Killing Keiko (25 page)

After a few more attempts, we called a time-out and regrouped to find a better approach.
The conditioning was going well. Keiko was advancing quickly, although we were completely
vexed by the elements and the simple task of staying in one place in the water. Not
to be undone, Tom and I decided that scuba would be the solution. First, the current
was being driven mostly by the wind and therefore should be much easier to deal with
a few feet below the surface. Second, placing ourselves even with Keiko in the water
column offered him a much more natural entry position (recall that the gate opening
was a couple feet below the water). It was worth a try.

This time I would be the target in the water. After gearing up, we waited for telltale
interest from Keiko. My first attempt proved out our theory, as it was much easier
to be precise in where we wanted Keiko to come. It was also easier to provide immediate
reinforcement. The remainder of the afternoon each successive attempt went on the
same way. Inch-by-inch we slowly-but-surely gained ground on each “ask.” Often in
these situations, whether it’s the first time an animal has gone through a small opening
or like Keiko with a bad history of gating, there comes a time in the approximations
when you’re in their way. I thought we were there.

“He’s past his dorsal fin through the gate, kinda at that breaking point where it’s
easier for him to come all the way in and turn around rather than backpedal out.”
We were standing on the lee of the research shack in the sliver of sun left, attempting
to warm
our bodies. Through chattering teeth I said to Tom, “You need to be close to the poolside.
If he comes right to me this time I’ll bridge and move aside. Then you slap. I think
we’re holding him back. At this point he can just as easily reach you as come to me.
I think he’s almost there.”

As proposed, we set up the scenario. Keiko came directly to my underwater hand-target
with little hesitation. I bridged, clumsily taking my regulator out and blowing the
whistle underwater, then sculling to the right and out of Keiko’s path to Tom. On
the surface, Tom slapped, keeping his hand extended below the surface to meet Keiko
halfway. Keiko turned his enormous head and torso in Tom’s direction, but didn’t move
any farther. Then, after some hesitation, he committed to Tom, touching his outstretched
hand slowly and delicately with his nose. By then I was at the surface carefully backing
away. I didn’t want to crowd Keiko’s entry path or cause uneasiness. Tom bridged.
Then Keiko surprised us, he sat up with his head above the surface and mouth open,
ready to receive herring, but his body was still in the gate. His entire nether regions
and flukes still hung onto the north pool, while the rest of him was in the med pool
contorting in order to reach Tom’s hand. Keiko was fanning his huge pecs beneath the
surface to hold this oddball position. As Tom broke away from the session, Keiko once
again backpedaled out of the gate.

“Oh my God, what a freak’n baby!” I said as we both laughed. The progress was good.
We could eliminate the tedious scuba step, but expecting that Keiko would “break the
barrier” and come fully into the med pool was overly optimistic. Instead, he showed
us that he was comfortable with eighty percent of his body inside the med pool, but
not so much that he would actually come fully through the gate.

“I can’t believe he’d rather back out than just come through and turn around. It takes
him almost a minute to get his body out of the gate backwards. He looks ridiculous,”
Tom said.

“No kidding. And here’s the whale we’re going to release, can’t cope with a simple
gate. Watching him paddle his pecs back out of
the gate while trying to avoid touching the gate frame, as if it’s going to bite him,
is pretty damn funny. I’ve never seen a killer whale act so chicken-shit.” One of
the benefits of my solitude with a trusted friend is that I could speak openly, even
if a bit dramatically for effect.

Without a word, Tom stepped back up to the same spot at the med pool, just to the
side and about six feet from the gate. He was taking advantage of momentum. Keiko
responded to his slap and came partway through the gate, gingerly twisting up through
the opening to ever so slowly touch Tom’s outstretched hand. The bridge was given,
and again Keiko sat up above the surface with his mouth gaping wide. He literally
looked as if a child expecting great praise for his little accomplishment
Ta-da!
I had to remind myself this was a killer whale.

The day was closing fast. We completed a few more repetitions, each time requiring
just a frog’s-hair more of Keiko. Tom worked his way down to the right of the adjacent
med pool wall, never once repeating the previous step and stretching Keiko’s limit
on remaining in the gate. By our last session of the first day, Keiko was in the med
pool with only his flukes hanging through the gate, yet each time he still chose to
back himself all the way out. At this point, backing out was a process that took him
considerable effort, contorting and twisting this way and that. Amazing how this enormous
lug of an animal could navigate backwards through the gate without even coming close
to touching the gate itself.

On the second day, Tracy accompanied Tom and me to the pen. Knowing them both, I knew
this was going to be a fun trio. Tom and Tracy were fast friends. There was the usual
formal exchange here and there, probing questions shrouded within small talk, but
very soon thereafter they were chiding one another as if old compatriots. Of course
I didn’t hesitate to encourage such behavior. After filling Tracy in on prior successes,
we jumped right to where we had ended the previous day.

Regression is a normal part of learning. Often such a bold attempt to pick up where
we left off would only be met with failure.
Failure, however, is also an important component of learning, providing a juxtaposition
to success. But we were fortunate this day because Keiko was up for the challenge.
He came right to Tom’s position in the med pool on the first try. Likewise, he also
continued to hook his flukes back through the gate reversing himself out at the end
of each attempt.

