Death at SeaWorld: Shamu and the Dark Side of Killer Whales in Captivity

by David Kirby

Winnie’s import application also brought unwanted scrutiny from one of SeaWorld’s fiercest and most well-organized critics: the Humane Society of the United States (HSUS), the influential animal-protection group based in Washington, DC. The well-funded outfit contacted NMFS in April 1991 to request a public hearing on the import permit for Winnie and to express concern over Keltie Byrne and two whales that had died the previous year: Nootka I in San Diego, and Kanduke in Orlando.

  HSUS officials also questioned the “peculiar” circumstances surrounding Kahana’s death. They had obtained and analyzed her necropsy report and complained to NMFS that it was “deficient and contradictory.” Many details on Kahana, such as the discovery of her carcass, were omitted, HSUS said. The microbiology report was missing, and a diagnosis listed as “positive” in one supporting document was described as merely “possible” in another.

  Three months after Kahana’s, another death occurred at SeaWorld. In August 1991, the pregnant female Kenau died of pneumonia during a stillbirth at SeaWorld Orlando. Technically, two whales died that day, the mother and her stillborn calf.8

  HSUS went on the attack again, complaining about an incomplete bacteriology report, inconclusive determination of the primary pathogen, “peculiar circumstances” surrounding a tooth infection, and the “sudden and serious nature” of the onset of pneumonia. “This tremendous loss of life is unacceptable, especially in light of the fact that SeaWorld is widely considered ‘the best’ in the public display industry,” the HSUS wrote to NMFS. “This series of events indicate that systemic difficulties exist in the maintenance of orcas in captivity.” HSUS urged the feds to investigate the recent spate of orca deaths and their necropsy reports, and to look into SeaWorld’s orca husbandry in general.

  Anti-captivity groups reminded the media that since 1965, when SeaWorld bought its first killer whale for display, the company had owned a total of thirty orcas. Now, nineteen of them were dead. “I think it’s time the public wakes up and realizes these animals are not meant to be kept in captivity,” warned Jerye Mooney, the marine mammal coordinator at the Fund for Animals.9

  SeaWorld’s McCullough rejected the criticism; his company was proud of its record. “I think we do have outstanding animal-care facilities and outstanding animal-care staffs,” he told the Orlando Sentinel. Most of the orcas had died of “old age.” He told the paper that SeaWorld believed killer whales lived twenty-five to thirty-five years. But as the Sentinel noted, “Biologists who have studied wild whales believe female killer whales can live 80 to 90 years, and males, 60 years.”

  On November 7, 1991, SeaWorld filed a formal application with NMFS to import Tilikum, Haida, and Nootka from SeaLand in Canada, despite the growing public concern on both sides of the border about keeping the deadly animals in such close proximity to people. The deal, which included two unborn calves, was estimated to be worth some $5 million.10

  SeaWorld intended to apply for an emergency permit to fly Tilikum to Florida right away. Rapid action was needed “to eliminate his potential interference in the birth, bonding or nursing process” of his two sired offspring, said a letter from the company to NMFS. The feds pushed back. It would take several months, and a period of public comment, before any decision was made on the applications, including the emergency permit for Tilikum. Part of the reason for the delay: Federal officials wanted to carefully consider the death of Keltie Byrne first—especially since SeaWorld trainers entered the water with their killer whales.

  If it was a tough time for SeaWorld and the display industry, things were about to get more troublesome. On November 22, NMFS and its parent, the Department of Commerce, held the federal government’s first ever public meeting on captive killer whales. Officials sat for eight hours listening to “conflicting views about … Orcinus orca,” the Orlando Sentinel reported. Captive killer whales were portrayed “as everything from 3-ton teachers to exploited prisoners, from scientific gold mines to depressed, aggressive orphans.”

  The Humane Society sent its vice president for wildlife and habitat protection, Dr. John Grandy, to testify. “The public is changing its attitude and challenging the ethics of additional orcas in captivity and the well-being of current captives,” he said. Grandy asked the fisheries service to ban the capture and importation of any more killer whales, conduct a thorough investigation of currently held orcas, and “analyze the suitability of orcas for captivity and evaluate educational and research programs utilizing captive orcas.”

