Three years ago I saw a beluga whale in person for the first time. I had seen these animals on countless shows on Animal Planet, and appreciated their beauty and ability to survive in an inhospitable environment. But standing in the dark exhibit room with the blue glow through the enclosure glass, I was hypnotized by these white ghosts alternately swirling and pausing in the water with the cadence of billowing smoke. Of all the displays at Sea World, this was the one I spent the most time at. It was cold in the exhibit room, easily 60 degrees Fahrenheit, and though enough people walked through there, few chose to stay. The cold was worse if you stood still. But despite wearing only a sleeveless shirt, shorts and sandals, I sat on the bench, in lotus pose, and just watched. The moments when there was no one there, when there were no sounds, were the best. When the cold finally got to me, I left, but did so looking back at them and with the feeling that this was easily one of my favorite places in San Diego. I would return many times.
I have a great respect for animals and do my best not to romanticize or anthropomorphize their attributes, behaviors and expressions. This can be difficult. Among the earliest toys most kids in the Western world have is a plush toy that they come to associate with protection, love and friendship. It's ironic that these plush toys often depict animals that in reality would eat those kids given the opportunity: bears, tigers, pandas, etc. This isn't to say that protectiveness, love and friendship are alien concepts in the animal world, or lacking among predators like the ones I named. They are not. But animals, even the ones we come to see as pets, aren't prone to offer protection, love and friendship to complete strangers, animal or human. They are individuals looking to survive on this planet where they must adjust to their environment and avoid danger as much as possible. And strangers are dangerous... or at least risky.
We share many things with animals and if I suggest that I don't anthropomorphize, it's only to mean that I don't so much see human characteristics in animals as I see similarities between us. Humans are animals, too. We all adapt to our surroundings, we have internal clocks, we fear death, we experience attraction, we solve problems, we respond to emotions and we manipulate.
Mammals, especially mammals with very big brains, are particularly good at the latter two, which is what made my first project a little harrowing. I wanted to be in the water with a beluga whale.
When I tell people this I'm always asked "Why not dolphins?" People expect dolphins. Always dolphins. With good reason, I suppose: dolphins are found all over the world and so are very familiar, they are social animals, they are curious and will approach people, and they have been known to protect divers from sharks. Lovely. Here's the thing, though, dolphins can also be mean, vindictive and aggressive. They are predators, afterall. And as large and powerful as they are, they can do serious damage. There is only one verified incident of a dolphin actually killing a person (1994 in Brazil) but there are many incidents of people getting hurt by dolphins biting and pulling them underwater. Belugas, on the other hand, have a much milder disposition. Though belugas and dolphins have similar diets, belugas are opportunistic feeders, often foraging on the sea floor for their food. They don't seem to exhibit the same aggressive hunting behavior as dolphins. And they are very skittish. If you are in the presence of a beluga and make a sudden movement, they are very likely to swiftly get the hell out of there. They're big... bigger than dolphins. But they don't have the same track record of hurting people.
All that reasoning, and the repeated experience of watching these whales at Sea World, made me much more comfortable with the idea, at least safety wise.
My partner, Kevin, surprised me with reservations at Sea World San Diego to do the Beluga Interaction Program (http://seaworldparks.com/en/seaworld-sandiego/Attractions/Exclusive-Park-Experiences/Beluga-Interaction-Program). We'd talked about doing this a few times and had a couple of opportunities that we'd passed up, which I regretted when the program was temporarily shut down for renovations for a year. Just because it was safe didn't mean it was free of conflict, however, as SeaWorld, along with many aquariums and zoos have been guilty of suspicious practices, the most disgusting being the indiscriminate capture of wild animals for their exhibits. Over the last decade, much attention has been brought to the likes of Sea World for purchasing their more profitable animals (dolphins, orcas and some sharks) from groups that use inhumane practices to capture animals and which provide them just as easily to animal parks as they do to the meat industry. For an honest and disturbing look into this world, I recommend two documentaries: "The Cove" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1313104/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1) and "Blackfish" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2545118/?ref_=sr_1). I don't mean to suggest that all of the work that zoos and aquariums do is suspect. There are many critical breeding programs that have advanced only because of these places. That the sideshows which attract crowds and money are what pays for these programs is unfortunate and opens up an important area for discourse on how to provide much needed education and research without betraying the same respect and humane treatment of wildlife many of these organizations are trying to promote.
