Beached Whale

The television was on low in the background this morning as I sipped my coffee and pored over Ric O’Barry’s To Free A Dolphin in an effort to extrapolate some information for a new project on which I am working. It may have been divine providence that I was multi-tasking in this way when I saw the “Breaking News” from Jupiter on the TV and reached for the remote to turn up the sound. The video was obviously being shot from a helicopter and it was transmitting a picture of a small whale who had beached herself right here in Jupiter. A crowd had already begun to surround her. I grabbed my camera and shot out the door, intent on getting to the beach.

I guess I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I got there. I am not trained in marine mammal rescue, after all. But I know enough to follow directions, and I was hoping that there was someone that was in charge there, someone who knew just what to do. I was hoping that there was an expert there who could make it all better.

And, as it turns out, an expert is what this poor animal needed. An expert. One. But instead, what she got was a whole bunch of people who said they were the “deciders” and nobody who could actually make a decision. And because of this ineptitude, this poor animal had to suffer for hours on the beach, struggling to breathe beneath the her own weight pressing upon her lungs, in front of hundreds of gawkers, before she was finally, humanely put out of her misery.

It seemed to me that there were three options here. She could have been brought back out to sea; she could have been euthanized on the beach; she could have been removed to a rehabilitation center. I don’t know why it took them so long to figure out the best way to handle the emergency. And there were people standing around inside the police line that were clearly not there to help, but to gape and look important. They were making phone calls and taking photos oblivious to the fact that a magnificent and sentient being was fighting for her life right in front of them. I saw a man from The Town there who worked at the motor pool. What was his purpose there? There were scores of Jupiter Police there yet crowd control left a lot to be desired. One activist friend of mine called ahead to ask what she could bring to help. She was told to bring fresh water for the rescuers who had been out in the hot sun for hours. She stopped and purchased bottled water and ice. She dragged a cooler full of water and ice along the beach after parking far, far away. She told the police officer what she had for the rescuers only to be blown off. She had to lug her offerings all the way back to the car.

And the crowd acted as if they were at the state fair. One man commented that it was a good thing that he didn’t have to go on a whale watching trip now because the whales come to you! Kids were laughing and horsing around, as were young men. People were laughing and joking and acting like this was a party instead of a solemn tragedy. I was sickened by their attitude.

In the end she was put down. But it took too long because nobody wanted to make the decision to do the right thing. Nobody wanted to say that “No, she cannot be saved” or “Yes, let’s take her to rehab”. So they stood around and did nothing until it was too late to do anything.
We have a beach here. Now, we need a plan.