It was three years ago, in October 2013, my Friendly Seal first began playing with us in the local bay. I’ve told that story before; regular readers at the Daily Bucket have heard all about that and subsequent encounters (report from May 2015 with links to previous reports). In recent weeks as we’ve been out and about kayaking and boating in the bay and wandering along the beach, I’ve realized autumn is when she gets playful, after a busy stressful summer.
What do I mean by play?
A couple of days ago we were headed out to our boat in kayaks as we always do when we are going for an excursion outside the bay. Friendly Seal paddled straight toward us from her favorite end of the bay. For some reason she is especially fond of Mr O and bee-lined for him.
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She circled around both our kayaks, watching us, emerging from the deep unexpectedly, creating big splashes. She knows that we can’t see behind us, tucked as we are tightly into a kayak seat, and her favorite game to play is to sneak up behind a kayak, nipping or pushing the stern, then darting off before we can turn to see her. I’ve tried to fool her by paddling backward, hoping she’ll think the stern is the bow from underwater and pop up in front of me — but she has never fallen for that. Evidently she recognizes the underside of the kayak or remembers which way I am going or ?? The only times I ever surprise her is when she’s playing with Mr O and my kayak drifts close to her. On those occasions she flounces off with big splashes, turning to look at me from a little ways off. I get the impression of stink-eye.
This time she nosed onto the stern of his red Necky rubbing her chin, then “stood up” in the water to grab the kayak. It looked like she was about to hoist herself onto the stern as she did once a couple of years ago (fortunately the Necky is pretty stable; it tipped a bit and then she slid off). But then she dropped back into the water, looked over at me, did a splashy somersault and zoomed off.
There’s no survival benefit to her behavior, and she could in fact be hurt by it: expending valuable energy, putting herself in range of predation/hunting, inviting accidental injury. So why do animals play?
Biologists generally describe the behavior of wild animals as survival-related: hunting, breeding, avoiding predation. To make the risks of play worthwhile there must be benefits. Most play is seen in youngsters and its usefulness has been described as some combination of developing motor skills, training to be ready for unexpected events, practicing important adult skills (like sex or hunting) and cultivating social relationships and skills. Biologists have studied all sorts of animals, from cats to alligators, and come up with mixed results testing those hypotheses. A meerkat project in the Kalahari could not find a difference between pups who played vigorously and quieter ones in their ability to hunt or protect themselves when adult. Nor were more playful meerkats more sociable later.
On the other hand, research has shown other animals, like rats, squirrels, feral horses and brown bears (described in that article), are more likely to survive to adulthood, and make better moms. One hypothesis is that when we play we experience stress and resolve it without much danger, which helps in developing a repertoire of behaviors to deal with real stress. Sensory stimulation also promotes brain growth, valuable to problem-solving animals. In a review of what kinds of animals play, Graham (link above) lists play as common in placental & marsupial mammals and birds, and present in some species of monotremes, amphibians, reptiles and fish. Some invertebrates play, like octopuses. Could the capacity for learning be a factor?
Friendly Seal is fascinated by my paddle, which I’ve had two of since I’ve known her. She often stretches up to investigate it, sniffing and feeling it with her muzzle — but she has never grabbed at it. On a recent sunny day, she checked it out, then turned to give me a long look, and dived under the kayak.
Earlier I mentioned that Friendly Seal gets sociable and playful in the fall, scarce in summer. Last year I hadn’t seen her since spring and thought the worst when in October she appeared, in fine fettle. Circling us, checking out the kayaks, bumping them, all the while watching us and our reactions. I was so happy!
Where had she been? I suspect she may have joined other harbor seals for summer activities, which are primarily about breeding and molting. This past summer I saw her rarely: twice when she brought her new pup into the bay in midsummer (!!) and a few times in August and September. She had no interest in us until a few weeks ago; she spent all her time alone diving and eating. When seals give birth and nurse a pup they lose half their body mass, and it takes a lot of fish to regain their normal weight. Animals don’t play when they are dealing with bare survival. Now she’s plumped up and molted into her new fur, Friendly Seal has the leisure and interest to play again. Since we are the only kayakers in her bay at this season, she’s stuck with us ;-)
But an intriguing question remains: Friendly Seal is an adult now. I can understand why she was so playful as a youngster, but now? Why do adult creatures play? And why would a loner creature like a seal be interested in us? It’s not the kayaks she likes: once we tie them to the buoy and climb into the boat, she loses interest.
She intentionally seeks us out if we are all in the bay at the same time. It sure looks and feels like she’s enjoying herself. It feels good to us when we play….perhaps it’s the same for animals, so long as they aren”t on the edge of survival.
There’s no question in my mind she likes to play with us. On another occasion recently we had just come back from the boat and she hadn’t noticed us until we’d beached the kayaks. She swam right over to where we were on the beach, stood up in the water and gestured with her head Come on out! As much as I like playing with her, it was windy , spitting rain and the water was rough. Cold, I just couldn’t get back in. She swam from side to side, 10 feet out, each time gesturing. I can imagine her thinking These hoomans are so stupid, why don’t they understand? Eventually she gave up and swam off.
Have you seen animals play? Are youngsters different from adults? Do they play with you? What are your thoughts about why they do that?
And it’s time for you to share what you’re seeing in your natural neighborhood . . .
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