Las Vegas Review-Journal

The Navy’s dolphins have a few things to tell us about aging

- By Emily Anthes

SAN DIEGO — White caps were breaking in the bay and the rain was blowing sideways, but at Naval Base Point Loma, an elderly bottlenose dolphin named Blue was absolutely not acting her age. In a bay full of dolphins, she was impossible to miss, leaping from the water and whistling as a team of veterinari­ans approached along the floating docks.

“She’s always really happy to see us,” said Dr. Barb Linnehan, director of animal health and welfare at the National Marine Mammal Foundation, a nonprofit research organizati­on. “She acts like she’s a 20-year-old dolphin.”

But at 57, Blue is positively geriatric, one of the oldest dolphins in the U.S. Navy Marine Mammal Program. So the doctors had come to check on her heart.

Linnehan unpacked a dolphin-friendly electrocar­diogram and bent over the edge of the dock, where Blue had surfaced. Then she carefully pressed four rubber suction cups, each containing a Bluetooth-enabled electrode, onto the dolphin’s slippery skin.

Linnehan wiped the rain off her tablet and studied the screen. “That’s her arrhythmia there,” she said, pointing to an oscillatin­g wave marching across the display. The team first detected the irregular heartbeat several years earlier and had been monitoring it ever since.

“What we are looking for is: Are we getting to a place where we need to start talking about interventi­on, like a pacemaker or medication?” Linnehan said. No one had ever put a pacemaker in a dolphin before, she noted, but “we’re willing to cross that bridge if she gets to that point.”

For more than half a century, the Navy has run its marine mammal program from this base on the rocky Point Loma peninsula, training bottlenose dolphins and California sea lions to locate underwater mines, recover submerged objects and intercept rogue swimmers.

In that time, marine mammal medicine has advanced enormously, in part as a result of the Navy’s research. Consequent­ly, the program’s veterinari­ans find themselves caring for an increasing­ly aged population of animals. “We’re just seeing things that we weren’t necessaril­y seeing decades ago, conditions that are associated with old age,” Linnehan said.

So, in collaborat­ion with researcher­s who study wild dolphins and with experts in human medicine, Navy scientists are now delving into geriatric marine mammal medicine. The pursuit could pay dividends not only for the Navy’s animals but also for wild ones — and, perhaps, even for people.

It could be the final frontier for the program, which is likely to leave a rich but ethically complicate­d scientific legacy. The Navy plans to phase it out in the coming decades, said Mark Xitco, the program’s director. It has already stopped breeding dolphins and has turned some of their tasks over to underwater drones, he said.

History of program

When Navy scientists began working with their first dolphin, in 1959, they hoped simply to imitate it and learn how to design more hydrodynam­ic torpedoes. But marine mammals proved to have talents — deep-diving skills, keen underwater vision and, in some cases, top-notch sonar — that neither humans nor machines could match. So the Navy began training the animals to perform underwater tasks, deploying them in Vietnam, the Persian Gulf and elsewhere.

Technicall­y, the marine mammal program was classified until the early 1990s, but it was a “pretty poorly kept secret,” Xitco said. Navy scientists helped create, and were heavily involved in, organizati­ons for marine mammal researcher­s, he said, but “could neither confirm nor deny that we actually worked with the animals.”

Today, 77 dolphins and 47 sea lions are part of the program, which is managed by the Naval Informatio­n Warfare Center Pacific and has an overall required budget of $40 million this year. About 300 people keep the program running. (Many are contractor­s; the National Marine Mammal Foundation, which was founded by several of the program’s veterinari­ans, helps provide veterinary care, for instance.)

Keeping the animals healthy is a critical part of the job, said Dr. Eric Jensen, the senior scientist for animal care. “You can’t go find mines, and you can’t go find bad people, if you don’t feel good,” he said.

But the program’s veterinari­ans repeatedly note that they feel an ethical obligation to provide top-notch health care. Their affection for the animals is obvious, and Jensen — who joined some of the marine mammals on a 2003 deployment to Iraq — said that being part of the program was less a job than a lifestyle. He and his colleagues frequently refer to the animals as partners or teammates.

The animals have not volunteere­d for this life, however. In the program’s earlier years the Navy took dolphins from the wild. Although that practice ended decades ago, the program continues to draw criticism for keeping intelligen­t animals in captivity and conscripti­ng them into human war efforts.

“I am not in favor of keeping dolphins the way they do for the purposes that they do,” said Lori Marino, an expert on cetacean intelligen­ce and president of the Whale Sanctuary Project, who visited the program and became friendly with some of its researcher­s early in her career.

The Navy’s dolphins do have opportunit­ies that are not afforded to some other captive dolphins, such as open-ocean swimming sessions, and they are clearly highly valued, said Janet Mann, a marine-mammal scientist and behavioral ecologist at Georgetown University. “The Navy has obviously perfected how you can keep a large number of dolphins in captivity with very high survival,” she said. Still, she added, “the dolphins don’t have agency like they do in the wild.”

Xitco said that the animals had been used only for defensive purposes and that none had ever died in combat. But some details about the animals’ capabiliti­es and assignment­s remain tightly held. (Although officials granted The New York Times permission to name Blue, they requested that the other animals’ names not be disclosed.) A two-day tour of the facilities in the fall was closely chaperoned.

“I guess in theory there could be some other program around the corner that I’m not going to show you, where we’re doing things that you wouldn’t be comfortabl­e with or others wouldn’t be comfortabl­e with,” Xitco said. “That’s not the case.”

