Seals fascinate us just as we fascinate them

WHEN we take the visiting grandchildren mackerel fishing in the summer, one of the highlights is always the big seals drawn up on the rock island at the mouth of the bay, or treading water in the sea around it, immersed up to their nostrils like Japanese men simmering in Tokyo public baths.

However, recently, seals have increasingly taken to swimming up the estuary, and are available for viewing from gardens along the shore. I haven’t seen them myself, but apparently everybody else has. Very curious and unafraid, they seem to enjoy shrill noises and respond with curiosity when whistled at. Just as we are fascinated by seals, they seem fascinated by us.

Sometimes, they float within ten yards of a local pub garden, possibly attracted by the sartorial diversity of the summer crowd, and the happy buzz of their conversation. These humans must, indeed, be a sight to watch, plumes of smoke rising out of their heads as they laugh, clink glasses, pour drinks of various colours down their throats and prance about on two legs or, sometimes, crawl on all fours.