I learned that, though the dolphins and orcas at San Diego SeaWorld have been the subject of controversy, the belugas have been mostly bred in the park, making San Diego SeaWorld one of only two successful breeding programs for belugas in the world. Belugas are notoriously difficult to breed in captivity and the belugas found in most aquariums are wild caught. Nanuq, a beluga in San Diego SeaWorld, has fathered 5 of the 7 belugas at the park.
According to the website, the Interaction Program was not available yet but Kevin had called Sea World to check when it might restart and received the happy news that he could book us for the encounter that weekend.
The day of I was nervous. Nervous because it's scary to come face to face with a whale and also because I had so much expectation built up and was concerned I'd be let down. The Beluga Interaction Program starts infront of the arctic exhibit, which you'd think would've tipped me off to just how cold that water would be. But I was so excited and nervous about being in the water with the whales that I didn't even think about it.
The program begins with a behind-the-scenes tour of the walrus and polar bear exhibits. Both interesting in their own ways. The male walrus was a rescue and I forgot his name. But he was very fond of fish and was perfectly comfortable with people feeding him. All you had to do was get the fish close to his mouth and, like a vacuum, he'd suck the fish in. I am not good about these things. Whenever animals are made to perform I feel like, just as anybody would, they will likely tire of the same old shit, and I'll be the unlucky fool who gets his whole hand sucked into a walrus because he's done with fish and, well, maybe human flesh tastes better. I imagined myself getting caught and the giant thing trying to pull me into his enclosure amidst my screams and the screams of the horrified trainers. But seeing as it was highly unlikely I would ever again have the chance to feed a walrus by hand, I built up my courage and gave him a couple of fish, getting close enough to let his whiskers graze my hand. No tragedy.
There was a female walrus but she was having none of it. Stayed away from the crowd and instead made all kinds of noise to get attention even as she insisted on not participating. The trainer simply said she was "being a diva." See, sometimes they do get tired of the show.
The polar bear experience was not nearly as intimate, but I think that was the point. At any moment there were at least two heavy duty security doors between us and the bear. And from that vantage point it was easy to see how polar bears could turn into plush toys. They look so calm and playful. It's easy to forget that the moment there aren't two heavy duty security doors between you, the thing would be trying to devour you.
This is what we could see of the bear:
And this is inevitably what the bear must've seen looking back at us:
Then it was time for the belugas and I could hardly contain myself. But the suspense was still being built up. We were taken to changing rooms where we were to put on wet suits provided by SeaWolrd. This was my first time putting one of these things on and I felt surprisingly sexy in it. For those who have never been in a wet suit: it's kind of a mix of superhero tights and leather chaps. For those who have been in a wet suit: stop rolling your eyes.
Once in the wet suit, we were walked through the display area that I'd become so familiar with and through a locked door into the exhibit. I think I started to do a little dance at this point because not only was I going to be in the water with a beluga, but it was in the same exhibit I'd come to know and love the last three years.
And then I was given the big fat caveat about wet suits: the term "wet suit" is actually a very accurate name because you do infact get wet. Very wet. Water soaks through the suit and a thin layer of this water remains in contact with your skin. Your body heat warms up this water and the suit then keeps that layer from moving, which means you have a layer of warm water surrounding you. Ultimately you will feel warmer than the surrounding water. But initially you will get hit with the full force of the temperature of the water you are stepping into. And the water, in this case, is 55 degrees Fahrenheit. Doesn't sound bad, right? It doesn't because when we think of 55 degrees Fahrenheit, we are thinking of how it feels on a chilly morning in San Diego or a crisp afternoon during the Fall in Michigan. But 55 degrees in air is NOT 55 degrees in water. In water, 55 degrees feels like something's trying to remove the warmth from your very soul.
We were reassured that we would "warm up in no time." This was, in a word, bullshit. When I stepped into that cold ass pool, the water rushed in through the suit so I felt like I was not wearing anything at all. I had to fight the instinct to jump back out. Only thing that kept me going was seeing two belugas in the distance coming close to the surface and then disappearing into the indigo darkness of the pool.
As we continued to walk in the cold kept getting worse, my limbs would not stop shaking and I could hardly speak from the shivering. I actually felt like I was fighting passing out. I'm a Caribbean boy, people, and we are not used to this temperature. The only thing that took my mind from that was the warning the trainer gave us about where we were standing. It was a grated platform that only extended 20 feet out. Beyond that the pool descended another 18-20 feet.
