Once August’s fate was secure, we threw ourselves into feeding him and planning his release. He was gaining weight and getting more active every day. He zoomed around his pen now, blowing and squeaking. His whole body looked bigger, as if he’d grown in the three weeks he’d been with us.
Arden came to find us one morning in the kitchen, where Cooper, Olivia, and I were all busy loading August’s first morning feed into a bucket.
“Kids!” she called, opening the door suddenly.
“Whooa!” I juggled a fat silver salmon. The live fish were slippery. The salmon flopped out of my hands and slithered onto the floor, where it lay there, flopping.
“Sorry,” Arden said.
“That’s OK.” I grabbed the fish and threw him into a bucket of water. He deserved at least a brief break before being eaten by a hungry orca.
“What’s up, Mom?” Cooper asked, looking up from where he was scooping up more fish.
Arden had a big smile on her face. “I have exciting news for you.”
“The release! August is being released!” Olivia burst out.
“You guessed it!” Arden grinned. “We met with the vet, plus Jason and Greg from NOAA, and they all agree with Dr. Roth and me that he’s ready. He’s gained enough weight. I’m sure it’ll be sad without him, but you know we want him to go as soon as possible. The sooner he leaves humans, the better chance he has of adjusting to the wild.”
“Any luck finding his pod?” I asked. I plopped another fish into the bucket.
Arden’s face grew more serious. “That’s the tricky part. We can find the pod through satellite tracking. A few of the other orcas had trackers on them. But then the pod needs to take him back in. His mother is dead, we know that almost certainly. It’s my hope that the next closest female, his aunt, will accept him.”
“If she doesn’t?” I almost didn’t want to ask. But I had to know.
Arden’s face told us what would happen. But none of us seemed willing to say it aloud. Instead, Arden took out a piece of paper from her pocket and unfolded it with a brisk snap. “OK, want to hear the game plan?”
“Yes!” Cooper said. We all stopped what we were doing and gathered around.
“We’ll get August into the stretcher and lift him onto the crane boat, just like when we rescued him,” Arden explained. “He’ll ride on the boat, on that foam pad, but this time, he’ll be partially submerged to keep him cool and moist. The cloths were OK for the short trip back to SJS, but they’re not enough to keep his body cool and wet for a longer trip. It’s eight hours by high-speed catamaran to the place we think we’ll find his pod.”
Arden looked up. “The length of the trip will be stressful for him. We’ll check his vitals, but you kids need to know that even at this late stage, he might not make it.”
My heart speeded up just hearing her words, but I nodded as if I were brave. The idea that August would die after all was terrifying, but saying that wouldn’t help anyone.
“OK!” Arden consulted her paper again. “Once we’ve arrived at the pod’s location, a barge with a crane will meet us. We’ll use the catamaran as a base to help make a small, temporary pen, near the shore. August will spend the night in the pen, and hopefully, the pod will hear his vocalizations and come to investigate. Then we’ll release him!”
“And cross our fingers,” Olivia said.
“Well yes.” Arden stuffed the paper back into her pocket. “There will be a good amount of that as well.”
* * *
After that, time seemed to move much faster. The next four days flew by, and before I knew it, I was shivering in the chilly, pre-dawn dark next to Cooper and Olivia. Small boats idled in the calm waters of August’s pen. The stretcher was ready.
This was it. Everything we’d worked for had come down to this moment. But I couldn’t feel relief yet. August was still in danger.
I hugged my sweatshirt around my shoulders and pulled up the hood. The fabric was already damp with sea spray. A backpack at my feet held a toothbrush and a change of underwear. We’d spend the night on the catamaran once we reached the pod site.
“He looks good,” Cooper said to us, trying to sound encouraging. “He looks strong.”
I nodded. He was right. August did look strong. He was diving and breaching and chirping energetically in his pen. He’d been trying to get close to humans more frequently over the past week and I saw him now swim up to Mom’s small boat, rubbing against it.
That was dangerous behavior. Mom and Arden were right. It was time for August to go. He needed other orcas, not humans or boats as some kind of substitute.
I felt a strong sense of déjà vu as I watched the scene in front of us from our place on the shore. Two small boats idled, Jason and Greg and Mom and Arden crouching in them. The crane boat sat just outside the pen.
It was just like the rescue mission we’d gone on to save August. The only difference now was the high-speed catamaran floating beside the crane boat. August would make the journey back to his pod on that boat.
“Let’s go!” Arden swung her arm at the crane boat. I saw the crane operator give him the thumbs-up sign.
Mom and Jason took out a bucket of fish to get August’s attention and tossed one into the water. The orca snapped it up and swam over for another.
“Please, August,” Olivia said aloud. “Please be calm. Don’t hurt yourself.”
Mom and Arden and the other adults were calm in their boats, but I could see the quiet focus on their faces. They were being careful with every movement they made.
As he had before, Greg quietly unraveled the stretcher under August, and Jason drew it up and secured it on the other side. Mom signaled the crane operator. A whirring of machinery broke through the quiet of the early morning, and August rose—huge, dripping, like a giant baby—into the air.
