Orca captivity Archives

Captivity kiska, MarineLand Canada, Orca captivity

The tragic life of Kiska, Canada’s last captive orca

janeeapril 1 Comment March 24, 2023

Kiska was known as the loneliest whale in the world. She spent the past 12 years completely isolated from any other species and ultimately died in her concrete prison on the 10th of March 2023.

She is gone, but her memory remains…

As heartbreaking as it is, a life in a concrete tank isn’t a life at all. Her suffering is over. And this is her story.

Kiska was captured in the North Atlantic ocean near Iceland in 1979. She was only a calf back then, approximately 3 years old. After a brief stay in an Icelandic aquarium she was sold to MarineLand Canada.

Many don’t know she wasn’t sold alone. Keiko, the famous Free Willy orca was shipped to MarineLand alongside Kiska. We don’t know whether they knew each other beforehand or even belonged to the same pod. We do know they both came from Iceland and spent years in MarineLand together until Keiko was sold to a Mexican park called Reino Aventura in 1985.

While being used as a money-machine to perform tricks for cheering crowds of ignorant people, MarineLand also had other plans for Kiska – breeding. Orcas are elite animals, and of course, the Canadian entertainment industry couldn’t pass up an opportunity to collect more of them. Between 1992 and 2004, Kiska gave birth to 5 calves; Kanuck, Nova, Hudson, Athena and her firstborn, who died too young to receive a name. Unfortunately, none of Kiska’s calves lived longer than a few years, and so, the orca had to go through the trauma of losing a child five times over.

Orcas are highly intelligent and emotional animals. Studies suggest they are capable of feeling deep emotional connections and might even exceed the emotional capacity possessed by humans. The bond between a mother and a calf is so deep it is very hard to imagine the trauma she repeatedly had to face.

We know that in the wild, orcas live together in pods for their whole life. They hunt, care for their young ones and each other just like any family should. They learn from their mothers and grandmothers throughout their whole life and become very emotionally attached. Kiska was robbed of all that.

Kiska’s last companion was Ikaia, a male orca belonging to SeaWorld Orlando, who was initially transferred to MarineLand in hopes to breed with Kiska in the upcoming years, when he’d be old enough. In 2009, thanks to his health issues regarding teeth and MarineLand’s poor ability to do something about it, SeaWorld decided to take Ikaia back. That was the last time Kiska wasn’t completely alone..

From 2011 until 2023, all Kiska could do was stare at the emptiness of the inside of her tank.

Activists took countless footage showing Kiska’s lethargic and self-harming behavior. Lifeless floating in the same place would be replaced by circling around her tank and repeatedly bashing her head over the tank’s glass wall. Phil Demers, also known as the Walrus Whisperer, has been raising awareness about her horrible conditions for years and managed to put videos of Kiska in front of the eyes of millions by using social media, appearing on TV news and in newspapers, and also as a guest on famous podcasts.

Unfortunately, nothing was done. Kiska died in that very same tank. As much as it breaks the hearts of many of us, it also gives us a certain peace knowing she’s no longer suffering.

In June 2019 the Canadian Parliament passed the bill S-203, the Ending the Captivity of Whales and Dolphins Act, which makes Kiska the very last captive orca in Canada ever.

Let’s not let her death be in vain. The fight doesn’t end with Kiska. There are still orcas and other cetaceans suffering in captivity all over the world. We still have time to change the world for them but we have to be louder than ever. We have to unite, push hard and be strong. Let’s be the voices for the ones who cannot speak for themselves.

If you’d like to be a part of the change and help end cetacean captivity once and for all, follow @orcalegacy, @walrus_whisperer and @urgentseas. Share the content, help spread the knowledge, donate. If you’d like to do even more and have some unique skills, shoot us a message. There is strength in numbers and we are building an army.

With hopes for better future,

Jana

Video source: UrgentSeas
Image source: Mike Dibattista, TorontoStar

Captivity, SRKW miami seaquarium, Orca captivity, srkw, tokitae, tokitae orca

Tokitae

Courtney Hall 1 Comment November 19, 2022

Your story starts around 1966, Tokitae. From the cool, crisp sea your family has lived in for generations, your mother guides you to the surface to draw your first breath. You implicitly trust that she will always be there to help you navigate through life.

Your whole community–the Southern Resident killer whales–gathers to celebrate your birth. Excited calls ripple through the waves around you. A new life! Welcome to the family, beloved!

1970

You are four years old. Young, sprightly. You spend your time playing and swimming. It is the only life you’ve ever known.

