The crisis of sick and malnourished sea lion pups stranding themselves on the beaches of Southern California continues, although many animals from the early rounds of strandings are now being released back to the ocean. The Marine Mammal Center in the Marin Headlands has been helping out the Southern California rescue hospitals, taking in many transferred patients. The Pacific Marine Mammal Center in Laguna Beach, the Santa Barbara Marine Mammal Center, and the Fort MacArthur Marine Mammal Care Center in San Pedro have all sent some of their sea lion and elephant seal patients to the Marin County facility.
Researchers from National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) Fisheries are still trying to determine the cause of the strandings, which numbered almost three times as high as the historical average this year. They are testing blood and tissues samples from both live and dead animals, looking for bacterial, viral, or other biotoxins. Necropsies are being conducted on dead animals, collecting and analyzing samples to gain as much insight as possible into the crisis.
Now it is time for many of the first patients to return to their natural habitat, healthy and happy. The Marine Mammal Center released 13 sea lion pups on May 21, on a quiet beach near Chimney Rock, in the Point Reyes National Seashore. Most of these animals were transferred from the Santa Barbara Marine Mammal Center several weeks ago, and have now gained enough weight and strength that they can fend for themselves in the ocean.
As a volunteer at The Marine Mammal Center, the most gratifying part of my work is to attend a release and watch healthy animals dash back into the ocean where they belong. A few weeks ago, there were more than 170 patients at The Marine Mammal Center, making my volunteer shift on the Friday Night Crew a long, backbreaking night of preparing fishy meals, cleaning pens and pools, and feeding the animals. Now things are almost back to normal, with just 17 sea lions, 36 elephant seals, one northern fur seal, one Guadalupe fur seal, and 39 harbor seals.
I arrived early at the small beach where the release was scheduled and found several dozen elephant seals lounging around, yawning, grunting, and scratching themselves without embarrassment. A truck and a van from The Marine Mammal Center arrived shortly thereafter and the crew began to unload herding boards. The beach had to be cleared of elephant seals before the sea lions could be released, a task that was carried out slowly and gently.
The sea lions were released in three groups, with the carriers placed in a row along the beach, about 50 feet from the surf. As the doors to the carriers were opened, the young pups peered out cautiously, wondering what was next in the wild adventure that had been their short lives so far. Several of them seemed to know that they were supposed to run toward the surf, while others hesitated and even tried to rush back into their carriers. A few elephant seals watched with amusement from out in the water, seemingly indignant that their peaceful repose had been disturbed for the benefit of these upstart sea lions.
The final group of sea lions seemed to understand what was happening, but the four of them stuck together, huddled up against each other as they stumbled down the beach. They eyed the two big elephant seals warily, the enormous beasts standing guard on either side of them. As they dove into the oncoming waves, one of the elephant seals turned to give them a push, a congratulatory welcome home. The sea lions then joyously jumped over the waves as they headed out across the bay.
After the sea lions swam away into the waves of Drake’s Bay, I hiked out to Chimney Rock, at the tip of the peninsula. After seeing a cycle of the natural processes complete itself, it was invigorating to walk out into the raw landscape of Point Reyes. The wind was blowing steadily throughout the afternoon and gusts were topping a speed of 50 miles per hour. At one point the trail came perilously close to a steep cliff, which afforded a view straight down to the beach, where more than 100 elephant seals slept peacefully, oblivious to the roar of the waves and the wind. A few signs marked “Unauthorized Trail” blocked some of the social trails that went out to the cliff’s edge, but on a day like this, the powerful winds were enough to keep me away from those dangerous precipices.
The trail runs along the ridge top, with Drake’s Bay on one side and the wild Pacific Ocean on the other. Fields of blue-eyed daisies, interspersed with California poppies, Douglas-iris, and the occasional Ithuriel’s spear add dramatic color to the vivid landscape. Yellow bush lupine stood out in striking contrast against the deep blue sky and the even deeper blue of Drake’s Bay. I stood out on the tip of the peninsula, staggering in the wind, looking out at the deep blue sea and imagining how many creatures were down there, just below the surface. It is amazing to think of the overwhelming impact that we humans have on our fellow earthly creatures, for the sake of our convenience, our avarice, and our apathy. Surely we can find a way to live together harmoniously with our furry, flippered, and feathered friends.
