Swimming with dolphins? It’s as demeaning as what they did to Tilly

Liz Jones, Mail Online 27 Feb 10;

I’m in a rubber dinghy two miles off the Cornish coast. I can see splashing in the distance, and we cut our engine.

Within seconds, two dolphins speed towards the boat. They have recognised not only the sound of the engine, but also the shock of blond hair of my guide, marine ecologist Duncan Jones, who takes tourists out each day to observe the wildlife in the bay off Penzance.

The dolphins – whom Duncan in turn recognises as Cookie and Sleeky, two juvenile male bottlenoses who live in a civil partnership pod – start showing off.

They show me their pale tummies, they perform back flips and they swim, at incredible speed – up to 30knots, or 35mph – straight at us, swerving at the last minute to disappear beneath the boat.

This, according to Duncan, is their idea of a joke. Dolphins have a sense of humour?

‘Oh yes,’ he says. ‘Like us, they are capable of abstract thought. By studying the noises they make, scientists have found that dolphins even have names for each other.

‘They form strong family bonds, using other adults to babysit, for example.’

Dolphins are incredibly tactile, too, and one of their means of communication and reassurance is flipper rubbing – a bit like hand holding.

They are just like us, then? ‘Not really. They have learned to live in peace and harmony with their environment. They are just full of the joy of being alive.’

Dolphins and whales in the wild are indeed incredibly optimistic creatures, according to Margaux Dodds, co-founder of the Marine Connection dolphin and whale welfare charity.

In captivity, though, it’s a different story. In dolphinariums, forced to perform tricks for food, the animals have been known to ram their heads against the sides, knocking themselves out, trying to end their torment.

Animals enclosed in ‘sea pens’ for all those ‘swimming with dolphins’ holidays, and no longer able to use sonar to find food, become bored and depressed, often entangling themselves in nets to drown.

I have taken my wet suit along for my boat ride in Cornwall, in the naive hope I’ll be able to get into the water and swim with these amazing animals. But Duncan tells me this is against the rules.

‘These animals are sociable, but they can become stressed by humans if we force ourselves on them, not to mention the grave danger of cross-species infection.’

There are no longer any dolphinariums in the UK – the last closed in the early Nineties – but Thomson and Virgin Holidays, to name just two tour operators, are actively selling ‘swimming with dolphins’ holidays worldwide.

When approached, the only response from Virgin so far has been a terse: ‘Swimming with dolphins holidays offer a valuable experience for our customers’.

But Margaux Dodds says: ‘Any holiday that promises you will interact with dolphins means you will be swimming with captive dolphins, and perpetuating this cruel trade.

‘Many believe these dolphins are born in captivity. But wild captures to supply facilities are still common, with some coming from the notorious annual drive hunts in Japan. Demand from marine parks makes this a lucrative business for dolphin traders.’

In the Solomon Islands a ban on captures was overturned by the government to allow dolphins to be taken to supply the Atlantis Palm resort in Dubai.

No one has been allowed near the dolphins in Dubai, but there are unsubstantiated reports that four have already died.

Last week, the inevitable happened. Animal trainer (I hate that word) Dawn Brancheau was killed when an orca, or killer whale, the largest member of the dolphin family, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her under the water.

Newspaper reports made much of the fact that Ms Brancheau had known the orca, Tilly, for 16 years but I could only think, my God, that intelligent animal had been performing circus tricks for her for nearly two decades!

He had been captured, aged two, in the waters of Iceland, and has been living in a glorified bathtub for 30 years. No wonder he finally snapped.

The animal has been spared by his owners (hate that word; let’s call them what they really are: jailers), Seaworld Orlando, not through any sense of compassion, but because he is a lucrative source of revenue.

Back in our boat off the coast of Cornwall, Duncan Jones switches on the engine, and as we point towards the shore, Cookie and Sleeky ride our bows, grinning widely, deliberately trying to splash me, before whizzing off to investigate another boat leaving the harbour.

I can’t help wondering why we think we have the right to exploit and humiliate such delightful creatures. Surely it’s time to end what is the modern-day equivalent of bear-baiting.