You live with your family, who mean everything to you. Your mother is your world. She has taught you everything you need to know to survive, from where to hunt to how to communicate, just as her mother taught her. You can’t imagine a life without her, and you plan to stay with her forever.

AUGUST 8, 1970

One day, tension spreads through your family. There are boats nearby. You don’t like boats. They are loud and interrupt meal time.

There are nets. You don’t like nets, either. You can play in the kelp, your mother taught you, but stay away from nets!

The boats won’t leave. They get closer and closer. You and your family try to get away, but the boats won’t let you.

Soon the nets get closer and closer, too. You and some of your young relatives are trapped.

Panic fills you as you realize your mother is on the other side of the nets. She is panicked, too. She frantically calls out to you, Tokitae. Terrified, you call back. She tries to reach you, but she cannot.

All you want is to be by your mother’s side again. You don’t understand what is happening. You have never been so scared in your life.

Southern Resident killer whales being captured in Penn Cove, Washington on August 8, 1970. Photo courtesy of the Whale Sanctuary Project.

Five of your family members die this day. Four were just babies. The fifth was a mother trying to reach her calf from the other side of the nets.

The rest of you that were captured are separated. You don’t know where the others are going, but you will never see them again.

SEPTEMBER 1970

Eventually you are taken to your new home. Except it doesn’t feel like home. It’s much hotter than you’re used to, and you can’t escape the sun. The water doesn’t feel right. The food is different. There aren’t the usual sounds of the ocean.

You can’t swim far or dive deep. When you try, you are met with walls. Your real home doesn’t have walls.

You’re alone at first. You’re used to always having others like you nearby. You miss your family terribly. You’ve never been away from your mother before. You don’t know what to do without her. You’re just a child.

There are humans, though, and they give you food. They’re not the same as your family, but you think they will take care of you.

One of the humans gives you a name. Tokitae. The human says it means “Nice day, pretty colors.” Later, some other humans give you another name. Lolita. You long to hear your family call the name they gave you in your own language.

(You don’t know this, but you have yet another name–this one given by the Lummi Nation, who have spiritual ties to your community and consider you their sacred relation. The Lummi call the Southern Resident killer whales Sk’aliCh’elh. Therefore, you are Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut: “Daughter of Sk’aliCh’elh.”)

The humans say you are very courageous and gentle. Deep down, you are scared and lonely.

You learn to perform for the humans who come to see you. You get to be a star.

Tokitae performing at Miami Seaquarium. Photo by @cetabaker, courtesy of InherentlyWild.co.uk.

But you don’t want to be a star. You just want to be a regular orca with your family.

You never stop missing your family. Or the open sea you used to swim in. The fish you could catch whenever you wanted. The kelp you played with. The unwavering presence and guidance of your mother. Home.

NOVEMBER 1970

You can hear another of your kind, but you cannot see him. He is in another set of walls. You call out to each other, and you recognize the other’s calls. You realize this means he is from your community. Family.

(You don’t know this, but he was captured in the Salish Sea–the same sea you were captured in–about a year and a half before you.)

The humans call him Hugo. You know that’s not the name his family gave him, though.

Soon you get to live with Hugo. The humans who visit love to see you and Hugo perform together.

You are thrilled to be with someone like you again. Your kind is incredibly social and intelligent. You are not meant to be alone.

Hugo (left) and Tokitae. Photo by The Miami News, courtesy of Sara Farrell and InherentlyWild.co.uk.

MARCH 4, 1980

You are 14 years old. Hugo, about 15. You two have shared a tank for almost 10 years, living together, swimming together, performing together. Friends.

Hugo never adjusted to life in a tank as well as you did. You don’t like walls, either, certainly, but they really frustrate Hugo. Sometimes he rams his head into them.

One day, he rams his head into the wall especially hard. This time it ends badly. He stops moving. Some humans take him away. You never see him again.

Hugo’s body being removed from Miami Seaquarium, after which it was likely dumped in a landfill. Photo by Miami Seaquarium, courtesy of Ric O’Barry’s Dolphin Project.

You’re alone again. Devastated. The humans say you are still so courageous and gentle.

You know Hugo was courageous, too, just in a different way. He held on for 11 years of confinement, but he could only face those walls for so long. Nothing was more important to him than his freedom–no matter how it may come.

You understand why he rammed his head into the walls. That was his way of being courageous. After all, he is no longer held captive. He is at peace now. He is free.

But you are not free. You are still here. Alone.

(You don’t know this yet, but you won’t see another of your kind after Hugo dies. You don’t know your loneliness will continue for at least 40 more years.)

2022

You are 56 years old, Tokitae. Wise, mature. Still courageous, still gentle. You have spent 52 years swimming circles within your walls.

