The Cove opened on August 7.

The Cove is a documentary like no other I have seen. Like other such films, it aims to inform viewers of an issue or species, but unlike others, it also hopes to use its creative powers to send you sailing out of your seat screaming, “Get out of my way, I want to help!” I knew this already, as I attended the premier of the film in San Francisco last Friday, and wondered if it would work for me, a Conservation Manager who has seen many, many movies about the plights of animals.

So, I sat back, marveled at the audience rich with environmental leaders, munched my popcorn, and proceeded to have my world rocked. The Cove is indeed a nature and conservation movie, but throw in spy movie, hero movie, horror movie and action flick and you have a more accurate description.

The main character is Ric O’Barry, the original trainer for Flipper the bottlenose dolphin, TV star of the 70’s. Ric believes it was partly his doing that brought the world to love these marine mammals too much, leading to their exploitation. He is determined to help a tragically suffering population of dolphins in one cove in Japan. As we are introduced to the issues, we feel Ric’s pain, and his quiet hopefulness. He longs to reveal to the world the truth about this cove and we long for his success.

And then, somehow, it gets fun.

Ric enlists friends. Talented friends. Lots of them. Louie Psihoyos is one of them. Master photographer and nature documentarian, he and his group, the Ocean Preservation Society (OPS), take on the job of movie making, though they have never done such a thing before. "We’re all professionals", they joke, "just not at this." Louie steps up as Film Director and seeks out other adventuresome teammates. On board jumps an Expedition Director, as well as a Head of Clandestine Operations, giving me a serious case of job title envy. Throw in two world-class free divers, a DNA scientist and various mold makers from Industrial Light and Magic’s Prop Shop, cue the thriller music, and the game is on.

As we, the audience, experience the thrill of their journey to covertly make the film, we are amazed by their courage, compassion and humor and are reminded that humans can be phenomenally brave, powerful and imaginative. We are schooled in the reality of certain industries and asked to make entertainment and recreation choices with knowledge and compassion. We are awoken to the fact that dolphins are likely more wonderful and fantastical than we ever dreamed and it is simply a privilege to live on this planet with them.

At the very end, the film offers the audience ideas of how we each can help. It invites us to climb aboard their ship of dreamers and change-makers, and exposes the media’s greatest strength; the power to inspire change for the better.

As the credits rolled, the free dolphins soared through the clear water and the Wallflowers brought us home with “I want to swim, like dolphins can swim…” My heart pounded, my eyes teared-up and my hands clenched into fists. I think I ran over three environmental leaders as I busted into the hallway screaming “Get out of my way, I want to help!” I guess it worked for me.

See if it works for you.

On July 16th, my Mom and I left San Francisco by boat to tour the Southeast coastal islands of Alaska. I have been hearing stories about the untamed Alaska since I was a small child. My mom lived in Kodiak as a girl. Her father and my grandfather had his last tour of Naval duty on Kodiak. His assignment was to survey the numbers of Kodiak bears for the sake of conservation. So I was more than eager to see the wildness and wildlife of Alaska.

While at sea, I've seen common Alaskan wildlife. Humpbacks have spouted and breached, raven and eagles have dived at the water for a dinner of spawning salmon. But I keep looking at the water, hoping to glimpse Orcas. The next opportunity to do so will be tomorrow coming out of the port of Victoria, British Columbia. Orcas, or killer whales as they are commonly known, are not whales at all. They are the largest species of the dolphin family and they are prominent along the Southeast islands of Alaska. They have captured the spirit of natives in these lands. They are alive in their legends and are carved into totem poles that are being preserved in the towns and museums along the coast. Both the native people here and Orcas form matriarchal societies and many native people believe that members of their tribe are reincarnated as killer whales.

Resident Orcas are just one type of Killer Whale. Three groups of Orcas have been found to be genetically separate on the nuclear and mitochondrial DNA level here. Resident Orcas stay close to the shore of the Alaskan islands in herds of up to 200. They have strongly bonded familial ties and are the fisherman of the Orcas, as their diet consists only of fish. Transient Orcas, on the other hand, live also in groups of up to 200 but will split off for the sake of the hunt. They hunt small marine mammals and migrate a great deal more, going where they can find food. While residents have a small and predictable migration route, transients are harder to research because of an unpredictable migration route. Researchers in Alaska have been able to collect more data on resident pods because of their predictability. They identify each individual by their Saddle-patch, or the white markings adjacent to the dorsal fin. It is like a fingerprint, identifying individual Orcas. The third group of Orcas is even more elusive than the transient pods. They are known as the Offshore Orcas. They are known as the rogue of the species and have been very difficult to research because of their unpredictability and often solo migration.

I am most interested in Orcas because of the question of Orca culture. They are seen as very intelligent animals by Native tribes as well as researchers. There is a controversy in the scientific field if Orcas have culture. Traits of fishing or hunting seem to be passed down to offspring denoting learning and hence culture. However, the science community is still split on learning behavior. One story I heard while here paints them as creatures of learning and remorse. One sick Orca was found in a pod. Fisherman noticed the other pod-mates line up and the sick Orca went through the line giving attention to each pod member and then left the pod after what looked like "saying his goodbyes". Was this a goodbye ritual for sending off a dying pod-mate? Whether is was or not, such unusual behavior is well worth more research. Hopefully, I will be able to see some of their behavior myself before returning to San Francisco.