after midnight to give the calf a second dose of fluids left staff tired. Kayavak, on the other hand, acted as if the night had just begun. She looked for attention and repeatedly swam over to the trainers stationed poolside. Clearly, she wanted them in the water with her.
We took her cue and started a new rotation: swimming with Kayavak. Trainers lined up for this assignment. It hardly felt like work. They swam alongside the curious whale or floated on rafts within reach, allowing her to brush their hands as she passed nearby. If Kayavak was grieving, she was also pragmatic. She learned very quickly where she could get the attention she wanted. These wet-suited people might not be great swimmers, but they were acceptable as new companions.
I often marvel at how much we know about these animals, yet how much more we need to learn. Although you won't find the definitive textbook on rearing orphaned beluga calves on your library shelf, you will find, among the ranks of veterinarians the world over, a willingness to innovate, to extrapolate, and to share experiences. We tapped into the aquarium world network again to explore our third option for Kayavak: weaning her straight onto fish.
No one had tried this approach in a whale calf. But we heard several encouraging stories about dolphins. Young dolphins will start eating whole fish even while continuing to nurse. We heard about one dolphin successfully weaned from nursing at six months of age. Although the information trickling in from our colleagues did not exactly amount to a peer-reviewed scientific paper, it did represent the most intriguing and, in many ways, the least risky of our three choices. Conventional wisdom was that a six-month-old whale needs milk. But if a six-month-old dolphin could survive on fish, why couldn't a whale calf? Plus, we were sure we could train Kayavak to eat.
We met to share our ideas. Veterinarians, curators, and trainers pooled their thoughts and expertise while the aquarium's director looked on. We called more experts, combed the literature, and borrowed a page or two from domestic animal medicine. There was no clear right answer. The only wrong answer was inaction, and so we moved quickly.
By the first light of morning, we had our decision. We would abruptly wean Kayavak onto solid food. With this approach, we'd have control over her nutrition and intake; we could weigh her routinely, monitor her for illness, and still have the option of providing fluids and milk by tube-feeding if necessary. We'd blend aggressive veterinary medicine, expert animal care, and intensive animal training. We'd teach Kayavak how to eat and then wean her from usâsooner rather than later.
Kayavak ate her first fish on December 27.At that session, she received three herring. Though she gave us a quizzical look, she seemed no worse for the experience. By day's end, she'd received two and a half kilograms of fish, or about 20 percent of what we'd calculated she would need each day. We continued to supplement her with fluids and treat her with antibiotics. The next day she was up to three and a half kilos. By week's end, she was approaching trainers for food as well as attention. After three weeks, she was eagerly taking fish from the trainers.
As expected, the whale lost weight at first, but she remained bright-eyed, energetic, and responsive to her human caretakers. She handled her new diet well, and her appetite was growing. After two months, the calf had surpassed her original weight. She was ready to meet the other whales.
Before Immi's death, Kayavak and her mother had lived together in a pool separate from the other belugas. They had access to each other only across netted gates. We wanted to minimize the chance of complications during birth and limit the risk of aggression toward the newborn. Mother belugas tend to be very protective of their babies. Additionally, female whales will sometimes try to steal another mother's calf. Now we followed a
We took her cue and started a new rotation: swimming with Kayavak. Trainers lined up for this assignment. It hardly felt like work. They swam alongside the curious whale or floated on rafts within reach, allowing her to brush their hands as she passed nearby. If Kayavak was grieving, she was also pragmatic. She learned very quickly where she could get the attention she wanted. These wet-suited people might not be great swimmers, but they were acceptable as new companions.
I often marvel at how much we know about these animals, yet how much more we need to learn. Although you won't find the definitive textbook on rearing orphaned beluga calves on your library shelf, you will find, among the ranks of veterinarians the world over, a willingness to innovate, to extrapolate, and to share experiences. We tapped into the aquarium world network again to explore our third option for Kayavak: weaning her straight onto fish.
No one had tried this approach in a whale calf. But we heard several encouraging stories about dolphins. Young dolphins will start eating whole fish even while continuing to nurse. We heard about one dolphin successfully weaned from nursing at six months of age. Although the information trickling in from our colleagues did not exactly amount to a peer-reviewed scientific paper, it did represent the most intriguing and, in many ways, the least risky of our three choices. Conventional wisdom was that a six-month-old whale needs milk. But if a six-month-old dolphin could survive on fish, why couldn't a whale calf? Plus, we were sure we could train Kayavak to eat.
We met to share our ideas. Veterinarians, curators, and trainers pooled their thoughts and expertise while the aquarium's director looked on. We called more experts, combed the literature, and borrowed a page or two from domestic animal medicine. There was no clear right answer. The only wrong answer was inaction, and so we moved quickly.
By the first light of morning, we had our decision. We would abruptly wean Kayavak onto solid food. With this approach, we'd have control over her nutrition and intake; we could weigh her routinely, monitor her for illness, and still have the option of providing fluids and milk by tube-feeding if necessary. We'd blend aggressive veterinary medicine, expert animal care, and intensive animal training. We'd teach Kayavak how to eat and then wean her from usâsooner rather than later.
Kayavak ate her first fish on December 27.At that session, she received three herring. Though she gave us a quizzical look, she seemed no worse for the experience. By day's end, she'd received two and a half kilograms of fish, or about 20 percent of what we'd calculated she would need each day. We continued to supplement her with fluids and treat her with antibiotics. The next day she was up to three and a half kilos. By week's end, she was approaching trainers for food as well as attention. After three weeks, she was eagerly taking fish from the trainers.
As expected, the whale lost weight at first, but she remained bright-eyed, energetic, and responsive to her human caretakers. She handled her new diet well, and her appetite was growing. After two months, the calf had surpassed her original weight. She was ready to meet the other whales.
Before Immi's death, Kayavak and her mother had lived together in a pool separate from the other belugas. They had access to each other only across netted gates. We wanted to minimize the chance of complications during birth and limit the risk of aggression toward the newborn. Mother belugas tend to be very protective of their babies. Additionally, female whales will sometimes try to steal another mother's calf. Now we followed a
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