt that if I kept his skin wet and cool, he would stay out of the water longer. After the splashing but before resuming the rubdown, I would trace a circle around his blowhole with my fingertip. After doing this several times, I let my finger spiral in towards his blowhole and traced lightly around the convolutions. He seemed perfectly at ease with this.
We spent 10, 15, or more minutes this way. I do remember two tour groups stopped and watched, with many people taking pictures. Also, as the crowd built up a number of people stopped and watched us from a respectful distance. People seemed content to let us have our time together. A number of them took photographs. I really hope someday to acquire a few of those photos.
That’s most of the interaction I remember from that day. I think he had gotten so much focused attention that he didn’t come up to me again for quite a while. By then the crowd was building and I left shortly afterwards.
[It often happened that there were 2 separate sessions during a visit, the first being longer than the second. The orcas either needed some time to themselves or were hungry and spent dedicated time taking fish from whoever was offering. Sometimes I played with a dolphin during the "break" or else wandered around SeaWorld. If the crowd had built up by the second session, people would bunch up around you and reach at the orca or dangle fish at it. The orcas were tolerant, but I think sometimes frustrated with this behavior.
A lot of people wanted to touch the orcas, but their touch was often a quick "peck" as far from the mouth as possible. Feeding the orca often consisted of tossing the fish into the orca's mouth from a couple of feet distance. Most visitors seemed to oscillate between levels of fascination and fear when faced with that big, toothy mouth. There were of course people whose trust and fascination were stronger than their fear and caution.
When I walked up to the pool for a first session, usually the orca would be busy somewhere along the poolside, taking fish from someone who had arrived ahead of me or interacting with another cetacean. I would just wait. When the orca spotted me, he would make a beeline across the pool or proceed quickly around the wall, checking out anyone with fish along the way. The second or occasional third session, the orca would often be swimming about the interior, interacting with other cetaceans. I would use various "signals" to let the orca know I was back. Sometimes I would slap the water's surface with my hand or using thumb and middle finger, "click" my fingernails together underwater. Almost always, I would hold my hands underwater, occasionally making a "come to me" motion. I assumed the orca recognized the sonar image of my hands.]
It was a glorious early spring or late winter morning, still a bit cool but OK for short sleeves. The sun was hot and the sky the clearest blue.
Interlude
I was having difficulty now finding time to do the San Diego trips. Several months and maybe more passed without a visit. I was changing jobs and would be moving twice as far away regarding driving time. Also, I had committed myself to some volunteer work that seemed important. The future of visits looked bleak.
I really missed my orca friend. One weekend, I was fighting the urge to go see him. I struggled vainly then finally gave in. I rationalized that at least I owed him a “goodbye” visit. This was absolutely the wrong time to have a personal visit: a hot summer day, mid-tourist season, a weekend, and the afternoon. The crowd would be impossible.
Last Visit
When I got to SeaWorld, people were packed shoulder to shoulder around the dolphin pool. Others were roaming around waiting for someone to leave so they could get to pool side. I joined this latter group. I made one or two complete rounds of the pool, looking for an opening. The SeaWorld pool monitor, a twenty something woman, was giving a spiel from a dais where she could see over the heads of the crowd. Finally someone left close enough to me that I reached the gap first.
The orcas and dolphins were in their full people saturation mood. They were swimming rapid circuits around the pool making big waves. Occasionally a dolphin would quickly grab an offered fish, then hurry off to rejoin the others. I was resigned that my friend wouldn’t remember me after all these months and especially being only one human out of the hundreds around the pool.
I leaned over the wall and put my hands into the water, making a “come to me” hand motion. The orca passed me by several times but then stopped right in front of me. He was hanging vertically in the water, with his rostrum just under the surface and back several feet (1 meter) out of reach. I motioned for him to come to me. I thought maybe he was reluctant to come up the usual way because the crowd would all be reaching for him. After just a few seconds looking at me, he suddenly popped up out of the water and slid over my left shoulder and side. I instinctively turned my head towards his motion and tried to pull away. Hanging over the water, it’s difficult to pull back quickly. It was already too late. I was wedged under his side, pinned firmly by his weight.
As he slid up over me, his circumference was growing. My face and glasses were pressed into his side and my head was being pushed to the right. All I could see was black and white skin sliding in front of my eyes and a little patch of pool directly beneath my head. There was a lot of weight pressing on me, but I wasn’t in any pain. I think his chin and throat were over my lower back, and he was pressing downward to help hold himself in place. I wasn’t in any position to see.
The crowd went dead silent. All I could hear were the Public Address announcements. The people who had been pressing into my left and right sides were gone. For a few seconds my brain stopped. I was a “deer in the headlights”. Then I clearly knew that he was just giving me a big friendly greeting. I managed to work my arms around him, clear of his pectoral fins, and gave him a big hug, and some pats and rubs. When I did this, some ragged clapping and cheering rose from the crowd. He slid off my back into the water and swam away. The whole incident only lasted 10 to 20 seconds. [Being pinned under an orca does curious things to your sense of time passage.]
When I was able to straighten up and look around, the crowd at my end of the pool had mostly backed away from the wall and scattered. A few were clinging to the wall like they hoped the orca would do the same for them. I could see parents dragging children away by the hand. The SeaWorld monitor on the other side of the pool called out by bullhorn, “Are you OK?” I waved back and gave a big nod for yes.
I wandered around SeaWorld the rest of the day. I felt ecstatic about the orca's greeting, but I was also so adrenalized that my body was literally buzzing. I couldn’t stop anywhere. Around sundown, I went back to the dolphin pool [3]. The crowd was largely gone. My orca friend came up to me shortly after I arrived at pool side. We had a quiet visit. I stroked his head and talked to him. He didn’t open his mouth as usual and seemed rather subdued. I think he understood that I was saying goodbye. The drive home in the dark took forever. The following days I was a mixture of walking on clouds from the orca’s greeting and feeling very sad. That was the last time I ever saw my friend.
Postlude
Over the years I kept these events almost completely to myself. They were a beautiful memory that I savored from time to time.
It wasn’t until the promotions for ‘Blackfish’ started that I got curious about certain things. I never knew the name of the orca who had been my friend or what had happened to him, so I began some internet research. I found photos of an orca with the clearly recognizable mark on his jaw that I remembered so well from our first meeting. The name attached was Canuck II. I found that he had died the year after I last saw him. I sent an email to SeaWorld to see if they had an incident report concerning my last visit. They didn't respond. I also found another person, Russell Hockins, who had become friends with the orcas. We began corresponding. A month later I found Robyn Waayers, another orca friend.
Afterthoughts
After Canuck II and I first met, every following visit an orca came up to me within minutes of approaching the pool. We resumed interacting where we had left off the previous visit. Given that abrupt shift from always ignoring me to always engaging with me and the orca's continuity of behavior, it didn't occur to me that I was dealing with multiple orcas. I didn’t bother learning distinctive features like eye patch shape. The only thing I did notice was the markings on his chin changed from time to time. I convinced myself that my orca kept injuring his chin in different ways, and sometimes it was healed and sometimes not. This kept alive a small but nagging doubt in the back of my mind that left its own thread of memories.
Russell assured me that there were 4 orcas total and 2 were always in the pool in some rotating order such that which 2 was always changing. I got the names of the 4 from Russell. When I found old internet photos by those names I was able to recognize the various chin “injuries” as more permanent markings of individual orcas. [It was pretty shocking to watch 'Blackfish' when it was publicly run the second time. I now recognized Katina's and Kasatka's names and began to comprehend what had happened to my old friends after we lost contact.]
Even though Russell said there were usually 2 orcas in the pool at a time, only one ever came up to me. I don't remember another hanging around while I played with “the” orca.
The statistical chance that I encountered Canuck II every time is only 0.8%, so not very likely. With high probability, 96.9% if I did the math right, my friend was actually 4 friends. That also implies that once I became friends with the first, I was friends with all. There was never any second introduction to go through. Also, whichever one came up to me somehow knew how to recognize me and knew about prior interactions.
I'm absolutely certain Canuck II was the first orca I met. Now that I've had a chance to reconsider the experience, I'm also quite certain I met Kotar on my second visit. I'm reasonably certain I met Kasatka on my third visit. I have a sense but no certainty that Canuck II was the orca who invited me to swim on my fourth or fifth visit. I believe Katina beached herself for a rubdown on my 6th visit. I'm also fairly certain that it was Kotar who "hugged" me on my last visit. I go through my rational for all these in a footnote [4].
That second visit, when I walked up to the pool, the orca was busy collecting fish from some people across the pool. When finished, he backed away from the pool wall and went more or less vertical with his eyes above the water. He made a periscoping motion to look around the pool. When he spotted me there was an instant of recognition, a little jerk like a human doing a double take, then he abruptly arched in my direction and started swimming over. I was a bit surprised and very pleased that he had remembered me from our visit a month earlier. It was that definitive recognition and reaction that caused me to so strongly believe that he was the same orca as the first time. But I know now that this was Kotar and not Canuck II. How had he recognized me?
For the first 1 ½ visits, every time the orcas disengaged, they backed away with mouth wide open, only closing it after completely clear of my hands. The orcas apparently recognized my initial discomfort and acted to put me at ease. Once I had shown enough trust to play with an orca’s tongue, they became much more casual about closing their mouths in my vicinity.
