CHAPTER TWENTY – FIVE
Weeks went by as I learned more and more from the whale
and at times even the dolphins. The training tank took on almost a
classroom atmosphere; the dolphins and Dreamer were the teachers
and I was the lowly student.
The aquarium staff members constantly teased me about my
obsession and belief in the mammals’ ability to communicate. Pe-
ter, though, rarely broached the subject, and his smiles now seemed
more in pity than flirtation. Lambert tolerated my research because
the whale seemed to learn the performance routines very quickly.
My life was wrapped in a slow-motion dream as I absorbed all
the whale could teach. But late one afternoon the reality of life at
the marina splashed over me like an ice-cold shower. I was crossing
the breezeway heading toward Dreamer’s tank when I felt the fat
fingers of the good doctor grab my arm and spin me around. “Ah,
Sharoon,” he drawled, “no time for your normal foolishness, today.
I was up north on the coast earlier this morning with the live-bait
crew and we seemed to have snagged a little bonus in our nets. Get
your medical gear ready. You’re about to have a new pet to chat
with.” He laughed in my face and then waddled hurriedly away.
I found Peter in the lab and he told me what had happened.
Another dolphin had been isolated in a bay a short way up the coast
from the marina; Lambert himself had made the sighting. In spite
of federal and state sanctions and his lack of necessary permits, he
had snared a new dolphin for his collection. I was put in charge of
the transfer and recovery.
Not knowing what to expect but having seen Lambert’s crude
netting techniques firsthand, I checked my stocks of antibiotics. A
short time later Peter excitedly drew me outside near the medical
holding pens and urged me to look up. There above us, hanging
beneath a hovering helicopter, was a dolphin wrapped in a canvas
sling. I grabbed the padded gurney that we used to move the dol-
phins and with wheels wobbling we ran to the spinning sling. Work-
ing in the downward blast of the helicopter’s rotors, we lashed the
struggling creature to the gurney as the clamps were released.
The dolphin appeared to me none the worse for wear, but
its eyes were opened wide in fear. We wheeled the gurney across
the compound and into the lab. Lambert appeared moments later,
his oily smile showing his feelings of self-satisfaction with the wild
capture. “That helicopter hay ride,” he mouthed, “was an act of pure
genius. We had the media following us from the bay like ants follow-
ing a trail of sugar.”
I wildly texted, “Did you ever stop to think that we may not
have room for another dolphin? Did you stop to think that there
was going to be a furor over the capture of another dolphin without
a permit?” Peter who abruptly swung me around thwarted my anger.
“Come here,” he mouth-spoke, “you better see this.”
I turned to the examination of the dolphin, and the source
of Peter’s concern was instantly obvious. The dolphin was female
and she was very pregnant. As Lambert danced about in glee,
celebrating his double capture, I examined the frightened creature
that trembled on the gurney. Shots of antibiotic were quickly ad-
ministered and then a small dose of tranquilizer. I rubbed my hands
above her brow-ridge to soothe her anxiety, and then, mercifully, the
drug took effect and she slept.
While the dolphin was under the gentle restraint of the drug,
I did a complete exam and was shocked to discover that, not only
was the baby due at any time, but it was twisted into a breach po-
sition. No matter how I twisted it and tried to move the embryonic
sac, the child stayed in position. This birth could not be natural. If
it had taken place in the wild, the mother and child would have died
horrible and agonizing deaths.
Peter confirmed my observations, and, after some discus-
sion, we felt it would be better to leave her in the observation pond
until just before she was ready to give birth. At that time, we would
have to perform a cesarean section. As she began to revive from
the drug, we moved her back outside and lowered her into the calm
waters of the holding pen. I steadied her in the water until she was
fully immersed and then left her to awaken fully and explore her tiny
new sea. Observations began immediately, for this would be my first
experience with a captive birth.
Nothing of any consequence seemed to happen that night,
so I slipped away for a time to the whale tank. There in the water, I
signed of all that had occurred and of the impending birth. That is
the only time I sensed the true outrage of the dolphins and whale
at the random capture. “Why can’t the sandwalker,” the whale
sang, “let well enough be enough? Why capture more when more
are not needed?”
