Rich source of myth, or emotive issue? Care is needed when discussing seals. Usually a casual comment initiates a harmless conversation on the beauty and charm of these graceful swimmers, while the more informed may refer to the folklore surrounding an animal which is believed at times to have assumed human form.
Then again, you may be unlucky and find yourself being lectured by seal-haters on the costly damage done to fish stocks. Leaving one to ponder who came first, the animals, or the men? The wise and/or cowardly will leave that debate to others. Still, this sealwatcher was dismayed to have spent a week on Co Donegal's south-west coast without one confirmed sighting. Many "maybes", but nothing that I could log or photograph.
Ireland has two breeding species; the Common seal and its larger cousin, the Atlantic Grey. Along the coasts of counties Donegal, Sligo and Mayo - in Clew Bay if you know the right spots - as well as the Blasket Islands, you will see the Common seal, compact with its round, pretty, puppy head and grey, black, brownish colouring. Common seals pup in July and August and are caring, protective mothers. The babies are black and not much bigger than a human infant. They are taught to swim soon after birth, but their mothers tend them for almost a year.
Even so, mating quickly follows, so Common seal mothers are busy creatures. Generally indolent and playful, the individual seal's demeanour, sad to say, depends largely on its experience of humans. Glengariff in Co Cork is the best seal-watch location in Ireland, while Ballyvaughan in Co Clare seldom disappoints. Greatly in need of immediate seal-watching, we set off for Skerries Harbour in North Co Dublin.
Admittedly early morning is best, but a fine summer's evening offers the contrasting atmosphere of social event rather than naturalist's solitary quest. The harbour is busy; small craft sail by, children shriek and quasi-romantic couples eat ice-cream. A man is trying to reverse a truck into a space better suited to a small car. Embarrassed by his repeated failure, he wants everyone to go home so he can continue his efforts in private. Fourteen Grey seals are in a sociable mood and seem more pleased than curious to see a small girl in a blue dress holding her white toy seal as she shouts greetings to them.
True, the presence of fishermen cleaning shellfish on a nearby boat may be contributing to the happiness of the seals. More accustomed to seeing seals in the north and west of the country, the little girl says, "They're the big ones." They are. The adult Grey seal is about eight and a half feet long. Big enough to evoke images of the vicious beachmaster bull seals who feature in wildlife documentaries, guarding their seal harems and often embarking in fight-to-the death battles.
The Skerries Greys are an easygoing bunch, probably bred in the Lombay colony and benefiting from the peace of a private island. Handsome rather than adorable and too big to be cute, Grey males tend to be black with paler splatches, while the females are paler, whitish with grey splodges. Their attitude to motherhood is far more casual than that of the Common. The Grey's whitecoated newborn feed on mother's milk for about three weeks. Then they are on their own as Mom is busy mating.
As if testifying to this toughness, the Greys pup later in the year as well, in October and November. A teenage girl arrives beside us. She has come from Clontarf with her mother and aunt. They are having supper in a local restaurant. "I wasn't hungry. I really came over to see the seals." A small crowd gathers. A Dutch tourist slinks off as her young son begins to scream in terror. "He's very usually very brave," she says without conviction. Meanwhile the small girl with the toy seal is busy counting the real ones. "There's 14," she informs each newcomer, and now wants to join them in the water, where their graceful swimming action defies their bulk.
Flipping over on their backs and sides, they glide, surface, peer at us, nudge each other, flop back like lazy backstroke swimmers, dive, surface and so on. Out come the cameras, and although the seals oblige, they are too dignified to play outrageously to the gallery. The fishermen are also a study in efficiency. No one seems to be feeding the seals, but dead fish float briefly on the surface of the oily water, before being sighted by seals who catch them deftly, feeding thoughtfully, not greedily.
Should you, however, feel tempted to bring one of these engaging animals home, remember seals are large, fast-moving carnivores, capable of attack on land if approached. Even one of those sweet little seal pups can inflict a wound as bad as that bequeathed by a provoked dog. Enjoy watching seals, but don't forget to respect them.
The Irish Seal Sanctuary; Garristown, Co Dublin. Tel: 01- 8354370.
