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.

The seals, and there are two of them, hang in the water, whiskery muzzles twitching and big, soft eyes taking it all in. At low tide, no doubt overwhelmed with visual stimuli, they haul up on a sandbank, and snooze in the sun. This behaviour makes me wonder if they are common rather than grey seals. In the cause of getting it right, I’ve twice gone to scan the sandbanks with binoculars. Needless to say, the seals haven’t shown up.

In West Cork, common seals are rare between Roaring Water Bay, where there is a small population, and Kinsale. Further west, Bantry Bay and Kenmare Bay hold large numbers.

It is unusual, but not unknown, for grey seals to haul up on sandbanks.

Altogether more austere in their habits than their common seal cousins, they usually prefer rough rocks or patches of sea pinks clinging to such rocks, to lie on.

Differentiating between the two species isn’t always easy. There are four points of difference, shape of head, size, colour and behaviour. The common seal is the ‘prettier’ of the two, with a rounded head and a snub nose, while the grey has a flat head and equine nose, giving them the name ‘horse-head seals’ in Canada.

The common seal is much smaller than the grey — which if it is a bull, is half the size of a walrus, measuring six and a half feet and weighing 36 stone. However, as 90% of the animal is usually submerged when we see it, relative size may not help. Greys are our largest mammals, if we discount whales.

Neither is colour a reliable indicator, the coats of both species being variegated and similar except in newly born pups, where grey seals are covered in white, fluffy down, lost by the common seal in the womb before it is born.

Habitat and behaviour of the species overlap. While the grey is an animal of wild coasts and remote islands and the common (also called the Harbour Seal) lives mainly in bays and estuaries, both can sometimes be found in the same locations. However, the way they nurture their young is very different indeed.

Although wonderfully adapted to an aquatic life, seals cannot give birth and suckle their young at sea, as can the whales. They must come ashore or climb onto the sea ice. Common seal pups are better adapted than greys. Born on an intertidal sandbank or rock, they have smooth coats and big flippers and can swim away on the next tide. They stay close to the mother who, on land and in the sea, will play with them and give them piggyback rides; if danger threatens, she pulls them under water, out of sight. If the pup strays over a few feet from her, it emits a bleating call.

Two weeks ago, in this column, I quoted the account of Aisling nic an tSithigh who, while swimming off an island in Kerry, found a common seal pup following her ashore, then climbing onto her lap and pathetically crying for its mother. It took her some time to persuade it to crawl back into the sea. She sent me some remarkable photographs of the event.

Without waxing anthropomorphic, the seal really does look pathetic and lost. As in mostly all young creatures, the disproportionate size of the eyes is endearing.

Grey seals have a rougher nurturing. Born on rocky beaches or in caves, they are fed by the mother for three weeks and then abandoned. Pups not yet strong enough to swim are often swept away in storms, their white baby-coats becoming waterlogged and drowning them. Only about 20% survive the first year.