I tried in vain to validate the capture but the arguments I
once used freely sounded very hollow; the sandwalker’s unquench-
able thirst for man to understand all the natural things around him.
“Through capture comes research,” I lamely explained, “and with
research comes better handling of the captured creatures, along
with fewer deaths as the result of captivity.”
“I understand,” the whale whispered in contrasting vibra-
tion in my inner ear, “but there would be fewer deaths of brethren
if you left them in the wild. We who want to stay and are already
captured should be plenty enough for observation.” He paused, his
eyes closed in contemplation. Then he continued. “No, my thin-
finned friend, the sandwalker likes to possess things–alive or other-
wise–just for the sake of possession.” With that rebuff, he swam to
the other end of the tank, leaving me feeling very alone.
Early the next morning I was shocked to discover the preg-
nant female had been moved from the smaller medical pen to the
larger whale pen. They floated in the water–the older dolphins, the
whale, and the mother-to-be. I’m sure they were exchanging horror
stories of capture and captivity.
I stormed and fussed about, finally finding Lambert as he
watched throngs of paying patrons milling about and looking expec-
tantly into the tank. “Who gave you permission to mix the new female
with performance animals?” I texted. “She is quarantined, Dr. Lam-
bert, because she is about to give birth and needs to be observed.”
“First off, little missy,” he spat icily, continuing all the while to
smile and nod at his paying guests, “what better folk to observe a
birth than the paying folk? Secondly, I don’t need permission to do
anything around here. I own this little circus, remember?”
“I remember a lot,” I shouted in mouth speak, “an awful lot. It
is best that you remember.”
“Oh,” he smiled, “you mean the untimely death of that un-
fortunate Beluga? Well, like many things remembered, that is best
forgotten, too. Oh, by the way, my good doctor, have you seen your
photos and the biopsies lately? I heard tell that things like that turn
up missing every day. Just when you need them the most, poof!
They are gone!” With that, he turned away, chuckling, and waddled
along with the crowd.
I blindly rushed to the lab and my office. There I rummaged
about through the back of my desk drawers where I had hidden the
pictures and the biopsies. I needn’t have bothered, Lambert was
not one to idly boast of a deed not done.
I sat back in my chair, wounded by the fact that my remaining
employment at the marina could probably be counted in days, may-
be hours. On the other hand, I was almost relieved that I was no
longer involved in this twisted soap opera. Good had been done,
but at what price to my own conscience! I sat there, feeling my
office vibrate with the distant shouts and cheers of the audience as
they watched the carnival whale and dolphin shows performed by
the gentlest of philosophers. I really had no idea what to do.
The crowd’s clapping and cheers crescendoed and then
subsided; I knew the whale and dolphins would be returning to their
holding pen soon. Slipping into my wet suit, I rushed out, eager
to “speak” with my newest charge. As I approached the tank, the
group floated gently waiting in anticipation of my visit.
From the training pad I bravely signed, “Joyful morning. I
pray that the song will always be sung.”
I then dove into the water to sense their response. The con-
trast of dryside to the waters of life shocked me with its crispness.
As the water washed over my body, my mind was washed in a re-
freshing answer to my dilemma. I knew exactly what I was going to
do! Just after the birth, I would free this wild dolphin and her child.
After exchanging pleasantries, I slowly began to sign-speak
through the Orca to the new dolphin. At first, she did not under-
stand my hand-speak signing nor how I heard them sing the song.
I would sign and pause while Dreamer translated. Fortunately, she
was very quick of study and soon abruptly asked, “When, then, may
I leave this place to join my mate? I am with child, and the birthing
will be soon. It is my desire to birth in the open sea. How soon?
How soon?”
I looked at her, with her gentle way, and patiently began to
move my hands slowly. “You shall be set free, if not by all, then by
me alone. But you cannot leave yet. You will not be freed until after
the baby is born.”
“But why not now?” the little mother wailed in frustration,
“Why must the child be born here?”
Once again I sign-spoke, “When you first arrived here I exam-
ined you with a device that can see beyond your flesh – deep in-
side. The child must be birthed here, for there is something wrong.
The child you carry is twisted, turned in an unnatural way. If you
birth in the open sea, alone, the child will die and so will you.”
