Killing Keiko

by Mark A. Simmons

  Once again, it was time for my return stateside for a short spell. In departing, I left explicit instructions for Keiko’s conditioning work: It was time to get Keiko through the gate and into the medical pool. It would not be long before we were faced with access to the bay and at present, Keiko was not ready. For starters, he wouldn’t go anywhere near the new gateway in his bay pen enclosure. His history with gates was not ideal, and reshaping this behavior was going to require exacting focus. The task fell first to Kelly, Brian and Steve.

  Tom

  Even when on a home rotation, we were never truly “off.” Charles had approved a request to bring aboard one more new staff member. Robin and I both knew exactly whom we wanted. I spent most of my rotation home preparing for the arrival of Tom Sanders. Tom and I had worked together a few years in the SeaWorld of Florida park, which is all it took for us to become close friends. Tom had more aptitude in one finger than most people possessed in their entire being. He was mechanically inclined, adaptive to almost any environment, athletic, and he understood how to shape behavior. He was in many ways a Poet-Philosopher type when it came to the application of behavioral conditioning. These traits along with Tom’s affable personality, made him the perfect fit for the project. Where Kelly provided additional behavioral input and expertise, she also contrasted sharply with the rugged conditions. Everyday had to be reinvented, every advancing step a deliberate effort; nothing was handed to you with ease. We needed a pacesetter, someone who created energy where little existed; someone who could lend steadfastness to the otherwise illusory plan of release. Perhaps as important, we wanted someone the existing staff would accept. Tom was our guy. I had great expectations and hopes for his introduction in Iceland. As chance would have it, he would meet me on my return rotation for his indoctrination, and we would spend the first few weeks together with Keiko.

  As was often the case in my absence, Robin was consumed with advancing the installation of the barrier net. A critical path to be sure, but it always meant setbacks for Keiko. These setbacks were seldom obvious.

  In Keiko’s case, we were steadily and carefully introducing immense changes in his life. Some of these changes were an investment in a future phase of the program. The complexity of Keiko’s rehabilitation, much like chess, required awareness of steps many “moves” in advance. If this steady progress was disrupted or paused, the eventual effects were akin to taking a cake out of the oven before it has risen completely. The cake will fall before the icing can be spread.

  More than a few on the project feigned interest in following protocol and doubted nearly every step absent tangible proof that the tedious demands were yielding results. It is for this reason that behavior is often viewed like religion. This human haste for material and measurable evidence has haunted the beginnings of almost every program in which I have been involved. People are tragically impatient, I among them. But if one persists long enough, ever faithful and steadfast in implementing the principles of learning as we were with Keiko, inevitably something will happen that provides the all-too-necessary testament. It was Tom’s initial days on the bay pen with Keiko when this affirmation presented itself.

  Returning to Iceland, my route converged with Tom’s in the Keflavik airport. Although we had talked abundantly in the past few weeks, we had not seen each other in three years. Without fail, Tom’s stubborn resistance to aging did not disappoint. He looked as if it was only yesterday that we had worked together at SeaWorld. Our friendship has always been as comfortable as a trusted pair of work gloves. We fell effortlessly into our usual well-worn jibes and trouble-making rhythms. Throughout the ride from Keflavik to Reykjavik and the short plane hop over to Vestmannaeyjar, we discussed the project, touching on everything from staff to amenities to weather, local customs (the beautiful women of Iceland) and of course Keiko. Tom also knew Kelly well as they had worked together at SeaWorld of Ohio. We shared no small amount of laughs at her expense and favor.

  Through e-mails, session records and my daily conversations with Robin, I was already aware of Keiko’s failure to go through the new guillotine gate to the medical pool. This despite the singular focus and top priority assigned to the task when I last departed the island weeks earlier. There were many reasons for the lack of progress, not the least of which was the lack of faith in the principles of behavioral modification which in turn placed a deadweight on getting anything done. Kelly was officially in charge of Keiko’s daily progress during my rotation home; however, she was often railroaded by the informal chain of command occupying the project at the time. Although she tried valiantly to hold her ground she could not single-handedly be with Keiko 24/7. In her absences from the bay pen, laziness and bold defiance of the conditioning protocols ruled the day. Sometimes conflicting agendas were even carried out in her presence.