  Eight killer whales had died at SeaWorld in the past five years, Grandy continued. Wild whales lived fifty to eighty years; captive orcas rarely made it past thirty. “SeaWorld officials dispute the 50-to-80-year life span and say it is closer to 30 or 35 years,” the Sentinel noted. Grandy said the three SeaLand whales should not be allowed into the United States.

  And then he brought up the dreaded R-word—release: “We request NMFS, together with the public display industry and humane community, to explore the option of rehabilitation and release of captive killer whales into the wild.”

  Dr. Paul Spong was also in Washington to testify. He warned that the separation of a young calf from its mother and tight-knit social group was “a perversion of the natural order of things. We should not be surprised by the bizarre behavior of orcas in captivity.” He talked about the death of Keltie Byrne and said it would be dangerous to send Tilikum, Nootka, and Haida to perform at SeaWorld.

  But the company’s director for research programming, Dan Odell, “downplayed safety concerns during a break in the proceedings,” the Sentinel reported. “How many people get killed riding horses every year?” Odell said. “Whales are big animals. They deserve a lot of respect.”

  Brad Andrews, vice president for SeaWorld’s zoological operations, said the whales in the company’s collection received world-class care and helped to “present marine life in a manner that is meaningful to the public.” He added that SeaWorld’s $130 million breeding program had resulted in a number of scientific advances, such as the discovery that the gestation period for female orcas was not twelve months as believed, but actually seventeen months (it has since been revised to eighteen months). He said that would never have been learned from studying wild orcas. Andrews predicted that SeaWorld’s application to import the Canadian whales would be approved “because there is no reason why it shouldn’t be.”

  The public airing of problems with captive killer whales did nothing to deter SeaWorld’s pursuit of more animals, including the three orcas in Victoria. But the federal government persisted in its due diligence, especially given the animals’ notorious past.

  On December 17, the chief of NMFS’s permit division, Ann Terbush, wrote to Brad Andrews requesting “a discussion of SeaWorld’s consideration of the tragic incident at SeaLand of the Pacific,” and a list of “actions SeaWorld has taken, or will take, to prevent recurrence,” before and after importation.11

  SeaWorld was handed a lot of homework by the feds. “This discussion should include: the factors which SeaLand, the involved Canadian governmental agencies, and SeaWorld believe were involved in the incident (e.g., please submit copies of reports, findings, etc.),” Terbush wrote in a stern bureaucratic tone, “ and the recommendations made by each of these entities.”

  Andrews refused the government’s request. He put the onus of investigating the Byrne affair squarely back on the shoulders of NMFS. His attitude seemed to be: If you want that information, go get it yourselves. “Although we are generally familiar with the circumstances surrounding the accidental death of a trainer in the killer whale pool at SeaLand,” he wrote back to Terbush on December 30, 1991, “we do not have any of SeaLand’s records or reports on this matter. SeaWorld urges NMFS to request whatever documents NMFS believes necessary for NMFS’s information from the appropriate authorities of SeaLand and the Government of Canada.”

  SeaWorld did not believe any safety issues were involved with importing the killer whales. The company, Andrews implied, provided a better, safer
work environment than did its Canadian counterpart. “SeaWorld understands the historical interest regarding the incident at SeaLand,” he wrote, “but SeaWorld believes its present employee training and safety program should be judged on its merits,” especially since conditions were so much better at SeaWorld. “We believe the accident was unique to SeaLand and due to the combination of a poor pool design which prohibited exit from the water, inadequate emergency life saving procedures, and interference by whales unaccustomed to the presence of people in the water.”

  In contrast, all animals at SeaWorld were “highly trained” and used to interacting with trainers and veterinarian staff, Andrews claimed. The whales from SeaLand were “essentially untrained,” however, and would be managed as untrained animals. Moreover, SeaWorld had “implemented an enhanced employee training and safety program,” following the 1987 accident with John Sillick, in which Orky crashed down on him while Sillick rode the back of another whale. “Since implementing this program, there have been no accidents at SeaWorld,” Andrews assured NMFS, adding that “safety for both employees and killer whales is paramount in all our work.”

