Babysitting

I did some babysitting as a teenager but none of that prepared me for the biggest and most unusual babysitting job of my life.

This job took place in 2000 while we were living in Key West.

We read in the local paper that an orphaned Pygmy Sperm Whale, about 6 to 8 months old and four feet long, had beached itself on the shores of Key West. This occurred on June 21st, the Summer Solstice, so they named the calf Summer.

Summer was injured and had a ruptured sinus, so that made her a questionable candidate for release back into the wild. Summer was also malnourished and dehydrated. She would need around-the-clock care until she was strong enough to move to a permanent home elsewhere. She was being held in a little lagoon that was closed off by an underwater fence.

People were being asked to sign-up for a two-hour shifts to help babysit Summer. I was toying with the idea of helping when The Colonel said, "Go ahead and do it. When will you ever have an opportunity like this again?"

I signed-up. I would be babysitting on the 26th at around 8 AM.

On the surface (no pun intended), the babysitting job seemed easy enough. My babysitting buddy and I, relieving the two previous sitters, had to get into the water with Summer and support her in our arms as we slowly walked around the lagoon. We had to make sure her blowhole never went under water and make sure she didn't eat any of the sea grass floating around (we had little hand nets to scoop the sea grass up and away). Summer's dorsal fin was injured and bleeding, so we also had to keep her back and fin wet by spraying them with ice water.

A gastric sample had to be taken from Summer while I was babysitting. I had to hold the receptacle, as well as Summer, as someone siphoned some of Summer's stomach contents out with a long tube. I recall the sample had a fishy smell to it. After the sample was taken, Summer was fed unflavored Pedialyte through a feeding tube as my babysitting buddy and I held her.

This is a picture of Summer with two other volunteers.

Even with the water helping to keep Summer buoyant, supporting her for two and a half hours put a slight strain on the upper body. That evening I went to bed a little sore and very tired.

Summer was a good baby, she didn't thrash or squirm too much. She would flap her tail fluke now and then and want to turn this way and that. She would also try to snap at the sea grass around her. You know babies, always putting things in their mouths.

Babysitting Summer wasn't a paying gig, but I walked away that day wealthier in other ways for having had the experience.

I will never forget the feel of Summer's weight in my arms and how I could feel her heartbeat as I held her or the texture of her skin, it was like the feel of a wet inner tube. Her skin was the color of an old inner tube, grayish-black, but her belly was pink. It was great to be able to help when it was needed and to be that close to a whale, even a little one.

With the help of other volunteers Summer became stronger and healthier. It was reported that she was gaining a pound a day. She eventually was able to swim more on her own. Her new found strength and ability would play part in her untimely death on November 1, 2000.

Summer had lived longer than most of her species that become stranded. She survived for 133 days. On the day she died, volunteers said she was swimming strongly and dove but failed to surface. They searched the lagoon and found her unresponsive. A vet who was the director of Summer's care and later her necropsy said she did not drown, but was asphyxiated. She had gotten caught in the under water fencing. At the time of her death she was completely healthy.

When I learned of it, I was saddened by the news of Summer's death.

The Colonel was right...I haven't had another experience like babysitting Summer the orphaned Pygmy Sperm Whale since.