SeaWorld's Captivity of Orca Whales

Paddling quietly in bright, skinny kayaks across an inlet of the Pacific ocean in Alaska, a group of 5 other girls and I scoured the water line shadowed by high mountain. Looking for the spray of a whale after hearing it's load groan of a breath under the water, we were hopefully anticipating seeing an Orca. As we glided along the salty and calm water, a huge spray erupted from the water. Only a short distance away a humungous Orca whale breaches from the water, doing a dramatic twist in the air before landing back in to the water. Awestruck, we stopped and drifted along in the current waiting for something to happen again. Waiting for just one whale tail to slap against the water, we were in disbelief when three others slapped their tail against the water's surface. Traveling in a pack, they were a solid unit. They continuously breached out of the water, their magnificent black and white features jumping in and out of the water. Staying close together, they playfully intertwined their directions, swimming in loops and moaning at each other. Soon they had passed, and we sat in our kayaks in complete denial of what we had just seen, and complete awareness of our insignificance in comparison to this beautiful family of Orcas who had just playfully swam in front of us.

Later that night, while camping by the shore, we once again heard the familiar sound of a whale's spray. We spent a half an hour watching an Orca swim around at least 20 feet away from the shore, moaning, spraying, and swimming up and under the water. The whale often got very close and we were very strangely almost instantly in love with this whale, and the way it was so curious and seemingly friendly.

Hours after the whale had left, the group's discussion had shifted to the recent documentary, Blackfish, which tells the truth about a death of a trainer at SeaWorld in 2010, in Orlando, Florida. The name of the trainer that died was Dawn. Her death was due to injuries from an attack by one of the Orca whales SeaWorld had in captivity, Tilikum. Tilikum, who was captured at a young age like almost all of the Orcas that SeaWorld takes from the wild, was unusually big. He was captured in 1983 in the North Atlantic, and by the age of two he was already 11.5 feet long.

Not only was Tillikum responsible for her death, but also two other deaths previously. Dawn was blamed for her own death, people said that she should have been a better trainer, or not had her hair in a pony tail (the pony tail was dangerous to have because the Orca would want to bite it.)

However, Orca whales are very smart. The death of Dawn was no accident, Tilikum was clearly upset and did this on purpose, and we need to face the facts.

At this point, what needs to be looked at is why Tilikum was upset and why Tilikum killed Dawn and two others. The answer if very simple. Captivity.

The conditions in which the beautiful animals are kept in are insane and completely unjust. They are kept in small little pools at night with all the lights turned off. They have no room to swim and sometimes two whales are kept in these small areas, causing social issues between the two whales making them violent. In one instance, two whales had a baby. This baby was taken away from the mother. For weeks and weeks the mother cried out the her child, and sulked in the corner of her tank.

These animals are treated like slaves, constantly working and treated terribly. The damage to the psychology of the animals is the reason why they are becoming so violent to these trainers. The animals deserve to be in the wild.

When my group and I saw them, they were in no way harmful or scary to us. They were the most beautiful things we had ever seen. They were curious and magical.

There are no instances of Orcas being dangerous or randomly deadly in the wild, only in captivity. It is hard to understand what somebody could find so obscure about that statement. It says it all. They are only violent when we treat them terribly. So the simple solution is to free the animals and let them live where they belong. The wild.

Trailer for Blackfish: