by Jan Chaffin 1/22/2025

It was January 20, 2025-the day Martin Luther King is celebrated yearly. It was also inauguration day. This year, the flags were at half-staff to honor the recent passing of our 39^th President Jimmy Carter.

For slightly less than half the nation, today was a day of apprehension and sadness. A dramatic tonal shift was occurring with the recent election, enabling authoritarianism to an unprecedented degree in our shortish history. I was among those who felt a sense of dread at the forthcoming slew of policies designed to reverse the human and environmental protections of previous administrations.

Today was going to be a busy holiday Monday at Año Nuevo-the California State Park where I work. We are a rookery for northern elephant seals and folks travel almost as far as the elephant seals to watch the majestic wild pageant of 5,000-pound bulls battling for breeding rights with considerably less hefty 1,200-pound females who arrive each winter pregnant.

At the peak of the four-month season, thousands of seals cover the two miles of sandy dunes and beaches north of Santa Cruz. I arrived at work, prepared to be assaulted by crowds vying for coveted slots on seal tours and by a range of my own barely contained emotions.

Visitors were indeed flocking in droves to the park, perhaps seeking solace in nature, or just wanting to do something fun on their day off. It was the busiest day of the season so far, yet I felt an urgent need to see the seals for the first time this year.

I arranged for permission to walk out unguided in the early afternoon. We are situated on a point of land that typically experiences harsh winds, and what started as a chilly morning had become a gloriously sunny, mild day.

I always love walking out to the point. Passing through several ancient geologic and seismic fault zones along the way, I am awed by the unlikely immensity of life before and beyond us.

Today, prehistoric brown pelicans flew overhead, dropping down into the fresh-water pond to rinse the salt from their wings. The resilient Monterey Bay sparkled to the left and the deep, guttural staccato of bulls could be heard in the distance. I passed between groups of 15 or more people and began my climb up the tallest dune that we call “Lawrence of Arabia”.

At the top, I paused to take in the view of the sand below and the fire-charred hills off to the right. The markers guided me to the closest viewing beach called South Point where two groups were observing a large colony of several hundred seals.

There is a lot of drama in an elephant seal colony. The dynamics and interactions are fascinating to watch and ever-changing. The adult males battle for the slim chance of mating by establishing a hierarchy of dominance based on size and ferocity. At the same time as all that male posturing and feuding, the females are strategically placing themselves out of harm’s way of galumphing bulls, delivering then protecting their nursing pups. Sometimes, bulls will inadvertently crush the newborn pups in their testosterone-fueled drive to fight and mate.

Elephant seals are an old species, surviving for millions of years despite near extinction by humans in the early 20^thcentury.  At the same time each year, they return to their same rookeries and the humans who once hunted them now clamor to observe them.

The groups were intently watching a male attempt to mate with a female and several male pairs fighting to the right of the viewing area when suddenly one of the tour leaders near the front edge of the beach exclaimed: “Look, there’s a birth!” Immediately, we all turned to watch. Elephant seal births tend to be swift and seemingly painless events, however this female was struggling to extract her pup, who was slowly emerging flippers first.

After a few minutes, with all of us transfixed, she completed her delivery, and the little black pup emerged to quiet cheers. An umbilical cord was still attached when two females with pups of their own suddenly started biting at the newborn. We gasped in shock at this behavior, concerned for the pup’s well-being.

Fortunately, the newborn’s mom protested and successfully fended off the other females’ assaults. She then began attending to her pup although we hadn’t seen her start to nurse yet. Sometimes, if there is no immediate pair bonding, the mother will reject the pup, and it will starve to death.

Soon we could see placenta covering the sand and from all directions, a giant flock of western seagulls rapidly descended to gleefully feed on the afterbirth. It was time for the groups to move on, but no one wanted to leave. I’d worked at Año Nuevo for over eight years and never witnessed a birth.

After a three mile hike, I returned to work buoyed by the experience. The fate of the world worried me a little less and I had to chuckle that the aggressive fighting and mating behaviors of the male seals nearby had taken a back seat to the miracle of birth.

There is no guarantee that the mom will bond with her pup or that the pup will survive to adulthood, but I had new-found hope that because all living systems strive for homeostasis, perhaps our own nascent species might survive this latest threat.