Editor's note: Keiko, the world's most famous orca, died on
Friday, December 12, in Taknes Bay, Norway, likely from acute
pneumonia.
By Naomi Rose
Keiko's journey ended on Friday, December 12. What a long,
strange trip it must have been for him.
Born in the North Atlantic off Iceland, torn from his
mother's side while still no more than an infant, sent first to
a nearby tank, then to one in Canada, then to yet another in
Mexico, all within a few years. He lived in an amusement park
for eight difficult years, in a tank too small and too warm,
with only the occasional dolphin companion. Then suddenly—movie
stardom! He starred in Free Willy, became famous. After
almost a decade of resignation to his fate in Mexico, he was
rescued and transported to unimagined luxury for him—a far
larger tank in Oregon, with natural, cold seawater from a local
bay.
Then, from the Pacific Northwest, Keiko returned full
circle: to a large bay in Vestmannaeyjar, Iceland, with puffins
and the occasional seal to visit, in the clean, cold waters
where he was born. Within two years, he was taking open-ocean
"walks" with his human caretakers, exploring the craggy
shorelines of the islands off Iceland's south coast. Each year
after that, he became more independent, at first hesitant to
make contact with the local wild orcas, but becoming more and
more curious and confident. From a lonely, broken whale in a
semi-tropical climate wholly foreign to him, he was once again
in the vast northern wild of his birth, robust, adventurous,
alive.
How adventurous? Last year, he spent more time than ever in
the company of his wild brethren, in many ways wild himself. On
his "walks" in Iceland, he was free to leave or stay. And leave
he did—taking off across the open waters separating Iceland
from the rest of Scandinavia, swimming steadily for at least
five weeks, almost certainly feeding himself, without human
contact.
What must he have thought, in those immensely wide spaces?
Following the mackerel, hearing the whistles of dolphins and
the booming of sperm whales for the first time in years? Was he
frightened? Perhaps a little, as one is when one first leaves
the comfort of the familiar for the unknown of "real life." But
he kept his head, and he steered true and came at last to
another shore, in Norway.
In his final months in Taknes, he was free to come and go as
he pleased. He explored his surroundings, interacted with his
human caretakers, mugged for the occasional camera, even chased
birds and fish. He breathed clean sub-arctic air, watched the
days grow shorter and then longer again, felt the fury of
storms and the joy of a boisterous breach, with no walls
confining him.
He lived longer than almost any other male orca ever has in
captivity. He lived at least as long as most male orcas do in
the wild. He died as many might wish to die—suddenly, with
little warning, happy and free and among friends.
What a long, strange, amazing trip Keiko took. We will miss
him.
Dr. Naomi Rose is the marine
mammal scientist for The HSUS.
