The Odyssey of KP2

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The Odyssey of KP2 Page 5

by Terrie M. Williams


  “All signs point towards KP2 successfully reintegrating into Hawaiian monk seal society,” David reported to the Hawaiian Monk Seal Recovery Team in December.

  Things changed rapidly after that. By January, KP2 had grown bolder and began cruising the rugged northern shoreline of Molokai, where the world’s largest sea cliffs rise dramatically from the water to the sky. Passing towering two-thousand-foot waterfalls, the seal crossed the Kaiwi Channel on a track back to Honolulu. Then he abruptly changed his course and returned to Kalaupapa Peninsula, completing a forty-mile trek that belied his young age.

  By February, KP2 was routinely circumnavigating Molokai and diving for fish in the Kaiwi Channel. On a landmark day that month, the adventurous seal swam south to the island of Lanai, where his natural curiosity drew him to the fishing activities of Kaumalapau Harbor. He stayed only briefly on Lanai, and was lured back to the “dolphin belly” of Molokai. The same curiosity and familiarity with humans brought the young seal to a small Hawaiian town with the tongue-twisting name of Kaunakakai.

  The 450-foot wharf of Kaunakakai was alive with paddlers, kayakers, and recreational and commercial boats. On the opposite side of the wharf the splashing of children caught KP2’s attention. Having never seen such young swimmers, he cruised over to the laughing youngsters with a mixture of suspicion and inquisitiveness. He circled and dove around them, popping his head up for an occasional breath that elicited squeals of delight. Before long, word about the “friendly seal down at the wharf” had brought others from town.

  What happened next began as a simple decision all too familiar to any swimmer in Hawaiian waters. Yet this one act triggered a life-altering event for KP2 that would eventually instigate an international chain reaction, from the islands to Washington, D.C., to Antarctica and back.

  Hearing about KP2’s antics, Alona Demmers had rushed down to Kaunakakai Wharf with her children. She eagerly jumped into the water, hoping to get a closer look at the cute monk seal. In her hands she held a float for her kids to rest on. Unknowingly, Alona had brought the one thing that KP2 would find irresistible: a pink boogie board.

  The seal immediately recognized his favorite toy from Kewalo Basin and knew exactly what to do. He hopped on top and began to paddle. From that moment on, it was all play for the seal and the children of Molokai.

  There was one child in particular KP2 actively sought out each day. “The dog that ran in rough waters,” as his Hawaiian name described him, appeared to bond in canine fashion with a young boy with large, dark eyes and an endless grin. Kalaekahi, nicknamed Kahi, was an energetic eleven-year-old Hawaiian who appealed to KP2’s love of roughhousing. With similar stocky builds, the two bear-hugged each other and rolled in the water like rowdy puppies. The boy became inseparable from the seal, and KP2 followed him with doglike zeal.

  • • •

  OFFICIALS FROM THE National Marine Fisheries Service in Hawaii, operating under NOAA, its parent organization in Washington, D.C., had specifically released KP2 at Kalaupapa Peninsula so he could learn how to be a seal. Instead, each day he was becoming more and more human as the friendly seal charmed the locals with his surfing and played water games with anyone willing to jump in the water with him. Neither state nor mainland officials were amused by KP2’s summertime antics.

  To stop these potentially dangerous interactions, NOAA sent representatives to the island to urge the locals to avoid playing with KP2. But ignoring the charismatic seal was impossible. For some, KP2 was a mascot, a creature from the sea who had chosen to live among the people of Molokai. KP2’s story, from his abandonment to his rehabilitation and release, appealed to them; there were so many parallels with the island’s history. Ignoring such a kindred spirit was particularly difficult now that the seal frequently snoozed on the wharf, the boat ramp, and even on the stern dive platforms of the boats tied up to the dock. People were literally tripping over the sleeping seal.

  However, one island group was in agreement with NOAA and equally upset by KP2’s presence in the harbor. To many local fishermen, KP2 represented a voracious predator that would eat up the island’s fish and get entangled in their gear. Where there was one hungry seal, there were surely more to follow. They demanded that NOAA remove the fish-stealing seal or they would take matters into their own hands.

