Killing Keiko (23 page)

As fortune would have it, October would see a turn in our favor on several fronts.
Our noble athlete, forced into dragging lethargy, finally seemed to be emerging from
his slumber. At the same time, we received word from the west that other hurdles had
been overcome. Namely, Lanny’s stand at the “OK Corral” board meeting had run its
course. The general outline of the release plan had been ratified. Soon enough, with
the doldrums of summer behind us, looming changes imposed by the approved release
plan would begin to electrify the Land of Fire and Ice.

Paralleling the foundational work of preparing for barrier net installation, the Behavior
Team was hard at work on our own small pet project: a means to give Keiko access to
the medical pool. As a part of the repairs made to the bay pen in early September,
the medical pool had been completely netted off in order to keep Keiko away from jagged
and harmful areas of the pen damaged in the storm. A general truism of life, problems
often come hand-in-hand with opportunities. By placing a net wall on both sides of
the medical pool, the Marine Ops team had in effect provided us the means to build
a gateway into the medical pool. The configuration would allow us the chance to train
Keiko on going through a net gate in anticipation of the same access method to the
bay beyond.

This was an important step to rehearse. Keiko had a history of problems with going
through gated channels. In his Newport facility, the trainers had much difficulty
getting him to go into that facility’s medical pool. The Newport med pool had a gate
on each end, and Keiko would swim into the med pool with his entire body, leaving
only his tail flukes just outside the gate through which he entered. Rather than swim
through the medical pool and out the other side, he would slowly back himself out
of the same gate. This behavior was the trademark result of a traumatic history with
gates somewhere in Keiko’s past. During his brief habitation at
Marineland in Canada, other whales, his dominant pool-mates, repeatedly bullied him
by pinning him behind gates and in smaller pools. He learned that by leaving his flukes
in the gate channel, he could physically block his caregivers from being able to shut
the gate, thus never committing to going into the smaller medical pool.

In my time at SeaWorld, conditioning and maintaining gating and separation behavior
was a daily theme, incorporated into every session and interaction. Teaching an animal
to hold for gates to open and close or voluntarily move between pools and/or social
groups was made to be one of the most fun activities in which the whales engaged.
The fact is that proper gate conditioning, as simple a concept as it seems, eludes
many caregivers who work in managed care environments. All too often coercion and
baiting become the well-worn tools of separating animals. A product of this shortcoming,
Keiko’s history with gates, mainly avoidance, was typical of the behavior produced
by many smaller old-world facilities.

Why was this avoidance of gating an important obstacle to overcome? In this case,
it was vital that Keiko commit to entering the med pool in order to fit him for the
tracking device prior to open ocean access. Even more relevant was that Keiko learned
to go completely through a narrow gateway. In order to get him bodily from the bay
pen to the wide expanse of the bay, and then again from the bay to the open ocean,
Keiko needed to be fluid and proficient at going through gates.

A side benefit of conditioning the gateway was the mental stimulation this new goal
would provide Keiko. After only a few weeks stuck in the north pool alone, amplified
by his recent dietary setbacks, Keiko’s day had become painfully monotonous. He was
beginning to show signs of withdrawal. We couldn’t afford a setback of this nature
… not at this stage in the rehabilitation. The timing of the med pool gate was serendipitous,
a perfect and welcome change of pace for the Behavior Team and Keiko alike.

Excerpt

OFS Public Web Update: November 2, 1999

Behavior modification was first applied to cetaceans (whales and dolphins) in 1953
at Marine Mammal Productions in St. Augustine, Florida. Although the field of animal
training has been around for much longer, countless advances have been made over the
last 46 years.

Due to the unique characteristics of an aquatic environment, training cetaceans focused
largely on a method called “positive reinforcement,” the principal means used in conditioning
Keiko when he was younger. While Keiko’s current goals have changed drastically from
what he learned at an early age, we still use positive reinforcement to help influence
behavior throughout his rehabilitation.

Goals such as learning to capture and eat live fish, physical conditioning (exercise),
swimming through a gate, following a designated boat, and adapting to a new environment
all represent significant change for Keiko. Positive reinforcement helps Keiko adjust
to these changes by carefully introducing each step and focusing on his successes,
one at a time.