You don’t perform any more. You’re not feeling well, so the humans are giving you lots of attention. You don’t think it’s your time, though. Not yet.

If you were in your real home, you could live for decades longer. You could have decades longer to be near your family, hear the sounds of the sea, feel the waves on your skin, sense the energy of the living ocean.

You still dream of your family, the sea, home. For over 50 years, you’ve never stopped dreaming.

Tokitae and her Pacific white-sided dolphin tank mate, Lii, in March 2022. Photo courtesy of Louis Aguirre and WPLG Local 10 News.

WE KNOW

We cannot begin to know what it’s like to be an orca or to live in captivity. But there is a lot on our side that you don’t know either, Tokitae.

You don’t know that your freedom was purchased for $20,000 in 1970–the equivalent of around $153,000 in 2022. To you, your freedom is priceless.

You don’t know that you are the last surviving Southern Resident killer whale in captivity. Of the more than 50 orcas captured from your community in the 1960s and ‘70s, you are the only one remaining.

You don’t know that your presumed mother is still alive in the wild, potentially in her 90s, or that we call her “Ocean Sun.” (But we don’t know what you call her.)

You don’t know that you have spent 52 of your 56 years at an oceanarium called Miami Seaquarium in Florida–nearly 3,000 miles (4,828 km) from where you were born.

You don’t know that Hugo isn’t the only cetacean that died at Miami Seaquarium. 116 dolphins have died there, too.

You don’t know that you live in the smallest orca tank in the United States—a tank so small that it violates the U.S. Animal Welfare Act, just as your lack of protection from the sun and weather does. Your tank is 13 ft (4 m) shorter than required under the Animal Welfare Act. For an orca 21 ft (6.4 m) long and weighing 7,000 lb (3,175 kg) such as yourself, the size of your tank is downright abhorrent.

Diagram of Tokitae’s tank at Miami Seaquarium. Image courtesy of Save Lolita.

Tokitae’s tank without water. Image courtesy of Save Lolita.

You don’t know that Miami Seaquarium disregarded its veterinarian’s recommendations about your care. The veterinarian warned your trainers not to have you perform certain behaviors that could endanger your health and safety. The warnings were ignored, causing you to injure your jaw and become overexerted.

You don’t know that Miami Seaquarium was severely underfeeding most of its dolphins this year to encourage them to perform, as discovered in a recent inspection by the United States Department of Agriculture. The dolphins’ food rations were cut by up to 60% without the permission of the attending veterinarian, who took months to notice the dolphins’ resulting emaciation and aggressive behavior. You might suspect this, though, since your own food intake was previously decreased, as well–not to mention the rotten fish you were fed at times.

You don’t know the full scope of the atrocities that have occurred at Miami Seaquarium, both under its former ownership and its new owner, The Dolphin Company.

You don’t know,Toki, but we know. And because we know, we cannot be unmoved. If we know but stay silent, we are complicit.

We cannot condone you staying at Miami Seaquarium any longer than necessary. You were never meant to live in a tank, much less one so horrifically small. You were meant to swim over 100 miles (161 km) per day and dive hundreds of feet deep. You were made for the ocean. You belong to yourself, your family, your ancestors, the sea–not to us.

You have been courageous for 52 years. Now it is our turn. People all over the world are pulling for your release, and we will be steadfast in the fight for your freedom. There are demonstrations and prayer ceremonies and petitions. There are plans and meetings and fundraisers.

The Lummi Nation consider it their Xa xalh Xechnging–their sacred obligation–to bring you back to your natal waters of the Salish Sea. They are searching for an appropriate site for a seaside sanctuary to be your Xwlemi Tokw–your Lummi home. Returning you to the Salish Sea will allow you to thrive, not merely survive. It will allow you to heal.

Building a seaside sanctuary will take time, though–time that you may not have. Until your Xwlemi Tokw is ready, it is hoped that you can be transferred to a facility that is better equipped to care for you in a larger tank.

Right now, your future is uncertain. But we promise you this:

Beautiful, courageous, gentle Tokitae, Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut, Daughter of the Southern Residents, Daughter of the Salish Sea: You are so very beloved.

We will not let you languish in a cramped tank for the rest of your days. We will not let you become the 118th cetacean to die at Miami Seaquarium.

That is not your final chapter. That is not how your story will end.

Written for Toki by Elizabeth Hartman

Tokitae. Photo by Peter, courtesy of InherentlyWild.co.uk.

