Pohaku -- Hawaiian Monk Seal

Just like every little girl who has ever buried her face in the downy fur of a puppy or kitten, I've loved animals. Still do. Even reptiles. But because I grew up in Hawaii, I think I have an affinity for marine animals. 

Today I got to stare at a monk seal named Pohaku. 

She's 7 years old and gave birth 5 months ago on a beach in Kauai. A pregnant seal weighs 600 pounds, and really, she didn't look much longer from nose to toe than I am. Try to imagine that for a moment. Lucky thing she can swim all day. And no more complaining about catching the ferry or having to go to Silverdale. She had to swim to Kauai from Oahu when she was 600 pounds! When she whelped her pup, she spent 5 weeks nursing him. During that time she doesn't hunt or eat. She simply feeds the pup. She weighed approximately 200 pounds when she was done weaning him. She's now around 300 pounds and curvy in all the right places. She's beautiful. Seals are about 5 or 6 when they can start to have pups. They usually produce just one pup a year. This was Pohaku's first whelping. 

It occurs to me that I'm using dog words to describe this seal. I don't know if that's right or not, but I do know that the word for seal in Hawaiian means dog. Specifically `Ilio-holo-i-ka-uaua -- dog which runs in rough waters. 

She likes to hang out at Lanikahonua lagoon at Ko'olina. 

Lanikahonua is a favorite of a lot of people it turns out. So much so that my girls and I set out at 8 AM to score one of the very few parking spots at the beach. By the time we got there, only 5 spots remained. Half of the sand and into the water was roped off because Miss Pohaku was napping right on the shore, the water just touching her when a wave rolled in. Rope is probably too strong a word for what it is -- more of a green kite string; enough to be seen. More of a, "please stay away," than a, "KEEP OUT!" Nearly half of the lagoon was inaccessible because of Pohaku's choice bed. 

Surprisingly, not too many people questioned the barrier. Lots took pictures and aside from a couple of unobservant kids whose parents were quick to correct, nobody swam behind the obvious barriers set up to give the seal space. 

The Hawaiian Monk Seal Patrol volunteer was a small local woman whose long brown hair was well bleached in the sun, past ehu to gold. She sat on a beach chair and was gentle with her corrections of people who came a little too close. She never raised her voice, smiled and seemed almost reproachful. She even thanked a little girl who walked the long way around instead of swimming past the barrier so that she would not disturb the seal as she went past. Like your favorite elementary school teacher, her best corrections were when she never spoke a word. She simply got up, walked over to where the infraction was happening and quietly watched. 

She told me Pohaku's story. At one point I thought she was going to recruit me into the crew of volunteers. Truth is, had I met her 4 weeks ago, I might have signed up. NOAA will call the crew when there is a sighting and then volunteers, of which there are about 20 active, will seal-sit for the day. She was lucky that Pohaku had decided to lie where there was easy shade for the volunteer's camp chair. Every time Pohaku decided to come up the beach or farther to one side or the other, the volunteer would move the barriers and the poles around the seal. 

Sadly, the population of the seals continues to decline, last year numbers were around 1200, now they're just over 1000. They are ravaged by the same kinds of problems facing the other inhabitants of our oceans -- discarded fishing line, nets, or ropes left behind are like mine fields to these creatures. The lucky few who can escape have terrible scars. Our rubbish is found in their bellies. You didn't want to eat the plastic bottle cap. Don't feed it to the seals and birds. They can't tell that it isn't food.  

The volunteer told me stories of people cussing out the seal watch volunteers, most of whom are retirees. People didn't want to share the beach with the seals and give them the federally and state mandated 150 feet buffer. She said, sadly, the people on the Waianae coast often gave her hassles about watching the seals. She has witnessed people throwing rocks at the seals to get them to move off the beach. She's had to intervene when people let their curious dogs off leash around the seals -- seals are receptive to dog and cat illnesses. Is it so hard to leash your dogs, people? And while I'm at it -- neuter those cats, especially the feral ones! 

As I left the beach with my girls and my mom I touched this caring woman on the arm and told her how grateful I am for the work that she is doing here. I know that she probably doesn't get thanked enough for babysitting this endangered animal. I thanked her for all the information she shared with me not just about Pokahu but about what the seal population faces. I learned so much about seals today -- more than I thought I would get out of my quick morning trip to the beach. I was also struck by how this woman still seemed to genuinely still like people and patiently answered all the questions I posed to her. I certainly didn't think I'd learn the name of a seal. 

Pohaku -- the name means rock. Maybe it can mean foundation. Maybe it can mean the base upon which this population of monk seals can rise once more.