Kiska: The Loneliest Whale in the World

This is the story of how Kiska, a whale who once lived happily with her family in the Icelandic Ocean, became the loneliest whale in the world:

In August 2011, a somewhat unseemly custody battle erupted between Busch Gardens (at that time the owner of SeaWorld) and Marineland Canada.

Ten years earlier, Marineland had approached Busch Gardens with a view to acquiring a male orca whom he could breed with the female orca Kiska. Busch Gardens had been looking for some beluga whales, and was willing to make a breeding loan agreement whereby one male orca one of its SeaWorld entertainment parks would be sent to Marineland in exchange for four belugas. Marineland said it wouldn’t go higher than three. Busch wouldn’t go lower than four but finally offered to toss in a couple of SeaWorld’s trained sea lions.

And so the deal was done. And shortly thereafter, Ikaika, a four-year-old orca at SeaWorld Orlando, was flown to Marineland in Niagara Falls.

“Ike”, as he was generally known, had been developing dental problems, most likely from chewing on the metal bars of his pool, and he needed daily treatment along with antibiotics and pain medication. The plan was that Marineland would keep up his treatments and although he was too young to breed, he could develop a relationship with Kiska and with Nootka, a younger female orca, and become a father in the coming years. The contract stipulated that the two companies would alternate ownership of baby whales, all of which promised to be lucrative for both sides.

Ikaika (“Ike”), left, with Kiska. Photo by Sloan

Nootka, however, died in 2008, and meanwhile Ike’s teeth were going from bad to worse. In 2009, SeaWorld decided they could give him better care and said they wanted him back. But Marineland didn’t want to give him up. SeaWorld pushed harder, including making some unusually candid statements about the dangers of keeping killer whales captive. As the Toronto Star described it:

[Ikaika] has had to be separated from his female companion, Kiska, 37, because he would bite her. [He] has a history of aggression, often of a sexual nature, which began with an attempt to breed a young calf at SeaWorld shortly before his transfer to Canada. SeaWorld’s veterinarians then sedated Ikaika twice daily with Valium to “try to mellow him out.”

“I’ve got grave concerns on the safety of the staff and inevitably the safety of the animal.”

“We’ve already seen some of the precursors (of a human attack) up there, meaning he’s grabbed boots, he’s grabbed targets, he’s grabbed an arm before,” Chuck Tompkins, a senior executive at SeaWorld and head animal trainer, said in an affidavit.

Those are signs Ikaika is testing his environment and seeing what he can do, Tompkins told the court.

“And if you’re not aware of all the little things that killer whales do, you can get somebody really, really hurt,” Tompkins said in his affidavit. “I’ve got grave concerns on the safety of the staff and inevitably the safety of the animal because of the lack of change.”

The dispute, which focused on the terms of the contract, ended up in court. SeaWorld won, Marineland appealed and lost again, and Ike was shipped back to the United States – this time to SeaWorld San Diego, where a 12-year-old orca named Sumar had recently died of a twisted intestinal tract.

Alone again

Kiska alone. Photo source unknown.

For Kiska, Ike’s return to SeaWorld meant that she was now alone. Two years earlier, she had witnessed the death of her fifth child, Athena, at age four. The bond between orca mother and calf is lifelong, and a growing number of studies suggest that orcas’ capacity to feel deep, complex emotions rivals or even exceeds the emotional capacity possessed by humans.

Since 2011, Kiska has lived alone in her concrete tank. No family members swim by her side. No friends invite her to play. She holds the cruel distinction of being the only captive orca in North America held in social isolation from any other marine mammal. Video footage and eyewitness accounts depict her behavior as repetitive, unmotivated and lethargic. When not swimming in slow circles, she often floats in place, staring at the emptiness that is the inside of her tank.

Although still on display, Kiska no longer performs for the public. According to Marineland officials, she “spends her golden years doing what she wants.”

What would it mean for her to see and interact with other whales again? To have a chance to make new friends, to hear another orca answer her when she calls?

Or simply to feel the ocean again at a seaside sanctuary so that she could explore the kind of rich environment she knew before she was captured in the Icelandic Ocean more than 40 years ago?

Perhaps, one day soon, she may have the chance to discover the answers to those questions.