Early morning light muted by a layer of clouds. It is the month when the seals gather. Over the hill we walk through the golden grass and down to the cliffs.
The sea is calm and the water clear, deep prussian green. No seals yet on the beach, but in the water a bull seal swims, claiming his territory, waiting for the others to come and pup on the rocky shore.
He ripples the sea surface in circles as he hangs, lazy in the sunshine.
4 comments:
Can't come up with a seal here but yesterday on a drive we saw a female moose and many, many wild turkies.
How fantastic!
Art, Art, Art, said the seal. Ah, yes, that is exactly what Her and Max did all day.
The seals here make different noises to sealions. They hiss with anger like spitting cats, but when their children are born, small and white, they sing like women crooning lullabies. It is eerie, primieval, and makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck. Sings back deep into the dna. Or your soul. Beautiful.
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