  There were no other issues with importing the whales, Andrews insisted. “These animals have no apparent medical condition requiring quarantine upon arrival, and SeaWorld personnel who have examined the animals believe the animals are behaviorally normal.”

  Just four days later, on January 3, 1992, SeaWorld applied to NMFS for an emergency permit to immediately import Tilikum, citing “medical reasons.” Haida’s calf, Kyuquot (ky-YOO-kut), had been born on Christmas Eve, and Haida and the pregnant Nootka had chased Tilikum into a small medical pool and threatened him each time he tried to leave. SeaLand decided to lock him up full-time in the dark, enclosed overnight module, away from the newborn and the females, so as not to “interfere with the nursing and bonding process,” said James F. McBain, SeaWorld’s corporate director of veterinary medicine, in a letter to NMFS sent with the permit application.

  The government granted the permit five days later, on January 8. But the Commerce Department was not pleased with the strong-arm tactics and self-imposed “emergency.”

  “Both SeaLand and SeaWorld had at least two months advance knowledge of the imminent birth of at least one, and possibly two, killer whale calves,” NMFS official Nancy Foster chastised Andrews in a letter.12 “SeaLand is responsible for these animals and should have taken steps to ensure that arrangements were made to hold the adult male killer whale, ‘Tilikum,’ at or nearby the SeaLand facility or at another facility in Canada following such births.”

  Presumably, Foster added, SeaWorld shared a “significant interest” in the well-being of the animals. As an adviser to the Canadian park on their proper care, SeaWorld “should have taken such steps even if SeaLand had elected not to do so. Such temporary holding arrangements, whether they involved construction of temporary pens or other enclosures, should have been possible, at least for the few months necessary to consider and decide upon the permit application pending from SeaWorld for the import of these killer whales for public display.” Had SeaWorld done that (and not held Tilikum’s well-being for ransom), “the present need for an emergency permit authorization could have been prevented. However, such reasonable and prudent precautionary steps necessary for the health and welfare of Tilikum were not taken by SeaLand or SeaWorld.”

  SeaWorld rejected that criticism. Brad Andrews protested that it was not SeaWorld’s fault if Haida and Tilikum could not share the same tank with their own offspring. “It’s easy to point the finger and say, ‘You should have made plans,’” Andrews told the media. “We knew what we needed to do, but sometimes the animals don’t follow all of the plans.”13

  He added, “‘When you stop and think about it, he’s in a miserable place and he needs to go to the largest facility in the world to be part of a nice breeding program.”

  Tilikum required a remedy. NMFS sent agents to Victoria to verify SeaWorld’s claims that his situation was, indeed, an emergency. “NMFS has concluded that the best interests of all the killer whales concerned, particularly that of Tilikum, the newborn calf, and the calf expected to be born in the next few months … would be best served if an emergency authorization is granted for Tilikum’s importation,” the agency said.14

  The agreement would permit SeaWorld to temporarily import Tilikum “for the purpose of providing medical treatment and care that is otherwise unavailable in Canada at this time.” Tilikum could remain at SeaWorld while the company went through the normal procedure for a public display permit. But NMFS attached several conditions.

  First and foremost, if the permanent display permit was denied, SeaWorld would assume all costs “for the return of Tilikum to Canada and placement at a suitable facility.” If no facility was found, then SeaWorld would need to arrange for “the return and release of Tilikum at the original location of capture.” In other words: Iceland. SeaWorld would also be banned from displaying Tilikum before a display permit was issued, and NMFS reserved the right to revoke the emergency import at its own discretion.

