Tokitae’s Life now
Though a healthy adult, Lolita is one of the oldest orcas in captivity, kept in the oldest and smallest orca tank in the U.S. In 2000, the owner was quoted in a tourist trade magazine saying: "We recognize that some aspects of the facility are functionally obsolete." In January, 2002 the Seaquarium admitted they simply don't have the cash to build a new whale stadium in the foreseeable future.
Since 1970 Lolita has performed reliably, entertaining visitors to the Miami Seaquarium with her power and grace. She has no other choice but to perform her routines to avoid reprimands from her trainers. Trainers may deprive her of either food or attention and affection if she does not perform on cue. She understands what is asked of her, so very little coercion is required. On occasion she has refused to perform, but fortunately for her mental health those angry or depressed moods seem to be rare. This even temperament may be a clue to her astounding longevity in captivity.
She has proven to be exceptionally robust, outliving by over two decades all of the approximately 44 other Southern Resident orcas who survived capture operations and were delivered to parks within three years of her capture.
Lolita is believed to be about 22 feet in length, weighs about 8,000 pounds, and is in good physical and mental health in spite of the fact that she has been held without other orcas since her So. Resident tankmate Hugo died in 1980. She is maintained in natural seawater drawn from Biscayne Bay and chilled to about 65° F, which is optimum for her in the Florida environment.
The Federal Government has failed to enforce the Animal Welfare Act in regard to the small size of Lolita's tank. In short, the minimum horizontal dimension should, by law, be at least 48' wide in both directions. Orcas swim an average of 80-100 miles a day. From the front wall to the wall that forms the barrier the pool is only 35' wide. The USDA says the barrier "does not present a significant obstruction" for Lolita, as if she can simply swim through the wall, as described by an official at APHIS. Lolita's tank is not a reasonable habitat for a whale.
Serious infractions of the Animal Welfare Act at the Seaquarium whale tank have been documented in this scathing June, 2021 USDA/APHIS Inspection Report, prompted by the NOAA Permit Office after 5 dolphins died there recently. Magdalena Rodriguez, in-house veterinarian since 1997, listed some of the main concerns: Staff shortages left dolphins, manatees and even the park’s star attraction, Lolita the killer whale, with inadequate care. Broken pumps and malfunctioning filters choked water with so much algae it sometimes wasn’t possible to see the bottom of the whale tank. Records on water quality were inaccurate and managers didn’t keep track of where animals were placed in the park’s different pools.
The Palm Beach Post of October 21, 2021 describes new forces for Tokitae’s return to her home waters since the purchase of the park by The Dolphin Company, followed by the damning USDA Inspection Report, and the issues still blocking her return.
For over half a century her main problems result from her solitary confinement in a concrete tank, and separation from her family, compounded by a lack of normal physical activity and environmental stimulation. The oldest Southern Resident orca, Ocean Sun L25, estimated to be over 90 years old, is considered to be Lolita's possible mother based on analysis of the calls Lolita continues to make in her tank.
Like most, probably all, orcas, Lolita yearns to bond with another caring, sentient being. In the absence of any other whales, she looks toward her trainers for companionship. Marcia Henton, Lolita's trainer from 1988 until the fall of 1995, said "It was like having a best friend that you get to see every day. She likes a lot of close contact" she said. "It's a very unique experience. When she comes over to me, when we're interacting together, she looks right into my eyes. It almost feels like...my soul is open to her," said Henton.
Henton talks about finding an old hand signal book in a locker at the park that hasn't been used since she took over as her trainer. Just to see what would happen, she tried out some of the signals. The results surprised even her: "I can walk up and give her a signal she hasn't seen in at least eight years, and she remembers it." Her excellent memory of hand signals gives us an indication of the strength of her memories of her native habitat, her foraging skills, and her family members.
In 1996 Keith Henderson of Dateline-NBC played a tape of Lolita's family. The tape was recorded in July, 1995, during a reunion of the three pods that make up Lolita's extended family, the Southern Resident community. She leaned in to listen to her family who she hadn’t seen for 20 years at that time. Lolita still makes the calls of her pod.
Lolita, like Namu before her, always tries to create a bond of friendship with a trusted companion. This gives us an indication of her normal, natural relationships with family members. If she were allowed to be reunited with her family, even by an acoustic linkup, Lolita would remember how to communicate with them, and they would recognize the sounds she makes. Lolita still calls out in her family's calls.
Trainers at the Seaquarium usually seem to care for Lolita and try to give her companionship. She seems to enjoy their presence, but when compared to the 24-hour a day, lifetime company she could have with her real family, such playful moments are clearly not enough.
Biologically and logistically she is an excellent candidate for return to her home waters to be retired in a monitored seapen with the option of rejoining her family, but objections to her return by the park have so far prevented the move.
So courageous and yet so gentle, but how much longer can Lolita stay alive in a concrete bowl?
