To Pet Or Not To Pet?

We homo sapiens are easily flattered. We like dolphins because they seem to like us. They smile--or rather, their mouths curve upward in an illusion of cheeriness--and we feel the urge to touch, to pet, to be nearer. It hardly registers that dolphins smile even when they have nothing to be happy about.

Luna died smiling. The bottle-nosed dolphin was captured last December off the southwest coast of Baja California. For two hours, she traveled in a coffin-like trailer with virtually no water. When she arrived at her destination, an aquarium at La Concha Beach Resort in La Paz, Mexico, she was carried in a makeshift hammock and deposited on a sandy beach. She tried to bite her handlers, but her protest went unheeded. She was forced to frolic and swim with tourists in a pen. After five weeks, she died--from stomach inflammation and ulcers caused by stress, according to the autopsy report. A leading Mexican environmental organization, the Group of One Hundred, is pressing for the release of Luna's seven traveling companions. "These dolphins are overworked and in horrible conditions," says Homero Aridjis, a poet who is the organization's president. "This is dolphin-napping."

Many tourists would be horrified at the thought. A growing number of them are getting a natural high by bonding with these seagoing mammals in aquatic parks both in and outside the U.S. In 18 national programs, visitors can pay up to $150 to hop into the pool for a half-hour "swim-with" the dolphins. These U.S. programs generally treat their featured attractions well: dolphins are no longer captured in the wild, and there are guidelines to limit the mammal's workday (no more than two hours) and office space (a sanctuary away from humans is required).

But such standards are less likely to be followed in parks outside the U.S. In Cuba, the source for many of the dolphins that end up in Caribbean aquariums, a fisherman can earn more than a year's income by selling a wild dolphin on the black market for about $800. Once trained, that same dolphin can fetch $1,500 a day at a Caribbean park. Several cases have been reported of dolphins suffering from stress, chlorine toxicity or an overdose of human affection. "Dolphins don't just drop out of the sky and end up in tanks," says Gwen McKenna, an activist in Ontario, Canada, who seeks to eradicate swim-withs. "They are literally being mauled by humans all day long. These tanks are death traps for them."

At Manati Park in the Dominican Republic, one of the world's most controversial facilities, techno music blares from two large speakers as five dolphins bounce balls and beach themselves on concrete for $7 photo ops. Then the contact sport begins. To the strains of a Celine Dion ballad, a girl douses her hands and feet in disinfectant and grabs hold of dolphin Vicki's pectoral fins. Vicki pulls her passenger along the length of the 10-yd. by 17-yd. pool and returns to the trainer for a reward--two pieces of fish. Vicki then swims up to a group of six swimmers for some petting. The entire session costs $65. "It was a marvelous experience," said Michelle Loeffler, a dance teacher from Peoria, Ill. "But I felt bad they have only that little pool to swim in." Said another tourist: "I don't like the idea of circuses, but this seemed like a nice way to meet the dolphin."