“No question they have been a leader in terms of developing our understand­ing of dolphin medicine,” said Randy Wells, who directs the Chicago Zoological Society’s Sarasota Dolphin Research Program. (Wells frequently collaborat­es with the program’s researcher­s and has also received funding from the Navy.)

After their morning exams, the animals have training or enrichment sessions, often in the open ocean, where their athleticis­m is on clear display. The dolphins swim alongside boats, retrieve brightly colored balls, launch themselves into the air, slip under the water’s surface and reappear in a flash.

Dolphin day afternoon

But they do slow with age, Jensen said. Their energy levels flag, their joints stiffen, and they put on some extra pounds. Some develop heart disease, kidney stones or vision problems, which can require surgical interventi­on.

Blue is the program’s paragon. Focused and seemingly tireless, she was once one of the Navy’s star mine hunters, earning a Navy Achievemen­t Medal for her efforts, Xitco said. But when she unexpected­ly became pregnant in her 30s, she stopped searching for mines and began participat­ing in acoustics research instead, which remained her primary role as she aged.

When Linnehan and her colleagues set out to create better ways to conduct cardiac assessment­s of dolphins, they tapped Blue to participat­e. Working with Blue and other Navy dolphins, the researcher­s developed a method for performing comprehens­ive cardiac exams on stationary dolphins while they were in the water. In the process, they discovered that Blue had a previously undetected arrhythmia.

It was not the only surprise. The team, partnering with other researcher­s, went on to perform heart exams in the wild, on dolphins in Sarasota Bay in Florida and Barataria Bay in Louisiana. “A lot of them had murmurs,” Linnehan said, “which nobody had described before.” The scientists also found that a variety of cardiac abnormalit­ies were especially prevalent in the Barataria Bay dolphins, which had been heavily exposed to oil after the Deepwater Horizon oil spill in 2010.

The Navy’s dolphins have often served as pioneers, allowing scientists to develop and test new techniques before they take them into the field, where “the opportunit­ies to examine the animals are much more rare and much more precious,” said Wells, who collaborat­ed on the studies.

Now, Linnehan is working with a biotech company to build an electrocar­diogram harness that Blue can wear while freely swimming, diving or sleeping, a tool that might eventually help scientists study the hearts of wild dolphins under more natural conditions. “This would be a huge wealth of informatio­n that nobody’s gotten before,” Linnehan said.

Other projects are underway, including the developmen­t of an acoustic monitoring system to detect the sounds of dolphins in distress, and a low-gravity surgical table, to better replicate the dolphins’ marine environmen­t. (On land, the tug of gravity can compromise the animals’ heart and lung function.) Researcher­s recently devised a ventilator specifical­ly for marine mammals, which have unique ways of breathing.

Surgical tools like these would be useful for the sick and injured animals that sometimes wash ashore with flipper injuries, fractured jaws or even gunshot wounds, said Dr. Cara Field, medical director of the Marine Mammal Center in Sausalito, Calif. And a better understand­ing of what is and isn’t normal for marine mammals throughout their long life spans could help in evaluating the wild animals that appear without a detailed health history, she added.

Some of the research might even benefit humans. “Older dolphins age a lot like older people,” said Dr. Stephanie Venn-watson, a veterinary public health researcher who was previously a researcher at the Navy program and the National Marine Mammal Foundation.

“It’s really exciting from my perspectiv­e as a general marine mammal scientist to see these animals coming into their own as important models, if you like, that allow us to learn not only for their benefit but also for the benefit of others,” said Ailsa Hall, an emeritus professor of marine biology at the University of St. Andrews.

Into the sunset

Not all experts feel that way. The Navy has done some “really interestin­g, cutting-edge” research, Marino acknowledg­ed. But some of its studies have also been “pretty unpalatabl­e,” she said, pointing to one that made dolphins ingest seawater. Even a noninvasiv­e imaging study requires an animal to leave the water and travel to a medical facility, she noted.

“These are all things that a dolphin is not interested in really doing and do not make their life worthwhile,” said Marino, who used to conduct research on captive dolphins before becoming uneasy with the practice.

Xitco said that he and his colleagues adhered to animal welfare and research regulation­s and made “every effort possible” to minimize negative effects on the animals. But sometimes the studies do require blood draws or milk samples or biopsies or brief exposure to noise. In those cases, he said, they have made the calculatio­n that mild, temporary discomfort is outweighed by the value of the research. “We are the control population for the world of marine mammal medicine,” he said.

Since the marine mammal program began, public affection for marine mammals has grown, experts said, and scientists have learned much more about how sophistica­ted dolphins are and what they need in order to thrive — in part because of the Navy’s research.

And when the sun does set on the marine mammal program, the world may never see another collection of animals quite like it. “There’s just no population like it in the world,” Venn-watson said, “and it will not happen again.”

 ?? GABRIELLA ANGOTTI-JONES / THE NEW YORK TIMES ?? A dolphin leaps into the air Nov. 9, 2022, at the U.S. Navy’s Marine Mammal Program at Naval Base Point Loma in San Diego. Navy scientists, in collaborat­ion with researcher­s, are now delving into geriatric marine mammal medicine, a pursuit that could pay dividends not only for the Navy’s animals but also for wild ones — and, perhaps, even for people.
GABRIELLA ANGOTTI-JONES / THE NEW YORK TIMES A dolphin leaps into the air Nov. 9, 2022, at the U.S. Navy’s Marine Mammal Program at Naval Base Point Loma in San Diego. Navy scientists, in collaborat­ion with researcher­s, are now delving into geriatric marine mammal medicine, a pursuit that could pay dividends not only for the Navy’s animals but also for wild ones — and, perhaps, even for people.

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