  Hearing rumors around town, Alona Demmers became concerned for KP2’s safety. One day she watched in horror as a fisherman kicked the sleeping seal several times to move him out of the way. But KP2 did not react. The kick was just another human behavior. Humans had poked him with needles, put him in cages, and given him medicines. They had also fed him, played with him, and were a source of immense comfort. During his short life, KP2 had already learned that the nature of man was unpredictable. So he merely rolled over and continued to sleep.

  • • •

  IN MARCH AN NMFS TEAM dispatched from Oahu arrived on Molokai and herded the sleeping seal into a cage. He was weighed, cage and all, with the boat davit on Kaunakakai Wharf. Hanging beneath the scale like a prized marlin, KP2 weighed in at just 98.5 pounds. He had lost nearly 34 percent of his body weight since his release, causing some to question his dietary habits while playing around the wharf. After checking his overall health, the team transported the playful seal several miles up the coast to discourage his behavioral interactions with the children.

  With perfect navigation, KP2 defied the NMFS’s plan and immediately swam back to Kaunakakai and his waiting companions. NMFS volunteers tried shaking palm fronds to scare the seal away from the wharf. Although initially spooked, the persistent young seal returned again and again. Finally, his dedication won out. The palm frond shakers gave up and left KP2 to play with Kahi and the rest of the splashing, laughing swimmers for the rest of the summer.

  • • •

  FRICTION IN THE COMMUNITY GREW as the seal frolicked with his young friends. The children of Kaunakakai loved the one-year-old seal, while fishermen trying to scrape out a living from a once endless ocean bounty grew increasingly disgruntled. NOAA and NMFS officials found themselves stuck between a mascot and a nuisance of their creation.

  The breaking point came on June 10, when a resident of Molokai posted a 1:21 minute video entitled “Mac and KP2” on YouTube. In it KP2 chases a confused yellow Labrador retriever out of the water by the wharf. The streamlined seal has the obvious advantage as he flipper-slaps the water with a resounding splash right in front of Mac’s fuzzy muzzle. Peals of laughter can be heard from onlookers in the background as the dog hightails it for land. To the dismay of NOAA, the “friendly seal of Molokai” suddenly developed an Internet fan club.

  There was much more behind NOAA’s concern than just friendly people. Seeing the seal and dog interact raised a concern that went beyond the safety of KP2 and the children of Molokai. This time the entire fragile Hawaiian monk seal population was at risk. Dogs and wild seals were not supposed to mix; their genetics were so closely related that diseases could easily pass between them. With no natural immunity to diseases such as distemper or rabies and without the benefit of inoculations, wild monk seals, including KP2, were highly vulnerable to terrestrial-borne diseases. Even if KP2 did not get sick, he could carry the viruses to other immuno-naive monk seals, to the demise of his entire fragile species.

  Such a viral epidemic among seals had occurred in 1988 and again in 2002, when an outbreak of distemper resulted in catastrophic losses of European harbor seals. More than twenty-three thousand harbor seals died in the 1988 event; another thirty thousand succumbed to the disease in 2002. Thousands of seal bodies littered shorelines across Denmark, Sweden, Germany, and the Netherlands, and then in Britain and Ireland. The eleven hundred remaining Hawaiian monk seals would never survive such a devastating epidemic.

  With the YouTube images fresh on their minds, NOAA and NMFS officials once again corralled KP2 into his cage. This time KP2 was herded back to his original re
lease point on Kalaupapa Peninsula, more than forty miles away on the “dolphin dorsal fin” side of Molokai.

  But KP2 knew the game. It took him less than forty-eight hours to navigate around the island of Molokai and arrive back at Kaunakakai Wharf. In his previous travels he had mapped the currents and water channels of the island in his head. As a result, by sunset on the second day following his transfer, the seal was back playing with the swimming children, who waited in the glow of approaching dusk for his return.

  Thwarted by the persistence of KP2, government officials pleaded with the locals to leave the seal alone. Unfortunately, his celebrity spread nationally when Chris Herring wrote an article about KP2 for the Wall Street Journal. From New York City to Honolulu, KP2’s front-page story and pictures made people smile.

