Sometimes, out of the blue, something wonderful happens.

As we were driving down the coast a few days ago, we noticed a crowd gathered near the edge of the ocean. Several cars were parked in the lot that led to a “vista point.” At first we just noticed, commented to each other, and continued on our way. And then, suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw them: hundreds of elephant sealsscattered all over the beach.

We made a quick U-turn and headed back. We were right. Hundreds of seals! What a sight! Seems late January, early February is the birthing season and the cows come onto shore to have their pups. Honestly, I haven’t seen that many bodies on the beach since summer holidays at Viareggio. Italians love to sun themselves, shoulder-to-shoulder with their closest friends, and apparently so do the elephant seals.

The seals were engaged in lots of different activities along that beach strewn with sandy blubber. Some were sparring with each other, practicing for real life in the ocean. Others were lovingly rolling around together and at times appeared to be smooching. Many of them lounging on the beach, used their flippers to toss cool sand onto their backs. A pup here and there nursed from some unidentifiable spigot somewhere on the mother’s rotund body. The combination of nursing, along with the sand flying through the air must have made for some pretty gritty seal milk. But the pups seemed happy with the scene for the most part. One occasionally barked and scrambled to get a little closer to “mama.” Mama was not impressed. She yawned, probably tuckered out from the long return trip and the birthing process.

A few bulls squared off to defend their territory, which I guess was the body-sized piece of beach on which they stood. They bellowed and postured. The big guys can sometimes weigh in at 5000 pounds. Every once in a while, one would “stand,” propped up with its front flippers and call out to . . . who knows? I was shocked to see how tall they could be when the stood up. Their noses rivaled Jimmy Durante in terms of schnozz-iness. But the most interesting thing was how quickly they moved. They were faster than greased lightening. Imagine—two and a half tons of seal muscle lunging into action. Posted signs warned visitors to stay clear of the beasts for that very reason. They could easily be on top of you within seconds chomping away bits with those powerful jaws.

But, I couldn’t help but wonder: How do they do it? I mean, how do they come back to the same stretch of beach, year after year? How do their instincts tell them the exact latitude and longitude? The obvious answer is that we aren’t the first animals to discover and use GPS. It was indeed miraculous to see, and mind-boggling to imagine.

We watched them for a while and then walked along the beach only to notice a stray seal nestled among the rocks. Same shape as the rock. Same color. Then there was another one. Then another. Those social strays could be easily overlooked, since they were camouflaged among the rocks. Wiggling their slug-like bodies across those jagged rocks has to be a pretty touchy activity, but they didn’t seem to be any worse for wear. It was truly a sight unlike any I’ve ever seen before and will never forget. They were beautiful . .  . and ugly . . . repulsive . . . and compelling all at the same time. With Valentine’s day only a week away, it was strangely romantic to see the seals cozied up on the beach. I guess love is sometimes blind—or maybe I should say that beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder. But still, there’s something sweet about fish-breath kisses.

Posted on February 19, 2011

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