You may have noticed I haven't posted a seal update in a while. The last two weeks were punctuated by a handful of very busy rescue days which I couldn't post about promptly as it was birthday season. Not only does it take a while to craft a birthday blog, I like to let them linger for posterity. Now that all that madness is over, I can catch you up on my adventures. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), enough time has passed that I've also learned the outcome of some of the animals.
So here thay are in somewhat chronological order:
Friday, June 22nd: This little yearling actually looked pretty good. At 20 kg, Perso here was in custody more for suspected domoic acid toxicity than malnutrition. A full four kilos more than most of his graduating class, his trouble was that he was a bit wobbly. While he looks like he's doing just fine in this photo, really he's just trying to hold it together. I only had the pleasure of feeding him and transporting him, as he was a left over from Thursday's crew. Even so, I was sad to learn that he died six days later; cause of death was pyothorax and pneumonia.
As soon as I got back from transporting Perso (a three hour round trip to Taco Bell in King City), I left again with an otter they named Jasper. I have no photos, though, as I didn't bring my camera on transport and, besides, I'm sick of taking pictures of dying otters. She had a better chance than most - female, weaned, more alert than some - and she made it to the Aquarium alive. She even enjoyed an evening feeding but died before morning. Her death was blamed on one of the top two parasites those otters get. I can't quite place the name, but at least it's not toxoplasmosis, the one blamed on feral cats and opossums.
Company, on the other hand, was all mine. Another skinny sea lion yearling, he turned out to be woefully full of pus. The call for him came in on my way home from the 2nd transport (the otter). I was already up north, so I swung by and caught him on my way back home. My friend who netted him reports that he had a stick in his neck, but the source of his pus had to be more than just a stick. We tried to tube feed him which was tough enough as his neck was twice its normal size. When that purulent discharge came up from his stomach tube, we squealed a little from surprise and had to discontinue our attempts to hydrate him. Because we couldn't tube him, we arranged to ship him very early Saturday the 23rd. Miraculously, he's doing just fun. All hail antibiotics.
Saturday, June 23rd, and Sunday the 24th were spent chasing the gal we've begun to call Prolapse Girl out on Morro Rock. She chose the least accessible rock possible (surrounded by open ocean, just next to the surf line up) and the tides were working against us. She let us get close, (the tease) but she bailed at the first swing of the net. We kept hiking out (through poison oak) at various tides to check on her but to no avail. She loved her rock and if she couldn't be on it, she was in the water. I did see her once, from my car. It seemed she had been keeping an eye on me and had followed me back to the shallows just to say hello. I stuck around until sunset hoping she'd haul out on sand after the crowds left, but no such luck. Other crews made attempts on her Monday and Tuesday (both on bad docks) but she was wise to the ways of the net. No sign of her again until the following Sunday, July 1st, when we snapped this photo. I like this shot as it conceals her condition and preserves her proud spirit. I have others, with the seagulls lining up to snack on her increasingly protruding uterus, but I couldn't bear to post them. We failed in our rescue, but no matter what, hers is not going to be a good outcome. Prolapses have been known to bleed out in the net and they are generally caused by cancer, so the best she can hope for is the pink juice. We keep thinking it's a blessing we haven't caught her, but still, I'd like to end her pain.
To add insult to injury, Sunday June 23rd we also missed out on a yearling we were calling Smuggler down in Smuggler's Cove. We didn't even know there was a trail down to Smuggler's Cove until one among us pointed out there was a bit of a break between the neck high poison oak. He'd been down there before (and was unwilling to go again) and said the trail ended with a pretty steep 20 foot drop. Having already gotten poison oak on Morro Rock, a few of us figured what the heck. We were at least relieved to see our animal looked smaller on shore than from the cliff (usually it's the other way around) but the trail head was far from the seal and he beat us to the ocean. Empty handed again, we ended our weekend with aloe vera and calamine lotion.
Wednesday, June 27th, we finally had a keeper. Little Party Animal here came unexpectedly after sunset. Erik had to be our designated rescue driver since I took advantage of the fact I wasn't on schedule and had a couple margaritas. My neighbor was on call, but she had rolled the dice and enjoyed a glass of wine. Since I had jinxed her by inquiring about her day before sunset, and because I had the closest set of equipment, I had to go on the rescue. It was a good call to recruit me as we barely made it to the beach in time. We were basically rescuing a shadow. Our caller it seems was in a festive mood as well. Erik gave her a designated ride home before returning to pick up the rescue crew.