Only after I began comfortably playing with his tongue, did the orca test my trust by closing his mouth on me. He did it slowly, giving me the option to back out of the test. He bit down on my hand just hard enough to completely control me but not so hard that it hurt. Probably 3 different orcas applied this same bite pressure to me. Russell has a very interesting story about how they learned how hard to bite [5].
The orcas allowed me to turn down their offers to come into the pool, even though they had me completely under their control. I would gladly have gone into the water but for the probable consequences. I was reading the orcas’ body language well enough by that time to feel their disappointment.
I believe that the test of trust, letting them bite down on my hand, was the key to real friendship. If you willingly allowed an orca to put you under his complete control, you passed his test of true friendship. After this he gave you his heart. Look at the trainer incidents in ‘Blackfish’ and judge what level of trust they were showing.
I think that underlying the orca’s desire for trust was a plea to “recognize me for what I truly am”.
I’ve never had an animal bring me a present. A cat will lay a captured mouse at your feet, but that’s showing off pride at his prowess. He is not giving you the mouse. The anchovy gift came across to me as, “so happy you came back!” Why did he bring me the fish? Orcas are known to food share. They will bring fish to pod mates who are ill or incapacitated. [When he was being re-introduced to catching live food, Kieko, the orca in "Free Willy", presented the fish to his human rehabilitators. "Death at SeaWorld" p. 241] But Kotar had known me for less than an hour. What was I to him that he should so honor me? Was he food sharing with a human he had barely met, or was he somehow acknowledging my return following the session with Canuck II a month earlier?
During that second visit, Kotar demonstrated that orcas are capable of multi-tasking. I’ve seen animals torn between two competing actions. They either dither or engage one action and abandon the other. Kotar could switch focus back and forth repeatedly, doing both tasks well, while thinking enough about the next task to save that last fish for me.
My final visit has affected my thinking about orcas. First, the orca picked me out of hundreds of other humans while swimming by at speed. I hadn’t even bothered to learn my orca’s identifying marks.
Second, in preparation for his enthusiastic greeting, the orca acted with deliberation rather than abandon. The orca must have had nearly a third of his length out of the water to slide on top of me. He could have seriously injured me had his aim not been as good as it was. I think he depended on the trust I had shown in the past to know I would react well to what was about to happen. I don’t know which of the orcas “hugged” me but it was likely Kotar [6].
I never got a clear look at the orca’s chin markings. First he/she was underwater, and then the leap on top of me happened too fast. When we met again that evening it was getting dark and the pool lights made his head largely appear in silhouette. The one physical indication I have of the orca's size is that it felt like my arms went slightly more than half way around his circumference when I hugged him, i.e. this was a small orca. Kotar was the smallest orca and Kasatka the next smallest.
Third, I hadn’t realized before the final visit how much affection the orca had for me. Then I thought that the orca had developed this affection over 7 visits. However, my net poolside time of 18-20 hours was most likely distributed across 4 orcas. Since I probably spent no more than 4 to 6 hours with any one orca, this extraordinary show of affection by a single orca could well have been expressing a shared consensus of affection. I have to wonder if being a friend of the pod isn't the same as being considered an "honorary" pod member.
I’ve come to believe that the orcas exhibited both pod level as well as individual level behaviors. Thus my acceptance as friend and the continuity of my treatment by different orcas from visit to visit were pod level. Likewise the accumulated affection was pod level. There was individual behavior. For instance, Kotar was the mischievous one. Both Russell and I observed his multitasking behavior. It was the uniformity of pod level behavior that led me to believe I was interacting with a single orca. As I observed Kasatka’s [or Katina's] calmer demeanor on the 3rd visit, I thought that was mood as opposed to behavior. Given more visits, I’m sure I would have figured out my mistake.
Except for the "beaching" visit and the visit where I got "hugged", the orcas were almost always oriented head on and mouth open when we interacted. They never presented themselves for a ventral side rubbing as with Robyn and Russell. Maybe it was just a matter of time, or maybe they preferred having me playing with and around their mouths and talking to them, as they vocalized back to me. [We kept up a back and forth chatter. I would ask questions or tell them whatever was on my mind. The orcas would squeak and make various bubbly sounds with their blowholes.] This positioning didn't make for easy eye contact. Also, it didn't allow me to determine the gender of "the" orca. I assumed "he" as a convenient fiction. Certainly, if the gender of the orca changed from visit to visit, that would have changed my single orca presumption.
I noted at the time that "the" orca was very careful not to cause harm. I was really impressed after my internet research, when I found out how young they were. Across the time we interacted, their ages would have ranged from 2 to 5 years; yet in this regard, they acted like serious young human adults. On the other hand, they seemed to delight in doing things that were a bit scary to test your reaction. They were more like little children jumping out from behind a tree and yelling "boo", but interwoven with that was the more serious business of testing your trust in them. Their mental growth pattern must be rather different from human.
[No dolphin ever intentionally hurt me, but letting them grip me with their teeth gave opportunity for "accidents". Their teeth are needle sharp and have little "snags" from wear. Sessions with the dolphins often resulted in small, razor like skin cuts. During my one session with the pilot whale, it sliced a finger enough to draw a drop of blood. It did not seem nearly as aware about the need to be gentle.]
Having learned about Russell's and Robyn's encounters, I'm really curious why the orcas treated each of us differently. Was it something about our personalities, how we had each reacted to them, frequency of visit, or what? By comparison it seems that I always got treated like "Sunday company". At the same time, the orcas pushed forward the development of our relationship very fast. Although it happened over maybe 10 months, my net time with the orcas was equivalent to the time Russell or Robyn spent with them in 1 ½ weeks. It was almost like the orcas anticipated how little time we would have together. [I'm half serious about this. Kandu V and Canuck II were the first orcas in the petting pool. Kandu V moved on to doing performances. I read that Canuck "flunked" training and remained in the pool. It's at least plausible that the orcas knew they would also move on after their training completed.]
The orcas drove the incremental steps of friendship. I was reacting, but apparently in ways that endeared me to them.
It was exactly the opposite from the dolphins, where I had to initiate and drive the steps towards friendship. Maybe it was this difference, but with the dolphins I never quite felt I had become a friend with any. We had a friendly relationship. There was mutual trust. They knew I was good for play [7] and rubdowns. The Marineland dolphins recognized me and would come straight to me when I showed up. [I was just forming such relationships at SeaWorld when my attention switched to the orcas.]
Friends with an Orca
I did feel with the orcas that we had become friends. That in spite of having plenty of cetacean companionship, the orcas seemed to be reaching out to establish a bond that was important to them. I sometimes imagine a conversation among the orcas that went like, "Hey you know that human that only shows up once a month and then just plays with stupid dolphins? Well, whoever's in the pool the next time he shows, play a game of 'scare the human' with him. Let's see if he's made of the right stuff to be an orca friend".
Becoming friends with an orca was an incredible experience. Maybe it has to do with the uniqueness of being emotionally close to a non-human intelligence. They were so honest, so innocent, and yet the baddest thing in the ocean. It was something like discovering that ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’ was real.
Orca and Dolphin Body Language
I found I was able to read orca and dolphin emotions reasonably well after I had been around them for a while. They likewise seemed pretty sensitive to my emotions. After all, we do share the same basic mammalian emotional neurology. We have the same emotional states in common. What I don’t understand is how we are each able to perceive the other’s emotions so readily and so directly.
With land mammals there are a lot of clues in the facial muscles, especially around the nostrils, mouth, and eyes. Humans can readily read the emotions associated with ear position or tail position or hair bristling, even though human capabilities in these areas are rather atrophied.
With cetaceans, only the eyes remain readily apparent out of these possibilities. Hair, ear position, etc. are all out. Any facial muscles are covered with blubber. I imagine that cetaceans can read a lot about another creature’s emotional state in the water using their sonar abilities. They get an inside anatomical view something like a sonogram. However, I was not in the water with the orcas or dolphins.
There is still a lot of information in body posture. Some actions like jaw snapping as a threat are easy to comprehend. Towards the more fish-like parts of a cetacean, it seems like similarity to land mammal posture diminishes.
When I tickled the baby dolphin, it was clearly laughing. It would float belly up giving access to its "arm pits". As I tickled its "arm pits", it would rapidly nod its head, like a human nodding yes, with mouth wide open, and flail its flippers about whacking my hands and arms. [These were Marineland dolphins. When the baby was first born, it stayed strictly at its mother's side. As it grew a bit older, the mother allowed humans who had gained her trust to play with it.]
There was a particular encounter that exemplifies my confusion. I was encouraging a young SeaWorld dolphin to play. He was staying out of reach, only allowing my fingers to touch about the first 1 or 2 inches (3 to 5 centimeters) of his rostrum [8]. I kept enticing him closer with little novelties. I rubbed his diastema with a fingertip. I rubbed his chin. I circled around his rostrum with my finger. Then I tried a pushing game that the Marineland dolphins loved. I put the flat of my hand against his rostrum and pushed him gently backwards. The Marineland dolphins would let you push them backwards, and then they would push your hand forward. They would do this back and forth for many cycles.
When I did this, the SeaWorld dolphin backed away several feet out of reach. His body went almost vertical with his neck bent so that his head still pointed towards me. His mouth was hanging open and his pectoral fins were drooping almost straight down. Immediately as he was assuming this posture, I felt his sense of hurt and rejection. I felt really bad. I gestured for him to come to me, trying to signal that I had not rejected him. He turned his head from side to side so that he was alternately looking at me with mostly the left or right eye. I kept gesturing, but finally he flicked his head and swam away. I strongly felt that the flick was accompanied by a dolphin four letter word.
