Dancing with orcas: Does closeness really matter?
Thursday, March 11th, 2010I’m happy to share this space today with Kitsap Sun reporter Steven Gardner, who offers his personal perspective on orcas.
BY STEVEN GARDNER
Journalists received what might be deserved suspicion of being haters of George W. Bush. If it’s true, I don’t think it’s for the reason most people surmise, that we’re all socialists at heart intent on killing every American Amendment that isn’t the first one.
If we disliked Bush the younger, it had more to do with his reported statement to Joe Biden that he doesn’t “do nuance.”
Reporters dance in nuance. We eat it. For the purposes of this blog, let’s say we swim in it. When we retire, the hardest thing to unload is all the “other hands” we’ve considered. Dunagan has a file cabinet full of them. When Bush said he didn’t do nuance, it was like he was insulting all our mothers.
Dabbling in nuance gives us room to partake in things we might not otherwise do were we among those who take stands. In late 2007 I took my family to SeaWorld in San Diego. In my heart I’m really troubled by the idea of watching animals that can travel entire oceans confined to pools a little bigger than the one I had in my backyard as a kid. But it was when I was a kid that my affection for orcas began, because of a splashing I got from Shamu.
Growing up in Southern California, it was the only way I was going to see orcas in person. As the years went on, I managed to see probably a dozen dolphin shows. I don’t think I grew to have any angst about it until I was working construction during a summer off from college and was sent to a house in an exclusive neighborhood in Laguna Beach. There, on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, I could see a school of dolphins (Maybe they were porpoises. I couldn’t swear under oath that they weren’t two-liter soda bottles with fins.) swimming by beyond the waves.
It sounds cliche, but something can happen to a guy like me who suddenly sees something in a different context, particularly a natural context. Not only did it make me feel good about them, it made me feel good about myself, that I live in a world where animals can be in a place they’ve been for thousands or millions of years, that we haven’t institutionalized all of them. It’s not a thought that comes naturally when you spend most of your days winding your way through asphalt and concrete.
That elation came again when I moved here and the Orcas visited Silverdale. Then on Christmas Day in 2004 I was on a ferry to Seattle and saw an orca off in the distance. That chance sighting was better than the sure thing you get in San Diego.
Still, I thought maybe my kids would appreciate the SeaWorld show. They did.
I, on the other hand, had much the same reaction Steve Lopez from the Los Angeles Times did when he went.. I wouldn’t say I was creeped out, but I was uneasy.
I expected a fun, maybe funny presentation. What you get is a full-on, well-orchestrated production that clearly had been crafted following the pressure that must have come once Free Willy was released in theaters.
And yet months later, when another friend shared pictures of her daughter being one of those who got to go out and touch the whale, I was genuinely happy for her.
Of course the idea that she could have been yanked by her pony tail into the water — something that has apparently never happened in the wild — changes all that.
I’d rather see all those Shamus out in the wild. I would have felt so relieved if SeaWorld officials would have said, “We get it now.” On the other hand, maybe the Tacoma Pocket Gopher wouldn’t have vanished in 1970 if someone had made money by teaching a few of them to jump through hoops. On the other other hand, maybe these animals should matter to me even if I never get to see them.




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