Party Animal was shipped off Thursday morning, June 28th. My friend who dealt with that day caught two animals of her own (see below) and worked straight through till midnight (watching another otter die). At least they didn't make her transport it at such a late hour. Something about the runny black death poop and the agonal breathing, I guess, helped them to decide to save the fuel.
Friday morning, June 29th, I got to feed and ship the Thursday rescues. D'avignon was a small yearling from Avila who came in with a collapsed eye. At least you can't tell from this picture that the eye is ruptured. Guess I shouldn't have told you. Anyway, it turns out the eye wasn't the worst of his problems as he later died (on Sunday, July 1st) of malnutrion.
The other Thursday rescue was Kinney. Again, it was after sunset when my friend and her crew of helpful bystanders helped to heave his 64 kg body straight up a cliff (still in the net) just shy of Morro Rock. Kinney, it seems, was also doomed, as he died on Monday, July 2nd, from a rib fracture, pyothorax, and peritonitis. He was so polite and well behaved. Here he is getting his subcutaneous fluids and he didn't even need a fence. The boys are always so much nicer than the girls. I'm really sad to see him go.
We got one fresh rescue of our own on Friday, the 29th. San Miguel came in from the San Simeon area and he wouldn't let me do a thing with him. At 34 kg, we could have considered tube feeding him but he was vocal and bitey and we don't generally do tubings down here for animals above 30 kgs. We tried to give him subcutaneous fluids but he kept pulling the needle. We offered fish but he thought they were gross and dead and freezer burnt. Little did I know he'd spend two nights. He was so dehydrated he smacked his lips around like a stoner with cotton mouth. On the second night vet staff convinced us to fill up our (hard to clean) pool so at least he got some external hydration. Rumor has it he still isn't eating dead fish but up in Sausalito they've got the skills to tube feed him so at least he's no longer hungry.
Before we arranged to transport San Miguel (which was later canceled), we got a call on Call Box. Same sort of area, just south of San Simeon State Beach. Another skinny yearling, though I was surprised to learn he weighed 16.2 kg. We let a new girl throw the net (he looked like a good trainer model). I should have photographed the rescue but for whatever reason I didn't. Like Kinney, Call Box was also a well behaved patient, although we did have to discontinue his first tube feeding when we realized his stomach was full of hose water he'd lapped up upon admission.
While bringing Call Box in, a different crew picked up Mr. Hand in the southern most part of our range, Oso Flaco. Mr. Hand is actually a girl and has domoic acid toxicity written all over her. In fact, this photo captures perfectly two of the biggest giveaways - the thick brown slobber and what we call "seizy eyes." DA animals, we've noticed, will often open their eyes wide enough to expose the white strip of flesh that holds them in. This almost always precedes a seizure. We doped up Mr. Hand and he was still loopy. Like Call Box, Mr. Hand was another new girl's first netting. Hers was much more challenging, I hear, as Mr. Hand was on the run and the wind kept inverting her net.
While treating these guys, it was back up to San Simeon for Bethke. Though Bethke weighed only 12.6 kg, it turns out she is a little boy. You can see from her dark runny feces that she's not having the best of times inside. Still, she tubed pretty easily (except once when she was a little bitey) and was very interested in her neighbor, San Miguel.
Sunday, June 30th, we finally shipped off our rag tag full house. Later in the day we brought in Falafel, another patient from the drive on beach. Like Mr. Hand and Perso, we got to give him some Lorazepam and this is his best attempt at holding things together. At only 23 kg, he was a struggle to restrain for his tube feeding. And although he was stoned, he still pulled his sub q needle. Like D'Avignon, he has a suspect eye but reportedly the rescuers saw it open and it's okay.
Rumor has it another animal came in on Monday and at least one more attempt was made on Prolapse Girl, too. Given that today is the Fourth of July, we are sure to get some action. I'm not actually on the schedule, though, (and have even unloaded my rescue truck) as the fourth is Erik's absolute favorite holiday. We're having another couple over for a barbecue and we'll go to Cayucos for the fireworks. Still much to cook and a little to clean so I guess I'm off for now.