These body postures don’t seem particular analogous to human. I had never observed them before, yet they immediately conveyed strong feelings in me. I still don’t understand how this works.
Finis
How alien in form are man and orca, yet so similar in intellect and emotion that they can bond this closely. After 34 years [9] their memory still stirs a warm, haunting feeling and brings a tear to my eye [10].
About the Author:
I was 30 and two years into civilian life after my Vietnam era military service. I had read “Lilly on Dolphins”, et al., and wanted to determine to my own satisfaction just how intelligent dolphins were. I started interacting with the dolphins at Marineland of the Pacific in Palos Verdes. I went there perhaps a half dozen times over a year. I figured out what to do in part from Dr. Lilly’s book and others, and in part by watching the rather dedicated “dolphin aficionados” at Marineland, and in part by my own trial and error. The Marineland dolphins accepted me as an OK human. I learned about trust and let them grip my hand or arm with their teeth. I had heard that SeaWorld was much bigger and newer. I combined going there with other recreation and began interacting with their dolphins. Then one of the orcas introduced himself to me and I was ‘hooked’. I visited the orcas at SeaWorld San Diego between fall 1979 and summer 1980, until life’s circumstances compelled me into other directions. I returned once around 1982 to visit my friend, but orcas were no longer in the petting pool. I've not gone to a SeaWorld or other marine park since.
I’ve always been an “animal person”. In college, I helped on a horse farm and got to know 32 horses as individuals. I came to appreciate how complicated and overlapping with human behavior animal behavior can be. I once stood my ground in front of an angry mother moose and talked to her until she calmed down. I’ve “grazed” my way on all fours inside a flock of wild Dall sheep. I’ve had a very close-up encounter with a mountain lion. Often, I’m able to convey peaceful intent so that animals do not alarm at my presence. I’m a physicist by education and was a manager in unmanned space exploration for most of my career.
[1] The Mark on Canuck II's Jaw - Valentin666 on Flickr
[2] Lest the reader think I had a death wish, I had previously learned from reading and then doing that allowing a dolphin to grip your hand or arm with its teeth was a sign of friendship and trust. I had a number of times let a dolphin grip my hand while I had my fingers curled around his lower jaw. We would hold this posture, for 20 or 30 seconds. Sometimes I would give the dolphin’s head a friendly shake. I guessed correctly that this dolphin mouthing behavior applied in its own fashion to orcas.
I did this mostly with the Marineland dolphins. A couple of them were really large adults. [It was almost a shock realizing how large an adult dolphin is compared to "Flipper" in the TV series.] The first time, I was rubbing the chin of one of these big dolphins while it had its mouth open. I put my hand in its mouth and brushed the heel of my hand lightly over the teeth of its lower jaw. The dolphin closed its mouth very gently on my hand, so that the points of its teeth made small indents in my skin. After that it became like a greeting, sharing a moment of trust together.
Kotar: What Big Teeth You Have - CetaBase, Andy's Pictures on Flickr
[3] I've remembered a few more details of that day. They are not significant enough to change the above narrative, but I offer them here for completeness. When the orca swam away after "hugging" me it seemed apparent that his human saturation mood wouldn't tolerate a reunion surrounded by the crowd. During my wandering around SeaWorld, I stopped by the pool a number of times to check on his mood. During a check right at sunset, the orca came up for a quick acknowledgement. He stuck his rostrum up just far enough for a couple of pats, then swam away. A visitor from part way around the pool came rushing over to me and asked how I had done that. He was apparently frustrated because the cetaceans still weren't coming up. I felt no more like dealing with other visitors than the orca did, so I gave him a polite but made up answer and left. Some time after sundown when the park lights were coming on, I returned again and that is when we had the final meeting previously described.
[4] Canuck II had a mark on his lower jaw, like old scar tissue. I’m certain from this mark that he was the first to meet me. The point of Kotar’s chin looked scuffed. I’m pretty sure this struck me as a “new” injury on the 2nd visit. Katina and Kasatka’s chins were fairly clear and white. I know I visited with either or both Katina and Kasatka because I remember interacting with a “clean chin” orca at least a couple of times. I believe it was that 3rd visit when I thought the orca’s chin had "healed". Unfortunately, since my memories are only of the “clean chin”, I’m less able to distinguish whether I was dealing with Katina or Kasatka. I do think that it was Katina who beached herself on the 6th visit. Her chin was hidden behind the pool wall, but Katina was the oldest and this orca was pretty big. I could just reach to her dorsal fin and her pectoral fin crossed over the top of the pool wall and still left plenty outside the pool wall for me to rub. With less certainty, I think it was Kasatka I met on that 3rd visit. I had no trouble reaching to rub her back between blowhole and dorsal fin, so this orca was much smaller than the beached orca.
When I saw Canuck’s mark again, I told myself there must be some specific piece of hardware in the pool that he re-encountered so as to repeat the injury I had originally noticed. I think Canuck might have been the 3rd orca to invite me to swim, on that winter visit. That's based on a sense. There's no clear memory. [Canuck and Katina were about the same age. As a male, Canuck would normally have been a bit bigger than Katina, but his necropsy showed he had other medical problems beyond his chronic kidney disease. At his death, his weight was significantly below normal and his growth may have been stunted earlier on. It's possible he was the orca who beached himself for me on my 6th visit. I tend to think it was Katina, especially since Russell reports Katina beaching but not Canuck.]
[5] See "Orca Encounters, The true nature of the whale called killer", the section titled "Unlimited Trust", by Russell Hockins, Nov 2013.
[6] http://internationalwhaleprotection.org/forum/index.php?/topic/1231-dolphin-jump-out-of-the-pool-at-seaworld/
Posted 2 Aug 2012, by superace: Also, Kotar (an orca) twice jumped out of his pool at SeaWorld and the stadium had to be flooded to get him back in.
Quote
It is also widely known that Kotar jumped out of Shamu Stadium in Texas, and that to get him back into the pool, they raised the water levels and flooded the entire stadium, including the area in front of the glass, where he landed on the sidewalk… I was told Kotar exited A pool as, sadly, a former trainer for the SeaCircus. I was working for SWF when it happened. So word of it was passed along to me like this, “Damn, did you hear that Kotar jumped out of the pool, and they had to flood Shamu Stadium?” I later learned that Kotar would jump up on the A pool glass and “rock” back and forth, while balanced on it.
Could you imagine? That was an animal that got people’s attention from day one”.
-End Orca Captivity, FB
Robyn Waayers in a 26 Nov 2013 email:
“One behavior that you didn’t see that I did (only once) involved Kotar swimming rapidly towards the ledge and coming out of the pool such that his flippers were perched on the HIGHEST point of the tiled pool edge. It looked like he was going to end up on the concrete outside the pool, but he didn’t. Then, after the startled people (including me) got over this shock, including a tour guide with a tour, we approached Kotar and he squirted some water that he had hidden in this mouth at the tour. It seemed to be a planned bit of mischief and I thought was the most intriguing of any interesting behaviors the whales exhibited.”
Russell Hockins in a 3 Dec 2013 email:
“I remember one of the Orcas coming out far enough to be able to hug his rostrum. Didn’t put his pecs on the top of the wall as others have said but came up very far. Don’t know if it was Kotar or not but it fits with other stuff he’s done.”
Kotar On the Wall - CetaBase, Andy's Pictures on Flickr
[7] The Marineland dolphins at least had a volleyball in their tiny pool to help alleviate boredom. They were very good at both catching and throwing. They caught the ball in their open mouths, gripping it with their teeth. They threw it with a sideways flick of their heads. I played games of catch with them on several occasions. Among the dolphins, a missed catch would often result in a free-for-all over who next got possession. Sometimes a dolphin's attention wavered as the ball was tossed, and it would get wacked in the side of the head. I'm sure it must have hurt, but the dolphins never responded angrily. They accepted this as part of the game. [SeaWorld seemed sterile by comparison, although their petting pool was much larger and had both many more cetaceans and a mixture of species.] Other than the volleyball, play consisted of many variations on splashing or squirting water and physical contact, pulling or pushing the dolphins about in the water.
Pushing a dolphin was done with a cupped hand on its rostrum. Usually the push was horizontal but occasionally vertical. I would push the dolphin as far as my arm would go in one direction, then it would push back till my arm had gone as far as it could in the other direction. We did this back and forth many times. Pulling a dolphin was done with one or both hands on the leading edge of its tail flukes, near the peduncle. The leading edge of the flukes were at the base of my fingers or in the web of skin between thumbs and index fingers. I never grasped a dolphin's fins or flukes, but held them only lightly or with open hands. Pulling a dolphin was usually vertical. The dolphin would head downwards into the pool, pulling my hands and arms with it. Before my head went into the water, I would pull upwards, reversing the dolphin's direction. I would pull the dolphin's tail flukes up out of the water as far as my arms could reach. We would do this vertical cycle many times. When the dolphin needed to breathe, it would change direction on the up cycle so its tail flukes would topple over and the dolphin would end up in a horizontal position. [The Marineland pool had no underwater shelf like the SeaWorld pool, allowing such maneuvers to be performed at the pool wall.]