  Forty-Eight Hours

  Klettsvik welcomed Tom with overcast, but mild, weather for his first foray onto the bay pen. For my part, I was as a child filled with Christmas Eve anticipation. Tom’s presence was exciting for me, yes, but my excitement was equally enhanced by the fortuitous absence of anyone else on the pen that day. It was no secret that I was disappointed at Keiko’s failure to go through the gate. It was the first question I asked each time Kelly and I communicated during my rotation home. Whether the staff was avoiding me or just fatigued from wearisome efforts didn’t matter to me, I was happy to have the one-on-one time with Tom just the same.

  After a whirlwind tour of the floating facility, Tom and I wasted no time getting to the task. It was our turn “at bat” on the gate training, and both of us were itching for the challenge. That we had just walked into the spotlight with the more resistant members of the staff was not lost on me. Advantage gained by our history of working together, we required little discussion on the planned approach. He and I had been here before. As sudden as if throwing a light switch, we turned off every form of stimulation in the north pool that we had any influence over. We avoided the north pool like the plague, making sure that buckets, tools and equipment of any sort were stationed where we could get to it without being seen by our pupil. We demanded that no boats come anywhere near the bay or bay pen without our express consent. Keiko’s only access to us and any form of change in the environment would come from the medical pool via the gateway.

  While this approach may seem hard-line—and it was—Keiko’s repeated history of failure in gate conditioning produced in him a hardened resolve at avoidance. He had been taught, albeit nonintentionally, to withhold longer and longer in avoidance of the separation. The very act of avoiding something Keiko considered aversive was reinforcing in and of itself. In each past attempt, an eventual return to normal daily interactions in his preferred pool only lent further trophy to his victory. Not this time.

  In Keiko’s case, we had little choice, and second guessing was not an option. Overcoming his fixation with avoiding gates was paramount for the release process to move forward. Seamless proficiency at gating was required. Time was not on our side. If they were even an option—which they were not—no amount of blue Boomer Balls, toys or antics motivated Keiko to face his nemesis. Likewise, we could not provide his food in the north pool, where he wasn’t supposed to be, without also compounding the problem. Tom and I set the stage for ample opportunity, but only when Keiko showed us progress would he also receive the world in all its glorious variety. Starting then, his “world” emanated from within the medical pool itself.

  By noon of the first day, we had knocked down nearly twenty individual micro-training sessions. Each and every one of them the same: we stepped up to the medical pool side of the open gateway and tapped the water calling Keiko to position inside the medical pool. As with all conditioning sessions, we waited patiently, first observing Keiko and looking for the ideal time to call his attention. It goes without saying; presenting the signal (stimulus) calling him to position in the medical pool while he was stationary and facing away from the gate would not produce the desired result. Bu
t, we didn’t just sit around waiting for the ideal happenstance opening, we also created “setting conditions” to encourage him.

  Setting conditions are exactly what they sound like. They are conditions that create the likelihood for certain behaviors to occur, such as Keiko moving toward the gate or showing interest in the med pool. It was still early in Keiko’s release conditioning. At this stage, his human counterparts remained a bright star in his night sky. The magnetism of his relationship with humans meant Keiko wanted to be near us. Therefore, we moved ourselves and every form of activity to the opposite side of the medical pool.

  Another “lever” that required some pulling was the use of differential reinforcement techniques (Differential Reinforcement of Alternative behavior or DRA). A mouthful to be sure, but also an aspect of Keiko’s conditioning that would soon become a primary tool in his preparation for the North Atlantic.

