This little guy looks brand new. But I haven’t cleaned up after a complete birth yet this year–though I did see evidence a birth had begun. If disturbed, they can halt the process and carry on elsewhere. That may have happened here. She may have gone to the yacht club next door to finish.
After four years among the Selkies of Dogfish Bay, I remain perplexed by their mysterious ways. This is the first blog post about the 2019 seal birthing season.
This whale has been here for a week or so. The good folks of Fisheries and Wildlife have been monitoring it for signs of distress. It seems the local gray population has been undernourished, possibly due to climate change and it’s effect on availability of krill–on which these majestic creatures feed. The important work on my libretto has been sidetracked by several factors: this elderly gray, the immanent seal birthing season, and a group of clueless youth harrassing pregnant seals with a volley of rocks from a skiff. All this stress reaches a fevered pitch this time of year, when the birthing season of local species interfaces with Summer Yahoos bent on pleasure in its multifaceted allurements.
These developments will not distract from my most pressing task–the creation of the opera. Stay tuned for the next chapter in which Drumph drafts a brilliant memo–a work of awesome fictive power–explaining his justification for Comey’s firing.
Breaking news–The ocean currents off Maralago’s splendid shore are treacherous in their circuitously dissembling convolutions.