Remarkably, it did not take long to design and fabricate the gateway for Keiko’s access
to the med pool (despite all the activity surrounding the ongoing barrier net work).
Brian and I had drawn out a napkin design of a square aluminum frame, ten feet wide
by fifteen feet deep, which would be tied into the medical pool’s net wall just below
the surface of the water. Once affixed to the net wall, we would cut the center out
making a hole in the med pool net framed by the metal outline. In order to open and
close our makeshift gate, the two sides of the frame had vertical bars or tracks welded
on and running unobstructed up the length of the frame. A free-floating horizontal
bar, attached to the frame’s vertical bars on each side by eyebolts, allowed the gate
to be opened or closed.

The frame was fabricated by a welder in town and brought out to the bay pen by Michael
and the valiant Marine Ops crew. Michael and the guys helped us lower the frame into
place and anchored it in several spots on the med pool’s net wall. The rest would
be up to Brian and me. Marine Ops had more than they could handle and could not spend
the time tediously stitching the frame into place. As in most animal environments
where personnel are divided by specialized responsibilities, the Behavior Team was
viewed as soft-handed wimps by the leathered and tough Marine Operations gorillas.
Brian and I wouldn’t have any of it. We would have this gate installed and in operation
in no time and without asking for any help, come hell or high water.

The high water came when we were diving on the outside of the bay pen between the
net walls of the north pool and the medical pool. Roughly two feet separated the opposing
vertical walls providing only enough space to turn around while clad in full dive
gear and a restrictive dry suit. At first both Brian and I had been diving. Monotonously,
with hands numb from cold, we went square mesh by square mesh tying the net to the
metal frame of the bay pen’s middle structure. Eventually, we ran out of dive tanks
and had only enough to allow one of us in the water at a time. The other remained
topside, warming his core while waiting for the agonizingly slow compressor to refill
the next series of tanks.

On one such interval I had been down below and in between the two net walls. Lost
in thought born of repetitive work, I was alone in the serene, albeit frigid, underwater
world. Void of sound and gravity, a work-dive can be a nice escape. Of course it doesn’t
always go so smoothly. As was the case on this particular occasion, a swift surge
current came out of nowhere and swept the two net panels upward toward the surface,
sandwiching me in the middle. Having been a frequent diver, and only at a depth of
twenty feet or so, I was not immediately alarmed and resisted the urge to tense my
body. The surge came into the bay traveling north, paused and then returned south
and out of the bay. As quickly as it came it went. In its wake I was left tangled
in a heap between the two net panels.

If pressed, I do not think I could come up with any scenario imaginable where panic
would actually be beneficial. It certainly was not in this situation. Although immobilized
as if caught in a giant underwater spider’s web, I at least kept my cool. For the
time being, I had plenty of air—about a quarter tank (in that temperature, approximately
fifteen minutes). At first I tried to reposition myself to get a feel for where all
the hang-ups were. But it was nothing doing. The snags were behind me. No easy out
this time. I would just have to take all the gear off underwater.

In diving, this is called “doff and don,” meaning to remove the dive gear and put
it back on while keeping the regulator or mouthpiece in your mouth (never losing the
air supply). In the process of getting a diver’s certification, this is a required
skill. Only I had to modify the exercise slightly. Because I was tangled with the
first stage caught in the net behind my head and my feet stuck through the opposite
net, I had to completely remove the dive gear and take the regulator out of my mouth
(though I maintained a death grip on it the entire time).

The maneuver only took maybe a minute; however, the exercise was complicated by the
fact that I could not feel my feet or hands. Visibility was only a meter at best.
Nonetheless, I managed to get loose from the net, and with equipment in tow, dove
down and out of the confines of the pen.

Climbing back on deck, I was pretty proud of myself for not flipping out and turning
a minor inconvenience into something more serious. Although emergency skills like
doff and don and buddy breathing are practiced, actually
needing
them in a real world setting is quite different than a dress rehearsal. Daylight
was growing short and Brian and I decided it would take another day to finish the
gateway.

By the end of the second day we had the new gate firmly lashed in place around its
entire perimeter—over thirty-five meters of net stitching. After a thorough inspection
of the medical pool, we opened the rectangular center of the frame thus granting Keiko
access.