[8] The Marineland dolphins were more open to greeting strangers than the SeaWorld dolphins. There was no food concession at Marineland, and the dedicated crowd of "dolphin aficionados" at Marineland both protected the dolphins from the occasional abuse by casual visitors and poured affection onto them. My first encounter with them, I just stood at the pool wall and waited. Eventually one left the aficionado he was playing with and stopped by to check me out. I rubbed the tip of his rostrum and under his jaw. I gradually extended the rubs to his throat and melon. This is pretty equivalent to shaking a person's hand before giving him a hug. A human's hands or a dolphin's rostrum are their "fighting" weapons. Even though the dolphin was friendly, I showed respect by going slow, giving the dolphin time to evaluate me. Once the other Marineland dolphins saw that one of their number had accepted you as OK, the others were inclined to accept that judgment. The Marineland pool was maybe about 40 to 50 feet across, so such interactions were immediately apparent to all. [As an overall comparison, the Marineland dolphins met visitors in a neutral but open manner, giving visitors easy opportunity to prove themselves. The SeaWorld dolphins were more wary of visitors and required an amount of wooing to win them over. The orcas actively reached out to win over visitors.]
Once you were accepted, the dolphins positioned themselves wherever they wanted you to rub: back, belly, tail flukes, etc. In one curious arrangement, you could brace your elbows against the pool wall, underwater, and hold your palms vertical. The dolphin would bob up and down, in a spy hopping motion, while pressing against your hands. They moved their body to where they wanted rubbed and pressed against you, while you remained stationary.
[9] To the best of my recollection these events happened across fall 1979 to summer 1980. Those dates correlate best with other events for which I have documented dates. It’s possible but less likely the years were 1978 and 1979 or even less likely 1980 and 1981.
I have to believe that someone, out of the hundreds present when I got “hugged”, had a camera ready and snapped a picture. I know people were taking pictures of me with the “beached” orca. When this paper is published I hope anyone encountering such an old photo comes forward. I would really treasure having those memories in tangible form.
[10] It was remarkable to me how many of the people interviewed in ‘Blackfish’ were fighting back tears or choking up as they spoke.
From "The Lure of the Dolphin", by Robin Brown, quoting Christine Bowker, who worked at Britain's first dolphinarium, at Morecambe, "Once you get in close contact with a dolphin, you get a great big hollow inside you that can somehow never be filled. It was as if I was being haunted—and it wouldn't let go."
It hurt when I had to leave my orca friend, but I had grown up a "military brat". Leaving friends and them leaving you was the way life happened. I wasn't expecting how much of them had stayed with me all these decades. Learning about the deaths of Canuck II and Kotar, then seeing the sad stories of Katina and Kasatka on 'Blackfish', hit hard. Bonding with orcas seems to leave a deep emotional imprint.
by Robert Anderson
Prelude
When I was young, single and just starting my professional life, I lived in Orange County, California. I developed a habit of taking off a weekend day about once a month just for fun. San Diego and thereabouts were my favorites. There were historic Mission San Diego, the world famous Zoo and Wild Animal Park, and also Mt. Palomar Observatory, as well as Julian – a gold rush era town, and even the Anza-Borrego Desert Park. And then there was SeaWorld San Diego. That was the first place you encountered just before entering San Diego driving south from Orange County.
The first couple of times I did SeaWorld, I spent most of the day there. It was expensive for my budget, and I was trying to squeeze all the entertainment value possible out of the ticket price. I did the shows and rides and exhibits, but I quickly began spending my time at the Marine Mammal Exhibit, aka dolphin petting pool. I never got tired of that.
Now if you spend time playing with “park” dolphins, you learn that they are most eager to interact at opening. As they interact more and the crowd grows, they become less and less eager. By afternoon, they keep mostly to their own kind.
There was a concession stand next to the pool where people could buy a cardboard tray with 5 or so small fish to feed the dolphins. Early in the day, the dolphins might stop and play a bit if tempted with a fish. Later, when "people saturated”, they mostly just grab an offered fish and move on. I never used fish. When the dolphins were hungry it was hard to compete with people offering fish, but if I did get one interacting, it would stay with me for a good while.
Once I realized that the dolphins were mostly interested during the first few hours in the morning, the solution was to get an annual pass to SeaWorld. That way I could arrive at SeaWorld just before opening, be first in line and therefore first at poolside, spend 2 or 3 hours with the dolphins, and then take off to spend the rest of the day elsewhere. All that without cringing so much at the per visit cost.
Another realization was that the smaller the crowd and the more slowly it grew during the day the longer it took the dolphins to become people saturated. My boss owed me a number of compensation days, so I started coming mid-week to use up those days.
While playing with the dolphins, I noticed there were also some orcas and a pilot whale in the pool. The dolphins were what really interested me, so I didn't try to interact with the orcas or pilot whale.
First Orca Visit
I think I was on my third SeaWorld visit. The pool had a waist high concrete wall with a slanted, tiled top. The water level was maybe 10 inches (25 centimeters) below the top of the wall. You could bend over the wall, resting your stomach on the top of the wall, with the water in convenient reach. I was hanging out well over the water. My arms were stretched out, and I had just gotten a dolphin to come to me.
In the meantime, one of the orcas had made a completely submerged, stealth approach. He came up beneath the dolphin, physically shoving it aside. Now instead of a dolphin I had an orca between my hands with his rostrum (pointed end) only inches (10 centimeters) from my face. He opened that toothy, apex predator mouth wide. I’m staring directly into a mouth big enough to put my head into. My first meeting with an orca. That image is burned into my memory. I remember there was a patch like yellowish scar tissue on his lower left jaw [1].
I’m proud that I didn’t flinch, but I definitely felt intimidated. I reached my hands up and started patting the orca’s head and rubbing around the outside of his mouth. I began slowly working my hands closer to his mouth. I remembered having seen someone playing with an orca’s tongue. The thought came into my head, “Surely SeaWorld wouldn’t let people play with these things if they bite?”
I started rubbing his upper lip (there is no equivalent lower lip). That lip is something like the rubber gasket around the inside of a car’s door. It can form a seal against the lower jaw to help keep water out of the mouth. I fit his lip between thumb and forefinger and ran my hand all the way from one side of his mouth to the other. The orca, like dolphins, seemed to enjoy novelty. The lip rub fit the bill. This visit, the closest inside his mouth I got was rubbing his gums outside of his teeth. I also did a lot of rubbing and patting around his head. I talked to him as we interacted. By this time the crowd was growing and other people were reaching towards the orca. He eventually withdrew. I noticed that he didn’t close his mouth until he was clear of me.
Now the dolphins required some encouragement to interact, especially when you were competing with the fish as attractants. They would often stay just at the limits of your reach, only coming closer as you gained their trust. Some time and patience were required to win them over. The orca had come to me on his own and with enthusiasm. The term that best seemed to describe the orca’s demeanor was “bubbly”. I have to admit this orca had captured my attention and a certain attachment.
This visit was a sunny day, warm but not hot. I think it was early fall 1979.
Second Orca Visit
About a month had passed. I came to the pool’s edge and spotted an orca across the pool. Within a minute or two the orca was in front of me with mouth wide open. We resumed exactly where we had left off a month earlier. I was working my hands more and more on the gums just inside of the teeth, tentative rubs of the tongue and roof of his mouth. Especially, I noticed there is a gap between the teeth. Both top and bottom the teeth come in left and right side rows. There is a gap between the rows where there are no teeth, only gums, i.e. a diastema. The teeth nearest the gap barely stick out of the gums but get bigger further back. I rubbed these gaps on both jaws.
This time, the orca would interact with me for several minutes, and then leave for a couple of minutes. I watched him. He was ‘working’ the crowd for fish. He would take the fish from whoever was offering then move farther along the pool wall to the next offeror. When he got back to me he stayed and we interacted again for several minutes. Every time he disengaged from me, he first backed away until he was completely clear, and then closed his mouth.
When he returned from the second round of the pool, he was holding onto a largish anchovy. The fish’s tail was tucked under his upper lip and it was draped over his lower left jaw. When he came to me, he was holding his head so that the fish was presented to me. I felt that he wanted me to take the fish but I was reluctant to take a food fish from a killer whale’s mouth. I rubbed him and talked to him but didn’t take the fish. He swam off and worked the crowd again. Now he returned a second time, holding another anchovy the same way. He held it up to me again. This time I felt sure he wanted me to take it. As soon as I curled my fingers around the fish, he let it go and took off to once again work the crowd.
When he returned, I wanted to show my appreciation for his present, so I played with the fish in the water. He observed this intently for a while, and then took off for another round of the pool. The next time he returned I played with the fish some more, but this time he opened his mouth. I laid the fish on his tongue oriented for easy swallowing. He flicked his tongue back and the fish was gone. I guess he could tell just from the feel that the fish was pointed with its head to his throat, so the fins would lie flat when swallowed. It was amazing to watch an orca manipulate small fish with his tongue or by controlling the motion of water within and around his mouth. That mouth-tongue combination is an orca's substitute for hands.
A bit better than half way through this visit, my trust was such that I was rubbing and playing with his tongue. Several times I grasped the edge of his tongue and gave it a little shake. Now something new began. He slowly closed his mouth while my hand was still inside rubbing his tongue. I had a few seconds to make a choice, and I decided to trust. Still the thought of the points of those interlocking teeth closing down on my hand was a bit too much, so I positioned my hand centerline, in the diastema [2].
