After the young orca’s death decades before his natural lifespan, separated from his family, after weeks of starvation, and a skin disease brought on by low salinity waters, how does the Vancouver Aquarium justify his capture? According to Newman, “I love that whale. I think that capturing it was the best thing I ever did.”
Sometime between 1964 and 1967, as the US enters the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights Movement slowly, haltingly bends the moral arc of the universe towards justice, a baby orca slips from her mother’s body into the Salish Sea off the coast of Washington State. She is a strong swimmer already, staying at her mother’s side, nursing and touching and communicating as she is welcomed into her mother’s family.
As the days and years pass, she continues to swim with her mother,
expanding her repertoire of her pod’s unique dialect, which she’s
been hearing since she was in utero. She learns to hunt and eat the
Chinook salmon comprising the majority of her diet. She spyhops,
frolics, and plays with other young orcas in her pod. Like all orcas
born into the three pods of the Southern Resident orcas, she will
stay with her mother for life—or she would have, had she been born
just over a decade later.
It will be two decades before people start to track the declining
population of Chinook salmon her family eats, three decades before
the salmon will be listed as threatened under the Endangered Species
Act, which, at the time of our little orca’s birth, is still six to
nine years away from being passed by Congress. In the 1960s, the
PCBs and other environmental contaminants that will amplify up the
food chain are reaching their peak, concentrating in the blubber of
the orcas and in the fatty milk the young orca drinks from her
mother. These contaminants will threaten the health of her family
for decades to come.
But more significantly in the life of our little orca, she has been
born into a time of changing public sentiment about members of her
species. Since Pliny the Elder described orcas in the first century
AD as “an enormous mass of flesh armed with teeth,” most humans,
except for some populations of indigenous people, have feared orcas
as predatory monsters. Even their latin name, Orcinus Orca, means a
barrel-shaped cask of the realms of the dead. Their common name,
killer whales, likely came from a mistranslation of “whale killers,”
since some populations of orcas, who are actually the largest
species of dolphin, work together to hunt and kill whales. Even in
the years surrounding our little orca’s birth, people aboard fishing
boats often shoot orcas because they consider them competition for
fish. And yet, it is not bullets that threaten our little orca, it
is not fear and hatred of her species, but rather, fascination and
curiosity and a different sort of desire to dominate.
....
Plesae read THE ENTIRE ARTICLE HERE - an in-depth look at Lolita's sad history of Lolita (PDF)