The dolphin eyes widened in fear much as a human would in
a similar situation. Amazingly she quietly accepted the reality of
the situation, an acceptance of the fact that the child would have
to be birthed in this strange place and under my supervision. I
liked the pluck of this creature; I felt camaraderie with her and a
deep compassion.
That day and the next, not knowing what Lambert’s next
move would be, I quickly worked with the little dolphin that the oth-
ers called Laughter Ring. Her thirst for knowledge was unquench-
able as she consumed the illogic of the sandwalker’s history. She
seemed most perplexed by man’s desire to own parts of the world
and mostly by a human’s drive to accumulate wealth. Like all of her
kind she was nomadic. All of the sea was her home.
As I worked with her, she, too, began to work with me. Little
by little Laughter Ring began to tell me more and more of her ev-
eryday life. I was fascinated by the depth of her natural awareness
— the relative values she associated with life. She told me of the
waters of her birth; a place the dolphins call Winsome Bright. It was
here she returned as a young adult and conceived the unborn child
as she was mated for life–wedded, if you would–to her mate, Little
Brother. She told me of their odyssey in the sea and of the chance
meeting with the great white whale, Harmony. “That whale touched
my life,” she vibrated in the water, “as he touched others with his
special singing of the Song of the Sea.” Her eyes misted as she ru-
minated, “Harmony’s song in time will resonate in all of the seas.”
I nearly stopped breathing when she mentioned the great
white whale. “I, too, have met a great white whale. I, too, was
touched by his passing in the sea.” And I told Laughter Ring
the story of the beaching–THE THOUSAND DEATHS OF THE
SANDWALKER.
“We were there,” she cried, as the vibration of her words rang
like a bell in my inner ear. “That was Harmony, and that was my
mate, Little Brother, and I who pulled him back to the sea.”
As the days went by, she and the others, hesitantly at first
but with confidence later, told me stories of great wonder, stories I
would be hard-pressed to tell others for fear they would think I had
gone completely crazy. These were intelligent creatures and part of
a complex society. They had a far deeper philosophical connection
with reality and the life that spun around than I could even wish for
on my most dream-filled nights.
Some days later, as I neared the observation tank and prepared
for my daily conversation with Laughter Ring, Dr. Lambert blocked
my path. “Well, Little Missy, I got good news, and I got bad news.
Good news is that we captured another one. Odd thing, though, is
that this dolphin wanted to be captured. Jumped right in the boat.
More the merrier, I always say. Once the fish gives birth, we’ll sell the
mother and this oddball new one and keep the baby. That’s the good
news. Bad news is that right after the birth I think you’d best pack
your bags and go live in a home for the handicapped.”
“What?” I mouthed.
“To put it bluntly, you’re done, Doctor Donelittle. Sorry, but I
just can’t tolerate lippy staff–even if they can’t hear. It’s real bad for
morale. Heh, heh!”
With that, he lit the butt of a partially smoked cigar and slith-
ered away.
Looking blankly into the pool, my mind began churning with
the prospect of kidnapping and freeing the dolphin. My plotting was
short-lived as suddenly Laughter Ring spun in the tank, twisted by
a great spasm. I leaped into the water and grabbed her in my arms,
not an easy task.
“It has begun,” excitedly sang the other dolphins. “The child
within wants out.”
I held her tight as spasm after spasm wracked her tiny frame.
Finally she exhaled softly and said, “It has passed, but the birthing
will be within this tide.”
“I will go,” I signed, “and bring other sandwalkers to help me
lift you from the water to take you where we can help.”
“No!” she exclaimed. “My child shall be born in the sea,
even if it is a sterile sea. I will accept no other way!”
I explained that there was great danger in attempting a ce-
sarean in the water; that the baby and she could both die, but she
refused to be swayed from her decision. I left her surrounded by the
dolphins and hurried from the pool to get Peter and my instruments.
As I raced down the concrete walkway, I saw splashing and
watched a member of the staff try to restrain the newly captured dol-
phin who was breaching over and over attempting to leap from one
tank to another.
Peter helped me up onto the platform and mouth spoke,
“What’s going on in the holding pen?”
Quickly I signed, “Lambert has caught another wild dolphin.
Wild being the relative term.”
