Authors: Mark A. Simmons
Dave did not agree to employment with OFS. During the scope of the meetings with Charles,
Dave had been hopelessly turned off. He wanted only to do what was best for Keiko,
and to him that meant focusing on Keiko and only Keiko. The process of running an
organization and a project of this size and scope invariably required discussion of
rather unpleasant topics. After witnessing the “making of the sausage,” Dave’s impressions
of the project, or more precisely the decision-matrix in charge of Keiko’s release,
left him with too many doubts about its eventual outcome.
Had we recognized the gravity of Howard Garrett’s accusation, it’s doubtful that either
Robin or I would have continued on with our arrangement. I believe that Dave somehow
felt this underlying threat to the project even if he couldn’t put his finger on it
at the time.
The fact was that Howard Garrett had not been the only one harboring a deep hatred
and distrust toward us. Even within the board of directors, there were those that
shared Garrett’s sentiments. Far removed from the organizational turmoil over our
involvement, many of our challenges in preparing Keiko for release were right in front
of us, in broad daylight; measurable and factual. This is where we placed our focus.
We would not know until later, the real antagonist that threatened our ability to
succeed was neither the harsh environment nor the behavioral obstacles that stood
in Keiko’s path; it was ignorance, dissention, and foul play behind-the-scenes working
to erode everything we represented. It was the human element. Eventually we would
discover the enemy within was not limited to the organizational headquarters in Berkley
or Santa Barbara; even among us, there were those who monitored our every action,
reporting to board members and poisoning the waters from day one of our involvement.
Regardless, for the time being, Robin and I had a clear path forward and felt unhindered
by the office politics of the FWKF. In essence and in practice, we simply ignored
the FWKF board, made possible by the project’s geographical distance. From that day
forth we approached the task of Keiko’s rehabilitation with renewed energy, spending
the next few days outlining specific changes that would be implemented immediately.
By May 10, Robin had been in Iceland for more than a month. We decided he would head
back home for some much needed R&R and to begin his rotation opposite me.
I would stay in Heimaey until sometime in June and get the ball rolling with Keiko
and Phase One of the whale’s rehabilitation.
As presented to Ocean Futures Society, February 27, 1999
Excerpt:
A. Deprogramming
1. Multiple-Baseline Design—extinction of unwanted conditioned history.
2. ABAB/Reversal Design—Functional project relationship
B. Cognitive Restructuring
1. Overt vs. Covert applied modifications.
C. Natural Environment
1. Transference
2. Modeling
3. Response Contingencies.
ABAB: An experimental design in which behavior is measured during a baseline period
(A), during a period when a treatment is introduced (B), during the reinstatement
of the conditions that prevailed in the baseline period (A), and finally during a
reintroduction of the treatment (B). It is commonly used in operant research to isolate
cause-effect relationships.
The small island community of Heimaey has a calloused history that hardened its inhabitants
resulting in a rich bond and brotherhood that suits the island-village well. Boasting
a population of less than five thousand, everyone knows everyone, and strangers stick
out like a redhead in a sea of blond, blue-eyed people.
One can easily stumble upon stories of heroism and triumphant resilience against the
elements when traipsing about town or frequenting the small tavern Lundinn on a busy
night (which is most nights). Once beyond the initial cool gaze afforded strangers,
little effort is required in becoming the favored guest of an overzealous fisherman
more than willing to donate the Icelandic version of an Irish coffee while recounting
a remarkable story with a matter-of-fact poise. Unless a glutton for punishment, I
highly recommend
avoiding such friendly gestures. A single dose of an Icelandic fisherman’s Irish coffee,
accompanied by a hearty shoulder grip is hardly an equitable exchange for a good yarn
and may land the more gullible a thankless job onboard his fishing boat (a close encounter
of which I have firsthand experience).
