We must be good stewards for this state's creatures

Thirty years ago, my wife and I witnessed a gruesome spectacle that turned out to be the last of its kind in our country. While sailing with friends in Puget Sound, we watched an airplane and chase boats harass and corral a group of orcas into a net less than a mile from our state capital. Orcas that tried to escape were hazed with explosives.

We were all so shocked and moved by the whales' plight that I persuaded my boss, then-Gov. Dan Evans, and former state Attorney General Slade Gorton to sue our own game officials for failing to enforce a permit that barred chasing and harassing the whales. We won. It was the last whale capture in America.

Last month, I celebrated a more-bittersweet victory: the protection of our state's resident orcas under the Endangered Species Act. Bittersweet because after recovering from years of live captures, these magnificent creatures are now threatened by a host of other problems: toxins and other pollution; the threat of oil spills; and the decline of salmon runs, a staple food source for orcas.

Bittersweet because this year, Congress may weaken the Endangered Species Act. The official recovery of gray whales, which cruise Washington's coastline, is a great success story. The same is true for our American symbol, the bald eagle. But salmon and other Northwest species still need the vital safety net the Endangered Species Act provides, as do countless other imperiled creatures across America.

The Endangered Species Act is important to people not only because it asks that we be good stewards but because it prompts us to change for the better in the face of challenging new circumstances. If I've learned anything from the orca saga, it's that we can make a wholesale change in our perspectives and be better for it.

When we started fighting for orcas in the 1970s, about 20 percent of the public was behind us, 20 percent of the public was against us and 60 percent couldn't have cared less. After all, these were called killer whales.

We now know they pose no threat to humans. Moreover, our orcas have become regional icons, symbols of the Northwest's natural bounty and admired for their social networks, intelligence and awe-inspiring athleticism. Thousands of people see this every summer as the orcas patrol our inland waters mostly around the San Juan and Gulf islands. In winter, as they migrate to new feeding grounds, they are seen in the Seattle, Tacoma and Bremerton harbors.

The orcas are no different than they were 30 years ago, but we've changed in our ability to appreciate them. I've also seen attitudes change toward the waters the orcas call home. When I was growing up on Bainbridge Island, we thought nothing of tossing our garbage into a nearby bay. The ferry boats would dump the previous day's trash overboard on the 2 a.m. run. Now, when my wife and I cruise around the Sound each summer, we can't even find a beer can or pop bottle floating in the water. We have all learned to keep Puget Sound clean.

By learning to change, we're reaping a huge benefit — a regional love affair with a beautiful creature and the place it calls home. Orcas are the most magnificent species in our state. It's easy to see why our local Native American tribes respected them so much. And there comes a time when you just have to say, "hands off."

We need healthy beaches, clean water and strongsalmon runs — all ingredients needed for the orcas, and us, to thrive. Thanks to the Endangered Species Act, as well as strict state laws, we can protect wonderful creatures like orcas and guarantee to our grandchildren the chance to appreciate these and other magnificent creatures in years to come.

Ralph Munro served as Washington's Republican secretary of state from 1981 to 2001. He and his wife, Karen, were among the plaintiffs in a 2002 federal lawsuit that led to the listing of Puget Sound resident orcas under the Endangered Species Act.