  The tale of the boisterous baby seal that loved people immediately fed into the national media. That evening CBS News carried a news report on the “friendly seal pup that acts like a puppy.” David Schofield from the NMFS Honolulu office tried an on-camera warning about swimming with KP2 for the broadcast. But the message was unheard in KP2’s wake. Even the journalists cracked a smile at KP2 as he enthusiastically sidled up to grinning swimmers, flopped on boogie boards, chummed it up with paddlers, and played with the children of Molokai. The message that the public heard was not one of danger, it was of fun.

  • • •

  WHILE BEAU AND I were shivering on the ice three thousand miles away, KP2 made an end-of-summer error that would change all of our lives. On a quiet September morning the seventeen-month-old seal swam up behind an unsuspecting swimmer near Kaunakakai Wharf and bear-hugged the person in his usual rambunctious greeting. This time, instead of a laughing child, the swimmer turned out to be Ingrid Toth, a thin, white-haired seventy-year-old woman. Despite his young age, the seal outweighed Ingrid and was able to hold her underwater for several seconds. The justifiably frightened woman suddenly had second thoughts about swimming near the wharf, and NOAA officials had finally heard enough.

  Plans were immediately made to permanently move KP2 away from Molokai. But where? He was neither wild nor tame. His months in rehabilitation with humans and subsequent release among seals had shaped him into a creature that had no home.

  Instead of fearing or attacking humans, KP2 had chosen to live among them. And that made KP2 both irresistible and dangerous, depending on whom one wanted to believe.

  Jennifer Skidmore of the Office of Protected Resources began exploring the options for KP2 from behind an NMFS desk in metro Washington, D.C. Two Hawaiian aquariums, Sea Life Park and the Waikiki Aquarium, declined to take the young monk seal, citing lack of space. No other facilities for holding monk seals existed in the state.

  Under pressure from an increasingly volatile community in Molokai, Jennifer broadened her search to the remote ends of the earth by sending an e-mail to my Antarctic camp on ice. “We have a situation with a Hawaiian monk seal pup . . .”

  • • •

  IN LESS TIME than it took for Jennifer’s e-mail to reach me near the South Pole, the people of Molokai heard about KP2’s pending removal by NOAA. The community exploded. The owner of a local restaurant, Darrin Abell, told the Wall Street Journal, “If they ship KP2 off the island, it might get ugly here. There’d be an uproar.” Similar sentiments were expressed by Walter Ritte, a longtime activist for Hawaiian culture who was especially vocal about the importance of KP2 to the people of Molokai. “If they take him away one more time and he comes back,” he told the reporter, “I don’t think this community will let NOAA take him again.” Even Ingrid Toth, the frightened swimmer, stood behind KP2’s choice of Kaunakakai Wharf as his native home.

  On the opposite side of a stuffy room where people discussed KP2’s fate during a town hall meeting, fishermen voiced the opposing opinion. They wanted KP2 gone. They knew of older fishermen who had shot monk seals to protect their livelihood. This seal, with or without a name, with or without a media following, would be treated no differently.

  • • •

  WHILE THE MAELSTROM brewed on Molokai, options for KP2 quickly evaporated.

  Resistance to the unprecedented move of the Hawaiian seal pup to my mainland lab was swift. Members of the Hawaiian Monk Seal Recovery Team immediately rejected the idea of moving a member of an endangered species. No one had ever transferred a young Hawaiian monk seal out of the islands. The Marine Mammal Commission, an independent U.S. agency that provides oversight of marine mammal conservation policies, also expressed reservations. Veterinarians, scientists, Washington administrators, personnel in the NMFS permit office, and marine mammal curators from Sea Life Park to SeaWorld debated. Most of them were part of the small community of marine mammal science and knew me personally. They knew the quality of my research. But once again the arguments had little to do with science; rather, KP2’s fate hinged on politics and precedent.

  After several weeks Amy Sloan, my permit officer from the same office at OPR as Jennifer Skidmore, finally informed me, “You’ve got enemies as well as supporters.” I trusted Amy. She was careful enough not to provide details, saying only that she and Jennifer were fighting an uphill battle back in Washington.

