A Spiritual Connection

My beautiful best friend, Orca Venus

The beautiful giant of the sea came up to the side of the boat. I put my hand down and placed it on her nose. She blew air out. Venus was a 15-year-old Orca who had her first calf one year ago.

She nudged my hand like she always did when she wanted to play. I took my water bottle off the floor and squirted her gently in the face. This was our ritual when we met. I had been studying the pod for the last four years. Over that time, trust had been built up, and the game had begun.

Three years ago, as Venus approached me, I accidentally squirted water from my bottle on her. She had come back for more, and so our greeting started.

The other orcas were a little shy, but not Venus. She had no fear of humans. We had tried to follow her story to find out if she was a released Orca, but we hit a dead end. Her dorsal fin was standing up, a curved fin being a classic sign of captivity. We didn’t know; for whatever reason, Venus and I had a bond.

When her calf was born, I watched from a distance on the boat. I wondered if this would change our relationship. It hadn’t. She always kept herself between me and the calf, but our friendship remained the same.

She nudged my hand again, and I squirted her with the bottle. Looking her straight in the eye was like looking into a deep intelligence.

“What’s up, girl? You feeling a bit under the weather.” I asked.

Venus nudged my hand again. The bottle was empty, but she settled for a nose rub.

Venus had been showing signs of being unwell for the last two weeks. She wasn’t looking after her calf as much. For the last couple of days, she had been on close monitoring. She was unwell, swimming behind her pod. I swore when I looked at her, there was a sadness in her eyes. This beautiful black and white creature was suffering.

While I kept her calm, Sam, the vet, administered an antibiotic shot to try to help. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

“I’m sure this will do the trick. Try not to worry.”

Saying goodbye to my beautiful girl, I promised to bring a full bottle to play with her tomorrow. We moved the boat away from the pod and headed for shore. I followed the silhouette of my girl for as long as I could.

Karl woke me early the next morning. There had been an incident with Venus. Sam was on his way, but they needed me to keep her calm. Grabbing yesterday’s clothes, I threw them on and raced down the path to Karl’s jeep. As we turned out of the drive I realised we weren’t heading to the marine, but to the beach.

We drove in silence. I didn’t trust myself to speak. Ten minutes later, Karl explained that they had a call from a local. Venus had been grounded on the beach. With my help, they were sure they could get her back into the water.

I rushed down to the beach. I only remembered I had no water bottle when I tripped over three left discarded on the shore. Still, I’m sure my girl would forgive me this once.

When I reached Venus, Sam was finishing his examination. Locals had a constant train of water keeping her moist. I threw myself to my knees beside her and looked into those beautiful eyes.

“Hey girl, what’s going on?” I asked.

She looked back at me, staring into my soul. Nudging my hand, she took her final breath and died on the beach.

I only remember sections of the rest of the day. I remember Sam and Karl getting me back to the jeep. I remember Karl giving me a tiny blue pill, and I woke up the next day.

That day, the pain was more intense. I knew I should go and check on her pod, but I didn’t have the strength. At 5 pm, Karl rang to see if I wanted to go and get the autopsy results with him. We once again drove in silence.

When we arrived, we went into the marine room. Sam hugged me. With tears in his eyes, he handed me two black sacks of empty bottles and rubbish. I’m sorry, Jen, but this is what we found in her stomach; she didn’t stand a chance, I’m afraid. Human laziness and ignorance had killed this beautiful sea creature.

I knew then that if Venus had eaten rubbish, the rest of the pod were in danger, especially her calf. At first light the next day, I was back in the boat heading out to find them.

We found them within an hour. Sam checked them all over, and they appeared to be okay. We would have to watch them closely for the next couple of months. Then, as we were leaving, her calf came to me and nudged my hand. I smiled and reached for my bottle to squirt him. Looking at the bottle in my hand, I put it down.

“No, fella, I think it’s best you have no interest in these,” I told him, stroking his nose.

We were lucky he was now one; with the proper monitoring, he should survive without his mum.

That night, I sat with Karl, writing up my notes. We talked about the bond that Venus had with me.

“Jen, it was special. I have worked with Orca for many years and not seen a connection like that,” he said.

I smiled when I thought about my sweet sea angel. It was only when I wrote the date for my observation that it hit me. No, it can’t be that late in the month already.

“Karl, I think I know why we had a connection.” I said, “I think she sensed we were both mothers.”

Karl looked at me, rubbing my stomach, and lunged off the sofa. Sweeping me up in his arms.

“If it’s a girl, we can call her Venus,” he chuckled.