Martha Holmes is a marine biologist and wildlife film maker, who has extensive experience with killer whalesTwo words describe my first encounter with killer whales in the wild: absolutely terrifying. And yet the strange thing is, until they unexpectedly surfaced right next to our suddenly rather small Zodiac dinghy, I'd been so looking forward to seeing them.
After all, I'm a marine biologist by training and a wildlife documentary maker by profession; killer whales were animals I was desperate to see.
Yet the reality, in the Pacific waters off the west coast of the Galapagos Islands, was almost too much. So close I could put out a hand and touch them (something that instinctively I thought I wouldn't do) their size and power was overwhelming.
This, I knew, was supposed to be one of the most amazing moments of my life - and in some ways it was - but the truth was it was also very, very frightening.
They were very big, very fast (they had no trouble overtaking our boat) and, although they are the biggest member of the dolphin family, it was clear that this particular pod weren't about to roll on their back and clap their flippers together any time soon.
I really was in the company of one of the great natural-born killers of the sea.
That first encounter was more than 20 years ago, and I've been fortunate enough both to carry on making wildlife documentaries such as Blue Planet and Life and to film killer whales all over the world.
I've filmed them in Antarctica on several occasions now and in Norwegian fjords too, but I've never forgotten the lesson of that first time. You treat killer whales - Orcinus orca to use their well-known Latin name - with a great deal of respect.
Sometimes, I won't even let our experienced cameramen and women in the water. When they do go in, it's only to film a pod of whales that we've got to know well.
Dawn Brancheau was killed by killer whale Tillikum at SeaWorld in OrlandoI've seen orcas killing all sort of different prey and, although there are no reliable reports of them ever killing a human in the wild, I know what they can do.
They are intelligent, resourceful and infinitely adaptable creatures; killing prey is simply what they do best.
So, on one level, it's tempting to say that the tragic death this week of Mrs Brancheau was simply a result of the whale following its natural instincts.
And that might, conceivably, be true; killer whales can certainly take prey from the shallows, as anyone who's seen that incredible footage of them hunting sea lion pups on a Patagonian beach in the BBC's Blue Planet series can attest.
But all my instincts, as both scientist and conservationist, are that Tillikum was not acting naturally at all. I'm convinced that keeping such big marine creatures in such small water parks is cruel and places the animals under tremendous stress.
Martha Holmes describes seeing killer whales in their natural habitat as 'absolutely terrifying'
The size and power of these creatures is completely overwhelmingThese are creatures which normally have entire oceans to swim in, not tiny blue-tiled pools.
In the wild, they are also extraordinarily social creatures; like human beings they need company. You normally find them swimming in close knit family
groups - they 'talk' to each other, mothers pass on vital life lessons to their calves and, of course, they hunt together; often as a pack.
Take away that that vital social network - either by capturing a wild killer whale, as they used to until the mid-Nineties, or raising one bred in captivity - and you're taking away one of the absolute cornerstones of a killer whale's life.
It's like placing a human being in solitary confinement - for life. It probably has the same consequences, too.
So I'm pretty sure that Mrs Brancheau knew she was taking a calculated risk working with killer whales.
I've never been to one of these SeaWorld-style parks - the experience, I'm quite sure would sicken me - but I do know they justify their existence by arguing that they educate as well as entertain.
Whales should never be kept in capitivity, according to Martha Holmes
The fearsome reputation of the killer whale is well earned, and their power should not be underestimatedWell, I'm sorry but I just don't buy that argument; these sea life parks primarily provide cheap thrills and surprise soakings to tourists. If they do pass on any knowledge, it's certainly not enough to justify keeping these magnificent creatures in such wretched captivity.
As a documentary-maker, my objective is both to inform and entertain, too, but we go about it in a completely different way. Working in the wild, we're in and out with minimum disturbance to the creatures we're filming. We find, we observe, we film - and then we move on.
There is a huge amount we now know about the life cycle and behaviour of killer whales because a generation of dedicated scientists have spent years, often decades, observing them in the wild. As film-makers, we simply help them get their wonderful discoveries over to a broader public.
That's what led our film unit for the BBC Life series to the Falklands Islands. We were there to film elephant seal pups taking to the water for the first time in a naturally protected tidal pool, which they use for just two weeks a year.
But what we also filmed was the only killer whale on the planet which has worked out that, helped by a series of elaborate manoeuvres, it too can get into the pup's swimming pool.
Killer whales should be left in the wild to enjoy their natural habitat and company of other whalesIn typical orca fashion, it is now passing the knowledge on to its own calf so soon there will be two killer whales who know how to pull off this amazing feat.
They are adaptable, too - some of my colleagues have shot wonderful footage of groups of three or four whales deliberately creating waves in an attempt to dislodge crab-eating seals off Antarctic ice-floes, and of other pods spending hours in Monterey Bay patiently trying to separate a vulnerable grey whale calf from its protective mother - and eventually succeeding.
They don't just eat fish and seals, they eat other whales, too, although rather wastefully they sometimes only eat the tongue. Some sort of killer whale delicacy, I suppose.
So their fearsome reputation is well earned. I vividly remember a good friend, a polar adventurer, telling me how she was enjoying skiing fast over some relatively thin ice, until she suddenly realised she was being pursued by a very large, black and white shadow, just feet away, under the ice.
Could the orca have broken through? Sensibly, she didn't hang around to find out.
But the image that sticks with me most is one that really exemplifies why these wonderful creatures should never be kept alone in captivity. My team and I had travelled to the Norwegian fjords where vast shoals of herring over-winter and where hungry killer whales come to feed.
They do so by a complex manoeuvre known as carouseling, which involves a group of orcas detaching a smaller shoal of herring, and then swimming round them, faster and faster, while more whales swim beneath and force the whole whale-made, herring-filled whirlpool towards the surface where the herring, of course, have nowhere left to go.
When the herring are exhausted and cornered, the killer whales give one hard underwater slam of their tails, stunning the herring. Then, of course, they eat them.
Now that's a manoeuvre - requiring speed, teamwork and considerable intelligence - you will never see in a sea life park.
It's my fervent belief that you shouldn't see orcas in a sea life park, at all.
These awe-inspiring creatures are too big, too social and too intelligent to spend a lifetime in what is little more than an over-sized swimming pool.
Seventeen years after our dorsal-finned hero jumped the fence and swam to freedom in the Hollywood hit, Free Willy, it's time to get the killer whales out of sea life parks down for good.
source: dailymail
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