"You can get really excited being with these guys but if you forget and step off the flatform, that's what's waiting for you."
I felt my own mortality at that moment. Could not get my mind to focus on anything else but being too close to that edge and reaching over too far, or the beluga making a quick move, and plunging me into frozen ass water in which it would be impossible to swim because my limbs would not respond to my brain. With that wet suit saturated with water I would sink (just like you sink when you try to swim in jeans... alot of people drown that way), my arms and legs shaking like I'm having an epileptic seizure, all the while looking up to the fading faces of the trainer, Kevin and the other folks who were participating.
Then the trainer interrupted my semi-romantic death-scene with "But don't worry, you won't sink. The wet suit will make you float and we'll all point and laugh along with the spectators as you bob around the pool"
Float? Now I imagined myself circulating the entire enclosure instead, bouncing off the glass walls where children and parents are watching amused by the idiot who didn't heed warnings about the platform. My limbs would be quivering from the cold so I'd look like an insect writhing helplessly on the water surface. I was still not getting anywhere near that edge. Ridicule is not a great option either.
The trainer called over one of the belugas, Nanuq, the stud that had fathered most of the beluga whales at the park, and this first close look at one of these creatures was as mesmerizing as those moments in the viewing room. They're perfectly white. As white as fresh snow. Dolphins and other whales all have markings. Their bodies show at least slight variations in tone and hue, especially between the underbelly and the dorsal fin side. But belugas are the same color regardless of what angle you look from. This radiant, perfect white that makes them look like a canvas God forgot to paint.
They have a curious way of hovering in the water, much like humming birds do in mid-air, and can swim backwards (the only whales that can do so), which the two that we met had no problem doing if anyone moved too quickly. For the most part, though, they seemed perfectly at ease with us, and we were able to be in close contact with them.
There were the necessary (though frankly incredibly cute) poses with the belugas kissing each of us or rising out of the water while we held onto their fins, as if the were sharing a dance, as well as a surprise soaking, which strangely enough made the 55 degrees feel better. All of these were met with fish from the trainer or the participants to give positive reinforcement of the behavior. But I just enjoyed touching them, being in such close proximity. Their bodies feel strange. The blubber that covers them (which gives them buoyancy, allows them to store energy, and protects them from near freezing temperatures) is not like the fat we're used to. It's tougher, firmer, but has give and sways when you put pressure on it, making it feel like you're laying your hand on raw steak.
We met a second beluga, whose disposition was a bit different than the first. It's interesting to see how personality comes through even when the whale is almost fully submerged. We typically use faces, posture, and gait to assess someone's mood, and though belugas are one of the few cetaceans that do not have a fixed expression, they are mostly submerged, and you'd think mood would be impossible to discern. But the whales have their own gestures, they move in slightly different ways, and seem to react to commands with a different attitude, some quickly and some lazily. The female beluga we met had a bit of attitude about performing and so her behavior was a little more unpredictable. Sometimes she'd execute the command immediately, sometimes she's lag, sometimes the trainer had to give the command a couple of times, and sometimes she'd add a little something extra. When the trainer was teaching us a command to get the beluga to stand perfectly vertical with half her body sticking out of the water, the female was a bit lazy about complying. And on the third command to do so she came out of the water but spat out a stream that landed right on one of the participants. She didn't get fish for that one, though I personally thought she should've gotten two fish.
"She knows she's not supposed to do that," the trainer said.
That's precisely why she deserved two fish, in my opinion. Obedience, abidance to expected behavior are overrated. It's nice to see that this playful mischief is not unique to humans... that we have inherited it along with many other animals and that in being something we have in common, it's a way for us to communicate.
We left the water and before getting out of our wetsuits the trainer said she had one final surprise for us. We were walked into a beluga enclosure that was not open to viewing. In it there were four belugas swimming around, among them a baby.
"This is Nanuq's most recent," she told us. The baby beluga was a third the length of the others and, unlike the adults, it was a perfect, uniform dark gray. It moved to the far end of the pool but played around, coming up and looking our way and then submerging again.
