I’m still in a state of grief over the death of the whale trainer at Sea World.
This did not have to happen and should not have happened but the fact that it did does not surprise me.
How on earth can any people with a shred of compassion believe that a creature the size of a killer whale can find pleasure in being alive while confined to a tank typical of those found at modern day marine parks? The answer is that it simply cannot.
A life for a sentient creature intended to roam (and rule) the world’s oceans now forced to wiggle like a goldfish in a bowl and to boot, perform stupid pet tricks, its only reward the most basic staple of food.
I know why this practice still exists. For only one reason: corporate profit.
Not education, as the owners of this circus would have us believe. Not even the less lofty purpose of entertainment. Because it makes anyone who can grasp the cruelty of it only shudder and cringe for the trapped beasts that want and deserve far, far better.
Freedom.
In this day and age one does not need a marine park to witness the glory of whales. Instead we can witness them in their natural habitats from the sail of a cruise ship, or even in a spacious sanctuary designed to allow the onlooker a chance to catch a coveted glimpse, which brings to mind a magical trip Charlie and I took to a state park in Maine. One early morning we hiked deep into the woods to a foggy-shrouded lake and caught sight of a moose feeding on moss at the lake’s floor. (It looked more like she was washing her hair!) I was awestruck at the setting, and the entire experience of seeking and finding just a faraway sighting of such a beautiful animal.
That’s how it should be. Not at all what you will experience at Sea World.
One of my many jobs was as a salesgirl and photographer at Miami’s Seaquarium many moons ago. It was a summer job and I was 16 years old. I worked in the souvenir shop but one of my other daily tasks was to drive a golf cart loaded with film to sell to tourists. During breaks on my rounds I would often stop in to visit the residents of the facility behind closed doors. The nurse sharks were a favorite. And of course the dolphins.
They, like the killer whales, had excruciatingly miniscule living quarters. A small circular tank in the stark sunlight. It was my habit to come to the tank between shows and hang my folded arms over the edge, awaiting a dolphin that might want to come talk to me.
It was not unusual to be approached by one or another, who swam to me and stopped just a few feet away. Again and again, a dolphin came toward me and turned his head this way and that, the silent gesture of curiosity sometimes shared between species.
It’s also not unusual to mistake a dolphin’s facial expression for a smile. If one is tempted to see a smile, if you look long enough, and deeply enough into a captive dolphin’s eyes — looking as you would from a human being’s perspective — you will only see a terrible and indelible sadness.
In my lifetime I will feel immense happiness when these facilities for profit are closed forever. Maybe then I can stop shaking my head.
So true! I always said to Elissa when she was a child- that is a lamb, that is a cow- she is now a much more conscientious eater than we were growing up!
BTW- we drink almond milk here- I like the texture and flavor far more than soy- and the health benefits as well- have you tried it?
I miss your posts…