I let him grip down on my hand, mostly with his gums, but those shortest teeth were touching the outer part of my hand. I wiggled my hand just a bit, enough to find out he had me firmly under his control. His grip was tight but not painful. Now he began slowly backing into the pool. I let my body stretch out. There was a horizontal shelf coming from the pool wall, about 6 inches (15 centimeters) under the water. I braced my other hand and arm on that shelf, like a bridge support. Soon I was stretched out so far, I couldn’t go any farther without falling in. I stiffened my body so there was some resistance to further motion. The orca let off the bite pressure just enough that my hand slipped out as he continued backing up.
Oddly enough, while being stretched out over the water, thoughts about whether the orca might injure me only flickered through my mind occasionally. Mostly, I was occupied weighing the pros and cons of joining him. I really wanted to go in with him. However, I thought about the contents of my wallet being ruined, having once accidentally washed a wallet left in a pair of pants. I considered tossing my wallet onto the pavement, but quickly decided that wouldn't work. I thought about SeaWorld ripping up the soggy remains of my annual pass and banishing me for life. I was fairly certain my glasses would end up at the bottom of the pool, and SeaWorld would feel little inclination to send a diver down. The hour drive home on the I-5 freeway without glasses seemed imposing. Once I decided it was better not to go swimming, my thoughts turned to how I should let the orca know in a polite fashion. His offer seemed so sincere and polite. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. All this went through my mind probably in less than 10 seconds.
After my hand slipped out, the orca stopped backing. He had turned slightly sideways to me and rolled enough that his eye was just above the water. As I regained solid footing at the wall, we regarded each other across a short distance. His gaze appeared wistful. I really hoped he understood that I wanted to join but that visitors were not allowed in the pool.
This was another sunny day, but not too warm.
Third Orca Visit
This visit we mostly just spent time together, without the interruptions caused by his making the rounds of the pool. The orca was a bit quieter, less boisterous. I was invited into the pool again as on the prior visit. There were people nearby as I was being pulled towards joining the orca. I took a brief glance around and remember a look something like horror on their faces. I’m not sure if they were reacting more to my being pulled in or to the orca having bitten down on me. If you don’t know about the diastema, watching those teeth close down on someone’s hand must look rather grisly.
After the first incident, I was fairly certain I could say “no” again at the last instant. I let the orca stretch me out. I was able to simply enjoy the experience. In fact I was feeling rather cocky, but I still felt bad about having to say no. I really did want to swim with the orca. I again reluctantly declined.
Except for my final visit, the few times I remember noticing a pool monitor, he or she was a bored intern. On none of the occasions that an orca had me stretched out over the water did a monitor come over or say anything.
I believe that it was during this visit that I received a lesson in blowhole etiquette. I knew dolphins are sensitive about people being near their blowhole at breathing time, but for some reason I was not applying this knowledge to the orca. The orca had come up a little farther onto the shelf than before. His mouth was closed and his head pointed down a bit, so that I could reach to rub his back between blowhole and dorsal fin. I think the orca was holding his breath, waiting for me to politely clear away. When I didn’t, he let me have it full in the face. Their breath contains a lot of condensed water vapor that left my face and glasses well sprayed, and I had to wipe off some small flecks of mucus. The exhalation is explosive. The inhalation is like a vacuum cleaner that suddenly stops when a muscular plug pops into place. I can understand why they don’t want anything too near on the inhalation.
After that, I started synchronizing my internal clock to his breathing so I would always be discretely aside at breathing time. I got the impression that the orca appreciated that I had learned or was trainable to be observant of this sensitivity. It seemed to accelerate his growing trust.
This was again a sunny day that was very moderate in temperature.
Fourth and Fifth Orca Visits
These were cold winter days with low overcast clouds, sometimes gusty winds, and occasional rain sprinkles. I remember the least about them. Maybe memories don’t take well when you are borderline hypothermic.
You have to expect to get thoroughly wet playing with orcas or dolphins. In the winter, I wore a thin nylon windbreaker and a short sleeved shirt underneath. I kept a dry long sleeved shirt in the car to change into after leaving SeaWorld. My jeans would be covered with salt patches as they dried out. Getting thoroughly wet is also why I never brought my good SLR camera into SeaWorld.
Who in his right mind would visit on such a day? That was exactly the point. There would only be 1 or 2 other visitors around the pool. The monitor was nowhere to be seen, and the fish concession was shuttered. The dolphins and orcas were eager to play. Their interest was not at all affected by such weather. My best day ever at Marineland of the Pacific was such. I think I was the only visitor and the staff were all out of sight. I had all the dolphins to myself and played and played until too frozen to continue.
I know I played with both the orca and dolphins. But the only interaction of these visits that really stayed with me was the orca’s third and final invitation to join him in the pool. I remember being stretched out over the cold gray water. This time the thought of swimming with the orca did not seem at all inviting. I again declined.
Sixth Orca Visit
The underwater shelf stuck out maybe 2 feet (61 centimeters) into the pool from the wall. Sometimes dolphins would beach themselves on this shelf to let you have better access. When the orca came up he would most often rest his throat on the edge of the shelf, so his rostrum and mouth were near the main vertical wall and convenient to my reach.
This visit, when the orca came up, he beached himself on the shelf. His body was pressed against the vertical wall except for his tail flukes, which dipped back into the pool. He must not have fit entirely, because he was clinging to the vertical wall with his left “arm pit”. His left pectoral fin was hanging out in the air, and his entire body was listing a few degrees towards the pool.
I gave him several good rubdowns over his full length. Mostly I rubbed over his skin with my hands held flat, fingers following the local curvature. Sometimes I pressed in lightly with my fingertips. On his neck and back, I pressed down hard with open hands. I could reach the base of his dorsal fin and part way up its side by standing on tiptoes. Sometimes I had my hands rubbing simultaneously atop and beneath his pectoral fin. Their skin is smooth and yielding. Your hand glides over it easily. As you approach the dorsal fin their flesh becomes much firmer and the fin itself is quite firm. Generally their flesh is firmer on the back than towards their belly. Like the dorsal fin, the pectoral fins are much firmer. [I avoided rubbing the very tender skin around his "armpit". I knew dolphins are ticklish there and wasn't certain what his reaction would be. I've tickled a baby dolphin that really loved it, but then the baby was free to easily escape.] His tail flukes remained underwater. I didn't get a chance to examine them.
Every time after he took a breath, I would move to his front or rear, whichever was closer. Using double or single handed scoops, I would splash water onto him as far as I could make it go. Then I moved to the opposite end and repeated the splashing. I felt that if I kept his skin wet and cool, he would stay out of the water longer. After the splashing but before resuming the rubdown, I would trace a circle around his blowhole with my fingertip. After doing this several times, I let my finger spiral in towards his blowhole and traced lightly around the convolutions. He seemed perfectly at ease with this.
We spent 10, 15, or more minutes this way. I do remember two tour groups stopped and watched, with many people taking pictures. Also, as the crowd built up a number of people stopped and watched us from a respectful distance. People seemed content to let us have our time together. A number of them took photographs. I really hope someday to acquire a few of those photos.
That’s most of the interaction I remember from that day. I think he had gotten so much focused attention that he didn’t come up to me again for quite a while. By then the crowd was building and I left shortly afterwards.
[It often happened that there were 2 separate sessions during a visit, the first being longer than the second. The orcas either needed some time to themselves or were hungry and spent dedicated time taking fish from whoever was offering. Sometimes I played with a dolphin during the "break" or else wandered around SeaWorld. If the crowd had built up by the second session, people would bunch up around you and reach at the orca or dangle fish at it. The orcas were tolerant, but I think sometimes frustrated with this behavior.
A lot of people wanted to touch the orcas, but their touch was often a quick "peck" as far from the mouth as possible. Feeding the orca often consisted of tossing the fish into the orca's mouth from a couple of feet distance. Most visitors seemed to oscillate between levels of fascination and fear when faced with that big, toothy mouth. There were of course people whose trust and fascination were stronger than their fear and caution.
When I walked up to the pool for a first session, usually the orca would be busy somewhere along the poolside, taking fish from someone who had arrived ahead of me or interacting with another cetacean. I would just wait. When the orca spotted me, he would make a beeline across the pool or proceed quickly around the wall, checking out anyone with fish along the way. The second or occasional third session, the orca would often be swimming about the interior, interacting with other cetaceans. I would use various "signals" to let the orca know I was back. Sometimes I would slap the water's surface with my hand or using thumb and middle finger, "click" my fingernails together underwater. Almost always, I would hold my hands underwater, occasionally making a "come to me" motion. I assumed the orca recognized the sonar image of my hands.]
It was a glorious early spring or late winter morning, still a bit cool but OK for short sleeves. The sun was hot and the sky the clearest blue.
Interlude
I was having difficulty now finding time to do the San Diego trips. Several months and maybe more passed without a visit. I was changing jobs and would be moving twice as far away regarding driving time. Also, I had committed myself to some volunteer work that seemed important. The future of visits looked bleak.
I really missed my orca friend. One weekend, I was fighting the urge to go see him. I struggled vainly then finally gave in. I rationalized that at least I owed him a “goodbye” visit. This was absolutely the wrong time to have a personal visit: a hot summer day, mid-tourist season, a weekend, and the afternoon. The crowd would be impossible.
