3 seals and a splinter

I love delivery. It's the thing I miss most about living in a city. Urban dwellers can have just about anything delivered anytime. You name it and they can get it - from urgent documents to illicit drugs. You can even have yourself delivered (by cab, of course). Here in Morro Bay, though, the most I can hope for is a pizza and even that I'd better order before 8 pm. This Saturday, however, I got something delivered that no city dweller can dial up. This little yearling sea lion, Carpenter, was scooped off the drive on beach in our south county and delivered to me by my pal who rescued him. His stay was brief (lately we've been keeping these guys overnight just to mellow them out) as I shipped him off immediately after breakfast. I didn't want to trouble the understaffed Sunday rescue crew with the burden of his transport.

Thoughtful as I was to clear the decks on Saturday, Sunday turned out to be a busy day anyway. The weather was glorious and so the beaches were crowded with folks eager to locate (and harass) sick sea lions. The first call came from San Simeon and though I was on the schedule and lived closest, the gal who was in charge tried to spare me the long drive north. (I usually take Sundays off so she knew I was only on call out of pity.) She got sidetracked, though, on her way north by this little yearling, SueAnn, who was hanging around the jetty in Morro Bay (not nearly as far out or as far up as Walls, I must say). So while she went for the sure thing, I grabbed another neighbor friend of mine and headed up north for the long shot.

We were shocked to find Trolling was still there. He was patiently waiting two feet from the surf, actively ignoring the chaos around him. We're told he was even letting people throw rocks at him. He's bigger than our recent run of yearlings (37 kg to everyone else's 16 kg), and too skinny to be a classic Domoic Acid victim. Based on the amount of water he drank at the site, I'd put my money on Leptospirosis.

Leptospirosis is one of the first words we teach our new volunteers. We like it because it's long and intimidating. We use it to encourage people to keep their dogs away from our animals. "He might have Leptospirosis," we say (even when we doubt he does), "which is transmittable to dogs and humans" (which is totally true). This isn't a horrible Lepto year (it runs in 3 or 4 year cycles), but we do see a smattering of them every season.

Anyway, tucked and dry, skinny and disinterested, his was a pretty easy netting. It barely got my adrenaline flowing. Apparently, he was saving his ferocity until he got back to his pen. There he nearly bit me while not getting his penicillin shot. He ended up wearing the Dual Pen while my hand made a hasty retreat. I actually felt his whiskers brush against my glove - never a good thing. I was able to get him medicated this evening, at least, after he had a few hours of peace and quiet and I devised a safer approach.

As delighted as I am to have conquered my tricky sea lion, the undisputed highlight of my day came at dinner time. Tonight I had the distinct pleasure of extracting from Erik's hand the most gigantic splinter I've ever seen. He got it lodged in there a week ago, when he suffered a puncture wound in the wilderness. He wasn't certain that there was wood left behind (even the doctor wouldn't go digging around after it), until his body slowly worked it to the surface. Such a wonder of science, our immune system is. Anyway, knowing how I dig a good pick (I'm forever freeing his pores of this or that), he saved it for me, like a little treasure.

Such a good day.