All photos are credited to Dianne Norton. Used with permission.
I hate meeting new people because I’m terrible at small talk. I get anxious at gatherings where I don’t know many people and I cling to my wife like a barnacle. She’s outgoing.
Someone might ask, “Who do you want in the World Series this year, Brian?” My mind turns to goo, and I say, “Excuse me I need to use the washroom.” Then I hide there until it’s time to leave.
Sure, I’m outgoing, engaging, and gregarious when I’m sitting in front of a keyboard, but that’s different. I can write, edit, delete, and look up World Series references at my leisure. The real world is far more difficult.
Because of my irrational fear, I’ve avoided situations where I’m expected to interact with strangers. Like volunteering.
That is until I met a mysterious sea creature who changed my life.
I met a northern elephant seal
Careers took my wife and me to a variety of cities around the country. Reminiscent of Goldilocks, we found most to be too warm, too cold, too crowded, or too hectic. When we found a place that was ‘just right’, we bought a home and retired.
We live on an island off the northwest coast of Washington State surrounded by forests, rivers, mountains, and the ocean — and all their remarkable creatures.
Males have a large proboscis (nose) like the trunk of an elephant. That’s why they’re called elephant seals.
One day, my wife and I hiked along the waterfront to a local bay we loved. As we rounded the coastline, we ran into a line of orange cones and yellow caution tape. A small group of adventurers gathered around, murmuring, and pointing at a dark-brown lump lying in the middle of the boat ramp.
“Is that a seal?” I asked the young lady who looked official. Her tag said her name was Madison and she worked for NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration).
“Not just a seal,” she said proudly. “He’s a northern elephant seal. His name is Emerson. He’s five weeks old.”
“Really? What’s he doing here?”
“His mother, Elsie Mae, cared for him for a month and now she’s gone far out to sea.”
“She left him behind?” That sounded cruel.
“Yes, but that’s normal for these animals.”
Newborn northern elephant seals grow from 60 pounds to 300 pounds in one month. Then their mom abandons them, never to meet again.
“Normal?” I whispered to my wife: “Wish we could have done that with our kids.” She whacked me.
We chatted with Madison for quite a while and watched Emerson sneak glances at the crowd, waddle onto the grass, yawn, and stretch his little flippers, posing like a Hollywood movie star. He had a distinct personality and seemed to enjoy the attention.
As the group thinned and Emmerson dozed, I leaned over the caution tape to get the perfect photo. His whiskers twitched and he opened his big ink-black eyes and peered deep into my soul. That moment I fell in love.
I’m not a volunteer, I’m more of a disciple
I don’t volunteer. Never have. It’s that small talk thing again.
When I retired, everyone said, “You should volunteer, it’ll fill your time with meaning and passion.” I envisioned sitting around a table with a bunch of bored geriatrics painting signs and talking about carburetors and quilt patterns.
Northern elephant seals feed at depths of 2,000 to 5,000 feet. They’re the second deepest divers of all marine mammals.
My wife asked Madison, “Oh, Emerson is such a cutie. How can we help?” I cringed, trapped with no escape.
No, no, no, no, no, I thought. We’ll end up standing on a cold rainy beach talking to strangers, and I hate talking to strangers. What am I going to say to them?
“Emerson and Elsie Mae sure could use the help. Call Phil and he’ll set you up. Here’s his number…”
Whalers hunted elephant seals to the brink of extinction in the late 1800s. They’ve rebounded from as few as 50 animals to an estimated 200,000 now.
On the trek home, my wife bubbled with glee. She’s always loved animals — all sizes and shapes — and called Phil as soon as we got home. A few days later, she dragged me along to meet him and discuss volunteering.
Phil turned out to be a fascinating, highly informed, marine mammal expert, who put us at ease and dazzled us with compelling marine mammal stories.
NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration)
We could have fostered dogs — that doesn’t require small talk. We could have baked pies, donated blood, or cleared hiking trails. Instead, we chose to volunteer with NOAA to protect marine mammals, starting with one so large, that if she rolled over on me she’d crush me into a pancake.
Northern elephant seals shed their skin in what’s called a catastrophic molt. Human skin flakes off all year long, but these creatures do it annually, all at once.
Soon after we signed up, Elsie Mae, little Emerson’s mother, hauled out of the sea and onto a beach on our lovely little island. For the next four to six weeks, this 1,000-pound beauty queen would lie on the sand shedding her skin.
They neither drink nor eat when molting, taking all nourishment from their blubber. Elsie Mae will lose over 200 pounds in six weeks, a weight-loss program not recommended for humans.
Our first assignment was to protect Elsie Mae while educating the public. To prepare, I studied elephant seal facts and spoke with other volunteers who turned out to be interesting people just like Phil.
My badge labels me as a NOAA Fisheries Volunteer with the Marine Mammal Stranding Network. It implies I’m an expert of sorts.
Helping her helps me
“Is that a seal?” a woman asked me. “It’s awfully big.” She held the hands of two disinterested elementary-age girls.
A thousand-pound dark-brown lump lay on the rocky beach behind me. A row of orange cones and yellow caution tape surrounded the scene. “Not just a seal, it’s a northern elephant seal,” I said proudly. “They’re very rare around here.”
Female northern elephant seals weigh up to 2,000 pounds. Males can grow to 5,000 pounds — more than a truck— and measure 13 feet long.
“What’s it doing?” one of her kids asked, looking at the lump.
“Is it hurt?” asked the other.
Several onlookers heard our conversation and sidled over to listen.
“Oh, she’s fine. She’s molting,” I said. “Once a year elephant seals grow a new layer of skin, and the old layer falls off. That’s called molting. It can take as long as six weeks.”
“Their skin falls off?” The girls’ eyes lit up.
I held out a piece of molted skin to show them.
“That’s fur,” they said.
“Yes, these animals have a layer of fur over a thick layer of blubber. It’s cold out there in the deep ocean.”
A layer of blubber more than 6 inches thick keeps them warm in the bone-chilling waters of the Pacific Ocean.
They stopped squirming and squeezed up against the caution tape to watch the lump as we talked.
“What does she eat?”
“How old is she?”
“How much does she weigh?
When at sea, they sleep while descending thousands of feet to the bottom to feed.
‘Does she have a mate?”
“Is this beach her home?”
“How far can she swim?”
“What’s her name?”
People are amazing
An old seafarer came to visit on his bicycle. He cried when he told me about the loss of his wife and his job. Watching Elsie Mae cheered him, and he returned every day to check on her, rain or shine.
When these amazing creatures are impregnated, they store the fertilized egg for up to four months before implanting it in their uterus.
A family from Germany came to visit. They’d never seen the ocean, much less a northern elephant seal. Their younger child spoke very little English, so we pantomimed how Elsie Mae caught and ate octopus.
They eat bottom fish, octopus, squid, and small sharks. They’re no threat to salmon.
A family from Colorado wandered by to see what the commotion was. They stayed for an hour taking hundreds of pictures, asking questions, and watching in awe.
Their main predators are Orca Whales and Great White Sharks.
Scores of locals getting their daily exercise walked by to check on Elsie Mae. Some came every day as if they’d adopted her. They painted pictures, made hats, and published books and calendars. I got to know many of them and made more friends than I’d ever expected.
And yes, I made small talk-hours and hours of it.
Northern elephant seals spend 90% of their time at sea below the surface for safety. They come ashore only to mate, birth, and molt.
She’s gone away to the deep ocean now, but before she went, she left me a gift. A gift of companionship and wisdom. I learned that volunteering is a cherished honor, and because of it, I’m a better man.
Thanks to a beautiful lady I met on the beach who weighs 1,000 pounds and loves to eat sushi.