One of my new favorite words is “pinniped”. Which means “fin-footed”. Seals and walruses. There are actually a lot of pretty wonderful words in Linnaean taxonomy (sirenia, nops, ba humbugi…), but that’s fodder for another post. This is about picky pinnipeds.
So, last week was Himself’s birthday. Being Himself, one of the very nice things he decided he wanted to do on the day was to buy some fish and feed our (yes, of course, our) seals at the Coal Pier. Knowing the fish shop there would be closed, we happily went up to Tesco and bought €10 of Icelandic cod, which Himself cut into seal-bitesized pieces.
So, cod in hand, we all went down to the pier. It took a while; the seals don’t hang around in the same way when the fish shop is closed, but eventually one arrived. He was familiar: the big grey bull who’s usually the first to arrive. He has the best “feed me, pleeeeaaassse, I’m starving” face. And he looks like a rotund torpedo, so clearly he knows his business.
Himself tossed a piece of cod. The seal took a sniff. And promptly let the fish sink out of sight. On the off-chance that he was just…well, stupid or something (and while seals might not be the brightest mammals on the ark, they’re not stupid), we tossed another. This time, he grabbed it. And promptly spat it out. Clearly, he wanted something else. Smellier, maybe. Or less smelly. Or local. Maybe he was a locavore. Whatever, he didn’t want what we were offering. For a few minutes, he waited patiently, giving us the big, soft, liquid “Feed Me” eyes. Then he spent a couple more minutes alternately submerging and reappearing. Guess that’s his schtick. He’s learned that if he disappears and reappears he gets more food (“Oh, look, Daddy. A new seal! Feed it!…Oh, look, Daddy…”).
In the meantime, along came another seal: a little smaller, not quite as rotund, but plenty well-fed. We did the dance again. Fish. Sniff. Fish (in case of stupidity). Nada. Didn’t even try.
We tried to feel indignant. After all, we’d spent money, time, and a lot of our ick tolerance trying to do something nice for them. They’re seals, for heaven’s sake. They should be like dogs: willing to eat anything that even remotely resembles food. But in the end, as (fat) Pinniped One and Two bobbed and waited, giving us those big, soft, sad eyes, telling us how terribly terribly hungry they were, how the (fat) little Pinnipeds Three through Seven were waiting weakly at home for Mummy and Daddy to bring them their first meal in days, what we felt was guilty. Next time, we decided, we would bring sushi.