Peter and I hurried up the metal stairs to Laughter Ring’s
holding tank where the others gently supported her. I dropped my
medical bag on the training platform and slipped into the pool with
Peter right behind. Laughter Ring’s head was just above the water;
her eyes squinted in pain.
Before I could continue, her body thrashed back and forth
with a heavy contraction. Twisting, muscle-tensing pain stiffened
her. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and she relaxed.
Moments later, she tensed again, and then again.
“The time comes soon!” she groaned.
“Oh, dear little dolphin,” I signed, “I hope we are doing
right to stay in the water. We will help, but it will be extremely diffi-
cult and dangerous!”
“I know,” she toned, “but it must be this way.”
An incessant hammering at the other end of the pool vibrated
through the water as the new dolphin kept throwing itself at the gate.
“What was that?” she sang.
“That,” I signed, “is yet another captured dolphin. He is an
odd catch in the fact that he seemed to demand to be caught even
though we didn’t want to catch him.”
Her body twisted in pain, but even so her eyes widened.
“Bring him here,” she cried, “Hurry!”
I reluctantly signed to Peter, who rushed to the end of the
tank and began twisting the massive gate control. Even before the
gate was completely open, the water at the end of the pool surged,
and the new dolphin scrambled through the opening.
I was rudely bumped out of the way as this interloper
splashed his way to Laughter Ring’s side. She turned and seemed
to smile. “This,” she sang as she grimaced in pain, “is the cause of
all this agony. This is the father of my child to be, my mate, Little
Brother.” Suddenly her body arched as she was wracked with a mas-
sive ontraction.
I pushed Little Brother out of the way and wrapped my arms
around her torso as she began to settle in the water. The baby was
coming and it was coming now. If ever I felt lost without sound,
now was the time. I bellowed as loud as I could, “Peter!” I have
no idea what the sound was but it was enough to get his attention.
As I struggled with the weight of the pregnant dolphin I saw a blur
behind me as totally clothed Peter leaped into the water. His arms
reached under mine and without effort lifted the dolphin to the
surface. I mouth-spoke quickly, “Roll her in your arms. I need her
belly exposed. I have to get that baby out now!” A mature dolphin
can weigh can weigh well-over 500 pounds. Laughter Ring was all
of that but Peter easily turned her body in the water and lifted her
clear. “No matter what, you must keep the wound above the water,”
I signed.
“Got it,” he smiled trying to reassure me.
While he held her inert body I scrambled up onto the train-
ing platform and fumbled in my bag. I quickly arranged what limited
surgical tools I had along the edge of the platform: suture scis-
sors, scalpel, sponge sticks, surgical stapler and several syringes
pre-loaded with heavy duty anesthetic.
The other dolphins moved Little Brother a safe distance away,
and I set to work. After injecting Laughter Ring with a double load
of anesthetic, I grabbed the scalpel and leaned over the still form. I
looked up at Peter and took a deep breath.
“How many of these have you done, Doc?” he mouthed
nervously.
“None,” I mouthed as I silkily sliced open her abdomen.
The water quickly clouded with blood that leached from the wound.
I worked at a fevered pitch as I carefully cut through the layers of
skin and muscle. Then suddenly the embryonic sac was revealed.
I carefully incised the gossamer membrane, and carefully lifted the
still form of the fetus from the cavity. The calf didn’t move and I
was beyond fearful that it was dead. My fears were short-lived. The
small dolphin eyes snapped open and I looked into its young trust-
ing soul. With a snap of its body it flopped from my hands and fell
into the water. I gasped for a moment fearing that the child was in
danger. But it was a creature of the sea and it was home. The baby
spun wildly through, the water the embryonic fluid and blood from
the surgery clouding the water in a pink mist.
My eyes blurring with tears, I quickly began suturing the
different layers of flesh and muscle. I could feel Peter’s arms shak-
ing from the exertion of holding the weight of the dolphin out of the
water. The wound sealed as best I could under the circumstances.
I pulled myself from the pool and maneuvered the wheeled crane
holding the sling to the edge of the pool. Peter began floating
Laughter Ring’s body into position as I slipped back in the water.
Carefully we rolled her back into an upright position and strapped
her into the canvas sling. For a time this was how she would have
to be maintained until the anesthetic wore off. In the meantime the
baby desperately needed to feed.