  Amy knew both sides of the battlefield when it came to marine mammal research. Before landing behind a desk in the OPR permit office, she had worked in Hawaii on the NMFS Hawaiian monk seal project. She was a self-proclaimed “pinnipedophile,” preferring to study the independent seals and sea lions rather than the charismatic dolphins and whales that the public seemed to dote on. “Too rubbery,” as Amy had once summarized her feelings about dolphins to me.

  Arguments crisscrossing the oceans continued until one communication stopped me cold.

  “There’s talk of euthanasia,” one of the veterinarians leaked to me one day. A rumor had spread from Washington.

  “You mean people back there are saying they would rather kill KP2 instead of allowing us to transfer an endangered animal to my lab for science?!” I was astonished and then furious. The rumor confirmed everything I believed about D.C. bureaucrats and the hopeless situation for wild animals.

  Amy tried to explain the logic. “KP2 is a male. He’s expendable.” But I knew that even she was not convinced by her own words.

  How differently we treated the sexes in human and animal worlds. In the world of animal preservation, each female contributed to future generations by creating and nurturing the young. Conversely, males were secondary. One male could impregnate many females, making individual male animals comparatively less important when it came to the reproductive viability of a population and species survival.

  For Hawaiian monk seals, males were relegated to an even lower status. With the continued decline in seal numbers during the past thirty years, the sex ratio of the population had become skewed in favor of males. In some areas males outnumbered females more than two to one. Since adult females give birth to only one pup each year, the population needed more healthy females if it was to grow. Thus, from the perspective of the Hawaiian monk seal population, KP2 was another expendable male.

  Combined with all the problems he had unwittingly created, from potential disease transmission to scaring swimmers to polarizing the Molokai community, there was little reason to save KP2. Everything could be solved easily with a needle full of Euthasol.

  “Don’t do or say anything,” Amy Sloan warned on a conference call to McMurdo. “We’ll deal with it from this end.”

  Jennifer quickly changed the subject. “How do you transfer your animals?”

  “FedEx,” I responded mechanically. “Ever since we flew sick sea otters during the Exxon Valdez oil spill we’ve used FedEx. They’ve always been game for any wet animal we had to transport.” I didn’t see the point of the discussion if KP2 was going to be killed.

  Within a few days Jennifer e-mailed back, “It’s going to cost $17,000 to FedEx KP2. Can you cover
that?”

  “Of course!” I replied without hesitation or thinking. It was the right thing to do.

  After my committing to the transport expenses, all communication from Washington suddenly fell silent, leaving me isolated on the Antarctic ice. Days passed and then weeks as one snowy day joined seamlessly with the next.

  Our winter research expedition with the Weddell seals ended with the permanent rising of the sun in mid-October. There would be no more sunsets, no more sunrises in Antarctica for the remainder of 2009. Instead the sun would circle monotonously around the horizon. It was time for my team to go home.

  • • •

  ON THE ICE with the cold trickling into the soles of my Bunny boots and the sun circling dizzily around my head, I had a sickening thought on the eve of heading back north.

  Where was I going to find $17,000 to save a homeless monk seal pup from Hawaii?

  6.

  Stolen Child

  Peering across the edge of the fiberglass pool at the Waikiki Aquarium, KP2 and I regarded each other with a sense of anticipation. I silently tried to weigh the pros and cons of helping this orphaned seal by reading his eyes; he used the same technique to determine whether I was going to hand him something to eat.

  “You’re not so big for someone who is causing so much trouble,” I murmured as I moved away.

  Suddenly, I heard a low thumping behind me and reflexively turned around to look out toward the street. The sound was almost inaudible, and then rapidly gained in intensity. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The rumbling grew steadily and ended in a burst out “brrawwrrrr!”

  I swung back around to the pool and discovered that KP2 was the source of the racket.

  “Rraaaughhrr.” The seal pup growled in a low, gravelly rumble that reminded me of Marlon Brando. He then splashed in circles around the shallow water of his pool.

 

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