Lolita the orca returns to home waters and an open ocean sanctuary

She is called the stolen daughter.

The Southern resident orca, a member of L pod — one of three families that spend summer and fall off the coast of B.C. and Washington State — was captured near Whidbey Island in August, 1970.

Video taken at the time shows men on boats prodding “killer whales” with long metal poles in an attempt to separate mothers from their calves. Witnesses recall how the whale pod remained in the cove for almost two weeks until the last of seven young whales were loaded into slings and taken away.

Plunged into a dazzling concrete world, the four-year-old orca was transported to Miami Seaquarium and given the name “Lolita”.

This week, at a news conference in Miami, an American billionaire shocked many by announcing plans to pay for Lolita, also known as Tokitae or Sk’aliCh’elh-tenau, to come home.

On the Pacific coast — in B.C. and Washington State — the news was greeted with hope, but also caution. We have wronged her so much, can we really make it right?

“These whales, KELȽOLEMEĆEN, are part of our family, part of the islands and part of the people who live there,” said Adam Olsen, B.C. Green party MLA for Saanich North and the Islands, and a member of the W̱SÁNEĆ Nation.

He called Lolita’s return welcome news.

“I think in 2023, we’re working to reconcile on a variety of fronts. It’s an act of reconciliation with some of our former perspectives. The idea that humans had the right to capture and monetize anything and everything they damn well wanted to.”

Critical to the efforts of conservationists to bring Lolita home was the Sacred Lands Conservancy, an Indigenous-led non-profit based in Washington State, and president Tah-Mahs Ellie Kinley, a Lummi tribal member.

Kinley was digging in her garden as she listened to the news conference in Miami.

“I sat down in the lawn and cried harder than I have in a long time,” she said. “It’s finally happening.”

The fight to return Lolita to the Salish Sea began more than two decades ago.

“It goes all the way back to watching the salmon runs decline over 20 years,” said Kinley, a fisher. “I was watching from my boat and I realized I had to step off the boat and do the work.”

She said that the Lummi call the Southern resident orcas “our family under the water.” Sk’aliCh’elh-tenau is a lost daughter.

Kinley said the conservancy has a comprehensive plan for Lolita’s transport and has conducted site searches to establish an ocean pen. Now, with a donor for a project expected to cost up to $20 million US, the group can start to apply for permits. Canadian scientists said that process may need to include the Canadian fisheries department if there is a chance Lolita will someday be able to leave her enclosure.

Asked what success looks like, Kinley said it’s simply, “getting her back into her home waters for however long she has left.”

She believes Lolita knew she would someday go home. Her companion for 10 years, another captive Southern resident orca named Hugo, died after repeatedly ramming his head into the side of their tank.

“She is so strong. She knew there was a way out, but she chose to wait. I have to believe that she knew she was going to go home.”

But Lolita’s homecoming has layers of meaning. She was captured at a time when the Pacific whaling industry was still active and whales were “vilified,” said University of Victoria environmental history professor Jason Colby.

During her capture, five L pod whales, including four babies, drowned after becoming tangled in underwater nets. The discovery of their bodies, bellies cut open and weighed down with rocks, would eventually contribute to the end of whale capture in the Salish Sea.

Aquariums gave the public access and understanding of whales, in some ways contributing to the movement to free them from captivity.

But decades after whale capture ended, the Southern resident orca population is in decline.

“It’s easier or more convenient for us to fixate on one celebrity animal than it is to address some of these big ecological issues,” said Colby, pointing to the environmental issues harming the Southern resident whale population, from dwindling salmon stocks to pollution and boat traffic. “People have displaced some of that guilt onto aquariums.”

Colby said we may have a moral obligation to Lolita, but that obligation should extend to her family and her home.

“I will never minimize the horrific experience she’s had, but returning her home is not the end of it. Us feeling better is not really as important as taking care of the Salish Sea,” he said.

“Seaquarium doesn’t pose a threat to the whales anymore. We do.”

Lolita, now 57, faces a journey that no other whale of her age has made, said Josh McInnes, a researcher at the University of B.C.’s marine mammal research unit.

“In many ways this is unprecedented,” he said.

Keiko, the orca of “Free Willy” fame, was both younger and had been in captivity for less time when he was returned to Iceland. While his homecoming was celebrated, he didn’t adapt to the wild and died of pneumonia five years later.

B.C. has had its own mixed experience with whales that have grown accustomed to people. Luna, a young orca who was separated from his mother and gained international attention, was killed by a tugboat propellor in 2006.

McInnes said the flight to the Pacific coast, which could happen within the next 18 to 24 months, is the first hurdle. But he said he thinks this journey “has to happen.”

“If she’s going to die, she’s better off dying in her natural habitat than in an aquarium tank,” he said.

But Andrew Trites, a UBC professor and whale expert, said Lolita could suffer during the flight, and her welfare, including her mental health, must be a factor in the decision to move her.

“A storybook ending might not be possible for her,” he said. “I think everyone is on the same page in wanting what’s best for her, but there are different opinions on what is humane.”

gluymes@postmedia.com