Jen Brook

I consider myself an artist trapped inside the body of one who cannot instead, I model...

Thanks, but NO Tanks

I’m actually shaking right now knowing that a few days ago, I witnessed a handful of Japanese fisherman push a pod of Risso’s dolphins towards shallow water, slaughter the adults, take one juvenile for captivity and then guide the five babies back out into the ocean alone in the same manner they were driven into the cove. Perhaps like taking your toddler into the woods and leaving him/her there to fend for themselves. Why did they do this? Because the start of the 2014-2015 annual drive hunt in Taiji has begun and these babies were too small for quota.

Right now…right this very second that you are reading this, a pod of 20-25 short finned pilot whales are currently being held in the cove. Two have already been torn away for sale in captivity, whilst the others are awaiting their fate. You can see them in the nets right now on the livestream here having been taken from the wild last night. 

On the first day of September through to the first day of March, thirteen banger boats will set out each morning to the horizon and return with the first pod of wild dolphins that they find. This will happen once, sometimes twice a day, for the next six months. 

Boats in formation having found a pod, photograph courtesy of The Sea Shepherds


Once the pod have been found, they are frightened towards the shallows by forming a strong line of boats banging on large metal poles in the water (creating sound wave vibrations through the water to prevent communication). Then they will then be netted into the cove and examined by workers from the the three dolphinariums in Taiji - Hotel Dolphin Resort, Dolphin Base and Taiji Whale Museum (please feel free to leave them your ratings on travel websites). This is the dolphins first ever interaction with a human as they select the youngest and most beautiful for captivity. The rest are then slaughtered in the water. 

The thrashing of tied tails on the surface and the sound of motor boats whirring echo around the cliff tops during the live streaming each morning…and all we can do is sit and watch silently. The Sea Shepherd Cove Guardians spend every day for six months on the ground in Taiji, reporting on every dolphin who enters the cove so that we might know the truth under the tarpaulins. Their hands are tied to legally prevent the captures in the moment, but they can document it all to the world and there are things we can do from home to bring it to an end. 

Last January, you may recall my blog as I watched the largest pods ever recorded pushed into the cove via the Sea Shepherd livestream. Five individual families forming 250+ bottlenoses were driven towards the shore, split into four netted sections and left for a total of five days in fear without food whilst selections were made for captivity.

A total of 52 captivations and 41 accountable deaths were made whilst approximately 130-140 (deemed too small for quota) were driven back out to sea by the banger boats. Exhausted, starved and witness to an onslaught of murder to their relatives, many washed up to shore dead just a few days later, unable to survive on their own. 

One of the most infamous captives was named Angel by onlookers, an albino calf torn from the wild, currently residing in a concrete tank in the Taiji Whale Museum and showing distressing signs of depression and mental illness; swimming in strange patterns and behaving unusually. The baby’s unique appearance went viral around the globe when her abduction became public knowledge. Her grieving mother was seen repeatedly spy hopping (lifting her head out of the water) desperately seeking her calf, until she disappeared below the surface never to reappear again when a metal pole was rammed in her spine. Like many albinos, Angel is likely to be deaf and/or blind which explains why she was clinging so closely to her mother during the capture where family bonds are strong amongst dolphins. 

Angel then (image captured during the 17th January 2014 drive hunt): 


Angel now (tanked in Taiji Whale Museum):


Between September 2013 and March 2014, a total of 1451 dolphins, porpoises and small whales entered the cove through the drive hunt of which 835 were slaughtered, 158 went into captivity and 457 were released for being too small.

The hunt season is not traditional, despite what the fisherman say. Having only started in 1969 and with several other Japanese towns (Iki Island and Futo) abandoning their part in the slaughter, there is no excuse for Taiji to continue with the reasoning that the world is against their ‘culture’.

Captives are still being taken for entertainment attractions because of their short life expectancy - a wild dolphin lives up to 40 years, but a captive dolphin lives for just 15 (with at least 50% of those dying in less than seven years through chlorine poisoning, disease and stress related illnesses). 


Every single non-rescue dolphin in captivity is linked to that small beach in Taiji. Please bear this in mind when ticking the boxes off your bucket list to swim with dolphins and hold onto to their fin. You may be told that the dolphin you see was born in that pool, but where did its mother come from and how did she become pregnant? Artificial insemination is a near guarantee and the bloodline linked to the cove is a certainty. Do you trust that ‘rescue’ myth?