I'd hoped in starting this project I would learn something about myself by trying new things, specifically things that I've been drawn to (even if, or especially if, for no obvious reason). With this first venture I certainly did: I learned that I hate cold water and that I have a tendency to dramatize how things can turn out in my head. But more important, I realized that it could also be a venture into learning things about the world around me that I hadn't learned yet, and which can change the lens through which I view the world. When we try new things, meet new people, read books, watch films, teach ourselves to juggle... these things change us in slight ways. Give things attention and time and it's surprising how much you come to understand them and the world that created them. Which is why it is both important to avoid things that will change us in negative ways, and critical that we never stop pursuing new adventures that will help us grow and improve ourselves. I know more about belugas than I ever thought I would've learned (both in preparation for and during this experience); not just about their species, but also about how personality can come through via simple gestures. I watched a beluga respond to hand signals the way I would respond to verbal commands. And I also watched her choose not to comply when she wasn't in the mood and add a bit of play at a person's expense just because she felt like it. I didn't meet representatives of a species, but individuals who happen to live in the same city I do, who belong to a very different species, and who are far away from what they know as home (a fact that I consider with mixed emotions since it enables our meeting but robs these beings of the sense of belonging to their environment). Because of this, the viewing room of their enclosure has come to mean all the more.
I have a great respect for animals and do my best not to romanticize or anthropomorphize their attributes, behaviors and expressions. This can be difficult. Among the earliest toys most kids in the Western world have is a plush toy that they come to associate with protection, love and friendship. It's ironic that these plush toys often depict animals that in reality would eat those kids given the opportunity: bears, tigers, pandas, etc. This isn't to say that protectiveness, love and friendship are alien concepts in the animal world, or lacking among predators like the ones I named. They are not. But animals, even the ones we come to see as pets, aren't prone to offer protection, love and friendship to complete strangers, animal or human. They are individuals looking to survive on this planet where they must adjust to their environment and avoid danger as much as possible. And strangers are dangerous... or at least risky.
We share many things with animals and if I suggest that I don't anthropomorphize, it's only to mean that I don't so much see human characteristics in animals as I see similarities between us. Humans are animals, too. We all adapt to our surroundings, we have internal clocks, we fear death, we experience attraction, we solve problems, we respond to emotions and we manipulate.
Mammals, especially mammals with very big brains, are particularly good at the latter two, which is what made my first project a little harrowing. I wanted to be in the water with a beluga whale.
When I tell people this I'm always asked "Why not dolphins?" People expect dolphins. Always dolphins. With good reason, I suppose: dolphins are found all over the world and so are very familiar, they are social animals, they are curious and will approach people, and they have been known to protect divers from sharks. Lovely. Here's the thing, though, dolphins can also be mean, vindictive and aggressive. They are predators, afterall. And as large and powerful as they are, they can do serious damage. There is only one verified incident of a dolphin actually killing a person (1994 in Brazil) but there are many incidents of people getting hurt by dolphins biting and pulling them underwater. Belugas, on the other hand, have a much milder disposition. Though belugas and dolphins have similar diets, belugas are opportunistic feeders, often foraging on the sea floor for their food. They don't seem to exhibit the same aggressive hunting behavior as dolphins. And they are very skittish. If you are in the presence of a beluga and make a sudden movement, they are very likely to swiftly get the hell out of there. They're big... bigger than dolphins. But they don't have the same track record of hurting people.
All that reasoning, and the repeated experience of watching these whales at Sea World, made me much more comfortable with the idea, at least safety wise.
My partner, Kevin, surprised me with reservations at Sea World San Diego to do the Beluga Interaction Program (http://seaworldparks.com/en/seaworld-sandiego/Attractions/Exclusive-Park-Experiences/Beluga-Interaction-Program). We'd talked about doing this a few times and had a couple of opportunities that we'd passed up, which I regretted when the program was temporarily shut down for renovations for a year. Just because it was safe didn't mean it was free of conflict, however, as SeaWorld, along with many aquariums and zoos have been guilty of suspicious practices, the most disgusting being the indiscriminate capture of wild animals for their exhibits. Over the last decade, much attention has been brought to the likes of Sea World for purchasing their more profitable animals (dolphins, orcas and some sharks) from groups that use inhumane practices to capture animals and which provide them just as easily to animal parks as they do to the meat industry. For an honest and disturbing look into this world, I recommend two documentaries: "The Cove" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1313104/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1) and "Blackfish" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2545118/?ref_=sr_1). I don't mean to suggest that all of the work that zoos and aquariums do is suspect. There are many critical breeding programs that have advanced only because of these places. That the sideshows which attract crowds and money are what pays for these programs is unfortunate and opens up an important area for discourse on how to provide much needed education and research without betraying the same respect and humane treatment of wildlife many of these organizations are trying to promote.
