Fixin' Leaks and Leeks

For a flippin’ good time, a herd of sea lions crashed Edmonds beach, and a lucky crowd got to see some things.

Nate, Alex, and I drove about fifteen minutes to Edmonds beach, hoping to catch a glimpse of a sea star or two, but it was too cloudy outside and the marina boat dock was too oily. But apparently, those are ripe conditions for spotting sooo many sea lions.

At first, we thought we heard an unusual amount of dogs barking. Big, loud dogs. But the barking was coming from out beyond the Sound, and when we looked closer at the rocks near the boat marina, we could see that some of them were moving. The place was crawling with sea lions!

We spotted a few camping out near the beach, and volunteers came by to put cones and signs around them, warning people not to go near them—not that it would be my first instinct to go near one. They’re quite big and intimidating—and they really, really do look like they could hurt you. They’re also too stinky for a hug.

“Is this their season?” I asked one of the volunteers, hoping she’d catch my hint at what season I thought it was.

“Well, they’re migrating this time of year,” she said. “They just snack their way along the Pacific Coast until they get to San Francisco.”

That’s my idea of a road trip. Jump in the water, swim around a bit, eat some snacks, and end up in San Francisco.

In any case, as we gazed at the boat marina, we realized there was a huge male sea lion staked out on a stretch of the dock near some very expensive boats. He was all alone and loving it. But then, we saw a bunch of smaller sea lions (we assumed they were female), swimming along—and noticing either the large male or the large amount of prime real estate he was hoarding all to himself. Probably, they were eyeing both things.

One of the sea lions in the water got brave, poked (her?) head out of the water, and bellied up to the dock. The larger sea lion, already on the dock, was not having it. He swayed his head back and forth and barked, but (she?) barked back. Soon, other smaller sea lions that were in the water got onto the dock/pier with him. He acted like he didn’t like it, but he let them stay.

The crowd that had gathered was lively. Children clapped and cheered every time a new sea lion encroached upon the male sea lion’s territory. Soon, there was a whole line of them facing us—like they were on stage.

I was hoping one of them would crawl into the boat named “It’s About Time” and sit right behind the captain’s wheel, but that didn’t happen.

The “show” did get a little spicy when a man in scuba gear shooed all the sea lions from the dock/pier. The whole crowd booed. He turned to the crowd to try to explain that he couldn’t have sea lions near all those expensive boats, but we weren’t buying it. He was just a killjoy.

When he left, the sea lions he’d just shooed away got back on the pier/dock anyway, but since they were just lined up in a row and barking, there wasn’t much more to see. We’d seen that already. I suppose if we stayed long enough, they might have fought, but I didn’t really want to see that, either—or other things.

We walked away, though, with warm memories of vacationing sea lions, looking for their next time share. Perhaps they’d steal a yacht named “Sea’s the Day” for a joy ride.

Your Turn: What wildlife have you been lucky to see near your neck of the woods?