  DRA is a simple concept not so simply applied, both timing and frequency determining success or failure. It is a method commonly used to reduce or eliminate unwanted behavior. In this case, we wanted to reduce any activity that resembled gate avoidance, such as hiding on the opposite side of the north pool. In contrast to avoidance, we could reward Keiko for being near the gate, looking above the surface at our position inside the medical pool or a host of other behaviors. Simply put, anything where Keiko faced his fears.

  Applying DRA in the narrow context of gate training, we sought also to avoid creating frustration and forestall any potential that Keiko might completely shut down. It was only noon, and we had already changed nearly every rule he was hopelessly accustomed to when it came to gates. Too much too fast and even the most zealous pupils experience a loss of will.

  Keiko was not new at this pretend gating exercise. It didn’t take long before he was reluctantly poking his giant head two and three feet through the gate in return for the old familiar sound of the whistle bridge, only to then paddle his disproportionate pectoral flippers backing himself out of the gateway. We couldn’t get him to come any farther than this bogus three-foot fake without giving him a clear goal that forced him to come farther through the gate each time. Usually that goal was a hand target. However, neither Tom nor I were able to reach the exact spot we wanted. There are limitations to applied conditioning, and they are usually related to logistics.

  Initially, we employed the use of the target pole presenting a clear prompt for Keiko to touch with his nose, making inch-by-inch progress through the gate. But when we used the target pole and followed each success by tossing Keiko a few herring, the current swiftly took the fish back to the north pool. Keiko effectively received his reward in exactly the wrong place and for exactly the wrong behavior: for moving backwards. The solution was both fun and frustrating.

  Tom donned his splash suit borrowed from Stephen Claussen and stood at the ready, almost too eager to be back in the water with a killer whale after three dry years. “Do you want me in before you call him?” he asked, target pole in one hand and a bucket of fish in the other.

  “Let’s see how it goes. I think this first time you should just be at the poolside and ready to get into position. I’d rather get a response from him first before we make a change in the environment.”

  Interested in what we had in store next, Keiko circled the north pool passing by the gate with one eye raised above the surface, peering in our direction. It was a casual glance, one that says, “I see you, but I’m busy at the moment.” I waited until he passed. On his next turn toward the gate, I slapped the surface of the water just inside the med pool. Keiko turned in a beeline toward the gate, never altering his pace. Tom slipped in the water and moved to position at the gate about four feet inside the med pool. He placed his hand out about a foot or so below the water’s surface, palm outward toward Keiko. Tom kicked his feet fighting to remain upright, his whistle bridge gripped between his teeth. Keiko came straight away and touched Tom’s hand without breaking stride. Tom bridged but simultaneously prompted Keiko to remain touching his hand, so he could offer a couple herring before the backpedaling that Tom knew was coming next.

  “Tom, here …,” I said with some urgency as I tossed a herring. As athletic as Tom was, even he couldn’t catch the sorry excuse for a toss I had let fly. The herring overshot Tom, passing overhead and beyond his reach. The current quickly took the fish right into the north pool. Keiko swiftly backed out of the gate in pursuit.

  “Damn it, damn it, damn it. That was entirely my fault,” I said, completely frustrated. I knew I had gotten ahead of myself and thrown the fish, not paying attention to accuracy, and when Tom wasn’t ready. “Okay, stay there and call him over yourself. I’ll get it right this time. Sorry.”

  Tom thought better. “Just toss me one now,” he said as he slapped the water, holding his other hand expectantly above the surface toward me. “This is an easy one. He’ll do it.”

  Without saying as much, Tom was referring to the very bad idea of having food in your hand while in the water with a killer whale. Had it been any other killer whale in the world, we would have never gone out on that limb. I tossed him the herring, this time without incident.

  The bridge came, and Tom handed Keiko the herring in one swift move. But Keiko didn’t back out. Instead he sat motionless with his head well inside the gate.

