even
environmental cues, like opening a door or turning on lights. Keiko did not know any
audible or other forms of S d . The vast majority of his learned repertoire was based on hand signals.
Behavior is a science; the application of behavioral modification (or training) is
equally exacting. Among the many tenants of this practice, a trainer should not provide
a signal or S d asking for a response that he cannot reinforce or does not intend to reinforce. At
the end of training sessions with Keiko, the staff would signal to Keiko that they
were finished. It was the same signal that I had seen Stephen use. By giving Keiko
a signal that they were “breaking” from the session (or ending the session) Keiko’s
caretakers presented an S-delta, a signal that indicates reinforcement is no longer
available. In fact, theoretically, the signal itself becomes negative because it communicates
to Keiko, “I’m leaving you now and taking my reinforcement with me.” To Keiko’s trainers
it was a courteous, simple communication. To Keiko, it set the stage for frustration.
Think of a toddler when he first recognizes the cues that Mom is leaving.
Schedules can also lend themselves to aggravation. If a session schedule is so routine
that it becomes predictable, added to a “breaking” signal (delta), frustration can,
and eventually will, escalate to its close neighbor, aggression.
There were many signs that Keiko’s training stemmed from trainers with a background
of pseudo-behavioral experience. These trainers, great of heart and talented in areas,
never understood the science of behavioral modification, but rather, had techniques
passed down to them through the school of hard knocks.
Another misguided construct involved that of the “innovative” behavior. This was a
signal that was given to Keiko, and in response he could do (was supposed to do) whatever
he wanted. The only requirement was that he could not do the same behavior twice in
a row. Each time, he had to do something unique in order to receive reinforcement.
They believed this was a fun interaction; that it stimulated Keiko to be creative
and independent. In reality, it was yet another gray area of confusion for Keiko:
no clear criteria, no clear direction and no consistency in the result. Spontaneity
has its place in life, but not as a trained behavior. The two are mutually exclusive.
The “innovative” was only the tip of the proverbialiceberg. In fact, most of Keiko’s training interactions were, to borrow from Douglas
Adams, “somewhat similar to but totally unlike” behavioral modification, leaving in
their wake a host of aberrant and self-destructive habits in Keiko.
Years ago, as an up-and-coming trainer in the SeaWorld system, I was requested to
appear at the office of the curator of Animal Training, Thad Lacinak. That particular
day, Thad was perturbed by some stupid mistakes made by trainers which he had witnessed
during a show; mistakes that he saw as creating confusion in the whales. A trend of
confusion quickly leads to frustration, a predecessor of aggression. Unless corrected,
this pattern of mistakes would ultimately get someone hurt. As one of the few “waterwork”
trainers (trainers approved to be in the water with the whales), he challenged me
with a simple question: “What happens if you bridge a behavior, the animal ignores
the bridge, and you bridge again?” He was talking specifically about killer whales.
At six foot three, Thad was an imposing boss. Adding intensity to his question, his
normally pensive expression was painted with stern urgency while he awaited an answer.
The whistle bridge asks the whale to stop what it is doing and return to the trainer
for reinforcement. Killer whales are top predators. Their hearing, eyesight and sonar
abilities combine to make them the most aware animals I have ever been around. If
a whistle bridge is blown,
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