Bleeding Heart

My neighbor, Dima, asked me if I wanted to do something today. I said I’d planned to walk on the beach. I didn’t mention thinking about swimming out to sea to drown my sorrow about being alone, yet again, on Valentine’s Day. People tend to take those comments seriously and want to call a hotline for you. She was happy to hear that I’d be happy to have her accompany me and we went to Surf Beach, which is owned by Vanderberg AFB.

We walked south a little ways (maybe half a mile or so) and a couple walking toward us said there was a baby seal* up ahead. I could make out a speck in the distance. This has never happened before. I go to this beach a lot and I have never once seen a seal*. They went on to say that there was a mama seal further up the beach and she didn’t look good. I asked if they’d call someone when they got back to the parking lot (because there is zero cell reception on the beach) and they said they would.

Dima wanted to know who they’d call. I said I had no idea, since whenever I hear about wildlife being rescued it happens up near Morro Bay or down in Santa Barbara. But they looked like an intelligent couple and I was sure they’d Google it.

It’s a ridiculously hot day here (sorry to those on the east coast, I can’t appreciate 86 when it should be 66), and it’s the weekend, so there were a lot more people on the beach than usual. And by a lot, probably a total of 50 or so.

We approached the baby seal* and he (I have no idea if it was a he or she, but that was my sense of the little sweetheart) was wary. He looked confused, but knew enough to be afraid of the big humans. I talked to him in my “soothing the animal” voice and he let me get pretty close. But then some kids approached and he freaked, moving toward the surf. I wasn’t sure he could handle the ocean (the couple had said they thought he’d just been born and I had no idea if that was true or not). I told the kids to keep back, not to scare him, and they did.

 Dima wanted to walk on, so I left the little guy and continued, curious about his mother.

When we got to her it was obvious that she was in terrible shape. You don’t need to be an expert on seals* to know that it shouldn’t be possible to walk right up to one and pet it. She was in such distress and there was nothing to do for her. 

We walked on (Dima likes to walk because she thinks it makes the calories in her snacks disappear, bless her heart). We didn’t go as far as I normally do because she was tired (when you’re not used to walking on the sand it’s a harder workout), and when we approached the mama seal* again she was in the process of throwing herself into the ocean.

I don’t know where she found the strength to do it, since she seemed so close to death already (I have a way with animals, but I don’t kid myself that a seal* would let me stroke her fur, on her head no less, if she wasn’t incapable of snapping my fingers off with her teeth). The tide was going out and she would throw herself into a wave and be taken out a bit, then the retreating surf would flip her onto her back where she’d stay, unable to move. Another wave would right her and she’d do it again. Then she just couldn’t move on her own anymore and a wave pushed her face into the sand. I couldn’t stand to watch, and walked away.

When we got back to the baby seal* he looked in our direction, which was also the direction his mom was, then started toward the ocean. I have no idea how these animals communicate, but I said to Dima that I wondered if the mama found the strength to get herself back into the water so that he’d know he should do the same thing. They were too far apart for her to show him, but maybe he could sense it.

He hesitated a bit when the first wave hit him, but then he just dove on in and disappeared under the water. I saw him come up once, but that was it. I truly hope he’s okay and found some other seals* to help him learn what his mama can no longer teach him.

A staff sergeant from VAFB walked up at that time and we told him that he’d just missed the baby, and I pointed out where the mama’s body was further down the beach. He said that in the past when a seal has come up onto the beach and been sick it’s been due to mercury poisoning. He asked if she had any wounds and she did have one on her neck. He told me that if I ever saw something I felt should be reported, like this, to call the VAFB law enforcement desk and they’d know who to send out. The couple we’d met had done just that.

He went off to investigate mama and deal with that and we headed back to the parking lot. As we did, I saw that another airman was walking with a man in the same direction. Walking with doesn’t really describe it. He was slightly behind him, off to the side a bit, and his body language screamed “on guard.” I told Dima we needed to be on firmer sand and moved us away, though we were walking parallel to them all the way back to the parking lot.

Poor Dima wasn’t prepared for the final dune climb off the beach and onto the train tracks. It’s not steep, but it’s a long slog uphill through dry sand after you’ve just walked for an hour and a half and it can cause cursing and heavy breathing. Can? Who am I kidding? Every single time I walk up that dune I curse it. So we got to the parking lot, and then used the restroom, and then went to my car to change out of our beach shoes and go home.

I saw the airman standing over the guy he’d walked up the beach. The guy had his hands cuffed behind his back and was sitting on the curb two cars down from mine. The airman was talking into his radio spelling out the man’s name. I didn’t stare, exactly, since I was raised with manners, but I did take in the situation.

As we drove off I said to Dima that I wondered what the man had done wrong, or how the airman had known that he was wanted, if that was the case. She said, “What? What are you talking about?” So I said something like, “The guy on the beach? The guy the military man just escorted back here? The guy who’s in handcuffs and about to be taken away? Did you not see him?”

She said she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary and she was fascinated that I had. I wanted to say, “Never ever come here alone to walk, okay?” but I didn’t. I said that I often am the only person walking on the beach and I pay attention to my surroundings and to what’s going on when others are present. That it’s called being prudent. She said, “Even when there are all these families here, enjoying the day?” I said I couldn’t turn off my radar. I had the feeling she felt sorry for me.

So, I watched a beautiful creature’s life end, and saw another go off into the unknown very likely unprepared. Rather than taking away from the day that at least I spent some time with an acquaintance, I focused on how alone I am. Just like the baby seal*. No mom anymore, no idea what might be next, and no red roses on Valentine’s Day. Okay, the seal* is probably unconcerned on that score. But it’s been an unsettling day and I’ll whine if I want to.

*I later learned they were sea lions, not seals.