The town of Heimaey had a brand of small town charm uniquely its own. Townspeople
were friendly, but something much deeper ran beneath the surface. It was as if there
was a secret society behind the outwardly affable nature of most; though not apparent
to a casual visitor. It took living and working in Heimaey to recognize the profound
bond that the locals shared with one another.
Unlike any U.S. hometown claimed by the Keiko project team members, Heimaey had no
crime to speak of. I doubted that anyone, a few I was sure of, ever locked the doors
to his or her home. Children played throughout town with no parent watching over or
worrying about their safety. On trips to the nearby grocery store, I remember being
shocked that young mothers would leave their babies in strollers parked just outside
the door while they shopped inside. I couldn’t imagine the culture of security ingrained
so deeply as to afford such comfort. But it wasn’t the utopian safety or friendliness
of Heimaey that gave its people a distinctive quality. It was something much deeper,
more generational, something they were raised with and something individual to this
island.
Iceland has perhaps one of the most pure cultures remaining. Very little outside influence
on the society has taken place over the centuries. Its Nordic language, Icelandic,
is a subgroup of Germanic languages and one of the oldest in the world. It is said
that a modern Icelander could converse easily with a fellow countryman from the twelfth
century, so little has changed about the language, the dialect, and the written word.
The island of Heimaey is believed to have been first settled in 930 AD.
Dating back to the seventeenth century, Heimaey had been the target of the Turkish
abductions, known as one of the most violent events in Iceland’s history. Barbary
pirates raided the island in 1627 capturing or killing more than fifty percent of
the inhabitants.
Survivors were spirited off to Algiers and into a life of brutal slavery. These invasions
happened again some years later when nearly 800 Icelanders were taken into slavery.
Between 1963 and 1973, several volcanic eruptions plagued the small town. In the most
destructive of these eruptions, the volcano Eldfel began spewing volcanic ash and
lava on the early morning of January 23, 1973. Almost the entire population of Heimaey
had to be evacuated to the mainland within hours of the eruption’s start. Many homes
and farmsteads near the main fissure of the eruption were completely destroyed, either
buried in lava flow or burned by flying lava bombs.
In addition to the violent history with Barbary pirates and challenges of the volcano
fire mountain, the small fishing village has had no shortage of sacrifice at the hands
of the unpredictable North Atlantic. Many families carry a scarred history of loved
ones lost at sea. Local legends frequent the town’s few drinking holes and lend to
the otherworldly feel of the culture. In 1984, a local man swam over six hours in
the frigid waters after his boat sank five kilometers east of Heimaey. No normal human
could withstand the severely hypothermic waters for such an extended period. The man
traipsed about the town and often greeted obvious outsiders who ventured into Lundinn
with the same practiced taunt, “You a swimmer? You’re no swimmer.” A large man, his
chides were often a drunken attempt to start physical conflict, but few patronized
his invitation. Among the locals he’s a living legend. There is also is a monument
to Jon Vigfusson who scaled an impassable vertical cliff in 1928 to save the lives
of his crewmates after their vessel stranded just offshore.
The island is surrounded by one of the richest fishing grounds in the region. Fishing
operations that run out of Heimaey supply nearly fifteen percent of Iceland’s total
fish export. While stationing the Keiko project in Heimaey made it easy to feed a
four-ton killer whale, it didn’t, however, lend much in the way of moral support to
the release effort. Most fishermen on Heimaey had no concept of what the Keiko Release
Project was about. There are an estimated 5,000 killer whales in the waters surrounding
Iceland. To them, killer whales were a nuisance that interfered with fishing and competed
for their resources. They often scoffed or laughed at us whenever we were fortunate
enough to find ourselves in the same restaurant or bar the night a fishing vessel
would return from weeks at sea. On many occasions the happenstance fisherman would
take great joy in telling us that Keiko was no more than dog food and that we silly
Americans were wasting money. The more serious and less social fisherman was not to
be debated. At times, this contention in the community over what should be done with
Keiko was palpable.