Last Visit
When I got to SeaWorld, people were packed shoulder to shoulder around the dolphin pool. Others were roaming around waiting for someone to leave so they could get to pool side. I joined this latter group. I made one or two complete rounds of the pool, looking for an opening. The SeaWorld pool monitor, a twenty something woman, was giving a spiel from a dais where she could see over the heads of the crowd. Finally someone left close enough to me that I reached the gap first.
The orcas and dolphins were in their full people saturation mood. They were swimming rapid circuits around the pool making big waves. Occasionally a dolphin would quickly grab an offered fish, then hurry off to rejoin the others. I was resigned that my friend wouldn’t remember me after all these months and especially being only one human out of the hundreds around the pool.
I leaned over the wall and put my hands into the water, making a “come to me” hand motion. The orca passed me by several times but then stopped right in front of me. He was hanging vertically in the water, with his rostrum just under the surface and back several feet (1 meter) out of reach. I motioned for him to come to me. I thought maybe he was reluctant to come up the usual way because the crowd would all be reaching for him. After just a few seconds looking at me, he suddenly popped up out of the water and slid over my left shoulder and side. I instinctively turned my head towards his motion and tried to pull away. Hanging over the water, it’s difficult to pull back quickly. It was already too late. I was wedged under his side, pinned firmly by his weight.
As he slid up over me, his circumference was growing. My face and glasses were pressed into his side and my head was being pushed to the right. All I could see was black and white skin sliding in front of my eyes and a little patch of pool directly beneath my head. There was a lot of weight pressing on me, but I wasn’t in any pain. I think his chin and throat were over my lower back, and he was pressing downward to help hold himself in place. I wasn’t in any position to see.
The crowd went dead silent. All I could hear were the Public Address announcements. The people who had been pressing into my left and right sides were gone. For a few seconds my brain stopped. I was a “deer in the headlights”. Then I clearly knew that he was just giving me a big friendly greeting. I managed to work my arms around him, clear of his pectoral fins, and gave him a big hug, and some pats and rubs. When I did this, some ragged clapping and cheering rose from the crowd. He slid off my back into the water and swam away. The whole incident only lasted 10 to 20 seconds. [Being pinned under an orca does curious things to your sense of time passage.]
When I was able to straighten up and look around, the crowd at my end of the pool had mostly backed away from the wall and scattered. A few were clinging to the wall like they hoped the orca would do the same for them. I could see parents dragging children away by the hand. The SeaWorld monitor on the other side of the pool called out by bullhorn, “Are you OK?” I waved back and gave a big nod for yes.
I wandered around SeaWorld the rest of the day. I felt ecstatic about the orca's greeting, but I was also so adrenalized that my body was literally buzzing. I couldn’t stop anywhere. Around sundown, I went back to the dolphin pool [3]. The crowd was largely gone. My orca friend came up to me shortly after I arrived at pool side. We had a quiet visit. I stroked his head and talked to him. He didn’t open his mouth as usual and seemed rather subdued. I think he understood that I was saying goodbye. The drive home in the dark took forever. The following days I was a mixture of walking on clouds from the orca’s greeting and feeling very sad. That was the last time I ever saw my friend.
Postlude
Over the years I kept these events almost completely to myself. They were a beautiful memory that I savored from time to time.
It wasn’t until the promotions for ‘Blackfish’ started that I got curious about certain things. I never knew the name of the orca who had been my friend or what had happened to him, so I began some internet research. I found photos of an orca with the clearly recognizable mark on his jaw that I remembered so well from our first meeting. The name attached was Canuck II. I found that he had died the year after I last saw him. I sent an email to SeaWorld to see if they had an incident report concerning my last visit. They didn't respond. I also found another person, Russell Hockins, who had become friends with the orcas. We began corresponding. A month later I found Robyn Waayers, another orca friend.
Afterthoughts
After Canuck II and I first met, every following visit an orca came up to me within minutes of approaching the pool. We resumed interacting where we had left off the previous visit. Given that abrupt shift from always ignoring me to always engaging with me and the orca's continuity of behavior, it didn't occur to me that I was dealing with multiple orcas. I didn’t bother learning distinctive features like eye patch shape. The only thing I did notice was the markings on his chin changed from time to time. I convinced myself that my orca kept injuring his chin in different ways, and sometimes it was healed and sometimes not. This kept alive a small but nagging doubt in the back of my mind that left its own thread of memories.
Russell assured me that there were 4 orcas total and 2 were always in the pool in some rotating order such that which 2 was always changing. I got the names of the 4 from Russell. When I found old internet photos by those names I was able to recognize the various chin “injuries” as more permanent markings of individual orcas. [It was pretty shocking to watch 'Blackfish' when it was publicly run the second time. I now recognized Katina's and Kasatka's names and began to comprehend what had happened to my old friends after we lost contact.]
Even though Russell said there were usually 2 orcas in the pool at a time, only one ever came up to me. I don't remember another hanging around while I played with “the” orca.
The statistical chance that I encountered Canuck II every time is only 0.8%, so not very likely. With high probability, 96.9% if I did the math right, my friend was actually 4 friends. That also implies that once I became friends with the first, I was friends with all. There was never any second introduction to go through. Also, whichever one came up to me somehow knew how to recognize me and knew about prior interactions.
I'm absolutely certain Canuck II was the first orca I met. Now that I've had a chance to reconsider the experience, I'm also quite certain I met Kotar on my second visit. I'm reasonably certain I met Kasatka on my third visit. I have a sense but no certainty that Canuck II was the orca who invited me to swim on my fourth or fifth visit. I believe Katina beached herself for a rubdown on my 6th visit. I'm also fairly certain that it was Kotar who "hugged" me on my last visit. I go through my rational for all these in a footnote [4].
That second visit, when I walked up to the pool, the orca was busy collecting fish from some people across the pool. When finished, he backed away from the pool wall and went more or less vertical with his eyes above the water. He made a periscoping motion to look around the pool. When he spotted me there was an instant of recognition, a little jerk like a human doing a double take, then he abruptly arched in my direction and started swimming over. I was a bit surprised and very pleased that he had remembered me from our visit a month earlier. It was that definitive recognition and reaction that caused me to so strongly believe that he was the same orca as the first time. But I know now that this was Kotar and not Canuck II. How had he recognized me?
For the first 1 ½ visits, every time the orcas disengaged, they backed away with mouth wide open, only closing it after completely clear of my hands. The orcas apparently recognized my initial discomfort and acted to put me at ease. Once I had shown enough trust to play with an orca’s tongue, they became much more casual about closing their mouths in my vicinity.
Only after I began comfortably playing with his tongue, did the orca test my trust by closing his mouth on me. He did it slowly, giving me the option to back out of the test. He bit down on my hand just hard enough to completely control me but not so hard that it hurt. Probably 3 different orcas applied this same bite pressure to me. Russell has a very interesting story about how they learned how hard to bite [5].
The orcas allowed me to turn down their offers to come into the pool, even though they had me completely under their control. I would gladly have gone into the water but for the probable consequences. I was reading the orcas’ body language well enough by that time to feel their disappointment.
I believe that the test of trust, letting them bite down on my hand, was the key to real friendship. If you willingly allowed an orca to put you under his complete control, you passed his test of true friendship. After this he gave you his heart. Look at the trainer incidents in ‘Blackfish’ and judge what level of trust they were showing.
I think that underlying the orca’s desire for trust was a plea to “recognize me for what I truly am”.
I’ve never had an animal bring me a present. A cat will lay a captured mouse at your feet, but that’s showing off pride at his prowess. He is not giving you the mouse. The anchovy gift came across to me as, “so happy you came back!” Why did he bring me the fish? Orcas are known to food share. They will bring fish to pod mates who are ill or incapacitated. [When he was being re-introduced to catching live food, Kieko, the orca in "Free Willy", presented the fish to his human rehabilitators. "Death at SeaWorld" p. 241] But Kotar had known me for less than an hour. What was I to him that he should so honor me? Was he food sharing with a human he had barely met, or was he somehow acknowledging my return following the session with Canuck II a month earlier?
During that second visit, Kotar demonstrated that orcas are capable of multi-tasking. I’ve seen animals torn between two competing actions. They either dither or engage one action and abandon the other. Kotar could switch focus back and forth repeatedly, doing both tasks well, while thinking enough about the next task to save that last fish for me.
My final visit has affected my thinking about orcas. First, the orca picked me out of hundreds of other humans while swimming by at speed. I hadn’t even bothered to learn my orca’s identifying marks.
Second, in preparation for his enthusiastic greeting, the orca acted with deliberation rather than abandon. The orca must have had nearly a third of his length out of the water to slide on top of me. He could have seriously injured me had his aim not been as good as it was. I think he depended on the trust I had shown in the past to know I would react well to what was about to happen. I don’t know which of the orcas “hugged” me but it was likely Kotar [6].
I never got a clear look at the orca’s chin markings. First he/she was underwater, and then the leap on top of me happened too fast. When we met again that evening it was getting dark and the pool lights made his head largely appear in silhouette. The one physical indication I have of the orca's size is that it felt like my arms went slightly more than half way around his circumference when I hugged him, i.e. this was a small orca. Kotar was the smallest orca and Kasatka the next smallest.