Following a brief discussion, we agreed it was time to deliberately create failure.
In the next approximation, we were going to ask Keiko to come so far that he would
be unable to keep his flukes in the gate. A mere two or so feet further down the med
wall would do the trick. This time, Tom surprised Keiko by picking him up in the north
pool, the first time we had acknowledged Keiko’s presence in the north pool in the
last thirty-six hours. Tom got exactly the reaction he was looking for: Keiko popped
up with greater-than-usual energy and attentiveness. After all, coming over to Tom
in the preferred pool was fall-off-a-log easy. Taking advantage of Keiko’s five tons
of momentum, Tom didn’t wait for the Big Man to come to a complete stop. As soon as
he had eye contact, he immediately pointed to the med pool, turning and scaling the
eighteen-inch step. He ran posthaste to the receiving position in the med pool. Without
giving so much as a glance back at Keiko, Tom “acted” as if there was no question
Keiko would follow.

It was not to be this time. Keiko came through the gate but stopped short of meeting
Tom’s position further down the wall. As we expected, this would require him to fully
commit to the separation. Tom gave him longer than necessary but finally stepped away
from the poolside unsuccessful. The three of us moved away from the pools while Keiko
danced his way backwards out of the gate.

Part of the day’s plan, we reduced the number of opportunities we gave Keiko to succeed.
For the most part, his successes by the afternoon of the previous day were plentiful;
he didn’t need the high-frequency micro-sessions as in the beginning. Also, it allowed
us to put much more of Keiko’s primary reinforcement into each progressive step forward.
It was time to let him sit for a while and
let the failure of the previous attempt take effect. In the simplest form, the more
he succeeded, the more he got and vice versa.

This exercise was essentially a balancing act. Waiting too long was also detrimental
in that we could lose the momentum of both success and failure. After twenty minutes,
we stepped back up to the pools. It was only one p.m., and we had a long way to go.
Tom stepped first to the north pool to call Keiko, again pointing him to the med pool
at the instance of eye contact. Tracy and I waited near the research shack and med
pool, arms crossed and silently watching the new guy work his trade. I enjoyed watching
Tom. His bent and expectant stance was a trademark quality from his prior work with
the ocean’s top predator.

Keiko disappeared beneath the surface, as he had done on each occasion, to enter the
submerged gateway. Tom crouched as if a tiger ready to spring, poised to react to
Keiko’s position and encourage the extra distance. Surprising all of us, Keiko popped
up fully in front of Tom, completely inside the medical pool, as if he’d done this
his entire life! Tracy nearly burst my eardrums screeching in excitement. Tom was
pounding herring into Keiko’s open mouth.

“Tom, point him out, point him out!” I yelled.

Tom did precisely that, and Keiko turned slowly but in the wrong direction. He had
turned to his right and thus into the smallest corner of the med pool. There was not
sufficient room for him to turn his dump-truck sized body. He eventually made his
way out but with some whitewater included. It wasn’t a pretty exit and risked creating
aversion on his first breakthrough into the medical pool.

The three of us made quick adjustment. On the next go-round, Tom received Keiko at
the same position, but this time when he pointed him out of the med, he led Keiko
to his right—Keiko’s left—and the larger expanse of the pool. Tracy stood ready on
the opposite side slapping the surface to provide a backup to Tom’s guidance. This
time Keiko turned smoothly, swimming back through the gate to the north pool. In both
instances of these first full separations, it was important that Tom point Keiko back
out of the
medical pool quickly, before he split of his own accord, gaining his trust that it
was not a trap. As he entered the gateway from the med-pool side, Tom bridged again
and tossed a single herring in his path, reinforcement for a well-executed departure.
We broke from that session and rejoiced. It had been less than forty-eight hours,
and Keiko had finally faced his demons.

For the remainder of that day and the following week, we continued to incorporate
the gateway into every session, providing the bulk of Keiko’s food and fun in the
medical pool. Within a few short days we could ask Keiko to the med pool and shut
the gate for extended periods with consistent results. We finally had the practical
means to gain access to the bay and the North Atlantic beyond. Keiko was ready for
Klettsvik.

Although no one person ever gave voice or affirmation, the accomplishment went a long
way in fostering relationships with the original staff. In my simple estimation, it
was proof positive that we knew what we were doing and could produce results; the
testament so desperately needed and timely. Those forty-eight hours achieved so much
more than simply reshaping a single whale’s dismal history with gates. On the extended
eve of the barrier net’s installation and a plan forward, it marked the emergence
of the true Behavior Team.

Tom Sanders atop the cliff overlooking Klettsvik Bay. Keiko’s bay pen is shown here
after the south pool was shortened due to storm damage incurred in late 1999. A portion
of the barrier net buoy line is visible in the middle of the picture. The North Atlantic
lies beyond. Photo: Tracy Karmuza McLay
.

Keiko’s defining three dark spots are clearly seen as he spyhops to watch a cameraman
just out of view while the marine operations team in the background repairs a section
of the bay pen. Photo: Mark Simmons