“Oh!” I cried out suddenly. “I feel so sorry for him!”
“Why?” Olivia asked, putting a hand on my arm. “We’re helping him. You know that.”
“It’s just that he trusts us,” I tried to explain, watching August swing gently through the air. “He found this nice home in his pen, with fish and everything, and now he doesn’t know what we’re doing to him. We know he’s going to a better home, but he doesn’t. What if he’s scared?”
Olivia put her arm around my shoulders and squeezed. To my surprise, Cooper did the same from the other side. We stood like that, linked, and watched as August was lowered gently to the basin waiting for him on the catamaran.
For a moment, no one breathed as the catamaran crew worked like lightning to release the stretcher and settle August into his water bath. We couldn’t see what they were doing. The boat railing was in the way. But then, suddenly, the black, wet stretcher swung high and free above the boat and we all cheered. August was in the boat.
I grabbed the backpack at my feet. “Let’s go!” I said to Olivia and Cooper. They shouldered their backpacks too. The two small boats motored back to shore, followed by the catamaran. Everyone piled out of the small boats and onto the catamaran. We climbed aboard too.
The motor revved, and then we were speeding out of the cove and into open water. Cooper, Olivia, and I hurried over to August. The catamaran was much faster and smoother than the crane boat we’d ridden on during the rescue. I could feel the cold, constant dampness of the spray blowing back into my face and hear the rhythmic slapping of the waves against the boat.
Arden was already at August’s side, checking his pulse with her fingers and looking into his eyes. “So far, so good,” she said, standing up. “You three keep him company while I go let the captain know.”
We huddled around August. He lay on the same thick, white foam pad we’d used during his rescue, but this time, salty seawater filled a black rubber basin all around him. It came all the way up to the top of his head where his blowhole was.
“August, you�
��re going home,” Olivia told him. He chirped in reply, as if he understood her.
We rubbed his head, his black skin squeaking under our hands. Cooper sang him a song about the whale and the octopus in the itty-bitty sea—one his mom used to sing when he was little, he explained. Then we all told August a story about how he’d find his pod and that his aunt might be his new mother.
The hours passed slowly, broken by the damp sandwiches we ate huddled on the deck and frequent checks on August. The sun inched up in the sky, sparkling on the waves, and then started back down again.
As late afternoon arrived, Mom checked August’s vital signs again. She and Arden went into the cabin to look at the GPS, and then came out again. They were both smiling.
“This is it!” Mom said to us. “August’s vital signs are steady. And we’ve located the pod. The captain’s been tracking them for twenty miles. They’re resting about a mile away, so this is where we stop.”
We all squealed and hugged each other, and just as we did so, the engine quieted to a low rumble. We gradually slowed, then stopped.
I untangled myself from the embrace and looked around. We weren’t far from the shore; I could see cliffs topped with dark pine trees in the distance. The gray waves looked chilly and deep, but this would be August’s new home.
For a moment I was sad. But then I thought back to the aqua water and the loudspeaker at Oceanarium, and I was so, so glad.
Chapter 10
We had to get August off the boat and into open water as fast as possible.
“Every minute he’s on this boat is putting stress on his system,” Arden told us as the barge meeting us slid into sight. A crane sat on it, just like the one from the crane boat at the initial rescue.
Jason and Greg were hard at work stretching weighted nets and stakes to create a small, temporary pen right off the edge of the boat. That was where August would spend the night. We had to see if the pod would find him by hearing his vocalizations. And then we had to see what the pod would do.
“Done!” Jason said as he and Greg heaved themselves back into the boat. They were both wearing wet suits. The water up here was frigid all year long. Perfect for an orca, of course. “Let’s move this boy out!”
They looped the stretcher, which was still under August, up. The barge pulled up alongside us, and we waved at the crew as they maneuvered the crane around and dropped down the metal cables. Jason and Greg hooked them to the stretcher as they’d done before.
Olivia and Cooper’s faces were serious. “I want to feel relieved,” Olivia said, “but there are still so many steps. Getting August all the way out here was just the first one.”
Mom overheard. “You’re right, Olivia,” she said. “I’m glad you realize that. We still have a long way to go before we know if August will be accepted by his pod.”
“Mom, could they attack him?” I’d been wanting to ask that for a while but hadn’t been able to make the words come out. I’d been too scared to hear the answer.
Mom looked at us for a long, silent moment. She seemed to be trying to determine if we could handle the truth.
“It’s more likely that they would ignore him,” she finally said. “And if they don’t accept him into the pod, he’ll be right back where he started: alone.”
The thought of August alone in the vast ocean was so upsetting. I had to push the idea out of my mind. This had to work. That was the only possibility I was willing to consider right now.
“All right, on three!” Greg called to the crane crew. “One! Two! Three!” He and Jason quickly jumped into the temporary pen.
The crane whirred, and August rose dripping from his bath, encased in the black stretcher. The crane pivoted, then clanked, and began lowering him down into his new, temporary home.
With a small splash, August entered the water. Jason and Greg quickly unhooked the stretcher. August swam out, and the now-empty stretcher was hoisted back into the air. Jason and Greg swam out of the pen as we all cheered.