Not only was the Keiko Release Project considered a ridiculous venture by the hard-core
fishing types, but also eventually the project would conflict with their livelihood
and threaten the very food on their table. This time would come soon enough, but for
now we had many more friends in the island chain of Vestmannaeyjar than enemies. Those
friends welcomed every chance to teach us how to be festive in the long dark days
of winter.
After warming up to their guests, locals are fond of sharing the three winter hobbies
of Icelanders. They will deliver a robust slap on the back hard enough to throw one
off balance and explain that during the twenty-hour days of winter darkness, their
favorite pastimes are to “drink, fight and f-ck.” Great shock value …only I’m confident
the saying was not lacking of some truth, but rather born of much veracity. Such sayings,
derived from fact, have a way of becoming legend in a Land of Fire and Ice.
In unlikely ways, the island village and the Keiko Release Project were perfectly
matched; both somehow apart from the routine world surrounding Vestmannaeyjar. The
island, the townspeople and their iconic guest comingled, forming a singular backdrop
that defined an era unto its own in Heimaey’s long and colorful history.
The uncertainty of our involvement now behind us, I found a deep connection with this
new community, this new animal. After an intense first month, what seemed an eternity;
it was finally time to get to work.
If releasing Keiko was not as simple as moving him to Iceland, then what did a successful
release look like? No one really knew for sure. Releasing an adult male killer whale
like Keiko, who had been in the care of man for practically his entire life, had never
before been attempted. However, the basic requirements for a cetacean to be eligible
for release had been defined in 1993 by researchers for the U.S. Navy. These requirements
had become the standard for evaluating release candidates. Represented here in their
most simple form, the criteria were comprised of nine prerequisites that Keiko would
have to meet prior to being considered viable for release to the wild:
1. Health: He had to be in good health. Keiko could not be reliant on any medication
or veterinary assistance. His immune system would have to be able to deal with anything
he might encounter without benefit of artificial support. Beyond the various pathogens
or viruses that might exist in the wild, Keiko would also encounter bacteria and parasites
found in live fish. His system would have to learn to cope with all of these new threats.
2. Physical Conditioning: He had to be in good shape (i.e., not injured or overly
fat or thin) and able to travel great distances when necessary. Keiko had to be the
equivalent of an ultra-marathoner or long-distance trailblazer.
3. Foraging Capability: Perhaps the most talked about in the general public forum,
Keiko would have to eat live fish. It would not be enough to show us that he would
or could eat live fish in a controlled setting. He would need to demonstrate
the ability to find and catch his own food. In killer whale societies, this is most
often done through cooperative hunting. For this and many other reasons, finding Keiko
a pod of wild whales that would accept him was paramount to his survival.
4. Normal Aversion to Man-made Equipment and Material: Keiko would need to be taught
to stay away from man. That meant not approaching boats, docks, harbors or anything
that constituted human activity in the ocean. He could not solicit for attention from
humans during the inevitable encounters with man-made vessels at sea.
5. Avoidance of Humans and Human Contact: Keiko would need to forget his lifelong
relationship with humans. He would have to replace his human relationships and prefer
the kinship of his own kind. Conversely, attraction to human activity would be thereafter
considered nuisance behavior and in regulatory fashion, mandate that intervention
and permanent care be imposed.
6. Lack of Sensitivity to Monitoring Equipment: Basically, Keiko would be equipped
with a tracking device, important for maintaining remote supervision of his well-being
when he was successfully out on his own. All release plans require an intervention
plan: an emergency plan to rescue the released animal should it get into trouble.
Just because an animal may leave or be deemed “released” does not mean its release
has been successful. Success would only come after surviving at least a season and
showing further signs of thriving in its new environment or social group. Many times
in the aftermath of release, even of rehabilitated wild animals, they become compromised
after months or longer when back in the wild. Keiko would have to learn to accept
a tracking device attached to his body.