One of the things I love about living on a boat in a marina is the wildlife I see daily. I am on the West side of the marina rather than the east - it's full of working fishing and crabbing boats and California sea lions.
The sea lions are locally known as "The Losers" - they are exclusively young bulls that were unable to find a mate in California waters and come up here to winter and sulk.
They've taken over the docks - crammed flipper to flipper on the twisted remains of wood and concrete walkways; barking mouth breather boys who lack only basements and munchies trolling each other for lack of anything better to do.
Animals like me; I don't know why, they just do. I did have a regular rivalry with a racist pot belly pig in college that bit white male study partners on the ankle and not asians - but he was probably secretly encouraged in the kitchen to do so and that is not his fault. Dogs who normally bite and growl will beg me for scritches, feral cats will allow me to pet them and say hello. Even wild animals interact with me in unusual ways.
I freely admit to being a weirdo of sorts - but I have nicknames for all the animals I see regularly. I also talk to them. Sometimes I repeat their calls, but mostly I just talk to them - usually in English, sometimes in French or Russian.
All sea lions are named Bubba. Bubbas roam up the river to our side occasionally, mostly in summer when the weekenders are out fishing and dumping their scraps in the water. While graceful in the water, they are clutzes on land and they seem to exude a sort of lazy curiosity. They will come closer if I call to them having no fear at all of humans, but since I never give snacks they lose interest quickly. I generally see a bubba cruising between the docks about twice a month.
We occasionally get harbour seals as well who are all called Little Bubba. They are smaller, speckled and cute in a way sea lions are not. Little Bubbas will swim closer to me than the sea lions and don't seem to mind the lack of snacks as much; sometimes they will splash and crane at me watching as intently as I am before diving under. They seem to know when Ron dumps the waste crab from his dockside market and show up on schedule.
The gulls of course are everywhere - pigeons of the sea. They do little more than squabble, coast lazily on air currents and shout MINE? MINE? MINE? to a soundtrack in their little pea brains. They are competitive but social, the appropriate social distance is only two feet between them. They are all Rats, as in "flying rats" I have affection for them in the same dose as irritation.
They are bold and will open up your trash if it smells interesting, even if you are within arms reach. I make it a habit to take out the trash even during the rain after being woken up one morning by demands for fresh pickings.
We also have ducks around - mostly Mallards but Buffleheads are common right now as well. Mallards are a hoot, they hang around the tiny beach in town and play in the surf but the Buffleheads are hysterical to watch.
Mallards don't give a crap about people really, they just kind of look for snack and then waddle or paddle off. Buffleheads are smaller and apparently terrified of us; but they are rather short winged and fatassed. The Buffles will flap frantically as their bums bounce on the water until they realise you aren't following, then stop and pretend they just felt like moving a bit and look flustered.
There are cormorants as well, there is a colony on one of the piles for the bridge to Washington where they dry their feathers and raise their young. I see them darting artfully in the marina quick to swallow their prizes before the gulls notice they missed something. Sometimes you see them jumping up onto the rows of jagged pylons to quickly fluff if the fishing is good, daring the gulls to tangle with them.
My favourite are the herons. All herons are named Erin/Aaron - yes, I'm lame like that. There is one in particular who lives at the marina I see on low tides and we have an... understanding. We greet each other, and occasionally I get an impromptu fishing lesson. I say lesson because sometimes s/he drops the fish as it to say - "Do you get it? Now it's your turn," and then gets another for itself in disgust as I simply watch.
We also have a family of racoons who live under the docks. Last year they had three kits and it was not uncommon at all to have to make room on the dock at night for running kits while one of the parents directs traffic. Once they had a tussle with a full beer can left on the dock - they finally punctured the can but the beer won, haven been so shaken in the opening that they were licking beer off their fur for days. They were trying to hold it down as it spun around, spraying them liberally with suds and carbs. I almost fell into the water I was laughing so hard. Can - 3 Coons - 0. No one was cut on the can, which was removed after it emptied and recycled.
So that's a quick tour of the wildlife I see pretty much everyday from my floating home on the edge of America. Part of what makes me so rich in so many ways to live here and now.