I learned that, though the dolphins and orcas at San Diego SeaWorld have been the subject of controversy, the belugas have been mostly bred in the park, making San Diego SeaWorld one of only two successful breeding programs for belugas in the world. Belugas are notoriously difficult to breed in captivity and the belugas found in most aquariums are wild caught. Nanuq, a beluga in San Diego SeaWorld, has fathered 5 of the 7 belugas at the park.
According to the website, the Interaction Program was not available yet but Kevin had called Sea World to check when it might restart and received the happy news that he could book us for the encounter that weekend.
The day of I was nervous. Nervous because it's scary to come face to face with a whale and also because I had so much expectation built up and was concerned I'd be let down. The Beluga Interaction Program starts infront of the arctic exhibit, which you'd think would've tipped me off to just how cold that water would be. But I was so excited and nervous about being in the water with the whales that I didn't even think about it.
The program begins with a behind-the-scenes tour of the walrus and polar bear exhibits. Both interesting in their own ways. The male walrus was a rescue and I forgot his name. But he was very fond of fish and was perfectly comfortable with people feeding him. All you had to do was get the fish close to his mouth and, like a vacuum, he'd suck the fish in. I am not good about these things. Whenever animals are made to perform I feel like, just as anybody would, they will likely tire of the same old shit, and I'll be the unlucky fool who gets his whole hand sucked into a walrus because he's done with fish and, well, maybe human flesh tastes better. I imagined myself getting caught and the giant thing trying to pull me into his enclosure amidst my screams and the screams of the horrified trainers. But seeing as it was highly unlikely I would ever again have the chance to feed a walrus by hand, I built up my courage and gave him a couple of fish, getting close enough to let his whiskers graze my hand. No tragedy.
There was a female walrus but she was having none of it. Stayed away from the crowd and instead made all kinds of noise to get attention even as she insisted on not participating. The trainer simply said she was "being a diva." See, sometimes they do get tired of the show.
The polar bear experience was not nearly as intimate, but I think that was the point. At any moment there were at least two heavy duty security doors between us and the bear. And from that vantage point it was easy to see how polar bears could turn into plush toys. They look so calm and playful. It's easy to forget that the moment there aren't two heavy duty security doors between you, the thing would be trying to devour you.
This is what we could see of the bear:
And this is inevitably what the bear must've seen looking back at us:
Then it was time for the belugas and I could hardly contain myself. But the suspense was still being built up. We were taken to changing rooms where we were to put on wet suits provided by SeaWolrd. This was my first time putting one of these things on and I felt surprisingly sexy in it. For those who have never been in a wet suit: it's kind of a mix of superhero tights and leather chaps. For those who have been in a wet suit: stop rolling your eyes.
Once in the wet suit, we were walked through the display area that I'd become so familiar with and through a locked door into the exhibit. I think I started to do a little dance at this point because not only was I going to be in the water with a beluga, but it was in the same exhibit I'd come to know and love the last three years.
And then I was given the big fat caveat about wet suits: the term "wet suit" is actually a very accurate name because you do infact get wet. Very wet. Water soaks through the suit and a thin layer of this water remains in contact with your skin. Your body heat warms up this water and the suit then keeps that layer from moving, which means you have a layer of warm water surrounding you. Ultimately you will feel warmer than the surrounding water. But initially you will get hit with the full force of the temperature of the water you are stepping into. And the water, in this case, is 55 degrees Fahrenheit. Doesn't sound bad, right? It doesn't because when we think of 55 degrees Fahrenheit, we are thinking of how it feels on a chilly morning in San Diego or a crisp afternoon during the Fall in Michigan. But 55 degrees in air is NOT 55 degrees in water. In water, 55 degrees feels like something's trying to remove the warmth from your very soul.
We were reassured that we would "warm up in no time." This was, in a word, bullshit. When I stepped into that cold ass pool, the water rushed in through the suit so I felt like I was not wearing anything at all. I had to fight the instinct to jump back out. Only thing that kept me going was seeing two belugas in the distance coming close to the surface and then disappearing into the indigo darkness of the pool.
As we continued to walk in the cold kept getting worse, my limbs would not stop shaking and I could hardly speak from the shivering. I actually felt like I was fighting passing out. I'm a Caribbean boy, people, and we are not used to this temperature. The only thing that took my mind from that was the warning the trainer gave us about where we were standing. It was a grated platform that only extended 20 feet out. Beyond that the pool descended another 18-20 feet.
