Elephant Seals Are Survivors

P E S C A D E R O, Calif., July 27 -- What weighs 3,000 pounds, hangs out at the beach with a gaggle of girlfriends, and makes noise like an idling motorcycle?

A northern elephant seal, of course. From December through March, thousands of these enormous, blubbery mammals with small fins and long snouts swim ashore to molt along the coasts of California and Mexico. Come fall, they return to the sea, diving sometimes a mile deep to forage for food. They have to fatten up for their winter sojourn at the beach, when they expend tremendous energy to breed and give birth.

Built Like a Bean Bag

The sight of these beached beasts, sprawled out on the sand, is arresting. “They look funny and they sound funny,” is one preschooler’s reaction to the elephant seals at central California’s Año Nuevo State Reserve, the world’s largest colony of these unique-looking pinnipeds. Others describe the seals as “a cross between a bean bag and a Volkswagen Bug,” a “ lurching waterbed with the face of an elephant,” or “giant slugs.”

As for their character, the term “survivor” comes to mind. In the 19th century, elephant seals were hunted for their high-quality oil, 200 pounds of which could be obtained from a large, adult male. The oil was used for lamps, lubricating machinery, and making paint, soap, and candles. It was so popular that by the end of the 1880s, after 40 years of hunting, elephant seals were thought to be extinct.

But on Guadalupe Island, off the coast of Baja California, a colony of about 100 seals survived and multiplied. The offspring were protected by the Mexican government in 1922, and later by the United States. In 1972, hunting and harassment of seals was banned by the Marine Mammal Protection Act. Scientists now calculate the population at between 120,000 and 160,000. They call this comeback the most remarkable of any marine mammal in North America.

On a cold day in February, some 1,700 of these unusual creatures gave an animated performance to a group of tourists at the 4,000-acre Año Nuevo reserve. “Just wait,” Grace Hansen, a volunteer docent told us as clouds rolled in. “The seals get quite lively, even rowdy, in bad weather.”