Whaling and Conservation

The Old Whale Biologist

Years ago, I worked on a tuna boat as a scientific observer, studying dolphins that became entrapped in tuna nets and died. The tuna fishermen on board resented me because I was a “cop” on their ship, “spying” on the fishing operations. The fishermen were concerned about me reporting large numbers of dolphins being killed by their ship. As a result, I felt very alone and was threatened by some of the crew. I decided to work on the project in hopes of solving the dolphins’ problems. But after ten days at sea, I was just trying to do my job and not be thrown overboard by an angry tuna fisherman.

One time the net was set on (placed around) a large school of dolphins at sunset, killing more than 100 of them. One of my jobs was to dissect the dead dolphins. On this particular night, I worked until 2:00 a.m. with my hands full of blood. Several dissected dolphins contained fetuses (unborn calves). I cut the mammary glands of one dead female and the milk squirted me in the face. I thought about the young calf who would probably die because it could not nurse from its mother. I looked at my bloody hands and the dead dolphins surrounding me and felt sick. I was not a scientist, but a butcher, carving up murdered animals. I was a part of the slaughter.

After that “night of death,” I resolved to save as many dolphins as I could. I pulled dolphins out of the nets from a speedboat or dove into the nets that were packed with tuna. Many dolphins drown during this part of the operation. So I would climb into the net and pull dolphins out by their long snouts. They were so exhausted and close to death at this point that they willingly let me rescue them. Once, I pulled so many dolphins out of the net that my arms cramped up. I could barely climb out of the net myself and had to leave dying dolphins behind.

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