"You can get really excited being with these guys but if you forget and step off the flatform, that's what's waiting for you."
I felt my own mortality at that moment. Could not get my mind to focus on anything else but being too close to that edge and reaching over too far, or the beluga making a quick move, and plunging me into frozen ass water in which it would be impossible to swim because my limbs would not respond to my brain. With that wet suit saturated with water I would sink (just like you sink when you try to swim in jeans... alot of people drown that way), my arms and legs shaking like I'm having an epileptic seizure, all the while looking up to the fading faces of the trainer, Kevin and the other folks who were participating.
Then the trainer interrupted my semi-romantic death-scene with "But don't worry, you won't sink. The wet suit will make you float and we'll all point and laugh along with the spectators as you bob around the pool"
Float? Now I imagined myself circulating the entire enclosure instead, bouncing off the glass walls where children and parents are watching amused by the idiot who didn't heed warnings about the platform. My limbs would be quivering from the cold so I'd look like an insect writhing helplessly on the water surface. I was still not getting anywhere near that edge. Ridicule is not a great option either.
The trainer called over one of the belugas, Nanuq, the stud that had fathered most of the beluga whales at the park, and this first close look at one of these creatures was as mesmerizing as those moments in the viewing room. They're perfectly white. As white as fresh snow. Dolphins and other whales all have markings. Their bodies show at least slight variations in tone and hue, especially between the underbelly and the dorsal fin side. But belugas are the same color regardless of what angle you look from. This radiant, perfect white that makes them look like a canvas God forgot to paint.
They have a curious way of hovering in the water, much like humming birds do in mid-air, and can swim backwards (the only whales that can do so), which the two that we met had no problem doing if anyone moved too quickly. For the most part, though, they seemed perfectly at ease with us, and we were able to be in close contact with them.
There were the necessary (though frankly incredibly cute) poses with the belugas kissing each of us or rising out of the water while we held onto their fins, as if the were sharing a dance, as well as a surprise soaking, which strangely enough made the 55 degrees feel better. All of these were met with fish from the trainer or the participants to give positive reinforcement of the behavior. But I just enjoyed touching them, being in such close proximity. Their bodies feel strange. The blubber that covers them (which gives them buoyancy, allows them to store energy, and protects them from near freezing temperatures) is not like the fat we're used to. It's tougher, firmer, but has give and sways when you put pressure on it, making it feel like you're laying your hand on raw steak.
"She knows she's not supposed to do that," the trainer said.
That's precisely why she deserved two fish, in my opinion. Obedience, abidance to expected behavior are overrated. It's nice to see that this playful mischief is not unique to humans... that we have inherited it along with many other animals and that in being something we have in common, it's a way for us to communicate.
We left the water and before getting out of our wetsuits the trainer said she had one final surprise for us. We were walked into a beluga enclosure that was not open to viewing. In it there were four belugas swimming around, among them a baby.
"This is Nanuq's most recent," she told us. The baby beluga was a third the length of the others and, unlike the adults, it was a perfect, uniform dark gray. It moved to the far end of the pool but played around, coming up and looking our way and then submerging again.
I'd hoped in starting this project I would learn something about myself by trying new things, specifically things that I've been drawn to (even if, or especially if, for no obvious reason). With this first venture I certainly did: I learned that I hate cold water and that I have a tendency to dramatize how things can turn out in my head. But more important, I realized that it could also be a venture into learning things about the world around me that I hadn't learned yet, and which can change the lens through which I view the world. When we try new things, meet new people, read books, watch films, teach ourselves to juggle... these things change us in slight ways. Give things attention and time and it's surprising how much you come to understand them and the world that created them. Which is why it is both important to avoid things that will change us in negative ways, and critical that we never stop pursuing new adventures that will help us grow and improve ourselves. I know more about belugas than I ever thought I would've learned (both in preparation for and during this experience); not just about their species, but also about how personality can come through via simple gestures. I watched a beluga respond to hand signals the way I would respond to verbal commands. And I also watched her choose not to comply when she wasn't in the mood and add a bit of play at a person's expense just because she felt like it. I didn't meet representatives of a species, but individuals who happen to live in the same city I do, who belong to a very different species, and who are far away from what they know as home (a fact that I consider with mixed emotions since it enables our meeting but robs these beings of the sense of belonging to their environment). Because of this, the viewing room of their enclosure has come to mean all the more.
