I remember the first time I saw an orca whale in the wild--I was in British Columbia at the famous Lime Kiln Park in San Juan Island. I was sitting on a rock near the water's edge as my family and I watched another family swim by, curiously eyeing us the way we were curiously eyeing them. As one of the whales swam by so close I could feel my heart race, I saw its eye look at me through the water--an intelligent, inquisitive and kind look from an animal that is more complex than we can begin to understand.
This brief glance and quick encounter held more meaning than any forced wave or jump that I had witnessed killer whales perform at Sea World. Although always adverse to keeping such beautiful animals in captivity (and never quite believing the lie that flopped fins of captive orcas are "normal") it wasn't until I saw the film
Blackfish did I truly become disgusted by the SeaWorld corporation.
Like most people, I fell in love with Keiko (or as kids of the 90s will remember as "Willy"). I recently read somewhere that Keiko was like Tilikum's lost twin--both male orcas captured at the same age, from similar locations, subject to the same abuses, captivity and injustices with dramatically different outcomes. Perhaps it was "Willy's" movie debut that rendered his story ending slightly more uplifting than Tilikum's but both portraits paint a picture that is disturbing.
By now the story of Tilikum and the tragic death of his trainer, Dawn Brancheau have become an exhausted debate about whether the fault rests with the trainer or the whale. Seaworld would have us believe that Dawn's ponytail or training misstep aggravated the otherwise cooperative orca. With the lovable image of "Shamu" rendering millions of dollars for SeaWorld, the company's PR team must have worked day and night to spin the story of Dawn's death to look like it was anything but the act of a mentally unstable killer whale. In truth, Tilikum is a product of his upbringing--an upbringing that is riddled with trauma, neglect, pain and injustice--a formula that would corrupt even the most sound of human beings.
Blackfish goes on to chronicle Tilikum's life story and it becomes quickly apparent that he is just one whale and one story of many heart breaking tales that swim within Seaworld's tanks. Whether Tilikum's attack on Dawn was made with ill intent is a matter of opinion but the fact remains that orca whales have never been known to attack humans in the wild.
I wish words had the power to change situations and melt the ice around the hearts of people who have long ago lost touch with empathy. Perhaps then, these words and the words of all the praise and reviews of
Blackfish would result in change. For now, Tilikum and his fellow captive orcas are left to swim in circles in tanks for the sole point of our entertainment value.
I have no doubt that people less informed or who simply don't care, will continue to throw their money at SeaWorld to watch intelligent animals perform flips for their viewing pleasure. What I can say is that I will never set foot in SeaWorld again, as long as I live. I have had the joy of watching a family of orcas swim by freely in the wild, even making eye contact as they go along, and the beauty of that moment is something that SeaWorld will
never be able to capture. Perhaps SeaWorld started as the hero, a company dedicated to educating us on marine life, but unfortunately this multi million dollar corporation has now lived long enough to see itself become the villain.
Please sign this petition to have SeaWorld release Tilikum:
http://www.change.org/petitions/seaworld-inc-humanely-release-the-orca-whale-known-as-tilikum-to-a-seapen-for-rehab#
