When seals play games

The Harbour Seals were singing while I rowed in the cove this morning. I think fog inspires them to heights of sealish melody. I rowed toward Indian Point, where they often loll about on some exposed rocks at low tide. I decided to creep up on them by rowing backward - by which I mean my stern was going forward, which is backward, if you get my drift. It is an awkward way to row, but it let me face them as I approached.

Now and then I stopped rowing entirely and drifted, all the time coming closer and closer, ever so stealthily. I was quite proud of how well I was sneaking up on them, until they slid off their rocks and disappeared beneath the water. They had been watching me the whole time, I guess.

I changed my strategy then. I rowed boldly into the wide cove above Indian Point and rested my oars and sat. Dark heads began to emerge from beneath the water to look at me. I counted eight. It's a curious experience to wait for seals to show themselves. If they want, they will let you see them. Also if they want, they can look at you without being seen. They can come up, look you over, and disappear again all without your knowing it, even if you are sitting right in the middle of them. Several times I heard a splash close behind me and turned as fast as I could, to see nothing but leftover ripples and a few air bubbles. It felt like a game of hide and seek, or maybe blind man's bluff. Whatever the game was, they had the home advantage.