Walking along the beach at this wonderful national nature reserve, we were struck by the volatile energy in the sea, sky and land. Everything and everyone – the gulls cycling relentlessly over the waves, the seals ashore and the strollers along the beach – was bathed in brilliant sun-dazzle.
Yet the air was filled with salt spray and whipped-up sand, and the dune vegetation shuddered in a high wind. At the water’s edge, out of every freshly smashed wave, the northerlies scooped a layer of foam that was then washed ashore with the tide. It looked as if a trowel had smoothed down a fresh layer of white across the flats.
Regardless of the perpetual churn there was also extraordinary stillness – and the dark eyes of the grey seal pups seemed its very soul. Many were born last month and while some still have the creamy lanugo of birth, others have already moulted and acquired pebbly grey spots on their bellies and backs.
Their increase in size is remarkable, individuals gaining as much as 1.8kg a day from the 50% fat of their mother’s milk. I love the way these youngsters loll on their backs with not a care in this frenzied world; when I zoomed a lens on to the face of one sleeping pup you could see how the left nostril flared open with each rhythmic exhalation, like an old man snoring.
Not all the seals were at ease. The adult females may have only just given birth but the reproductive strategy of the species is remorseless and they are usually pregnant again even before they wean the winter’s pups. To make sure of it, the bulls patrol the beach for any receptive partner.
Seal sex is a highly public and rather fraught business. Even in congress the heads and upper bodies of both animals writhe and, open-mouthed, they snarl and gnash at each other’s face. His scarred neck is covered in gore, her bared teeth curve into a strange sort of smiling grimace. Then they slumber down, his flipper on her flank, and she nuzzles in so that their long whiskers momentarily intertwine.