  Tom reacted, “Toss me another.” It came out muffled through teeth gripping his whistle bridge with no small amount of lisping. I started laughing, both from the success of it and how stupid Tom sounded and looked, jamming his face into the water to see Keiko just beneath him. In the midst of it, he chalked up one more win for the med gate as he gave the herring to Keiko. This time Tom took a couple dog paddles and got out at the side of the med pool.

  “Crap, that’s cold,” he said, briskly sweeping the water from his military-style buzz cut. The water temp was hovering around forty degrees that day, warm for winter.

  “Yeah, lot colder than Shamu Stadium. Wanna leave it for a while, let that marinate?” I asked.

  “I kinda wanna go back right away. I think he’ll come in further this time.”

  Not one to stand in the way of confidence or overreaching trainers, I agreed. Tom slapped the water. At Keiko’s reaction, he immediately got back in. This time he had two herring in his left hand to start.

  “Right here? I can’t tell where from down here.” Tom asked, trying to adjust his position further into the medical pool.

  “Back a little, that’s still pretty close to the last. I’d ask for at least a foot more and see what he does. But if he gets pissed and comes into the med pool to chew your ass, I’m bridging it … just so you know.”

  Tom ignored my jest or at least couldn’t respond right away. He was too busy fighting the northbound current that had recently picked up. The current wanted to sweep him out of the med pool and into the north pool. He looked absurd. Every time he put a hand forward as a target for Keiko, he lacked the ability to hold his position, drifting into the whale. A one-armed man sculling this way and that. Together we must have looked like two of the Three Stooges—the third a few feet away in the gateway.

  After a few more attempts, we called a time-out and regrouped to find a better approach. The conditioning was going well. Keiko was advancing quickly, although we were completely vexed by the elements and the simple task of staying in one place in the water. Not to be undone, Tom and I decided that scuba would be the solution. First, the current was being driven mostly by the wind and therefore should be much easier to deal with a few feet below the surface. Second, placing ourselves even with Keiko in the water column offered him a much more natural entry position (recall that the gate opening was a couple feet below the water). It was worth a try.

  This time I would be the target in the water. After gearing up, we waited for telltale interest from Keiko. My first attempt proved out our theory, as it was much easier to be precise in where we wanted Keiko to come. It was also easier to provide immediate reinforcement. The remainder of the a
fternoon each successive attempt went on the same way. Inch-by-inch we slowly-but-surely gained ground on each “ask.” Often in these situations, whether it’s the first time an animal has gone through a small opening or like Keiko with a bad history of gating, there comes a time in the approximations when you’re in their way. I thought we were there.

  “He’s past his dorsal fin through the gate, kinda at that breaking point where it’s easier for him to come all the way in and turn around rather than backpedal out.” We were standing on the lee of the research shack in the sliver of sun left, attempting to warm our bodies. Through chattering teeth I said to Tom, “You need to be close to the poolside. If he comes right to me this time I’ll bridge and move aside. Then you slap. I think we’re holding him back. At this point he can just as easily reach you as come to me. I think he’s almost there.”

  As proposed, we set up the scenario. Keiko came directly to my underwater hand-target with little hesitation. I bridged, clumsily taking my regulator out and blowing the whistle underwater, then sculling to the right and out of Keiko’s path to Tom. On the surface, Tom slapped, keeping his hand extended below the surface to meet Keiko halfway. Keiko turned his enormous head and torso in Tom’s direction, but didn’t move any farther. Then, after some hesitation, he committed to Tom, touching his outstretched hand slowly and delicately with his nose. By then I was at the surface carefully backing away. I didn’t want to crowd Keiko’s entry path or cause uneasiness. Tom bridged. Then Keiko surprised us, he sat up with his head above the surface and mouth open, ready to receive herring, but his body was still in the gate. His entire nether regions and flukes still hung onto the north pool, while the rest of him was in the med pool contorting in order to reach Tom’s hand. Keiko was fanning his huge pecs beneath the surface to hold this oddball position. As Tom broke away from the session, Keiko once again backpedaled out of the gate.