Screw the animals, save the humans?

"You don't want to think about it... you don't want to feel guilty either."

So writes Joy Williams in her essay "Save the Whales, Screw the Shrimp." I've been thinking about this essay, and Williams' message for a few days now. Last week saw the rising fame of Tillikum, a 12,000 male Orca, who has probably surpassed Shamu with his fifteen minutes of fame for killing his trainer.

I don't like zoos and aquariums (seeing a polar bear lap at his puddle of melted ice while on display in Egypt is what ruined captive animals for me- I used to LOVE the zoo in my childhood), and since then, I've never enjoyed animals in captivity the way I once did, but I was at a SeaWorld show in Texas in May (my then boyfriend had free tickets as part of his "welcome-home-from-Iraq, we hope you're not too fucked up!" package, so we went. I watched the whales, marveled at their grace and awe, and fed the walrus. It was cool to see these animals that I don't have contact with, but in the end, I wanted them to be wild.

When I heard about Tillikum, and his history, I was incredibly sad, knowing that most people were probably angry at the whale... and then I read some of the posts on the NYTimes board regarding the story: "There are no winners in this situation, only a life (more than one to date) of a trainer lost, the animal itself as a victim, and the wild world in which these creatures interact is scorned. It is time past for us to no longer treat these animals as cartoons."

And this mixed response: "It was a risk of working with wild animals. The trainers knew that. Euthananizing and blaming the whale is ridiculous as is shutting down sea parks/zoos that play a crucial role in preserving wildlife and educating people about them."

Like this person, I feel that the trainer knew her risks, but what responsibilities did the park have in ensuring her safety? What role did they have in keeping a whale in the first place? Supply and demand.. nature and wild animals have become just one more commodification, which Williams so expertly points out in her essay. We humans want, want want, we want to be entertained and awed ( I could have said no to the SeaWorld adventure, but I did go), and we don't want to feel guilty for our part in any of it. But am I not just as guilty of the trainer's demise as that of the other humans Tillikum has killed? My dollars didn't exactly pay for the ticket, but they did. I mean, my tax dollars go to the Army, which provided the ticket.. and I bought stuff while there and supported the park, which I guess, has "a crucial role in preserving wildlife and educating people..."

As for a closer look at the intersection of human and animal, last week also saw the killing of yet another mountain lion, some fifteen minutes from my town. The local rancher saw the large cat under his horse trailer, called the game warden and the cops, and the next time she moved, she was dead. I tried to debate this with my dad on the drive home from town the other day-- whether or not it was ok for us to kill the cats when we are the ones in their territory--and he said "Marcella, you wouldn't want it around here attacking you when you get home in the night, or eating Sherman (the dog). I grew up in harsh times. If a calf was sick, you killed it. If a mountain lion attacked, you killed it. Now, people get in trouble for that kind of stuff becuase they're being abusive to animals. Well, animals like that have no need to be around."

On the one hand, he was right. I don't want to get attacked by a huge cat in the middle of the night. And I didn' t ask to be born here, to be put upon this land. But I am here, so now I have to make as much of an effort to get along with what's here as I can, right? In a world that is increasingly human (I think I read a similar phrase in one of my writings for school last week?), how do I, we you, do that and save both animal and man?