The story of Angel is currently being told as a ‘rescue crusade of an albino calf’ by her trainers; yet there is no reason why she could not have continued to survive in the wild. Migaloo the all white humpback whale is quite the celebrity in Australia and continues to migrate each year up the East coast, having first being sighted in 1991 and believed to be currently 28 years old. 

To swim with captive dolphins is the exploitation of a once wild animal and feeding a diabolical trade. The more we do it, the more we encourage it. I cannot wait for the day that this activity is knocked off the traditional bucket list and people become a little more creative with their dreams. My eyes were only opened this January and having swum with captive dolphins myself, I was shocked and appalled that I’d been blinded for so long.

I saved my money for this opportunity to be special but I knew when I heard the orcas calling, that it wasn’t right. Migrating animals are born to travel, imagine being housebound for the rest of your life alone. I’ve made my mistakes, but now I can see and I have a responsibility to tell others the facts. Many cove guardians are ex-dolphin trainers, so there’s no shame in learning and re-educating yourself to help others. 


I do not support SeaWorld. I do not support dolphinariums and whale capture worldwide - an orcas dorsal fin is not supposed to flop over like that, no matter what they might tell you. You know this. 

What can you do? Click here

Show your support and let your voice be heard, do not buy a ticket to these places and tell your kids why you won’t go. When the seas die, the rest of us will too and it’s up to the next generation to know this. I have faith in my generation to support the Cove Guardians and insist that the next generation are urban exploring empty tanks in the not too distant future not visiting full tanks of these creatures we’re still stealing from the wild. 

So thanks…but no tanks. 


** Follow me on Facebook at and Twitter @Jen_Brook_Model & my website **   

Old Haunts

Ghosts of the past will forever haunt souls, until they become like the present. With this in mind, on Saturday I went back to a place I’d called home.  


It’s been seventeen months since my engagement ended and I let go of the old life I was living. I guess it feels longer. Maybe because I (and I assume he) have changed so much in that year. Who knows? We’ve both moved on stupendously separately; learning to love somebody else, learning to live like somebody else and now both of us happy in new relationships. You know the story, you were there for the journey…and now we all know that it worked out for the best. 

Saturday 13th September 2014: 

Two tigers born at Blackpool Zoo!" the media reported this summer. Having never seen rusty coloured striped cubs, the thirteen week old babies were too much of a temptation for me to miss. So for the millionth time or more in my lifetime, I found myself driving across the M55 to his the zoo not alone. 

Back then he (you remember ‘he’ right? It’s been a while, I know) had worked for the sales and PR team, meaning I’ve never paid for entry before. By 6pm I’d have finished work in town and then waited by the sealions whilst he packed up his desk, or I’d sit with the lemurs who were lunching. We’d even travelled the world with a small slip of headed paper requesting permission for free passes in almost every sanctuary we globally encountered - this is not an employee entitlement and sometimes we’d be refused. But more often than not, it would work and we’d save a few dollars on our trip. Cheeky? Yes. Young starving students?…Yes yes. Would I still do it now?…Probably. 

('Sanctuary'…interestingly, a curious choice of word I have chosen. Perhaps one of my own inner battles questioning my undetermined love or loathe of zoological parks making itself known, attempting to justify my enjoyment - a cage for the undeserved, or a safe enclosure for the endangered used educationally. My heart still remains undecided.)

So I went to the zoo this weekend and I visited my old ghosts of the past. Of course he wasn’t there. He hasn’t been there for some time actually, moving on to pastures new working in video production and such, so I hear. But his presence certainly lingered at the opening. Stood queuing to purchase a ticket was unfamiliar, yet being there was like going home. 

I don’t quite know what it was that I felt whilst I was waiting - whether I liked it or hated it, or even why I was feeling anything at all. I still can’t seem to find the right words to describe it. But there was an unusual buzz in the achievement; I’d gone back with my new clear head held high, a new life on my shoulders and a new perfect man by my side. The start of a new chapter in my book, as I paid for my new path with a twenty. 

As I walked through the doors of my former life, Darwin the immortal giant tortoise like an old friend there to greet me, faces I recognised watching and staff exits I’d once walked through still swinging…I wondered if perhaps I shouldn’t have gone. Is a year and a half too early to go home, or will forever be always too soon? 

Waiting to go Home


Photographer: Elegia. Shot on expired 100 PX silver shade. 

Footnote to myself: be glad you went back. You had the best time and it was only peculiar for five minutes. Mini challenges for mighty victories make. Remember forever, you had a great day and now nothing can stand in your way. 

** Follow me on Facebook at and Twitter @Jen_Brook_Model & my website **