  SeaWorld agreed to the conditions. But even as the application was under review, Brad Andrews wrote to Iceland’s minister of fisheries, Thorsteinn Palsson. He wanted to know if Iceland would agree to let a killer like Tilikum be released into its national waters.15

  Andrews did not shy away from stating his corporation’s view on the issue. Tilikum’s possible return to Iceland required “an analysis of the likelihood that Tilikum will survive, the possible impact of Tilikum’s release on the fishing industry … and the potential impact of Tilikum’s release on the marine environment,” he warned. Such an environmental impact study would entail an “in-depth analysis of the incidence and distribution of disease and disease causing organisms in the fish and marine mammal populations in Icelandic and Canadian waters, as well as an analysis of any possible latent pathogens being carried by Tilikum.”

  Andrews reminded the Icelandic minister that Tilikum had been “maintained in an ocean pen surrounded by a 500-boat marina and occasionally consumed fish native to the region.” Even with the most thorough medical examination possible, he cautioned, “it is possible that the presence of some subclinical organisms not native to Icelandic waters might not be detected.”

  Andrews did not give the full picture. He failed to mention he had informed the US government that all three whales at SeaLand had no “medical condition requiring quarantine upon arrival,” and that the animals were “behaviorally normal.”

  SeaWorld deemed it unfeasible to return Tilikum to Iceland, Andrews concluded in his “query” to the minister. “However, SeaWorld wishes to consult with the Government of Iceland and obtain its views on these matters, since any such release would be subject to the laws and jurisdiction of Iceland.”

  Palsson agreed with Andrews. It was too risky to take Tilikum back. “The history of this killer whale and the best available scientific information concerning the possible consequences of a return of the animal to its place of collection have been carefully considered,” he wrote back to SeaWorld.16 “This Ministry, with the concurrence of other interested Ministries, has concluded that the return of the killer whale, Tilikum, is not feasible. It is evident the animal may carry diseases that are both undetectable and alien to killer whales and other animal populations in Icelandic waters. Furthermore, it is the view of the Icelandic scientists that the survival of the animal in the wild would be highly questionable.”

  Palsson did not stop there. He took the opportunity to issue a preemptive blanket ban on any captive killer whale from Iceland returning to its native waters.

  “The factors that render the return of the killer whale, Tilikum, infeasible would apply to other killer whales that have been maintained in captivity outside of Iceland. Consequently, this Ministry and the other interested Ministries have concluded that neither the return of this killer whale, nor the return of others now in captivity, will be authorized. We trust that our response full
y and finally disposes of any questions regarding the return of killer whales to their point of collection in Icelandic waters.”

  It was a blow to the anti-captivity movement and a victory for the display industry. The vast majority of orcas in captivity were of Icelandic blood. Now they could never go home. Activists cried foul. They charged SeaWorld with sending a precipitant missive to prime the political pump in Iceland, bias the government, and stave off the return of any captive orcas.

  Andrews scoffed at the suggestion. A few years later he would argue that SeaWorld had been required by NMFS to seek the opinion of Reykjavík. “We don’t play games, and we don’t play baseball,” he said. “The National [Marine] Fisheries Service asked the question. We didn’t. The Icelandic government responded. We didn’t.… So whoever thinks that we lobbed anything into the picture is absolutely off base.”17

  It was official: Tilikum would be sent to Orlando on an emergency basis. Permits for the other whales at SeaLand would be considered more deliberately, NMFS said, as would a permanent display permit for Tilikum. This time, public comment would be allowed. The activists had lost a battle, but were thrilled that Tilikum’s emergency import permit even mentioned the possibility of his return to Iceland. “The fact that it’s beginning to be considered on a serious level is extremely important and exciting to us,” said Paula Jewell, the marine mammal coordinator for HSUS. The group, which was quickly becoming the world’s chief opponent to keeping killer whales in captivity, would soon make an offer to marine biologist Naomi Rose, one that she would find impossible to turn down.

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  Dissertation

  In the fall of 1992, Naomi the doctoral candidate returned to Santa Cruz after leading the School for Field Studies courses to finally complete her overdue dissertation, “The Social Dynamics of Male Killer Whales, Orcinus orca, in Johnstone Strait, British Columbia.” It was the culmination of seven years’ work. Naomi was proud and relieved. The long journey was almost over; she was about to become a bona fide scientist, a doctor, ready to go out in the world and make her difference in it.