#tokitae

I am beyond words. I am absolutely fucking FLOORED by this quilt my amazing sister @a-myriad-of-stars made as a wedding gift for my wife and I. Look at those orcas! So distinctly Tilikum (left) and Tokitae (right)💜 Lime Kiln lighthouse and Kama Kulshan (Mt Baker) in the background, perfectly recognizable. Can you BELIEVE this was her first time making a quilt?!?!!

Of course, Anon 🫂 I’m so sorry for everything you’ve had to put up with, both from the outside and from your own management. You loved her, and unlike everyone else, you truly knew her. And you wanted what was best, even if it was unpopular. Thinking about you and your coworkers! 🐳

As for the angry folks showing up in my notes… why exactly do you think it’s okay to be so hateful toward the people who actually took care of Toki, who knew her in a way you and I never will? Why do you blame her care staff and vet team for something they had absolutely nothing to do with? Did you get a four-year degree in psychology or marine biology and complete multiple unpaid animal care internships, only to make minimum wage and get called an animal abuser online? Or did you go to school for eight years, not counting thousands of hours of additional education in exotic species you didn’t learn about during that schooling, just so you could make a quarter of what other doctors make and be told you’re in it for the money?

"I first met Tokitae (also known as Toki, Lolita and Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut), a female orca who had been captured off the coast of Washington, in 1987. I was a biology graduate student at my first professional conference, and the scientific society hosting this event held the opening reception at the Seaquarium.

Toki was 20 feet long and 7,000 pounds, and should have been in the Salish Sea traveling 40 miles a day and diving 500 feet deep with her mother and siblings. Yet there we were, a few hundred marine mammal scientists who mostly did field research, watching this magnificent being perform silly tricks in a bathtub.

That’s not really an exaggeration in Toki’s case. Toki’s tank was the smallest enclosure in the world for her species. It was only 35 feet at its widest point and 80 feet long. It was 20 feet at its deepest; if Toki hung vertically in the water, her tail flukes touched bottom. Captured in 1970 when she was 4 or 5 years old, she lived in this tiny space for 53 years.

The federal Animal Welfare Act (AWA), administered by the US Department of Agriculture, has a ludicrous requirement for tank width — only twice the length of an average adult orca (or 48 feet). But Toki’s tank didn’t even meet that weak standard. For years, the USDA offered various excuses for not taking steps to revoke the exhibitor’s license. None of them made sense, as the tank was plainly not to code. Activists repeatedly tried to sue the USDA for failing to enforce the law, without success.

Toki’s was a strange, lonely life. Despite many campaigns to repatriate her to her family (the L pod in Puget Sound), years passed. The stadium around her slowly and literally crumbled.

The ‘Blackfish’ Effect,” named after the 2013 documentary that eventually reached tens of millions of people globally, has shifted the captive cetacean paradigm in the past decade. Businesses have severed ties with marine theme parks, and policymakers have passed laws ending the commercial display of orcas and other cetacean species. SeaWorld, the company that built its brand on Shamu, is phasing out orca display — no longer capturing, breeding or trading them.

And still Toki languished in the South Florida heat. The Seaquarium’s two owners during Toki’s first 52 years there were adamant that she would never leave the park and disdainfully dismissed talk of returning her to her family.

In March 2022, however, Toki’s outlook finally seemed brighter. The Seaquarium was sold to a company whose business model relied primarily on swim-with-dolphin encounters. An orca didn’t fit that model, and these owners were willing to let her go. Efforts could finally begin in earnest to return her home. The Lummi Tribe, who gave her the name Sk’aliCh’elh-tenaut and considered her a relative, had prepared detailed plans for a seaside sanctuary in the Salish Sea.

Then, last month, Toki died. The hope felt by so many that she would finally go home disappeared in an instant.

Captivity robs orcas of a true life in the deep open sea. It robs them of family, of purpose, of change and challenge. Captivity is tremendous monotony for these socially complex, wide-ranging, intelligent animals. We should not perpetuate that.

Zoos and aquariums long ago relegated dancing bears and tricycle-riding chimps to circuses, but still claim that cetacean shows — loud extravaganzas featuring leaping orcas and cavorting dolphins — are educational (they are not). The industry could and should invest in seaside sanctuaries — it’s a win-win choice, as the industry would be heroes and the animals’ welfare would improve.

Let Toki’s miserable, isolated life and sad death mean something for her fellow captives. These amazing beings should not have to die to finally be free."

Tokitae , also known as Lolita, has passed away at the age of 57. Captured at the age of 4, she was the second eldest orca in captivity at Miami Seaquarium. 

In March 2023 it was announced that she was to be returned to the waters of her birth. She was to reside in a semi - wild sea pen in the Salish Sea for the rest of her life. 

Tragically it was announced on August 18 that Tokitae had passed away at the Seaquarium due to renal failure after exhibiting sights of distress for 2 days. 

Statistics:

Currently there are 54 orcas in captivity worldwide, 29 of whom were captive-born. There are 17 orcas in the SeaWorld parks.

At least 176 orcas have died in captivity across the world, and 30 orca calves have either been miscarried or stillborn.

In the wild, male orcas can live for 40 to 60 years and females 80 to 90. 

Sources: Wikipedia, The New York Times and NBC.

ADDENDUM

Another tradgedy 43 years earlier - Tokitae’s cellmate

In 1968 Hugo was the first orca at Miami Seaquarium.

When Tokitae arrived he had been in a tank on his own for 2 years.

They shared the tank for 10 years until Hugo died of a brain aneurysm in 1980. It was caused by repeatedly and violently ramming his head into the sides of his tank.

He was 15 years old.

Tokitae spent the rest of her life alone in the tank or with a few dolphins for company.