Third, I hadn’t realized before the final visit how much affection the orca had for me. Then I thought that the orca had developed this affection over 7 visits. However, my net poolside time of 18-20 hours was most likely distributed across 4 orcas. Since I probably spent no more than 4 to 6 hours with any one orca, this extraordinary show of affection by a single orca could well have been expressing a shared consensus of affection. I have to wonder if being a friend of the pod isn't the same as being considered an "honorary" pod member.
I’ve come to believe that the orcas exhibited both pod level as well as individual level behaviors. Thus my acceptance as friend and the continuity of my treatment by different orcas from visit to visit were pod level. Likewise the accumulated affection was pod level. There was individual behavior. For instance, Kotar was the mischievous one. Both Russell and I observed his multitasking behavior. It was the uniformity of pod level behavior that led me to believe I was interacting with a single orca. As I observed Kasatka’s [or Katina's] calmer demeanor on the 3rd visit, I thought that was mood as opposed to behavior. Given more visits, I’m sure I would have figured out my mistake.
Except for the "beaching" visit and the visit where I got "hugged", the orcas were almost always oriented head on and mouth open when we interacted. They never presented themselves for a ventral side rubbing as with Robyn and Russell. Maybe it was just a matter of time, or maybe they preferred having me playing with and around their mouths and talking to them, as they vocalized back to me. [We kept up a back and forth chatter. I would ask questions or tell them whatever was on my mind. The orcas would squeak and make various bubbly sounds with their blowholes.] This positioning didn't make for easy eye contact. Also, it didn't allow me to determine the gender of "the" orca. I assumed "he" as a convenient fiction. Certainly, if the gender of the orca changed from visit to visit, that would have changed my single orca presumption.
I noted at the time that "the" orca was very careful not to cause harm. I was really impressed after my internet research, when I found out how young they were. Across the time we interacted, their ages would have ranged from 2 to 5 years; yet in this regard, they acted like serious young human adults. On the other hand, they seemed to delight in doing things that were a bit scary to test your reaction. They were more like little children jumping out from behind a tree and yelling "boo", but interwoven with that was the more serious business of testing your trust in them. Their mental growth pattern must be rather different from human.
[No dolphin ever intentionally hurt me, but letting them grip me with their teeth gave opportunity for "accidents". Their teeth are needle sharp and have little "snags" from wear. Sessions with the dolphins often resulted in small, razor like skin cuts. During my one session with the pilot whale, it sliced a finger enough to draw a drop of blood. It did not seem nearly as aware about the need to be gentle.]
Having learned about Russell's and Robyn's encounters, I'm really curious why the orcas treated each of us differently. Was it something about our personalities, how we had each reacted to them, frequency of visit, or what? By comparison it seems that I always got treated like "Sunday company". At the same time, the orcas pushed forward the development of our relationship very fast. Although it happened over maybe 10 months, my net time with the orcas was equivalent to the time Russell or Robyn spent with them in 1 ½ weeks. It was almost like the orcas anticipated how little time we would have together. [I'm half serious about this. Kandu V and Canuck II were the first orcas in the petting pool. Kandu V moved on to doing performances. I read that Canuck "flunked" training and remained in the pool. It's at least plausible that the orcas knew they would also move on after their training completed.]
The orcas drove the incremental steps of friendship. I was reacting, but apparently in ways that endeared me to them.
It was exactly the opposite from the dolphins, where I had to initiate and drive the steps towards friendship. Maybe it was this difference, but with the dolphins I never quite felt I had become a friend with any. We had a friendly relationship. There was mutual trust. They knew I was good for play [7] and rubdowns. The Marineland dolphins recognized me and would come straight to me when I showed up. [I was just forming such relationships at SeaWorld when my attention switched to the orcas.]
Friends with an Orca
I did feel with the orcas that we had become friends. That in spite of having plenty of cetacean companionship, the orcas seemed to be reaching out to establish a bond that was important to them. I sometimes imagine a conversation among the orcas that went like, "Hey you know that human that only shows up once a month and then just plays with stupid dolphins? Well, whoever's in the pool the next time he shows, play a game of 'scare the human' with him. Let's see if he's made of the right stuff to be an orca friend".
Becoming friends with an orca was an incredible experience. Maybe it has to do with the uniqueness of being emotionally close to a non-human intelligence. They were so honest, so innocent, and yet the baddest thing in the ocean. It was something like discovering that ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’ was real.
Orca and Dolphin Body Language
I found I was able to read orca and dolphin emotions reasonably well after I had been around them for a while. They likewise seemed pretty sensitive to my emotions. After all, we do share the same basic mammalian emotional neurology. We have the same emotional states in common. What I don’t understand is how we are each able to perceive the other’s emotions so readily and so directly.
With land mammals there are a lot of clues in the facial muscles, especially around the nostrils, mouth, and eyes. Humans can readily read the emotions associated with ear position or tail position or hair bristling, even though human capabilities in these areas are rather atrophied.
With cetaceans, only the eyes remain readily apparent out of these possibilities. Hair, ear position, etc. are all out. Any facial muscles are covered with blubber. I imagine that cetaceans can read a lot about another creature’s emotional state in the water using their sonar abilities. They get an inside anatomical view something like a sonogram. However, I was not in the water with the orcas or dolphins.
There is still a lot of information in body posture. Some actions like jaw snapping as a threat are easy to comprehend. Towards the more fish-like parts of a cetacean, it seems like similarity to land mammal posture diminishes.
When I tickled the baby dolphin, it was clearly laughing. It would float belly up giving access to its "arm pits". As I tickled its "arm pits", it would rapidly nod its head, like a human nodding yes, with mouth wide open, and flail its flippers about whacking my hands and arms. [These were Marineland dolphins. When the baby was first born, it stayed strictly at its mother's side. As it grew a bit older, the mother allowed humans who had gained her trust to play with it.]
There was a particular encounter that exemplifies my confusion. I was encouraging a young SeaWorld dolphin to play. He was staying out of reach, only allowing my fingers to touch about the first 1 or 2 inches (3 to 5 centimeters) of his rostrum [8]. I kept enticing him closer with little novelties. I rubbed his diastema with a fingertip. I rubbed his chin. I circled around his rostrum with my finger. Then I tried a pushing game that the Marineland dolphins loved. I put the flat of my hand against his rostrum and pushed him gently backwards. The Marineland dolphins would let you push them backwards, and then they would push your hand forward. They would do this back and forth for many cycles.
When I did this, the SeaWorld dolphin backed away several feet out of reach. His body went almost vertical with his neck bent so that his head still pointed towards me. His mouth was hanging open and his pectoral fins were drooping almost straight down. Immediately as he was assuming this posture, I felt his sense of hurt and rejection. I felt really bad. I gestured for him to come to me, trying to signal that I had not rejected him. He turned his head from side to side so that he was alternately looking at me with mostly the left or right eye. I kept gesturing, but finally he flicked his head and swam away. I strongly felt that the flick was accompanied by a dolphin four letter word.
These body postures don’t seem particular analogous to human. I had never observed them before, yet they immediately conveyed strong feelings in me. I still don’t understand how this works.
Finis
How alien in form are man and orca, yet so similar in intellect and emotion that they can bond this closely. After 34 years [9] their memory still stirs a warm, haunting feeling and brings a tear to my eye [10].
About the Author:
I was 30 and two years into civilian life after my Vietnam era military service. I had read “Lilly on Dolphins”, et al., and wanted to determine to my own satisfaction just how intelligent dolphins were. I started interacting with the dolphins at Marineland of the Pacific in Palos Verdes. I went there perhaps a half dozen times over a year. I figured out what to do in part from Dr. Lilly’s book and others, and in part by watching the rather dedicated “dolphin aficionados” at Marineland, and in part by my own trial and error. The Marineland dolphins accepted me as an OK human. I learned about trust and let them grip my hand or arm with their teeth. I had heard that SeaWorld was much bigger and newer. I combined going there with other recreation and began interacting with their dolphins. Then one of the orcas introduced himself to me and I was ‘hooked’. I visited the orcas at SeaWorld San Diego between fall 1979 and summer 1980, until life’s circumstances compelled me into other directions. I returned once around 1982 to visit my friend, but orcas were no longer in the petting pool. I've not gone to a SeaWorld or other marine park since.
I’ve always been an “animal person”. In college, I helped on a horse farm and got to know 32 horses as individuals. I came to appreciate how complicated and overlapping with human behavior animal behavior can be. I once stood my ground in front of an angry mother moose and talked to her until she calmed down. I’ve “grazed” my way on all fours inside a flock of wild Dall sheep. I’ve had a very close-up encounter with a mountain lion. Often, I’m able to convey peaceful intent so that animals do not alarm at my presence. I’m a physicist by education and was a manager in unmanned space exploration for most of my career.
[1] The Mark on Canuck II's Jaw - Valentin666 on Flickr
[2] Lest the reader think I had a death wish, I had previously learned from reading and then doing that allowing a dolphin to grip your hand or arm with its teeth was a sign of friendship and trust. I had a number of times let a dolphin grip my hand while I had my fingers curled around his lower jaw. We would hold this posture, for 20 or 30 seconds. Sometimes I would give the dolphin’s head a friendly shake. I guessed correctly that this dolphin mouthing behavior applied in its own fashion to orcas.
