By Christina Scannapiego
San Clemente Times
Actually, they’re California sea lions. An inside look at south San Clemente’s water-bound sentinels
They’ve been as much a part of our landscape as Seal Rock itself—the irony is, they’re actually sea lions. Their barking echoes through town all night, and their
almost regal, upright silhouettes are just another part of the horizon for surfers and beachgoers. But one day I came to the realization that these sea lions weren’t just the background or setting around which our daily lives played out. That fact was staring me in the face—literally. I was surfing T Street and a sea lion popped up not 3 feet away from me. The very same sea lion would appear every day for almost two weeks, swimming around the shallow water inside the surf zone, staring at us surfers, following us around. It was unsettling the way he watched our every move with giant, fist-sized eyes. They were luminous. He watched closely as surfers rode by him, chased them around the lineup, popping up to surprise everybody, almost seeming human. We all became as curious about him as he was about us. Seems that almost everyone who surfs or swims from T Street to San O had a similar interaction.
According to Jason Marian, Sea Floor Science coordinator for the Ocean Institute in Dana Point, that particular sea lion was most likely a juvenile male. Sea lions are nocturnal—which is why they bark all night when they’re feeling territorial or are trying to attract a mate. Like dogs and cats, they’ve got a sort of night vision to hunt for fish and shellfish. Because they don’t have much blubber, they spend all day sunbathing, trying to warm up. But when they’re out and about during the day, like my friend at T Street, they’re just having fun. “It’s just like having a young child that never wants to rest and always wants to play,” Marian explains. Their species is a gregarious one, unlike the loner harbor seal with whom the sea lions share Seal Rock. In fact, juveniles often play with bubbles from scuba divers and snorkelers.
Because they’re so outgoing, they love to be touched. It’s the reason they’re easily trained. Gary Harvey, who runs the lifeguard rescue boat Surfwatch and who has observed the Seal Rock group every day on the job since 1980, often sees them “wrapped up” together, body to body, floating on their sides on warm, calm, sunny days—each with one flipper up in the air. “When they’re getting beat up and it’s stormy, they’re all over that rock like crazy,” he says. “It’s a good thing the rock is there.” Even then, they’re piled on top of each other according to their pecking order—unlike seals, who need their space. Harvey believes the same couple of large, dominant males have been presiding over their group out there for almost five years now. Marian explains that one or two of these alpha males will protect their harem of females and juveniles.
But despite all their friendly qualities, these wild animals are hardly domesticated. “You don’t want to touch them,” Marian says. “They’ve got canine-like teeth. It would be like petting a mountain lion.” He explains that if a sea lion’s come onto the beach, it’s probably sick and beaching itself as a last resort. Trained rescuers are the only humans who should approach it. Says Harvey in agreement: “It isn’t Sea World out there.” He recalls an instance in which his brother, Tim, was free diving off Cotton’s and a very old sea lion had gotten in his face and started barking at him underwater. The animal hovered above him, not letting him up for air, but Tim was finally able to bolt up to the surf ski he was paddling. After that, accounts cropped up of the aggressive sea lion running surfers out of the water at Uppers and Cotton’s. Though they’re not usually territorial in the water, they apparently become senile and ornery in old age, some developing distemper.
Still, these animals seem to coexist in our community pretty well, and though Seal Rock continues to erode naturally, leaving less room for the group every year, they’re here to stay. “They’re fun to watch, they’re great fishermen and, on the whole, they’re harmless,” says Harvey. Marian explains that there is intermixing that goes on locally, and a few sea lions that swim out too far from Newport or Dana Point may join the Seal Rock group (and vice versa), but for the most part, they’re not going anywhere.
Hot Links
www.ocean-institute.org
www.pacificmmc.org
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