The gate acted just like an upside-down window shade. When open, the excess net would
sag at the bottom of the gateway. When closed, the bagging net was pulled to the top
by the horizontal bar and stretched tight over the opening, thereby closing the gate.
Michael, Smari, Greg and Blair all pitched in with final touches and installed a hand-crank
system allowing us to open or shut the gate from the side of the pool.

To our amazement, the gate worked beautifully. Gravity did all the work of opening
the gate and although shutting it was slow (many turns later on the hand-crank), it
operated more smoothly than we anticipated.

OFS Public Web Update: November 14, 1999

Preparing Keiko for reintroduction involves precision planning. In previous updates
we have talked about various goals that must be achieved for rehabilitation. Learning
to catch and eat live fish, following a designated boat in the open ocean, and meeting
the physical demands of travel in the North Atlantic are perhaps the most obvious;
however, there are numerous smaller victories in store for Keiko. Planning for the
long-term goals requires breaking those goals down into day-to-day events. It is the
implementation of these short-term challenges that becomes so important in setting
Keiko up to succeed at the bigger picture.

In last week’s update (11/2/99), we talked about the use of DRA conditioning and how
it shapes Keiko’s behavior. We are currently utilizing DRA conditioning to prepare
Keiko for a significant step in the rehabilitation process.

Our marine engineers have been working around the clock on preparations to install
the “barrier net,” a net that spans 300 meters and will allow Keiko access to the
entire bay. Exposure to the bay area represents significant change for Keiko. In Klettsvik
bay he will have access to a natural ocean bottom for the first time in 20 years!
There is a wide variety of sea life contained in the bay (including some pretty big
sea stars). Of course there are some challenges that Keiko must
meet before any of this can happen. In order to access the bay, Keiko must learn to
swim through an opening in the bay pen net itself.

To prepare Keiko for this detail of his rehabilitation, our on-site team designed
and installed a “gateway” between two pools on the inside of the bay pen. Using this
gateway, Keiko will learn to swim in and out of his floating pen and eventually, out
of the bay area. This particular opening will act as a prototype for the actual gateway
that will be placed in the barrier net between Klettsvik Bay and the North Atlantic.

Gateway Conditioning

Learning to swim through the gate is an important step; however, equally as important
to his long-term rehabilitation is “how” Keiko learns this behavior. Each step of
the way trainers encourage Keiko to explore his surroundings. Introducing a new item
such as the gate offers an opportunity to reward Keiko’s initiative.

On Friday November 12, divers completed their final inspection of the new gateway
making sure that all was in order and the area was safe for Keiko. That afternoon
the gate was opened granting Keiko access to another section of the bay pen.

Once again, it was time for my return stateside for a short spell. In departing, I
left explicit instructions for Keiko’s conditioning work: It was time to get Keiko
through the gate and into the medical pool. It would not be long before we were faced
with access to the bay and at present, Keiko was not ready. For starters, he wouldn’t
go anywhere near the new gateway in his bay pen enclosure. His history with gates
was not ideal, and reshaping this behavior was going to require exacting focus. The
task fell first to Kelly, Brian and Steve.

Even when on a home rotation, we were never truly “off.” Charles had approved a request
to bring aboard one more new staff member. Robin and I both knew exactly whom we wanted.
I spent most
of my rotation home preparing for the arrival of Tom Sanders. Tom and I had worked
together a few years in the SeaWorld of Florida park, which is all it took for us
to become close friends. Tom had more aptitude in one finger than most people possessed
in their entire being. He was mechanically inclined, adaptive to almost any environment,
athletic, and he understood how to shape behavior. He was in many ways a Poet-Philosopher
type when it came to the application of behavioral conditioning. These traits along
with Tom’s affable personality, made him the perfect fit for the project. Where Kelly
provided additional behavioral input and expertise, she also contrasted sharply with
the rugged conditions. Everyday had to be reinvented, every advancing step a deliberate
effort; nothing was handed to you with ease. We needed a pacesetter, someone who created
energy where little existed; someone who could lend steadfastness to the otherwise
illusory plan of release. Perhaps as important, we wanted someone the existing staff
would accept. Tom was our guy. I had great expectations and hopes for his introduction
in Iceland. As chance would have it, he would meet me on my return rotation for his
indoctrination, and we would spend the first few weeks together with Keiko.