The rhythm of the seasons is something we are all aware of, but sometimes I think we are so completely controlled by that rhythm that we forget it’s even there. Like any other species, we alter the things we do (or at least the way we do the things we do) in response to environmental factors that are beyond our control. Humans are clearly in a class of our own, but we are still living beings on a seasonal planet.
This point really struck home on the morning I wrote this column. It was cold outside, so I made sure to grab a sweater against the chill that might be up in my office. I climbed the stairs, not at all sure what I was going to write about. I switched on the computer and then busied myself with mundane office chores while the machine went through its own rhythms of “waking up.” At one point I glanced under the desktop blotter calendar on my desk, saw a cartoon that my father had mailed me, and everything clicked into place.
Let’s go back to August of this year and my trip to Cape Cod. My wife’s family rented a house in Barnstable and we spent a wonderful week doing Cape Cod things. One of these was a visit to Coast Guard Beach, in the town of Eastham. My beautiful wife, Susan, and I had decided to take a little time for ourselves and we headed to this wonderful beach to walk and talk on the sand.
I had my camera with me because I have learned (through painful lessons over the years) that I should never go anywhere without my camera. We descended from the parking lot to the beach, took a right and headed down the beach. It wasn’t long before we came upon something I had never seen before — seals!
These were gray seals (Halichoerus grypus) and they were loafing in the shallow water just off the beach. Farther out in the water, hidden by the high tide, there was a sandbar that sort of created the equivalent of a gigantic natural wading pool. The seals were using this natural shelter to stay out of the deeper water because of sharks.
Great white sharks visit the waters of Cape Cod during the summertime to hunt seals. This is where female seals give birth to their pups, so the sharks follow in hopes of grabbing an easy meal. Sharks were a big story in the news this summer and the cartoon my father mailed me featured a shark talking to humans on the beach. The shark said, “Seriously? Your Beach? My family’s been coming here for 420 million years!” The biologist in me laughs at that idea, because it’s so true.
Anyway, there were hundreds of people on the beach that day, and there was a sign that warned us that we were forbidden to approach the seals. What was interesting is that the seals seemed to feel no such restrictions in approaching humans. I was standing quite close to the water’s edge and one seal after another would swim over and check on what I was doing. At one point there must have been only 70 feet between a seal and myself; all because the seal was curious.
This was a jackpot for me. Based on the ratio of adults to pups, I assumed that most of the seals were mothers and their babies. The adults were quite large and had pronounced “Roman” noses while the youngsters were smaller with more delicate features. They were all keeping an eye on the people walking on the beach, but I never got the sense that they were concerned by our proximity. I think they were simply people watching.
Then I noticed one particular seal that seemed to be doing its own thing. While the others were bobbing in the water with their heads sticking up, this one free spirit was floating on its back with just its belly and its nose poking up above the surface. Because its eyes were underwater, this seal may have been playing the role of lookout, but I got the sense that this seal was genuinely relaxing. Perhaps the other seals in the group were rolling their eyes and thinking, “There goes Gerald again, floating on his back like an imbecile.” The natural shape of a seal’s mouth happens to coincidentally resemble a human smile, but that seal really did look happy.
Well, that was August. I was in shorts and a T-shirt and walking on the sand in my bare feet. August turned to September and school started up again. September turned to October and the leaves fell off the trees. October turned to November and we all ate some turkey. Now December is here. Four days from now, we will experience the shortest day of the year and just seven days from now we will find ourselves enjoying Christmas Eve.
Surely the thoughts of strolls down summertime beaches will be pushed aside while visions of sugar plums dance in our heads, but here’s a notion that might jolt you back into reality for just a moment. The seals are still there. Unlike us humans, who crowd around the fireplace to toast our tootsies, the seals are lounging on the beaches and rocks off the coast. While we might get up from our comfortable seats to forage for cookies and other treats, the seals have to go swimming in search of sand lance and other delicious fish to eat.
But even the seals experience a benefit to the rhythm of the seasons. Those great white sharks that came to Cape Cod to hunt in the summer have all headed down to Florida for the winter. The seals may have to deal with the cold, but at least the water is a safer place to be. Here’s hoping that we all have a safe place to be in the coming days.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 21 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the U.S. Forest Service and Massachusetts State Parks, and currently teaches high school biology and physics. Visit speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.