References

Aguirre, L. [@louisaguirre]. (2022, March 3). According to new license, The Dolphin Company will no longer be able to post any social media images of Toki [Tweet]. Twitter. https://twitter.com/LOUISAGUIRRE/status/1499526047230042114/photo/1

Feldman, D. (2019, July 10). New doc ‘Long Gone Wild’ details how orcas suffer in captivity, offers hope with seaside sanctuary project. Forbes. https://www.forbes.com/sites/danafeldman/2019/07/10/new-doc-long-gone-wild-details-how-orcas-suffer-in-captivity-offers-hope-with-seaside-sanctuary-project/?sh=2d70fe214069

Inherently Wild. (n.d.). Tokitae’s gallery. https://inherentlywild.co.uk/lolitas-gallery/

Orca Network. (n.d.). The capture. https://www.orcanetwork.org/tokitaesstory/blog-post-title-two-6scey

Orca Network. (n.d.). It’s time for Tokitae to return home. https://www.orcanetwork.org/retire-lolita

Orca Network. (n.d.). Tokitae’s life now. https://www.orcanetwork.org/tokitaesstory/blog-post-title-three-tslkw

Ric O’Barry’s Dolphin Project. (n.d.). Miami Seaquarium. https://www.dolphinproject.com/take-action/miami-seaquarium/

Sacred Sea. (n.d.). Bringing Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut to her Xwlemi Tokw. https://sacredsea.org/xwlemi-tokw/

Sands, C. (2022, August 2). One dolphin’s story – Hugo. Ric O’Barry’s Dolphin Project. https://www.dolphinproject.com/blog/one-dolphins-story-hugo/

Save Lolita. (n.d.). Help fight for her freedom. https://www.savelolita.org/

Save Lolita. (n.d.). Photo of Lolita’s tank. https://www.savelolita.org/tank-photo

Tierney, L. (2010). Detailed discussion of laws concerning orcas in captivity. Michigan State University College of Law Animal Legal & Historical Center. https://www.animallaw.info/article/detailed-discussion-laws-concerning-orcas-captivity

United States Department of Agriculture. (2019). Animal Welfare Act and animal welfare regulations. https://www.aphis.usda.gov/animal_welfare/downloads/bluebook-ac-awa.pdf

The Whale Sanctuary Project. (n.d.). Lolita: Fame and misfortune. https://whalesanctuaryproject.org/whales/lolita-fame-misfortune/

Captivity Kohana, Loro Parque, Orca captivity

Kohana – Another orca death at Loro Parque!

janeeapril 0 Comments September 21, 2022

On Semptember 15th Loro Parque announced yet another death of their orcas. This time it was Kohana who passed before her time. This 20-year-old female was very young and died decades short of her life expectancy.

What is more than alarming is the fact that this is a third orca who died prematurely at Loro Parque in only 18 months and three days. Last year it was Skyla who died at age 17 and only five months later, Ula – daughter of Morgan, a famous orca who was found as a calf, rehabilitated, and never returned to her natural home. Ula was only 2 years old…

Image of Kohana by Diva Flora Nikolova

At this point it’s more than obvious there is something seriously wrong with the care for orcas at this Zoo from Tenerife. Their statement after Kohana’s passing is nothing short of embarassing. “The memory of Kohana … will make our mission even stronger: to provide the best care and welfare to the different species of our animal embassy.”

This leaves four orcas still breathing at Loro Parque. Keto, Tekoa, Adan and Morgan. It all makes us sad, angry, and wonder how many more of these highly intelligent beings have to die there for this marine prison to be shut down.

Image by Diva Flora Nikolova

WHO WAS KOHANA

Kohana was born at SeaWorld San Diego in 2002 and separated from her family at only 3 years old to be shipped to Loro Parque, Tenerife.

She spent her whole life confined to a concrete tank and forced to perform demeaning tricks in exchange for food. All for human entertainment and money, of course.

In 2010, she gave birth to Adán ( male) and in 2012 to Victoria (female). Their father was Kohana’s half-uncle Keto, who had been shipped to Loro Parque with her. Adan is still alive, but Victoria died after less than a year.

Kohana’s father was Tilikum, the famous orca whose story is documented in BLACKFISH. Being conceived via artificial insemination, she only met her father briefly, 1 year and 9 months after being born when she was transferred to SeaWorld Orlando with her mother.

When Kohana was transferred to Loro Parque on February 13, 2006, she was not only separated from her mother Takara but also her baby brother Trua.

Image of Kohana by Diva Flora Nikolova

Loro Parque has announced that a full necropsy will be conducted. But what truth have we ever learned from a necropsy done at an entertainment facility? It can never hide the real truth…

Whales will never thrive in concere tanks!