I did this mostly with the Marineland dolphins. A couple of them were really large adults. [It was almost a shock realizing how large an adult dolphin is compared to "Flipper" in the TV series.] The first time, I was rubbing the chin of one of these big dolphins while it had its mouth open. I put my hand in its mouth and brushed the heel of my hand lightly over the teeth of its lower jaw. The dolphin closed its mouth very gently on my hand, so that the points of its teeth made small indents in my skin. After that it became like a greeting, sharing a moment of trust together.
Kotar: What Big Teeth You Have - CetaBase, Andy's Pictures on Flickr
[3] I've remembered a few more details of that day. They are not significant enough to change the above narrative, but I offer them here for completeness. When the orca swam away after "hugging" me it seemed apparent that his human saturation mood wouldn't tolerate a reunion surrounded by the crowd. During my wandering around SeaWorld, I stopped by the pool a number of times to check on his mood. During a check right at sunset, the orca came up for a quick acknowledgement. He stuck his rostrum up just far enough for a couple of pats, then swam away. A visitor from part way around the pool came rushing over to me and asked how I had done that. He was apparently frustrated because the cetaceans still weren't coming up. I felt no more like dealing with other visitors than the orca did, so I gave him a polite but made up answer and left. Some time after sundown when the park lights were coming on, I returned again and that is when we had the final meeting previously described.
[4] Canuck II had a mark on his lower jaw, like old scar tissue. I’m certain from this mark that he was the first to meet me. The point of Kotar’s chin looked scuffed. I’m pretty sure this struck me as a “new” injury on the 2nd visit. Katina and Kasatka’s chins were fairly clear and white. I know I visited with either or both Katina and Kasatka because I remember interacting with a “clean chin” orca at least a couple of times. I believe it was that 3rd visit when I thought the orca’s chin had "healed". Unfortunately, since my memories are only of the “clean chin”, I’m less able to distinguish whether I was dealing with Katina or Kasatka. I do think that it was Katina who beached herself on the 6th visit. Her chin was hidden behind the pool wall, but Katina was the oldest and this orca was pretty big. I could just reach to her dorsal fin and her pectoral fin crossed over the top of the pool wall and still left plenty outside the pool wall for me to rub. With less certainty, I think it was Kasatka I met on that 3rd visit. I had no trouble reaching to rub her back between blowhole and dorsal fin, so this orca was much smaller than the beached orca.
When I saw Canuck’s mark again, I told myself there must be some specific piece of hardware in the pool that he re-encountered so as to repeat the injury I had originally noticed. I think Canuck might have been the 3rd orca to invite me to swim, on that winter visit. That's based on a sense. There's no clear memory. [Canuck and Katina were about the same age. As a male, Canuck would normally have been a bit bigger than Katina, but his necropsy showed he had other medical problems beyond his chronic kidney disease. At his death, his weight was significantly below normal and his growth may have been stunted earlier on. It's possible he was the orca who beached himself for me on my 6th visit. I tend to think it was Katina, especially since Russell reports Katina beaching but not Canuck.]
[5] See "Orca Encounters, The true nature of the whale called killer", the section titled "Unlimited Trust", by Russell Hockins, Nov 2013.
[6] http://internationalwhaleprotection.org/forum/index.php?/topic/1231-dolphin-jump-out-of-the-pool-at-seaworld/
Posted 2 Aug 2012, by superace: Also, Kotar (an orca) twice jumped out of his pool at SeaWorld and the stadium had to be flooded to get him back in.
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It is also widely known that Kotar jumped out of Shamu Stadium in Texas, and that to get him back into the pool, they raised the water levels and flooded the entire stadium, including the area in front of the glass, where he landed on the sidewalk… I was told Kotar exited A pool as, sadly, a former trainer for the SeaCircus. I was working for SWF when it happened. So word of it was passed along to me like this, “Damn, did you hear that Kotar jumped out of the pool, and they had to flood Shamu Stadium?” I later learned that Kotar would jump up on the A pool glass and “rock” back and forth, while balanced on it.
Could you imagine? That was an animal that got people’s attention from day one”.
-End Orca Captivity, FB
Robyn Waayers in a 26 Nov 2013 email:
“One behavior that you didn’t see that I did (only once) involved Kotar swimming rapidly towards the ledge and coming out of the pool such that his flippers were perched on the HIGHEST point of the tiled pool edge. It looked like he was going to end up on the concrete outside the pool, but he didn’t. Then, after the startled people (including me) got over this shock, including a tour guide with a tour, we approached Kotar and he squirted some water that he had hidden in this mouth at the tour. It seemed to be a planned bit of mischief and I thought was the most intriguing of any interesting behaviors the whales exhibited.”
Russell Hockins in a 3 Dec 2013 email:
“I remember one of the Orcas coming out far enough to be able to hug his rostrum. Didn’t put his pecs on the top of the wall as others have said but came up very far. Don’t know if it was Kotar or not but it fits with other stuff he’s done.”
Kotar On the Wall - CetaBase, Andy's Pictures on Flickr
[7] The Marineland dolphins at least had a volleyball in their tiny pool to help alleviate boredom. They were very good at both catching and throwing. They caught the ball in their open mouths, gripping it with their teeth. They threw it with a sideways flick of their heads. I played games of catch with them on several occasions. Among the dolphins, a missed catch would often result in a free-for-all over who next got possession. Sometimes a dolphin's attention wavered as the ball was tossed, and it would get wacked in the side of the head. I'm sure it must have hurt, but the dolphins never responded angrily. They accepted this as part of the game. [SeaWorld seemed sterile by comparison, although their petting pool was much larger and had both many more cetaceans and a mixture of species.] Other than the volleyball, play consisted of many variations on splashing or squirting water and physical contact, pulling or pushing the dolphins about in the water.
Pushing a dolphin was done with a cupped hand on its rostrum. Usually the push was horizontal but occasionally vertical. I would push the dolphin as far as my arm would go in one direction, then it would push back till my arm had gone as far as it could in the other direction. We did this back and forth many times. Pulling a dolphin was done with one or both hands on the leading edge of its tail flukes, near the peduncle. The leading edge of the flukes were at the base of my fingers or in the web of skin between thumbs and index fingers. I never grasped a dolphin's fins or flukes, but held them only lightly or with open hands. Pulling a dolphin was usually vertical. The dolphin would head downwards into the pool, pulling my hands and arms with it. Before my head went into the water, I would pull upwards, reversing the dolphin's direction. I would pull the dolphin's tail flukes up out of the water as far as my arms could reach. We would do this vertical cycle many times. When the dolphin needed to breathe, it would change direction on the up cycle so its tail flukes would topple over and the dolphin would end up in a horizontal position. [The Marineland pool had no underwater shelf like the SeaWorld pool, allowing such maneuvers to be performed at the pool wall.]
[8] The Marineland dolphins were more open to greeting strangers than the SeaWorld dolphins. There was no food concession at Marineland, and the dedicated crowd of "dolphin aficionados" at Marineland both protected the dolphins from the occasional abuse by casual visitors and poured affection onto them. My first encounter with them, I just stood at the pool wall and waited. Eventually one left the aficionado he was playing with and stopped by to check me out. I rubbed the tip of his rostrum and under his jaw. I gradually extended the rubs to his throat and melon. This is pretty equivalent to shaking a person's hand before giving him a hug. A human's hands or a dolphin's rostrum are their "fighting" weapons. Even though the dolphin was friendly, I showed respect by going slow, giving the dolphin time to evaluate me. Once the other Marineland dolphins saw that one of their number had accepted you as OK, the others were inclined to accept that judgment. The Marineland pool was maybe about 40 to 50 feet across, so such interactions were immediately apparent to all. [As an overall comparison, the Marineland dolphins met visitors in a neutral but open manner, giving visitors easy opportunity to prove themselves. The SeaWorld dolphins were more wary of visitors and required an amount of wooing to win them over. The orcas actively reached out to win over visitors.]
Once you were accepted, the dolphins positioned themselves wherever they wanted you to rub: back, belly, tail flukes, etc. In one curious arrangement, you could brace your elbows against the pool wall, underwater, and hold your palms vertical. The dolphin would bob up and down, in a spy hopping motion, while pressing against your hands. They moved their body to where they wanted rubbed and pressed against you, while you remained stationary.
[9] To the best of my recollection these events happened across fall 1979 to summer 1980. Those dates correlate best with other events for which I have documented dates. It’s possible but less likely the years were 1978 and 1979 or even less likely 1980 and 1981.
I have to believe that someone, out of the hundreds present when I got “hugged”, had a camera ready and snapped a picture. I know people were taking pictures of me with the “beached” orca. When this paper is published I hope anyone encountering such an old photo comes forward. I would really treasure having those memories in tangible form.
[10] It was remarkable to me how many of the people interviewed in ‘Blackfish’ were fighting back tears or choking up as they spoke.
From "The Lure of the Dolphin", by Robin Brown, quoting Christine Bowker, who worked at Britain's first dolphinarium, at Morecambe, "Once you get in close contact with a dolphin, you get a great big hollow inside you that can somehow never be filled. It was as if I was being haunted—and it wouldn't let go."
It hurt when I had to leave my orca friend, but I had grown up a "military brat". Leaving friends and them leaving you was the way life happened. I wasn't expecting how much of them had stayed with me all these decades. Learning about the deaths of Canuck II and Kotar, then seeing the sad stories of Katina and Kasatka on 'Blackfish', hit hard. Bonding with orcas seems to leave a deep emotional imprint.