I then turned myself to the baby who was floating nearby in
the water, its tiny snout just above the surface. Carefully I slipped
my arm around its body and moved it beside the sleeping mother.
Instinctively it nuzzled the exposed belly and without hesitation be-
gan to nurse. With the dolphin pre-occupied I was able to examine
the calf. I looked up at Peter and signed, “It’s a girl.” An infectious
grin broke across his face.
As if to announce her own arrival, the calf stopped nursing
and gave forth an intense burst of vibrations. The first vibration,
this burst of buzzing, literally tickled me, and I broke out laughing
in joy, in relief, in exuberance at the continuation and the miracle of
life itself.
“Giggles,” I signed. “If the mother is Laughter Ring, then
surely her child should be called Giggles.”
Exhausted, Peter and I pulled ourselves from the water as the
male dolphin stood guard over his growing family. We repacked the
surgical tools scattered about the training platform. Without speak-
ing we began walking back to my office, but a few steps from the
pool both of us turned and watched as the newly-named Giggles and
the rest of the dolphins gathered around the sling holding Laugher
Ring. I looked up at Peter and signed. “Thank you. It wouldn’t
have happened if you weren’t here to help. I don’t know what I
would have done without you.”
His arm snaked around my shoulder and he smiled that smile.
“You know, Doc. There are times I don’t know what I would do with-
out you either.”
We stood there for a moment looking into one another’s
eyes and then both were washed over with a massive wave of awk-
wardness. What was going on? I could feel my cheeks reddening.
When in doubt my fingers flutter, signing like there was no tomor-
row. “Uh, yes. Without you there I would have had to call on Lam-
bert to help. I don’t think he even knows how to swim.”
Peter was still looking at me oddly as I continued rambling.
“Could you take the med kit back to my office? I am going to walk
home. Good for me to walk off some of the adrenaline after what
just happened.” Again, I blushed. “I mean the birth and all. Not
the, uh… ” I stopped, my hands froze in mid air. What was happen-
ing to me? I hated this.
Peter smiled, took the bag from my hand, spun on his heel
and walked away. I watched trying desperately to put all of these odd
feelings into place. If all wasn’t bad enough already Peter turned
as he reached my office door and looked back at me looking back
at him. He waved. I turned and walked briskly to the park entrance.
Like a balloon dancing on the wind I slipped through the security en-
trance and out onto the street bathed in the light of a misty sunset.
By the time I got back to the duplex, I was panting from
walking so fast but at least my mind was clear or at least as clear
as it was ever going to be. Better still, my parents’ car was parked
on the street. I ran the last half of block and threw myself into their
comforting embraces.
Excited I began to sign. “I am so glad you are here. I don’t
have much room but you guys can have the bedroom and I will
sleep on the couch.”
“No, no,” my father quickly signed. “We were driving up the
coast and thought we could drop in for coffee.”
“Plus,” my mother quickly added, “we need to get home to
the kids. ”The ‘kids’ were my parents’ name for Beluga, a golden
retriever and Guppy and Plover the cats, all named by me years ago.
We bustled inside and my mom made coffee while I changed
out of my still-damp clothes. They were sitting at the table chat-
ting when I came out of the bathroom, comfortable now in sweats
and a T-shirt.
“We kind of drove out of our way to come by,” my father
smiled. “We were having lunch and saw the news story about the
new dolphin Doctor Lambert had captured.”
“Well,” I added, “not exactly captured.” Over several cups of
coffee I told them of the day’s adventures. “So now we have three
more dolphins that we don’t need; Laughter Ring, Little Brother, and
their child Giggles.”
My mother looked concerned. “What will happen to them?”
I leaned back in my chair. “I don’t know,” I signed. But I did
know. Lambert would sell them deeper into captivity. Without think-
ing I added, “I think they will probably be freed. Back to the open
waters where they belong.”
“That would be nice,” my father signed.
That will be nice, I mentally groaned, when I figure it out. I
have a feeling that in doing so I will be committing employment
suicide. Who is going to hire a marine biologist who keeps giving
away the examples she is supposed to be examining?
Coffee drank and after hugs and kisses I was again alone my
thoughts spinning with the day’s events and knowing that I would
have to move quickly to free the captives.