August was in! He was another step closer to being reunited with his pod. We’d done all we could—the rest was up to the orcas.
* * *
The night was long and cold. Cooper, Olivia, and I slept on the narrow bunks in the cabin, while Mom and the others bedded down on the deck. I turned over and over on the thin mattress. I couldn’t stop thinking about August, swimming alone in the pen in the black sea, and wondering if his pod had found him yet. Above and below me, I could hear Cooper and Olivia shifting around, and I knew they were awake too.
Finally a faint light filtered through the tiny porthole in the cabin. We all rolled out of bed, cramped and rubbing our eyes.
“I wonder how—” I started to say to the others, but then I stopped. There was a noise outside—make that a lot of noises. Squeaking and chirping and whistling.
My eyes met Cooper’s and Olivia’s. Without a word, we bolted from the cabin.
Mom, Arden, Jason, and Greg were already on deck. They turned as we rushed up to them. Mom’s face was bright and happy. She pointed to the water.
There, in the ocean, black fins were rolling and diving. The water churned with white foam and spray. All around us I heard the squeaking and calling of a pod of orcas.
“They found him,” Arden said, her voice low. “They’ve been out there for two hours, calling to him. He’s calling back.”
She was right, I realized. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t heard it sooner. In the pen, August was swimming back and forth, whistling and chirping.
“Is it his pod?” I squeezed the railing to keep myself from shooting right up into the air with joy.
“Yes!” Jason said. A huge grin was pasted on his face. “It’s them.”
“Then, there’s only one thing left to do, right?” Olivia said.
“Let him out,” Cooper answered.
None of the adults contradicted us. Without another word, Greg leaned over the side of the catamaran. I held my breath as he jerked a cable. The temporary net collapsed, floating down into the water.
With one swift, beautiful movement, August swam over the top of the floating net. He was out. He was free.
“He’s out! He’s out!” Cooper yelled. In an instant, we were all cheering and clapping and hugging each other.
August swam quietly off to the side, several yards away from the churning pod.
“Why isn’t he going up to them?” I asked.
“He’s holding off. He’s keeping his distance until they signal he’s accepted. It’s like good manners,” Arden said. “He’s being a very smart boy. And look! There they go!”
Suddenly the black fins were moving away in smooth, up and down movements through the water. I kept my eyes glued to August’s little dorsal fin. He stayed in the same place. The pod was getting farther away.
Go! Go! I urged him in my head. Go with your family!
Then Olivia gasped. “He’s going!” she exclaimed.
And he was. The little orca swam after the rest of the pod, slowly at first, then faster, closing the distance between them. We watched and watched until the fins grew smaller and disappeared into the vast, gray ocean.
Epilogue
The San Juan Marine Mammal Sanctuary seemed so very far away once Olivia and Mom and I were back home at Seaside Sanctuary. Looking out at the flat, white South Carolina beaches, I could hardly believe we’d even been there.
That land of rocks and pine trees and cold water seemed like a different world from the thick heat and palmetto fronds we were used to in Charleston.
Our time with August felt like a dream. It was back to real life now.
In December, I got an email from Cooper and suddenly, SJS and August rushed back to me as if I’d never left:
Hi Elsa—
I hope you’re having fun back home. Mom and I want you and Olivia to come out here again next su
mmer. I hope you can.
I have some big news too. Mom went out on the boat yesterday and tracked August’s pod. They found them. And August is huge! You almost wouldn’t recognize him. He’s fat and healthy and the best part is, he was with his aunt. She’s his foster mother, just like we wanted. We were right, and Davis was wrong after all ;) We introduced the first orca back to the wild after human interaction.
We did it, Elsa—all of us. Just thought you might want to know.
Cooper
I closed my laptop slowly and sat for a long time on my bed, staring at the wall. But I wasn’t seeing the striped wallpaper in front of me. I was seeing August, swimming in the cold Pacific sea, next to his new mother—right where he belonged.
About the Author
Emma Carlson Berne is the author of many books for children and young adults. She loves writing about history, plants and animals, outdoor adventures, and sports. Emma lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, with her husband and three little boys. When she’s not writing, Emma likes to ride horses, hike, and read books to her sons.
About the Illustrator
Erwin Madrid grew up in San Jose, California, and earned his BFA in Illustration from the Academy of Art College in San Francisco. During his final semester, Erwin was hired by PDI/DreamWorks Animation, where he contributed production art for Shrek 2. He later became a visual development artist for the Shrek franchise, the Madagascar sequel, and Megamind. He has designed cover art for children’s books from Harper Collins, Random House, and Simon and Schuster. He currently lives in the Bay Area.
Glossary
condemned (kuhn-DEMD)—
declared unsafe
enthusiasm (en-THOO-zee-az-uhm)—
great excitement or interest
inhumane (IN-hyoo-mayn)—
actions that are cruel or unkind
naïve (nah-EEV)—
inexperienced and overly trusting
rehabilitate (ree-huh-bil-uh-TAYT)—
Orca in Open Water Page 4